Chapter III: Emigration and Adventure

A BOY AT THE HEAD OF A HOUSEHOLD. MEETING "THE DEVIL AND HIS WIFE." AN EARLY REFORM

The boy of ten was now the head of the household. He had his mother and sister, and most of the negroes still remained; but he was the "man of the house" and was mature before his time. Except in the matter of strength, he was a man's equal--he could do whatever a man could do. Already he was a crack shot, and at the age of twelve he hunted deer, and killed them, alone. Long before, even during his father's first absence, he had followed runaway slaves with the blood-hounds and without other assistance had captured them and marched them back to the plantation. It was not a child's work, and we may not approve of it to-day, but we must confess that it constituted a special training for the part he was to play in after years.

The war ended at last, and with it the McDonald fortune. Slaves and cotton were gone. Only a remnant of land, then worthless, remained. Eunice McDonald, widowed, with two children--her home left desolate by the ravages of war--knew not which way to turn. A bachelor brother with his face set Texasward offered to make a home for her in the new land. She accepted the offer, and in 1866 they reached east Texas and settled in Rusk County, near Henderson, the county-seat. Here the brother and sister made an effort to retrieve their broken fortunes, with moderate success. All the family worked hard, and young McDonald, now in his fifteenth year and really a man in achievements, did a man's part on the farm, attending school a portion of the year. His uncle permitted him to earn some money for himself by cutting wood and hauling it to the village, and a part of this money he laid away. Such leisure as he had, he spent in following the hounds, and presently, even as a boy, became famous for his marksmanship. Coon hunting was perhaps his favorite diversion, and frequently with his dogs he threaded the dark woods all night, alone.

But he had not as yet achieved that perfect fearlessness which distinguished him in later years, and there is still another instance recorded where his presence of mind failed to work. This latter is a curious circumstance, indeed, and should be investigated, perhaps, by the Society of Psychical Research.

He had been out on one of his long night tramps and was very tired next evening when his work was done. Coming in, he threw himself down on a lounge in the hallway and was soon sound asleep. By and by his mother came along and wakened him.

"It's bed-time, Bill Jess," she said.

He got up, walked out toward the gate, and she supposed he was awake. When he really awoke, he was a mile from there, leaning on the gate of one Jasper Smith, the father of two young ladies whom Bill Jess was in the habit of visiting. Realizing where he was, and what might happen to him if discovered just there, he set out for home down the wide public road, when suddenly a little way ahead he saw two objects perched on the top of the rail fence. At first he thought they were two men, and was not disturbed; then all at once they had left the top of that fence and in the wink of an eye, lit in the road directly in front of him.

"It was the devil and his wife," McDonald declared. "They had horns and tails, exactly like all the pictures of the devil I ever saw. Of course it might have been the devil and his brother; anyway they belonged to that family. I got by those things. I didn't debate a minute, but went home as fast as my legs could carry me, emptying my pockets as I ran, which I had always heard the darkeys say would keep off witches. There was a short way home by the graveyard, but I didn't take it. I kept to the big road, and when I did get home, I didn't wait to go around to the door, but went right in the open window where my mother was. She said that I had imagined everything, but I hadn't. There was no imagination about it."

Curiously enough, soon after this happened a little flock of school-children passing near the same rail fence in daylight, saw something that scared them so badly that some of them fainted. But by this time Bill Jess had gathered himself, and taking his gun he loaded it heavily and went devil hunting. However, without success.

In spite of this slight lapse, young McDonald probably considered himself a man, now. We have seen that he was already calling on the young ladies, and in the locality where he lived an ability to drink whiskey was regarded as another manly achievement. There was a small still-house located not far from his home, and he got into the habit of visiting it and of tasting the output. One day he tasted too much and did not return either in good season or condition. When his mother prepared to administer punishment, he pulled away from her and stated that he would not take a whipping. But Eunice McDonald was not one to condone such rebellion. She put away the rod and bided her time. One night when Bill Jess was fast asleep she wrapped and pinned him securely in a sheet and laid on such a thrashing as gave him a permanent distaste both for liquor and disobedience.

At another time it was attentions paid to a young lady that got him into difficulties. The young lady was the sister of his school teacher, and the latter did not approve of anything resembling attachment between the two. One day the young wooer wrote a letter in school, and passing it down the line it unluckily fell under the eye of the teacher, who captured and read it, forthwith.

"I'll settle with you at recess, sir," he said, nailing Bill Jess to the seat with his eye.

Bill Jess didn't care to have him settle. He was willing to let the account run right along, and to knock off the interest. He decided not to wait. The teacher had his back to the board, working out something hard, when Bill Jess went away. He didn't rush wildly. He didn't even run--not exactly--but he lost no time, tip-toeing out of there. Neither did he go home. He'd gone home once in disgrace, and he remembered what had happened. Eunice McDonald's combination of sheet and horse-whip offered no fresh inducements in that direction. He walked twenty miles to a saw-mill and got a job. Then, by and by, everything blew over; everybody was sorry, and he returned home to forgiveness and safety. A cyclone hit the school-house for some reason or other about this time and demolished it, Bill Jess being raked out of the debris undamaged in any particular. Perhaps this was vindication.