The Bishop and the Boogerman Part 8

Deprive them of their rights under the const.i.tution without giving them a chance to be heard at a preliminary trial?" Lawyer Tidwell's voice grew higher, and his indignation seemed to rise higher, as he contemplated the rampant injustice of the period, of which this proceeding was a very small part. "Mark my words!" he exclaimed; "you'll go to jail before this boy does! You know just as well as I do that this is no warrant. You know it isn't properly made out, nor even properly signed. I tell you again, the man that issued it will be impeached, and the man that served it will occupy the same cell. You'll know a thing or two worth remembering when I get through with you!" The lawyer's whole att.i.tude was menacing, and it made precisely the impression he had intended it should. He turned to Randall. "What party do you vote with?"

"Wid the party of Aberham Lincoln, suh; an' if you want to know why, turn to St. Paul (or it may be St. Second Timothy--one or the other) an'

you'll see where the brotherin is begged an' commanded for to stand by one another in all manner of trial an' tribulation. In them days, suh, they grit one another wi' a holy kiss; but in these times--la! holy kissin' is done played out like a hoss that went through the war!"

At this point the negro legislator, in order to keep up his reputation for representing his race, spoke up. "Frien', what has you been doin', an' what has you been tuck up fer? It look like ter me that you has got a case fer ter fetch up in the gener'l insembly, an' ef you is, I want ter have the handlin' un it."

It was Mr. Tidwell who replied. "Don't you remember that old Tuttle was an overseer before the war? He had no n.i.g.g.e.rs of his own, and he took his spite out on other people's n.i.g.g.e.rs. One day, when he was kicking and cuffing this boy here, he hit him one lick too many. Randall turned on him, and came pretty near knocking him into the middle of next week.

You-all have put old Tuttle in a place where he has a little power, and now, after all these years, he wants to slap Randall in jail, when he knows just as well as you know that he hit the boy a hundred times as many licks as the boy hit him. And he sha'n't put him in jail! One of you boys run to Mr. Whipple's and tell him that Mr. Sanders wants to see him at the courthouse at once. Tell him that Randall is in trouble."

Not only one negro, but half a dozen negroes, went on a run to carry the message to old Jonas.

"Ten to one he doesn't come," remarked Mr. Tidwell to his companion in an undertone.

Mr. Sanders himself had a very small supply of undertones, and so he spoke right out when he replied to the lawyer--"Ef he don't come I'll go arter him, an' ef I have to do that, I'll paint him red before he gits here! I promise you you won't know him!"

But old Jonas came fast enough; moreover, he came smiling, and this, together with the fact that he forgot to remove his skull-cap when he put on his hat gave him something of a new aspect in the eyes even of those who had known him long. The rapidity with which he walked was not so remarkable, considering the fact that Adelaide was running a little ahead of him. The child dropped his hand when she saw Mr. Sanders and the rest, and ran to them as hard as she could. "Bishop!" she cried to Mr. Sanders, "the Boogerman is to come right home this minute. I've found a new gun, and I want to shoot him! Boogerman, please come on!"

All that Randall could say was, "Well, suh!" and then he pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes, and gazed off into the far-distance, seeing whatsoever visions the Almighty vouchsafes to the meek and lowly, who are troubled in heart and mind. He must have seen something, and that something must have been sufficient, for his face brightened, and when he turned his head, and saw that all were looking at him with curiosity, he laughed pleasantly, and, stooping down, lifted Adelaide in his arms, and held her there, as though she would afford him the protection which he thought he needed.

"Which a-way does you-all want me for to go?" he inquired. "Show me, an'

I'll go right straight to the place. In Galatians, Paul bragged that he outfaced Peter, an' ef he done that, I speck I kin face what's a comin'

to me."

"I'll put your hat on the side of your head, Boogerman, so you can look as bold as a goose," said Adelaide.

"Yes, ma'am, I kin do that an' not half try; an' ef I can't look like a goose, I bet you I can look as sheepish as the next one." He was not even apprehensive and those who were observing him closely wondered at the sudden change that had come over him. "Jail," he went on, in the tone of an exhorter--"jail was good 'nough for the 'postles, an' why not for me? They ain't got no law long 'nough, ner no jail strong 'nough for to prevent pra'r."

"Oh, shucks, Boogerman!" exclaimed Adelaide; "let's go to jail. I want to see what kind of a place it is on the inside, because I may have to send Cally-Lou there if she doesn't behaviour better than she has been doing."

"Well, ef you're a-gwine to send Cally-Lou to that hotel," Mr. Sanders remarked, "jest tell 'em for to gi' me a big room wi' a long bed in it."

Then they all went in the courthouse, and sought out the judge of the Superior Court circuit, who had his office in the building. After Lawyer Tidwell's explanation, he very readily consented to hold the commitment trial then and there. Mr. Tidwell briefly called attention to the nature of the warrant that had been served, and announced his intention of bringing the impeachment proceedings against Mr. Tuttle, who was judge of the Court of Ordinary. The Superior Court judge said he had no doubt that such proceedings would hold, when brought at the proper time, and in the proper way, but they had nothing to do with the case before him.

Whatever the nature of the warrant, the accused was now in charge of an officer of the law, and it would simplify matters to have the preliminary trial take place at once. Randall gave his version of the affair, and when Mr. Tuttle was called to testify, it was found that the testimony he gave was not materially different from that which the negro had given, much of it being brought out by the close questioning of Mr.

Tidwell. The result was that Randall was placed under bond for his appearance at the next term of the superior court to be held in that county. Much to the surprise of all, old Jonas Whipple, instead of making a bond for Randall, gave his check on the local bank, with the understanding that it was to be cashed in favour of the court. The judge said that a bond of that kind was something unusual, but he accepted it.

Randall looked hard at old Jonas, and his lip trembled as if he were about to say something, but, instead, his glance turned to the floor, and he stood fumbling his hat. Mr. Sanders, observing the negro's embarra.s.sment, told a funny story, and when the laughter to which it gave rise had subsided the judge asked the Sage of Shady Dale if he wanted the anecdote to be made a part of the record in the case. The countenance of Mr. Sanders took on a peculiarly solemn expression.

"Well, judge," he replied, "it'd be a mighty good way for to improve it some."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Mr. Sanders went from the courthouse with a sweeping stride"]

All these things were beyond Adelaide. She climbed on a chair, and from the chair to a table, and stood poised at that dizzy height with her eyes fixed on Mr. Sanders. "Come on, Bishop," she commanded, "and let's go home." He backed up to the table like a trained horse in the modern pony shows. When he came close enough Adelaide leaped on his back. Here she perched herself, while Mr. Sanders went from the courthouse with a sweeping stride, which, when he was out of doors, changed, first into a trot, and then into a pretended canter.

PART V

When the gales of peace shall scatter War's wild, red rubbish like chaff, When the mills shall renew their clatter Then all the people will laugh.

--_Tunison's Industrial Hymns._

Randall celebrated his release by retiring to Lucindy's house, where he shut himself in and remained for more than an hour. He filled the little room with thanksgiving in the shape of song and prayer, all of which could be heard for a considerable distance. A great burden had been lifted from his simple mind, and he celebrated the fact in a simple and natural way. Lucindy understood his feelings, for she shared them. While Randall was praying and singing in her house, she was in the kitchen with Adelaide. Even while the tears of grat.i.tude and thankfulness were running down her cheeks, and threatening to fall in the things she was cooking (as the child saw), she made light of the whole matter. "I dunner what he mean by gwine 'way off dat-a-way, an' holdin' a pray'r-meetin' by hisself. He'll have de whole town a-stan'in' 'roun' in de yard ef he keep on doin' like dat."

"Well, Mammy Lucindy, you are crying yourself."

"My eyes weak, honey, an' dey feels like I done stuck a splinter in bofe un um. You des wait. When you git ol' ez what I is, I lay yo' eyes will run water, too."

The idea of Adelaide growing old! n.o.body would have thought of such a thing but Lucindy, and the thought only came to her as a means of hiding her own feelings. But it is a fact that the child was about to grow older. For shortly after Randall's trouble, all of us took the road for Eighteen-Hundred-and-Eighty-Five. We thought it was a long road, too, and yet, somehow, it was neither long nor rough. But it was a very peculiar thoroughfare. For though all of us tried to walk side by side, it seemed that some of us were toiling up-hill, while others were walking down-hill. It was so peculiar that on several occasions, I was on the point of asking Adelaide what she thought of a road that could be up-hill and down-hill in the same place, and at the same time; but the child had so many quaint and beautiful thoughts of her own that I hesitated to disturb her mind.

Moreover, she was growing so fast, and getting along so well, that I had no real desire to put new ideas in her head. Mr. Sanders declared that she was running up like a weed. This attracted the attention of old Jonas, who fixed his small glittering eyes on the old humourist.

"Like a weed, Sanders?" Mr. Whipple inquired.

"Well," replied Mr. Sanders, "call the weed a sunflower, ef it suits you; but I dunner what's the matter with a weed--the Lord made it."

Old Jonas, looking off into s.p.a.ce, nodded his head, with "Yes, I reckon maybe He did."

As we went along this road I have been telling you of, I thought that perhaps old Jonas would stop to rest in a fence corner, but the further we went, we found that he was as lively as any of the rest, though perhaps not so nimble. As for Adelaide, she simply grew; there was no other change in her. She carried her child nature along with her, and she carried Cally-Lou. Not much was said of Cally-Lou, but all of us felt that she was in hiding in that wide, clear s.p.a.ce that is just an inch or so beyond the short reach of our vision; and, somehow, we were all glad to have the company of the little dream-child who was "not quite white." I think she kept Adelaide from taking on the airs and poses of growing girls. And this was just as well. Adelaide took in knowledge, as though she had learned it somewhere before. When she began to study at school (as we went along) she declared that the books caused her to remember things that she had forgotten. Mr. Sanders said that there never was such a scholar, and Mr. Tidwell agreed with him. Old Jonas said nothing; his face simply wore a satisfied frown.

None of us forgot Randall, or could afford to forget him, for we were journeying along together. His evolution was out of the usual order.

Adelaide merely fulfilled the promises of her childhood, and the expectations of those who were in love with her; whereas, Randall outran prophecy itself. The Boogerman developed into a full-fledged minister of the Methodist Church, and, in the course of that development, became a complete engine of modern industry. He went so far and so fast that he had an abundance of time to devote to the religious enthusiasm that kept him inwardly inflamed; and such was the power of his rude eloquence that he attracted the admiration of whites as well as blacks. He was ignorant, but he had a gift that education has never been able to produce in a human being--he had the gift of eloquence. When he was in the pulpit his rough words, his simple gestures, the play of his features, the poise of his body, his whole att.i.tude, were as far beyond the compa.s.s of education as it is possible for the mind to conceive.

This gift, or power, became so well known that he had a real taste of what is called reputation in this world. He was a pattern, a model, for the men of his race, and, indeed, for the men of any race, for there never was a moment when he was idle after he discovered that an honest and industrious man can make and save money. All that he made, he gave to old Jonas Whipple to keep for him. The more Randall worked the more he learned how to work, so that in the course of a year or two, there was nothing in the way of work that he couldn't do well. His credit at the little bank was as good as that of most white men, and his simple word was as good as a bond.

The men of his race watched him with a curious kind of awe. When one of them asked him how he managed to accomplish the results that were plain to every one, his reply was: "Good gracious, man! I jest goes ahead and does it, that's how." He had a great knack of meeting opportunity before she knocked at his door--of meeting her and hitching her to his shack of a buggy, where she served the purpose of a family horse. He had the confidence and sympathy of all the white people who knew him. He began to buy tracts of land, and one of his purchases included High Falls, where the children and grown people had their picnic grounds. Many thought this a wild investment, especially old Jonas, who rated him soundly for throwing away his hard-earned money; but Mr. Sanders, who, with all his humour and nonsense, was by all odds the shrewdest business man in all that region, declared that the time would come when the money that Randall had paid for it would be smothered by the money he could sell it for. Randall explained to old Jonas the reason why he had bought this remarkable water-power; it was because the water came so free and fell so far.

All this, by the way, as we were journeying along. We began to try to forget Eighteen-Hundred-and-Sixty-Eight; we knew right were it was, but, as we got farther and farther away from it, it seemed to lose some of its importance; and, sometimes, when we couldn't help but remember it, it came back to us as though it was the memory of a bad dream. People began to look up and stir about, Progress, hand-in-hand with Better Conditions, crawled out of the woods, where they had been hiding, and began to pay visits to their old friends. Mr. Sanders said it gave him a kind of Christmas feeling to see the hard times vanishing. Old Jonas felt better, too. At any rate, he seemed to take more interest in Adelaide, who, by this time, had developed into a wonderfully charming young woman--just how charming, I leave you to imagine; for she was a young woman and still a child. It is given to few people in this world to have this combination and to be able to manage it as it should be managed. I don't know whether to call it the art of living, or the instinct that makes Everybody feel as though he were Somebody. I never could understand the secret of it, and, indeed, I never tried, until one day a scientist came along peddling his ideas and theories. He declared that there was an explanation somewhere in one of his books, but so far, I have been unable to find it. There was nothing in his dull books about Adelaide and her individuality. It should be borne in mind that Adelaide had, in the course of seventeen years, developed into Something that was quite beyond art and education. Her inimitable personality, which was hers from the first, and quite beyond the contingencies of chance or change, continued to be inimitable. She had received all the advantages that money could buy; but this fact only emphasised her native charm.

She was a child as well as a young woman, with the sweet unconsciousness of the one and the dazzling loveliness of the other.

Mean as he was said to be, it was a well-known fact that old Jonas's money would go as far as that of any man; and when it came to a question of Adelaide, it was as free as the money of some of our modern millionaires when they desire to advertise their benevolence. He was determined, he said, that his niece should have all the polish the schools could furnish. He called it polish for the reason that he had many a hot argument with Mr. Sanders and Lawyer Tidwell with respect to the benefits of education--the education furnished by our modern system of public schools. He didn't believe in it; there was always too much for some people, and not enough for others; there was no discrimination in the scheme. Moreover, it put false ideas in some people's heads, and made them lazy and vicious. But he had never said a word in opposition to polish, and when he sent Adelaide to one of the most expensive schools, it was not to educate her, he said, but to give her the "polish" that would elevate her above ordinary people.

Adelaide received the polish, but refused to be elevated, and when she returned home, unchanged and unspoiled, old Jonas Whipple said to himself that his money had been spent in vain. He wanted to see her put on airs and hold herself above people, but this she never did; and she would have laughed heartily at old Jonas's thoughts if she had known what they were. Mr. Whipple seemed to have an idea that culture and refinement are things that you can put your fingers on and feel of, and he was sure that dignity and personal pride are their accompaniments.

Yet he gave no outward sign of his disappointment if he really had any, and he swallowed such regrets as possessed him with a straight face; for he saw, with a secret pride and pleasure that no one suspected, that Adelaide was the most charming young girl in all that neighbourhood. It filled him with pride for which he could not account when he observed that she could hold her own in any company, and that, wherever she went, she was the centre of admiration and interest.

Now, it was not long before the promoters of a railway line from Atlanta to Malvern came knocking at the doors of Shady Dale. Mr. Sanders and a number of others were inclined to be more than hospitable to the enterprise, but old Jonas Whipple was opposed to it tooth-and-nail. His arguments in opposition to the enterprise will be thought amusing and ridiculous in this day and time, but it is notorious, the world over, that any man with money can have a substantial following without resorting to bribery, and there were many in Shady Dale, who, basing their admiration on the fact that he had been very successful as a money-maker, in the face of the most adverse conditions, were ready to endorse anything that old Jonas said; he was an oracle because he knew how to make money, though it is well known that the making of money does not depend on a very high order of intelligence. Old Jonas's objections to a railway were not amenable to reason or argument; it was sufficient that they were satisfactory to him. He had them all catalogued and numbered. There were six of them, and they ran about as follows:

1. A railroad would add to the racket and riot of the neighbourhood, when, even as things were, it was a difficult matter for decent people to sleep in peace. 2. (This objection was impressive on account of its originality; no one had ever thought of it). The pa.s.sing of railway trains would produce concussion, and this concussion, repeated at regular intervals, would cause the blossoms of the fruit trees to drop untimely off, and would no doubt have a disastrous effect on garden vegetables. 3. The railroad would not stop in Shady Dale, but would go on to Atlanta, thus making the little town a way-station, and drain the whole county of its labour at a time when everybody was trying to adjust himself to the new conditions. 4. Instead of patronising home industries and enterprises, people would scramble for seats on the cars, and go gadding about, spending anywhere but at home the little money they had.

5. Every business and all forms of industry in the whole section adjacent to the line would be at the mercy of the road and its managers; and, 6. What did people want with railroads, when a majority of the loudest talkers had earned no more than three dollars apiece since the war?

Mr. Sanders tried hard to destroy these objections by means of timely and appropriate jokes. But jokes had no effect on Mr. Whipple. Moreover, there was one fact that no jokes could change: a great body of land belonging to old Jonas lay right across the face of the railway survey, and there was no way to avoid it except by making a detour so wide that Shady Dale would be left far to one side. You would think, of course, that it was an easy matter to condemn a right of way through old Jonas's land, and so it would have been but for one fact that could not be ignored. There was a bitter controversy going on between the people and the roads, and the managers were trying to be as polite as they could be under the circ.u.mstances. The controversy referred to finally resulted in the pa.s.sage of the railway laws that are now on the statute books of the state. The promoters of the line to Shady Dale had no desire to arouse the serious opposition of Mr. Whipple and his friends; they had no idea of making a serious contest in view of the state of public opinion, and they had made up their minds that if they failed to secure the right of way through old Jonas's lands by fair words, they would leave Shady Dale out of their plans altogether. They had already surveyed another line that would run six or seven miles north of the town, and work on this would have begun promptly but for the representations of Mr. Sanders and other substantial citizens, who declared that only a short delay would be necessary to bring old Jonas to terms. But that result, by the interposition of Providence, as it were, was left for others to accomplish.

Of the contest going on between the old-fashioned, unprogressive faction, headed by her uncle, and the spirited element of which Mr.

Sanders was the leader, Adelaide had no particular knowledge. She knew in a general way that some question in regard to the new railroad was in dispute. She had heard the matter discussed, and she had laughed at some of the comments of Mr. Sanders on the obstinacy of her uncle, but the whole matter was outside the circle of her serious thoughts and interests until, at last, it was brought home to her in a way that the novel writers would call romantic, though for some time it was decidedly embarra.s.sing.

Blushing and laughing, she told Mr. Sanders about it afterward. That genial citizen regarded it as a good joke, and, as such, he made the most of it. She was walking about in the garden one day, thinking of childish things, and remembering what fine times she and Mr. Sanders had had when she was a tiny bit of a girl. She was very old now--quite seventeen--but her childhood was still fresh in her remembrance, and she was quite a child in her freshness and innocence. The corn-patch was in a new place now, but to her it was still the Whish-Whish Woods. In the days when she brought down the Boogerman with her cornstalk gun, the corn was growing in the garden next to a side street on which there was very little pa.s.sing to and fro; but now the corn-patch was next to a thoroughfare that was much frequented. Remembering how delighted she had been when Randall, the Boogerman, responded so completely to her pretence of shooting him with her cornstalk gun, she was seized by a whim that gave her an almost uncontrollable desire to repeat the performance.

By a gesture which, whether magical or not, admirably served its purpose, Adelaide became a child again. Her beautiful hair, unloosed, fell below her waist, and her face had the same little pucker of earnestness that it wore when, as a child, she was intent on her business of make-believe. She found a cornstalk that suited her purpose, stripped off the blades, and concealed herself in the Whish-Whish Woods, holding her gun in readiness to make a victim of the first person that pa.s.sed along the street. As Providence would have it, she was not kept waiting, for almost before she could conceal herself, she heard the sound of feet. Whoever it was had no idea of the danger that awaited him, for he was walking along, whistling softly to himself, showing that he was either in high feather, or seriously uneasy with respect to certain plans he had in his head. As he came to the ambush, Adelaide promptly thrust her cornstalk gun forward, with a loud cry of "bang!"

The result was as surprising as, and far more embarra.s.sing than, when she made-believe to shoot Randall. This time the victim, instead of falling on the ground and writhing, as a man should do if he is seriously wounded, nearly jumped out of his skin, crying, "Good gracious!"

The voice was strange to Adelaide's ears, and when she was in a position to see her intended victim, she discovered that her innocent joke had been played at the expense of a young man whom she had never seen before; he was an utter stranger. The young man, glancing back to see who had waylaid him, caught a glimpse of Adelaide, and politely raised his hat. Adelaide, frightened at what seemed to be her boldness, could hardly articulate clearly, but she managed to say, in the midst of her confusion and embarra.s.sment, "Oh, excuse me! I thought--" but there she paused.