PART IX.
THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S: DANCING THE "WEEVILY WHEAT."
"Good night, Lettie!" "Goodnight, Ben!" (The moon is sinking at the west.) "Good night, my sweetheart." Once again The parting kiss, while comrades wait Impatient at the roadside gate, And the red moon sinks beyond the west.
THE SOCIABLE AT DUDLEY'S.
I.
John Jennings was not one of those men who go to a donation party withfifty cents' worth of potatoes and eat and carry away two dollars' worthof turkey and jelly-cake. When he drove his team around to the frontdoor for Mrs. Jennings, he had a sack of flour and a quarter of a finefat beef in his sleigh and a five-dollar bill in his pocket-book, acontribution to Elder Wheat's support.
Milton, his twenty-year-old son, was just driving out of the yard,seated in a fine new cutter, drawn by a magnificent gray four-year-oldcolt. He drew up as Mr. Jennings spoke.
"Now be sure and don't never leave him a minute untied. And see that theharness is all right. Do you hear, Milton?"
"Yes, I hear!" answered the young fellow, rather impatiently, for hethought himself old enough and big enough to look out for himself.
"Don't race, will y', Milton?" was his mother's anxious question fromthe depth of her shawls.
"Not if I can help it," was his equivocal response as he chirruped toMarc Antony. The grand brute made a rearing leap that brought a cryfrom the mother and a laugh from the young driver, and swung into theroad at a flying pace. The night was clear and cold, the sleighingexcellent, and the boy's heart was full of exultation.
It was a joy just to control such a horse as he drew rein over thatnight. Large, with the long, lithe body of a tiger and the broad, clearlimbs of an elk, the gray colt strode away up the road, his hoofsflinging a shower of snow over the dasher. The lines were like steelrods; the sleigh literally swung by them; the traces hung slack insidethe thills. The bells clashed out a swift clamor; the runners seemed tohiss over the snow as the duck-breasted cutter swung round the curvesand softly rose and fell along the undulating road.
On either hand the snow stood billowed against the fences and amid thewide fields of corn-stalks bleached in the wind. Over in the east, abovethe line of timber skirting Cedar Creek, the vast, slightly gibbous moonwas rising, sending along the crusted snow a broad path of light. Othersleighs could be heard through the still, cold air. Far away a party offour or five were singing a chorus as they spun along the road.
Something sweet and unnamable was stirring in the young fellow's brainas he spun along in the marvelously still and radiant night. He wishedEileen were with him. The vast and cloudless blue vault of skyglittered with stars, which even the radiant moon could not dim. Not abreath of air was stirring save that made by the swift, strong stride ofthe horse.
It was a night for youth and love and bells, and Milton felt thisconsciously, and felt it by singing:
"Stars of the summer night, Hide in your azure deeps,-- She sleeps--my lady sleeps."
He was on his way to get Bettie Moss, one of his old sweethearts, whohad become more deeply concerned with the life of Edwin Blackler. He hadtaken the matter with sunny philosophy even before meeting EileenDeering at the Seminary, and he was now on his way to bring about peacebetween Ed and Bettie, who had lately quarreled. Incidentally heexpected to enjoy the sleigh-ride.
"Stiddy, boy! Ho, boy! _Stiddy_, old fellow," he called soothingly toMarc, as he neared the gate and whirled up to the door. A girl came tothe door as he drove up, her head wrapped in a white hood, a shawl onher arms. She had been waiting for him.
"Hello, Milt. That you?"
"It's me. Been waiting?"
"I should say I had. Begun t' think you'd gone back on me. Everybodyelse's gone."
"Well! Hop in here before you freeze; we'll not be the last ones there.Yes, bring the shawl; you'll need it t' keep the snow off your face,"he called, authoritatively.
"'Tain't snowin', is it?" she asked as she shut the door and came to thesleigh's side.
"Clear as a bell," he said as he helped her in.
"Then where'll the snow come from?"
"From Marc's heels."
"Goodness sakes! you don't expect me t' ride after _that_ wild-headedcritter, do you?"
His answer was a chirp which sent Marc half-way to the gate beforeBettie could catch her breath. The reins stiffened in his hands. Bettieclung to him, shrieking at every turn in the road. "Milton Jennings, ifyou tip us over, I'll"----
Milton laughed, drew the colt down to a steady, swift stride, and Bettieput her hands back under the robe.
"I wonder who that is ahead?" he asked after a few minutes, whichbrought them in sound of bells.
"I guess it's Cy Hurd; it sounded like his bells when he went past. Iguess it's him and Bill an' Belle an' Cad Hines."
"Expect to see Ed there?" asked Milton after a little pause.
"I don't care whether I ever see him again or not," she snapped.
"Oh, yes, you do!" he answered, feeling somehow her insincerity.
"Well--I don't!"
Milton didn't care to push the peace-making any further. However, he hadcuriosity enough to ask, "What upset things 'tween you 'n Ed?"
"Oh, nothing."
"You mean none o' my business?"
"I didn't say so."
"No, you didn't need to," he laughed, and she joined in.
"Yes, that's Cy Hurd. I know that laugh of his far's I c'n hear it,"said Bottie as they jingled along. "I wonder who's with him?"
"We'll mighty soon see," said Milton, as he wound the lines around hishands and braced his feet, giving a low whistle, which seemed to runthrough the colt's blood like fire. His stride did not increase in rate,but its reach grew majestic as he seemed to lengthen and lower. Hisbroad feet flung great disks of hard-packed snow over the dasher, andunder the clash of his bells the noise of the other team grew plainer.
"Get out of the way," sang Milton, as he approached the other team.There was challenge and exultation in his tone.
"Hello! In a hurry?" shouted those in front, without increasing theirown pace.
"Ya-as, something of a hurry," drawled Milton in a disguised voice.
"Wa-al? Turn out an' go by if you are."
"No, thankee, I'll just let m' nag nibble the hay out o' your box an'take it easy."
"Sure o' that?"
"You bet high I am." Milton nudged Bettie, who was laughing withdelight. "It's Bill an' his bays. He thinks there isn't a team in thecountry can keep up with him. Get out o' the way there!" he shoutedagain. "I'm in a hurry."
"Let 'em out! Let 'em out, Bill," they heard Cy say, and the bays sprangforward along the level road, the bells ringing like mad, the snowflying, the girls screaming at every lurch of the sleighs. But Marc'shead still shook haughtily above the end-gate; still the foam from hislips fell upon the hay in the box ahead.
"Git out o' this! Yip!" yelled Bill to his bays, but Marc merely made alunging leap and tugged at the lines as if asking for more liberty.Milton gave him his head and laughed to see the great limbs rise andfall like the pistons of an engine. They swept over the weeds like ahawk skimming the stubble of a wheat field.
"Get out o' the way or I'll run right over your back," yelled Miltonagain.
"Try it," was the reply.
"Grab hold of me, Bettie, and lean to the right. When we turn thiscorner I'm going to take the inside track and pass 'em."
"You'll tip us over"----
"No, I won't! Do as I tell you."
They were nearing a wide corner, where the road turned to the right andbore due south through the woods. Milton caught sight of the turn, gavea quick twist of the lines around his hands, leaned over the dasher andspoke shrilly:
"Git out o' this, Marc!"
The splendid brute swerved to the right and made a leap that seemed tolift the sleigh and all into the air. The snow flew in such stingingshowers Milton could see nothing. The sleigh was on one runner, heelinglike a yacht in a gale; the girl w
as clinging to his neck; he could hearthe bells of the other sleigh to his left; Marc was passing them; heheard shouts and the swish of a whip. Another convulsive effort of thegray, and then Milton found himself in the road again, in the moonlight,where the apparently unwearied horse, with head out-thrust, nostrilwide-blown and body squared, was trotting like a veteran on the track.The team was behind.
"Stiddy, boy!"
Milton soothed Marc down to a long, easy pace; then turned to Bettie,who had uncovered her face again.
"How d' y' like it?"
"My sakes! I don't want any more of that. If I'd 'a' known you was goin't' drive like that I wouldn't 'a' come. You're worse'n Ed. I expectedevery minute we'd be down in the ditch. But, oh! ain't he jestsplendint?" she added, in admiration of the horse.
"Don't y' want to drive him?"
"Oh, yes; let me try. I drive our teams."
She took the lines, and at Milton's suggestion wound them around herhands. She looked very pretty with the moon shining on her face, hereyes big and black with excitement, and Milton immediately put his armaround her and laid his head on her shoulder. "Milton Jennings, youdon't"----
"Look out," he cried in mock alarm, "don't you drop those lines!" Hegave her a severe hug.
"Milton Jennings, you let go me!"
"That's what you said before."
"Take these lines."
"Can't do it," he laughed; my hands are cold. Got to warm them, see?" Hepulled off his mitten and put his icy hand under her chin. The horse wasgoing at a tremendous pace again.
"O-o-o-oh! If you don't take these lines I'll drop 'em, so there!"
"Don't y' do it," he called warningly, but she did, and boxed his earssoundly while he was getting Marc in hand again. Bettie's rage wasfleeting as the blown breath from Marc's nostrils, and when Miltonturned to her again all was as if his deportment had been grave andcavalier.
The stinging air made itself felt, and they drew close under their hugebuffalo robes as Marc strode steadily forward. The dark groves fellbehind, the clashing bells marked the rods and miles and kept time tothe songs they hummed.
"Jingle, bells! Jingle, bells! Jingle all the way. Oh, what joy it is to ride In a one-horse open sleigh."
They overtook another laughing, singing load of young folks--a greatwood sleigh packed full with boys and girls, two and two--hooded girls,and boys with caps drawn down over their ears. A babel of tongues arosefrom the sweeping, creaking bob-sleigh, and rose into the silent airlike a mighty peal of laughter.