Kitabı oku: «The Carter Girls», sayfa 7

Bobby was in a state of extreme bliss. He had been allowed to help Josh feed Josephus and now he was permitted to come to supper without doing more towards purifying himself than just “renching the Germans” off his hands and face. He was to sleep in the tent with his Cousin Lewis, too.

The girls’ tent was pitched just behind the Englishman’s cabin, while the masculine quarters were nearer the pavilion.

“We will put up other tents as we need them,” said Lewis. “We have chopped down enough trees and cleared enough ground to camp the whole of Richmond.”

“Thank goodness, our boarders won’t come for a week yet and we can have time to enjoy ourselves for a while,” sighed Douglas.

She was very tired but it was not the miserable fatigue she had felt in town. It was a good healthy tired that meant a night’s rest with nothing to think about but how good life was and how kind people were. Everything was certainly working out well. Cousin Lizzie was behaving in a wonderful way for an old lady who thought much of her ease and had no love of Nature. Helen and Lucy were too interested to squabble at all and so were getting on splendidly. Bobby was behaving himself beautifully, and even the servants were rising to the occasion and evidently intending to do their best. The only fly in the ointment was their attitude towards Josh and his towards them. He openly called them “niggers,” and they called him “po’ white” right to his face. Gwen, they seemed to have accepted at her face value and not judged by her bare feet and scanty frock.

“Niggers, an’ min’ you, Miss Douglas, we don’t ’low nobody but us to call us out of our names that way,” said Oscar. “Niggers is reg’lar bloodhoun’s an’ they kin smell out quality same as geologists kin. Me’n Susan knows that that there little Miss Gwen is a lady bawn.”

“I believe she is, Oscar, and I hope you and Susan will be just as nice to her as you can be.”

“We’ll do our best, but land’s sake, Miss Douglas, don’ arsk us to be gentle with that there Josh. He is low flung and mischeevous to that extent.”

“All right, Oscar,” laughed Douglas, “but don’t be too hard on him.” Lewis had told her that Josh was fully capable of taking care of himself and in the trial of wits Josh would certainly come out ahead.

“He already done scart Susan to death, tellin’ her about hants in the mountings. He says that Miss Gwen’s paw was pestered by a ringin’ an’ buzzin’ in his haid that drove him ’stracted, and he used to roam the mountings trying to git shet of the sound, til bynby he couldn’t stan’ it no mo an’ up’n jumped off’n a place called the Devil’s Gorge and brack ev’y bone in his body. An’ he sayed the Englishman still hants these here parts an’ you can hear the buzzin’ an’ ringin’ sometimes jes’ as plain as the po’ man uster hear it in his life time. He say he won’t come over here arfter nightfall to save yo neck.”

“What nonsense!” declared Douglas. “Well, all the buzzing on earth won’t keep me awake,” but before she went to sleep, she recounted the ridiculous tale to her three sisters, who shared the tent with her.

They agreed that they would have to ask Lewis to speak to Josh about telling such things to poor Susan, who was already eaten up with superstition.

“Ain’t it grand to sleep in a – ?” but Lucy was asleep before she said what it was grand to sleep in. Nan tried to recall some lines of Wordsworth that Gwen reminded her of, but “The sweetest thing that ever grew,” was all she could think of before sleep got her, too. Helen forgot to put olive oil on her eyebrows, a darkening process she was much interested in, and went off into happy, dreamless slumber. Douglas shut her tired eyes and sleep claimed her for its own before she could count ten.

CHAPTER XII
HANTS

“Help! Help!” The call was followed by a blood-curdling shriek that drowned the noise of tree frogs and whip-poor-wills.

Douglas and Nan both awoke with a start and Helen stirred in her sleep. Lewis, over at the men’s tent, made a mental note that he must go out with a gun early in the morning and try to shoot that screech owl. Bill, whose passion next to soldiering was base ball, muttered an unintelligible something about: “Ball two! Strike one! Rotten umpire!”

Oscar heard it, and remembering the terrible tales Josh had been telling, drew his blanket up close over his wool. “Walls don’t keep hants out no better’n canvas, but all the same I’d like to know they was somethin’ more substantiated around this nigger than jist a dog tent. I’s gonter git some cotton to stuff in my years ’ginst anudder night,” he said to himself.

“Help! Help!” again rang out. “The debble is got me! Gawd in Hebben help me!”

“Susan!” gasped the three older girls. They were out of their cots and into kimonos by the help of a flash light Helen had under her pillow, before the call came again. The three-quarter moon had set but the stars gave light enough for them to see the two young men in full tilt, coming to their assistance, rifles in hand and striped bath gowns flapping around bare legs.

“Help! My sweet Gawd, help!”

Miss Somerville had more fear of germs than anything else, so slept with her door wide open. Being a very thorough person in anything she undertook whether it was solitaire, knitting scarves, chaperoning or sleeping, Miss Somerville was now sleeping with all her might. She had pitched her – what would be called a snore in a plebeian person, but we will call it her breathing, – she had pitched her breathing in harmony with the tree frogs and katydids and was now hitting off a very pretty tune.

Up the chicken steps the young folks trooped, Lewis in front with the flash light, Miss Somerville still sleeping the sleep of the virtuous and just. Poor Susan was lying on her shelf-like bed, her head covered up, having emerged only for yelling purposes and then quickly covering herself again. Her great feet were sticking out at the bottom and on them were perched three large hornets, stinging at their ease. A kerosene lamp, turned down too low and smelling at an unseemly rate, was on the box that served as a table. The windows were tightly closed because of her weak lungs and the air could almost have been cut with its combination of odors, cheap-scented soap, musk and just plain Susan.

“Susan, Susan! What is the matter?” demanded Douglas.

“Oh, little Mistis! That English hant has got me by the toe. I was expecting him after what that there po’ white boy done tol’ me, but I thought maybe he would be held off by Miss Lizzie Somerville. Hants ain’t likely to worry the quality.”

“Nonsense, Susan, nothing has you by the toe,” said Helen sternly. “You must have had nightmare.”

“But look at the hornets!” exclaimed Nan. “Why, the room is full of them.”

Then such an opening of windows and tumbling down that trap door as ensued! Susan had bounced out of bed to join them, regardless of the young men, but since she was enveloped in a high-necked, very thick pink outing flannel gown she was really more clothed than any of them.

“I’d fight ’em if I had on more clothes,” declared Bill, as he landed on the floor below.

“Ouch! One got me on the shin then,” from Lewis.

“One’s down my neck!” squealed Helen.

“Shut the trap door so they won’t disturb Cousin Lizzie,” commanded Douglas.

They got out of doors without Miss Somerville’s even dropping a stitch from the raveled sleeve of care she was so industriously knitting. “You could almost two-step to it,” drawled Nan, nursing a stung finger.

Bill went off into one of his uncontrollable bursts of laughter and the peaceful sleeper stirred.

“Shh! Bill, you must dry up,” warned Lewis. “I’ll get out another cot and Susan can finish the night in Aunt Lizzie’s room.”

“Oh, Mr. Lewis, please don’t make me go back in yonder. The debble will git me sho next time. I’s safter out under the ferment of the stars.”

“You can come into our tent, Susan,” said Helen kindly. “We are not going to have you scared to death.” So the extra cot was brought and room was made for the poor, trembling vision in pink outing flannel.

“Tell us what it was that got you scared,” asked Nan when they had once more settled themselves and the young men had gone back to their quarters, much relieved at the way things had turned out.

“Well, that there low-flung Josh was tellin’ me ’bout a English hant what had suffered with a buzzin’ an’ roarin’ in his haid ter that extent he done los’ his reason an’ one dark night he up’n kilt hissef. An’ they do say that the po’ man still ain’t got no rest from the buzzin’ an’ he hants these parts, and sometimes them what is ‘dicted ter hants kin hear de buzzin’ and roarin’, ’cause even though the hant is laid the buzzin’ an’ roarin’ roams the mountings lak a lost soul. Whin I gits in the baid, I was plum tuckered out so I didn’ wase no time but was soon sleepin’ the sleep that falls alike on the jest an’ the onjest. I wuck up with a smotherin’ feelin’.”

“I should think you would, with not a bit of air in your room!”

“I wuck up, as I say, kinder smotherin’ like an’ then I hears the English hant as plain as day. Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Brrrr! Brrrr! ‘My Gawd,’ says I, ‘pertect me.’ I tun over in the baid an’ then the buzzin’ sounded lak the rushin’ of mighty water. ‘Mebbe he will pass on by me an’ go to Uncle Oscar,’ thinks I. ‘He was the one what scoffed at Josh’s tellin’ of the tale.’ I kivered my haid an’ then that hant got me by the toe.”

“But, Susan,” laughed Douglas, “of course you know it was a hornet that had you by the toe.”

“You mought think it, Miss Douglas, but hants is powerful slick the way they kin change theysefs ter natural things. That debble jes’ changed ter hornesses ter mysterfy all of you white folks. He was a debble hant up ter the physological moment all of you appeared. I knows lots about hants from my books.”

“Well, I know a lot about hornets from experience,” said Helen, trying to reach the stung place between her shoulders.

“Me, too,” drawled Nan. “My finger is twice its natural size.”

“Well, let’s all of us go to sleep now,” said Douglas. “You are not afraid in here, are you, Susan?”

“No’m – ” and the girl was off asleep in less time than it had taken her to arouse most of the campers.

“Helen,” whispered Douglas, “I am afraid Josh is responsible for the hornets. It sounds as though he had prepared his way to scare Susan by telling the ghost story first.”

“I am afraid it is so. We will have to see to that youngster.”

“I think Lewis can handle him. I’ll ask him in the morning. In the meantime, I will tell Susan not to mention the ‘hants’ and maybe Josh will give himself away with curiosity.”

It was a hard task her young mistresses had set Susan.

“Thain’t nothin’ ’tall ter hants if you cyarn’t tell about ’em,” she grumbled.

“Well, just wait a day, Susan, and then you can tell all you’ve a mind to.”

At breakfast that morning Miss Somerville complained that her rest had been very much broken but that she had slept much better than she had ever expected to.

“I am at best a light sleeper,” she remarked. “The smallest thing disturbs me. Now I distinctly heard Mr. Tinsley laugh, although he must have been in his own tent.”

This was too much for poor Bill, who went off into one of his specialties.

“I’d ruther to laugh like that than sing like Robinson Crusoe in the victrola,” said Bobby. “I kin holler real loud but I ain’t nothin’ of a big laugher. Josh, he don’t make no noise ’tall when he laughs. He jist shakes his innards. He was shakin’ em this morning ’cause Susan said she had a bee sting on her toe, the reason she is a-limpin’ so.”

Helen and Douglas exchanged glances with the young men, whom they had informed of their suspicions regarding the humorous Josh.

“Douglas,” said Miss Somerville, “I can’t see why Bobby should use the language of a negro. He is quite old enough to begin to speak properly.”

“Well, you see, Cousin Lizzie, he is really nothing but a baby, and Mother and Father have never corrected him because Father said he would drop it soon enough and he thinks it is so amusing.”

“Baby, your grandmother! I am ’most a man an’ Josh is goin’ ter learn me how to say we uns an’ you uns like he does. He says his teacher an’ Gwen is tryin’ to make him talk properer, but he ain’t goin’ to talk no way but what his four bears talks. I wish I had four bears what could talk. I forgot to ask Josh to tell me about them bears but I will, some time.”

CHAPTER XIII
THE AVENGING ANGEL

“Josh,” said Lewis to the mountain boy, whose blue eyes had an extra twinkle in them that morning as he hitched his mule to a nearby pine tree, waiting for orders, “are you afraid of hornets?”

“Not if we uns kin git some kerosene smeared on in time.”

“Well, you smear on some kerosene in time and go get that hornet’s nest out of Susan’s room.”

“Well, bless Bob! How did you uns know we uns put it thar under her bed?”

“Never mind how I knew it. You just go and get it and take it far from the camp and then come back here and report for work.”

Josh winked at Josephus and went to do Mr. Somerville’s bidding.

“He don’t look mad,” thought Josh. “I hope he ain’t mad with we uns.” Josh had met his idol in Lewis Somerville. Boylike he admired strength more than anything in the world, and could not this young giant lift a log and place it on his shoulders and carry it to the desired spot as easily as he himself could carry a twig? There was a poetical streak in this mountain boy, too, that saw in Lewis the young knight. “’Tain’t nothin’ to fool a nigger,” he comforted himself by saying.

“Well, sir,” he said cheerfully to Lewis, “the hornets is all good as dead. What must we uns do now?”

“Now you are going to take your punishment for being no gentleman.”

“Gentleman! Huh! We uns ain’t never set up to be no gentleman.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. When I hired you to come work for my cousins, I understood, of course, that you were a gentleman. Otherwise I would not have considered you for a moment. Do you suppose I would have any one come around these ladies who are everything in the world to me if he were not a gentleman?”

“There’s that nigger, Oscar! We uns is as good as he is. He ain’t no gentleman.”

“He is as good a gentleman as there is in the land. He came up here with these young ladies whom he has known ever since they were babies rather than desert them when he thought he might be needed. I have never known Oscar to say a coarse word or do an ungentle act. I, too, have known him all my life. He is a good, clean man, inside and out, and would cut off his hand before he would scare a helpless woman.”

“’Twan’t nothin’ but a nigger ’ooman!”

“You say nothing but a negro as though that were the lowest thing in the world, and still just now you spoke with a certain pride of being as good as one. Now I tell you, you are not as good as one unless you act better. You have a long line of free English ancestors behind you and these poor things are but recently out of slavery. Now you come with me and take your punishment if you want to stay and work for this camp.”

Josh looked rather startled. Did this young gentleman mean to beat him, and all because he had put a hornet’s nest under a silly colored girl’s bed? Josh had received many a licking from his raw-boned mother, and when Aunt Mandy whipped, she whipped. He was not afraid of the physical hurt of a beating, but that line of English ancestors of which Lewis had spoken all rebelled in this, their little descendant, against being beaten by any one who was no blood kin.

“March!” said Lewis.

Well, if he were to go to execution like a soldier, he could stand it better. With flashing eyes and head well up, Josh walked on by Lewis’s side.

The camp builders had fashioned, with great ingenuity, a shower bath to one side of the kitchen and store-room under the pavilion. The mountain spring was dug out into a very respectable reservoir, and this was piped down to furnish running water in the kitchen and a strong shower in this rough lean-to of a bath-room. The water was cold and clear and the fall was so great that the spray felt like needles. The young men reveled in this vigorous bathing and the Carter girls had taken a go at it and one and all pronounced it grand.

Josh looked upon this enthusiasm on the subject of mere bathing as affectation. Miss Somerville might have had the same attitude of mind towards persons who liked Limberger cheese or read Sanskrit for pleasure.

Lewis directed his prisoner to this bath-house.

“Anyhow, we uns ain’t gonter git licked befo’ the niggers,” thought Josh with some satisfaction.

“Now take off your clothes,” said Lewis sternly.

So he was more thorough than his mother. She contented herself with tickling him on his bare legs, and if the black snake whip could cut through the thin rags he called clothes, all well and good. Josh never remembered her having tackled him in a state of nature. He made no demur, however. If this, his idol, chose to beat him naked, he could do it. He hoped he would draw the blood just so he, Josh, could show these people from the valley how a mountain boy could take what was coming to him without a whimper.

He dropped the ragged shirt and trousers that constituted his entire clothing and stood before the avenging hero, a thin, wiry little figure about the color of a new potato that has but recently left its bed.

“Now, sir!” he flung out defiantly.

“Stand in the middle of the room,” and Lewis began to roll up his shirt sleeves. Josh closed his eyes for a moment. Where was the stick or whip? Did the young gentleman mean to spank him like a baby? That would be too much. Even Aunt Mandy had given up spanking years and years ago.

“Ugh!”

Josh jumped as something struck him suddenly and remembered, as a drowning man might, an incident in his childhood when Aunt Mandy was still in the spanking era. She had gone for him with a hair brush and had inadvertently turned the brush up-side-down and he had got the full benefit of the bristles on his bare hide.

Lewis had turned on the shower full force and the little new potato was emerging from its coating of Mother Earth. Gasping and spluttering, Josh stood his ground. He wanted to run into a far corner to escape this terrible fusillade, but an inward grit that was greater than the outward show made him stay in the spot where his commander had first placed him. Lewis gradually lessened the force of the shower and once more the culprit could breathe. He gave a long, gasping sigh and then grinned into the face of his monitor.

“Gee, that was the wust beatin’ we uns ever got! Somehow all the nigger-hate ain’t washed out’n we unses’ hide yit. Mebbe you uns had best turn it on agin.”

“All right, but take this soap first and lather yourself all over.”

That was more than Josh had bargained for, but the soap was nice and fresh smelling and the lather came without labor. This form of ablution was very different from what Josh had been accustomed to. His idea of a bath had always been first the toting of much water from the spring, a truly difficult task, for, with the short sightedness of country people, of course their cabin was built far above the spring instead of below it. This letting gravity help do the work is a comparatively new thing and one that country people have not generally adopted. Then, to Josh, the bath meant chopping of more wood to make the fire to heat the water. Then a steaming wash tub and the doughty Aunt Mandy equipped with a can of foul-smelling, home-made soft soap and a scrubbing brush.

This delightful tingling of his unaccustomed skin with the nice white soap was a sensation that seemed to Josh the most wonderful he had ever experienced. All of these delights with no labor attached to the enjoyment of them! Just turn a handle and there you are, clean and cool, laundried while you wait.

“Kin we uns do this every week?”

“Every day, if you’ve a mind to. It certainly improves your appearance. Don’t you feel good?”

“Yessirree! Jes’ like a mockin’ bird sounds on a mornin’ in May when his wife wants him to come on and help her build the nes’ aginst the time when she has got to lay the eggs, and he wants to sing all day and jes’ use las’ year’s nes’. Don’t know as we uns ever did feel quite so like a – a – gentleman.”

“Good for you, Josh! Now put on your clothes. Here’s a towel. We’ve got a lot of work to do to-day, and you and Josephus must help.”

“All right, sir! Wish Josephus could a had the beatin’ we uns done got. ’Twould sho have made him feel like he had a extra feedin’ er oats. We uns is ’bliged to you uns, sir. You uns done made a gentleman out’n we uns an’ mebbe a few more showers will turn we uns into a nigger lover,” and Josh’s blue eyes twinkled merrily from the setting of a clean, pink face.

Bobby was the only person not pleased by the improvement in Josh. “Grown-ups is all time wantin’ to clean up folks. Josh was a million times prettier dirty, an’ now he can’t make choclid milk no mo’. I think Cousin Lewis is done ruint him.”

After that morning, whenever Josh was wanted and not to be found he could usually be discovered taking a shower bath. He evidently felt he must make up for lost time, all those years when he had gone crusty, as he expressed it.