The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln Part 13

Boney had succeeded at last in fastening his teeth in a firm grip on the c.o.o.n's throat. He held it without a cry of pain while the claws ripped his ears and gashed his head. Deeper and deeper sank his teeth until at last the razor claws that were cutting relaxed slowly and the long lean body with its beautiful fur lay full length on the red-marked stones.

The dog loosed his hold instantly. His work was done. He scorned to strike a fallen foe. He started to the water's edge to quench his thirst and staggered in a circle. The blood had blinded him.

The Boy sprang to his side, lifted him tenderly in his arms, carried him to the water and bathed his eyes and head.

"He's cut all to pieces!" he sobbed at last. "He'll die--I just know it!"

"Na!" his father answered scornfully. "Be all right in two or three days."

The Boy went back and looked at the slim body of the dead c.o.o.n with wonder.

"Why did this one fight so much harder than the ones on the bank?" he asked thoughtfully.

"'Cause she's their mother," Tom said casually, "an' them's her two children."

Something hurt deep down in the Boy's soul as he looked at the graceful nose and the red-stained fur at her throat. He saw his mother's straight neck and head outlined again against the starlit sky the night she stood before him rifle in hand and shot at that midnight prowler.

His mouth closed firmly and he spoke with bitter decision:

"I don't like c.o.o.n hunting. I'm not coming any more."

"Good Lord, Boy, we got ter have skins h'ain't we?" was the hearty answer.

"I reckon so," he sorrowfully admitted. But all the way home he walked in brooding silence.

X

The following winter brought the event for which the mother had planned and about which she had dreamed since her boy was born--a school!

The men gathered on the appointed day, cut the logs and split the boards for the house. Another day and it was raised and the roof in place.

Tom volunteered to make the teacher's table and chair and benches for the scholars. He had the best set of tools in the county and he wished to do it because he knew it would please his wife. There was no money in it but his life was swiftly pa.s.sing in that sort of work. He was too big-hearted and generous to complain. Besides the world in which he lived--the world of field and wood, of dog and gun, of game and the open road was too beautiful and interesting to complain about it. He was glad to be alive and tried to make his neighbors think as he did about it.

When the great day dawned the young mother eagerly prepared breakfast for her children. She wouldn't allow Sarah to help this morning. It must be a perfect day in her life. She washed the Boy's face and hands with scrupulous care when the breakfast things were cleared away, and her grey eyes were shining with a joy he had never seen before. He caught her excitement and the spirit of it took possession of his imagination.

"What'll school be like, Ma?" he asked in a tense whisper.

"Oh, this one won't be very exciting; maybe in a little room built of logs. But it's the beginning, Boy, of greater things. Just spelling, reading, writing and arithmetic now--but you're starting on the way that leads out of these silent, lonely woods into the big world where great men fight and make history. Your father has never known this way. He's good and kind and gentle and generous, but he's just a child, because he doesn't know. You're going to be a man among men for your mother's sake, aren't you?"

She seized his arms and gripped them in her eagerness until he felt the pain.

"Won't you, Boy?" she repeated tensely.

He looked up steadily and then slowly said:

"Yes, I will."

She clasped him impulsively in her arms and hurried from the cabin leading the children by the hand. The Boy could feel her slender fingers trembling.

When they drew near the cross roads where the little log house had been built, she stopped, nervously fixed their clothes, took off the Boy's cap and brushed his thick black hair.

They were the first to arrive, but in a few minutes others came, and by nine o'clock more than thirty scholars were in their seats. The mother's heart sank within her when she met the teacher and heard him talk. It was only too evident that he was poorly equipped for his work. He could barely read and could neither write nor teach arithmetic. The one qualification about which there was absolute certainty, was that he could lick the biggest boy in school whenever the occasion demanded it.

He conveyed this interesting bit of information to the a.s.semblage in no uncertain language.

The mother could scarcely keep back her tears. By the end of the week it was plain that her children knew as much as their teacher.

"What's the use?" Tom asked in disgust. "Hit's a waste o' time an'

money. Let 'em quit!"

"No, I can't take them out!" was the firm reply. "They may not learn much, but if the school keeps going, don't you see, a better man will come bye and bye, and then it will be worth while."

Tom shook his head, but let her have her own way.

"Besides," she went on, "he'll learn something being with the other children."

"Learn to fight, mebbe," the husband laughed.

He did, too, and the way it came about was as big a surprise to the Boy as it was to the youngster he fought.

The small bully of the school lived in the same direction as the Boy and Sarah. They frequently walked together for a mile going or coming and grew to know one another well. The Boy disliked this tow-head urchin from the moment they met. But he was quiet, un.o.btrusive and modest and generally allowed the loud-mouthed one to have his way. The tow-head took the Boy's quiet ways for submission and insisted on patronizing his friend. The Boy good-naturedly submitted when it cost him nothing of self-respect.

At the close of school, the tow-head whispered:

"Come by the spring with me, I want to show you somethin'!"

"No, I don't want to," he replied.

"Let Sarah go on an' we'll catch her--I got a funny trick ter show you.

You'll kill yourself a-laughin'."

The Boy's curiosity was aroused and he consented.

They hastened to the spring where the embers of a fire at which the scholars were accustomed to warm their lunch, were still smouldering.

The tow-headed one drew from the corner of the fence a turtle which he had captured and tied, scooped a red-hot coal from the fire with a piece of board and placed it on the turtle's back.

The poor creature, tortured by the burning coal, started in a scramble trying to run from the fire. The tow-head roared with laughter.

The Boy flushed with sudden rage, sprang forward and knocked the coal off.

The two faced each other.

"You do that again an' I'll knock you down!" shouted the bully.

"You do it again and I'll knock you down," was the st.u.r.dy answer.

"You will, will you?" the tow-head cried with scorn. "Well, I'll show you."