Books: The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come
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John Fox, Jr. >> The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come
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The neighbors were gathered to watch the departure--old Jerry Budd, blacksmith
and "yarb doctor," and his folks; the Cultons and Middletons, and even the
Dillons--little Tad and Whizzer--and all. And a bright picture of Arcadia the
simple folk made, the men in homespun and the women with their brilliant
shawls, as they stood on the bank laughing, calling to one another, and
jesting like children. All were aboard now and there was no kissing nor
shaking hands in the farewell. The good old mother stood on the bank, with
Melissa holding to her apron and looking at Chad gravely.
"Take good keer o' yo'self, Chad," she said kindly, and then she looked down
at the little girl. "He's a-comin' back, honey--Chad's a-comin' back." And
Chad nodded brightly, but Melissa drew her apron across her mouth, dropped her
eyes to the old rifle in the boy's lap, and did not smile.
All were aboard now--Dolph and Rube, old Squire Middleton, and the
school-master, all except Tall Tom, who stood by the tree to unwind the cable.
"Hold on!" shouted the Squire.
A raft shot suddenly around the bend above them and swept past with the Dillon
brothers Jake and Jerry, nephews of old Tad Dillon, at bow and stern--passed
with a sullen wave from Jerry and a good-natured smile from stupid Jake.
"All right," Tom shouted, and he unwound the great brown pliant vine from the
sycamore and leaped aboard. Just then there was a mad howl behind the house
and a gray streak of light flashed over the bank and Jack, with a wisp of rope
around his neck, sprang through the air from a rock ten feet high and landed
lightly on the last log as the raft shot forward. Chad gulped once and his
heart leaped with joy, for he had agreed to leave Jack with old Joel, and old
Joel had tied the dog in the barn.
"Hi!" shouted the old hunter. "Throw that dawg off, Chad--throw him off."
But Chad shook his head and smiled.
"He won't go back," he shouted, and, indeed, there was Jack squatted on his
haunches close by his little master and looking gravely back as though he were
looking a last good-by.
"Hi there!" shouted old Joel again. "How am I goin to git along without that
dawg? Throw him off, Boy--throw him off, I tell ye!" Chad seized the dog by
the shoulders, but Jack braced himself and, like a child, looked up in his
master's face. Chad let go and shook his head.
A frantic yell from Tall Tom at the bow oar drew every eye to him. The current
was stronger than anyone guessed and the raft was being swept by an eddy
straight for the point of the opposite shore where there was a sharp turn in
the river.
"Watch out thar," shouted old Joel, "you're goin to 'bow'!" Dolph and Rube
were slashing the stern oar forward and back through the swift water, but
straight the huge craft made for that deadly point. Every man had hold of an
oar and was tussling in silence for life. Every man on shore was yelling
directions and warning, while the women shrank back with frightened faces.
Chad scarcely knew what the matter was, but he gripped his rifle and squeezed
Jack closer to him. He heard Tom roar a last warning as the craft struck,
quivered a moment, and the stern swept around. The craft had "bowed."
"Watch out--jump, boys, jump! Watch when she humps! Watch yo' legs!" These
were the cries from the shore, and still Chad did not understand. He saw Tom
leap from the bow, and, as the stern swung to the other shore, Dolph, too,
leaped. Then the stern struck. The raft humped in the middle like a bucking
horse--the logs ground savagely together. Chad heard a cry of pain from Jack
and saw the dog fly up in the air and drop in the water. He and his gun had
gone up, too, but he came back on the raft with one leg in between two logs
and he drew it up in time to keep the limb from being smashed to a pulp as the
logs crashed together again, but not quickly enough to save the foot from a
painful squeeze. Then he saw Tom and Dolph leap back again, the raft whirled
on and steadied in its course, and behind him he saw Jack swimming feebly for
the shore--fighting the waves for his life, for the dog was hurt. Twice he
turned his eyes despairingly toward Chad, and the boy would have leaped in the
water to save him if Tom had not caught him by the arm.
"Tell him to git to shore," he said quickly, and Chad motioned, when Jack
looked again, and the dog obediently made for land. Old Joel was calling
tenderly:
"Come on, Jack; come on, ole feller!"
Chad watched with a thumping heart. Once Jack went under, but gave no sound.
Again he disappeared, and when he came up he gave a cry for help, but when he
heard Chad's answering cry he fought on stroke by stroke until Chad saw old
Joel reach out from the bushes and pull him in. And Chad could see that one of
his hind legs hung limp. Then the raft swung around the curve out of sight.
Behind, the whole crowd rushed down to the water's edge. Jack tried to get
away from old Joel and scramble after Chad on his broken leg, but old Joel
held him, soothing him, and carried him back to the house, where the old "yarb
doctor" put splints on the leg and bound it up tightly, just as though it had
been the leg of a child. Melissa was crying and the old man put his hand on
her head.
"He'll be all right, honey. That leg'll be as good as the other one in two or
three weeks. It's all right, little gal."
Melissa stopped weeping with a sudden gulp. But when Jack was lying in the
kitchen by the fire alone, she slipped in and put her arm around the dog's
head, and, when Jack began to lick her face, she bent her own head down and
sobbed.
CHAPTER 5. OUT OF THE WILDERNESS
On the way to God's Country at last! Already Chad had schooled himself for the
parting with Jack, and but for this he must--little man that he was--have
burst into tears. As it was, the lump in his throat stayed there a long while,
but it passed in the excitement of that mad race down the river. The old
Squire had never known such a tide.
"Boys," he said, gleefully, "we're goin' to make a REcord on this trip--you
jus' see if we don't. That is, if we ever git thar alive."
All the time the old man stood in the middle of the raft yelling orders. Ahead
was the Dillon raft, and the twin brothers--the giants, one mild, the other
sour-faced--were gesticulating angrily at each other from bow and stern. As
usual, they were quarrelling. On the Turner raft, Dolph was at the bow, the
school-master at the stern, while Rube--who was cook--and Chad, in spite of a
stinging pain in one foot, built an oven of stones, where coffee could be
boiled and bacon broiled, and started a fire, for the air was chill on the
river, especially when they were running between the hills and no sun could
strike them.
When the fire blazed up, Chad sat by it watching Tall Tom and the
school-master at the stern oar and Rube at the bow. When the turn was sharp,
how they lashed the huge white blades through the yellow water--with the
handle across their broad chests, catching with their toes in the little
notches that had been chipped along the logs and tossing the oars down and up
with a mighty swing that made the blades quiver and bend like the tops of
pliant saplings! Then, on a run, they would rush back to start the stroke
again, while the old Squire yelled:
"Hit her up thar now--easy--easy! NOW! Hit her up! Hit her up--NOW!"
Now they passed between upright, wooded, gray mountain-sides, threaded with
faint lines of the coming green; now between gray walls of rock streaked white
with water-falls, and now past narrow little valleys which were just beginning
to sprout with corn. At the mouth of the creeks they saw other rafts making
ready and, now and then, a raft would shoot out in the river from some creek
ahead or behind them. In an hour, they struck a smooth run of several hundred
yards where the men at the oars could sit still and rest, while the raft shot
lightly forward in the middle of the stream; and down the river they could see
the big Dillons making the next sharp turn and, even that far away, they could
hear Jerry yelling and swearing at his patient brother.
"Some o' these days," said the old Squire, "that fool Jake's a-goin' to pick
up somethin' an' knock that mean Jerry's head off. I wonder he hain't done it
afore. Hit's funny how brothers can hate when they do git to hatin'."
That night, they tied up at Jackson--to be famous long after the war as the
seat of a bitter mountain-feud. At noon the next day, they struck "the
Nahrrers" (Narrows), where the river ran like a torrent between high steep
walls of rock, and where the men stood to the oars watchfully and the old
squire stood upright, watching every movement of the raft; for "bowing" there
would have meant destruction to the raft and the death of them all. That night
they were in Beattyville, whence they floated next day, along lower hills and,
now and then, past a broad valley. Once Chad looked at the school-master--he
wondered if they were approaching the Bluegrass--but Caleb Hazel smiled and
shook his head. And had Chad waited another half hour, he would not have asked
the question, even with his eyes, for they swept between high cliffs
again--higher than he had yet seen.
That night they ran from dark to dawn, for the river was broader and a
brilliant moon was high; and, all night, Chad could hear the swish of the
oars, as they floated in mysterious silence past the trees and the hills and
the moonlit cliffs, and he lay on his back, looking up at the moon and the
stars, and thinking about the land to which he was going and of Jack back in
the land he had left; and of little Melissa. She had behaved very strangely
during the last few days before the boy had left. She had not been sharp with
him, even in play. She had been very quiet--indeed, she scarcely spoke a word
to him, but she did little things for him that she had never done before, and
she was unusually kind to Jack. Once, Chad found her crying behind the barn,
and then she was very sharp with him, and told him to go away and cried more
than ever. Her little face looked very white, as she stood on the bank, and,
somehow, Chad saw it all that night in the river and among the trees and up
among the stars, but he little knew what it all meant to him or to her. He
thought of the Turners back at home, and he could see them sitting around the
big fire--Joel with his pipe, the old mother spinning flax, Jack asleep on the
hearth, and Melissa's big solemn eyes shining from the dark corner where she
lay wide-awake in bed and, when he went to sleep, her eyes followed him in his
dreams.
When he awoke, the day was just glimmering over the hills, and the chill air
made him shiver, as he built up the fire and began to get breakfast ready. At
noon, that day, though the cliffs were still high, the raft swung out into a
broader current, where the water ran smoothly and, once, the hills parted and,
looking past a log-cabin on the bank of the river, Chad saw a stone
house--relic of pioneer days--and, farther out, through a gap in the hills, a
huge house with great pillars around it and, on the hill-side, many sheep and
fat cattle and a great barn. There dwelt one of the lords of the Bluegrass
land, and again Chad looked to the school-master and, this time, the
school-master smiled and nodded as though to say:
"We're getting close now, Chad." So Chad rose to his feet thrilled, and
watched the scene until the hills shut it off again. One more night and one
more dawn, and, before the sun rose, the hills had grown smaller and smaller
and the glimpses between them more frequent and, at last, far down the river,
Chad saw a column of smoke and all the men on the raft took off their hats and
shouted. The end of the trip was near, for that black column meant the
capital!
Chad trembled on his feet and his heart rose into his throat, while Caleb
Hazel seemed hardly less moved. His hat was off and he stood motionless, with
his face uplifted, and his grave eyes fastened on that dark column as though
it rose from the pillar of fire that was leading him to some promised land.
As they rounded the next curve, some monster swept out of the low hills on the
right, with a shriek that startled the boy almost into terror and, with a
mighty puffing and rumbling, shot out of sight again. The school-master
shouted to Chad, and the Turner brothers grinned at him delightedly:
"Steam-cars!" they cried, and Chad nodded back gravely, trying to hold in his
wonder.
Sweeping around the next curve, another monster hove in sight with the same
puffing and a long "h-o-o-ot!" A monster on the river and moving up stream
steadily, with no oar and no man in sight, and the Turners and the
school-master shouted again. Chad's eyes grew big with wonder and he ran
forward to see the rickety little steamboat approach and, with wide eyes,
devoured it, as it wheezed and labored up-stream past them--watched the
thundering stern-wheel threshing the water into a wake of foam far behind it
and flashing its blades, water-dripping in the sun--watched it till it puffed
and wheezed and labored on out of sight. Great Heavens! to think that
he--Chad--was seeing all that!
About the next bend, more but thinner columns of smoke were visible. Soon the
very hills over the capital could be seen, with little green wheat-fields
dotting them and, as the raft drew a little closer, Chad could see houses on
the hills--more strange houses of wood and stone, and porches, and queer
towers on them from which glistened shining points.
"What's them?" he asked.
"Lightnin'-rods," said Tom, and Chad understood, for the school-master had
told him about them back in the mountains. Was there anything that Caleb Hazel
had not told him? The haze over the town was now visible, and soon they swept
past tall chimneys puffing out smoke, great warehouses covered on the outside
with weather-brown tin, and, straight ahead--Heavens, what a bridge!--arching
clear over the river and covered like a house, from which people were looking
down on them as they swept under. There were the houses, in two rows on the
streets, jammed up against each other and without any yards. And people! Where
had so many people come from? Close to the river and beyond the bridge was
another great mansion, with tall pillars, about it was a green yard, as smooth
as a floor, and negroes and children were standing on the outskirting stone
wall and looking down at them as they floated by. And another great house
still, and a big garden with little paths running through it and more patches
of that strange green grass. Was that bluegrass? It was, but it didn't look
blue and it didn't look like any other grass Chad had ever seen. Below this
bridge was another bridge, but not so high, and, while Chad looked, another
black monster on wheels went crashing over it.
Tom and the school-master were working the raft slowly to the shore now, and,
a little farther down, Chad could see more rafts tied up--rafts, rafts,
nothing but rafts on the river, everywhere! Up the bank a mighty buzzing was
going on, amid a cloud of dust, and little cars with logs on them were
shooting about amid the gleamings of many saws, and, now and then, a log would
leap from the river and start up toward that dust-cloud with two glistening
iron teeth sunk in one end and a long iron chain stretching up along a groove
built of boards--and Heaven only knew what was pulling it up. On the bank was
a stout, jolly-looking man, whose red, kind face looked familiar to Chad, as
he ran down shouting a welcome to the Squire. Then the raft slipped along
another raft, Tom sprang aboard it with the grape-vine cable, and the
school-master leaped aboard with another cable from the stern.
"Why, boy," cried the stout man. "Where's yo' dog?" Then Chad recognized him,
for he was none other than the cattle-dealer who had given him Jack.
"I left him at home."
"Is he all right?"
"Yes--I reckon."
"Then I'd like to have him back again."
Chad smiled and shook his head.
"Not much."
"Well, he's the best sheep-dog on earth."
The raft slowed up, creaking--slower--straining and creaking, and stopped. The
trip was over, and the Squire had made his "record," for the red-faced man
whistled incredulously when the old man told him what day he had left Kingdom
Come.
An hour later the big Dillon twins hove in sight, just as the Turner party was
climbing the sawdust hill into the town, where Dolph and Rube were for taking
the middle of the street like other mountaineers, who were marching thus ahead
of them, single file, but Tom and the school-master laughed at them and drew
them over to the sidewalk. Bricks and stones laid down for people to walk
on--how wonderful. And all the houses were of brick or were
weather-boarded--all built together wall against wall. And the stores with the
big glass windows all filled with wonderful things! Then a pair of swinging
green shutters through which, while Chad and the school-master waited outside,
Tom insisted on taking Dolph and Rube and giving them their first drink of
Bluegrass whiskey--red liquor, as the hill-men call it. A little farther on,
they all stopped still on a corner of the street, while the school-master
pointed out to Chad and Dolph and Rube the Capitol--a mighty structure of
massive stone, with majestic stone columns, where people went to the
Legislature. How they looked with wondering eyes at the great flag floating
lazily over it, and at the wonderful fountain tossing water in the air, and
with the water three white balls which leaped and danced in the jet of shining
spray and never flew away from it. How did they stay there? The school-master
laughed--Chad had asked him a question at last that he couldn't answer. And
the tall spiked iron fence that ran all the way around the yard, which was
full of trees--how wonderful that was, too! As they stood looking, law-makers
and visitors poured out through the doors--a brave array--some of them in
tight trousers, high hats, and blue coats with brass buttons, and, as they
passed, Caleb Hazel reverently whispered the names of those he
knew--distinguished lawyers, statesmen, and Mexican veterans: witty Tom
Marshall; Roger Hanson, bulky, brilliant; stately Preston, eagle-eyed Buckner,
and Breckenridge, the magnificent, forensic in bearing. Chad was thrilled.
A little farther on, they turned to the left, and the school-master pointed
out the Governor's mansion, and there, close by, was a high gray wall--a wall
as high as a house, with a wooden box taller than a man on each corner, and,
inside, another big gray building in which, visible above the walls, were
grated windows--the penitentiary! Every mountaineer has heard that word, and
another--the Legislator.
Chad shivered as he looked, for he could recall that sometimes down in the
mountains a man would disappear for years and turn up again at home, whitened
by confinement; and, during his absence, when anyone asked about him, the
answer was penitentiary. He wondered what those boxes on the walls were for,
and he was about to ask, when a guard stepped from one of them with a musket
and started to patrol the wall, and he had no need to ask. Tom wanted to go up
on the hill and look at the Armory and the graveyard, but the school-master
said they did not have time, and, on the moment, the air was startled with
whistles far and near--six o'clock! At once Caleb Hazel led the way to supper
in the boarding-house, where a kind-faced old lady spoke to Chad in a motherly
way, and where the boy saw his first hot biscuit and was almost afraid to eat
anything at the table for fear he might do something wrong. For the first time
in his life, too, he slept on a mattress without any feather-bed, and Chad lay
wondering, but unsatisfied still. Not yet had he been out of sight of the
hills, but the master had told him that they would see the Bluegrass next day,
when they were to start back to the mountains by train as far as Lexington.
And Chad went to sleep, dreaming his old dream.
CHAPTER 6
LOST AT THE CAPITAL
It had been arranged by the school-master that they should all meet at the
railway station to go home, next day at noon, and, as the Turner boys had to
help the Squire with the logs at the river, and the school-master had to
attend to some business of his own, Chad roamed all morning around the town.
So engrossed was he with the people and the sights and sounds of the little
village that he came to himself with a start and trotted back to the
boarding-house for fear that he might not be able to find the station alone.
The old lady was standing in the sunshine at the gate.
Chad panted--"Where's--?"
"They're gone."
"Gone!" echoed Chad, with a sinking heart.
"Yes, they've been gone--" But Chad did not wait to listen; he whirled into
the hall-way, caught up his rifle, and, forgetting his injured foot, fled at
full speed down the street. He turned the corner, but could not see the
station, and he ran on about another corner and still another, and, just when
he was about to burst into tears, he saw the low roof that he was looking for,
and hot, panting, and tired, he rushed to it, hardly able to speak.
"Has that enJINE gone?" he asked breathlessly. The man who was whirling trunks
on their corners into the baggage-room did not answer. Chad's eyes flashed and
he caught the man by the coat-tail.
"Has that enJINE gone?" he cried.
The man looked over his shoulder.
"Leggo my coat, you little devil. Yes, that enJINE'S gone," he added,
mimicking. Then he saw the boy's unhappy face and he dropped the trunk and
turned to him.
"What's the matter?" he asked, kindly.
Chad had turned away with a sob.
"They've lef' me--they've lef' me," he said, and then, controlling himself:
"Is thar another goin'?"
"Not till to-morrow mornin'."
Another sob came, and Chad turned away--he did not want anybody to see him
cry. And this was no time for crying, for Chad's prayer back at the grave
under the poplar flashed suddenly back to him.
"I got to ack like a man now." And, sobered at once, he walked on up the
hill--thinking. He could not know that the school-master was back in the town,
looking for him. If he waited until the next morning, the Turners would
probably have gone on; whereas, if he started out now on foot, and walked all
night, he might catch them before they left Lexington next morning. And if he
missed the Squire and the Turner boys, he could certainly find the
school-master there. And if not, he could go on to the mountains alone. Or he
might stay in the "settlemints"--what had he come for? He might--he would--oh,
he'd get along somehow, he said to himself, wagging his head--he always had
and he always would. He could always go back to the mountains. If he only had
Jack--if he only had Jack! Nothing would make any difference then, and he
would never be lonely, if he only had Jack. But, cheered with his
determination, he rubbed the tears from his eyes with his coat-sleeve and
climbed the long hill. There was the Armory, which, years later, was to harbor
Union troops in the great war, and beyond it was the little city of the dead
that sits on top of the hill far above the shining river. At the great iron
gates he stopped a moment, peering through. He saw a wilderness of white slabs
and, not until he made his way across the thick green turf and spelled out the
names carved on them, could he make out what they were for. How he wondered
when he saw the innumerable green mounds, for he hardly knew there were as
many people in the world living as he saw there must be in that place, dead.
But he had no time to spare and he turned quickly back to the
pike--saddened--for his heart went back, as his faithful heart was always
doing, to the lonely graves under the big poplar back in the mountains.
When he reached the top of the slope, he saw a rolling country of low hills
stretching out before him, greening with spring; with far stretches of thick
grass and many woodlands under a long, low sky, and he wondered if this was
the Bluegrass. But he "reckoned" not--not yet. And yet he looked in wonder at
the green slopes, and the woods, and the flashing creek, and nowhere in front
of him--wonder of all--could he see a mountain. It was as Caleb Hazel had told
him, only Chad was not looking for any such mysterious joy as thrilled his
sensitive soul. There had been a light sprinkle of snow--such a fall as may
come even in early April--but the noon sun had let the wheat-fields and the
pastures blossom through it, and had swept it from the gray moist pike until
now there were patches of white only in gully and along north hill-sides under
little groups of pines and in the woods, where the sunlight could not reach;
and Chad trudged sturdily on in spite of his heavy rifle and his lame foot,
keenly alive to the new sights and sounds and smells of the new world--on
until the shadows lengthened and the air chilled again; on, until the sun
began to sink close to the far-away haze of the horizon. Never had the horizon
looked so far away. His foot began to hurt, and on the top of a hill he had to
stop and sit down for a while in the road, the pain was so keen. The sun was
setting now in a glory of gold, rose, pink, and crimson over him, the still
clouds caught the divine light which swept swiftly through the heavens until
the little pink clouds over the east, too, turned golden pink and the whole
heavens were suffused with green and gold. In the west, cloud was piled on
cloud like vast cathedrals that must have been built for worship on the way
straight to the very throne of God. And Chad sat thrilled, as he had been at
the sunrise on the mountains the morning after he ran away. There was no
storm, but the same loneliness came to him now and he wondered what he should
do. He could not get much farther that night--his foot hurt too badly. He
looked up--the clouds had turned to ashes and the air was growing chill--and
he got to his feet and started on. At the bottom of the hill and down a little
creek he saw a light and he turned toward it. The house was small, and he
could hear the crying of a child inside and could see a tall man cutting wood,
so he stopped at the bars and shouted
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