The Crossing | Page 7

the
thing became grim earnest. At length, by some accident rather than my
own strength, both his shoulders touched the ground. I released him.
But he was on his feet in an instant and at me again like a wildcat.
"Andy won't stay throwed," shouted a boy. And before I knew it he had
my shoulders down in a puddle. Then I went for him, and affairs were
growing more serious than a wrestle, when Smally, fancying himself
safe, and no doubt having a grudge, shouted out:--
"Tell him he slobbers, Davy."
Andy DID slobber. But that was the end of me, and the beginning of
Smally. Andy left me instantly, not without an intimation that he would
come back, and proceeded to cover Smally with red clay and blood.
However, in the midst of this turmoil the schoolmaster arrived, haled
both into the schoolhouse, held court, and flogged Andrew with
considerable gusto. He pronounced these words afterwards, with great
solemnity:--

"Andrew Jackson, if I catch ye fightin' once more, I'll be afther givin'
ye lave to lave the school."
I parted from Andy at noon with real regret. He was the first boy with
whom I had ever had any intimacy. And I admired him: chiefly, I fear,
for his fluent use of profanity and his fighting qualities. He was a merry
lad, with a wondrous quick temper but a good heart. And he seemed
sorry to say good-by. He filled my pockets with June apples--unripe, by
the way--and told me to remember him when I got TILL Charlestown.
I remembered him much longer than that, and usually with a shock of
surprise.

CHAPTER III
CHARLESTOWN
Down and down we went, crossing great rivers by ford and ferry, until
the hills flattened themselves and the country became a long stretch of
level, broken by the forests only; and I saw many things I had not
thought were on the earth. Once in a while I caught glimpses of great
red houses, with stately pillars, among the trees. They put me in mind
of the palaces in Bunyan, their windows all golden in the morning sun;
and as we jogged ahead, I pondered on the delights within them. I saw
gangs of negroes plodding to work along the road, an overseer riding
behind them with his gun on his back; and there were whole cotton
fields in these domains blazing in primrose flower,--a new plant here,
so my father said. He was willing to talk on such subjects. But on
others, and especially our errand to Charlestown, he would say nothing.
And I knew better than to press him.
One day, as we were crossing a dike between rice swamps spread with
delicate green, I saw the white tops of wagons flashing in the sun at the
far end of it. We caught up with them, the wagoners cracking their
whips and swearing at the straining horses. And lo! in front of the
wagons was an army,--at least my boyish mind magnified it to such.

Men clad in homespun, perspiring and spattered with mud, were
straggling along the road by fours, laughing and joking together. The
officers rode, and many of these had blue coats and buff
waistcoats,--some the worse for wear. My father was pushing the white
mare into the ditch to ride by, when one hailed him.
"Hullo, my man," said he, "are you a friend to Congress?"
"I'm off to Charlestown to leave the lad," said my father, "and then to
fight the Cherokees."
"Good," said the other. And then, "Where are you from?"
"Upper Yadkin," answered my father. "And you?"
The officer, who was a young man, looked surprised. But then he
laughed pleasantly.
"We're North Carolina troops, going to join Lee in Charlestown," said
he. "The British are sending a fleet and regiments against it."
"Oh, aye," said my father, and would have passed on. But he was made
to go before the Colonel, who plied him with many questions. Then he
gave us a paper and dismissed us.
We pursued our journey through the heat that shimmered up from the
road, pausing now and again in the shade of a wayside tree. At times I
thought I could bear the sun no longer. But towards four o'clock of that
day a great bank of yellow cloud rolled up, darkening the earth save for
a queer saffron light that stained everything, and made our very faces
yellow. And then a wind burst out of the east with a high mournful note,
as from a great flute afar, filling the air with leaves and branches of
trees. But it bore, too, a savor that was new to me,--a salt savor, deep
and fresh, that I drew down into my lungs. And I knew that we were
near