Watch Yourself Go By Part 19

Tying the horses to the fence, the Colonel lighted his pipe, walking to and fro to warm his chilled blood, he gave way to his gloomy thoughts again. "What would Captain Barbour, Colonel Woodburn and Major Hinkle say if they found out that he, Colonel Charlotte, was engaged in carrying n.i.g.g.e.rs to a ball. Ef I was to be ketched yar by a white man, what explanation could I make that would protect the honor of my family?"

For himself the Colonel felt that he was eternally disgraced and had reached the point where he was willing to be ostracized but hoped to protect the family name.

Sam returned to the carriage to find a wrap or other article the women had forgotten. The air was very chilly. "Sam, have you all got any fire upstairs," asked the Colonel.

"Yes, sah, dars a roarin' fire up yander Colonel. Jus walk up sah an'

warm yoself."

Pulling his hat down over his eyes, turning his coat collar up to disguise himself, the Colonel climbed the narrow stairs. Peeping through the door at the whisking dancers he skulked along the side of the room until he reached the big, open wood fireplace. The warmth was very grateful to his benumbed frame. He had not the a.s.surance to look around at the dancers; while his front side was thoroughly warmed, the rear of his anatomy was still numb. About the time he had determined to about face, the dance ceased. He heard several remarks not intended for his ears:

"Who is dat ole white man 'trudin' yar? Whar did dat ole white man k.u.m frum? Who fetched him up yar?"

The Colonel couldn't bear it longer. Stalking out, he descended the stairs, asking himself if he could sink lower. In the depths of degradation, what could happen that would sink him lower. A Charlotte ordered out of a n.i.g.g.e.r ballroom.

The cold air pierced him more quickly since leaving the ballroom. The big wood fire influenced him to return to its comforting warmth. By this time the fire had heated up the room. The heat from the over-heated revellers, the aroma permeating the atmosphere, was not unfamiliar to the Colonel's sense of smell yet none the less unpleasant.

It impelled the Colonel to seek fresh air more quickly than the side remarks had previously. Out in the chilly air he gave way to his thoughts as before, thoughts tinged with even more bitterness.

The fire had made him more and more susceptible to the cold and it was not long ere the Colonel started on his way to warm himself again. Sam met him at the foot of the stairs. Bowing and sc.r.a.ping, he began by apologizing profusely:

"Cunnel, I declars I hates to tell you all but the gemmen dat runs de frolik jus tol' me I has to. I'se been pinted a committee to tell you dey hes made a good hot fire in de back room down stairs fer you. You kin go in an' warm yerself. Dey all doan wants you to k.u.m in de big room up stairs eny more. De fak is, de ladies up dar objecks to de oder ob de stable on yer clothes."

The facts are that a tannery is not as pleasant to the olfactory senses as Pinaud's perfumes, but Alfred, unlike Col. Charlotte, had exposed himself to objectionable odors by working over the vats and leather by day, and thumping the tambourine by night in the big finishing room. But no complaints ever came to his ears of the unpleasant odor of the tannery he carried home with him until Lin was discarded by the minstrel band. Therefore, when the mother, backed by Lin, informed him that he would have to give up his tan-yard affiliations, the boy felt in his heart that as in the Colonel's case, it was not the odor but prejudice.

He almost wished he had arranged that Lin might have retained her place as leader of the singing. But there were other reasons why he was ordered to leave the tanning business.

The Workman Hotel was but a few steps from the old tannery. The new landlord was giving the place a cleaning up. Cal Wyatt, the son of the hotel man, came over to the tannery and requested Alfred, John Caldman, Vince Carpenter and several others to go over during the noon hour to the cellar and give them a hand in stacking up sundry barrels and kegs.

All complied. The barrels were quickly lifted on top of each other. A tin cup full of some sort of fluid was pa.s.sed around several times. All sipped from the cup, much as folks do from a loving cup nowadays. As the barrels were piled higher, the tin cup went around again and again.

Alfred had sipped from a large spoon a little of the same sort of tasting stuff when Grandpap Irons made a little toddy before breakfast.

But never had his lips sunk into a tin cup filled with the stuff previously. A feeling came over him such as he had never experienced, and it seemed as if all in the cellar were similarly affected. Those of the tan-yard hands who had never been known to raise their voices in song, essayed to sing the minstrel songs. Those so awkward that they could not walk naturally endeavored to dance.

Ordinarily Alfred would have laughed himself weak at the hilarious attempts of the tan-yard hands, and their imitations. Under the influence of the tin cup's magic fluid he held them in that contempt that only the professional can feel for the jay who endeavors to imitate him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Tin Cup Went Round Again and Again]

Alfred stood motionless, or as near motionless as he possibly could.

John Caldman, who was known and respected as the one quiet and un.o.btrusive person in the tannery, and from whose lips a loud word never escaped, stood erect and immovable as the singing, dancing tan-yard hands whirled about him. With compressed lips and haughty mien he seemed not to notice them.

Suddenly he spoke and in a voice so loud and unnatural that all were awed into silence. The quiet man had changed so completely he seemed another person. Alfred gazed at him in astonishment. He hurled epithets and denunciations at those whose names he had never before mentioned aloud. He recalled insults and abuse heaped upon him by all connected with the tannery; he invited, he insisted that the biggest and strongest of those about him come out and fight. He dared the whole crowd to jump on him.

None accepting his dare he declared his intention to go to the tan-yard and clean out the old shebang, following his threat with a movement towards the tannery followed by the wobbling crowd.

Entering the big finishing room Alfred saw the infuriated John standing in the middle of the room, an iron hook in one hand, a lump of coal in the other, while the workmen were flying upstairs and down stairs.

Alfred endeavored to follow those who went down stairs. He remembered starting from the first step at the top. Vince Carpenter afterwards informed him he never hit another step in his descent.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Sammy Steele's Mule Kicked the Boy]

Gathering himself up in time to hear Vince shout: "Here comes Mr.

Steele," as badly scared as his dazed senses would permit him to be, Alfred fumbled and scrambled about for a moment. He spied a large wheel-barrow overloaded with cows' ears and other by-products of green hides that go into the refuse and find their way to the glue factory.

This slimy mess was just out of the lime vat.

Alfred grabbed the handles and started with the wheel-barrow he did not know where, his sole object being to stall and make the boss believe he was at work. Along a narrow plank walk he pushed the gruesome load, weaving, wobbling at every step, threatening to go off one side or the other at any moment, headed for the dump where all the water-soaked, discarded tan bark was deposited.

Reaching the dumping ground, standing between the handles of the wheel-barrow, Alfred attempted to overturn it. The handles overturned Alfred. Down the steep incline, rolled Alfred, wheel-barrow and contents in one conglomerate ma.s.s, Alfred under the avalanche of cows' ears, tails, etc.

Mrs. Hampton witnessed from her back porch the race down the dump pile.

Calling a couple of boys the lady led the way to where Alfred lay, digging him from under the slimy mess. The boys loaded the soaking figure into the wheel-barrow and carried him home.

Sammy Steele used as motive power in his bark mill a fine white mare and an iron grey mule. When Alfred could not get the use of the white mare he rode or drove the mule. Alfred's parents and others continually cautioned him to beware of the mule, that it was vicious and would surely kick him.

When the boys arrived at Alfred's home and Lin saw them a.s.sisting the almost senseless boy into the house, she began: "Well, fur the luv of all thet's holy, what's the rumpus now? I'll bet a fip Sammy Steele's mewel's kicked thet boy."

The boys did not reply, depositing their burden on the floor, hastily departed. To Lin's persistent inquiries, Alfred admitted that the mule had kicked him. In a maudlin way he stuttered: "L-o-o-k-o-u-t, Lin, she'll k-k-i-c-k you." Then he laughed a silly laugh.

Lin was convinced that the boy was out of his head, delirious from the mule's kick, sent for the doctor who came in haste. Lin explained that she was "skeered nearly to death. I wus yar all alone an' they k.u.m draggin' him in. I tried to talk with him but he's plum out of his head.

His mother an' his pap an' me an' all of us hes warned him time an'

'gain that that mewel would be his death, but he jus kept a-devilin'

aroun' hit; now ye see what k.u.m of hit. He's jus like he had a stroke of palsy, hit's a wonder the mewel hedn't killed him stun dead. Ef hits palsied him he mought jus es well be dead."

Thus Lin ran on as the old doctor carefully looked the patient over. The doctor had long practiced in Brownsville. Tomato vine poisoning cases were rare. Alfred's ailment on this occasion was common. He made no mistake in diagnosing the case although he did not inform the family of his conclusions. However, he a.s.sured them that "the boy would be all right in a day or two. His appet.i.te might not come to him at once but he would be all right in the morning. Just let him sleep, don't wake him, and when he gets out caution him to--keep away from the mule," added the doctor dryly.

Lin said: "Be durned ef hit ain't the queerest case I ever seed.

Alfurd's jus es sick es he kin be an' the old doctur didn't gin him nothin'."

A few days later it was whispered among the neighbors that Alfred and a number of the tan-yard hands broke into Bill Wyatt's cellar and drank up all his liquor and Alfred, "little as he wus, drinked more'n eny of em."

George Washington Antonio Frazier 'lowed that Alfred "drinked so much he wouldn't want another drink fer a month. I wouldn't ef I'd hed his cargo," he concluded.

Lin threw her head up in disgust as she denied this rumor: "Huh, all ole Frazier is peeved 'bout is bekase he didn't git his ole hog belly filled up fur nuthin'."

Alfred slept he knew not how long. It was night when he awoke. Half awake, he would doze and dream--now he was carrying gourds of water to Uncle Joe, hastening back to get a gourdful for his own parched lips. He would invariably drop the gourd or have some other mishap--he never got the water to his lips.

He realized that there were others in the room, the lamp was too low to distinguish them. He listened endeavoring to hear what they were talking of. The old clock down-stairs struck two, then the little clock on the mantelpiece chimed twice.

A figure arose, softly crossing the room and a hand was laid softly on the boy's forehead. His eyes were closed but he knew it was his mother's hand.

"He is a little less feverish, Pap, you had best go to bed. I'll call Lin early and lie down. Now go on, you have to work and you won't feel like it, if you don't get your sleep. Go on now, if he gets worse, I'll call."

"Gets worse I'll call you." Alfred repeated the words over and over in his mind. He imagined at first that he had been sick a long time. He gathered his thoughts--the old tavern cellar came into his mind, the antics of the tan-yard hands after they had quaffed from the tin cup.

Alfred got no further in his ramblings than the tin cup; only a ray of thought, yet it was of sufficient power to cause the boy to retch and strain as though he would heave his stomach up.

The mother was holding a vessel in one hand and supporting the very sick boy with the other arm.

"Muz, Muz, what's the matter with me--how long have I been sick--d-do you th-i-n-k I'm goin' to die?"

The mother soothed him and persuaded him to go to sleep. Alfred closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He heard footsteps and, peering out of the corner of his eye, he perceived the form of his father bending over him.

Softly walking over to where the mother sat with bowed head, the father began: "I thought I heard him talking. Was he awake?"