More Jonathan Papers Part 19

But he was gone, and I heard the snap of the lantern and the slam of the back door almost before the rocking-chair in the sitting-room that he had hitand talked tohad stopped rocking. Then I heard him calling outside Hirams window and then he ran past our window, out to the barn. I wished he had waited for Hiram, but I had an undercurrent of pleasure in hearing him run. Jonathans theory is that there is never any hurry, and now and then I like to have this notion jolted up a little.

Meanwhile the awful sounds had ceased. There was the rumble of the stable door, a pause, and Jonathans voice in conversational tones. Next came the flashing of Hirams lantern, and the _tromp, tromp, tromp_, in much quicker tempo than usual, of Hirams heavy boots. Hirams theory was a good deal like Jonathans, so this also gave me pleasure. Finally, there came the flash of another lantern, and I recognized the quick, short step of Mrs. Hiram. I smiled to myself, picturing the meeting between her and Jonathan, for I knew just how Jonathan was costumed. In two minutes I heard her steps repa.s.sing, and in five minutes Jonathan returned. He was chuckling quietly.

I guess Griz got all she neededdidnt know either of em had so much s.p.u.n.k in em.

What happened?

Dont know, exactly, but when I opened that door, there was Griz, just inside, no halter on, head down, meek as Moses, as far away from Kits heels as she could getshes got the mark of them on her leg and her flank.

Is she hurt?or Kit?

No, not so far as we can see, not to amount to anythingexcept maybe Grizs feelings.

And what about Mrs. Hirams feelings?

Jonathan laughed aloud. I was inside with Kit, and she called out to know if she could help.

And what did you say?

I said, Not on your life.

So that was why she came back. Did you really say,Not on your life, or did you only imply it in your tone, while you actually said, No, thank you very much?

I really said it. At least, I dont remember conversations the way you do, but I didnt feel a bit like thanking anybody, and I dont believe I did.

Well, I wish Id heard you. One misses a good deal

You can see the stable to-morrow. Thatll keep. They must have had a time of it! The walls are marked and splintered as high as I can reach. And I dont believe Kitll cringe when Griz pa.s.ses her any more.

Of course you remember Hiram _said_ two mares didnt usually get on very well, and even when theyre chosen by a good judge of horses

After that the two did get along peaceably enough, and Jonathan a.s.sured me that all horses had these little affairs. One day we drove over to the main street of the village on an errand.

Will she stand? I questioned.

Better hitch her, perhaps, said Jonathan, getting out the rope. He snapped it into her bit-ring, then threw the other end around a post and started to make a half-hitch. But as he drew up the rope it was suddenly jerked out of his hand. He looked up and saw Griseldas patient head waving high above him on the end of an erect and rebellious neck, the hitch-rope waggling in loops and spirals in the air, and the whole outfit backing away from him with speed and decision. He was so astonished that he did nothing, and in a moment Griz had stopped backing and stood still, her head sagging gently, the rope dangling.

WellIllbe I didnt try to remember just what Jonathan said he would be, because it doesnt really matter. We both stared at Griz as if we had never seen her before. Griz looked at nothing in particular, she blinked long lashes over drowsy, dark eyes, and sagged one hip.

Shes trying to make believe she didnt do itbut she did, I said.

Something must have startled her, said Jonathan, peering up and down the deserted street. Two roosters were crowing antiphonally in near-by yards, and a dog was barking somewhere far off.

What? I said.

You never can tell, with a horse.

No, apparently not, I said, smiling to myself; and I added hastily, as I saw Jonathan go forward to her head, _Dont_ try it again, please! Ill stay by her while you go in. _Please!_ For I had detected on Jonathans face a look that I very well knew. It was the same expression he had worn that Sunday he led the calf to pasture. He made no answer, but stood examining the hitch-rope.

No use, he said, quietly releasing it and tossing its coil into the carriage, Its too rotten. If it snapped, shed be ruined.

I breathed freer. I privately hoped that all the hitch-ropes at the farm were rotten.

Griz stands perfectly well without hitching, I said as we drove home, Why do you force an issue?

I didnt. She did. Shes beaten me. If I dont hitch her now, sh.e.l.l know shes master.

Oh, dear! I sighed. Let her _be_ master! Wheres the harm? Its just your vanity.

Perhaps so, said Jonathan.

When he agrees with me like that I know its hopeless.

The next night he wheeled in at the big gate bearing about his shoulders a coil of heavy rope.

It looks like a ships cable, I said.

Yes, he responded, leaning his bicycle against his side, and swinging the coil over his head. I want it for mooring purposes. Think itll moor Griz?

Jonathan! I exclaimed, you wont!

Watch me, said Jonathan, and he proceeded to explain to me the working of the tackle.

One end had a ring in it, and as nearly as I remember, the plan was to put the rope around her body, under what would be her arm-pits if she had arm-pits,horses joints are never called what one would expect, of course,run the end through the ring, then forward between her legs and through the bit-ring.

Then, when she sets back, it cuts her in two, he concluded cheerfully.

But you dont _want_ her in two, I protested.

She wont set back, he responded; at least, not more than once.

To-morrows Sunday; Ill have to hitch her at church.

I hoped it would rain, so we neednt go, but we were having a drought and the morning dawned cloudless. We reached the church just on the last stroke of the bell. The women were all within; the men and boys lounging in the vestibule were turning reluctant feet to follow them.

You go right in, said Jonathan, Ill be in soon.

I turned to protest, but he was already driving round to the side, and a hush had fallen over the congregation within that made it embarra.s.sing to call. Besides, one of the deacons stood holding open the door for me.

I slipped into a pew near the back, with the apologetic feeling one often has in an old country churcha feeling that one is making the ghosts move along a little. They did move, of course,probably ghosts are always polite when one really meets them,and I sat down. Indeed, I was thinking very little of ghosts that day, or of the minister either. My ears were c.o.c.ked to catch and interpret all the noises that came in through the open windows on my left. My eyes wandered in that direction, too, though the clear panes revealed nothing more exciting than flickering maple leaves and a sky filmed over by veils of cloud.

The moralists tell us that what we get out of any experience depends upon what we bring to it. What I brought to it that morning was a mind agog, attuned to receive these expected outside sounds. To all such sounds the service within was merely a backgrounda background which didnt know its place, since it kept pushing itself more or less importunately into the foreground. I sat there, of course, with perfect propriety of demeanor, but my reactions were something like this:

_Hymn 912_ seven stanzas! horrors! oh! _omit the 3d, 5th, and 6th_well, I should hope so! I cant hear a thing while this is going on! He hasnt come in yet! _Scripture reading for to-day_why cant he give us the pa.s.sage and let us read it for ourselves?well, his voice is rather high and uneven, I think I could make out Jonathans through the loopholes in it. There! What was that, I wonder! Sounded like shouting,oh, why cant he talk softly! _Let us unite in prayer._ Ah! now well have a long, quiet time, anyway! if only he wouldnt pray quite so loud! Why pray aloud at all, anyway? I like the Quaker way best: a good long strip of silence, where your thoughts can wash around in any fashion thatThere!

Noyesnoits just people going by on the road. Maybe hes in the back of the church now, waiting for the close of the prayer. Seems as if I had to look. Well, he isnt. _For thy names sake, amen._

And then the collection, with an organ voluntary the whilenow why an organ voluntary? Why not leave people to their thoughts some of the time?