Books: The Law of the Land

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"Here, Bill," he called to that worthy, who had now ventured to
return from his hiding-place, "take them out to the yard and fix them
up. Now, boys, go around to the kitchen and tell them to give you
something to eat."

In the confusion of the disbandment of the hunt, the master of the
Big House had as yet hardly found time to look about him, but now, as
the conclave scattered, he found himself alone, and turning,
discovered the occupant of the board-pile, who arose and advanced,
offering his hand.

"This is Colonel Blount, I presume," said he.

"Yes, sir, that's my name. I beg your pardon, I'm sure, but I didn't
know you were there. Come right on into the house and sit down, sir.
Now, your name is--?"

"Eddring," said the new-comer. "John Eddring. I am just down on the
morning train from the city."

"I'm right glad to see you, Mr. Eddring," said Colonel Blount,
extending his hand. "It seems to me I ought to know your family. Over
round Hillsboro, aren't you? Tell me, you're not the son of old Dan
H. Eddring of the Tenth Mississippi in the war?"

"That was an uncle of mine."

"Is that so, is that so? Why, Dan H. Eddring was my father's friend.
They slept and fought and ate together for four years, until my
father was killed in the Wilderness."

"And my uncle before Richmond; John Eddring, my father, long before,
at Ball's Bluff."

"I was in some of that fighting myself," said Colonel Blount, rubbing
his chin. "I was a boy, just a boy. Well, it's all over now. Come on
in. I'm mighty glad to see you." Yet the two, without plan, had now
wandered over toward the shade of the evergreen, and presently they
seated themselves on the board-pile.

"Well, Colonel Blount," said the visitor, "I reckon you must have had
a good hunt."

"Yes, sir, there ain't a b'ah in the Delta can get away from those
dogs. We run this fellow straight on end for ten miles; put him
across the river twice, and all around the Black Bayou, but the dogs
kept him hot all the time, I'm telling you, for more than five miles
through the cane, clean beyond the bayou."

"Who got the shot, Colonel?" asked Eddring--a question apparently
most unwelcome.

"Well, I ought to have had it," said Blount, with a frown of
displeasure. "The fact is, I did take a flying chance from horseback,
when the b'ah ran by in the cane half a mile back of where they
killed him. Somehow I must have missed. A little while later I heard
another shot, and found that young gentleman there, Mr. Decherd, had
beat me in the ride. But man! you ought to have heard that pack for
two hours through the woods. It certainly would have raised your hair
straight up. You ever hunt b'ah, sir?"

"A little, once in a while, when I have the time."

"Well, you don't go away from here without having a good hunt. You
just wait a day or so until my dogs get rested up."

"Thank you, Colonel, but I am afraid I can't stay. You see, I am down
here on a matter of business."

"Business, eh?"--Well, a man that'll let business interfere with a
b'ah hunt has got something wrong about him."

"Well, you see, a railroad man can't always choose," said his guest.

"Railroad man?" said Colonel Blount. A sudden gloom fell on his ruddy
face. "Railroad man, eh? Well, I wish you was something else. Now, I
helped get that railroad through this country--if it hadn't been for
me, they never could have laid a mile of track through here. But now,
do you know what they done did to me the other day, with their damned
old railroad?"

"No, sir, I haven't heard."

"Well, I'll tell you--Bill! Oh, _Bill!_ Go into the house and
get me some ice; and go pick some mint and bring it here to this
gentleman and me--Say, do you know what that railroad did? Why, it
just killed the best filly on my plantation, my best running stock,
too. Now, I was the man to help get that railroad through the Delta,
and I--"

"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said the other, "the road isn't a bad
sort of thing for you-all down here, after all. It relieves you of
the river market and it gives you a double chance to get out your
cotton. You don't have to haul your cotton twelve miles back to the
boat any more. Here is your station right at your door, and you can
load on the cars any day you want to."

"Oh, that's all right, that's all right. But this killing of my
stock?"

"Well, that's so," said the other, facing the point and ruminatingly
biting a splinter between his teeth. "It does look as if we had
killed about everything loose in the whole Delta during the last
month or so."

"Are you on this railroad?" asked Blount, suddenly.

"I reckon I'll have to admit that I am," said the other, smiling.

"Passenger agent, or something of that sort, I reckon? Well, let me
tell you, you change your road. Say, there was a man down below here
last week settling up claims--Bill! Ah-h, _Bill!_ Where you gone?"

"Yes," said Eddring, "it certainly did seem that when we built this
road every cow and every nigger, not to mention a lot of white folks,
made a bee-line straight for our right-of-way. Why, sir, it was a
solid line of cows and niggers from Memphis to New Orleans. How could
you blame an engineer if he run into something once in a while? He
couldn't _help_ it."

"Yes. Now, do you know what this claim settler, this claim agent man
did? Why, he paid a man down below here two stations--what do you
_think_ he paid him for as fine a heifer as ever eat cane? Why,
fifteen dollars!"

"Fifteen dollars!"

"Yes, fifteen dollars."

"That looks like a heap of money for a heifer, doesn't it, Colonel
Blount?"

"A heap of money? Why, no. Heap of _money_? Why, what you mean?"

"Heifers didn't bring that before the road came through. Why, you
would have had to drive that heifer twenty-five miles before you
could get a market, and then she wouldn't have brought over twelve
dollars. Now, fifteen dollars, seems to me, is about right."

"Well, let the heifer go. But there was a cow killed three miles
below here the other day. Neighbors of mine. I reckon that claim
agent wouldn't want to allow any more than fifteen dollars for Jim
Bowles' cow, neither."

"Maybe not."

"Well, never mind about the cow, either; but look here. A nigger lost
his wife down there, killed by these steam cars--looks like the
niggers get fascinated by them cars. But here's Bill coming at last.
Now, Mr. Eddring, we'll just make a little julep. Tell me, how do you
make a julep, sir?"

Eddring hitched a little nearer on the board-pile. "Well, Colonel
Blount," said he, "in our family we used to have an old silver mug--
sort of plain mug, you know, few flowers around the edge of it--been
in the family for years. Now, you take a mug like that, and let it
lie in the ice-box all the time, and when you take it out, it's sort
of got a white frost all over it. Now, my old daddy, he would take
this mug and put some fine ice into it,--not too fine. Then he'd take
a little cut loaf sugar, in another glass, and he'd mash it up in a
little water--not too much water--then he'd pour that in over the
ice. Then he would pour some good corn whisky in till all the
interstices of that ice were filled plumb up; then he'd put some
mint--"

"Didn't smash the mint? Say, he didn't smash the mint, did he?" said
Colonel Blount, eagerly, hitching over toward the speaker.

"Smash it? I should say not, sir! Sometimes, at certain seasons of
the mint, he might just sort of take a twist at the leaf, to sort of
release a little of the flavor, you know. You don't want to be rough
with mint. Just twist it gently between the thumb and finger. Then
you set it in nicely around the edge of the glass. Sometimes just a
little powder of fine sugar around on top of the mint leaves, and
then--"

"Sir," said Colonel Blount, gravely rising and taking off his hat,
"you are welcome to my home!"

Eddring, with equal courtesy, arose and removed his own hat.

"For my part," resumed Blount, judicially, "I rather lean to a piece
of cut glass, for the green and the crystal look mighty fine
together. I don't always make them with any sugar on top of the mint.
But, you know, just a circle of mint--not crushed--not crushed, mind
you--just a green ring of fragrance, so that you can bury your nose
in it and forget your troubles. Sir, allow me once more to shake your
hand. I think I know a gentleman when I see one."

Oddly enough, this pleasant speech seemed to bring a shade of sadness
to Eddring's face. "A gentleman?" said he, smiling slightly. "Well,
don't shake hands with me yet, sir. I don't know. You see, I'm a
railroad man, and I'm here on business."

"Damn it, sir, if it was only your description of a julep, if it was
only your mention of that old family silver mug, devoted to that
sacred purpose, sir, that would be your certificate of character
here. Forget your business. Come down here and live with me. We'll go
hunting b'ah together. Why, man, I'm mighty glad to make your
acquaintance."

"But wait," said Eddring, "there may be two ways of looking at this."

"Well, there's only one way of looking at a julep," said Blount, "and
that's down the mint. Now, I'll show you how we make them down here
in the Sunflower country."

"But, as I was a-saying--" and here Blount set down the glasses
midway in his compounding, and went on with his interrupted
proposition; "now here was that nigger that lost his wife. Of course
he had a whole flock of children. Now, what do you think that claim
agent said he would pay that nigger for his wife?"

"Well, I--"

"Well, but what do you _reckon?"_

"Why, I reckon about fifteen dollars."

"That's it, that's it!" said Blount, slapping his hand upon the board
until the glasses jingled. "That's just what he did offer; fifteen
dollars! Not a damned cent more."

"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said Eddring, "you know there's a heap
of mighty trifling niggers loose in this part of the world. You see,
that fellow would marry again in a little while, and he might get a
heap better woman next time. There's a lot of swapping wives among
these niggers at best. Now, here's a man lost his wife decent and
respectable, and there's nothing on earth a nigger likes better than
a good funeral, even if it has to be his own wife. Now, how many
nigger funerals are there that cost fifteen dollars? I'll bet you if
that nigger had it to do over again he'd a heap rather be rid of her
and have the fifteen dollars. Look at it! Fine funeral for one wife
and something left over to get a bonnet for his new wife. I'll bet
there isn't a nigger on your place that wouldn't jump at a chance
like that."

Colonel Blount scratched his head. "You understand niggers all right,
I'll admit," said he. "But, now, supposing it had been a white man?"

"Well, supposing it was?"

"We don't need to suppose. There was the same thing happened to a
white family. Wife got killed--left three children."

"Oh, you mean that accident down at Shelby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Something-or-other, she was. Well, sir, damn me, if that
infernal claim agent didn't have the face to offer fifteen dollars
for her, too!"

"Looks almost like he played a fifteen dollar limit all the time,
doesn't it?" said Eddring.

"It certainly does. It ain't right."

"Well, now, I heard about that woman. She was a tall, thin creature,
with no liver left at all, and her chills came three times a week.
She wouldn't work; she was red-headed and had only one straight eye;
and as for a tongue--well, I only hope, Colonel Blount, that you and
I will never have a chance to meet anything like that. Of course, I
know she was killed. Her husband just hated her before she died, but
blame _me_, just as soon as she was _dead_, he loved her more than if
she was his sweetheart all over again. Now, that's how it goes. Say, I
want to tell you, Colonel Blount, this road is plumb beneficent, if
only for the fact that it develops human affection in such a way as
this. Fifteen dollars! Why, I tell you, sir, fifteen dollars was more
than enough for that woman!" He turned indignantly on the board-pile.

"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, "that you would say that about my
neighbor Jim Bowles' cow?"

"Certainly. I know about that cow, too. She was twenty years old and
on her last legs. Road kills her, and all at once she becomes a dream
of heifer loveliness. _I_ know."

"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, still more grimly, "I reckon if that
damned claim agent was to come here, he would just about say that
fifteen dollars was enough for my filly."

"I shouldn't wonder. Now, look here, Colonel Blount. You see, I'm a
railroad man, and I'm able to see the other side of these things. We
come down here with our railroad. We develop your country. We give
you a market and we put two cents a pound on top of your cotton
price. We fix it so that you can market your cotton at five dollars a
bale cheaper than you used to. We double and treble the price of
every acre of land within thirty miles of this road. And yet, if we
kill a chance cow, we are held up for it. The sentiment against this
road is something awful."

"Oh, well, all right," said Blount, "but that don't bring my filly
back. You can't get Himyah blood every day in the week. That filly
would have seen Churchill Downs in her day, if she had lived."

"Yes; and if she had, you would have had to back her, wouldn't you?
You would have trained that filly and paid a couple of hundred for
it. You would have fitted her at the track and paid several hundred
more. You would have bet a couple of thousand, anyway, as a matter of
principle, and, like enough, you'd have lost it. Now, if this road
paid you fifteen dollars for that filly and saved you twenty-five
hundred or three thousand into the bargain, how ought you to feel
about it? Are you twenty-five hundred behind, or fifteen ahead?"

Colonel Calvin Blount had now feverishly finished his julep, and as
the other stopped, he placed his glass beside him on the board-pile
and swung a long leg across so that he sat directly facing his
enigmatical guest. The latter, in the enthusiasm of his argument,
swung into a similar position, and so they sat, both hammering on the
board between them.

"Well, I would like to _see_ that damned claim agent offer me
fifteen dollars for that filly," said Blount. "I might take fifty,
for the sake of the road; but fifteen--why, you see, it's not the
money; I don't care fifteen cents for the fifteen dollars, but it's
the principle of the thing. T'aint right."

"Well, what would you do?"

"Well, by God, sir, if I saw that claim agent--"

"Well, by God, sir, _I'm_ that claim agent; and I _do_ offer you
fifteen dollars for that filly, right now!"

"What! You--"

"Yes, me!"

"Fifteen dollars!"

"Yes, sir, fifteen dollars."

Colonel Blount burst into a sudden song--"On _Jor_-dan's strand I'll
_take_ my stand!" he began.

"It's all she's worth," interrupted the claim agent.

Blount fairly gasped. "Do you mean to tell me," said he, in forced
calm, "that you are this claim agent?"

"I have told you. That's the way I make my living. That's my duty."

"Your duty to give me fifteen dollars for a Himyah filly!"

"I said fifteen."

"And I said fifty."

"You don't get it."

"I don't, eh? Say, my friend,"--Blount pushed the glasses away, his
choler rising at the temerity of this, the only man who in many a
year had dared to confront him. "You look here. Write me a check for
fifty; and write it now."

"I've heard about that filly," said the claim agent, "and I've come
here ready to pay you for it. Here you are."

Blount glanced at the check. "Why, it's fifteen dollars," said he,
"and I said fifty."

"But I said fifteen."

"Look here," said Blount, his calm becoming still more menacing, as
with a sudden whip of his hand he reached behind him. Like a flash he
pulled a long revolver from its holster. Eddring gazed into the round
aperture of the muzzle and certain surrounding apertures of the
cylinder. "Write me a check," said Blount, slowly, "and write it for
fifty. I'll tear it up when I get it if I feel like it, but no man
shall ever tell me that I took fifteen dollars for a Himyah filly.
Now you write it."

He spoke slowly. His pistol hand rested on his knee, now suddenly
drawn up. Both voice and pistol barrel were steady.

The eyes of the two met, and which was the braver man it had been
hard to tell. Neither flinched. Eddring returned a gaze as direct as
that which he received. The florid face back of the barrel held a
gleam of half-admiration at witnessing his deliberation. The claim
agent's eye did not falter.

"You said fifty dollars, Colonel Blount," said he, just a suggestion
of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Don't you think there has
been a slight misunderstanding between us two? If you are so blamed
particular, and really _want_ a check for fifty, why, here it is." He
busied himself a moment, and passed over a strip of paper. Even as he
did so, the ire of Colonel Blount cooled as suddenly as it had gained
warmth. A sudden contrition sat on his face, and he crowded the paper
into his pocket with an air half shamefaced.

"Sir--Mr. Eddring," he began falteringly.

"Well, what do you want? You've got your check, and you've got the
railroad. We've paid our little debt to you."

"Sir," said Blount. "My friend--why, sir, here is your julep."

"To hell with your julep, sir!"

"My friend," said Blount, flushing, "you serve me right. I am
forgetting my duties as a gentleman. I ask you into my house."

"I'll see you damned first," said Eddring, hotly.

"Right!" cried Blount, exultingly. "You're right. You're one of the
fighting Eddrings, just like your daddy and your uncle, sure as
you're born! Why, sir, come on in. You wouldn't punish the son of
your uncle's friend, your own daddy's friend, would you?"

But the ire of Eddring was now aroused. A certain smoldering fire,
long with difficulty suppressed, began to flame in spite of him.

"Bring me out a plate," said he, bitterly, "and let me eat on the
gallery. As you say, I am only a claim agent. Good God, man!" and
then of a sudden his wrath arose still higher. His own hand made a
swift motion. "Give me back that check," he said, and his extended
hand presented a weapon held steady as though supported by the limb
of a tree. "You didn't give me a fair show."

[Illustration: "EDDRING GAZED INTO THE ROUND APERTURE OF IHE MUZZLE]

"Well, by the eternal!" half whispered Colonel Calvin Blount to
himself. "Ain't he a fighting chicken?"

"Give it to me," demanded Eddring; and the other, astounded, humbled,
reached into his pocket.

"I will give it to you, boy," said he, soberly, "and twenty like it,
if you'll forget all this and come into my house. I'm mighty sorry. I
don't want the money. You know that. I want _you._ Come on in, man."
He handed back the slip of paper. "Come on in," he repeated.

"I will not, sir," said Eddring. "This was business, and you made it
personal."

"Oh, business!" said Blount.

"Sir," said John Eddring, "the world never understands when a man has
to choose between being a business man and a gentleman. It does not
always come to just that, but you. see, a man has to do what he is
paid to do. Can't you see it is a matter of duty? I can't afford to
be a gentleman--"

"And you are so much one, my son," said Calvin Blount, grimly, "that
you won't do anything but what you know is right. My friend, I won't
ask you in again, not any more, right now. But when you can, come
again, sir, some day. When you can come right easy and pleasant, my
son, why, you know I want you."

John Eddring's hard-set jaw relaxed, trembled, and he dared not
commit himself to speech. With a straight look into Colonel Blount's
eyes, he turned away, and passed on down the path, Blount looking
after him more than half-yearningly.

So intent, indeed, was the latter in his gaze upon the receding
figure that he did not hear the swift rush of light feet on the
gallery, nor turn until Miss Lady stood before him. The girl swept
him a deep courtesy, spreading out the skirt of her biscuit-colored
gown in mocking deference of posture.

"Please, Colonel Cal," said she, "since he can't hear the dinner
bell, would he be good enough to tell whether or not he will come in
and eat? Everything is growing cold; and I made the biscuits."

Calvin Blount put out his hand, and a softer shade came upon his
face. "Oh, it's you, Miss Lady, is it?" said he. "Yes, I'm back home
again. And you made the biscuits, eh?"

"You are back home," said Miss Lady, "all but your mind. I called to
you several times. Who is that gentleman you are staring at? Why
doesn't he come in and eat with us?"

Colonel Blount turned slowly as Miss Lady tugged at his arm. "Who is
he?" he replied half-musingly. "Who is he? You tell me. He refused to
eat in Calvin Blount's house; that's why he didn't come in, Miss
Lady. He says he's the cow coroner on the Y. V. road, but I want to
tell you, he's the finest fellow, and the nearest to a gentleman,
that ever struck this country. That's what he is. I'm mighty troubled
over his going away, Miss Lady, mighty troubled." And indeed his face
gave warrant to these words, as with slow footsteps and frowning
brow, he yielded to the pressure of the light hand on his arm, and
turned toward the gallery steps.

CHAPTER V

CERTAIN PROBLEMS

After his midday meal, Colonel Calvin Blount, wandering aimlessly
and none too well content about the yard, came across one of his
servants, who was in the act of unrolling the fresh bear hide and
spreading it out to dry. He kicked idly at a fold in the hide.

"Look here, Jim," he said suddenly, "Mr. Decherd killed this b'ah,
didn't he?"

"Yassah," said Jim.

"And he shoots a rifle; and here are three holes--buckshot holes--in
the hide. And you had a gun loaded with buckshot. Did you lend it to
Mr. Decherd?"

"No, sah," said Jim, turning his head away.

"Look here, boy," said Blount. "There is no liar, black or white, can
go out with my dogs; because my dogs don't lie and I don't. Now, tell
me about this."

"Well, Cunnel," said the boy, half ready to blubber, "the b'ah was
faihly a-chawin' ol' Fly up. He wus right at me, an' I ran up close
so's not to hurt ol' Fly, and I done shot him."

"That's all right," said Colonel Blount. "How about the rest?"

"Well, sah, I had the b'ah mos' skinned, when up comes Mr. 'Cherd.
'That's my b'ah,' said he. 'Co'se it is,' says I. Then he 'lowed he'd
give me two dollahs ef I said he was de man dat killed de b'ah."

Blount stared reflectively at a knot-hole in the side of the barn.

"Jim," said he, at length, "give me the two dollars. I'll take care
of that." So saying, he swung on his heel and turned away.

The day was now far advanced, and the great white house had grown
silent. As Blount entered, he met no one at first, but finally at the
door of a half-darkened room midway of the hall, he heard the rustle
of a gown and saw approaching him the not uncomely figure of the
quasi-head of the menage, Mrs. Ellison. The latter moved slowly and
easily forward, pausing at the doorway, where, so framed, she
presented a picture attractive enough to arrest the attention of even
a bear-hunting bachelor.

"I am glad to see you back, Colonel," said she. "I am always so
uneasy when you are away;" she sighed.

Blount felt himself vaguely uncomfortable, but was not quite able to
turn away.

"I was just in my room," said Mrs. Ellison, "as I heard you passing
by. I had a little headache."

"That's too bad," said Colonel Blount, and turned again to go. The
unspoken invitation of the other still restrained him. She leaned
against the door, soft-eyed, her white hand waving an effective fan,
an attractive, a seductive picture.

"Why don't you ever come in and sit down and talk to me for a
minute?" said she, at length. "I scarcely see you at all any more."

Blount gathered an uneasy hint of something, he knew not what; yet he
followed her back into the half-darkened room, and presently, seated
near her, and wrapped in his own enthusiasms, forgot all but the bear
chase, whose incidents he began eagerly to relate. His vis-a-vis sat
looking at him with eyes which took in fully the careless strength of
his tall and strong figure. For some time now her eyes had rested on
this same figure, this man who had to do with work and the chase,
with hardship and adventure, and never anything more gentle--this man
who could not see!

"You must be more careful," said Mrs. Ellison. "But still, you are
safely back, and I'm glad you had good luck."

"Well, I don't know what you would call good luck," said Blount. "The
fact is, I had a little trouble, coming in."

"Trouble? In what way?"

"Well, it happened this way," said he, with a quick glance about him.
"I don't like to mention such things, but I suppose you ought to
know. This was about a couple of negroes back in the country a way.
You know, I am a sort of deputy sheriff, and I was called on to do a
little work with those same negroes. I suppose you know, ma'am, that
those negroes used to run this whole state a few years ago, though
they ain't studying so much about politics to-day."

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