The Victim | Page 5

He said it in a hundred ways. His wide, deep, lustrous eyes,
shining with intelligence, had told him! So had the touch of his big
warm mouth in many a friendly pony kiss. His pony could laugh, too.
He had seen the smiles flicker about his mouth and eyes as he
pretended to bite his bare legs. How could any human being be cruel or
mean to a horse! His pony had given him new courage and conscious
power. He was the master of Nature now when they flew along the trail
through the deep woods. His horse had given him wings.
He looked up into the star-sown sky, and promised God to be kind and
gentle to all the dumb world for the love of the beautiful friend He had
given.

III
THE HERMITAGE
At the last stand on the banks of the winding Tennessee, the Major sat
up late in eager discussion about Old Hickory with an enthusiastic
Tennesseean. The ladies had retired, and the Boy listened with quiet

eagerness to the talk.
"Waal, we're goin' ter make Andrew Jackson President anyhow,
Major!" the Tennesseean drawled.
"I'm afraid they'll beat us," the Major answered, with a shake of his
head.
"How'll they beat us when we git ready ter make the fight?"
"Old Hickory says himself, he ain't fit--"
"I reckon we know more about that than he does," persisted the man
from Tennessee.
"The aristocrats don't think so--"
"What t'ell they got agin him? Ain't he the biggest man in this country
to-day? Didn't he lick Spain and England both at Pensacola and didn't
he finish the Red Coats at New Orleans--"
"They say his education's poor--"
"He knowed enough to make this country cock o' the walk--what more
do they want--damn 'em!"
"They say he swears--"
The Tennesseean roared:
"Waal, if all the cussin' men vote fur him--he'll sho be elected!"
"The real trouble--" the Major said thoughtfully, "is what the
scandal-mongers keep saying about his wife--"
"He's killed one son-of-a-gun about that already, an' they better let him
alone--"
"That's just it, my friend: he killed that skunk in a duel and it's not the

only one he has fought either. Old Hickory's got the temper of the
devil."
"Waal, thar ain't nothin' in them lies about his wife--"
The Major lifted his hand and moved closer:
"There's just enough truth at the bottom of it all to give the liars the
chance they need to talk forever--"
"I never knowed thar wuz ary grain er truth in hit, at all--"
"There is, though," the Major interrupted, "and that's where we're going
to have a big fight on our hands when it comes to the rub. This Lewis
Robards, her first husband, was a quarrelsome cuss. Every man that
looked at his wife, he swore was after her, and if she lifted her eyes, he
was sure she was guilty. There was no divorce law in Virginia and
Robards petitioned the Legislature to pass an Act of Divorce in his
favor. The dog swore in this petition that his wife had deserted him and
was living with Andrew Jackson. He was boarding with her mother, the
widow Donelson. The Legislature passed the Act, but it only authorized
the Courts of the Territory of Kentucky to try the case, and grant the
divorce if the facts were proven.
"Robards never went to Court with it for over two years, and Jackson,
under the impression that the Legislature had given the divorce,
married Rachel Robards at Natchez in August, 1791.
"Two years later, the skunk slips into Court and gets his divorce!
"As quick as Old Hickory heard this, he married her over again. There
was a mighty hullabaloo kicked up about it by the politicians. They
tried to run Jackson out of the country--the little pups who were afraid
of him. He challenged the leader of this pack of hounds, and shot him
dead--"
"Served him right, too," broke in the Tennesseean, removing his pipe,
with a nod of his shaggy head.

"But it don't help him on the way to Washington!" The Major grunted,
suddenly rising and dismissing the subject for the night.
The Boy's curiosity was kindled to see the great man whose name had
filled the world.
The distance to Nashville was quickly covered. The Major pressed
straight through the town without pause and drew rein at the General's
gate.
The welcome they received from their distinguished host was so simple,
so genuine, so real, the Boy's heart went out in loyal admiration.
The house was a big rambling structure of logs, in front of which stood
a stately grove of magnificent forest trees. Behind it stretched the grain
and cotton fields.
Nothing could surpass the unaffected and perfect courtesy with which
the General welcomed