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Read books online » Fiction » The Law of the Land by Emerson Hough (top 10 inspirational books .txt) 📖

Book online «The Law of the Land by Emerson Hough (top 10 inspirational books .txt) 📖». Author Emerson Hough



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cents for the fifteen dollars, but it’s the principle of the thing. T’aint right.”

“Well, what would you do?”

“Well, by God, sir, if I saw that claim agent—”

“Well, by God, sir, I’m that claim agent; and I do offer you fifteen dollars for that filly, right now!”

“What! You—”

“Yes, me!”

“Fifteen dollars!”

“Yes, sir, fifteen dollars.”

Colonel Blount burst into a sudden song—“On Jor-dan’s strand I’ll take my stand!” he began.

“It’s all she’s worth,” interrupted the claim agent.

Blount fairly gasped. “Do you mean to tell me,” said he, in forced calm, “that you are this claim agent?”

“I have told you. That’s the way I make my living. That’s my duty.”

“Your duty to give me fifteen dollars for a Himyah filly!”

“I said fifteen.”

“And I said fifty.”

“You don’t get it.”

“I don’t, eh? Say, my friend,”—Blount pushed the glasses away, his choler rising at the temerity of this, the only man who in many a year had dared to confront him. “You look here. Write me a check for fifty; and write it now.”

“I’ve heard about that filly,” said the claim agent, “and I’ve come here ready to pay you for it. Here you are.”

Blount glanced at the check. “Why, it’s fifteen dollars,” said he, “and I said fifty.”

“But I said fifteen.”

“Look here,” said Blount, his calm becoming still more menacing, as with a sudden whip of his hand he reached behind him. Like a flash he pulled a long revolver from its holster. Eddring gazed into the round aperture of the muzzle and certain surrounding apertures of the cylinder. “Write me a check,” said Blount, slowly, “and write it for fifty. I’ll tear it up when I get it if I feel like it, but no man shall ever tell me that I took fifteen dollars for a Himyah filly. Now you write it.”

He spoke slowly. His pistol hand rested on his knee, now suddenly drawn up. Both voice and pistol barrel were steady.

The eyes of the two met, and which was the braver man it had been hard to tell. Neither flinched. Eddring returned a gaze as direct as that which he received. The florid face back of the barrel held a gleam of half-admiration at witnessing his deliberation. The claim agent’s eye did not falter.

“You said fifty dollars, Colonel Blount,” said he, just a suggestion of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t you think there has been a slight misunderstanding between us two? If you are so blamed particular, and really want a check for fifty, why, here it is.” He busied himself a moment, and passed over a strip of paper. Even as he did so, the ire of Colonel Blount cooled as suddenly as it had gained warmth. A sudden contrition sat on his face, and he crowded the paper into his pocket with an air half shamefaced.

“Sir—Mr. Eddring,” he began falteringly.

“Well, what do you want? You’ve got your check, and you’ve got the railroad. We’ve paid our little debt to you.”

“Sir,” said Blount. “My friend—why, sir, here is your julep.”

“To hell with your julep, sir!”

“My friend,” said Blount, flushing, “you serve me right. I am forgetting my duties as a gentleman. I ask you into my house.”

“I’ll see you damned first,” said Eddring, hotly.

“Right!” cried Blount, exultingly. “You’re right. You’re one of the fighting Eddrings, just like your daddy and your uncle, sure as you’re born! Why, sir, come on in. You wouldn’t punish the son of your uncle’s friend, your own daddy’s friend, would you?”

But the ire of Eddring was now aroused. A certain smoldering fire, long with difficulty suppressed, began to flame in spite of him.

“Bring me out a plate,” said he, bitterly, “and let me eat on the gallery. As you say, I am only a claim agent. Good God, man!” and then of a sudden his wrath arose still higher. His own hand made a swift motion. “Give me back that check,” he said, and his extended hand presented a weapon held steady as though supported by the limb of a tree. “You didn’t give me a fair show.”

[Illustration: “EDDRING GAZED INTO THE ROUND APERTURE OF IHE MUZZLE]

“Well, by the eternal!” half whispered Colonel Calvin Blount to himself. “Ain’t he a fighting chicken?”

“Give it to me,” demanded Eddring; and the other, astounded, humbled, reached into his pocket.

“I will give it to you, boy,” said he, soberly, “and twenty like it, if you’ll forget all this and come into my house. I’m mighty sorry. I don’t want the money. You know that. I want you. Come on in, man.” He handed back the slip of paper. “Come on in,” he repeated.

“I will not, sir,” said Eddring. “This was business, and you made it personal.”

“Oh, business!” said Blount.

“Sir,” said John Eddring, “the world never understands when a man has to choose between being a business man and a gentleman. It does not always come to just that, but you. see, a man has to do what he is paid to do. Can’t you see it is a matter of duty? I can’t afford to be a gentleman—”

“And you are so much one, my son,” said Calvin Blount, grimly, “that you won’t do anything but what you know is right. My friend, I won’t ask you in again, not any more, right now. But when you can, come again, sir, some day. When you can come right easy and pleasant, my son, why, you know I want you.”

John Eddring’s hard-set jaw relaxed, trembled, and he dared not commit himself to speech. With a straight look into Colonel Blount’s eyes, he turned away, and passed on down the path, Blount looking after him more than half-yearningly.

So intent, indeed, was the latter in his gaze upon the receding figure that he did not hear the swift rush of light feet on the gallery, nor turn until Miss Lady stood before him. The girl swept him a deep courtesy, spreading out the skirt of her biscuit-colored gown in mocking deference of posture.

“Please, Colonel Cal,” said she, “since he can’t hear the dinner bell, would he be good enough to tell whether or not he will come in and eat? Everything is growing cold; and I made the biscuits.”

Calvin Blount put out his hand, and a softer shade came upon his face. “Oh, it’s you, Miss Lady, is it?” said he. “Yes, I’m back home again. And you made the biscuits, eh?”

“You are back home,” said Miss Lady, “all but your mind. I called to you several times. Who is that gentleman you are staring at? Why doesn’t he come in and eat with us?”

Colonel Blount turned slowly as Miss Lady tugged at his arm. “Who is he?” he replied half-musingly. “Who is he? You tell me. He refused to eat in Calvin Blount’s house; that’s why he didn’t come in, Miss Lady. He says he’s the cow coroner on the Y. V. road, but I want to tell you, he’s the finest fellow, and the nearest to a gentleman, that ever struck this country. That’s what he is. I’m mighty troubled over his going away, Miss Lady, mighty troubled.” And indeed his face gave warrant to these words, as with slow footsteps and frowning brow, he yielded to the pressure of the light hand on his arm, and turned toward the gallery steps.

CHAPTER V CERTAIN PROBLEMS

After his midday meal, Colonel Calvin Blount, wandering aimlessly and none too well content about the yard, came across one of his servants, who was in the act of unrolling the fresh bear hide and spreading it out to dry. He kicked idly at a fold in the hide.

“Look here, Jim,” he said suddenly, “Mr. Decherd killed this b’ah, didn’t he?”

“Yassah,” said Jim.

“And he shoots a rifle; and here are three holes—buckshot holes—in the hide. And you had a gun loaded with buckshot. Did you lend it to Mr. Decherd?”

“No, sah,” said Jim, turning his head away.

“Look here, boy,” said Blount. “There is no liar, black or white, can go out with my dogs; because my dogs don’t lie and I don’t. Now, tell me about this.”

“Well, Cunnel,” said the boy, half ready to blubber, “the b’ah was faihly a-chawin’ ol’ Fly up. He wus right at me, an’ I ran up close so’s not to hurt ol’ Fly, and I done shot him.”

“That’s all right,” said Colonel Blount. “How about the rest?”

“Well, sah, I had the b’ah mos’ skinned, when up comes Mr. ‘Cherd. ‘That’s my b’ah,’ said he. ‘Co’se it is,’ says I. Then he ‘lowed he’d give me two dollahs ef I said he was de man dat killed de b’ah.”

Blount stared reflectively at a knot-hole in the side of the barn.

“Jim,” said he, at length, “give me the two dollars. I’ll take care of that.” So saying, he swung on his heel and turned away.

The day was now far advanced, and the great white house had grown silent. As Blount entered, he met no one at first, but finally at the door of a half-darkened room midway of the hall, he heard the rustle of a gown and saw approaching him the not uncomely figure of the quasi-head of the menage, Mrs. Ellison. The latter moved slowly and easily forward, pausing at the doorway, where, so framed, she presented a picture attractive enough to arrest the attention of even a bear-hunting bachelor.

“I am glad to see you back, Colonel,” said she. “I am always so uneasy when you are away;” she sighed.

Blount felt himself vaguely uncomfortable, but was not quite able to turn away.

“I was just in my room,” said Mrs. Ellison, “as I heard you passing by. I had a little headache.”

“That’s too bad,” said Colonel Blount, and turned again to go. The unspoken invitation of the other still restrained him. She leaned against the door, soft-eyed, her white hand waving an effective fan, an attractive, a seductive picture.

“Why don’t you ever come in and sit down and talk to me for a minute?” said she, at length. “I scarcely see you at all any more.”

Blount gathered an uneasy hint of something, he knew not what; yet he followed her back into the half-darkened room, and presently, seated near her, and wrapped in his own enthusiasms, forgot all but the bear chase, whose incidents he began eagerly to relate. His vis-a-vis sat looking at him with eyes which took in fully the careless strength of his tall and strong figure. For some time now her eyes had rested on this same figure, this man who had to do with work and the chase, with hardship and adventure, and never anything more gentle—this man who could not see!

“You must be more careful,” said Mrs. Ellison. “But still, you are safely back, and I’m glad you had good luck.”

“Well, I don’t know what you would call good luck,” said Blount. “The fact is, I had a little trouble, coming in.”

“Trouble? In what way?”

“Well, it happened this way,” said he, with a quick glance about him. “I don’t like to mention such things, but I suppose you ought to know. This was about a couple of negroes back in the country a way. You know, I am a sort of deputy sheriff, and I was called on to do a little work with those same negroes. I suppose you know, ma’am, that those negroes used to run this whole state a few years ago, though they ain’t studying so much about politics to-day.”

“I know something of that,” said Mrs. Ellison. “That was soon after the war, they tell me. But they gave that up long

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