The Unknown Wrestler Part 8

"Well, come in, then, and have a bite. You've earned it all right this morning. Bring your help in, Jake. I guess there's enough for all."

Mrs. Jukes' anger soon pa.s.sed, and by the time they reached the house she was in a more pleasant frame of mind. She was a bright, active little body, and Douglas won her friendship at once by the interest he took in her two children, a girl of six and a boy of three. While Mrs.

Jukes was busy placing the breakfast upon the table, Douglas had the children on his knees, and was asking them their names and quizzing them about the things in which they were interested. Though very busy, Mrs. Jukes noticed this, and she felt greatly pleased at the attention the stranger paid to her offspring. She noted, as well, his refined face, his gentle manner, and the words he used, for Mrs. Jukes had been a school teacher before she married, and, according to her husband, she had "a great deal of larnin'." She knew enough, at least, to keep Jake in his place, and to make him attend strictly to his work, with the result that their farm was the best cultivated one in the community.

"You sit here, sir," she told Douglas, putting a chair in place. "I'm sorry there isn't more for breakfast. I didn't expect company this morning."

"Why, this is a meal fit for a king," Douglas replied. "It's been years since I've eaten pancakes, ham and gravy. And that bread looks good, too. Did you bake it yourself, Mrs. Jukes?"

"Oh, yes, I do all my own cooking. But that bread isn't as good as I generally make. We just opened a new barrel of flour, and it doesn't seem to be as good as the last we had."

"It's no wonder that you are the best wrestler in the parish," Douglas remarked to Jake.

"Why?" the farmer asked, with his mouth full of pancake.

"Because of what you eat. Wouldn't any one be strong with such food as this?"

"But you put me down, though," Jake acknowledged, "an' you haven't been eatin' sich grub."

"Ah, it wasn't my strength, remember. It was simply a little trick I learned years ago."

"Will ye larn me the trick?" Jake asked. "I'd like to try it on Joe Preston the next time we have a bout together. My, it would surprise him."

"What, were you two wrestling this morning?" Mrs. Jukes enquired.

"Yep, an' he put me down," her husband explained. "Ye should have seen the way he did it, Susie. I struck the ground kerflop, right on my shoulders, an' they are sore yit from the thump."

No one noticed the look of wonder mingled with admiration upon Empty's face as Jake uttered these words. He forgot to eat, as he watched Douglas across the table. Any one who could put down the champion of Rixton was a marvel in Empty's eyes, and worthy of more than a pa.s.sing notice. He had not forgotten how this stranger had taken his part down by the big elm, and would not let Jake hit him the second time.

Mrs. Jukes was almost as much surprised as Empty. Though she could handle her husband and make him do what she wished, she, nevertheless, had a great admiration for his prowess as a wrestler, and was proud of his standing in the community. It was his local renown which had appealed to her when she was teaching school in Rixton, and had enabled Jake to capture her from his rivals, for Susie Perkins had been greatly admired and sought after by the young men of the place.

"Do you know anything about farm work?" she asked.

"I was brought up on a farm, and should know something about it,"

Douglas replied.

"But you haven't done any hard work of late, have you?"

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I can tell by your hands. They are not hard and rough like Jake's, for instance, and your face is not burnt as if you had been out working in the sun."

Douglas smiled, and held up his hands for inspection.

"Please do not judge by these," he replied, "but rather by my brain, heart and feet. They are all pretty well worn. A week or so in the field will remedy the defects of my face and hands, and make them more like your husband's."

"I'm goin' to try ye out fer a week," Jake remarked, "an' if ye understand hayin' as well as ye do wrestlin' ye're the man fer me."

"Just for my board and lodging," Douglas added.

"Well, that's fer you to say."

"I prefer it that way."

"It's settled, then," and Jake pushed back his chair and rose from the table. "We must do the milkin', and then git into the field. There's a heap of hay to come in to-day, an' we can't dilly-dally."

Douglas soon proved that he was no novice at farm work, and he won Jake's approval by the quick and efficient way he was able to milk.

But it was when once out in the field he showed what he could do.

Though not hardened to the work, he exhibited his knowledge of mowing with the scythe or the machine, as well as raking and putting up the hay in bunches ready to be hauled in that afternoon.

It was a bright, beautiful day, and Douglas found it good to be out there in the open instead of being shut up in the crowded city. He was almost like a boy in his joy and enthusiasm. Everything appealed to him and brought back memories of other days; the fragrant scent of the new-mown hay, the zig-zagging b.u.t.terflies, and the birds darting here and there. Though the day was hot and the perspiration at times stood out in beads on his forehead, yet he was more contented than he had been for a long time. "Why did I ever leave the country?" he asked himself. "What life so free and happy as this?" Then the thoughts which had entered his mind the night before came to him once again.

"Would it not be better to live in G.o.d's open, and rove at will?" he mused. "Why should I be a slave any longer, and conform to a dry ecclesiastical system? Better to follow nature and the dictates of my own heart. What is the use of striving to help others when they do not wish to be helped?"

He found Jake a capital companion. He was not a driver, but an encourager, and when once he saw that a man was doing his best, he was satisfied.

"Ye're all right," he told Douglas that evening after the ch.o.r.es had been done, and they were resting for a while on a log near the house.

"I suppose ye feel a little sore?"

"Not yet," Douglas replied, "but I expect to be rather stiff in the morning after to-day's work. It will take me a little while to get hardened up, and then I'm going to have a wrestling bout with you. My, how calm the water is to-night," and he turned his eyes upon the peaceful river away to the left. "I'm going down to have a swim. The last one I had was in the harbour."

"In the harbour!" Jake exclaimed in amazement. "What in the world were ye swimmin' there fer?"

"Oh, I'll tell you some day when I've got nothing else to do. Where's the best place for a swim?"

"Most anywhere, but ye'll find the water extry good down by that old pine tree," and Jake pointed away to the left. "There are no weeds there."

It took Douglas but a few minutes to reach the river, and he walked slowly along the sh.o.r.e. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the water, and the trees along the bank were mirrored in the clear depths.

How good it was to be in such a place where he could think to his heart's content. No sign of human life was here, and the sweet song of a vesper sparrow was the only sound which broke the stillness of the evening. So far, he had not found Rixton to be the terrible place it had been painted, and he was beginning to think that what he had heard was mere legend. He had found the Jukes very agreeable people, at any rate, and he believed that his stay with them would be most pleasant.

Having reached the old pine, he sat down upon the sand and bent forward to unlace his shoes. His attention, however, was suddenly arrested by the sound of violin music to his left. That it was no amateur who was playing he was well aware, but one skilled in the art. At any time such music would have appealed to him, but on an evening like this, and amid such surroundings, the effect was greatly enhanced. For a few minutes he sat and listened, afraid to move lest the charm should be dispelled. The music thrilled his soul with a peculiar feeling of responsibility. It seemed like a pa.s.sionate cry for help, mingled with a desire for sympathy and understanding. It was quite evident that the unknown minstrel had suffered, and was pouring forth upon the still evening air the deep emotions of the heart. Others might hear differently, but there was only one interpretation he could give to the enchanting sound.

Presently there came to him a desire to see this skilled musician. He was beginning to realise that Rixton, no matter what others might say, was becoming a most interesting place. To encounter in one day a wrestler like Jake Jukes, and a violinist such as he was now hearing, made his coming to the parish really worth while.

Looking along the sh.o.r.e from whence the music came, Douglas could see nothing but trees. Stepping back, however, a few paces, he obtained a better view, and beheld not far away three persons near a large tree which was bending over the water. One was an old man seated upon the ground, with a young girl by his side. He could not distinguish their faces, but they were evidently listening with rapt attention to a young woman who was standing nearby playing upon a violin. Douglas noted with admiration her lithe form, and the graceful poise of her head. So the musician was a woman! It came to him as a surprise, for in his mind he had pictured a man alone on the sh.o.r.e, giving expression to his feelings. He longed to draw nearer, that he might see her better and look into her eyes. A soul and a hand that could produce such music could belong only to a person of more than ordinary beauty, so he imagined. But he knew that if he ventured forth the charm would be broken, and he would be looked upon as an intruder. No, it was better for him to remain where he was that he might listen and adore unseen.

As he stood there and watched, the music suddenly ceased. He saw the girl sitting on the ground rise to her feet, take the old man by the hand, and lead him away. The musician alone remained, and with the violin under her arm she leaned against the tree. Was she tired?

Douglas wondered. Why did she not go with the others? He was not left long in doubt, however, for in a few minutes a man emerged from among the trees and approached the waiting woman. Ah, she had remained to meet her lover, and no doubt her music had been meant for him. Perhaps he had been near at hand all the time, waiting a favourable opportunity to speak to her. Was the old man her father who objected to her lover?

And was the young girl her sister who was in league with her? These thoughts pa.s.sed through Douglas' mind as he stood there. It did not seem right that he should be watching these two, and yet there was something which restrained him from going away at once. They did not seem altogether like lovers, for the young woman had stepped back as the man drew near, and kept retreating slightly whenever he approached too close.

Douglas could not hear a word that was being said, but the strange manner of the two interested him greatly. It was evident that they were engaged in an earnest conversation, though the man seemed to be doing most of the talking.

For some time the two stood near the old tree, while the shades of night deepened over the land. At length, they moved away, walking side by side, and soon disappeared among the trees. Douglas' interest was much aroused and he felt that there was some mystery connected with what he had witnessed. He longed to know something about the violinist, where she had learned to play in such a remarkable manner, and the reason of the strange compelling music.

Lost in such thoughts, he forgot all about his intended swim. He left the old pine tree and slowly retraced his steps along the sh.o.r.e. It was dark by the time he reached the house. He felt tired after his day's work, and was glad to go at once to the little bedroom which Mrs.

Jukes had prepared for his use.