A Knight of the Cumberland [10]
I turned my head, knowing that caution had caught Buck.
``What about?''
``Oh, nothin','' said Buck carelessly; ``only he's been quar ever since. My sisters says he's got a gal over thar, an' he's a-pickin' off these rings more'n ever now. He's going to win or bust a belly- band.''
``Well, who's Dave Branham?''
Buck grinned. ``You jes axe my sister Mollie. Thar she is.''
Before us was a white-framed house of logs in the porch of which stood two stalwart, good-looking girls. Could we stay all night? We could--there was no hesitation--and straight in we rode.
``Where's your father?'' Both girls giggled, and one said, with frank unembarrassment:
``Pap's tight!'' That did not look promising, but we had to stay just the same. Buck helped me to unhitch the mules, helped me also to catch minnows, and in half an hour we started down the river to try fishing before dark came. Buck trotted along.
``Have you got a wagon, Buck?''
``What fer?''
``To bring the fish back.'' Buck was not to be caught napping.
``We got that sled thar, but hit won't be big enough,'' he said gravely. ``An' our two-hoss wagon's out in the cornfield. We'll have to string the fish, leave 'em in the river and go fer 'em in the mornin'.''
``All right, Buck.'' The Blight was greatly amused at Buck.
Two hundred yards down the road stood his sisters over the figure of a man outstretched in the road. Unashamed, they smiled at us. The man in the road was ``pap''--tight--and they were trying to get him home.
We cast into a dark pool farther down and fished most patiently; not a bite--not a nibble.
``Are there any fish in here, Buck?''
``Dunno--used ter be.'' The shadows deepened; we must go back to the house.
``Is there a dam below here, Buck?''
``Yes, thar's a dam about a half-mile down the river.''
I was disgusted. No wonder there were no bass in that pool.
``Why didn't you tell me that before?''
``You never axed me,'' said Buck placidly.
I began winding in my line.
``Ain't no bottom to that pool,'' said Buck.
Now I never saw any rural community where there was not a bottomless pool, and I suddenly determined to shake one tradition in at least one community. So I took an extra fish-line, tied a stone to it, and climbed into a canoe, Buck watching me, but not asking a word.
``Get in, Buck.''
Silently he got in and I pushed off--to the centre.
``This the deepest part, Buck?''
``I reckon so.''
I dropped in the stone and the line reeled out some fifty feet and began to coil on the surface of the water.
``I guess that's on the bottom, isn't it, Buck?''
Buck looked genuinely distressed; but presently he brightened.
``Yes,'' he said, `` ef hit ain't on a turtle's back.''
Literally I threw up both hands and back we trailed--fishless.
``Reckon you won't need that two-hoss wagon,'' said Buck. ``No, Buck, I think not.'' Buck looked at the Blight and gave himself the pleasure of his first chuckle. A big crackling, cheerful fire awaited us. Through the door I could see, outstretched on a bed in the next room, the limp figure of ``pap'' in alcoholic sleep. The old mother, big, kind- faced, explained--and there was a heaven of kindness and charity in her drawling voice.
``Dad didn' often git that a-way,'' she said; ``but he'd been out a-huntin' hawgs that mornin' and had met up with some teamsters and gone to a political speakin' and had tuk a dram or two of their mean whiskey, and not havin' nothin' on his stummick, hit had all gone to his head. No, `pap' didn't git that a-way often, and he'd be all right jes' as soon as he slept it off a while.'' The old woman moved about with a cane and the sympathetic Blight merely looked a question at her.
``Yes, she'd fell down a year ago--and had sort o' hurt herself--didn't do nothin', though, 'cept break one hip,'' she added, in her kind, patient old voice. Did many people stop there? Oh, yes, sometimes fifteen at a time--they ``never turned nobody away.'' And she had a big family, little Cindy and the two
``What about?''
``Oh, nothin','' said Buck carelessly; ``only he's been quar ever since. My sisters says he's got a gal over thar, an' he's a-pickin' off these rings more'n ever now. He's going to win or bust a belly- band.''
``Well, who's Dave Branham?''
Buck grinned. ``You jes axe my sister Mollie. Thar she is.''
Before us was a white-framed house of logs in the porch of which stood two stalwart, good-looking girls. Could we stay all night? We could--there was no hesitation--and straight in we rode.
``Where's your father?'' Both girls giggled, and one said, with frank unembarrassment:
``Pap's tight!'' That did not look promising, but we had to stay just the same. Buck helped me to unhitch the mules, helped me also to catch minnows, and in half an hour we started down the river to try fishing before dark came. Buck trotted along.
``Have you got a wagon, Buck?''
``What fer?''
``To bring the fish back.'' Buck was not to be caught napping.
``We got that sled thar, but hit won't be big enough,'' he said gravely. ``An' our two-hoss wagon's out in the cornfield. We'll have to string the fish, leave 'em in the river and go fer 'em in the mornin'.''
``All right, Buck.'' The Blight was greatly amused at Buck.
Two hundred yards down the road stood his sisters over the figure of a man outstretched in the road. Unashamed, they smiled at us. The man in the road was ``pap''--tight--and they were trying to get him home.
We cast into a dark pool farther down and fished most patiently; not a bite--not a nibble.
``Are there any fish in here, Buck?''
``Dunno--used ter be.'' The shadows deepened; we must go back to the house.
``Is there a dam below here, Buck?''
``Yes, thar's a dam about a half-mile down the river.''
I was disgusted. No wonder there were no bass in that pool.
``Why didn't you tell me that before?''
``You never axed me,'' said Buck placidly.
I began winding in my line.
``Ain't no bottom to that pool,'' said Buck.
Now I never saw any rural community where there was not a bottomless pool, and I suddenly determined to shake one tradition in at least one community. So I took an extra fish-line, tied a stone to it, and climbed into a canoe, Buck watching me, but not asking a word.
``Get in, Buck.''
Silently he got in and I pushed off--to the centre.
``This the deepest part, Buck?''
``I reckon so.''
I dropped in the stone and the line reeled out some fifty feet and began to coil on the surface of the water.
``I guess that's on the bottom, isn't it, Buck?''
Buck looked genuinely distressed; but presently he brightened.
``Yes,'' he said, `` ef hit ain't on a turtle's back.''
Literally I threw up both hands and back we trailed--fishless.
``Reckon you won't need that two-hoss wagon,'' said Buck. ``No, Buck, I think not.'' Buck looked at the Blight and gave himself the pleasure of his first chuckle. A big crackling, cheerful fire awaited us. Through the door I could see, outstretched on a bed in the next room, the limp figure of ``pap'' in alcoholic sleep. The old mother, big, kind- faced, explained--and there was a heaven of kindness and charity in her drawling voice.
``Dad didn' often git that a-way,'' she said; ``but he'd been out a-huntin' hawgs that mornin' and had met up with some teamsters and gone to a political speakin' and had tuk a dram or two of their mean whiskey, and not havin' nothin' on his stummick, hit had all gone to his head. No, `pap' didn't git that a-way often, and he'd be all right jes' as soon as he slept it off a while.'' The old woman moved about with a cane and the sympathetic Blight merely looked a question at her.
``Yes, she'd fell down a year ago--and had sort o' hurt herself--didn't do nothin', though, 'cept break one hip,'' she added, in her kind, patient old voice. Did many people stop there? Oh, yes, sometimes fifteen at a time--they ``never turned nobody away.'' And she had a big family, little Cindy and the two