IV
At nine the next morning there was a crowd in front of the house.
"What have you been doing now, Will?" asked Miss Mattie withprescience.
"Only buying a horse, Mattie," returned Red soberly. "Seems to bequite an event here."
"Is that all?"
"That's all, so help me Bob!" Red had a suspicion that there wouldbe objections if she knew what kind of a horse it was.
Lettis, who had roomed with Red overnight, was in the secret.
The horse arrived, leading very quietly, as Mr. Upton had said. Itwas a buckskin, fat and hearty from long resting. Nothing could bemore docile than the pensive lower lip, and the meek curve of theneck; nothing could be more contradictory than the light of itseye; a brooding, baleful fire, quietly biding its time.
"Scatter, friends!" cried Red, as he put his foot in the stirrup."Don't be too proud to take to timber!"
He swung over as lightly as a trapeze performer, deftly catchinghis other stirrup. The horse groaned and shivered.
"Don't let him get his head down! Gol-ding it! Don't you!"screamed Mr. Upton in wild excitement.
Red threw the bridle over the horn of the saddle. "Go it, youdevil!" cried he. And they went. Six feet straight in the air,first pass. The crowd scattered, as requested. They hurried atthat. Red gave the brute the benefit of his two hundred and a halfas they touched earth, and his opponent grunted when he felt thejar of it. They rocketted and ricochetted; they were here, theywere there, they were everywhere, the buckskin squealing like apig, and fighting with every ounce of the strength that lay in hissteel strung legs; the dust rose in clouds; Red's hat flew in notime; he was yelling like a maniac, and the crowd was yelling likemore maniacs. Now and then a glimpse of the rider's face could becaught, transported with joy of the struggle; then the dust wouldroll up and hide everything. No one was more pleased at thespectacle than the blacksmith. He was capering in the middle ofthe road, waving a hand-hammer and shouting "Hold him _down_! Holdhim DOWN! Why do you let him jump up like that? If _I_ was onthat horse I'd show you! Aw, there it is again--Stop him! _Stop_him!"
At this point the buckskin made three enormous leaps for theblacksmith, as though he had understood. The smith cast dignity tothe winds and went over the nearest fence in the style that littleboys, when coasting, call "stomach-whopper"--or words to thateffect--and took his next breath two minutes later. He might havesaved the labour, as the horse wheeled on one foot, and pulledfairly for the picket fence opposite. Red regretted the absence ofherders as the sharp pickets loomed near. It was no time forregrets. The horse was over with but little damage--a slightscratch, enough to rouse his temper, however, for he whaled awaywith both hind feet, and parts of the fence landed a hundred feetoff. Then a dash through an ancient grape arbor, and they werelost to view of the road. Some reckless small boys scamperedafter, but the majority preferred to trace the progress of theconflict by the aboriginal "Yerwhoops" that came from somewhere inbehind the old houses.
"There they go!" piped up a shrill voice of the small-boy brigade."Right through Mis' Davisses hen coops!--you _ought_ to see themhens FLY!" The triumphant glee is beyond the reach of words.Simultaneous squawking verified the remark, as well as a femininevoice, urging a violent protest, cut short by a scream of terror,and the slam of a door. The inhabitants of "Mis' Davisses" houseinstantly appeared through the front door, seeking the street.
To show the erraticalness of fate, no sooner had they reached theroad, than Red's mount cleared the parapet of the bridge in asingle leap--a beautiful leap--and came down upon them in the road.
All got out of the way but a three-year-old, forgotten in theexcitement. Upon this small lad, fallen flat in the road, bore thepowerful man and horse. Then there were frantic cries of warning.Fifty feet between the youngster and those manglinghoofs--twenty--five! the crowd gasped--they were blotted together!Not so. A mighty hand had snatched the boy away in that instant oftime. He was safe and very indignant in a howling, huddled heap inthe ditch by the roadside, but alas, for horse and rider! Thebuckskin was not used to such feats, and when Red's weight wasthrown to the side for the reach he missed his stride, struck hisfeet together, and down they went, while the foot-deep dust spranginto the air like an explosion.
Miss Mattie rushed to the scene of the accident, followed byeverybody. Young Lettis, equally frightened, was close beside her.
"Oh, Will! Are you killed?" she cried.
And then a voice devoid of any signs of weakness, but loaded to thebreaking point with wrath, told in such language as had never beenheard in Fairfield that the owner was still much alive.
"Run away, Mattie! Run away and let me cuss!" shrieked Red. MissMattie collapsed into the arms of Lettis.
The dust settled enough so that the anxious villagers could seehorse and man; the former resting easily, as if he had had enoughathletics for one day, and the latter sitting in the road. Neithershowed any intention of rising.
"What's the matter, Mr. Saunders, are you hurt?" inquired the fussypost-mistress.
"Please go 'way, ma'am," said Red, waving his arm.
"I'm sure you're hurt--I'm perfectly sure you're hurt," shepersisted, holding her ground. "Now, do tell us what can possiblybe the matter with you?"
"Very well," returned the exasperated cow-puncher, "I will. Mypants, ma'am, have suffered in this turn-up, and they're now in acondition to make my appearance in polite society difficult, if notimpossible; now please go 'way and somebody fetch me a horseblanket."
It is regrettable that the discomfiture of the post-mistress wasreceived with undisguised hilarity. The blanket was produced, andRed stalked off in Indian dignity, marred by a limp in his leftleg, for he had come upon Mother Earth with a force which madeitself felt through all that foot of soft dust.
"Bring that durn-fool horse along," he called over his shoulder.Buckskin rose and followed his owner. There was no light in hiseye now; he looked thoughtful. He, too, limped, and there was atrickle of blood down his nose. Verily it had been a hard foughtfield.
* * * * *
As both men were anxious to see the lay of the land as soon aspossible. Red took his place in the waggon that day, after thedamages were repaired, content to wait until his leg was less sorefor horseback riding.
There followed a busy two weeks for them. Mr. Demilt had somemoney he wished to put into the enterprise, but his most valuableassistance was, of course, his thorough knowledge of the resourcesof the country.
They found an admirable site for the mill, in an old stone barn,which had stood the ravages of desolation almost unimpaired. Red'smining experience told him that the creek could easily be flumed tothe barn, and as that was the only objection of the others to thislocation, they wrote the owner of the property for a price. Theywere astonished when they received the figures. It had come byinheritance to a man to whom it was a white elephant of the mostexasperating sort, and he was glad to get rid of it for almost asong. They were a jubilant three at the news. It saved the costof building a mill, and including that, the price was as low peracre as any land they could have obtained. Red closed the bargaininstantly.
Lettis' part of the business was chiefly to arrange for thedisposal of their product, and when he explained to his partnerswhat he could reasonably hope to do in that line, the affair lostits last tint of unreality, and became a good proposition, forLettis had an excellent business acquaintance, who would be glad todeal with the straightforward young fellow.
The night after the signing of the deeds, Red said to Miss Mattie,"We ought to have a stockholders' dinner to-morrow night, Mattie.If you could hire that scow-built girl, who wears her hairscrambled, to come in and give you a lift, would you feel equal toit?"
"You always put it that I'm doing you a great favour in suchthings, Will, but you know perfectly well there's nothing I'drather do," replied Miss Mattie, with a dimpling smile. "However,it adds to the pleasure of it to have it pu
t in that way, so Iwon't complain. I'll just have my supper first, and then you mencan talk over your business undisturbed."
"You _will_ not--you'll eat with the rest of us."
"Yes, but you stockholders--" The word had an import to MissMattie; a something, if not regal, at least a kinship to the king.Under her democracy lay a respect for the founded institution;impersonal; an integral part of the law of the State; in fact, aminor sovereignty within an empire.
"Stockholder yourself!" retorted Red. "Don't you call me names."
"What do you mean, Will?" asked Miss Mattie, with wide-opened eyes.
"I mean you're a stockholder as good as anybody--you've got half mystack. Now, hold on! Just listen! This is a queer run, Mattie,from the regulation point of view, this company of ours; I knowenough about fillin' and backin' to know that--you ought to haveseen the pryin', and pokin', and nosin' around them Boston men didbefore they took holt of the Chantay Seeche and made it a stockcompany! One feller was the ablest durn fool I ever come acrosst.I used to let on I didn't savvey anything about it. 'Now, explainto me,' says I to him. 'You say you have so many shares of themstock,' waving my hand to a bunch of critters in the distance.'What part do you take? I mean, what's your share of each animal,and does the last man get the hoofs and the tail?' 'Oh! you don'tunderstand,' says he. 'I'll explain it to you.' So he starts into tell me that 'stock didn't necessarily mean beef critters,' anda lot more things, whilst old man Ferguson, who was putting thedeal through, stood listening and chewing his teeth, thinking I wasgoing to give our friend the frolicsome hee-hee at the wind-up.But I stood solemn, and never even drew a smile, for fear ofqueering Ferguson. Well. That's the proper way to start acompany; make it as dreary and long-winded as possible. We ain'tdone that, and perhaps we'll go broke for breaking the rules, andthen your stock won't be worth a cuss; so don't you get excitedabout it. I wanted the Saunders family to be represented. Prettysoon the old lad with the nose will be around, and you'll have achance to read about the 'parties of the first part,' and 'secondparts of the party' and 'aforesaids' and 'behindsaids' and the restof the yappi them lawyers swing so that honest men won't know whatthe devil they're up to."
"Oh, Will! How can I ever thank you!" cried Miss Mattie, her eyesfilling. It seemed a great and responsible position to the gentlelady to be a stockholder in the corporation. It wasn't themonetary value of the thing; it was the pride of place.
"If you don't know how, don't try," returned Red. "You give theother three stockholders a good feed to-morrow and the thanks willbe up to you. Hello! There's the old lad now!" as a trumpet blastrang out from the front porch. "It must take some practise to blowyour nose like that. I've heard Jackasses that could not bray inthe same class with that little old gent--come in. Come in! Youneedn't sound the rally again."
Thus adjured the lawyer made his entrance, and Miss Mattie becamein due and involved course of law a stockholder in the FairfieldStrawboard Mfg. Co.
Fairfield rose to activity like a very small giant refreshed.Teams and their heavy loads kept the respectable dust in constantcommotion. A grist mill was added to the intended plant, thusoffering an inducement to the farmer to raise grain, andincidentally straw, "So we can ketch 'em on both ends, too," as Redput it.
The time seemed like enchantment to Miss Mattie. As a bringer ofthe tidings, and a stockholder in the company, she had risen to bea person of importance, with the result that she was even moremodestly shy than before, although in her heart she liked it; butmore delightful yet was the spirit of holiday activity whichinspired and pervaded the place.
Red had insisted on operating on the lines that are laid down withrailroad spikes in the Western communities; to patronise homeindustries as much as possible. Therefore the machinery orderswent through Mr. Farrel, the blacksmith, initiating that worthy maninto the mysteries of making money without doing anything for it,which seemed little less than a miracle to him. Everything thatcould be bought through local people was obtained in that way. Itcost a trifle more, but it brought more money into the place, andenabled the villagers to partake of the enlivenment, without thefeeling that it was a Barmecide feast. The post-mistress furnishedthe paint, and it is painful to add that she tried to furnish anumber three paint for a number one price, arguing that she was apoor, lone woman, struggling through an uncharitable world and thatthe increased profit would do her considerable good--a view whichRed did not share. He would willingly have made her a present ofthe difference, but he did not in the least intend to be chousedout of it by man nor woman. They had a very funny debate inprivate, wherein the feminine tried to dominate the masculineprinciple by sheer volubility and found to its disgust that themethod didn't work. Red listened most respectfully and alwaysreplied, "Yes ma'am, but we don't want that paint. Get us somegood paint--bully old paint with stick'um in it--this stuff is likewhitewash, only feebler. We're going to put on a swell front up atthe mill, and we've got to have the right thing." And at last thepost-mistress said that she would, her respect for theex-cowpuncher having risen noticeably in the meantime.