Watch Yourself Go By
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Al. G. Field >> Watch Yourself Go By
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"My Gawd, Mary! Come out here, quick!"
The mother appeared as Alfred neared the house. Looking curiously at
him, she covered her face with her apron and began to laugh. Lin ran
into the house screaming and laughing. The boy stood abashed. The mother
motioned him to approach her, pushing him into the house. She obtained a
view of the rear of the warrior's uniform and a fresh outburst of
laughter prevented her even speaking to him. Lin and the mother clasped
each other in their arms as they swayed, weakened with laughter. Lin was
the first to recover her speech. The boy's feelings were hurt.
"Where's your regular clothes?" Lin first asked, "you bin in a-swimmin'
agin and lost 'em, I reckon."
The children came romping home from school, Sister Lizzie rolled on the
floor as she caught sight of the boy and asked Lin, between screams:
"Who dressed brother Al up like that?"
The mother ordered him to remain in the room until they got other
clothes for him. They did not want the neighbors to see him dressed as
he was.
The boy's spirit began to assert itself.
"Laugh, if you feel like it. Lacy Hare and Aunt Betsy made me these
clothes, they're regular soldier clothes. I'll bet if you laugh at them
when Aunt Betsy comes she will tell you something. I don't see nothin'
to laugh at."
"Landsakes," spoke up Lin, "step in the parlor and look at yerself. Ef
you don't laugh you're not the kind I took ye fer."
Alfred did laugh and he got out of the clothes mighty quickly. Lin was
delegated to explain to Aunt Betsy why they changed Alfred's clothes so
quickly.
Aunt Betsy informed them:
"The boy had jes' romped until he was most naked. They didn't want to
send to town for clothes for him, so Lacy and her jes' banded together
and made him the suit. They had plenty of time and they concluded to
make him a suit different from any other boy's. And it warn't much
trouble to trim it up and make it nice rather than to make it plain. It
took two days more to trim it than it did to make it."
Lin told the good, honest soul they could not think of Alfred wearing
the clothes every day in town. "We'll keep 'em off him 'til the next
battle and when the peepul are all sad over their friends that's been
killed, we'll dress him up and send him down the street."
Many years afterwards, the writer, rummaging through the garret of the
old home, the odd garments fashioned by Lacy Hare and Aunt Betsy were
discovered. Recollections of the mirth they aroused when first brought
to the notice of the family, prompted the carrying of the old musty
outfit to the sitting room below.
But somehow the odd looking suit failed to excite any merriment. It was
rather regarded with reverence. The sight of it sent the thoughts of all
traveling back to other and happier days. The mother thought of those
whose kindly hands had fashioned the fantastic garments; of an elder
sister who had filled a mother's place in the family. She remembered a
happy home, its like unknown in all the country about, where hospitality
was liberally dispensed, visitors always welcome. She thought of the
first wife's passing, the coming of another to the big house. The
lowering of the family name by the second marriage. The shunning of the
old home by friends and relatives; of the rapid decline of the master;
evil associates whom he preferred to those who had honored and loved
him; the estrangement of family and friends.
In her mind she could see in him a bent old man, prematurely old,
leaving his home to seek shelter with strangers, lost to the sight of
former friends, his whereabouts known only when the final summons came
to him; his identity made known by his last request:
"I have left money with George Gallagher to bury me. Bury me beside
Betsy."
And in her mind she saw two graves side by side, one with a marker
reading "My Beloved Wife," the other unmarked.
The mother softly said as she folded the coat and nether garments:
"Put them away again."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Backward, turn backward, oh, time in your flight,
Make me a child again, just for tonight.
"Help is mighty skeerse an' ye got to take what ye kin git," was Lin's
answer to the query of a neighbor as to why they had re-employed Cousin
Charley after the confusion he had created in the family of Alfred.
Cousin Charley was sent to the country on an errand that was supposed to
consume a couple of hours.
It was Circus day. The head of the family gave the boys sufficient money
to pay their way from side-show to concert.
That they might not miss any of the sights of Circus day, Charley
arranged with Lin to serve breakfast by 5 a. m., to give him an early
start, enabling him to return by 8 o'clock and take Alfred to the circus
grounds to remain all day, the custom of the country folk in those days.
Many families brought their lunch with them and picnicked on the show
grounds. Among them was Abner Linn, a large man noted for his appetite
and great strength. Abner was making his way through the crowd on Circus
day, clearing a path, as it were, for his delicate little wife and more
than half a dozen children. The frail little woman carried a large
basket filled with eatables. The basket was more than a load and the
little woman struggled to keep near her muscular husband. Glancing back
and noticing the wife faltering, he relieved her of the basket and
started forward at a faster walk than before.
Gentle Harry Mason admiringly complimented him by saying:
"Abner, that was very kind and thoughtful of you to carry that heavy
basket for your wife."
Ab, with a leer, said: "Gosh, I was afeard she'd get lost."
Alfred cried to go to the country with Charley. Lin said:
"Ye'll be so tired ye can't enjoy the show ef ye walk out thar an' back
so early in the mornin'."
Go Alfred would. Up Town Hill, through Sandy Hollow, through the old
toll gate to Thornton's Lane where the boys were to turn off the old
pike. But they did not turn off. They lingered under the big locust
trees throwing stones at birds and against the high fence surrounding
the Fair Grounds where Black Fan had won her famous race. The circus was
coming in on the old pike from Uniontown. All circus travel was overland
in those days.
Cousin Charley argued if they did not see the show come in they'd miss
one of the big sights of the day: they had plenty of time. The show
would pass that way soon and Alfred was only too willing to linger.
The dew, sparkling like diamonds as it lay on grass and plant, had
disappeared; a summer's sun was pouring its direct rays on the old pike.
Cousin Charley prevailed on the younger boy to continue the journey
further eastward on the pike until they met the wagons. Cousin Charley
explained that he was familiar with a short cut to their destination,
and as they crossed the creek they would have a swim.
This met with the hearty approval of Alfred. The boys walked out the old
highway, passing Captain Abram's fine farm where Charley had dug
potatoes on the shares, on beyond Uncle Jack's big stone house, nearly
to Redstone School-house ere the circus wagons were met. As the wagons
rolled by, the boys conjectured as to what each contained. There were no
animal vans as the menagerie had not combined with the circus in those
days. The big, gold-mounted band wagon, followed by a dozen passenger
wagons, buggies and hacks, a half dozen led ring horses and ponies,
passed, and the cavalcade was lost in the dust.
Striking across the fields the boys were soon on the banks of Dunlap's
Creek. Instead of the gently flowing stream in which they expected to
bathe their heated bodies, they found a raging, muddy torrent, fast
flowing, spreading over bottom lands, water half way up the stalks of
the growing corn.
Cousin Charley declared the water too muddy for bathing purposes; but he
would undress, construct a raft of the plentiful rails that had lodged
along the banks of the creek, and seating Alfred on the raft, he would
swim, pushing the raft across the creek.
Cousin Charley began constructing the raft near the creek bank proper,
where the water was backed into the field. He dragged the rails through
the water, sometimes lying down and swimming, at other times diving
under the water. Alfred could not resist the temptation to undress and
assist with the raft.
[Illustration: The Life Raft]
When completed, Cousin Charley seated Alfred on the top of the raft, the
clothing of both boys being piled on his lap that they might not get
wet. The raft was pushed off, Cousin Charley insisting that he was a
stern wheel tow boat, kicking his feet out of the water to imitate the
splash of the wheel. The boat did not make great headway but backed and
went ahead as the raft floated down the creek. The banks were steeper on
either side, therefore, the tow boat decided to go down the stream a
little further ere landing. In fact, the towboat was having such a good
time he did not fully realize the current was carrying his tow rapidly
towards the old mill dam. Neither did the passenger on the raft realize
this until he noticed a changed expression on the face of the tow boat.
He further realized that the tow boat was laboring powerfully.
In rounding a bend in the stream the tow actually swung around in the
current, the tow boat not having power to prevent it. The younger boy
for the first time noticed the roaring of the old dam, a fact the boy
doing the towing had been aware of and terribly worried over for some
time.
In his excitement, the younger boy stood up on the raft.
"Set down! Set down!" frantically yelled the boy in the water.
Another alarming fact presented itself at this juncture. Several of the
under rails had worked out and were only connected to the raft by one
end. This caused the raft to settle on the port side and the younger boy
could no longer keep his seat, fearing he would tumble off backwards
into the stream.
The boys became more and more excited, the roar of the old dam grew
nearer and nearer. Louder and louder came the noise of the waters
tumbling over it. Both boys pictured themselves being swept over the dam
into the whirlpool below. No victim of Niagara's treacherous tides ever
neared his doom with greater terror. Down, down, floated rails and
cargo; Cousin Charley struggling as he never did before; Alfred
screaming as he never did before or since.
When Cousin Charley began shouting for help, the younger boy became
hysterical. The roar of the rushing water seemed to drown all other
sounds and Cousin Charley's voice, though he shouted at the top of his
lungs' strength, sounded to Alfred's ears like a voice in the distance.
"Set down! Set down! For God's sake, set down! You'll fall off. Set
down!" yelled Cousin Charley.
Instead of obeying, Alfred clambered higher and higher on the rails,
waving his shirt frantically and shouting for help. The shirt served as
a signal of distress.
Morg Gaskill was in the field above the Young House. He saw the shirt
waving. The roar of the waters drowned the boys' voices. Gaskill,
rushing to the saw-mill, grabbed a log hook and ran up the banks of the
creek.
The boys could see the break of the water as it rushed over the crest of
the dam and the white, foamy splashes as it bounded up from where it
fell below. Cousin Charley was barely holding on to the tow; Alfred was
sinking down on the almost disintegrated raft.
Gaskill, muscular and active, rushed into the water up to his middle,
shot the pole out. The hook caught over the rails, but they pulled out.
Alfred fell on them as the raft drifted apart. Down went all of
Charley's wearing apparel excepting his big straw hat and one shoe which
Alfred clutched unconsciously in one hand. As Alfred fell forward on the
rails he grabbed the hook or pole and held on for dear life as Gaskill
pulled him ashore, more dead than alive.
The elder boy was floated off holding onto two rails. It was but a
moment until the strong young man had both lads ashore. They dragged the
hook along the bottom of the creek but not a vestige of the clothes of
either could be found. Charley had one shoe and a large straw hat.
Alfred had a shirt, rather long, and a hat.
Explanations were gone into. Gaskill went into the house, returning with
an old rubber boot, a calico shirt and a pair of corduroy pants. Many
patches made their original material a matter of doubt. He explained
that was the best he could do for Charley and said:
"I don't know what we will do for the chap," scanning Alfred, "unless he
wears one of Hannah's dresses," which Cousin Charley endeavored to
persuade Alfred to do.
Alfred declared he would sneak home as best he could with only the
shirt. The boy realized that Cousin Charley would never cease teasing
him if he wore the dress.
Alfred's body was covered with mud, Cousin Charley insisted that he go
down to the water's brink and wash the mud from his body but Alfred
could not be prevailed upon to go near the creek.
A large pail of very cold water was fetched from the well. With a
mischievousness little short of cruelty, the water was poured on
Alfred's head, streaming down over his body, his teeth chattered, his
lips turned blue.
The women folks of the house were coming, so Alfred ran into the high
grass to hide; while Cousin Charley and Gaskill renewed their search of
the creek for the lost clothes. The house had been searched and nothing
suitable to clothe Alfred could be found. There were no boys in the
family.
There was a whispered consultation and one of the women hastened to the
house. Returning, she handed Gaskill a white linen garment. He walked
towards Alfred, his face distorted, endeavoring to suppress his
laughter.
Gaskill, unrolling the something made of muslin, commanded Alfred to get
into it. As he put one foot through the upheld opening, he caught sight
of Cousin Charley's face and his attempted concealment of laughter. This
so exasperated Alfred that he did not notice the garment he was being
encased in. He upbraided Cousin Charley for his unseemly levity:
"Yes, laugh, you durn big fool! Laugh! You was skeered more than I was.
Dog-gone ye, it was all your fault. If we had drowned you would have
been to blame, then I reckon you'd laughed tuther side of your mouth.
You big fool, you."
By this time Gaskill had the muslin garment fastened on Alfred. The
waistband, which was too wide, Gaskill doubled over and pinned it. The
legs were the same size all the way down, extending only a little below
the knees. The seat seemed to have a surplus similar to the uniform
Lacy Hare had fashioned, although this part of the garment stood off
from his person, not clinging like the heavy material of the military
clothes.
Alfred, surveying himself as they walked towards the house where Mr.
Young had invited them to have a bite of dinner, "after their skeer,"
began to realize that the linen garments he wore were similar to those
that Lin washed last and never hung on the line in the front yard where
the men came in. This discovery did not prevent him laughing at himself.
[Illustration: "I Won't Go Through Town with Them Things On"]
Alfred hesitatingly entered the house. Gaskill and Cousin Charley were
tittering and laughing. Gaskill inquired: "Well, how are you going to
git home?"
Charley replied: "I reckon I'll have to hide him out 'til after dark or
send him on ahead for, by the eternal, I won't go through town with him
with them things on."
Old Mrs. Young, gently leading the abashed boy to the table, spoke words
of assurance, reproving the men for their levity.
The Youngs were of the Dunkard faith, a religious sect numerous in the
vicinity.
On their way home Alfred was the more hilarious of the two. In a spirit
of bravado he declared he intended to walk right down the main street
crowded as it would be on circus day. He further declared his intention
to tell Pap and Mother the whole story--just how it happened.
Alfred seemed to have the better of the bigger and older boy. In fact,
during the past year Alfred had been gradually gaining the mastery of
Cousin Charley insofar as mind was concerned.
It has been said that each mind has its own method, no two reason and
think alike. Alfred seemed to think quicker than Cousin Charley and
often turned the tables on the older boy in a mental contest. On this
occasion Cousin Charley finally gained the mastery by his threats not to
take the younger boy to the circus.
It was agreed that Cousin Charley should tell the folks of the day's
adventure. As they neared home their mirth diminished as their fears
increased: how to run the gauntlet, as it were. So far they had avoided
the highways, skulking through thicket and fields. As they neared the
old Smouse place, now occupied by Mart Massie as a dairy farm, the
milkman was hitching up preparatory to making his usual rounds.
Cousin Charley, perhaps feeling it would be a good rehearsal, recounted
the story he had concocted to relate to Alfred's parents. The milkman
was greatly interested in the thrilling narrative and consented to store
the boys in the back end of the milk wagon, delivering them when he
delivered the milk to their folks. The boys thought it a very long milk
route. Alfred had Cousin Charley as nearly nervous as his nature would
permit by more than once threatening to get out and walk home.
When they neared home, passing through Church Street, Alfred made a move
to leave the wagon, crawling over the end gate backwards, his limbs
dangling outside, his head and body hid by the closely drawn curtains.
Cousin Charley, after struggling, pulled him into the wagon under cover.
[Illustration: "If Ye Ain't Lyin' About This and I'm Hopin' Ye Air"]
Several women had caught sight of the limbs and the unmentionable
garments. While the driver was entirely ignorant of the cause, he was
forever disgraced on this part of his route. An old Scotch lady declared
to several of her neighbors the "shameless hussy was bare to the kilt."
Arriving in front of Alfred's home, Cousin Charley hustled him into the
house the front way as Lin came up the path from the back part of the
house in answer to the bell of the milkman, who was of the gossiping
kind, and managed to give Lin the outlines of Cousin Charley's story as
he drew the milk and cream from his large cans.
Lin could scarcely wait until he poured the milk into her pitcher.
Giving the milk vendor a withering look, she slammed the gate and
hissed:
"I'll bet a fippennybit that's another of Charley's durn lies."
Hurrying into the kitchen she seized a rolling pin, her favorite weapon.
Two stairs at a time she bounded, reaching the room where Cousin Charley
had related about half of the harassing details of the rescue of Alfred.
This was his story:
"He had stopped to rest. Alfred got out of his sight in some way. He
heard screams from the creek. He saw Alfred floating down the stream on
a log which he had been paddling around in the shallow water. It was but
the work of a moment to disrobe. Plunging into the raging torrent he had
to swim for dear life to overtake the fast floating boy on the log. He
had just managed to land him before the dam was reached. A moment later
and they would both have been carried over the dam to certain
destruction."
The mother was faint with nervousness and sadly shook her head as she
said:
"That boy will be the death of me yet. His disobedience is something I
cannot understand. No wonder his father is out of patience with him."
Lin was watching Charley closely, occasionally casting side glances at
Alfred. She had a gleam in her eyes that made Charley falter more than
once in his narration.
Charley was still in the details when Lin interrupted him with:
"Durn yer pictur', ye nivir take this boy anywhar yer not back with a
cock and bull story. Next ye'll be fightin' Injuns or gypsies to save
Alfurd and it all amounts to Alfurd gittin' whupped an' somethin, fer ye
to laff over."
Here she brandished the rolling pin over Charley, raising herself higher
as the boy shrank from her threatening motions.
"Ef ye ain't lyin' 'bout this, an' I'm hopin' ye air, we ought to be
mighty thankful to ye. But I'm boun' to hev the truth. Set down, or I'll
knock ye down."
"'Al-f-u-r-d,' I want ye to stan' up like a little man. Ye nivir tol' me
a lie 'cept when ye stol' us hungry carryin' vittles to this houn'," as
she pointed to the thoroughly frightened Charley, who whined:
"That's all the thanks I git for risking my life."
"Shet up," Lin almost yelled, "ye'll not tell one word of this to Mr.
Hatfield."
"Stan' up 'Al-f-u-r-d' an' look this helgrimite in the face an' shame
the devil. Didn't he push ye in the creek?"
"No, ma'am," falteringly. "I went in myself."
Charley began to look triumphant.
"Did he pull you out?"
"No, ma'am, Morg Gaskill pulled us both out."
Lin fairly hissed: "I knowed ye was lyin'."
Thus encouraged, Alfred graphically related the adventures of the day,
not omitting any of the details save the dangling of his limbs out of
the milk wagon.
Charley was taken aback and thereafter his credibility was destroyed in
so far as the mother and Lin were concerned. He pouted and endeavored to
deny portions of the younger boy's recital but was met with such
positive assertions from Alfred that he retired entirely discomfited.
Lin's only comment was: "Durn ye; I'd be afeard to put my head in a
circus, much less a church." Lin looked upon one with as much reverence
as the other.
The boys missed the afternoon performance but were there early for the
night show. At the opening note of the hand organ in the side-show
Cousin Charley and Alfred were inside. The orator had eloquently
described the curiosities pictured on the long line of banners in front
of the side-show. But the most alluring object had not been mentioned,
namely, a long show case filled with jewelry, symbolic numbers, bank
notes of all denominations. A dice box on top of the glass-covered case
was the means by which the yokels were assured they could extract the
jewelry, bank notes, etc.
The father had given Charley ample funds to cover admission fees to all
shows and a liberal allowance for refreshments. Alfred was very much
interested in the big snake and the lady whom the lecturer introduced as
a snake charmer.
The lecturer announced that the performance was over, but another would
be given in fifteen minutes. All those wishing to remain for the next
performance were privileged to do so. Those congregated around the show
case whereon the dice rattled were the only ones to remain.
Alfred heard the man behind the case saying: "Try your luck again, young
man. You were within one number of the capital prize. You can't win it
every time. Try again."
Charley did try again and again. He did not win the capital prize but in
lieu of $4 he had two brass rings, a pair of brass cuff buttons and a
lead pencil with a sharpener on the end of it.
The shades of night were falling. The lights in the big tent could be
seen over the side wall. Hundreds of candles on a pyramid-shaped
candelabra made of boards. Think of it, ye modern Ringlings, candles the
only lights!
The band playing, Alfred imagined the show going on: the horses going
around. All the glories and beauties he had been anticipating for weeks
would be lost to him. He implored Cousin Charley to hurry up and
purchase their tickets.
Hundreds were buying tickets. The big red wagon was open, the ticket
seller handling the pasteboards with lightning-like rapidity. It was Ben
Lusbie. He was the lightning ticket seller of the circus world. Such was
his dexterity that Forepaugh afterwards lithographed him as an
attraction.
Alfred's urgent appeals to "hurry and get our tickets" were lost upon
Cousin Charley. He was seemingly dazed. The man at the big door shouted:
"Everybody hold their own ticket; all must have tickets."
The hustle and confusion made Alfred still more impatient. He gave the
older boy's arm a rough jerk as he urged him to get their tickets.
Cousin Charley seemed to wake up and the awful truth was
revealed--Cousin Charley had been robbed. Alfred must stand right there
until he took the jewelry back to the side show and recovered his money.
Alfred stood right there. Hundreds passed him, laughing and crowding
into the big show. The longer Alfred waited the more miserable he
became. Despair came over him. He waited, Cousin Charley did not come.
The crowd thinned out; deeper and deeper Alfred's heart sank within him.
Anger began to take the place of disappointment. He would beat Cousin
Charley black and blue with the first thing he could lay his hands on.
He would expose all he had been concealing in a hundred mean things
Charley had been guilty of.
The band played louder in the big tent. The feeling that he was missing
all came back to him stronger than ever, bringing the hot tears to his
eyes. They rolled down his cheeks until it seemed they would dampen the
earth at his feet.
Alfred saw a large man pushing his way to the ticket wagon. It was
Doctor Bob Playford, the biggest whole-souled friend any boy ever had.
When the circus came, it was the custom of Bob Playford to wait until
the crowd got in, then, collecting all the boys on the lot who could not
command the price of admission, make a contract with the door-keeper and
put them all in the show.
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