A Knight of the Cumberland | Page 9

for his own. Uncle Tommie
had whispered this, and the Hon. Samuel raised himself high on both
toes while the expectant crowd, on the verge of a roar, waited--as did
Uncle Joshua, with a sickly smile.
``Why did your Uncle Josh come among you? Because he was
hoop-poled away from home.'' Then came the roar-- and the Hon.
Samuel had to quell it with uplifted hand.
``And did your Uncle Joshua marry a mountain wife? No I He didn't
think any of your mountain women were good enough for him, so he
slips down into the settlemints and STEALS one. And now,
fellow-citizens, that is just what I'm here for --I'm looking for a nice
mountain girl, and I'm going to have her.'' Again the Hon. Samuel had
to still the roar, and then he went on quietly to show how they must
lose the Court-House site if they did not send him to the legislature, and
how, while they might not get it if they did send him, it was their only
hope to send only him. The crowd had grown somewhat hostile again,
and it was after one telling period, when the Hon. Samuel stopped to
mop his brow, that a gigantic mountaineer rose in the rear of the crowd:
``Talk on, stranger; you're talking sense. I'll trust ye. You've got big
ears!''
Now the Hon. Samuel possessed a primordial talent that is rather rare
in these physically degenerate days. He said nothing, but stood quietly
in the middle of the road. The eyes of the crowd on either side of the
road began to bulge, the lips of all opened with wonder, and a
simultaneous burst of laughter rose around the Hon. Samuel Budd. A
dozen men sprang to their feet and rushed up to him--looking at those
remarkable ears, as they gravely wagged to and fro. That settled things,
and as we left, the Hon. Sam was having things his own way, and on
the edge of the crowd Uncle Tommie Hendricks was shaking his head:

``I tell ye, boys, he ain't no jackass even if he can flop his ears.''
At the river we started upstream, and some impulse made me turn in
my saddle and look back. All the time I had had an eye open for the
young mountaineer whose interest in us seemed to be so keen. And
now I saw, standing at the head of a gray horse, on the edge of the
crowd, a tall figure with his hands on his hips and looking after us. I
couldn't be sure, but it looked like the Wild Dog.

IV
CLOSE QUARTERS
Two hours up the river we struck Buck. Buck was sitting on the fence
by the roadside, barefooted and hatless.
``How-dye-do?'' I said.
``Purty well,'' said Buck.
``Any fish in this river?''
``Several,'' said Buck. Now in mountain speech, ``several'' means
simply ``a good many.''
``Any minnows in these branches?''
``I seed several in the branch back o' our house.''
``How far away do you live?''
``Oh, 'bout one whoop an' a holler.'' If he had spoken Greek the Blight
could not have been more puzzled. He meant he lived as far as a man's
voice would carry with one yell and a holla.
``Will you help me catch some?'' Buck nodded.
``All right,'' I said, turning my horse up to the fence. ``Get on behind.''

The horse shied his hind quarters away, and I pulled him back.
``Now, you can get on, if you'll be quick.'' Buck sat still.
``Yes,'' he said imperturbably; ``but I ain't quick.'' The two girls
laughed aloud, and Buck looked surprised.
Around a curving cornfield we went, and through a meadow which
Buck said was a ``nigh cut.'' From the limb of a tree that we passed
hung a piece of wire with an iron ring swinging at its upturned end. A
little farther was another tree and another ring, and farther on another
and another.
``For heaven's sake, Buck, what are these things?''
``Mart's a-gittin' ready fer a tourneyment.''
``A what?''
``That's whut Mart calls hit. He was over to the Gap last Fourth o' July,
an' he says fellers over thar fix up like Kuklux and go a-chargin' on
hosses and takin' off them rings with a ash-stick--`spear,' Mart calls hit.
He come back an' he says he's a-goin' to win that ar tourneyment next
Fourth o' July. He's got the best hoss up this river, and on Sundays him
an' Dave Branham goes a-chargin' along here a-picking off these rings
jus' a-flyin'; an' Mart can do hit, I'm tellin' ye. Dave's mighty good
hisself, but he ain't nowhar 'longside o' Mart.''
This was strange. I had told the Blight about our Fourth of July, and
how on the Virginia side the ancient