CHAPTER IV
THE LEARNED BLACKSMITH
As the old man called Winters left the post-office he struck out for themountain road, a smooth macadamized thoroughfare kept in perfect orderfor the benefit of the wealthy summer residents of the Heights, whitherit led: but he soon left it for a leafy ravine that ran alongside andwas rich with the sights and sounds of June.
Whether he did this from habit, being an ardent lover of nature, orbecause he knew that all anger must be soothed by the songs of birds andthe perfume of flowers, can only be guessed. Certain it is that if hesought to obtain the latter result for his disturbed companion, who hadas silently followed him into the shady by-way as he had from thecrowded office, he fully succeeded.
The ravine, like the road, climbed steadily upward, and the noisy littlestream that tumbled through it made a soothing accompaniment to thebird songs: and in his own delight of listening the old man almostforgot his fellow traveler. Almost, but not quite; for just at a pointwhere the gully branched eastward and he paused to admire, a sigh fellon Seth Winters's ear, and set him face backward, smiling cheerily andremarking:
"This is one of my resting-spots. Let's stop a minute. The moss--orlichen--on this bowlder must be an inch thick. Dry as a feather cushion,too, because the sun strikes this particular place as soon as it risesabove old Beacon, across the river. Sit, please."
He seated himself as he spoke, and Jim dropped down beside him.
"Beautiful, isn't it, lad? And made for just us two to appreciate, itmay be: for I doubt if any others ever visit this hidden nook. Think ofthe immeasurable wealth of a Providence who could create such a wonderfor just two insignificant human beings. Ah! but it takes my breathaway!" and as if in the presence of Deity itself, the blacksmithreverently bared his head.
Unconsciously, Jim doffed his own new straw hat; though his companionsmiled, realizing that the action was due to example merely, or even toa heated forehead. But he commended, saying:
"That's right. A man can think better with his head uncovered. If itwouldn't rouse too much idle talk I'd never wear a hat, the year round."
To this the troubled lad made no reply. Indeed, he scarcely noticed whatwas said, he was so anxious over the affair of the morning; and, withanother prodigious sigh, he suddenly burst forth;
"What in the world 'll I do!"
"Do right, of course. That's easy."
"Huh! But when a feller don't know which is right--Pshaw!"
"You might as well tell me the whole story. I'm bound to hear it in theend, you know, because I'm the justice of the peace whom that angrygentleman was in pursuit of. If his common sense doesn't get the betterof his anger, you'll likely be served a summons to appear before me andanswer for your 'assault.' But--he hasn't applied to me yet; and untilhe does I've a right to hear all you have to say. Better begin at thebeginning of things."
Jim looked up perplexed. He had only very vague ideas of justice asadministered by law and, at present, he cared little about that. If hecould make this fine old fellow see right into his heart, for a minute,he was sure he would be given good advice. He even opened his lips tospeak, but closed them again with a sense of the uselessness of theattempt. So that it was with the surprise of one who first listens to a"mind reader" that he heard Seth Winters say:
"I know all about you. If you can't talk for yourself, my lad, I'll talkfor you. You are an orphan. As far as you know there isn't a human beingliving who has any claim to your services by reason of bloodrelationship. You worked like a bond slave for an exacting old womantruck-farmer until pity got the better of your abnormal sense of 'duty,'when you ran away and helped a kidnapped girl to reach her friends. Inrecognition of your brave action my neighbor, Mrs. Betty Calvert, hastaken you in hand to give you a chance to make a man of yourself. She isgoing to test your character further and, if you prove worthy, will giveyou the education you covet more than anything else in life. Shebrought you here last night and this morning trusted you with twoimportant matters: the delivery to a certain gentleman, whom as yet I donot know, of a confidential letter: and the care of her Great Danes,creatures which she looks upon as almost wiser than human beings andconsiders her stanchest friends. The latter safely reached Mr. Chester'shands; but--the Danes? What shall we do about the Danes, Jim Barlow?"
"Thun--der--a--tion! You must be one them air wizards I heerd Mis' Stotttell about, 't used to be in that Germany country where she was raised.Why--pshaw! I feel as if you'd turned me clean inside out! How--how comeit?"
"In the most natural way. The men who print newspapers search closelyfor a bit of 'news,' and so your simple story got into the columns of myweekly. Besides, Mrs. Betty Calvert and I are lifelong friends. Ourfathers' estates in old Maryland lay side by side. She's a gossip, Bettyis, and who so delightful to gossip with as an old man who's known yourwhole life from A to izzard? So when she can't seat herself in mylittle smithy and hinder my work by chattering there, she must needsput all her thoughts and actions on a bit of writing paper and send itthrough the post. Now, my lad, I've talked to you more than common. Doyou know why?"
"No, I don't, and it sounds like some them yarns Dorothy C. used to makeup whilst we was pickin' berries in the sun, just to make it come easierlike. She can tell more stories, right out her plain head 'n a feller 'dbelieve! She's awful clever, Dorothy is--and spell! My sakes! If I couldspell like her I'd be sot up. But I don't see how just bein' befriendedby Mis' Calvert made you talk to me so much."
The blacksmith laughed, and answered:
"Indeed, lad, it wasn't that. That big-hearted woman has so manyproteges that one more or less scarcely interests me. Only for somethingin themselves. Well, it was something in yourself. Down there in theoffice, while I stood behind a partition and nobody saw me--I would hideanywhere to keep out of a quarrel!--I saw you, the very instant afterMr. Montaigne had shaken you and you'd struck back, lift your foot andstep aside because a poor little caterpillar was crawling across thefloor and you were in danger of crushing it. It was a very little thingin itself, but a big thing to have been done by a boy in the terrificpassion you were. It was one of God's creatures, and you spared it. Ibelieve you're worth knowing. But I'd like to have that belief confirmedby hearing what you are going to do next. Let us go on."
They both rose and each carrying his hat in his hand, the better tofacilitate "thinking," went silently onward again. It was a long climb,something more than two miles, but the ravine ended at length in ameadow on the sloping hillside, which Seth Winters crossed by a tinyfootpath. Then they were upon the smooth white road again. Before themrose the fine mansions of those residents designated by Alfaretta as the"aristocratics," and scattered here and there among these larger estateswere the humbler homes of the farmer folk who had dwelt "up-mounting"long before it had become the fashionable "Heights."
Not far ahead lay Deerhurst, the very first of the expensive dwellingsto be erected amid such a wilderness of rocks and trees: its massivestone walls half-hidden by the ivy clambering over them, its judiciouslytrimmed "vistas" through which one might look northward to the Catskillsand downward to the valley bordering the great Hudson.
Just within the clematis-draped entrance-pillars stood the picturesquelodge where the childless couple lived who had charge of the estate andwith whom Jim was to stay. He had been assigned a pleasant upperchamber, comfortably fitted up with what seemed to its humble occupantalmost palatial splendor. Best of all, there hung upon the wall of thischamber a little book-rack filled with well-selected literature. And,though the boy did not know this, the books had been chosen to meet justhis especial case by Seth Winters himself, at the behest of his oldfriend, Mrs. Calvert, immediately upon her decision to bring Jim toDeerhurst.
Even now, one volume lay on the window ledge, where the happy lad hadrisen to study it as soon as daylight came. He fancied that he couldsee it, even at this distance, and another of his prodigious sighsissued from his lips.
"Well, lad. We have come to the parting of the ways,
at least for thepresent. My smithy lies yonder, beyond that turn of the road and behindthe biggest oak tree in the country. Behind the shop is another mightyfellow, known all over this countryside as the 'Great Balm of Gilead.'It's as old, maybe, as 'the everlasting hills,' and seems to hold thestrength of one. I've built an iron fence around it, to protect its barkfrom the knives of silly people who would carve their names upon it,and--it's well worth seeing. Good-by."
"Hold on! Say. You seem so friendly like, mebbe--mebbe you could give mea job."
"No, I couldn't," came the answer with unexpected sharpness, yet a tingeof regret.
"Why not? I'm strong--strong as blazes, for all I'm kind of lean 'countof growin' so fast. And I'm steady. If you could see Mirandy Stott,she'd have to 'low that, no matter how mad she was about my leavin'.Give me a job, won't ye?"
"No. I thought you were going to do right. Good-morning;" and, as if hewholly gave up his apparent interest in the lad, Seth Winters, knownwidely and well as the "Learned Blacksmith," strode rapidly homeward tohis daily toil, feeling that he had indeed wasted his morning; and hewas a man to whom every hour was precious.
Jim's perplexity was such that he would far rather run away and turn hisback on all these new helpful friends than return to Deerhurst andconfess his unfaithfulness to his duty. He fancied he could hear Mrs.Cecil saying:
"Well, I tried you and found you wanting. I shall never trust you again.You can go where you please, for you've had your chance and wasted it."
Of course, even in fancy, he couldn't frame sentences just like these,but the spirit of them was plain enough to his mind. The dogs--Onethought of these, at that moment, altered everything. It had beencommented upon by all the retainers of the house of Calvert that suchdiscriminating animals had made instant friends with the uncouth farmboy. This had flattered his pride and his fondness for all dumbcreatures had made them dear to him beyond his own belief. Poor Ponce!Poor Peter! If they suffered because of his negligence--Well, he mustmake what atonement he could!
His doubts sank to rest though his reluctance to follow the dictates ofhis conscience did not; and it was by actual force he dragged hisunwilling feet through the great stone gateway and along the driveway tothat shady veranda where he saw the mistress of Deerhurst sitting, readywaiting for her morning drive and the arrival of Ephraim. As Jimapproached she looked at him curiously. Why should he come by that roadwhen he was due from another? and why was he not long ago transplantingthose celery seedlings which she had directed him should be his firstday's labor?
As he reached the wide steps he snatched off his hat again; not, as shefancied, from an instinctive respect to her but to cool his hot face,and without prelude jerked out the whole of his story:
"Mis' Calvert, ma'am, I've lost your dogs. I've been in a fight. I'mgoing to be arrested an' took afore a judge-blacksmith. Likely I'll bejailed. 'Tain't no sort o' use sayin' I'm sorry--that don't even touchto what I feel inside me. You give me a chance an'--an'--I wasn't worthit. I'll go, now, and--and soon's I can get a job an' earn somethin'I'll send you back your clothes. Good-by."
"Stop! Wait! _You lost my dogs!_" cried Mrs. Cecil, springing up and ina tone which brooked no disobedience: a tone such as a high-born damemight sometimes use to an inferior but was rarely heard from this realgentlewoman; a tone that, despite the humility and self-contempt he feltat that moment, stung the unhappy youth like a whip-lash. "Explain. Atonce. If they're lost they must be found. That you've been foolishenough to fight and get arrested--that's your own affair--nothing to me;but my dogs, my priceless, splendid, irreplaceable Great Danes! Boy, youmight as well have struck me on my very heart. Where? When? Oh! if I hadnever, never seen you!"
Poor Jim said nothing. He stood waiting with bowed head while shelavished her indignation upon him, and realizing, for the first, howgreat a part of a lonely old life even dumb animals may become. When,for want of breath, or further power to contemn, she sank back in herstoop chair, he turned to go, a dejected, disappointed creature thatwould have moved Mrs. Cecil's heart to pity, had she opened her eyes tolook. But she had closed them in a sort of hopeless despair, and he hadalready retraced his footsteps some distance toward the outer road whenthere sounded upon the air that which sent her to her feet again--thistime in wild delight--and arrested him where he stood.
At once, following those joyful barks, that both hearers would haverecognized anywhere, came the leaping, springing dogs; dangling theirbroken chains and the freshly gnawed and broken ropes--with which oldEphraim had unwisely reckoned to restrain them from the sweets of a oncetasted liberty.
But even amid her sudden rejoicing where had been profound sorrow, thedoting mistress of the troublesome Great Danes felt a sharp tinge ofjealousy.
"They're safe, the precious creatures! But--they went to that farm boyfirst!"