The Starbucks Part 29

"Oh, they never burned any witches in this country, Uncle Jasper. That's all a fable."

The old man pondered as if searching in his mind for a forgotten name.

"But," said he, "they uster burn them fellers--fellers that done sorter this way," and he began to shake his shoulders.

"Oh, you mean Quakers."

"Yes, Quakers."

"Yes, they hanged Quakers."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "KOTCH 'EM STEALIN' HOSSES, I RECKON."]

"Kotch 'em stealin' hosses, I reckon."

"No, hanged them on account of their religion."

"Whew, ruther hard on that sort of doctrine."

"h.e.l.loa, Jasper," a voice called, and looking about they saw Laz Spencer climbing upon the fence. They bade him good morning, and sitting on the top rail of the fence he took out a jews-harp and began to wipe it on his coat-sleeve.

"How air you gittin' along, Laz?" Old Jasper inquired.

"Never better."

"Glad to hear it. Best day of a man's life is when he was never better.

I'll let that n.i.g.g.e.r finish this job," he said, sticking the axe into a log; and Mrs. Mayfield, willing enough to play quits, smiled upon him and walked out to the gap and stood looking down the road.

"Have a drink of water, Laz?" Jasper inquired, pointing to a pail on the bench.

"No, laid on a rock an' got a drink outen the creek as I come along."

"Wall, this is fresh water. Wan't fotch from the spring mo' than twenty-fo' hours ago."

"Don't reckon you kin tempt me, Jasper."

The old man took up the gourd, and in attempting to drink, let the water pour through the handle and run down his sleeve. He threw the vegetable dipper back into the bucket and declared that a man might as well try to drink out of a sifter.

"Any news over yo' way, Laz?"

"Don't believe thar's anythin' wu'th dividin'."

"n.o.body shot or cut?"

"Let me see. Reckon you hearn about Oscar Pryor."

"No, not sence he borrid five dollars of me. What about him?"

"Went down in the bottoms whar folks war a leetle too civilized an' fell in a well."

"Did they git him out?"

"Oh, yes, they got him out jest in time."

"Jest in time to save his life?"

"No, jest in time to keep from sp'ilin' the water. He drownded all right."

"Ought to have drownded long ago," Jasper replied. "But I'd a leetle ruther it had tuck place befo' he got the five from me."

"But say, Jasper, come to think of it we did have some right sharp excitement over our way yistidy. 'Lowed thar war suthin' on my mind.

Ricolleck the hoss the preacher swopped to Dave Somers?"

"The bay with white fetlocks?"

"Yes, thatter'n. Wall, Dave tuck him home an' put him in the stable, an'

in the night he got up an' went out to rub him, havin' him on his mind, an' when he went into the stable he found the hoss dead."

"What, you don't mean it?"

"Wall, I don't deceive a man about sich a matter. Yes, found him dead; an' he roused up his neighbors an' they all come an' looked at the hoss, but he didn't kere fur, as I tell you, he war dead. An' now the talk is that the preacher known that thar war suthin' wrong with him, an' jest wanted to git rid of him. Dave, you know, went up to the mourner's bench some time ago an' got a right lively artickle of religion; but when his hoss died he 'lowed, he did, that he didn't want no sich religion that this here preacher would fetch an' he ups an' cusses, he does, an'

flings his religion away."

"Wall," said Jasper, "this here is news. What air they goin' to do about it?"

"Kain't do nothin', I reckon. Dave would whup the preacher, but the gal he is a goin' to marry told him he shouldn't. Say, Jasper, I was on my way down to Smithfield, an' I didn't know but you mout want suthin'

fotch from down thar."

"No, ain't a hurtin' fur nothin' at the present. Lemme see. Yes, I want you to give a order to the stone-cutter for a tombstone for mammy's grave."

"How big?"

"Oh, 'bout three feet by six."

"Reckon you'll want suthin' cut on the rock."

"Yes. Sot up mighty nigh all night a drawin' of it off. Got it right here." From his pocket he took a piece of paper and began to read: "'Old Black Mammy, come here n.o.body don't know when an' went home on the eighteenth of June, 1884. Her skin mout have been as dark as the night when thar ain't no moon an' no stars, but her soul is like the risin' of the sun when thar ain't a cloud in the sky.'" Mrs. Mayfield had turned to listen, and Jasper inquired of her: "Will that do, ma'm?"

"Yes, Uncle Jasper, it is very expressive."

"Wall, would you mind goin' over it an' fixin' it up for me?"

"I wouldn't change a word of it," she said, and he thanked her.

"Jasper," said Laz, "I didn't know you could write."

"Wall," the old man drawled, "I kain't write as putty as the county clerk, but I kin write as big. So you like it, ma'm?"

"Yes, Uncle Jasper."