The Arkansaw Bear Part 9

"Well, you said you were dreaming yesterday when we met that little darky boy, and you nearly tore the jacket off of him before I could wake you up with a club."

Horatio drew his bow hastily across the strings and began singing--

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

"Keemo, kimo, kilgo, kayro, Horses in de stable goin' 'Nay, nay, nay!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

Rop strop, periwinkle, little yaller n.i.g.g.e.r, c.u.m a rop strop bottle till the break of day."

The sun was just setting behind a large, white, old fashioned sugar house, where the bayou turned, and made it look like an ancient castle.

The little boy sighed. He had never believed that any country could be so beautiful as this, and he wanted to stay in it forever. Horatio liked it, too. They had played and danced at many of the sugar houses, and the Bear had been given everywhere all the waste sugar he could eat. He was fond of the green cane also, and was nearly always chewing a piece when they were not busy with a performance. But the big fellow had never quite overcome his old savage nature, and the race on the steamboat had roused it more fiercely than ever. The fat pickaninnies were a constant temptation to him, and it had taken all Bo's watchfulness to keep him out of dreadful mischief. Bo never feared for himself. Horatio loved him and had even become afraid of him. It was for Horatio that he feared, for he knew that death would be sure and swift if one of the pickaninnies was even so much as scratched, not to mention anything worse that might happen. Again the little boy sighed as they turned into a clean gra.s.sy place and made ready for camp.

Long after Bosephus was asleep Horatio sat by the dying camp fire, thinking. By and by he rose and walked out to the bank of the bayou and looked toward the sugar house that lay white in the moonlight, half a mile away. Then he went back to where Bo was asleep and picked up the violin. Then he laid it down again, as though he had changed his mind, and slipped away through the shadows in the direction of the old sugar house. He said to himself that, as they were going in that direction and would stop there next day, he might as well see how the road went and what kind of a place it was. He did not own, even to himself, that it was the negro cabins and fat pickaninnies that were in his mind, and that down in his heart was a wicked and savage purpose. Every little way he paused and seemed about to turn back, but he kept on. By and by he drew near the sugar house and saw the double row of whitewashed huts in the moonlight. It was later than he had supposed and the crowds of little darkies that were usually playing outside had gone to bed. He sighed and was about to turn back when suddenly he saw something capering about near the shed of the sugar house. He slipped up nearer and a fierce light came into his eyes. It was a little negro boy doing a hoo-doo dance in the moonlight.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE SLIPPED AWAY THROUGH THE SHADOWS.]

Suddenly the little fellow turned and saw the Bear glaring at him.

Horatio was between him and the cabins. The boy gave one wild shriek and dashed through a small open door that led into the blackness of the sugar house, the Bear following close behind. It was one of the old Creole sugar houses where the syrup is poured out into open vessels to cool and harden. The little darky knew his way and Horatio didn't. He stumbled and fell, and growled and tried to follow the flying shadow that was skipping and leaping and begging, "Oh, Mars Debbil! Oh, please, Mars Debbil, lemme go dis time, an' I nevah do so no mo'. Nevah do no mo' hoo-doo, Mars Debbil; oh, please, Mars Debbil, lemme go!"

But Horatio was getting closer and closer and in another moment would seize him. Then, suddenly, something happened. The Bear stumbled and, half falling, stepped into one of the big shallow wooden vessels. He felt his hind feet break through something like crusted ice and sink a foot or more into a heavy, thick substance below. When he tried to lift them they only sank deeper. Then he knew what was the matter. He had stepped into a ma.s.s of hardening sugar and was a prisoner! His forefeet were free, but he dared not struggle with them for fear of getting them fast, too. The little darky, who thought the devil had stopped to rest, was huddled together in a corner not daring to move. Horatio remembered Bo sleeping safely in their camp and began to weep for his own wickedness. In the morning men would come with axes and guns. Why had he not heeded Bo? Half seated on the crusted sugar he gave himself up to sorrow and despair.

It was early morning when Bo awoke. He was surprised to see that Horatio was not beside him, for the boy was usually first awake. He called loudly. Then, as the moments pa.s.sed and the Bear did not come, he grew uneasy. Suddenly a terrible suspicion flashed over him. He sprang to his feet and seizing the violin that lay beside him set forth on a run in the direction of the white sugar house. He knew Horatio would go there because it was nearest, and he felt certain that something dreadful had happened. The incident of the day before made him almost sure of Horatio's errand, and he feared the worst. No doubt they had caught and killed him by this time, and what would he do now without his faithful friend?

[Ill.u.s.tration: SUDDENLY THE LITTLE FELLOW TURNED.]

He ran faster and faster. As he drew near the sugar house he heard a great commotion. For a moment he stopped. If Horatio had done something terrible and they had caught him perhaps it would be dangerous to interfere. The next moment he rushed on. Horatio was his friend and he would save his life if possible, unless----. He did not think any further, but flew on. As he dashed into the cane yard he saw crowds gathering and men running with axes and clubs. Others had guns and cane knives, and all were crowding toward the big doors of the sugar house, that were now thrown open. Inside he heard shouts, mingled with Horatio's fierce growls. His friend was still alive.

Without pausing he rushed through the doors and saw a circle of negro men gathered about the big wooden trough where the Bear was a prisoner, snapping and growling and trying to get free. The little pickaninny who, in spite of his fright, had slept all night in the corner, was there, too, and the men with axes and other weapons had entered with Bo. There was not a second to be lost.

"Wait!" screamed Bo; "wait!" And tearing through the astonished crowd he thrust the violin into Horatio's hands.

"Play!" he shouted. "Play for your worthless life!"

Horatio did not need to be told again. He reached for the violin and bow, and sitting in the now solid sugar struck the strings wildly.

"Rooster in de chicken coop, crowin' foh day; Horses in de stable goin' 'Nay, nay, nay;'

Ducks in de yard goin' 'Quack, quack, quack!'

Guineas in de tree tops, goin' 'Rack-pot-rack!'"

Horatio fiddled furiously, while Bo shouted and sang and the crowd joined in. They all knew this song, and as they sang they forgot all else. Axes and guns and clubs were dropped as young and old fell into the swing of the music.

"Keemo, kimo, kilgo, kayro; Fleero, fliro, flav-o-ray; Rop strop, periwinkle, little yaller n.i.g.g.e.r, c.u.m a rop strop bottle till de break--of--day!"

You could hear the noise for a mile. They danced and shouted and sang, and work was forgotten. After a long time, when they were tired out, Bo took one of the axes and carefully broke the now solid sugar away from Ratio's feet and set him free. Then they brought water and washed his hind paws and he danced for them.

After dinner, when the friends started out on their journey, the crowd followed them for nearly a mile. When all were gone Horatio turned to Bo and said:--

"I am glad you came just as you did, Bo."

"I should rather think you would be," said Bo, grimly.

"Because," continued Horatio, "if you hadn't I might have damaged some of those fellows, and I know you wouldn't have liked that, Bosephus." He looked at the little boy very humbly as he said this, expecting a severe lecture. But the little boy made no reply, and down in his heart the big Bear at that moment made a solemn and good resolve.

CHAPTER VIII

SWEET AND SOUR

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

"Oh, we're down in the land where the jasmine blows, And the cypress waves and the orange grows,

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

And the song bird nests in the climbing rose-- And all the girls are beautiful, and milk and honey flows."

HORATIO paused in his playing and looked at Bosephus, who was ready to sing another stanza.

"Look here, Bo," he said gravely, "that sounds very pretty and may be very good poetry and true enough, but I wouldn't get to singing too much about jasmine and song birds and climbing roses if I were you, and especially girls. You are only a little boy, and besides, I can't see that there is any difference in girls, except that some are plump and some are not, and that isn't any difference to me, now," and the Bear sighed and strummed on his violin gently.

"Oh, pshaw, Ratio! There's lots of difference. Some girls are yellow and sour as a lemon, while some are as pink and sweet and blooming as a creole rose"----

"Bosephus," interrupted the Bear gravely, "you've got a touch of the swamp fever. Let me see your tongue!"

Bo stuck out his tongue.

"My tongue's all right," he grinned. "That kind of fever's in the heart."

Horatio looked alarmed.

"You must take something for it right away, Bo," he declared. "I can't have you singing silly songs about jasmine and cypress and girls in milk and honey. You know we haven't seen any honey since we left Arkansaw, and I'd travel all the way back there on foot to rob one good honey tree. I'm getting tired of so much of this stuff they call sugar and cane and the like."

"Why they have honey here, Ratio, too. I haven't seen any bee trees, but I've seen plenty of bees. I suppose they are in hives--boxes that people keep for them to live in."

"Where do they have those boxes, Bo?"

"Well, in their yards mostly; generally out by the back fence."

"Could we rob them?"

"Well, I shouldn't like to try it."