Produced by Mark C. Orton, Janet Blenkinship, Linda McKeownand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net
SOUTHERN STORIES
RETOLD FROM ST. NICHOLAS
NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1907
Copyright, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1894, 1898, 1900, 1902, 1903, 1907,by THE CENTURY CO.
THE DE VINNE PRESS
* * * * *
A REAL UNCLE REMUS STORY.]
CONTENTS
PAGE
A REAL UNCLE REMUS STORY _Frontispiece_
HIS HERO _Margaret Minor_ 3
JERICHO BOB _Anna Eichberg King_ 18
HOW WE BOUGHT LOUISIANA _Helen Lockwood Coffin_ 28
THE CITY THAT LIVES OUTDOORS _W. S. Harwood_ 34
QUEER AMERICAN RIVERS _F. H. Spearman_ 52
THE WATERMELON STOCKINGS _Alice Caldwell Hegan_ 65
THE "'GATOR" _Clarence B. Moore_ 80
THE EARTHQUAKE AT CHARLESTON _Ewing Gibson_ 96
HIDING PLACES IN WAR TIMES _J. H. Gore_ 102
ST. AUGUSTINE _Frank R. Stockton_ 108
CATCHING TERRAPIN _Alfred Kappes_ 126
"LOCOED" _Edward Marshall_ 130
A DIVIDED DUTY _M. A. Cassidy_ 165
THE "WALKING-BEAM BOY" _L. E. Stofiel_ 178
THE CREATURE WITH NO CLAWS _Joel Chandler Harris_ 185
SOUTHERN STORIES
SOUTH
Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-trees; Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest.
_Longfellow._
HIS HERO
BY MARGARET MINOR
It was an October afternoon, and through Indian summer's tulle-like hazea low-swinging sun sent shafts of scarlet light at the highest peaks ofthe Blue Ridge. The sweet-gum leaves looked like blood-colored stars asthey floated slowly to the ground, and brown chestnuts gleamedsatin-like through their gaping burs; while over all there rested adense stillness, cut now and then by the sharp yelp of a dog as hescurried through the bushes after a rabbit.
Surrounded by this splendid autumn beauty stood Mountain Top Inn, nearthe crest of the Blue Ridge in Rockfish Gap, its historical value datingfrom the time when Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe, after a long andspirited discussion in one of its low-ceiled rooms, decided upon thelocation of the University of Virginia.
On the porch of this old inn there now sat a little boy, idly swinging apair of sun-tanned legs. Occasionally he tickled an old liver-coloredhound that lay dozing in a limp heap; but being rewarded only bytoothless snaps at very long intervals, he finally grew tired of thisamusement, and stretching himself out on his back, he began to dreamwith wide-open eyes. At these dream-times, when he let his thoughtsloose, they always bore him to the very same field, and here his fancypainted pictures with the vivid colors of a boy's imagination: picturesso strong that they left him flushed and tingling with pride; again,pictures that brought a cool, choking feeling to his throat; and attimes pictures that made his childish mouth quiver and droop. Among allof these thought-born scenes, at intervals there would stand out thereal ones, scenes that were etched on the clean walls of his memory ineverlasting strokes.
He never tired thinking of that first morning--that morning when all theworld seemed gilded with sunshine and throbbing with martial music. Hisgrandfather had lifted him up on one of the "big gate" posts to see thesoldiers march by. With mingled feelings of admiration and childish envyhe had watched them drill for many weeks, but they had never seemed suchreal, grand soldiers until now, as they came marching by with quick,firm steps, keeping time to the clear, staccato notes, marching off toreal battle-fields. It was all so beautiful, splendid, and gay--themusic, the soldiers, the people, the hurrahing! It stirred his sentientlittle body through and through with a kind of joy, and he thought it sostrange that his mother's eyes were full of tears.
Just a few days later he had listened eagerly to the sharp, cracklingsound of guns and the rumbling thunder of cannon, so near that the airseemed to vibrate. He and another little boy had stood and talked inhigh, quick tones, bragging and predicting breathlessly the result ofthe battle as they used the term "our men."
Finally they climbed the tallest oak on the lawn, and strained theiryoung eyes to see which was "gettin' whipped."
A little while after this he remembered following his father through thelong hospital ward. Over the first bed he saw him stoop and loosen thewhite cotton bandages of a wounded man. On the next narrow cot therewas a slender boy of fifteen, who lay with clenched hands watching thework of the surgeon. Then they passed a woman, who was gently bathingthe forehead of a man whose soldier days seemed likely to come to anearly end.
Some weeks had gone by, when one day he followed a party of men toMarye's Heights. It was a short time after the battle of Fredericksburg.A light snow had fallen the night before, which the wind whirled andsifted about the dead, in a way that made them appear to be shuddering.Once a sharp gust blew the snow off a body lying on its face, and theboy's eyes filled. He scarcely heeded the talk of the men with whom hehad gone. His thoughts were held fast by the awful scene which layspread before his young eyes.
How often since then had the boy pictured himself a grown man, seated onjust such a fine horse and following Lee! It was always Lee; in hisdreamland through the heart of the battle he always followed GeneralRobert E. Lee, his hero, whom he had never seen, but whom he had carriedhalo-crowned in his heart ever since he could remember.
And then the very saddest day in his life had come--the day when thefirst news of Lee's surrender lay heavy on the hearts of the household.For a while he had followed his mother as she went silently, with closedwhite lips, from one duty to another. Finally he went out to seekcomfort from Uncle Jake, whom he found sitting with his back proppedagainst the side of the corn-crib, drawing little quick puffs of smokefrom his pipe.
"Uncle Jake," he said, "Lee's just _had_ to s'render."
"Yes, honey." And as he looked into Uncle Jake's little red, wateryeyes, he saw no comfort there, and turned away.
Seven months had gone by since the war had ended; still, on this Octoberafternoon, as the boy lay stretched out on the porch of the old inn, hedreamed his boyish dreams of romance and heroism.
Suddenly his attention was attracted by the sound of hoofs, and turninghis head he saw a man riding slowly down the road. A new arrival at theinn was always most interesting. An eager light came into the boy's eyesas he watched the rider, who was now near enough for him to see howfirmly he sat in his saddle. The man seemed a very part of the stronglybuilt horse, which carried him with an ease that indicated long habit.
A wiry little negro had also seen the approaching horseman, and was nowhurrying across the lawn to meet him.
"May I spend the night here, my man?" asked the stranger.
"Yessuh--yessuh!" answered Uncle Jake, quickly, and opening the gate hestepped out and caught the bridle near the bit, as the horseman swungout of the creaking saddle to the ground.
"Uncle Jake, take the horse around to the stable!" called out the boy,who felt that the honors of hospitality rested on him, the
re being noone else in sight. Then he ran briskly down the walk to meet thestranger, who extended his fine, strong hand with a little smile, andsaid very kindly:
"How do you do, sir?"
"I'm well," replied the boy.
"And what is your name?"
"Jimmy."
"Jimmy? Well, Jimmy is a nice name," he said. Then he turned, and stillheld the boy's hand as he watched the little old negro, who stood withhis head under the saddle-skirt, tiptoeing and straining in his effortto unfasten the girth. Finally, when he succeeded, he flung the saddleon the ground, and the horse, feeling relieved of his burden, firstshook himself violently, and then expressed his comfort again and againin deep chest-tones.
During all this time Jimmy's eyes had been fastened on the stranger'sspurs, and a peculiar feeling of incredulity gradually filled his mind.
Silver, indeed! He could not fool him! No one was rich enough to havereal silver spurs! So sternly did he resent what he thought to be anattempt at deception that he drew his small brown hand slowly out of thestranger's gentle clasp.
After slipping off the bridle from the horse's head and dropping it bythe saddle, Uncle Jake led him away by his forelock to the stable, andJimmy walked toward the inn with his guest, who said as they reached thesteps:
"Jimmy, we will sit here for a while, and then I will go over to thestable and see about my horse."
As they sat down the old hound came cautiously down the steps, wheezingout a husky greeting.
"She is too old to hurt any one," said Jimmy.
"Is she yours?"
"No, sir. Tip's mine. Listen!" he exclaimed, as the sharp yelp of a dogagain broke the stillness. "That's Tip! He goes off and runs rabbits allby himself."
"Perhaps he is after a fox."
"No, sir; Tip won't run a fox."
"Jimmy, can you tell from a dog's cry whether he is running a fox or arabbit?"
"No, sir."
"Well, if he is trailing a rabbit he does not bark continually, but ifhe is after a fox he does; so you can always tell if you listencarefully."
"Never heard about that before," replied Jimmy, with a smile.
After this there followed a long pause, during which the stranger lookedabout inquiringly, then said:
"Jimmy, how long have you been living here?"
"Not very long. We refugeed over in North Carolina the first part of thewar. Then we came back to Spottsylvania County while father was inprison. Why, we just came here after the s'render. You remember when Leejust had to s'render?" he asked, looking up into the stranger's face.
"'YOU REMEMBER WHEN LEE JUST HAD TO S'RENDER?' ASKEDJIMMY."]
The boy's mouth, as usual, quivered as he uttered the word "s'render,"but the man did not appear to see this. He seemed to be looking at afar-off mountain peak. After a pause he replied, "Yes, I remember," ashe arose and started toward the stable.
"I'll show you the way," said Jimmy.
"Thank you, sir," he answered gravely.
When they entered the stable the big gray horse greeted his master withsome soft little nickerings. "Oh, he knows you without even looking!"exclaimed Jimmy, in tones expressing delight and surprise.
"Yes, he knows me pretty well," the man replied, as he looked withanxious sympathy at a saddle-galled place on the horse's back.
Jimmy had climbed up on the side of the stall, and was also looking withmuch interest. Suddenly he exclaimed: "I know what's good for that! Somestuff down in the bottom of the chalybeate spring."
He pronounced each syllable of the word "chalybeate" very clearly, forit was a newly learned word, and he was proud of his ability to use it.
"Why, yes; the iron in it ought to be healing. How far is the spring?"
"Oh, just a little way; I'll show you," Jimmy replied, jumping to theground and quickly opening the stable door. "Let me lead him," he added.
"Hadn't you rather ride him, Jimmy?"
"Yes, sir," he replied, in rather shy but pleased tones.
"All right," said the man, as he swung the little fellow up on thehorse. "There! Sit farther back, so you will not hurt that galled place.Now I'll lead him, and you tell me in which direction to go."
"Down the road there, just on the other side of the ice-pond," saidJimmy, pointing in that direction as they moved off.
The boy was happy as he cupped his bare legs close around the body ofthe horse, and watched the square shoulders of the man who walked slowlyahead. He thought him exceedingly nice and kind, and his feelings inregard to the spurs were not nearly so intense. The desire to ask ifthey were real silver, though, was strong, but he felt that perhaps itwould not be polite, so he said nothing.
After they had gone some distance Jimmy exclaimed, "There's the spring!"Then he slid quickly to the ground, and without other words knelt downand, baring one arm, dipped out of the bottom of the spring a handful ofrust-colored flakes.
"This is what you put on his back," he said. "Just lay it right on. Itdoesn't hurt; it just feels cool."
The directions were quietly obeyed, and the horse made no movement, savea slight quiver of the skin, as if to shake off a fly.
"Uncle Jake says that doctors can't make any finer medicine than this,"he said, as he scooped up another handful.
"Well, Jimmy, I am very much obliged to you, and I'm sure that my horseis also," said the stranger, as they started on back to the stable.
In the meantime the saddle left by Uncle Jake near the horse-rack hadattracted the attention of a young man as he came through the frontgate. After looking at it for a few minutes, idle curiosity prompted himto turn it over with his foot, and as he did so three bright brassletters--"R. E. L."--greeted him. He looked sharply at them at first,then his eyes dilated, and a little prickly thrill ran through him. "Iwonder if it can be!" he said. Suddenly some convincing feeling seemedto fill his mind, and then he almost ran to the house. On reaching thesteps, he sprang up them two at a time, and entered the hall, where hemet Mrs. Claverly.
"Mrs. Claverly--" he began, and stopped.
"Well?" she asked, smiling at his hesitation. "What is it, Charley?"
"Ah, do you know, Mrs. Claverly, I think that General Lee is here." Hisvoice was husky with excitement.
"General Lee! Where?" But without waiting for a reply, she steppedquickly to the door of the old-fashioned parlor, and exclaimed in soft,suppressed tones to a group of women sitting there:
"They think that General Lee is here!"
"What makes them think so?" asked a thin, gray-haired woman, as shehastily arose.
"Why," replied the young man, his tones now quite positive, "his saddlewith 'R. E. L.' on it is out there by the gate."
"There he comes now," said one of the group, eagerly; "at least, Isuppose that it is he."
"Let me see," said Mrs. Claverly, going rapidly to the window. "I sawhim once at the Greenbrier White, and I am sure that I would know him.Yes, it is he!" she exclaimed, as she looked at the man coming slowlyacross the lawn, talking earnestly to the barefoot boy at his side. Histhoughts were so completely occupied by what he was saying that notuntil he was quite near the inn did he see the group on the porch, andhis face flushed slightly as he realized that they were there to greethim. Lifting his hat, he ascended the steps with bared head. Mrs.Claverly walked quickly forward, and extended her slim white hand.
"General Lee, I believe."
"Yes, madam," he replied gravely, as he bowed low over her hand.
At the sound of Lee's name Jimmy's eyes grew round, and filled withastonishment. For one brief moment he stood gazing up at the stately oldsoldier, whom every one was greeting, then he backed slowly away untilhe reached the door. There he stood another moment, seeing nothing buthis hero.
Suddenly he turned and darted down the long hall, up the stairway, andinto his mother's room.
"Mother!" he exclaimed in breathless wonderment, "mother! General Lee isdownstairs, and he is just splendid, and--er--mother, he's just exactlylike anybody else!"[1]
[Footnote 1: This story is based upon the personal experience of one whorelated it to the author.]