Jimmie Moore of Bucktown Part 11

"It's Floe," said Dave. "She can beat 'em all singin'."

"Gee, don't she look swell! I'd hardly know her," said Gene Dibble.

"Before I sing this song for you," she said in a clear, sweet voice, "I wish to say something about it. Most of you, no doubt, know this song and many of you like it, but to me it means more than any song I could sing. It simply tells my life story. Let me read it to you.

"When I was but a little child, how well I recollect, How I would grieve my mother with my folly and neglect.

And now that she has gone to Heaven, I miss her tender care, Oh, angels, tell my mother I'll be there.

"Tell mother I'll be there, in answer to her prayer, This message, guardian angel, to her bear.

Tell mother I'll be there, Heaven's joys with her to share, Yes, tell my darling mother, I'll be there.

"When I was often wayward, she was always kind and good, So patient, gentle, loving, when I acted rough and rude.

My childhood griefs and trials, she would gladly with me share, Oh, angels, tell my mother I'll be there.

"When I became a prodigal and left the old roof-tree, She almost broke her loving heart in grieving after me.

And day and night she prayed to G.o.d to keep me in His care, Oh, angels, tell my mother I'll be there.

"One day a message came to me, it bade me quickly come, If I would see my mother ere the Saviour took her home.

I promised her before she died for Heaven to prepare, Oh, angels, tell my mother I'll be there.

"This last verse has been enacted in my life within the past week. Mrs. Morton had written home and told father and mother that I was with her. This message came the next day, 'Come at once. Mother is dying'; it was signed 'From your Father.' In company with Mrs. Morton I reached the old home at four o'clock the next afternoon. I used to think the place was lonely and dreary, but I can never tell you how glad I was to set my foot in the old yard once more. Everything looked so good to me, and the same old apple tree where I used to swing when I was a little girl seemed to welcome me home. Dear old Rover came to meet me and, although it had been three years since he saw me, he knew me. We hugged each other and in his dog way he made me feel that I still had a place in his warm heart. The night I left home, the old dog followed me down the road and it nearly broke my heart when I had to send him back; he loved me when I thought all the world hated me. As I reached the porch, father came to the door. Oh, how different he looked! When I left home he was strong and active and now he is bent with sorrow, sorrow that my sin has brought to him. He took me in his arms and kissed me again and again. I tried to ask him for forgiveness; but he would not listen to me. 'You have been forgiven ever since you left home that awful night, and I have searched for three years to find you and tell you so. But come, my child, you must see your mother; she has been calling for you ever since her sickness.' He led the way into mother's bed chamber. 'Here's daughter, Mother,' he said.

"'Oh, I knew you'd come,' she said with a feeble voice; 'I just knew that G.o.d would send you to me before He called me home.

Raise me up, child, I can't see you.'

"I lifted her frail body and held her in my arms and--and--well, after I made the promise that is in this last verse, she smiled and, with her eyes turned heavenward, my dear, sweet mother went to be with Jesus. You all know my life, how I suffered for my sin; I tried to forget father, mother, home and G.o.d.

Loving hands have lifted me back to life once more and Jesus has saved me from it all and I can truthfully say, 'Oh, angels, tell my mother I'll be there.'"

The song that followed carried everything before it, and nearly every one was weeping. The rich contralto voice was never better and Floe was singing from her very soul. She forgot the people around her, she was in another world. When the chorus had been sung for the last verse the male quartet took it up, singing softly, and seemed to carry that crowd into the very heaven of which Floe had been singing.

Morton closed the meeting in prayer and was inviting them to accept Jesus as their Saviour. While he was talking, Floe stepped from the wagon to join Mrs. Morton; as she pa.s.sed Jewey he made a remark to her and insultingly referred to her past life.

Gene Dibble, hearing it, threw his coat to Dave Beach, and stepping up to Jewey said, "Get out of your clothes and square yourself.

No man can insult a girl that's tryin' ter trot square and make me like it." There was an old grudge of long standing between these men and every one knew that a fight was unavoidable; both men were strong and each had a reputation as a fighter to sustain.

"Give 'em room," cried Dave. "We'll see fair play."

"Oh, Mr. Dibble," cried Floe, "don't fight for me. I deserve all he said and more."

Gene turned to Floe, and awkwardly raising his hat was about to speak, when Jewey said, tauntingly, "Oh, I guess he ain't looking fer it very bad; he was just bluffin' anyhow."

Jimmie took Floe by the hand and pulled her away from the ring that Dave had formed by crowding the people back. Every one wanted to see Jewey whipped, but all knew that Gene had his hands full to do it.

It is not the purpose of the story to describe this fight, but, from a fighter's standpoint, it was a beauty. Gene had just come from the North woods and he was hard and strong, and had better wind than his antagonist. It was give and take from the start; blood was flowing freely on both sides. Jewey was becoming winded and began to beat the air and strike very wild.

"Keep out an upper cut," said Dave, "you've got him coming all right."

Gene pulled himself together and went in to finish his man.

With a right swing, he caught him square on the point of the jaw; in short, as Dave said, "Gene won it in a walk. Bully for Gene!"

On the way to the Mission, Morton sat with his head in his hands.

"Beat again," he said. "Every time I get that people together the devil spoils the whole business."

CHAPTER XII

_Fred Hanks_

The topic of conversation in Bucktown on Sunday evening was the Gospel wagon service. Many little groups were seen here and there talking about Floe, Bill, the singing or the fight.

Every one but Mrs. Kinney liked some part of the service, but she was never known to be pleased with anything.

"The idea of Bill Cook sayin' the things he did! And if I'd 'a' been his wife I'd hide my face. My! I was ashamed fer him.

I'll bet he'll be drunk for weeks out and I jus' wish he would,"

she said.

When some one said they thought the singing was fine, Mrs. Kinney said, "Hum, you call that singin'? That big feller that stood on the end and singed ba.s.s looks like a catfish when he opened his mouth. The fellow that plays the organ looks for all the world like a girl, and if you call that singin', I wish you could hear the singin' I heard at the Indian Medicine Show last summer; that's what I call real singin'. And that Floe standin'

up there, singin' afore that big crowd and her mother hardly cold in her coffin! The style is that she mus' not go in 'siety fer a year, and if you call that singin' you don't know the first principle of music er 'siety. To my way of thinkin', them big horses should be a-workin' 'stead o' hawlin' a lot o' lazy galoots around town fer pleasure. Why, that Morton wears as good clothes as the undertaker. I'll bet he steals the money out of the collection box at the Mission."

Mrs. Kinney never missed an opportunity to express her opinion and the neighbors knew just what to expect from her. She was the only person in the neighborhood who dared criticise Dave Beach.

"He's a devil, and you'll all find it out when it's too late,"

she said.

At the Mission the house was packed and several who had been at the Bucktown wagon service were in the audience. Gene Dibble was there with a "shanty" over his eye, his lip was swelled to twice its natural size and his right hand was tied up in a red handkerchief. He certainly looked the worse for wear.

He dropped into a back seat and not a word sung or spoken escaped him.

When Floe arose to sing, by request, the same song of the afternoon, Gene straightened up, and before she was half through the song he was standing on tiptoe. Floe saw him as he stood there and recognized him as the man who had fought to defend her that day.

At the close of the meeting, Morton gave an invitation and Gene was the first one to raise his hand for prayer. He raised the one with the red handkerchief about it and Floe went at once to the rear of the room, to speak to him about his soul.

"I'm so sorry to have caused you all this trouble," she said.

"You would not be in this condition to-night were it not for me."

"That's nothin'; I'd 'a' done it fer any girl that's tryin'

to trot square. It's that song that's botherin' me, not the fight. Do you think I could ever be a Christian like you folks talk about? I have a good mother, but I'll never meet her there like you sing about in the song, the way I'm goin' now; what will I do?"

When Floe and Gene walked up the aisle together, several people from Bucktown saw them. Before Gene could reach Dave's barn the news had preceded him. When Gene and Jimmie walked into the barn, Dave leaped to his feet and, taking Gene's free hand in his, said, "You're right in the step you've taken to-night and I'm glad for you. I know that your life can be a useful one and I don't want any one to put a straw in your way. No, don't say a word about that; it's not for me, but I feel just as much pleased to see you get into it as if it were for me.

I know it is right, but I've lost my chance."

At the conference in Morton's home the next morning, there was a time of great rejoicing, also a time of great anxiety. Jimmie was very happy over Gene's conversion.

"We'll git der whole bunch yet," he said to Morton. "Der was five of 'em at the altar from Bucktown, last night, 'sides Gene.

Fred Hanks was er comin' ter der Mission, but he got pinched at der railroad crossin' fer bein' drunk. f.a.gin give 'm four big drinks and er bottle ter start on, den steered him fer der meetin'. He got nabbed 'fore he got dere."

f.a.gin had hoped to have Fred cause a disturbance at the meeting.