The Puddleford Papers Part 15

"Great loss!" rejoined Bates.

The stranger, who was none other than the junior member of the firm of Follett, Fizzlet & Farindale, dry goods merchants, doing business in the city of New York, and who was out at Puddleford hunting up the firm of Whistle & Sharp, a couple of debtors, whose account had been in the rear for some time--the stranger, I say, became very anxious to hear the particulars of the man whose life was in jeopardy--and he exclaimed before he thought--"What is it, gentlemen?--who's hurt?"

"Why," said Ike, his face all the while cast iron, and his eyes steadily fixed on his game; "why, you see, old mother Gantlet was took with a violent mis'ry in her head--sent for Dr. Teazle--our village doctor here--the old 'oman said her head would bust--doctor said it wouldn't--the old 'oman said it would--the doctor said he'd tie it up--and he _did_ try to tie it up, stranger--and while he was busy, her head _did_ bust, and blew off the doctor's thumb and fore-finger"--and Ike shoved a man into the king-row and crowned him, without a look at Mr. Farindale, his face all the while as rigid as a tombstone.

Mr. Farindale gave a long whistle, and immediately called for a cigar; the Colonel dropped a quid of tobacco into his hand, and gave it a toss across the bar-room; Longbow shot forth a dignified spit into the fire, or rather it seemed to shoot out itself, without moving a muscle, and Bates stroked his chin several times with his left hand.

A long pause ensued. "What became of the woman?" inquired Farindale, after five minutes, looking sharply at Ike.

"She hain't been heer'd on since, as I knows on," replied Ike; "but the _doctor's_ in a dref-ul state."

The game of checkers closed, and Ike and Bates moved around near Mr.

Farindale.

"Stranger," said Ike, "travelled long in these ere parts?"

"Not long--but long enough."

"Goin' on?"

"On where?"

"Why, on to the next place?"

"Does Whistle & Sharp live hereabouts?" inquired Farindale, without answering Ike's question.

"To be sure they do," said Ike; "I know 'em like a book; am their 'torney."

"Their attorney--_you_ their attorney--attorney of Whistle & Sharp," said the stranger, slowly and musingly, scratching his head with his fore-finger.

"Got anything for 'em or agin 'em?" inquired Ike.

"Are they good pay?" inquired the stranger.

"Always pays at the end of an execution," replied Ike--"never before--allers takes a receipt on the docket--makes their settlements a matter of record--puts things where they can't be ripp'd up--best way, ain't it, stranger?"

The stranger grunted, "Humph!"

"And then," said Ike, "there's no dispute 'bout authority to collect.

Everybody can't tell who everybody's agent is. One New York clark run'd away one year with all the collections from Puddleford in his breeches-pocket; but the court _has_ authority--gin'ral jurisdiction--and the discharge of a court is a discharge what _is_ a discharge."

"That's a real opinion," exclaimed Longbow, who had not spoken for half an hour; "there's nothin' like a _court_ to put a finish onter things;" and the Squire gave two or three heavy coughs, and blew his nose into his red cotton handkerchief, and doubling it up into a wad, looked around very gravely at Farindale as he dropped it back into his hat.

"Authority! The authority of courts to collect debts! They may have authority, but I never saw a court that had the _power_ to collect a debt of me," exclaimed the Colonel, shifting his tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other as he spoke; "and I never put in a plea in my life--the plea always puts _itself_ in, and is a dead bar to further proceedings every time--'no a.s.sets'--'nothing whereon to levy'"--

"_Nully Bony! Nully Bony!_ you mean," said the Squire, horror-stricken at the Colonel's use of law language.

"That's it," said Bates; "hain't got nothin' to get onter"--

"And ain't nowhere to be found, nor nothin'," added Turtle.

"Just so," said the Colonel; "a kind of general suspension for want of capital--the fiddle's on hand, but the bow is gone."

The stranger was puzzled at the Puddlefordian view of paying debts, and wondered if Whistle & Sharp were advocates of the same doctrine.

"Stranger!" said Bates, turning the subject of conversation, "do you ever hunt?"

"Never," answered Farindale.

"Rare sport to-night, going a-sniping," said Bates.

"_Sni_-ping?" inquired the stranger, emphasizing the first syllable; "_sni_-ping! what is _sni_-ping?"

"_Sni_-ping?" answered Bates--"why, catching snipe, to be sure."

"Great sport," said the Colonel; "bagged three hundred night before last."

"The real yaller legs, too!" remarked Turtle.

Farindale said "he would like to accompany them--never saw a snipe in his life--would like to take one back to the city. Do they _sing_?" he inquired, turning to Turtle.

"Great singers! catch any tune! s'prising critters to larn," answered Ike; "got one up to my house that goes thro' half of 'Old Hundred,' by jest hearing the folks hum it round the house."

"_Re_-markable!" exclaimed Farindale.

"Great eating, too," said Longbow.

"Hain't got mor'n two or three bones in their whole body; all the rest meat," said Bates.

Preparations were immediately made for the sniping expedition. The stranger put on his India-rubber boots, and shawls, and overcoat; Ike procured a large bag of Bulliphant; and all hands, excepting Squire Longbow, whose dignity forbade anything like sport, wended their way to the river, where, Turtle said, "there were whole droves on 'em."

"Now," whispered Turtle, drawing Farindale close to him, and holding his arm all the while as he spoke in his ear, "we must keep very still--snipe are scary critters, and when they get frightened they put straight for the river. There is a big log out yonder--a favorite spot of theirs--down which they travel and jump off into the river. You jest take this ere bag, creep softly down to the log, slip the bag over the end on't, and wait there until we drive in the snipe. Don't speak--don't move; make 'em think you are the trunk of a tree; and when the bag is full, slip it off, and close it in a jiffy."

"Yes! yes!" whispered back Farindale.

"Mind, don't stir from your post till I halloo."

"No! no!" said Farindale.

Farindale did as he was directed. He found, however, a foot of black muck; but, after "slumping" a while, he managed to plant his spread legs out like a pair of extended compa.s.ses, and slide the bag over the log. Here he stood, half bent together, grasping the bag, and waiting for snipe.

There was a beating of the bushes around him; then all was still; then another beating, and another, and then a longer silence. Farindale was sinking deeper and deeper in the mud, and the water was nearly to the top of his boots. By and by, the noises ceased--no foot-step could be heard, and the stranger was alone with the bag and the log, and half up to his middle--_waiting for snipe_.

What ever became of the Puddlefordians is more than I can say. Farindale returned to the Eagle alone. Early the next morning he might have been found in anxious consultation with Whistle & Sharp concerning a claim there of a hundred and twelve dollars, and interest after six months, which he was very desirous to secure or settle. Mr. Whistle, the senior member of the firm of Whistle & Sharp, was a very thin-faced man, with sandy hair that had seldom been combed, and he wore a faded blue coat with metal b.u.t.tons, the two behind having been placed just under his armpits, which made him look as though some invisible power was all the while lifting him up from the ground. His woollen pantaloons had pa.s.sed so many times through the wash-tub, that he was obliged to strain out the wrinkles when he put them on, and they clung as tight to his legs as his skin. Sharp was a little man, had a long face, and his mouth seemed to have been bored--for it was round--about midway between his chin and his forehead; and he was always wasping around, giving consequential orders about nothing, and very often spoke of the _firm_ of Whistle & Sharp, and what Whistle & Sharp had done, and what Whistle & Sharp could do, and would do.

Mr. Whistle informed Mr. Farindale that "the debt could not be paid at present, although," he added, "that the firm of Whistle & Sharp were good for ten times that amount."

"And another ten top of that," added Sharp, from the other end of the store, where he was tumbling down and putting up goods by way of exercise.