Westerfelt | Page 7

taking long steps, and now and then jumping over an
obstacle instead of going around it. And when he had reached the gate
he leaned on it and stared straight at Westerfelt, as if he had lost his
power of speech. Then it was that Westerfelt remarked that Slogan's
face looked troubled, and that a general air of agitation rested on him.
"I wish you'd step out, if you please, John," he said, after a moment,
"I've been walkin' so blamed fast I've mighty nigh lost my breath. I'm
blowin' like a stump-suckin' hoss."
Westerfelt went to him.
"What is the matter, Slogan?" he questioned, in a tone of concern.
"We've had big trouble over our way," panted Slogan. "Sally fell off'n
the foot-log into the creek this mornin' an' was drowned."
"Drowned! You don't mean that, Slogan!" cried Westerfelt, in horror;
"surely there is some mistake!"
"No; she's as dead as a mackerel," Slogan answered. "She wasn't
diskivered tell she'd been under water fer a good half-hour. She started,
as usual, about daybreak, over to her cousin, Molly Dugan's, fer a
bucket o' fresh milk, an' we never missed 'er until it was time she was
back, an' then we went all the way to Dugan's before we found out she
hadn't been thar at all. Then her ma tuck up a quar notion, an' helt to it
like a leech fer a long time. My hoss had got out o' the stable an'
strayed off some'rs in the woods, an' Sally's mother firmly believed the
gal had run off. I don't know why she 'lowed Sally would do sech a
thing, but she did, and jest paced up an' down the yard yellin' an' takin'
on an' beggin' us to go fetch her back, so that none of us at the house
thought o' draggin' the hole at the foot-log. But Bill Dugan did, an' soon
come with the news whar she was at. Then her ma jest had a spasm. I
railly believe on my soul she cussed God an' all futurity. She raved till
she was black in the face."
"Then there is--is no doubt about it?" gasped Westerfelt. "She is dead?"

"Of course she's dead," answered Slogan; "an' bein' as my hoss ain't to
be had, I 'lowed I'd try to borrow one o' yore'n to go order the coffin."
Slogan here displayed a piece of twine which he had wound into a coil.
"I've got the exact length o' the body. I 'lowed that would be the best
way. I reckon they kin tell me at the store how much play a corpse ort
to have at each end. I've noticed that coffins always look longer, a sight,
than the pusson ever did that was to occupy 'em, but I thought ef I tuck
the exact measure--"
"Here's the stable key," interrupted Westerfelt, with a shudder. "Take
any horse you want. You'll find saddles and bridles in the shed."
Slogan turned away, and Westerfelt walked back to the veranda. "My
God!" he groaned; "why don't I know it was accident? If it was not,
then may the Lord have mercy on my soul!"
He went into his room and threw himself on his bed and stared fixedly
at the ceiling, a thousand conflicting thoughts crowding upon him.
Presently he heard Slogan talking to the horse in the yard, and went out
just as he was mounting.
"I wisht you'd hand me a switch, John," he said. "I don't want to be all
day goin' an' comin'. I'll be blamed ef I ain't afeerd them two ol' cats 'll
be a-fightin' an' scratchin' 'fore I get back. They had a time of it while
the gal was alive, an' I reckon thar 'll be no peace at all now."
"Does Mrs. Dawson blame anybody--or--or--?" Westerfelt paused as if
he hardly knew how to finish.
"Oh, I reckon the ol' woman does feel a leetle hard at us--my wife in
particular, an'--an' some o' the rest, I reckon. You see, thar was a lot
said at the quiltin' yesterday about Lizzie Lithicum a-cuttin' of Sally out,
an' one thing or other, an' a mother's calculated to feel bitter about sech
talk, especially when her only child is laid out as cold an' stiff as a
poker."
Again Westerfelt shuddered; his face was ghastly; his mouth was
drawn and his lips quivered; there was a desperate, appealing, shifting

of his eyes.
"I reckon Mrs. Dawson feels hurt at me," he said, tentatively.
Slogan hesitated a moment before speaking.
"Well," he said, as if he felt some sort of apology should come from
him, "maybe she does--a little, John, but the Lord knows you cayn't
expect much else at sech a time, an' when she's under sech a strain."
"Did