PAGE 8
On Picket Duty
by
The emotion which Dick scorned to show on his own account was freely manifested for another, as he sniffed audibly, and, boy-like, drew his sleeve across his eyes. But Phil, with the delicate perception of a finer nature, felt that the truest kindness he could show his friend was to distract his thoughts from himself, to spare him any comments, and lessen the embarrassment which would surely follow such unwonted confidence.
“Now I’ll relieve Flint, and he will give you a laugh. Come on, Hiram, and tell us about your Beulah.”
The gentleman addressed had performed his duty by sitting on a fence and “righting up” his pockets, to beguile the tedium of his exile. Before his multitudinous possessions could be restored to their native sphere, Thorn was himself again, and on his feet.
“Stay where you are, Phil; I like to tramp, it seems like old times, and I know you’re tired. Just forget all this I’ve been saying, and go on as before. Thank you, boys! thank you,” and with a grasp of the two hands extended to him, he strode away along the path already worn by his own restless feet.
“It’s done him good, and I’m glad of that; but I’d like to see the little baggage that bewitched the poor old boy, wouldn’t you, Phil?”
“Hush! here’s Flint.”
“What’s up naow? want me tew address the meetin’, hey? I’m willin’, only the laugh’s ruther ag’inst me, ef I tell that story; expect you’ll like it all the better fer that.” Flint coiled up his long limbs, put his hands in his pockets, chewed meditatively for a moment, and then began, with his slowest drawl:–
“Waal, sir, it’s pretty nigh ten year ago, I was damster daown tew Oldtaown, clos’t to Banggore. My folks lived tew Bethel; there was only the old man, and Aunt Siloam, keepin’ house fer him, seein’ as I was the only chick he hed. I hedn’t heared from ’em fer a long spell, when there come a letter sayin’ the old man was breakin’ up. He’d said it every spring fer a number er years, and I didn’t mind it no more’n the breakin’ up er the river; not so much, jest then; fer the gret spring drive was comin’ on, and my hands was tew full to quit work all tew oncet. I sent word I’d be ‘long ‘fore a gret while, and byme-by I went. I ought tew hev gone at fust; but they’d sung aout ‘Wolf!’ so often I warn’t scared; an’ sure ’nuff the wolf did come at last. Father hed been dead and berried a week when I got there, and aunt was so mad she wouldn’t write, nor scurcely speak tew me for a consider’ble spell. I didn’t blame her a mite, and felt jest the wust kind; so I give in every way, and fetched her raound. Yeou see I bed a cousin who’d kind er took my place tew hum while I was off, an’ the old man hed left him a good slice er his money, an’ me the farm, hopin’ to keep me there. He’d never liked the lumberin’ bizness, an’ hankered arfter me a sight, I faound. Waal, seem’ haow ’twas, I tried tew please him, late as it was; but ef there was ennything I did spleen ag’inst it was farmin’, ‘specially arfter the smart times I’d ben hevin’, up Oldtaown way. Yeou don’t know nothin’ abaout it; but ef yeou want tew see high dewin’s, jest hitch onto a timber-drive an’ go it daown along them lakes and rivers, say from Kaumchenungamooth tew Punnobscot Bay. Guess yeou’d see a thing or tew, an’ find livin’ on a log come as handy as ef you was born a turtle.
“Waal, I stood it one summer; but it was the longest kind of a job. Come fall I turned contry, darned the farm, and vaowed I’d go back tew loggin’. Aunt hed got fond er me by that time, and felt dreadful bad abaout my leavin’ on her. Cousin Siah, as we called Josiah, didn’t cotton tew the old woman, though he did tew her cash; but we hitched along fust-rate. She was ‘tached tew the place, hated tew hev it let or sold, thought I’d go to everlastin’ rewin ef I took tew lumberin’ ag’in, an’ hevin’ a tidy little sum er money all her own, she took a notion tew buy me off. ‘Hiram,’ sez she, ‘ef yeou’ll stay to hum, merry some smart girl, an’ kerry on the farm, I’ll leave yeou the hull er my fortin. Ef yeou don’t, I’ll leave every cent on’t tew Siah, though he ain’t done as waal by me as yeou hev. Come,’ sez she, ‘I’m breakin’ up like brother; I shan’t wurry any one a gret while, and ‘fore spring I dessay you’ll hev cause tew rejice that yeou done as Aunt Si counselled yeou.’