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_ CHAPTER VII
The next morning James was awakened by loud voices coming from the
vicinity of the stable. He had not slept very well, and now at dawn felt
drowsy, but the voices would not let him sleep. He rose, dressed, and
went out in the stable-yard. There he found Doctor Gordon, Aaron, and a
strange man, small, and red-haired, and thin-faced, with shifty eyes,
holding by the bridle a fine black horse.
"Don't want to buy a horse with a bridle on," Doctor Gordon was saying
as James appeared.
"Do you think I'm the man to bear insults?" inquired the little
red-haired man with fierceness.
"Insult nothing. It is business," said Gordon.
"That's so," Aaron said, chewing and eyeing the black horse and the
red-haired man thoughtfully.
"Well," said the little red-haired man with an air at once of injured
innocence and ferocity, "if you want to know why I object to selling
this horse without a bridle, come here, and I'll show you." Gordon and
Aaron and James approached. The red-haired man slipped the bridle, and
underneath it appeared a small sore. "There, that's the reason, and I'll
tell you the truth," said the man defiantly. "Here I am trying to sell
this darned critter; paid a cool hundred for him, and everybody says
jest as you do, won't buy him with the bridle on. Then I takes off the
bridle, and they sees this little bile, and there's an end to it. I
suppose it's the same with you. Well, good day, gentlemen. You're losin'
a darned good trade, but it ain't my fault. Here's an animal I paid a
cool hundred for, and I'm offering him for ninety. I'm ten dollars out,
besides my time."
"Let me see that sore again," said Gordon. He slipped the bridle and
examined the place carefully. Then he looked hard at the horse, which
stood with great docility, although he held his head proudly. He was a
fine beast, glossy black in color, and had a magnificent tail.
"Make it eighty-five," said Gordon.
"Couldn't think of it."
"I don't know as I want the horse anyway," said Gordon.
"I'll call it eighty-seven and a half," said the little red-haired man.
Gordon stood still for a moment. Then he pulled out his wallet.
"Eighty-six and call it square," he said.
"All right," said the red-haired man. "It's a-givin' of him away, but
I'm so darned tired of trampin' the country with him, that I'll call it
eighty-six, and it's the biggest bargain you ever got in your life in
the way of horse flesh. I wouldn't let him go at that figure, but my
wife's sick, and I want to get home."
The red-haired man carefully counted over the roll of bank-notes which
Doctor Gordon gave him, although it seemed to James that he used some
haste. He also thought that he was evidently anxious to be gone. He
refused Gordon's offer of breakfast, saying that he had already had some
at the hotel. Then he was gone, walking with uncommon speed for such a
small man. Aaron, James, and Doctor Gordon stood contemplating the new
purchase. James patted him. "He looks like a fine animal," he remarked.
Aaron shifted his quid, and said with emphasis, "Want me to hitch up and
bring that little red-haired cuss back?"
"Why, what for?" asked Doctor Gordon. "I guess I have made a good trade,
Aaron."
"You mark my words, there's somethin' out," said Aaron dogmatically.
"I guess you're wrong this time," said Doctor Gordon, laughing. "Come,
Elliot, it is time for breakfast, and we have to drive to Wardville
afterward for that fever case."
James followed Gordon into the dining-room. Clemency said good morning
almost rudely, then she hid her face behind the coffee-urn. Gordon
glanced at her and smiled tenderly, but the girl did not see it. James
never looked her way at all. She turned the coffee with apparent
concentration. She did not dare look at either of the two men. She had
never felt so disturbedly happy and so shy. She had not slept all night,
she was so agitated with happiness, but this morning she showed no
traces of sleeplessness. There was an unwonted color on her little fair
face, and her blue eyes were like jewels under her drooping lids.
They were nearly through breakfast when the door which led into the
kitchen was abruptly thrown open, and Aaron stood there. In his hand he
flourished dramatically a great streaming mass of black. "Told you so,"
he observed with a certain triumph. The others stared at him.
"What on earth is that?" asked Gordon.
"That new horse's tail; it comes off," replied Aaron with brevity. Then
he chewed.
"Comes off?"
Aaron nodded, still chewing.
Gordon rose from the table saying something under his breath.
"That ain't all," said Aaron, still with an air of sly triumph.
"What else, for Heaven's sake?" cried Gordon.
"Well, he cribs," replied Aaron laconically. Then he chewed.
"That was why he didn't want to take the bridle off?"
Aaron nodded.
Gordon stood staring for a second, then he burst into a peal of
laughter. "Bless me if I ever got so regularly done," said he. "Say,
Aaron, that was a smart chap. He has talent, he has."
"Aren't you going to try to find him?" asked James.
"Well, we'll keep a lookout on the way to Wardville," said Gordon; "and,
Aaron, you may as well put the chestnut in the old buggy and drive
Stanbridge way, and see if you can get sight of him."
"He's had a half-hour's start," said Aaron. "You might track a fox, but
you can't him."
"I guess you are about right," said Gordon, "but we'll do all we can.
However, I think I'll try to get even with Sam Tucker. It's a good
chance. I'll drive the new horse to Wardville. Aaron, you just tie that
tail on again, and fasten it up so as to keep it out of the mud."
Aaron grinned. "Goin' to get even for that white horse?"
"I'm going to try it."
Gordon was all interest. James regarded him as he had done so many times
before with wonder. That such a man should have such powers of
assimilation astounded him. He was actually as amused and interested in
being done, as he called it, and in trying in his turn to wipe off some
old score, as any countryman. He seemed, to the young man, to have
little burrows like some desperate animal, into which he could dive, and
be completely away from his enemies, and even from himself, when he
chose.
He hurriedly drank the remainder of his coffee, and was in his office
getting his medicine-case ready. James lingered, in the hopes of
getting a word and a kiss from Clemency. But the child, the moment her
uncle went out, fled. It was odd. She wanted to stay and have a minute
with James alone more than she had ever wanted anything, but it was for
just that very reason that she ran away.
James felt hurt. At that time, the mind of a girl, and its shy workings,
were entirely beyond his comprehension. He saw no earthly reason why
Clemency should have avoided him. He followed Gordon with rather a
downcast face into the office, and begun assisting him with his
medicines. Gordon himself was too full of interest in the horse trade to
remark anything. At times he chuckled to himself. Now and then he would
burst out anew in a great peal of laughter. "Hang it all! I don't like
to be done any better than any other man, but that little red-haired
scamp was clever and no mistake," he said, "showing me that little sore.
I believe he had sandpapered the poor beast on purpose. He took me in as
neatly as I ever saw anything done in my life. Well, Elliot, you wait
and see me get even with Sam Tucker. I have been waiting my chance.
About two years ago he worked me, and not half as cleverly as this
either. He made me feel that I was a fool. The red-haired one needed the
devil himself to get round him, and see through his little game. Sam
Tucker sold me, or rather traded with me a veritable fiend of a horse
for an old mare. The mare was old, but she had a lot of go in her, and
was sound, and the other, well, Sam had bought him for a song, because
nobody would drive him, and he had killed two men. He was a white horse
with as wicked an eye as you ever saw, and ears always cocked for
mischief, like the arch fiend's horns. Well, Sam, he made some kind of a
dye, and he actually dyed that animal a beautiful chestnut, and traded
him for my old mare. I even paid a little to boot. Well, next morning I
sent Aaron down to the store in a soaking rain, and the horse bolted at
a white rock beside the road, and the buggy was knocked into kindling
wood. Aaron wasn't hurt. He always comes out right side up. But when he
came leading that snorting, dancing beast home, the chestnut dye was
pretty well off, and I knew him in a minute. Well, he was shot, and I
was my old mare and some money out. I wasn't going to have men's lives
on my conscience. But this is another matter. Now I've got my chance to
get even, and I'm going to get my old mare back."
Presently the two men were out on the road driving the black horse. He
went well enough, and seemed afraid of nothing. "There's not much the
matter with this animal except the tail and the cribbing, I guess," said
the doctor. "As for the tail, that is simply a question of ornament and
taste. The cribbing is more serious, of course, but I guess Sam Tucker
won't be in any danger of his life." They had not gone far before the
doctor drew up before a farmhouse on the left. A man with a serious
face, thin and wiry, was coming around the house with a wheelbarrowful
of potatoes. "Hullo, Sam!" called Doctor Gordon. The man left his barrow
and came alongside. James could see that he had a keen eye upon the
horse. "Fine morning," said the doctor.
Sam Tucker gave a grunt by way of assent. He was niggardly with speech.
"Have you got any more of those Baldwin apples to sell?" asked Doctor
Gordon, to James's intense surprise.
Sam Tucker looked reflectively at the doctor for a full minute, then
gave utterance to a monosyllable. "Bar'l."
"So you've got a barrel to sell," said Gordon.
Sam nodded.
"Well, I'll send my man over for them. They are mighty fine apples, and
Emma said yesterday that we were about out. I suppose they are the same
price."
Sam nodded.
"Seems as if you might take off a little, it is so late, and you might
have them spoiling on your hands," said Gordon, and James began to
wonder if they had come to drive a sharp bargain on apples instead of
horses.
Sam shook his head emphatically. "Same," he said.
"Well, I suppose I've got to pay it if you ask it," said Gordon. "I
can't buy any such apples elsewhere. You've got it your way. I'll send
the money over by Aaron." Doctor Gordon gathered up the reins, but Sam
Tucker seemed to experience a sudden convulsion all over his lank body.
"Horse," he said.
Doctor Gordon drove on a yard, but Sam, running alongside, he stopped.
"Yes," he said placidly, "horse. What do you think of him?"
Sam said nothing. He looked at the horse.
"He's the biggest bargain I ever got," said Gordon. "I am going to hang
on to him. Once in a while there is an honest deal in horses. I am not
bringing up anything, Sam. I believe in letting bygones be bygones,
although you did risk my life and my man's. But this time I am all
right." Gordon gathered up the reins again, and again Sam Tucker stopped
him. James barely saw the man's mouth move. He could not hear that he
said anything, but a peculiar glow of eager greed lit up his long face,
and Gordon seemed to understand him perfectly. "You can take your oath
not," he said brusquely. "What do you take me for? You have stuck me
once, and now you think you are going to do it again. You can bet your
life you are not." Again he gathered up the reins. Sam Tucker's face
gleamed like a coal. James saw for the first time in its entirety the
trading instinct rampant. Again Gordon seemed to understand what had
apparently not been spoken. "No, Sam Tucker," he declared almost
brutally, "I will not trade back for that old mare you cheated me out
of, not if you were to give me your whole farm to boot. I know that old
mare. I wasn't the only one that got stuck. She's got the heaves. I know
her. No, sir, you don't do me again. I've got a good horse this time,
and I mean to hang on to him."
Again Gordon attempted to drive on, and once more Sam stopped him. James
felt at last fairly dizzy, when he heard the farmer almost beg Gordon to
trade horses, offer him twenty-five dollars to boot, and the apples. He
sat in the buggy watching while the mare was led out of the stable, the
black horse was taken out of the traces, and the bridle was left on
without a remonstrance on Sam's part, and exchanged for a much newer
one, while twenty-five dollars in dirty bank-notes were carefully
counted out by Sam, and then Gordon jumped into the buggy and drove off.
He was quivering with suppressed mirth. "The biter is bitten this time,"
he said as soon as he was out of hearing of Sam Tucker. Then he made an
exclamation of dismay.
"What's the matter?" asked James.
"Well, I have left my whip. I must risk it and go back. I paid a lot for
that whip."
Gordon turned and drove back at a sharp trot. When they came alongside
the farm fence James saw the whip lying on the ground, and jumped out to
get it. He was back in the buggy, and they were just proceeding on
their way, when there was a shout, and Sam Tucker came rushing around
the house, and held the horse's tail as Aaron had done in the morning.
"Comes off," he gasped.
"Of course," said the doctor coolly. "I didn't say it didn't. It's for
convenience in muddy weather."
"Cribs," gasped Sam Tucker.
"Yes, a little," said Gordon. "Keep him away from hitching-posts. You
didn't say you wanted a horse to hitch. He never cribs when he's driven.
Good-day, Sam."
Gordon and James were off again. Gordon was doubled up with merriment,
in which James joined. "I'm glad to get behind old Fanny once more,"
said Gordon. "She's worth two of that other animal! Clemency will be
glad to see her again. She felt badly when I traded her. In fact, I
wouldn't have done it if I had known how much the child cared for the
mare. She used to drive her a lot and pet her. I think it will be
perfectly safe for you to take Clemency out driving when there isn't a
moon. Fanny is pretty fast when she is touched with the whip, and,
though she's gentle, she hasn't much use for strangers. I don't think
she would stand a stranger at her head. I think you may go out to-night,
if you like. Poor Clemency needs the air. We'll use the team this
afternoon, and Fanny will be fresh by evening."
James colored. He remembered how Clemency had avoided him that morning.
"Perchance she won't care to go," he said.
"Of course, she will," said Gordon. "She will go, and I want her to, but
you must always bear in mind what I told you last night, and--" he
hesitated. "Don't do your utmost to make the poor little thing think you
are the moon and sun and stars in case you should change your mind," he
finished.
"I shall never change my mind," James said hotly.
"You will be justified if you do," Gordon said gravely. "Perhaps you
will not. But you are old enough, and ought to have self-command enough
to keep your head, and shield the poor child against possible
contingencies. You have not known each other very long. It is not
possible that she would die of it now, nor you. If you can only keep
your head, and meander along the path of love instead of plunging into
bottomless depths, it will be better for both of you. I know what I am
talking about. I am old enough to be your father. Go slow, for God's
sake, if you care about the girl."
"She is the whole world to me," said James.
"Then, go slow! It will be better for her if you are not the whole world
to her, until you know what a day may bring forth."
"I don't care what a day brings forth."
"You are tempting the gods?" said Gordon. "Elliot, you don't know what
you are talking about. I am not treating you fairly not to tell you the
whole story, but I don't see my way clear. You must bear in mind what I
say. I did not think of any such complication when you came here. I was
a fool not to. I know what young people are, and Clemency is a darling,
and you have your good points. The amount of it is, if I don't get stuck
by Sam Tucker in a horse trade, Fate sticks me in something bigger. I
don't see the inevitable, I suppose, because I am so close to it that it
is like facing the wall of a precipice all the time. We have to stop
here. The woman's daughter is coming down with a fever, which will not
kill her, and she will have it to brag of all her life. She will date
all earthly events from this fever. Whoa, Fanny!"
That evening James and Clemency went for a drive. It was a clear night,
but dark, save for the stars. Clemency had a thick veil over her face,
which seemed entirely unnecessary. Directly as they started, she made a
little involuntary nestling motion toward the young man at her side. It
was as innocent as the nestling of a baby. James put his arm around her.
He thought with indignation of Doctor Gordon's warning, as if anything
in the world could cause him to change his mind about this dear child
who loved him. "You darling!" he whispered. "So you have not thought
better of it."
"What do you mean?" Clemency whispered back.
"Why, dear, you have fairly run away from me all day long."
"I was afraid," Clemency whispered, then she put her head against his
shoulder, and laughed a delicious little laugh. "I never was in love
before, and I don't know how to act," said she.
"Put up your veil," said James.
"Why?"
"I want a kiss."
Clemency put up her veil obediently and kissed him like a child. Then
there was a sudden flash of light from a lantern, and a dark form was
at the mare's head. But she was true to her master's opinion of her. She
gave a savage duck at the man and started violently, so that James was
forced to release Clemency and devote his entire attention to driving.
Clemency shrank close to him, shivering like one in a chill. "He saw
me," she gasped. "It was that same man, and this time he saw me." _
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