Watch Yourself Go By

A >> Al. G. Field >> Watch Yourself Go By

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"Allegery or Perregary, I don't kur which. It's jes es bad es burnin'
peepul tu deth tu make 'em Christians. Besides, I don't think much uv
Christian nohow, the book shows he run away, an' left his wife an' two
childrun."

However, it was generally admitted that the panorama had greatly
benefited Alfred. Sammy Johnson was no longer teased by him; Alfred even
assured him that the Presbyterian Church would soon have a bell and he
would be employed to ring it. Ringing a church bell was Sammy's
hallucination. Alfred could even enter Johnny Tunstall's grocery, as he
no longer shouted "Wrang hule" at the old gentleman. Alfred no longer
associated with his former companions, but was more often seen with
Teddy Darwin, John LeClair and other good boys.

The Civil War, the Presidential campaign, the fight between the rival
steamboat lines, had kept old Brownsville pretty well stirred up for
several years, but nothing equaling the excitement caused by the
campaign between Potts and Patton had ever been experienced in the old
town. Torch-light processions were the popular way of arousing
enthusiasm. It was the general belief in those days that the fellow who
carried the biggest blaze in the procession was the fellow of most
importance. Nowadays it's the fellow who buys the oil and sits on the
porch and watches the procession go by.

Cousin Albert was an ardent adherent of the Potts faction. Alfred's
father was just as strong for Patton. The father was well disposed
toward Albert but he was very much disgusted with Albert's fondness for
torch-light processions, particularly when Albert bore a transparency on
which was painted, in crude letters, a motto most offensive to Patton
men.

The father more than once intimated that Alfred was a very dull boy in
some respects. "He can play practical jokes on people who should be
exempt, and jokes in which no one but Alfred could see the humor. But
there's Albert, who has laid himself liable to have any sort of a joke
played upon him, goes Scott free."

Therefore Alfred fancied any joke perpetrated upon Cousin Albert must be
pretty strong or the father would stamp it as inane and without humor.

Handbills advertised there would be a parade of the Potts club and the
route was given. Alfred knew that Cousin Albert would be at the head of
the marchers, bearing a very large transparency, with an offensive motto
painted by his father's competitor, Jeffries.

Alfred procured a piece of duck canvas, water proof, about one yard
square. Repairing to the Bowman's pasture lot where the cows spent the
night near the gate, Alfred, with a scoop shovel, filled the canvas with
a half bushel or more of fertilizer. He carried it to Sammy Steele's old
tan house where he had once carried food to the exiles. An old finishing
table stood under a window from which the sash had long since
disappeared. One standing on the table at the opening was six or seven
feet higher than the narrow street below.

Drums were beating, the procession was coming, the candle torches showed
the parade turning Hogg's corner off Market Street; they were coming
toward the old tan-yard. Alfred stood at the window with the canvas
containing the mass of fertilizer. As the head of the parade came
opposite he could see Cousin Albert outlined against the white-washed
fence on the opposite side of the street. Swinging the package a time or
two to give it momentum, as one does a club, Alfred loosened his hold on
three corners of the canvas. The mess slid out as he had planned it
would. He aimed all of it at Cousin Albert.

Alfred was pretty sure aim generally, but he had not experimented with
the sort of ammunition he was using on this occasion; he was not
familiar with its scattering qualities. Alfred did not have time to
either see or hear how his aim had affected Cousin Albert. There was an
angry confusion of yells and curses extending down the line of march.
Alfred felt sure that something awful had happened.

"Catch him! Hang him!" There was a shuffling of feet in the darkness.
Those at the head of the procession had dropped their torches. Alfred's
joke on Cousin Albert had spread to some twenty others; in fact, all in
line opposite the window were included in the joke.

There was a rush for the old tan-house. Alfred flew. Down the stairs,
over the fence, through the widow Cunningham's, across the street,
through Captain Cox's yard and into his home, the thoroughly frightened
boy fled.

Pete Keifer, who had been in the army, a ninety day man, one of the
first to go to the front at the call of duty, one of the first to leave
for home after Bull Run, was most vehement in his threats on the lives
of those who had broken up the torch light procession. Keifer's hearing
was undoubtedly affected by the two pound lump that struck him in the
ear, and some scattering. Sammy Rowland's white shirt front caught a
cluster as large as a saucer. His wife said she had a feeling something
was going to happen when he put on a biled shirt on a week day.

Aaron Todd, who wore a set of whiskers that would have sent him to the
Senate had he lived in Kansas, carried home concealed in his whiskers a
pound or so of Alfred's joke.

Alfred lay in bed trembling. Every sound, every footstep on the street
startled him. When the father returned home he trembled until the bed
shook, fearing it was the mob entering the house. He heard his father
laughing, also the mother; then he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Pretending to be sound asleep he snored loudly. As his father neared the
bed he pretended to suddenly awake. The parent carelessly inquired: "How
long you been in bed?"

"Oh, I don't know how long, I've been asleep. Why? Is there anything
happened?" asked Alfred as he pulled the clothes up over his head to
hide his laughter.

The father replied: "Yes there has and I feared you were mixed up in it.
I am glad you came in early tonight." Then the father informed Alfred
that some half a dozen rowdies had hidden in the old tannery and
bombarded the Potts procession with all sorts of missiles and _things_.
He told of the rage of Keifer, the plight of Todd, etc.

Alfred was sorry the joke on Cousin Albert had miscarried but it seemed
to him the hand of fate guided his aim, as all those who suffered were
unfriendly, all save Sammy Rowland. He was a good friend with whom
Alfred had labored in the tan-yard.

Alfred went to sleep laughing and arose laughing. His mirth excited
comment; it was so continued. The mother often asserted that Alfred,
from the time he was a baby, always awoke laughing in the morning. But
his mirth was so uproarious this morning that it caused the father to
look worried.

Finally, he called Alfred into an adjoining room. Looking him full in
the face he asked: "Did you have a hand in that affair last night?"

Had Alfred been threatened with death he could not have suppressed his
laughter. The more he laughed the more serious the father became. He had
become satisfied that Alfred was connected with the reprehensible act.
The father continued threateningly:

"Well, my boy, you keep on, there will be an end to this kind of work. I
cannot protect you if it gets out on you; it will be the worst blow you
ever inflicted upon this family." Thus the father talked until Alfred
said: "Well, Pap, I hope you are not going to connect me with this thing
just because I laughed."

"No, but I have a feeling that you know something of it. Those
associated with you in this thing will be very apt to blame it all on
you."

"Oh no, they won't. Now, just because I laugh _you're_ going to swear
this thing onto me."

"I am not," replied the father. "The whole town is laughing for that
matter but it will go none the less hard with those engaged in it. I
wouldn't go over in town if I were you," advised the father as he left
the room.

Alfred made his way to Potts' shoe-shop, passing the old tan-house on
the way. Broken transparency, bits of candles, and other odds and ends
were scattered over the ground. The white-washed fence opposite the
window in the old tan-house had the appearance of a field covered with
snow, with here and there a bit of cedar shrubbery growing on it.

Dennis Isler, Jim Johnson and Piggy Mann were under suspicion. Alfred
stood among the crowd and listened in silence to each description of the
scene. No two had seen it alike; one man swore there were half a dozen
shots fired, another declared a brick knocked the hat off his head
without injuring him in the least.

Alfred returned home. The mother and Lin repeatedly inquired as to what
he was laughing at. Lin finally, when the mother was not within hearing,
with an air "you may fool everybody else but you can't fool me" half
whispered: "I know ye done hit. Everybody wud know hit wus ye. Why,
look at yer pants laig, up thar in the room, the marks is on hit."

Alfred flew up stairs. The right leg of a fairly good pair of pants was
amputated just above the knee. The mother wondered why Alfred gave those
pants to Cal Pastor (who had but one leg).

The _Clipper_ had become very friendly. There was scarcely an issue that
there was not a complimentary reference to the rising young actor, "an
ex-attachee of this paper." The _Clipper_ carried a graphic write-up of
the disrupting of the Potts procession. It was headed: "A Dastardly
Attempt to Defeat Potts by Discouraging His Supporters." "A most
unexpected and unprepared-for assault was perpetrated upon an orderly
procession of Brownsville's honest toilers, who were assaulted in the
darkness of night with murderous missiles and other _things_, in a
heated campaign with momentous issues involved. The hurling of foul
epithets is bad enough but when political opponents hurl such things as
were hurled at the Potts adherents it is time to call a halt. Many who
were injured by the fusillade declare the onslaught was so unexpected;
they were so completely taken by surprise that, had they been killed and
interred the assault would not have been more surprising to them. Among
those who were in the worst of the affray was that gallant soldier and
shingle maker, Peter Keifer. He has also seen service in assisting in
arresting Sam Craft who was drafted. Mr. Keifer will devote his time to
running down the hellish brigands who are a menace to the liberty of the
ballot. Mr. Keifer says he will not be deterred in his purpose."

Among those employed by Alfred's father was one, Node Beckley--"Noah"
was his proper name, but all, including his wife, called him Node. In
personal appearance he was not unlike Palmer; spare and wiry,
slim-faced, a large hooked nose, a tuft of beard on his chin. He had no
particular calling or trade; first a hotel keeper, then a house or boat
painter, paper hanger or decorator, saloonkeeper, book-agent, banjo
player and cheap gambler. He was good-natured. His wife was the head man
of the family; what Node lacked in spirit she made up in talk. Node was
kind in his way to his wife and children, who accepted his efforts in
their behalf without any untoward semblance of gratitude and with many
complaints that he did not do more for them. Consequently Node was
always on the hustle, or as near so as his indolent disposition would
permit him to be.

Isaac Jacquette, John Barnhart, Jim Mann, Cousin Charley and others were
continually teasing Node over his many unsuccessful ventures. Node did
not always take their joshings good naturedly but would remind them that
his time was coming, that he would yet strike a lead that would bring
him fortune. He had hinted so often in this manner that Alfred became
convinced Node was working on something in secret and became interested
in him. The other men ascribed Alfred's fondness for Beckley to the fact
that he could perform on the banjo; they often suggested that Alfred and
Beckley start a minstrel show.

"A boy's sense all runs to heart; A boy never sees the dark spots on the
character of the man he fancies."

Node Beckley was not a man of bad character. Alfred's father dispensed
with Beckley's services that he might disrupt the intimacy between the
two.

Node opened a saloon, the Rialto, on the corner of Barefoot Square and
Market Street. Alfred's father forbade him ever to enter the place.
Alfred obeyed. The familiarity continued, the man and boy were often
seen together on the street. Cousin Charley tracked them to the barn of
the old James Beckley Tavern. Alfred's father feared he was gambling;
all the gambling in those days was in haymows or unoccupied buildings in
winter, under the trees in summer. The games were "Seven Up" and
"Euchre".

Node was of an inventive turn of mind. It is not known whence came the
inspiration, nor is it certain that there was an inspiration. However,
it can be recorded to the glory of Brownsville that the first flying
machine or airship was the invention of a citizen of the old town.

The flying machine was the mysterious creation that Node had so often
hinted at. Alfred was deeply interested in the aerial machine. It was
planned that the invention should be kept secret from all. Harriet, his
wife, knew he was working on an invention of some sort, as he had been
engaged in this sort of experimenting a greater part of the time since
they wedded. When his perpetual motion machine failed to work "Had"
Beckley had lost interest in Node's inventions. Hence, the flying
machine under process of construction was known only to Alfred and the
inventor. It was their intention to completely surprise the world at
large and that part of it in particular bounded by the Brownsville
borough lines, by having Node flit over the town and perhaps over the
river; then later on, to Uniontown, to Pittsburg and other cities. Then
Alfred and Node would travel all over the world exhibiting the flying
machine.

In those days steam was the only propelling power. Gasoline engines were
unknown, electricity had not been harnessed except for telegraphing. The
propelling power of Node's flying machine lay in the arms and legs of
the one who soared in it.

The invention was a very simple contrivance, from which very fact Node
argued it would be successful. There were two large wings, nine feet in
length and of a proportionate breadth, constructed of very light
material, and, at Alfred's suggestion, covered with feathers. Alfred
felt it would be more apt to fly if it wore feathers. Every backyard,
wherein a family killed chickens, ducks or turkeys, was ransacked for
feathers. The variegated plumage of the machine would have defied the
most learned of ornithologists in defining the species of the bird
family to which it belonged.

There was what Node termed a "rear extension." Alfred invariably alluded
to it as "her tail." Why he applied the feminine gender to the machine
was another of those vagaries of which inventors are always possessed.

Node termed the wings, "side-propellers." The arms of the aerialist were
thrust through loops under the wings, hand-holds were at the proper
length from the base of the wings. There was a light frame, to which the
wings were attached; two light ropes, through pulleys worked by the
feet, flopped the rear extension up and down. The rear extension could
be also used as a steering apparatus. The entire thing depended upon the
movements of the arms. After the machine was far and away up in the air,
it would sail as do eagles and buzzards, so Node asserted.

The only doubt Node had was as to possessing strength to raise the thing
to the proper height. When he once got in the air, he had no fears of
staying there.

Alfred suggested that the first start be made from the steeple of the
Episcopal Church. Node seemed pleased with the suggestion. Later, when
they walked by the church and gazed up at the heights Node concluded the
wings and rear extension would have sufficient air pressure to make the
rise from a hill.

The work had progressed to the point where an experimental trial was in
sight. Node had been strapped in the frame-work several times. The wings
worked perfectly; that is, so long as Node's arms kept in motion. The
rear extension did not work so well. Node explained that it would not
work until the thing got up in the air where his feet would have free
play. He would sit astraddle of a bench, Alfred would hold the frame off
the floor, and Node would work his feet. Her "tail" would wobble and fly
up and down at a great rate. Its eccentric actions excited the
admiration of Alfred. He assured Node that her tail would be the wonder
of the world.

"Why, Black Fan's tail never flew around like that, even when she got in
the bumble-bee's nest," asserted Alfred.

Node had made several attempts to raise himself from the barn floor, but
there was not space to work the machine properly. They determined to
arise early some morning, take the machine to Hogg's field, just below
the pike and give it a trial. The apparatus was carefully carried to the
little mound on the high hill overlooking Dunlap's Creek.

Alfred cautioned Node not to fly down the hill, because it would be a
job to carry the machine up the hill.

[Illustration: Trying Out the Flying Machine]

Lin, gazing out of the kitchen window at the chickens picking around in
the yard, said: "Lor' a-mighty! What's happened them chickens? They
ain't one uf 'em got the shadder uf a tail."

Alfred had even stolen the big fly brush, made of peacock feathers, to
birdify Node's flying machine. The extreme end of the rear extension
held the long peacock feathers.

That the bird man idea should be carried out Alfred had made a head
dress of turkey feathers down the nape of the neck, and chicken feathers
in front. When placed on Node's head, with his beaked nose and tuft of
chin beard, he appeared very much as one would picture Uncle Joe Cannon
robed in Maude Adams' "Chanticler" costume.

Node was strapped in the frame, his arms adjusted to the wings, and
Alfred adjusted the head dress against Node's violent protest. He
argued: "The dam thing will get over my eyes and I am liable to fly into
a tree top. Take it off. I'll wear it after I get the hang of this
thing, after I fly awhile."

Several attempts were made at a rise. The rear extension always got out
of gear; the ropes and pulley tangled in the rigging. It was decided
that Alfred hold the rear extension aloft. Node would run down the hill
a few feet launching himself into the air.

Alfred assured Node that he could be of even greater assistance. While
the machine was in course of construction Node had his own way in
everything. Now he was strapped in the apparatus and any innovation
Alfred insisted upon he was powerless to reject. Therefore Alfred
hastened home. There was not a clothes prop in his father's garden long
enough to suit his ideas, therefore, he ran to the next door neighbor's,
Alex Smith's, selecting the longest prop he could find. Hastening to the
scene of the ascension, he found Node in anything but an amiable mood.

"What the devil do you mean by strapping me in this thing and running
all over town to find a pole to push me up in the air? Do you s'pose I
want you to pole me like a raft? You hold up that end of the thing and
I'll fly."

Node was mad enough to fly. Against his angry protests Alfred inserted
the end of the pole between his legs, held up the tail part of the
machine, encouraging Node to take a running start, when he got the
proper momentum to shout "Now," and he, Alfred, would give him a lift
that was bound to shoot him into the air.

They backed up the hill. Node lowered his arms, the wings resting on the
ground, resting himself a bit; turning his bird-like head toward Alfred
he asked if there was anyone watching them. Node was evidently not sure
in his mind that the flight would be successful. When assured by Alfred
that there were no witnesses Node cautioned him not to lift too strongly
on the pole which was still between his legs. Looking up in the air as
if to gauge the height to which he intended to ascend, he said: "Now get
ready and stand by if anything happens when I light."

"Ready?" asked Node, in an eager voice.

"Let her go," was Alfred's reply.

Down the hill ran the two. "Now!" shouted Node.

Alfred put all his power into the lift he gave the man-bird. Node seemed
to arise. One of the ropes caught around Alfred's neck nearly severing
one of his ears. Alfred fell headlong, rolling over two or three times.

When he arose he directed his gaze heavenward, expecting to see Node
soaring through the air. Curses and struggles from a point twenty feet
down the hill disclosed the whereabouts of the inventor. Node was lying
there, the apparatus in a tangled heap. It was with considerable labor,
made more difficult as he was weak from laughter, that Alfred released
Node. Criminations and recriminations followed. Node swore he had
started on a beautiful flight; he could feel himself going up as light
as a soap bubble, just then Alfred's damn fool head-piece flopped down
over his eyes, blinding him so he couldn't see what he was doing. He
quit flapping his wings and fell like a log. If it hadn't been for the
head dress there's no telling where he would have flown to.

Alfred contended that the tailpiece caught on one of his ears and pulled
the bird-man back out of the air. As proof he exhibited the lacerated
ear. Alfred had assured Node that there were no witnesses. However, the
aeronauts had an audience. Jake Beeca and Strap Gaines stood in the road
below; Pete Williams, Billy Brubaker and a couple of strangers were
looking down from the pike above; Johnny Johnson and Widdy Gould were
gazing on the wreck from their back yards. Mary Hart, Jim Hart and Mrs.
Smith were at the front gate, inquiring of Lin and Alfred's mother the
cause of the strange procession then passing.

[Illustration: The End of the Flight]

Node came first. He had forgotten his hat and shoes, laid aside to
lighten him for his flight, his clothes were literally bespattered with
soft, brown earth, his nose scratched, one of his hands bleeding; on his
head the bedraggled feather cap. Following behind came Alfred, one ear
bleeding, his clothing covered with dirt. In his arms he carried the
wrecked flying machine, the rear extension dragging, the beautifully
colored peacock feathers trailing the dirt.

Node, with bowed head and abashed manner, walked as though going to his
execution. Alfred could scarcely walk at all, the ludicrous ending of
the flight, appealed so to his mirth.

Lin gazed curiously at the two as they passed. She scrutinized the
flying machine closely, the feathers, the head-dress on Node. She
entered the house: "Well, Mary," (addressing the mother), "I've seed a
good many funny sights sence Alfurd's been ole enuf tu run aroun' but
I'll be durned ef this one ain't the cap sheaf."

"What's happened now?" anxiously queried the mother.

"Well, I ain't seed enuf tu jes zackly say what it is but hit looks like
Alfurd hed turned his mind tu a Injun show. He's got Node Beckley into
hit; they has things all trimmed with feathers. Now you know what has
made our chickens look so bobbed; they ain't one uf 'em thet's got es
much tail feathers es a blue bird in poke berry time. An' yer peafowl
feather duster,"--here Lin raised her hands--"why they ain't enough left
to shoo a pis-ant, let alone a fly. Lor' Mary, hit's orful, they must-a
had a sham battul or a war, fer Node is kivered with blood an' Alfurd
looked peeled in several places. Node had on a ole feather head dress,
barefooted 'ceptin' socks, no hat or coat, kivered with dust and so was
Alfurd. He was carryin' the Injun fixin's and laffin'; laffin', why
you'd think hit wus the bigges' frolik in the world. Node looked jes es
Joe Sandford looked when he shed his wall-paper show duds. I'll jes run
over an' see what Had Beckley has tu say. I'll bet she'll rear an'
charge when Node gets home."

"Good mornin' Mrs. Beckley, how's all?" was Lin's greeting.

"Won't you walk in, we're all upside down here; walk in ef you can git
in fur the dirt and cluttered up house. Node's been up and gone for two
hours; I'm waitin' fur him to kum so we kin eat breakfus an' clean up. I
have no idee whar he is; your Alfred an' him's together nite an' day
now."

Lin looked surprised as she repeated, "Nite an' day? An' what do ye
s'pose they is up tu, Mrs. Beckley?"

"Well, I dunno. Node's allus got some notion or other in his head. I
never pay no tension to him; ef hit ain't one thing hit's anuther. I
rekon hit's a patent rite concern. He's been putterin' on pattern things
ever sence we wus married."

"Do they run out at nite much, Node an' Alfurd?" Lin asked.

"Why, every blessed nite and all day Sundays."

Lin suggested: "Maybe they go to Baptus meetin'. Thar havin' a revivul;
maybe Node an' Alfurd's thinkin' of jinin' the Baptus Church."

"Huh! Node would be a hell of a Baptus; he's so feared of water he
hain't washed his feet this blessed wintur," snapped Mrs. Beckley.

Lin decided in her mind that Mrs. Beckley was entirely ignorant of the
scheme her husband and Alfred had under way and she changed tack:
"Perhaps they're startin' a show. Has yer husband talked about Injuns tu
yer lately?"

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