THEY was fetching a very nice-looking old gentleman
along, and a nice-looking younger one, with his right arm
in a sling. And, my souls, how the people yelled and
laughed, and kept it up. But I didn't see no joke about
it, and I judged it would strain the duke and the king
some to see any. I reckoned they'd turn pale. But no,
nary a pale did THEY turn. The duke he never let on he
suspicioned what was up, but just went a goo-gooing
around, happy and satisfied, like a jug that's googling
out buttermilk; and as for the king, he just gazed and
gazed down sorrowful on them new-comers like it give him
the stomach-ache in his very heart to think there could
be such frauds and rascals in the world. Oh, he done it
admirable. Lots of the principal people gethered around
the king, to let him see they was on his side. That old
gentleman that had just come looked all puzzled to death.
Pretty soon he begun to speak, and I see straight off he
pronounced LIKE an Englishman — not the king's way,
though the king's WAS pretty good for an imitation. I
can't give the old gent's words, nor I can't imitate him;
but he turned around to the crowd, and says, about like
this:
"This is a surprise to me which I wasn't looking
for; and I'll acknowledge, candid and frank, I ain't very
well fixed to meet it and answer it; for my brother and
me has had misfortunes; he's broke his arm, and our
baggage got put off at a town above here last night in
the night by a mistake. I am Peter Wilks' brother Harvey,
and this is his brother William, which can't hear nor
speak — and can't even make signs to amount to much,
now't he's only got one hand to work them with. We are
who we say we are; and in a day or two, when I get the
baggage, I can prove it. But up till then I won't say
nothing more, but go to the hotel and wait."
So him and the new dummy started off; and the king he
laughs, and blethers out:
"Broke his arm — VERY likely, AIN'T it? — and
very convenient, too, for a fraud that's got to make
signs, and ain't learnt how. Lost their baggage! That's
MIGHTY good! — and mighty ingenious — under the
CIRCUMSTANCES!
So he laughed again; and so did everybody else, except
three or four, or maybe half a dozen. One of these was
that doctor; another one was a sharplooking gentleman,
with a carpet-bag of the oldfashioned kind made out of
carpet-stuff, that had just come off of the steamboat and
was talking to him in a low voice, and glancing towards
the king now and then and nodding their heads — it was
Levi Bell, the lawyer that was gone up to Louisville; and
another one was a big rough husky that come along and
listened to all the old gentleman said, and was listening
to the king now. And when the king got done this husky up
and says:
"Say, looky here; if you are Harvey Wilks, when'd
you come to this town?"
"The day before the funeral, friend," says
the king.
"But what time o' day?"
"In the evenin' — 'bout an hour er two before
sundown."
"HOW'D you come?"
"I come down on the Susan Powell from Cincinnati."
"Well, then, how'd you come to be up at the Pint
in the MORNIN' — in a canoe?"
"I warn't up at the Pint in the mornin'."
"It's a lie."
Several of them jumped for him and begged him not to
talk that way to an old man and a preacher.
"Preacher be hanged, he's a fraud and a liar. He
was up at the Pint that mornin'. I live up there, don't
I? Well, I was up there, and he was up there. I see him
there. He come in a canoe, along with Tim Collins and a
boy."
The doctor he up and says:
"Would you know the boy again if you was to see
him, Hines?"
"I reckon I would, but I don't know. Why, yonder
he is, now. I know him perfectly easy."
It was me he pointed at. The doctor says:
"Neighbors, I don't know whether the new couple
is frauds or not; but if THESE two ain't frauds, I am an
idiot, that's all. I think it's our duty to see that they
don't get away from here till we've looked into this
thing. Come along, Hines; come along, the rest of you.
We'll take these fellows to the tavern and affront them
with t'other couple, and I reckon we'll find out
SOMETHING before we get through."
It was nuts for the crowd, though maybe not for the
king's friends; so we all started. It was about sundown.
The doctor he led me along by the hand, and was plenty
kind enough, but he never let go my hand.
We all got in a big room in the hotel, and lit up some
candles, and fetched in the new couple. First, the doctor
says:
"I don't wish to be too hard on these two men,
but I think they're frauds, and they may have complices
that we don't know nothing about. If they have, won't the
complices get away with that bag of gold Peter Wilks
left? It ain't unlikely. If these men ain't frauds, they
won't object to sending for that money and letting us
keep it till they prove they're all right — ain't that
so?"
Everybody agreed to that. So I judged they had our
gang in a pretty tight place right at the outstart. But
the king he only looked sorrowful, and says:
"Gentlemen, I wish the money was there, for I
ain't got no disposition to throw anything in the way of
a fair, open, out-and-out investigation o' this misable
business; but, alas, the money ain't there; you k'n send
and see, if you want to."
"Where is it, then?"
"Well, when my niece give it to me to keep for
her I took and hid it inside o' the straw tick o' my bed,
not wishin' to bank it for the few days we'd be here, and
considerin' the bed a safe place, we not bein' used to
niggers, and suppos'n' 'em honest, like servants in
England. The niggers stole it the very next mornin' after
I had went down stairs; and when I sold 'em I hadn't
missed the money yit, so they got clean away with it. My
servant here k'n tell you 'bout it, gentlemen."
The doctor and several said "Shucks!" and I
see nobody didn't altogether believe him. One man asked
me if I see the niggers steal it. I said no, but I see
them sneaking out of the room and hustling away, and I
never thought nothing, only I reckoned they was afraid
they had waked up my master and was trying to get away
before he made trouble with them. That was all they asked
me. Then the doctor whirls on me and says:
"Are YOU English, too?"
I says yes; and him and some others laughed, and said,
"Stuff!"
Well, then they sailed in on the general
investigation, and there we had it, up and down, hour in,
hour out, and nobody never said a word about supper, nor
ever seemed to think about it — and so they kept it up,
and kept it up; and it WAS the worst mixed-up thing you
ever see. They made the king tell his yarn, and they made
the old gentleman tell his'n; and anybody but a lot of
prejudiced chuckleheads would a SEEN that the old
gentleman was spinning truth and t'other one lies. And by
and by they had me up to tell what I knowed. The king he
give me a left-handed look out of the corner of his eye,
and so I knowed enough to talk on the right side. I begun
to tell about Sheffield, and how we lived there, and all
about the English Wilkses, and so on; but I didn't get
pretty fur till the doctor begun to laugh; and Levi Bell,
the lawyer, says:
"Set down, my boy; I wouldn't strain myself if I
was you. I reckon you ain't used to lying, it don't seem
to come handy; what you want is practice. You do it
pretty awkward."
I didn't care nothing for the compliment, but I was
glad to be let off, anyway.
The doctor he started to say something, and turns and
says:
"If you'd been in town at first, Levi Bell —
" The king broke in and reached out his hand, and
says:
"Why, is this my poor dead brother's old friend
that he's wrote so often about?"
The lawyer and him shook hands, and the lawyer smiled
and looked pleased, and they talked right along awhile,
and then got to one side and talked low; and at last the
lawyer speaks up and says:
"That 'll fix it. I'll take the order and send
it, along with your brother's, and then they'll know it's
all right."
So they got some paper and a pen, and the king he set
down and twisted his head to one side, and chawed his
tongue, and scrawled off something; and then they give
the pen to the duke — and then for the first time the
duke looked sick. But he took the pen and wrote. So then
the lawyer turns to the new old gentleman and says:
"You and your brother please write a line or two
and sign your names."
The old gentleman wrote, but nobody couldn't read it.
The lawyer looked powerful astonished, and says:
"Well, it beats ME — and snaked a lot of old
letters out of his pocket, and examined them, and then
examined the old man's writing, and then THEM again; and
then says: "These old letters is from Harvey Wilks;
and here's THESE two handwritings, and anybody can see
they didn't write them" (the king and the duke
looked sold and foolish, I tell you, to see how the
lawyer had took them in), "and here's THIS old
gentleman's hand writing, and anybody can tell, easy
enough, HE didn't write them — fact is, the scratches he
makes ain't properly WRITING at all. Now, here's some
letters from —"
The new old gentleman says:
"If you please, let me explain. Nobody can read
my hand but my brother there — so he copies for me. It's
HIS hand you've got there, not mine."
"WELL!" says the lawyer, "this IS a
state of things. I've got some of William's letters, too;
so if you'll get him to write a line or so we can com
—"
"He CAN'T write with his left hand," says
the old gentleman. "If he could use his right hand,
you would see that he wrote his own letters and mine too.
Look at both, please — they're by the same hand."
The lawyer done it, and says:
"I believe it's so — and if it ain't so, there's
a heap stronger resemblance than I'd noticed before,
anyway. Well, well, well! I thought we was right on the
track of a slution, but it's gone to grass, partly. But
anyway, one thing is proved — THESE two ain't either of
'em Wilkses" — and he wagged his head towards the
king and the duke.
Well, what do you think? That muleheaded old fool
wouldn't give in THEN! Indeed he wouldn't. Said it warn't
no fair test. Said his brother William was the cussedest
joker in the world, and hadn't tried to write — HE see
William was going to play one of his jokes the minute he
put the pen to paper. And so he warmed up and went
warbling right along till he was actuly beginning to
believe what he was saying HIM- SELF; but pretty soon the
new gentleman broke in, and says:
"I've thought of something. Is there anybody here
that helped to lay out my br — helped to lay out the
late Peter Wilks for burying?"
"Yes," says somebody, "me and Ab Turner
done it. We're both here."
Then the old man turns towards the king, and says:
"Peraps this gentleman can tell me what was
tattooed on his breast?"
Blamed if the king didn't have to brace up mighty
quick, or he'd a squshed down like a bluff bank that the
river has cut under, it took him so sudden; and, mind
you, it was a thing that was calculated to make most
ANYBODY sqush to get fetched such a solid one as that
without any notice, because how was HE going to know what
was tattooed on the man? He whitened a little; he
couldn't help it; and it was mighty still in there, and
everybody bending a little forwards and gazing at him.
Says I to myself, NOW he'll throw up the sponge — there
ain't no more use. Well, did he? A body can't hardly
believe it, but he didn't. I reckon he thought he'd keep
the thing up till he tired them people out, so they'd
thin out, and him and the duke could break loose and get
away. Anyway, he set there, and pretty soon he begun to
smile, and says:
"Mf! It's a VERY tough question, AIN'T it! YES,
sir, I k'n tell you what's tattooed on his breast. It's
jest a small, thin, blue arrow — that's what it is; and
if you don't look clost, you can't see it. NOW what do
you say — hey?"
Well, I never see anything like that old blister for
clean out-and-out cheek.
The new old gentleman turns brisk towards Ab Turner
and his pard, and his eye lights up like he judged he'd
got the king THIS time, and says:
"There — you've heard what he said! Was there
any such mark on Peter Wilks' breast?"
Both of them spoke up and says:
"We didn't see no such mark."
"Good!" says the old gentleman. "Now,
what you DID see on his breast was a small dim P, and a B
(which is an initial he dropped when he was young), and a
W, with dashes between them, so: P — B — W" — and
he marked them that way on a piece of paper. "Come,
ain't that what you saw?"
Both of them spoke up again, and says:
"No, we DIDN'T. We never seen any marks at all."
Well, everybody WAS in a state of mind now, and they
sings out:
"The whole BILIN' of 'm 's frauds! Le's duck 'em!
le's drown 'em! le's ride 'em on a rail!" and
everybody was whooping at once, and there was a rattling
powwow. But the lawyer he jumps on the table and yells,
and says:
"Gentlemen — gentleMEN! Hear me just a word —
just a SINGLE word — if you PLEASE! There's one way yet
— let's go and dig up the corpse and look."
That took them.
"Hooray!" they all shouted, and was starting
right off; but the lawyer and the doctor sung out:
"Hold on, hold on! Collar all these four men and
the boy, and fetch THEM along, too!"
"We'll do it!" they all shouted; "and
if we don't find them marks we'll lynch the whole gang!"
I WAS scared, now, I tell you. But there warn't no
getting away, you know. They gripped us all, and marched
us right along, straight for the graveyard, which was a
mile and a half down the river, and the whole town at our
heels, for we made noise enough, and it was only nine in
the evening.
As we went by our house I wished I hadn't sent Mary
Jane out of town; because now if I could tip her the wink
she'd light out and save me, and blow on our dead-beats.
Well, we swarmed along down the river road, just
carrying on like wildcats; and to make it more scary the
sky was darking up, and the lightning beginning to wink
and flitter, and the wind to shiver amongst the leaves.
This was the most awful trouble and most dangersome I
ever was in; and I was kinder stunned; everything was
going so different from what I had allowed for; stead of
being fixed so I could take my own time if I wanted to,
and see all the fun, and have Mary Jane at my back to
save me and set me free when the close-fit come, here was
nothing in the world betwixt me and sudden death but just
them tattoo-marks. If they didn't find them —
I couldn't bear to think about it; and yet, somehow, I
couldn't think about nothing else. It got darker and
darker, and it was a beautiful time to give the crowd the
slip; but that big husky had me by the wrist — Hines —
and a body might as well try to give Goliar the slip. He
dragged me right along, he was so excited, and I had to
run to keep up.
When they got there they swarmed into the graveyard
and washed over it like an overflow. And when they got to
the grave they found they had about a hundred times as
many shovels as they wanted, but nobody hadn't thought to
fetch a lantern. But they sailed into digging anyway by
the flicker of the lightning, and sent a man to the
nearest house, a half a mile off, to borrow one.
So they dug and dug like everything; and it got awful
dark, and the rain started, and the wind swished and
swushed along, and the lightning come brisker and
brisker, and the thunder boomed; but them people never
took no notice of it, they was so full of this business;
and one minute you could see everything and every face in
that big crowd, and the shovelfuls of dirt sailing up out
of the grave, and the next second the dark wiped it all
out, and you couldn't see nothing at all.
At last they got out the coffin and begun to unscrew
the lid, and then such another crowding and shouldering
and shoving as there was, to scrouge in and get a sight,
you never see; and in the dark, that way, it was awful.
Hines he hurt my wrist dreadful pulling and tugging so,
and I reckon he clean forgot I was in the world, he was
so excited and panting.
All of a sudden the lightning let go a perfect sluice
of white glare, and somebody sings out:
"By the living jingo, here's the bag of gold on
his breast!"
Hines let out a whoop, like everybody else, and
dropped my wrist and give a big surge to bust his way in
and get a look, and the way I lit out and shinned for the
road in the dark there ain't nobody can tell.
I had the road all to myself, and I fairly flew —
leastways, I had it all to myself except the solid dark,
and the now-and-then glares, and the buzzing of the rain,
and the thrashing of the wind, and the splitting of the
thunder; and sure as you are born I did clip it along!
When I struck the town I see there warn't nobody out
in the storm, so I never hunted for no back streets, but
humped it straight through the main one; and when I begun
to get towards our house I aimed my eye and set it. No
light there; the house all dark — which made me feel
sorry and disappointed, I didn't know why. But at last,
just as I was sailing by, FLASH comes the light in Mary
Jane's window! and my heart swelled up sudden, like to
bust; and the same second the house and all was behind me
in the dark, and wasn't ever going to be before me no
more in this world. She WAS the best girl I ever see, and
had the most sand.
The minute I was far enough above the town to see I
could make the towhead, I begun to look sharp for a boat
to borrow, and the first time the lightning showed me one
that wasn't chained I snatched it and shoved. It was a
canoe, and warn't fastened with nothing but a rope. The
towhead was a rattling big distance off, away out there
in the middle of the river, but I didn't lose no time;
and when I struck the raft at last I was so fagged I
would a just laid down to blow and gasp if I could
afforded it. But I didn't. As I sprung aboard I sung out:
"Out with you, Jim, and set her loose! Glory be
to goodness, we're shut of them!"
Jim lit out, and was a-coming for me with both arms
spread, he was so full of joy; but when I glimpsed him in
the lightning my heart shot up in my mouth and I went
overboard backwards; for I forgot he was old King Lear
and a drownded A-rab all in one, and it most scared the
livers and lights out of me. But Jim fished me out, and
was going to hug me and bless me, and so on, he was so
glad I was back and we was shut of the king and the duke,
but I says:
"Not now; have it for breakfast, have it for
breakfast! Cut loose and let her slide!"
So in two seconds away we went a-sliding down the
river, and it DID seem so good to be free again and all
by ourselves on the big river, and nobody to bother us. I
had to skip around a bit, and jump up and crack my heels
a few times — I couldn't help it; but about the third
crack I noticed a sound that I knowed mighty well, and
held my breath and listened and waited; and sure enough,
when the next flash busted out over the water, here they
come! — and just alaying to their oars and making their
skiff hum! It was the king and the duke.
So I wilted right down on to the planks then, and give
up; and it was all I could do to keep from crying.