Chapter XXIV: A Beethoven and a Gibbon in One

"HELLOA!" exclaimed Daggett, as he approached the gate, "where's the hind wheels?"

"The road was rough, and the wagon uncoupled," said the major. "They are on the causeway, but you need not mind them till morning. Perhaps you had better have Will take care of the team. I shall want you to do an errand for me in the course of an hour."

Daggett case some curious looks at Mr. Boutwell as he opened the gate and led the team through it.

"Whatever is the matter with you, James Ratke?" ejaculated Mrs. Grippin, when her brother and his unwilling vistor stood before her. "You've been fighting. That's just the way you used to look when you was a boy and got into rows. I'd be ashamed, an old man like you."

"Mr. Boutwell, my sister," said the major, ignoring Mrs. Grippin's tirade. "Come this way, Mr. Boutwell, and we will wash."

Ratke treated the spurious wagon manufacturer with the utmost deference. He kept an eye on his movements, however, and Mr. Boutwell understood that though he might expect the treatment of a king, it would be that of a captive king. He got him water wash and insisted that his would be dressed before his own. Mr. Boutwell, whose experience with the philosopher had taught him better than to refuse his courtesies, was the picture of humiliation, as Ratke clumsily adjusted plasters over his split upper lip and a contusion on his cheek. Mrs. Grippin, unable to longer absent herself, entered the kitchen, where she was followed by the girls, who had arisen to ascertain what had befallen their uncle. The major in his most polite manner introduced Mr. Boutwell to the young ladies.

"So you've been fighting, Uncle James," said Nora. "Who did you have a fight with?"

"I cannot explain it to you now, little girl," said the major.

"You will, won't you, Mr. Boutwell?" said Nora. "Oh, you got into it, too, did you? You and Uncle James must have been together against a lot of 'em. Uncle James always sticks by his friends. Didn't he stick by you?"

"Close enough," answered Mr. Boutwell with a grin.

"You are badly hurt. Uncle James," said Manie. "Your eye is swollen, almost shut, and the cut under it does not stop bleeding yet."

"It is nothing," said Ratke, "a little scratch. It takes a worse wound than that to affect me."

Manie put a plaster over the bruised part. One of the major's eyes looked sleepy, and Mr. Boutwell's face was spotted with contusions and plasters.

"This way now, Mr. Boutwell," said the major, leading the way to the parlor, "make yourself comfortable while I do some writing."

"Manie," he called, when he had finished a short note, "tell Mark to take this to Jim Turner. And now, Mr. Boutwell," he said, "we will go."

"I wonder where in the world they've gone to at this time of the night," said Mrs. Grippin, as the sound of their footsteps was dying away. "Some notion James has got, I suppose."

"Who do you think they had a fight with?" asked Nora.

"How do you suppose I know any more than you do?" sharply returned Mrs. Grippin. "James ought to have more care for his reputation than to get into such a scrape. And the president of a big wagon company surely could find better business than fighting."

"Maybe they stopped to Break o'Day, and somebody pitched into 'em," suggested Nora.

"More likely somebody made fun of James' wagon, and he got mad," said Mrs. Grippin. "That'll touch him up the quickest of anything."

The major returned late, and Mr. Boutwell was not with him. He refused to give any information concerning his visitor, except that he had gone and would not again come back. The next morning, waxing more communicative, he yielded to Mrs. Grippin's influence, and admitted that Mr. Boutwell had attempted to rob him.

"That's the way your speculation turned out," commented Mrs. Grippin. "You might know he didn't mean it when he said he was coming to buy your wagon. He ain't such a fool as I thought he was."

"He is no fool," said Ratke. "He wished to obtain my money. He estimated properly the force at his disposal, but fell into the common error of miscalculating the amount of resistance. I must have Mark hitch up Taylor. I shall have to go to Jackson to-day."

"Why, to-day, is the day Durgenson is coming," said Mrs. Grippin.

"He wrote me that he cannot be here until to-morrow," said Ratke.

"Now," cautioned the housekeeper, "don't you take that money with you, James. It's the safest here."

"I had rather risk it with me," said the major. "I am able to defend it."

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Grippin. "Such a careless man! You'll fall in with a sleek fellow that wants to buy your wagon, or some other knave; and the first thing you know, it will be gone. Now, James," she said with more moderation, "where did you get that money?"

"Maria," answered the major, "I got it from the Barton hundred and sixty. I have sold it."

Without a word Mrs. Grippin turned and went to the parlor. Their last foot of land had been sold. She knew not when the order would come to leave the homestead and go into the street. They might find a home, but what kind of home? Nora would go to her aristocratic relatives. Manie might die or get married. She pictured mentally the two who formed the relic of the family, Ratke grubbing by the day, herself doing washing for Sparks and Mrs. Green. She was not ashamed to work; but she was ashamed to know and to have the world know that their property had been recklessly parted with, to slave for others in their old age, and finally to be dependent on local charity or go to the poor-house.

The major came home at dusk. "Well, Maria," he said, "I have escaped without meeting any bad fortune."

"You want to look out for to-night," cautioned his sister. "Everybody knows that money is here. You must watch it to-night."

"I am too tired to sit up," Ratke objected. "I was up all last night. It will be all right under my head."

"No, it won't," said Mrs. Grippin. "You've got to get some one to watch it, then."

"I hardly know whom to get," said the major. "All the men up west have been to Oakville, looking after the fire. Perhaps Philetus would come."

"Phleet," cried Mrs. Grippin wrathfully, "Phleet Takum! Haven't you got any more judgment than that? You know he takes whatever he can lay his hands on!"

"I suppose I might hire Abner Wallace," suggested Ratke.

"I declare!" ejaculated Mrs. Grippin, after a moment of speechlessness. "Pick out a thief to watch money! James, you are a bright one! Get one of your men."

"I hate to ask them to do such things when they work hard," said the major. "Mark is always willing to do odd chores, but he did not go to bed till late last night. I will see what I can do with them."

As the major went up the club-house steps, there was a scrambling among the inmates. He opened the door too late to see what had occasioned the confusion. The table was covered with a newspaper, which was raised at one corner enough to show several cards. But he did not notice the evidence of immorality.

"Will," he said, "Maria will give me no peace until I get a man to stay in the house to-night. She thinks we are liable to be robbed. I have not the slightest fear of such a danger, but to keep peace in the family I must do as she wishes. Can you come?"

"I've been to work awful hard to-day," said Archer. "That's tough ploughing, you know. It's all I can do to keep the plough in the ground. I could get along with it, but I'm all drilled out."

"I know it is hard work," said Ratke, "But Mark was up last night, and I cannot ask him to go."

"I'll go, Major," said Daggett,

"No," said the major, "I will not let you. You have lost sleep enough."

"I wouldn't care so much about it," said Archer, "if it wasn't for to-morrow. But this working as tight as you can jump and then being up all night, and then keeping right on the next day, it's too much."

"Oh, as to that," said Ratke, "you can sleep twenty-four hours, commencing at six o'clock, if you wish."

"Seeing it's an emergency, I'll go," said Archer. "Of course, I'm willing to make some sacrifice, Major."

"You need not come until ten o'clock unless you wish," said the major, opening the door to depart, "We will sit up as late as that."

"He wanted you," said Daggett, "and he didn't seem to want anybody else, I wonder why that was."

"Well," said Archer, "he knows what I am. I've worked for him a good while."

"Say," said Daggett, "if you get into a snooze, and a horse-thief goes to jabbing you with a fish-pole, you want to holler."

Archer, not relishing the reminiscences of his watch in the swamp, went at once to the house.

Mrs. Grippin was in a passion over the major's choice of watchman. "Now, Will," she said, "I want you to have some gumption about you. Wake up once in your life."

"Yes," said Archer, "I'll tend right to it, Mrs. Grippin, The major knows he can trust me for that."

"I hope he is right," said Mrs. Grippin, "He and the girls are in the parlor."

The major explained his plan of guarding the money. There was no danger, he said, but seeing Archer was to watch, he should take every precaution against a robbery. He should extinguish the light, he should barricade every door leading to the room. Then with the money and a revolver he should get into a dark corner. The north-east was the best one.

"This reminds me of an incident which happened in Wisconsin Territory," said Ratke, "when we were chasing Black Hawk. We had been marching all day, constantly expecting to come up with the Indians. At night we camped in the edge of a strip of woods, I was just thinking of what a fine sleep I should have when the sergeant told me I was on for picket duty. My watch commenced at one o'clock. They posted me at least seventy rods from the camp, a short distance from a creek. It was rather a dark night and as we looked for an assault, I did not fancy the position. Standing where the enemy can see you, but you cannot see him, is quite different from advancing toward a perceptible danger. I knew that if the Sacs and Foxes were prowling about, they had an excellent chance to get my scalp. Sounds as of something going cautiously over the leaves kept coming from some woods on the other side of the creek. Presently there was a disturbance in the water, a subdued splashing which I knew to be occasioned by the crossing of a man or of some animal. The grass, which was tall and thick, began to wave suspiciously, and to add to my uneasiness the waves were coming toward me. I was at a loss what to do. Staying there for a target with the certainty of being hit the first fire was not in the least agreeable. Abandoning the post and giving an unnecessary alarm was to be avoided if possible. I got under cover of a tree, held my rifle ready to use, and waited. I could see a distinct advancing motion of the grass. I own I was nervous as I fired. I was still more so, when the steady motion changed to a spasmodic struggling and some objects which I could not see retreated: I had now no doubt as to the proximity of the Indians, but I did not think it my duty to go to the spot where I had heard the struggling. I waited a few minutes and could plainly distinguish more splashing as if others were crossing the creek. In a few minutes I was certain that some figures were skulking along between me and the camp. The disturbance in the grass near the creek continued. The camp had been warned and I felt justifiable in abandoning my post. As I bore to the right, three or four shots from the direction of the skulkers made me give one mighty jump. I brought my rifle to my shoulder, fired and ran. When I got to camp, everybody was up ready for an attack. The first man I met was the orderly sergeant.

"'Why, Ratke,' said the sergeant when I came up, 'we thought they'd killed you. Did you shoot at them or did they shoot at you?'

"'Both,' I answered.

"'Well, that's queer,' said the sergeant. 'We heard only one shot.'

"'I should think it is queer,' I answered. 'I fired at them. Then they got between me and the camp and fired three or four shots at me and I fired back.'

"'Now I don't see how that is,' said the sergeant. 'We saw one of them moving off. We fired at him, and he fired back, and the ball just scraped Montcalm's side.'

"'What!' I said, 'was it you who came out there?' I understood it then. They had heard the shot I fired and had crept out, when we mutually mistook each other for Indians, In the morning I found near my post the body of the largest raccoon I ever saw. New guards are always fearful of an attack from the enemy. They forget that the same prudence which they have will keep the foe from hazarding a rash assault."

"Can't you sing something for us, Mr. Archer?" asked Nora, beginning to yawn.

"Oh, I guess not, Mrs. Warfle," answered Archer, in the manner which indifferent artists employ to induce more urging. "I guess I hadn't better."

"Oh, yes, now, Mr. Archer," pleaded Nora. "If you only knew how we like to hear you. Why, if I could sing like you can, I'd give almost anything."

"That's what a good many folks have said, but still I don't claim to be anything great," observed Archer modestly.

"How did you learn to sing so nice?" inquired Nora.

"Well," said Archer, "it's Nature does the most of it."

At this juncture the vain major, whose greatest intolerance was for the weakness which he shared, left the room, unwilling to see his own folly in so exaggerated a form.

"You can sing so strong," said Nora. "I've heard Aunt Maria say she never knew any one with such a voice."

"Now, Nora," said Mrs. Grippin, suddenly making her appearance, "you've got to quit such nonsense for I won't have it! You shan't be mixing my name in."

Archer supposed that the housekeeper was displeased because she rightly suspected that he was making a deep impression on Nora. Loath to give up the exercise of his fascination, he exchanged sly glances with the young lady, to the great wrath of Mrs. Grippin, who determined to wait until the proper moment, and then, rising in her just indignation, to send Nora to bed. But as Nora caught the gleam of her eye, and Archer abandoned his winking and leering on finding that they were not returned, the Trebian ambush was never sprung. Mrs. Grippin finally returned to her room, saying, as she did so, "Now, Nora, if I hear any more nonsense, you'll start to bed."

"Mr. Archer," said Nora, a few minutes after the departure of her stern relative, "did you ever read history much?"

"Yes," said Archer, "I've read it a good deal."

"Who do you think was the greatest man that ever lived?"

"Well, now, I can't say positive," said Archer with a wise nod, "but I kind o' think George Washington was, don't you?"

"No," said Nora, "I think Tammany Hall was. But they didn't treat him very well, though."

"That's a fact," said Archer, "they used him miserable."

"Who do you think was to blame?"

"Well, now, it's been a good while since I've read it and a fellow will forget, you know. What do you think?"

"I think Queen Elizabeth was. Let's see. What was it he said when he got on board the steamer that was to take him to Cape Colony? Farewell, O England, thou land of my birth.'"

"Yes, that was it," assented Archer.

"Oh, no. It wasn't either, come to think of it," said Nora. "Don't you remember? "'Long have I served thee O, Queen,' Long hath my love to thee been. He was a poet, you know."

"That's so," said Archer. "I do remember now."

"What do you think of Moses the Great?"

"I think he was quite a man."

"I guess he was quite a man. He conquered the whole world, you know."

"Yes, I know it," said Archer, bobbing his head.

"Oh, no," exclaimed Nora, "not quite all when we think about it. There was Elisha the Seventh, of Russia, beat him at Waterloo."

"So he did," admitted Archer.

"How Moses the Great did run his horses to get away," pursued Nora, "full-blooded Hambletonians, too. They said they run awful."

"They claim they scratched gravel to beat all," said Archer.

"You can find pictures of all the great men in this history of the world," said Nora, bringing from one of the bookcases a large volume with morocco back and corners.

"I like to look at pictures. Mrs. Warfle," said Archer, taking the history.

"Let's see," said Nora, "they called Elisha the Seventh Giant Lishe, because he was such a great man to fight."

"I know they did," said Archer, "He was a tearer let loose."

"Isn't it time to go to bed?" asked Manie.

"No," answered Nora, "I'm not going to bed yet. Go on if you want to. I believe he was born in the year eight hundred and two. I think his greatest exploit was at the battle of Lundy's Lane, where he slew Olyppus the Tiger with his own hand. Let's see, was it one of his own officers that killed him?"

"I don't remember," said Archer. "I've had to work so hard lately that I ain't read much. But I was posted once."

"Oh, no," said Nora, "don't you remember? He was blown up by nitro-glycerine, blown to pieces so they couldn't find any of his body to burry?"

"That's so, Mrs. Warfle," assented Archer. "He was teetotally smashed."

The door suddenly opened and the staring visage of Mrs. Grippin was thrust inside.

"Nora," she exclaimed, "we've had enough Giant Lishe for to-night. Now you can poke straight to bed."

Manie immediately rose to leave, and Nora, knowing that it was useless for her to argue, prepared to obey her aunt's orders. She went to the bookcase and slipped under her apron a novel, which she intended to read in her room. Archer, left to himself, turned over the pages of the history to see if he could find the portraits of the heroes whose merits he had been reviewing. He found many military scenes and many pictures of warriors whose heads were adorned with smooth helmets or jagged crowns. But in his search he was not confronted by the battle-scarred face of Moses the Great or Giant Lishe.

Mrs. Grippin soon came back and ordered him to prepare for the night's vigil. She blew out the light, told him to get in the corner designated by the major and bade him a final good-night.

It chanced that the sofa was in that corner. Archer was tired. It occurred to him that he could watch as well reclining as erect. He laid the money on one end of the lounge, placed his coat on it and his head on the coat. The ticking of a small clock increased his drowsiness, and in five minutes he was asleep.

An hour later an intruder was in the room, carefully lifting Archer's head and removing the bag in his possession, when the eyes of the sleeper unclosed and Archer raised himself on his elbow. The robber dashed through the hall, running close to Nora, who was returning to the library with the book which she had taken. He entered the front bedroom and sprang through the open window, disappearing among the evergreens, just as Archer, who was now thoroughly awake, fired two shots after his retreating figure.