The Blunders of a Bashful Man

M >> Metta Victoria Full Victor >> The Blunders of a Bashful Man

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

"A capital way to take your morning bath," smiled Knickerbocker.
"Come, Mr. Flutter, get out of that, and find your rod and line, and
come along. I have a good breakfast in this basket, which we will eat
in some dewy nook of the woods, while we are waiting for a nibble. The
early bird catches the worm, you know."

"I'll be with you in a moment," I answered with a blank grin,
determined to be cool and composed, though my sudden plunge had
somewhat dazed me; and scrambling out of the primitive cistern, I
regained the roof by means of a ladder standing against a cherry-tree
not far away.

Consoling myself with the idea that this early adventure was an
_accident_ and not a _blunder_, I hastily dressed, and rejoined my new
friend, with rod and line, and a box of flies.

We had a delightful morning. Knickerbocker was affable. Alone in the
solitudes of nature with one of my own sex, I was tolerably at home,
and flattered myself that I appeared to considerable advantage,
especially as I really was a skillful angler, and landed two trout to
my friend's landing one. By ten o'clock we each had a lovely string of
the speckled beauties, and decided to go home for the day, returning
on the morrow.

The path we took out of the woods came into the highway just in front
of the Widow Cooper's. I knew it, but I felt quite cool, and
determined to make some excuse to catch another glimpse of my
companion's sister. I had one splendid fish among my treasures,
weighing over two pounds, while none of his weighed over a pound. I
would present that trout to Flora Knickerbocker! I would ask her to
have the cook prepare it for her special delectation.

We emerged upon the lawn and sauntered up to the front of the house,
where some half-dozen ladies were sitting on the long porch, doing
worsted-work and reading novels. I saw my charmer among them, and, as
she looked up from the book she was reading, and shot at me a
mischievous glance from those thrilling eyes, I felt my coolness
melting at the most alarming rate.

How I envied the easy, careless grace with which my friend sauntered
up to the group! Why should I not be as graceful, as easy? I would
make a desperate effort to "assume a virtue if I had it not." I, too,
sauntered elegantly, lifted my hat killingly, and approached my
charmer just as if I didn't realize that I was turning all the colors
of the chameleon.

"Miss Knickerbocker," I began, "will you deign to accept the champion
trout of the season?"

The string of glistening fish hung from the fine patent rod which I
carried over my shoulder. I never could undo the tangle of how it all
came about; but, in my embarrassment, I must have handled things not
quite so gracefully as I intended--the line had become unwound, and
the hook dangling at the end of it as I attempted to lower the rod
caught in my coat collar behind, and the more I tugged the more it
would not come out. I flushed and jerked, and tried to see the back of
my head, while the ladies smiled encouragingly, rendering me more and
more desperate, until I gave a fearful twitch, and the barb came
flying out and across the porch, striking a prim maiden lady on the
head.

More and more confused, I gave a sudden pull to relieve the lady, and
succeeded in getting a very queer bite indeed. At first I thought, in
my horror, that I had drawn the whole top of the unfortunate
spinster's head off; but a second frightened look showed me that it
was only her scalpette, or false front, or whatever the dear creatures
call a half-wig, all frizzes and crimps. Almost faint with dismay at
the glare of anger in the lady's eyes, and the view of the bald white
spot on top of her head, I hurriedly drew the thing toward me to
remove it from the hook, when a confounded little Spitz, seeing the
spot, and thinking, doubtless, I was playing with him, made a dash at
the wig, and in less time than it takes to tell it, that thing of
beauty was a wreck forever. Its unfortunate owner, with a look which
nearly annihilated me, fled up-stairs to her apartment.

Nor was my discomfiture then ended. That Spitz--that precious
Spitz--belonged to Blue-Eyes; I tried to coax him to relinquish his
game; he would not be persuaded, and, in the ardor of his pursuit, he
swallowed the cruel hook. I had wanted to present her with a trout,
and had only succeeded in hooking her favorite pet--"her darling, her
dear, dear little Spitzy-witzy," as she called him, in tones of
mingled endearment and anguish, as she flew to rescue him from his
cruel fate.

"Oh, what can I do?" she sobbed, looking up at her brother.

"Cut him open and remove the hook," he answered gravely; "there is no
other possible way of relieving the poor fellow."

"I wish _I_ had swallowed it," I murmured, bitterly, throwing my fish
into the grass of the lawn, and pulling at my mustache desperately in
my despair of ever doing as other people do.

"I really wish you had," snapped Blue-Eyes, satirically, and with that
I walked off and left them to take Spitz from around that fish-hook
the best way they could.

I don't imagine I left many female friends on that porch, nor did I
see any of the Widow Cooper's boarders again for a week, when we were
brought together, under rather peculiar circumstances at a circus.

CHAPTER XI.

HE GOES TO THE CIRCUS.

In vain I struggled to regain the peace of mind I was beginning to
enjoy before I met Flora Knickerbocker. I could not forget her; I
dared not approach her--for I had heard a rumor that her dog had died
a _barb_-arous death, and his young mistress was inconsolable. I spent
the long, lazy summer days in dreaming of her, and wishing that
bashfulness were a curable disease.

One morning, very early, when

"The window slowly grew a glimmering square,"

I heard an unwonted commotion on our quiet road, and slipping out of
bed, I went to the window to see "what was up." It was a circus
company, with a menagerie attachment, winding through the dim dawn,
elephant and all.

For a moment my heart beat, as in its childish days, at sight of the
unique cavalcade; but it soon grew sad, and ached worse than ever at
the reflection that Miss Flora was a city girl, and would despise a
circus. However, some time during the day I heard from aunt that
_all_ of Widow Cooper's boarders had made up their minds to attend,
that evening, the performance, which was to take place in a small town
two miles from us. These fine city folks doubtless thought it would be
an innocent "lark" to go to the circus in this obscure country
village.

I had outgrown my childish taste for the hyena, the gnu, and the
anaconda; I was indifferent to the india-rubber man; nor did I care
much for the beautiful bare-back rider who was to flash through the
hoops like a meteor through the orbits of the planets; but I did long
to steal one more look, unseen, unsuspected, at the sweet face which
was lovelier to me, even in its anger, than any other. I had been the
means of Spitz's death--very well, I could hide myself in some obscure
corner of the amphitheater, and gaze at her mournfully from the
distance. While she gazed at the ring, I would gaze at _her_.

So I went to the circus, along with a good many other people. _She_
came early with the Cooper party, and seemed interested and amused by
the rough-board seats, and the novelty of the scene, and the audience.
I had not yet chosen my perch on the boards, for I wanted to get as
near to her as I could without her observing me.

The sight of her--resolved as I was to be cool, calm, and
collected--so affected my eyesight that I walked right into the rope
stretched around the ring, and fell over into the tan-bark.

All the boys hooted and laughed, and made personal remarks, wanting to
know if I were the clown, and similar questions, which I heard with
silent dignity. I hoped and prayed that _she_ had not recognized the
tumbler who had begun the performances as an amateur, and without any
salary from Barnum. They were on the opposite side of the circle, and
perhaps I escaped their remark.

Contriving to mingle myself with some newcomers, I made my way more
cautiously to within a few feet of my charmer. I did not intend she
should see me, and was surprised when she whispered to her brother,
upon which he immediately looked in my direction and beckoned me to a
seat in their party.

Oh, bliss! In another moment I was at her feet--sitting on the plank
next lower than that which held her lovely form, with the dainty
billows of lace and organdie rippling around me, and her little toes
pressed into the small of my back. Was this a common, vulgar
circus--with a menagerie attachment? To me it was the seventh heaven.
The clown leaped lightly into the ring, cracked his whip, and began
his witticisms. I heard him as one hears the murmur of the sea in his
dreams. The beautiful bare-back rider galloped, ran, jumped, smiled,
kissed her hand, and trotted off the stage with Master Clown at her
heels and the whole scene was to me only as a scene in a painting on
which my eye casually fell. The only living, breathing fact of which
I was really conscious was that those blue eyes were shining like
stars just over my head.

In the pauses of the drama, the lemonade man went by. What was he to
me, or I to him? Noisy boys or verdant farming youths might patronize
him at their will--I slaked my thirst with deep draughts of a nectar
no lemonade-fellow could dispense at two cents a glass. While the
cannon-ball man was catching a ten-pound ball between his teeth, and
the boneless boy was tying himself in a double bow-knot, I was
pleasing myself with images of the darling little Spitz I would seek,
purchase, and present to Miss Flora in place of the one who had
thoughtlessly swallowed my fish-hook.

"Were you ever in love, young man?" suddenly asked the clown, after
the india-rubber athlete had got tired of turning himself, like a
dozen flap-jacks on a hot griddle.

The question startled me. I looked up. It seemed to me, as he eyed me,
that he had addressed it particularly to me. I blushed. Some strange
country girls on either side of me began to titter. I blushed more
decidedly. The motley chap in the ring must have seen it. He grinned
from ear to ear, walked up to the very edge of the rope, and repeated:

"Were you ever in love, young man?"

There were young men all round me; he might have looked at
Knickerbocker, or any one of a dozen others; if I had not been
supersensitive I never should have imagined that he meant to be
personal.

If I had not retained the self-possession of an egotist, I should have
reflected that it was not the thing to notice the vulgar wit of a
circus-clown. Unfortunately self-possession is the last possession of
a bashful man. I half rose from my seat, demanding fiercely:

"Are you speaking to me, sir?"

"If the shoe fits, you can wear it," was the grinning answer; and then
there was a shout from the whole audience--hooting, laughter, clapping
of hands--and I felt that I had made a Dundreary of myself.

"We beg parding," went on the rascal, stepping back and bowing. "We
had no intentions of being personal--meant no young gentleman in
partikilar. We _always_ make a point of asking a few questions in
general. Here comes mademoiselle, the celebrated tight-rope dancer,"
etc., etc., and the thousand eyes which had been glued to my scarlet
face were diverted to a new attraction.

"I'll thrash that scoundrel within an inch of his life," I said to
young Knickerbocker, who was sitting behind me beside his sister.

"You will have to whip the whole circus, then; these fellows all stand
by each other. Your policy is to let the matter drop."

"I'll whip the whole circus, then," I retorted, savagely.

"Please don't," said a soft voice, and I wilted under it.

"It maddens me to be always made ridiculous before _you_," I
whispered. "I'm a dreadfully unfortunate man, Miss Knick----"

"_Fire_!"

A frightful cry in such a place as that! Something flashed up
brightly--I saw flames about something in the ring--the crowd arose
from the benches--women screamed--men yelled.

"Sit still, Flora!" I heard young Knickerbocker say, sternly.

I thought of a million things in the thousandth part of a second--of
the flaming canvas, the deadly crush, the wild beasts, terrified and
breaking from their cages. It was folly, it was madness, to linger a
moment in hopes of the fire being subdued. I looked toward the
entrance--it was not far from us; a few people were going quickly out.
I was stronger than her brother; I could fight my way through any
crowd with that slight form held in one arm.

"_Fire_!"

I dallied with fate no longer. Grasping Flora by her slender waist, I
dragged her from her seat, and hurried her along through the
thickening throng. When she could no longer keep her feet. I supported
her entirely, elbowing, pushing, struggling with the maddest of them.
I reached the narrow exit--I fought my way through like a tiger.
Bleeding, exhausted, my hat gone, my coat torn from my back, I at last
emerged under the calm moonlight with my darling held to my panting
heart. Bearing her apart from the jostling crowd, I looked backward,
expecting to see the devouring flames stream high from the combustible
roof. As yet they had not broken through. I set my treasure gently
down on her little feet. Her bonnet was gone, her wealth of golden
hair hung disheveled about her pale face.

"Are we safe?" she murmured.

"Yes, thank Heaven, your precious life is saved!"

"Oh! where is my brother?"

"Here!" said a cold voice behind us, and young Knickerbocker coolly
took his sister on his own arm. "What in the name of folly did you
drag her off in that style for? A pretty-looking girl you are, Flora,
I must say!"

"But the fire!" I gasped.

"Was all out in less than a minute. A lamp exploded, but fortunately
set fire to nothing else. I never saw anything more utterly ridiculous
than you dragging my sister off through that crowd, and me sitting
still and laughing at you. I don't know whether to look on you as a
hero or a fool, Mr. Flutter."

"Look on me as a blunderer," I said meekly.

But the revulsion of feeling was too great; I felt myself turning sick
and faint, and when I knew anything again I was home in bed. And now I
owe Miss Flora a new bonnet as well as a little dog.

CHAPTER XII.

A LEAP FOR LIFE.

It is impossible to make an ordinary person understand the chaos of
mingled feelings with which I heard, two days after the circus
performance in which I had so large a share, that Blue-Eyes and
Company had departed for a tour of the watering-places--feelings of
anguish and relief mixed in about equal proportions. I madly loved
her, but I had known from the first that my love was hopeless, and the
thought of meeting her, after having made myself so ridiculous, was
torture. Therefore I felt relief that I was no longer in danger of
encountering the mocking laughter of those blue eyes, but I lost my
appetite. I moped, pined, grew pale, freckled, and listless.

"What's the use of wasting harvest apples making dumplings, when you
don't eat none, John?" asked my aunt, one day at dinner, after the
hands had left the table.

"Aunt," replied I, solemnly, "don't mock me with apple dumplings; they
may be light, but my heart is heavy."

"La, John, try a little east on your heart," said she, laughing--by
"east" she meant yeast, I suppose.

"No, aunt, not 'east,' but west. My mind is made up. I'm going out to
Colorado to fight the Indians."

She let the two-tined steel fork drop out of her hand.

"What will your ma say to that?" she gasped.

"I tell you I am going," was my firm reply, and I went.

Yes, I had long sighed to be a Juan Fernandez, or a Mount Washington
weatherologist, or something lonesome and sad, as my readers know.
Fighting Indians would be a terrible risky business; but compared to
facing the "girls of the period" it would be the merest play. I was
weary of a life that was all mistakes. "Better throw it away," I
thought, bitterly, "and give my scalp to dangle at a redskin's belt,
than make another one of my characteristic and preposterous blunders."

I had heard that Buffalo Bill was about to start for the Rocky
Mountains, and I wrote to New York asking permission to join him. He
answered that I could, if I was prepared to pay my own way. I
immediately bade my relatives farewell, went home, borrowed two
hundred dollars of father, told mother she was the only woman I wasn't
afraid of, kissed her good-bye, and met Buffalo Bill at the next large
town by appointment, he being already on his way West. I came home
_after dark_, and left again _before daylight_, and that was the last
I saw of my native village for some time.

"You don't let on yer much of a fighter?" asked the great scout, as he
saw me hunt all over six pockets and blush like a girl when the
conductor came for our tickets, and finally hand him a postal-card
instead of the bit of pasteboard he was impatiently waiting to punch.

"Oh, I guess I'll fight like a rat when it comes to that," I answered.
"I'm brave as a lion--only I'm bashful."

"Great tomahawks! is that yer disease?" groaned Bill.

"Yes, that's my trouble," I said, quite confidentially, for somehow I
seemed to get on with the brave hunter more easily than with the
starched minions of society. "I'm bashful, and I'm tired of civilized
life. I'm always putting my foot in it when I'm trying the hardest to
keep it out. Besides, I'm in love, and the girl I want don't want me.
It's either deliberate suicide or death on the plains with me."

"Precisely. I understand. _I've been thar!_" said Buffalo Bill; and we
got along well together from the first.

He encouraged the idea that in my present state of mind I would make a
magnificent addition to his chosen band; but I have since had some
reason to believe that he was leading me on for the sole purpose of
making a scarecrow of me--setting me up in some spot frequented by
the redskins, to become their target, while he and his comrades
scooped down from some ambush and wiped out a score or two of them
after I had perished at my post. I _suspect_ this was his plan. He
probably considered that so stupid a blunderer as I deserved no better
fate than to be used as a decoy. I think so myself. I have nothing
like the extravagant opinion of my own merits that I had when I first
launched out into the sea of human conflict.

At all events, Buffalo Bill was very kind to me all the way out to the
plains; he protected me as if I had been a timid young lady--took
charge of my tickets, escorted me to and fro from the station
eating-houses, almost cut up my food and eating it for me; and if a
woman did but glance in my direction, he scowled ferociously. Under
such patronage I got through without any accident.

It was the last day of our ride by rail. In the car which we helped to
occupy there was not a single female, and I was happy. A sense of
repose--of safety--stole over me, which even the knowledge that on the
morrow we were to take the war-path could not overcome.

"Oh," sighed I, "no women! This _is_ bliss!"

In about five minutes after I had made this remark the train drew up
at one of those little stations that mark off the road, and the scout
got off a minute to see a man. Fatal minute! In that brief sixty
seconds of time a female made her appearance in the car door, looked
all along the line, and, either because the seat beside me was the
only vacant one, or because she liked my looks, she came, and, without
so much as "by your leave," plumped down by me.

"This seat is engaged," I mildly remonstrated, growing as usual very
red.

She looked around at me, saw me blush, and began to titter.

"No, young man," said she, "I ain't engaged, but I told ma I bet I
would be before I got to Californy."

By this time my protector had returned; but, seeing a woman, and a
young woman at that, in his seat, he coolly ignored my imploring looks
and passed out into the next car.

"I'm going on the platform to smoke," he whispered.

"Be _you_ engaged?" continued my new companion.

"No, miss," I stammered.

"Ain't that lucky?" she giggled. "Who knows but what we may make up
our minds to hitch horses afore we get to Californy!" and she eyed me
all over without a bit of bashfulness, and seemed to admire me. My
goodness! this was worse than Alvira Slimmens!

"But I'm only going a few hours farther, and I'm not a marrying man,
and I'm bound for the Indian country," I murmured.

She remained silent a few moments, and I stole a side-glance at her.
She was a sharp-looking girl; her hair was cut short, and in the
morocco belt about her waist I saw the glitter of a small revolver.
Before I had finished these observations she turned suddenly toward
me, and her black eyes rested fully on me as she asked:

"Stranger, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"No--no, indeed, miss; not for worlds!" I murmured, startled.

"Well, I _do_," said she; "and mebbe you will, yet."

"I--I don't believe in anything of the kind," I reiterated, getting as
far as possible into my corner of the seat.

"La! you needn't be bashful," she went on, laughing; "I ain't a-going
to scourge you. Thar's room enough for both of us."

She subsided again, and again broke out:

"Bound for the Injun country, are you? So'm I. Whar do you get off?"

"I thought you said you were going to California?" I remarked, more
and more alarmed.

Then that girl with the revolver winked at me slyly.

"I _am_ going there--in the course of time; but I'm going by easy
stages. I ain't in no hurry. I told ma I'd be married by the time I
got there, and I mean to keep my word I may be six months going, yer
see."

Another silence, during which I mutely wondered how long it would take
Buffalo Bill to smoke his pipe.

"Don't believe in love at first sight! Sho!" resumed my companion.
"You ain't got much spunk, you ain't! Why, last week a girl and a
fellow got acquainted in this very car--this very seat, for all I
know--and afore they reached Lone Tree Station they was _engaged_.
There happened to be a clergyman going out to San Francisco on the
train, and he married 'em afore sunset, he did. When I heerd of that,
I said to myself, 'Sally Spitfire, why don't _you_ fix up and travel,
too? Who knows what may happen?'"

Unmerciful fates! had I fled from civilization only to fall a prey to
a female like this? It looked like it. There wasn't much fooling about
this damsel's love-making. Cold chills ran down my spine. My eye
avoided hers; I bit my nails and looked out of the window.

"Ain't much of a talker, are ye?" she ran on. "That just suits me. My
tongue is long enough for both of us. I always told ma I wouldn't
marry a great talker--there'd be one too many in the house."

I groaned in anguish of spirit; I longed to see a thousand wild and
painted warriors swoop down upon the train. I thought of our peaceful
dry-goods store at home, and I would gladly have sat down in another
butter-tub could I have been there. I even thought of earthquakes
with a sudden longing; but we were not near enough the Western shore
to hope for anything so good as an earthquake.

"I do wonder if thar's a clergyman on _this_ train," remarked the
young lady, reflectively.

"Supposing there is," I burst out, in desperation, "does any one need
his services? Is anybody going to die?"

"Not as I know of," was the meaning reply, while Miss Spitfire looked
at me firmly, placing her hand on her revolver as she spoke; "not if
people behave as they ought--like gentlemen--and don't go trifling
with an unprotected girl's affections in a railroad car."

"Who--who--who's been doing so?" I stammered.

"_You_ have, and I hold you accountable. You've got to marry me. I've
made up my mind. And when Sally Spitfire makes up her mind, she means
it. To refuse my hand is to insult me, and no man shall insult me with
safety. No, sir! not so long as I carry a Colt's revolver. I took a
fancy to you, young man, the minute my eyes rested on you. I froze to
you to oncst. I calculate to marry you right off. Will you inquire
around for a clergyman? or shall I do it myself?"

"I will go," I said, quickly.

"P'raps I'd better go 'long," she said, suspiciously, and as I arose
she followed suit, and we walked down the car together, she twice
asking in a loud voice if there was a minister on board.

"One in the next car," at last spoke a fellow, looking at us with a
broad grin.

We stepped out on the platform to enter the next car--now was my
time--now or never! I looked at the ground--it was tolerably level and
covered with grass; the train was running at moderate speed; there was
but one way to escape my tormentor. Making my calculations as
accurately as possible, I suddenly leaped from the steps of the car;
my head and feet seemed driven into one another; I rolled over and
over--thought I was dead, was surprised to find I was not dead, picked
myself up, shook myself.

"Ha! ha! ha!" I laughed hysterically; "I'm out of that scrape,
anyway!"

"Oh, are you?" said a voice behind me.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10