Christmas Eve on Lonesome | Page 4

and at once a plan of action began to whirl
in his little round head. Before man and beast were in full view the
work was done, the hands were unclasped, and Flitter Bill, with a
chuckle, had slowly risen, and was waddling back to his desk in the
store.
It was a pompous old buck who was bearing down on the old gray
horse, and under the slouch hat with its flapping brim--one Mayhall
Wells, by name. There were but few strands of gray in his thick
blue-black hair, though his years were rounding half a century, and he
sat the old nag with erect dignity and perfect ease. His bearded mouth
showed vanity immeasurable, and suggested a strength of will that his
eyes--the real seat of power--denied, for, while shrewd and keen, they
were unsteady. In reality, he was a great coward, though strong as an
ox, and whipping with ease every man who could force him into a fight.
So that, in the whole man, a sensitive observer would have felt a
peculiar pathos, as though nature had given him a desire to be, and no
power to become, and had then sent him on his zigzag way, never to
dream wherein his trouble lay.
"Mornin', gentlemen!"
"Mornin', Mayhall!"
All nodded and spoke except Hence Sturgill on the wagon-tongue, who
stopped whittling, and merely looked at the big man with narrowing
eyes.
Tallow Dick, a yellow slave, appeared at the corner of the store, and the

old buck beckoned him to come and hitch his horse. Flitter Bill had
reappeared on the stoop with a piece of white paper in his hand. The
lank messenger sagged in the doorway behind him, ready to start for
home.
"Mornin' Captain Wells," said Bill, with great respect. Every man
heard the title, stopped his tongue and his knife-blade, and raised his
eyes; a few smiled--Hence Sturgill grinned. Mayhall stared, and Bill's
left eye closed and opened with lightning quickness in a most
portentous wink. Mayhall straightened his shoulders--seeing the game,
as did the crowd at once: Flitter Bill was impressing that messenger in
case he had some dangerous card up his sleeve.
"Captain Wells," Bill repeated significantly, "I'm sorry to say yo' new
uniform has not arrived yet. I am expecting it to-morrow." Mayhall
toed the line with soldierly promptness.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, suh--sorry to hear it, suh," he said, with
slow, measured speech. "My men are comin' in fast, and you can hardly
realize er--er what it means to an old soldier er--er not to have--er--"
And Mayhall's answering wink was portentous.
"My friend here is from over in Kaintucky, and the Harlan Home
Gyard over there, he says, is a-making some threats."
Mayhall laughed.
"So I have heerd--so I have heerd." He turned to the messenger. "We
shall be ready fer 'em, suh, ready fer 'em with a thousand men--one
thousand men, suh, right hyeh in the Gap--right hyeh in the Gap. Let
'em come on--let 'em come on!" Mayhall began to rub his hands
together as though the conflict were close at hand, and the mountaineer
slapped one thigh heartily. "Good for you! Give 'em hell!" He was
about to slap Mayhall on the shoulder and call him "pardner," when
Flitter Bill coughed, and Mayhall lifted his chin.
"Captain Wells?" said Bill.

"Captain Wells," repeated Mayhall with a stiff salutation, and the
messenger from over Black Mountain fell back with an apologetic
laugh. A few minutes later both Mayhall and Flitter Bill saw him
shaking his head, as he started homeward toward the Gap. Bill laughed
silently, but Mayhall had grown grave. The fun was over and he
beckoned Bill inside the store.
"Misto Richmond," he said, with hesitancy and an entire change of tone
and manner, "I am afeerd I ain't goin' to be able to pay you that little
amount I owe you, but if you can give me a little mo' time--"
"Captain Wells," interrupted Bill slowly, and again Mayhall stared hard
at him, "as betwixt friends, as have been pussonal friends fer nigh onto
twenty year, I hope you won't mention that little matter to me
ag'in--until I mentions it to you."
"But, Misto Richmond, Hence Sturgill out thar says as how he heerd
you say that if I didn't pay--"
"Captain Wells," interrupted Bill again and again Mayhall stared
hard--it was strange that Bill could have formed the habit of calling him
"Captain" in so short a time--"yestiddy is not to-day, is it? And to-day
is not to-morrow? I axe you--have I said one word about that little
matter to-day? Well, borrow not from yestiddy nor to-morrow, to make
trouble fer to-day. There is other things fer to-day, Captain Wells."
Mayhall turned here.
"Misto Richmond," he said, with great earnestness, "you