The Arkansaw Bear Part 6

CHAPTER V

GOOD-BYE TO ARKANSAW

"Oh, the wind blows cold and the wind blows raw, When the night comes on in the Arkansaw-- Yes, the wind blows cold and the snow will fall.

And Bosephus and Horatio must travel through it all."

THE little boy's voice quavered as he sang, and his teeth chattered. It had been more than two months since he started on his travels with Horatio, and the October nights, even in southern Arkansaw, were beginning to be chilly. The night before he had in some way got separated from his friend's warm furry coat and woke shivering. He kindled a fire now, singing as he worked, while Horatio touched the chords of his violin pensively. He did not feel the cold. Nature was providing him with his winter furs.

"Bo," he said presently, "you'll have to have some heavier clothes.

Either that or we'll have to go farther South. As for me, you know, I could go to sleep in a hollow tree and not mind the winter, but you couldn't do it, and I don't intend to, either, this year; we're making too much money for that."

Bo laughed in spite of the cold and jingled his pockets. They were more than half full of coin, and he had a good roll of bills in his jacket besides.

"No," he said; "we are getting along too well. We'll be rich by spring if we keep right on. I'm thinking, though, that we'll never be able to get South fast enough if we walk."

"Look here, Bo; you're not thinking about putting me on that cyclone thing they call a train, are you?"

"Well, not exactly, but yesterday where we performed I heard a fellow say that there was a river right close here, and steamboats. You wouldn't mind a steamboat, would you, Ratio?"

"Of course not. I don't mind anything. I've always wanted to ride on one of those trains, only I knew the people would be frightened at me, and as for a steamboat, why, if I should meet a steamboat coming down the road--"

"But steamboats don't come down the roads, Ratio; they go on the water."

"Water! Water that you drink, and drown things in?"

"Of course! And if the boat goes down we'll be drowned, too."

Horatio struck a few notes on the violin before replying.

"Bo," he said presently, "you're a friend of mine, aren't you? A true friend?"

"Yes, Ratio, you know I am."

"Well, then, don't you go on one of those boats. It would grieve me terribly if anything should happen to you. I might not be able to save you, Bo, and then think how lonely I should be." And Horatio put one paw to his eyes and sobbed.

"Oh, pshaw, Ratio! Why, I can swim like everything. I'm not afraid."

"But you couldn't save us both, Bo--I mean, we both couldn't save the fiddle--it would get wet. Think--think of the fiddle, Bo!"

The fire was burning brightly by this time and the little boy was getting warm. He laughed and rubbed his hands and began to sing:--

"Oh, we're going down the river on a great big boat, And Horatio's so excited he can hardly play a note, For he never liked the water and he never learned to swim, And he thinks if he goes sailing now his chances will be slim."

Horatio stopped short and snorted angrily.

"I want you to understand," he said, sharply, "that I'm not afraid of anything. You'll please remember that night when the forest people danced and you thought your time had come, how I saved you by making you sing. There's nothing I fear. Why if--"

But what Horatio was about to say will never be known, for at that moment there came such a frightful noise as neither of them had ever heard before. It came from everywhere at once, and seemed to fill all the sky and set the earth to trembling. It was followed by two or three fierce snorts and a dazzling gleam of light through the trees. The little boy was startled, and as for the Bear, he gave one wild look and fled. In his fright he did not notice a small shrub, and, tripping over it, he fell headlong into a clump of briars, where he lay, groaning dismally that he was killed and that the world was coming to an end.

Suddenly Bosephus gave a shout of laughter.

"Get up, Ratio," he called, "it's our steamboat! We're right near the river and didn't know it. They're landing, too, and we can go right aboard."

The groaning ceased and there was a labored movement among the briars.

Presently Horatio crept out, very much crestfallen, and picked up the violin, which in his haste he had dropped.

"Bo," he said, sheepishly, "I never told you about it before, but I am subject to fits. I had one just then. They come on suddenly that way.

All my family have them and act strangely at times. I'm sure you don't think for a moment that I was frightened just now."

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE FELL HEADLONG.]

"Oh, no, of course not. You merely picked out that briar patch as a good place to have a fit in. Do you always think the world's coming to an end when you are taken that way?"

"We'll go right aboard, Bo; you are a little timid, no doubt, so I'll lead the way." And Horatio stepped out briskly toward the lights and voices and the landing steamer.

A few steps brought them out to the river bank and a full view of the boat that had crept silently around a bend to the woodyard, where it was halting to take on fuel. The gang plank had not been pushed out to the bank as yet, but a white ray of light shot from a small window to the dark sh.o.r.e and looked exactly like a narrow board. The boy and the Bear were both deceived by it, and Horatio in his eagerness to show his bravery did not pause to investigate.

"Take the fiddle, Bo," he said, loftily, "and I'll show you how to get on a boat. You should always be brave, Bosephus."

Bosephus took the instrument and Horatio, with arms extended as a balance, stepped straight out into nothing and vanished. There was a sudden splash, a growl, a scrambling sound in the shallow water and Horatio's head appeared above the bank. Bosephus, at first frightened, was now doubled with laughter.

"Oh, Ratio," he gasped, "how funny of you to try to walk on a moonbeam!"

Horatio shook himself and sniffed angrily. A wide gang plank was now being lowered from the boat, and as it touched the bank the boy stepped quickly aboard, followed by the wet, shambling Bear.

"Oh, there was an Old Bear on a dark, dark night, Who tried to walk on a beam of light,"

sang Bo, as he crossed the plank,

"But the beam wouldn't hold and the Bear broke through, And now Horatio follows, as Horatio ought to do."

"h.e.l.lo!" called a voice. "Where did you come from?"

Bo looked up and saw a brawny man with a group of wondering negroes behind him.

"We are travelling," said Bo, "and we want to go down the river. We can pay our way and will make music for you, too."

"Good boy," said the mate. "Go right up and report to the clerk, then come back down here, and after we get this wood loaded we'll give you some supper and you can give us a show."

On the upper deck the few pa.s.sengers gathered around and made much of the arrivals. All asked questions at once, and Bo answered as best he could. Horatio kept silent--he never talked except when he was alone with Bo. The boy kept his hand on the Bear's head, and when the boat backed away and puffed down stream he felt his big friend tremble, but a little later, when they had had a good supper, Ratio's fear pa.s.sed off, and on the lower deck, where all hands collected, the friends gave an entertainment that not only won for them free pa.s.sage down the river, but a good collection besides. It was far in the night when the performance ended. The officers, pa.s.sengers and crew kept calling for more, and the travellers were anxious to accommodate them. The negroes went wild over the music, and patted and danced crazily whenever Horatio played. Finally Bo sang a good night song:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

"Now, we've had a lot of music, and we've had some supper, too, And we're sailing down the river in a little steam canoe,

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]