The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come [12]
the river, and it was hard work to get him into the water until Jack, who seemed to know what the matter was, sharply nipped several sheep near him. These sprang violently forward, the whole flock in front pushed forward, too, and Beelzebub was thrust from the bank. Nothing else being possible, the old ram settled himself with a snort into the water and made for the other shore. Chad and Jack followed and, when they reached the road, Beelzebub was again a prisoner; the sheep, swollen like sponges, were straggling down the river, and Dillons and Turners were standing around in silence. Jack shook himself and dropped panting in the dust at his master's feet, without so much as an upward glance or a lift of his head for a pat of praise. As old Joel raised one foot heavily to his stirrup, he grunted, quietly:
"Well, I be damned." And when he was comfortably in his saddle he said again, with unction:
"I DO be damned. I'll just take that dawg to help drive them sheep down to town. Come on, boy."
Chad started joyfully, but the old mother called from the door: "Who's a-goin' to take this gal to school, I'd like to know?"
Old Joel pulled in his horse' straightened one leg, and looked all around--first at the Dillons, who had started away, then at Dolph and Rube, who were moving determinedly after the sheep (it was Court Day in town and they could not miss Court Day), and then at Chad, who halted.
"Boy," he said, "don't you want to go to school--you ought to go to school?"
"Yes," said Chad, obediently, though the trip to town--and Chad had never been to a town--was a sore temptation.
"Go on, then, an' tell the teacher I sent ye. Here, Mammy--eh, what's yo' name, boy? Oh, Mammy--Chad, here 'll take her. Take good keer o' that gal, boy, an' learn yo' a-b-abs like a man now."
Melissa came shyly forward from the door and Joel whistled to Jack and called him, but Jack though he liked nothing better than to drive sheep lay still, looking at Chad.
"Go 'long, Jack," said Chad, and Jack sprang up and was off, though he stopped again and looked back, and Chad had to tell him again to go on. In a moment dog, men, and sheep were moving in a cloud of dust around a bend in the road and little Melissa was at the gate.
"Take good keer of 'Lissy," said the mother from the porch, kindly; and Chad, curiously touched all at once by the trust shown him, stalked ahead like a little savage, while Melissa with her basket followed silently behind. The boy never thought of taking the basket himself that is not the way of men with women in the hills and not once did he look around or speak on the way up the river and past the blacksmith's shop and the grist-mill just beyond the mouth of Kingdom Come; but when they arrived at the log school-house it was his turn to be shy and he hung back to let Melissa go in first. Within, there was no floor but the bare earth, no window but the cracks between the logs, and no desks but the flat sides of slabs, held up by wobbling pegs. On one side were girls in linsey and homespun some thin, undersized, underfed, and with weak, dispirited eyes and yellow tousled hair; others, round-faced, round-eyed, dark, and sturdy; most of them large-waisted and round-shouldered--especially the older ones--from work in the fields; but, now and then, one like Melissa, the daughter of a valley farmer, erect, agile, spirited, intelligent. On the other side were the boys, in physical characteristics the same and suggesting the same social divisions: at the top the farmer--now and then a slave-holder and perhaps of gentle blood--who had dropped by the way on the westward march of civilization and had cleared some rich river bottom and a neighboring summit of the mountains, where he sent his sheep and cattle to graze; where a creek opened into this valley some free-settler, whose grandfather had fought at King's Mountain--usually of Scotch-Irish descent, often English, but sometimes German or sometimes even Huguenot--would have his rude home of logs; under him, and in wretched cabins at the head of the creek or on
"Well, I be damned." And when he was comfortably in his saddle he said again, with unction:
"I DO be damned. I'll just take that dawg to help drive them sheep down to town. Come on, boy."
Chad started joyfully, but the old mother called from the door: "Who's a-goin' to take this gal to school, I'd like to know?"
Old Joel pulled in his horse' straightened one leg, and looked all around--first at the Dillons, who had started away, then at Dolph and Rube, who were moving determinedly after the sheep (it was Court Day in town and they could not miss Court Day), and then at Chad, who halted.
"Boy," he said, "don't you want to go to school--you ought to go to school?"
"Yes," said Chad, obediently, though the trip to town--and Chad had never been to a town--was a sore temptation.
"Go on, then, an' tell the teacher I sent ye. Here, Mammy--eh, what's yo' name, boy? Oh, Mammy--Chad, here 'll take her. Take good keer o' that gal, boy, an' learn yo' a-b-abs like a man now."
Melissa came shyly forward from the door and Joel whistled to Jack and called him, but Jack though he liked nothing better than to drive sheep lay still, looking at Chad.
"Go 'long, Jack," said Chad, and Jack sprang up and was off, though he stopped again and looked back, and Chad had to tell him again to go on. In a moment dog, men, and sheep were moving in a cloud of dust around a bend in the road and little Melissa was at the gate.
"Take good keer of 'Lissy," said the mother from the porch, kindly; and Chad, curiously touched all at once by the trust shown him, stalked ahead like a little savage, while Melissa with her basket followed silently behind. The boy never thought of taking the basket himself that is not the way of men with women in the hills and not once did he look around or speak on the way up the river and past the blacksmith's shop and the grist-mill just beyond the mouth of Kingdom Come; but when they arrived at the log school-house it was his turn to be shy and he hung back to let Melissa go in first. Within, there was no floor but the bare earth, no window but the cracks between the logs, and no desks but the flat sides of slabs, held up by wobbling pegs. On one side were girls in linsey and homespun some thin, undersized, underfed, and with weak, dispirited eyes and yellow tousled hair; others, round-faced, round-eyed, dark, and sturdy; most of them large-waisted and round-shouldered--especially the older ones--from work in the fields; but, now and then, one like Melissa, the daughter of a valley farmer, erect, agile, spirited, intelligent. On the other side were the boys, in physical characteristics the same and suggesting the same social divisions: at the top the farmer--now and then a slave-holder and perhaps of gentle blood--who had dropped by the way on the westward march of civilization and had cleared some rich river bottom and a neighboring summit of the mountains, where he sent his sheep and cattle to graze; where a creek opened into this valley some free-settler, whose grandfather had fought at King's Mountain--usually of Scotch-Irish descent, often English, but sometimes German or sometimes even Huguenot--would have his rude home of logs; under him, and in wretched cabins at the head of the creek or on