II.
The school-house down on the creek was known as "Hell's Corners" allthrough the county, because of the frequent rows that took place thereinat "corkuses" and the like, and also because of the number of teachersthat had been "ousted" by the boys. In fact, it was one of those placesstill to be found occasionally in the West, far from railroads andschools, where the primitive ignorance and ferocity of men still prowl,like the panthers which are also found sometimes in the deeps of theIowa timber lands.
The most of this ignorance and ferocity, however, was centered in thefamily of Dixons, a dark-skinned, unsavory group of Missourians. Itconsisted of old man Dixon and wife, and six sons, all man-grown, great,gaunt, sinewy fellows, with no education, but superstitious as savages.If anything went wrong in 'Hell's Corners' everybody knew that theDixons were "on the rampage again." The school-teachers were warnedagainst the Dixons, and the preachers were besought to convert theDixons.
In fact, John Jennings, as he drove Pill to the school-house next day,said:
"If you can convert the Dixon boys, Elder, I'll give you the best horsein my barn."
"I work not for such hire," said Mr. Pill, with a look of deep solemnityon his face, belied, indeed, by a twinkle in his small, keen eye--atwinkle which made Milton Jennings laugh candidly.
There was considerable curiosity, expressed by a murmur of lips andvoices, as the minister's tall figure entered the door and stood for amoment in a study of the scene before him. It was a characteristicallyWestern scene. The women were rigidly on one side of the school-room,the men as rigidly on the other; the front seats were occupied bysquirming boys and girls in their Sunday splendor.
On the back, to the right, were the young men, in their best vests, withpaper collars and butterfly neckties, with their coats unbuttoned, theirhair plastered down in a fascinating wave on their brown foreheads. Nota few were in their shirt-sleeves. The older men sat immediatelybetween the youths and boys, talking in hoarse whispers across theaisles about the state of the crops and the county ticket, while thewomen in much the same way conversed about children and raising onionsand strawberries. It was their main recreation, this Sunday meeting.
"Brethren!" rang out the imperious voice of the minister, "let us pray."
The audience thoroughly enjoyed the Elder's prayer. He was certainlygifted in that direction, and his petition grew genuinely eloquent ashis desires embraced the "ends of the earth and the utterm'st parts ofthe seas thereof." But in the midst of it a clatter was heard, and fiveor six strapping fellows filed in with loud thumpings of their brogans.
Shortly after they had settled themselves with elaborate impudence onthe back seat, the singing began. Just as they were singing the lastverse, every individual voice wavered and all but died out inastonishment to see William Bacon come in--an unheard-of thing! And witha clean shirt, too! Bacon, to tell the truth, was feeling as much out ofplace as a cat in a bath-tub, and looked uncomfortable, even shamefaced,as he sidled in, his shapeless hat gripped nervously in both hands;coatless and collarless, his shirt open at his massive throat. The girlstittered, of course, and the boys hammered each other's ribs, moved bythe unusual sight. Milton Jennings, sitting beside Marietta, said:
"Well! may I jump straight up and never come down!"
And Shep Watson said: "May I never see the back o' my neck!" Whichpleased Marietta so much that she grew purple with efforts to concealher laughter; she always enjoyed a joke on her father.
But all things have an end, and at last the room became quiet as Mr.Pill began to read the Scripture, wondering a little at the commotion.He suspected that those dark-skinned, grinning fellows on the back seatwere the Dixon boys, and knew they were bent on fun. The physique of theminister being carefully studied, the boys began whispering amongthemselves, and at last, just as the sermon opened, they began to pushthe line of young men on the long seat over toward the girls' side,squeezing Milton against Marietta. This pleasantry encouraged one ofthem to whack his neighbor over the head with his soft hat, causinggreat laughter and disturbance. The preacher stopped. His cool,penetrating voice sounded strangely unclerical as he said:
"There are some fellows here to-day to have fun with me. If they don'tkeep quiet, they'll have more fun than they can hold." At this point agreen crab-apple bounded up the aisle. "I'm not to be bulldozed."
He pulled off his coat and laid it on the table before him, and, amid awondering silence, took off his cuffs and collar, saying:
"I can preach the word of the Lord just as well without my coat, and Ican throw rowdies out the door a little better in my shirt-sleeves."
Had the Dixon boys been a little shrewder as readers of human character,or if they had known why old William Bacon was there, they would havekept quiet; but it was not long before they began to push again, and atlast one of them gave a squeak, and a tussle took place. The preacherwas in the midst of a sentence:
"An evil deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of mustard seed. It issmall, but it grows steadily, absorbing its like from the earth and air,sending out roots and branches, till at last"----
There was a scuffle and a snicker. Mr. Pill paused, and gazed intentlyat Tom Dixon, who was the most impudent and strongest of the gang; thenhe moved slowly down on the astonished young savage. As he came his eyesseemed to expand like those of an eagle in battle, steady, remorseless,unwavering, at the same time that his brows shut down over them--aglance that hushed every breath. The awed and astounded ruffians sat asif paralyzed by the unuttered yet terribly ferocious determination ofthe preacher's eyes. His right hand was raised, the other was clenchedat his waist. There was a sort of solemnity in his approach, like atiger creeping upon a foe.
At last, after what seemed minutes to the silent, motionlesscongregation, his raised hand came down on the shoulder of the leaderwith the exact, resistless precision of the tiger's paw, and the ruffianwas snatched from his seat to the floor sprawling. Before he could rise,the steel-like grip of the roused preacher sent him half way to thedoor, and then out into the dirt of the road.
Turning, Pill came back down the aisle; as he came the half-risencongregation made way for him, curiously. When he came within reach ofDick, the fellow struck savagely out at the preacher, only to have hisblow avoided by a lithe, lightning-swift movement of the body above thehips (a trained boxer's trick), and to find himself also lying bruisedand dazed on the floor.
By this time the rest of the brothers had recovered from their stupor,and, with wild curses, leaped over the benches toward the fearless Pill.
But now a new voice was heard in the sudden uproar--a new but familiarvoice. It was the raucous snarl of William Bacon, known far and wide asa terrible antagonist, a man who had never been whipped. He was like awild beast excited to primitive savagery by the smell of blood.
"_Stand back_, you hell-hounds!" he said, leaping between them and thepreacher. "You know me. Lay another hand on that man an', by the livun'God, you answer t' me. Back thear!"
Some of the men cheered, most stood irresolute. The women crowdedtogether, the children began to scream with terror, while through it allPill was dragging his last assailant toward the door.
Bacon made his way down to where the Dixons had halted, undecided whatto do. If the preacher had the air and action of the tiger, Bacon lookedthe grizzly bear--his eyebrows working up and down, his hands clenchedinto frightful bludgeons, his breath rushing through his hairy nostrils.
"Git out o' hyare," he growled. "You've run things here jest about longenough. Git out!"
His hands were now on the necks of two of the boys, and he was hustlingthem toward the door.
"If you want 'o whip the preacher, meet him in the public road--one at atime; he'll take care o' himself. Out with ye," he ended, kicking themout. "Show your faces here agin, an' I'll break ye in two."
The non-combative farmers now began to see the humor of the wholetransaction and began to laugh; but they were cut short by the calmvoice of the preacher at his desk:
 
; "But a _good_ deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of wheat planted ingood earth, that bringeth forth fruit in due season an hundred fold."