SHORT STORY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2200, 30 April 1896, Page 42

SHORT STORY.

A DUEIi WITH SNAKEWHIPS. Though the last thing expected, at least by the b.ew manager of the pine-woods sawmill, it had been brewing a comparatively long while, and comes to a head to-day in this manner. " Air you the main head boss 1 " " I'm all the boss there is," replies Merton. " Then you're Yank Marten J " The manager nods. He is a Yankee, and has come naturally to this sobriquet. " Were you wantin' the logs termorrow 1 " " Certainly. I've not enough on hand to Btart tbe mill on Monday."

" We!!, you won't git 'em. Ab Swett got your message, V says you can whistle f er your logs. He'fl a mighty bad man, 'n' would a leetle rather pick a farce with yoa than not."

" I'm not afraid of him, and I must have the logs."

"Xou ain't l'arnt Ab yet, He's the wast man in the county. I thought I'd warn yoa, jess bekase yoa air a Yankee. I'm a Union man as well- as a Plurdy oracker. I voted in '60 Bgln secession, 'n' in '61 I run away to the Union army 'n' fit with Sherman all through the war. So I respecks tbe flag 'n' the Yankees."

"Aud how have you lived since with your neighbours ? " asks Merton, who has learned the uncompromising character of tbe oonnty's loyalty and the lawlessness of its methods on occasion.

" 'Long at fust bit was pretty tough ; bat I stuck it oat. I was much of a man in them days, dried up as I look now. I've 1 made 'em respeck me. You Vme bein' the ! only Union men in Baker, I'm boon' ter etaa' by you." , i " I thank yon very heartily ; but I tract there will not be any question of taking sides. I only want the logs. Oan't you or someone with an eye to business see after them? Most this man Swett rule the log oamp ? "

" Someby must rale, 'n' Ab's the bully of Baker. Id course he kerries the orowd. I don't see no way ter help It, lessen you lick him 'n' set up fer the bally yourself."

" The bally part is not essential. Bat I'll run up to tbe camp this afternoon and find out tbe trouble." *

He resumes the filing of his papers, only to be interrupted again. " Say, Mr Merton, mammy wants a middlin' er meat, V 'lowed you wouldn't mind payin' something on next week's board."

With the left hand Merton takes a dollar from his vest pocket, and makes a memorandum of it with his right. The application is a matter of course; but something out of the common In tbe shadow of the applicant causes him to look up. Is this Raikes, in ' oassimeres and a nobby hat ? What a difference clothes make. Is there a 'grain of truth in the saying that the tailor makes the man? Bat R*ikes, or S >fty, as he is better known, is hardly a man. Merton wonders what is so familiar about him, except the foolish face. Why, they are his own clothes 1 His best suit, that the natives regard with so much curiosity I 'Til be dog!" says Jack Downing, the Union man, looking from one to the other, "ef Softy don't favour you Jn them duds of yourn. I dunno where the favour is exactly, but he'd pass fer you in the dusk first rate." There is no more real resemblance than between any two strangers, one a half idiot, the other a man of brains. Still, both are fair, with fine blonde whiskers, are of similar height and build, and the simpleton oarries himself like a lord. In a half light, and dressed the same, the latter might easily pass for tbe manager. Raikes has jast intelligence enough to grasp the situation.

"Wouldn't it be fan ter fool 'em some night ? They're allers playln' jokes on me," he says, grinning widely. "Play your jokes in some other way," answered Merton, exceedingly annoyed. "How came you to put en my clothes ? " The answer Is made by the simpleton's mother, entering in anxious haste. "He will put on fine clothes when there's any im retch of him, 'a' he does become 'em, that's a sure thing. He ain't hurt 'ttn. jest wearin' 'em down here. You needn't git achy about it. Come home, Biikes, V pull . 'em off. Don't .you see the man's mad?"

"I'm not mad, Mrs Peeler, but it must be ■ hands off ' my belongings in tbe future." Mrs Peeler is thankful to get her son off so easily ; though he is a harmless chap, to whom Merton oould not have been severe. Something crosses the road in front of the open door, throwing a strange sort of shadow at Merton's feet. He knows, without looking up, that it is Loavinie Peeler, riding her steer, with the week's grist across his back, or vegetables from an adjoining farm. Tall and finely formed, like her brother, and with the rich brunette colouring of her mother, ehe ia as handsome and fearless as the fabled Europa.. She has a small, soft saddle, ingeniously contrived from an old quilt. She rides stirrupless, and the reins are the lightest of plonghlines attached to the home. It has ceased to be queer in his eyes — he even admits a certain fitness between the splendid queen of the baokwoods and the lusty voting steer, whose soft, poetic eyes always hold a spark of fire when carrying his mistress. While no aged ox conld have been gentler under her band, he had been known to trample a man or gore a horse unmercifully if one angered her or the other approached too near. It was a wild region, though not a new one ; but Louvinie and her siDgalar stead made a combination as highly respected as the first Oentaur among the Greeks.

The time she ocoopies in Merton's thoughts is as brief as intense, for he needs all his energies to keep the sawmill running at its full capacity. One lagging step, one listless look, one moment's relaxation of the push and vim that was making a success of the business, and the mill bands — the slow, unambitious, yet pugnacious natives— would drop their enforced hold on industry and tal^e to dawdling and quarrelling again. So he locks the desk and goes to the mill, where he seems to be every where at onoe, hußtling the la*y, teaohlng the ignorant, and convincing all that he Is indeed ''boaB"; that the daily BCLOOOIt of lumber must «om«. H« ezen.

goes over the mill while tbe hands eat, dining afterwards with the family in the big, hastily-boarded dining room, where knotholes and cracks give a healthful play of pure air, and even afford glimpses of outside happenings. For inotano?, he can see Raikes enjoying his favourite game of " hot jacket " first with one mill hand and then with another.

Raikes can do one thing well — make snakewhips. He strips tbe strong pliant inner bark of the hickory and weave 3lt into a long flexible lash and handle, indestructible and capable of inflicting incredible punishment on man or beast. Having ma'Je them, he gives them away j bat it is his chief delight to use the smallest in playing " hot jacket " with the mill hands in tho noon hoar and on Sundays. Evoa to " play " with the lightest of theoe whips is to raise welts on the skin and often to draw blood. Consequently, Raikes's back is, from long practice, as tough and oalloused as his horny feet that seldom know a shoe. "I give up I " shouts tbe man who is "playing" with him. "I'm as tough as they make 'em, bat I oan't play hot jacket with a man that's got an alligator back. Ef it was slavery times, 'n Raikes was a nigger, 50 lashes wouldn't raise a red spot on him."

Biikes challenges another and still another It is the only way ha can get even with them. He is the butt of the camp, and praotical jokes, more or less crael in their nature, are played on him every day of his harmless life. This week they have been of a peoaliarly heartless character, raising, even in his constant good nature and feeble intelligence, some fleeting impressions of injury aad resentment.. Taey were the bigger fools who did not fear the fool's turning upon them. So it may be that he applies the snakewbip to-day with particular relish in bis singular game.

Oateide reigns tbe liveliness of Sitarday afternoon, for the farmers and their families arrive in droves to trade at the mill supply store or gossip with their neighbours. Mainly and frankly, the youDg men have come " for fun," which phrase means the same as " painting the town red " does in the city. Farmers' daughters are here, a type now familiar to Merton — beauty spoiled and youth stolen by the practice of snuff dipping or dirt-eating from infancy.

Louvinie stands alone on her side ; face, form, and nature fine, and unspoiled as the first woman G-od made. How has she preserved her high mind and clean soul amid such sarroandings ?

Merton's attention is directed to Rukes, now the centre of an unthinking crowd of rude wits, and ' befog- tormented oat of all reason. His sunny temper is taming to gall, and his usually meaningless gaze acquires a steady sallenness containing more than a gleam of sense.

" I'll kill somebody now— l tell you, I will, ef yon all don't quii;," he says for the twentieth time, and only raising fits of laughter in the oiow<3, to whom lUikes's rage is a refreshing novelty.

" Kill somebody I Why you ain't got the spunk ter kill a chicken for your mammy's dinner." Which is -true enough. He oan only bear to see blood whan drawn in " play."

"Don't you think you've teased him enough?" asked • Merton, In hia quist, convincing way. "Try your hand on one of your own size. Don't torment a poor creature who can't retaliate."

" That's so," say they, in surprise. They had never looked at in that light before.

••• We was jest a-devlia' you, Softy ; we didn't mean no pertickler harm." Tbe crowd dissolves, and Raikes turns to Merton with dog-like devotion in his large blue eyes. For the manager has stood his friend in many waya.

" Why don't you keep away from the bad men ? " asks bis sister, taking his arm. She looks up lovingly, indignantly.

" What makes 'em bad ? " asks Balkes, facing the same problem that ie pnzrfktg all the Solons of the land. " Bat I'll hart 'em. I will. I've gjva 'em warnin'. Tuey can'fc say I wasn't fair."

This unwonted touch of manliness fills up his attractive personality. For the moment he raight really have passed for the brother of the man who regards both companions with siooere admiration. Truth to cay, the three are fair to look upon.

The log train steams in with slow, un willing motioa, as if it has caught the dull, uncouth reluctance of the men who conduct it. Merton's oholer rises as he sees that only the engine and caboose is coming ; not a log to feed the mill with. Ab Sw^tt and a dozen of his roughest followers alight from the caboose, much to the satisfaction of the manager, who can now settle the question on the spot. Even at that distance Louvinie detects an evil glance from Srreth as he takes in the handsome group by the door. She leaves it aud mounts her steer, going away from the crowd ; bdt Swett soon heads her <S. " Howdy, Louvinie 1 " " Howdy, Ab 1 " she replies, attempting to pass.

"No, you don't. You'll shake handf, 'n' you'll stop 'n' talk as long as I say so. I see you stand 'n' talk tor Yaok M-ertoo, 'n' I ain't goin' ter be cat out ; not ef I know it."

" You've got no sore er right ter say that. I ain't nothin' ter you. An' l think, you've got a cheek ter aek me ter shake bands after insultin' me."

11 lusultin' you ? " in genuine bewilderment. Then, looking a brief way back in his memory—"Oh, that I Why, any other girl would a tuck it as a compliment." " Well, I don'fc. So staad aside before Boss hooks you. I'm goin' on." " Dog my cats ef you do tel I git done talkin'," he returns, laying a heavy hand on the restlees steer.

Merton is hurrying to her aid; but Louvinie knows it is unnecessary. She merely leaps from the ox and lets the tw© animals fight it oat, which they do, to the utter discomfiture of the human one. Then the girl remounts and rides away. Merton picks up the bully, and ascertains that, beyond a few bruises, he is uohort, though in the very worst of tempers. It is an unfortnnate moment to broach business, but it muse be done.

" Where aTe the logs, Ab 1 " he inquires In ordinary Dullness manner.

" In the woods, tel I git ready ter send em." »Th«ai abaU «> tack wit* tb* t&gne

skinned feller Uk 9 him— Abll batter baul in his horns."

and fetch them, and appoint another fore- j skinned feller like him— AbH batter baul in man of the camp. That's all there is about his horns." it." , ' "I've got the crowd ter fight, have If "All! Does the Yankee know what he's Wei], I kin So It; that is, et I fight at all* saying 1 As if any man would accept the It don't look like he's oominV position or dared place a log on the train " There aint no coward blood in Ysnlt as long's the bully of Crippled Bear Log Merton. But it's too dark. Put* it off tel Camp forbade it I " mornin 1 ." There 1b a ringing roar at the stupendous " It's only dusk { thereto plenty Hgbfc joke. enough ter fight. I don't sleep this nfghfc " See here, you fellows," says Merton, as tel I pay him for that lick.* soon as he oan be heard, " when the mill " 'JN' here he to. He's got on bis Sunday stopa running, hoflr do you calculate to get clothes ! The dicknnca I He wont wear your grub, to say nothing of clothes, pots, 'em ter meetin' next Sunday." and pans ? Yes, and your whisky and Merton does not speak, but ghata himself tobaoco. You're making a splendid living — silently in the centre. Srrott adranoet witfi more in a month than you did out of your a fearful joy in bis brutish f*c*. farms in six. Are yoa saoh fools as to let " One— two— three." By,h opralsed whfps one man oat it off 1 Are yoa all oowaxtfe, to come down with crashing foroe, and the duel let one senseless bully lord it over you and is on, with the most frightful severity and say whefchor you shall or shall not work 1 malignity from the beginni&g. The light Your foreman there, who isn't oapable of slothing worn in this mild climate is slight attending properly to a pen of hog*, keeps protection, and the terrible whips In two you stirred up against me because I rush the exceptionally powerful bands soon penetrate mill and the bands. Well, it's worth some- to the quivering flesh;* It Is bow that the thing to make a business pay, Isn't it I— to superior mtucle and hardiness of the baefc. ruu a mill as good as any other men ? And woodsman should tell, btrt the othor presses you're all paid aooordingly. The steadier the him closely, raining Mow* en necfc and mill rans the more money yon have. I don't shoulders heavy enough to cofc die life believe you're going to let one man rain the out of him, The spectators bend forward business that you make your living by. I be- to «cc in fcbu gathering dnafc, crowding eacu lleve you're going to send those log* down to- other, though keeping the space clear. It eight, and Btacd no nonsense aboat it." U an even battle, alter all, and they can The audacity of the Yankee's speech in the enjoy It without uneasiness. Enthusiasm very face of the bally has a great deal more rises. ' . influence over the crowd than the plain, sen- "Tbe Yankee can take care of hkself. sible argument. They are almost ready to Ha'e played' hot jacket' at home, I bet tranfer their allegiance. Their hesitation yoo," &c. ' completes- the fury of Ab Swett* who rushes Bvvry blew forcw a *pout of blood or onto on the speaker with bis great ftat in position a solid pifco'of fkah from the body, yet for one of his most savage blows. Dodging the punishment is endeared without a groan, it cleverly, the manager plants a much only the gritting of teeth bearing witness lighter, but more educated, set of knuokles to its sgony. Swett is tbe first to weaker^ behind the ear, and Swett drops like a log. his adversary following him up with a "Bring some water," h'esaysooolly. "He's strength and vindlctl recess as oruel as uttall right, only he won't want to fight any expected.' more to-day." « Holler, Ab j you can't stand up any He speedily brings him back to ths world, longer. You're licked now, ef yon only and is the centre of speeohless admiration. knowed it," cried bis friends. " Well, Ab, are yon whipped, or do yoa " I ain't," he replies, concentrating Ms want some more ? " remaining strength on one last blow, after His only reply is a snarl, whloh is, how- which his weakhflurt succumbs, and he fall*, ever, easy of interpretation. ' a bruised and bleeding corpse. The other " Now, then, fellows, am I to have those also falls from the lust out of Swett's logs to-night ¥ " whip, but quickly rises and staggers against " I reckon you air. You're the bully now, a tree, 'n' what you say goes." - » Ab's dead, sare enoagb," cays one, drop- " I decline the honour," he says, laughing, ping the stiffening form. "If I hadn't anwed " Yoa may put me down as a bully-smasher, it-., I wouldn't a-believed that anybody coold lif you like, bat I'm nothing so mean as a put in sech licks 'cept Softy." bully." "Softy," repeats Downing. Ob«yi»g a " Give him his head, bojc," says Downing, strange suspicion, he drags the victor into " A man that can down Ab Swatfi with one tbe open. It is Riikes, in Merton's blow, lick him with one hand, kin dictate to clothes ! Crippled Bear Log Oamp. We've all seed " What in thunder 'n blue blaws does thislicks, but for a pure, unownded sockdolager mean 1 Where's Ysnk Merton 1 " this beats 'em. We'll go get them logs, Van- "I never told him; I jeafc oome myself, kee or no Yankee." I warned Ab, bat he wouldn't let me alone." ."Any way, so you have them in the pen Then he faints, and they carry him home, Monday morning," says the manager. bleeding all the way. They do not know He goes back to the mill relieved in mind that the last stroke of Swretfc'fl whip out an and with the business on a sound basis at artery, and that his life is ebbing at every last. step. " I give you leave ter git this load," says • • ... « ii W oo ce e tfc> "TTiS'tlJ^^J^l^t: " Yoa'd better b« lookin' out for another S&; I^lffSJZT^ «B boar^houeo^per.MrM^.rmgoin' send him a challenge." JF i eave ")e" )e » oW j ec ?? V Bay ? Mrß Peal<>r » wtw MAn't mn „?„« 14. ». rt v,» m «,hti A v.» *" c &*J a "* r fc » e doable fuoeral. w«sheie?» J give it to him while he Morton start-, and glanoeeatLowmi*. who stangth a stouter m»a lhan Morton might KJSS T ol Zj^lS^, J^S. ml 'n' TWA fujhh ik «nt. tai. cnit mr a *U,** .at «/%k reacn It.

41 It would be murder," says Downing indignantly. ' "You ain't got nothin' to do with that. Ef he accepts the challenge, it's our basinets, 'n' we fight it out ter suit ourselves ; ef not, then you'll kaow he's a coward. G'long, Softy ; d'ye hear ? " "He takes the poor simpleton by tbe lobe of the ear, very nearly pinohing it off. Then he has need, of hie utmost agUity to escape a deadly blow of tho snake whip which B.sikas has just finished. "Who'd a thought it?" "The spallin' book aays that even the worm will turn sometimes," Bays Downing sententiou-ly. " Go on, Soffcy, with tbe challenge. He'll watch out how he devils you sgi»." " • Agin ' won't come," answers lUikes. And some there remember later the look he sends Swett. Aad the engine also stands awaitiag the manager's reply. Wioat is a shipment of logs when a duel is impending 1 It is not long in coming, and is what they expeoted. " He'll be there." " Then I'll stay behind 'n' see fair play," says Downing.

' " What's ter hender us all from stayln' ? We'll run the engine back in the woods, 'n' lay low tel the mill knocks off. The fight won't take 10 minntes. We kiu work ail night ter make up the time." This plan meeting with general approval, It is immediately carried out. The "fighting" ground is a blackjaok thicket, which, if not haunted, certainly ought to be, for here many a man has been done to death " in fair fight," not to mention such insignificant affairs as broken bones, lopped care, and lost fingers. As much blood ■■jbas been spilled on this piece &f ground as on tbe ordinary battlefield. For miles around tho natives come here to settle thair disputes by fiat or weapon. The biggest fi^ht would lose prestige if fought ou'side the sacred grove. Long before 6 o'clock Swett, Downing, and the rest are assembled here, awaiting the event with the usual listlessness. This in changed as the mill whistle blows. Swett rises to his six broad feet, tries his whip, and evan caresses It, for now he is sure of his revenge. He makes his rough oompanions uncomfortable. They have hearts in their shaggy, uncultivated bosoms, and a sense of justice and honour unknown to " bailies."

"I tell yoa, it'll be murder," repeats Downing.

"He shan't be murdered, ef he is a Yankee," says another. "We ain't a set «r murderers, 'n' we aln'fc golu' ter stand by 'n' sea It done. Ef he holds his own, all right. £f be dT«s wtr-« h*'a tuts, ter iJUft-

"l've got the crowd ter fighfc, have If WeU, I kin do it; that is, et I fight at all* It don't look like he's oominV

"There aiat no coward blood in Y&nft Merton. But it's too dark. Put*, it off tel mornin 1 ."

"It's only dusk; thereto plenty ligbfc enough ter fight. I doa*t sleep this nfght tel I pay him for that lick* " 'JX' here he to. He's got on bis Sunday clothes! The dicknncaT He worrt wear 'em ter meetin* next Sttaday."

Merton does not speak, but phnfti himself pilently in the centre. Srrott advanOM wifcfi a fearful joy in bis brutish face.

« One— two— three." TSyfa apralsed whfps come down with crashing fare*, and the duel is on, with the most frightful severity and malignity from the bfglnniKg, The lighfc clothing worn in this mild climate is slight protection, and the terrible whips In two exceptionally powerful bands soon penetrate to the qajvertog flesh. It Is bow that the superior maEcle and hardiness of the bacfrwoodsman should toll, bat the othar presses him closely, raining bhwM en necfc and «hoalder* heavy enough to cofc the life out of him. The spectators bend forward to «cc in fcbu gathering do4k, crowding eacu other, though keeping tbe space clear. It is an even battle, alter all, and they can enjoy It without uneasiness. Enthusiasm rises. ' .

"Tbe Yankee can take care of hiwelf. H«'e played* hot jacket' at home, I bet yoo," &c.

Bvvry blew fore« a «pout of blood or onto a solid pirco'of &enh from the body, yet the punishment is endeared without a groan, only the gritting of teeth bearing witness to its sgony. Swett is tbe first to weafcerr, his adversary following him up with a strength and vindlctlrccew as cruel as unexpected." " Holler, Ab ; yon csn't stand up any longer. You're licked now, ef yon only knowed it," cried bis friends.

"I ain't," he replies, concentrating his remaining strength on one last blow, after which bis weak Efl*rs succumbs, and he fall*, a bruised and bleeding corpse. The other also falls from the lust out of Swett's whip, but quickly rises and staggers against a tree.

" Ab's dead, sare enoagb," cays one, dropping the stiffening form. "If I nada't a-s«ed it, I wouldn't a-believed that anybody coold put in sech licks 'cept Softy."

"Softy," repeats Downing. Obeyieg a strange suspicion, he drags the victor into tbe open. It is Riikes, in Merton's clothes !

" What in thunder 'n blue blazes does thismean 1 Where's Ysnk Merton ? "

"May I come and see you eoan, Mra Peeler? I shall wast to ask you for Louvinie."— New York Times.

— They had been tsb the masquerade, where she had recognised Mm at once. " Wos 16 the loud be&ticg of my heart, my darling, fcbafc told yoa I was here ? " mnruiured he, " Oh, no," th<3 replied ; ** I recognised your long lege."