13. Drops Of Fire
By the time Cal Parker's next morning stint with the brush had been executed, a new resolve was added to those lately made. Not only must he prove himself to himself; also he must convince the blockaders that he was a wet customer, rather than the dry avenger they thought him. In so doing, he would make the popskull popper's daughter forget her ornery attitude toward himself and his work.
There wasn't a doubt that he could get and give "references." There were certain bar clerks, wine agents, and hotel managers of the "biggest" town who doubtless would vouch for him as a customer. Why, he might even add a psychopathist or tv/o for good measure, and the recommendation of a six week's sojourn at Professor William Huntoon's "health farm." Since it was for money that blockade was distilled and the double-outlaw risk run, with money he ought to be able to buy up any resentment over his victory.
As a plan of Immediate action, he would follow the road in the westerly direction of Abide-with-me Shortoff's tip. He would begin a thorough search of the entire region about the Metcalf lair.
In good spirit with his problem and himself, Calvin Parker set forth. No fear that his mount would lead back to the Shortoff place tightened his hold on the rein. He had become convinced on that first ride home that Teetotaler's bias gate would never fulfill any definite intention of the horse-mind. Indeed, so certain was he of this that he spoke in out-loud companionship:
"There are things about you, old boss, that might Interfere with a rider of a less philosophic trend than I. But me it gratifies to ponder that, no matter how progressive may be your ideas, you'd only run in circles if given your head. You're hopelessly lopsided, Tee. To get anywhere you need the guidance Oi two-eyed intelligence. That's me, you must understand - Cal Parker, at last seeing things with both lamps wide!"
The roads were few, but the trails devious. For two hours and more the mud-heavy hoofs carried mount and man through a dripping wilderness. The break In the monotony was a relief when Teetotaler stopped short, threw up his head, evidenced that he at least had full use of both ears.
The sound which had startled the horse loudened In approach - a husky human voice chanting a weird melody. Parker drew rein and waited where the mud-trail made a sharp turn around a clump of alders. Greatly to his surprise, as well as to his interest, the singer proved to be his first adviser in Dismal Gap, Cotton Eye Lee.
At recognition, the black seemed moved chiefly by fright.
"Get you behind me, cap'n!" he exclaimed, both hands upraised, as If In defense.
On finding his path effectively blocked by a sidewise presentation of the pinto, he turned and began scuttling along the backward trail.
"Hold up, Cotton I There's somewhat I wish to say to you ! You were friendly enough on starting back to Dismal the other day. Did you decide afterward that the recompense wasn't sufficient?"
"Laws, no I But I'm a changed nigger since."
*Tou don't look It."
The white-flecked eyeball rolled, as also the sootdark one. "Changed In my heart, cap'n. I was dry as a hunk of charcoal then; now It's as much as my life's worth to mention sap to you, not speaking of my job."
Parker was doubly Interested. Out of consideration for the nerves of his quondam black guide, he rode nearer and lowered his voice.
"What Is this job, and who started the irrigation of your arid veins?"
"Irrigation?" murmured Cotton Eye, fascinated, despite his fear. "Old Tom Metcalf finds he can't get along without my Irrigation, so he sends Rex Currie to pry me off'n Colonel Dry Dryden. When that sure-enough devil sets himself to pry anybody
off'n anything But, say, cap'n, I got to be
shanking It along!"
The New Yorker was of another mind. With some ostentation and just In time to catch the tall of the negro's glance, he produced a bill-fold from his pocket, selected from Its thick contents a crisp five-dollar note.
"Your Inherent discernment should have told you that there is no harm In me," he began grandiosely. "This token in my hand as well as others in my pocket ought to convince you that there's a whole lot of good. If they have told you to beware of me as a revenuer. Cotton Eye, they have basely imposed upon the credulity which in you is so - so - I might say, so circumambient."
"You-all might - that's plumb right, cap'n. My own mother couldn't never deny but what I'm mighty circumambient," Interjected the black, both fingers and ears twitching from cupidity.
"What I'd like to exchange this token for Is what I wanted that first day down in Dismal Gap and failed to get from Postmaster SImms - a quart of bottled kick for my stomach's sake."
The mental struggle of the negro was obvious. He blinked vigorously In his regard of the bank-note. He took a step forward. His hands clutched the air. Then an Imagined sound In the woods broke temptation's spell. Whirling about In the mud, he began a precipitate retreat, sputtering protestations as he went.
To Parker his words came back disjointedly.
"Get behind me, cap'n. See you-all negotiate yourself on yon side of the creek. I ain't taking anything away from you, and I ain't bringing anything back."
With shuffling gait he was gone - gulped by the brush.
Astride Teetotaler, pursuit looked unfeasible to Parker. He seriously doubted, furthermore, whether the entire collection of bills in his wallet would overcome the black's primal craving. He must use his persuasions upon some one higher in the protectorate of the illicit traffic before he could hope to obtain the wherewithal for the test of his reform.
Judging it to be a full hour before dark, he decided to continue "projecting." The more of neighboring area he covered, the less there would remain for to-morrow.
Perhaps half an hour later, the piebald's unshod feet, padding soundlessly In the heavy trail, brought out upon a creek which Parker assumed to be Roaring Fork. As he was debating whether to cross from this, the "yon" side, to the other, he saw the back of a man who was trudging away from him up a feeder of the main stream. Even In the dusk, and at the distance, the native showed to be excep| tlonally tall and broad of shoulder. His leisurely stride and omission of backward glances augured that he did not suspect any surveillance. A sack or pouch of some sort was slung over his one shoulder.
This pack It was that held suggestlveness for Parker - the possibility that it might hold corn or rye on Its way to some blockade process. He decided to follow afoot. Joining the two ends of Teetotaler's reins in a hard knot, he threw them over a sapling; then, with what stealth he could command, started after the disappearing man.
The "branch" had a sharp fall, as he discovered, once he began following it through the shrubbery. It seemed to be fleeing in noisy trepidation from the frown of the largest mountain, which Parker decided must be the Vernaluska of regional fame for which the daughter of the Metcalfs had been named.
In the looming shadows and tangle of undergrowth he presently lost sight of the pursued; but only for a moment. On straining his eyes upward, he was rewarded by a glimpse of the tall figure disappearing Into a rough-board shack which stood on a ledge of rock several yards to the right.
Excitement caught Parker as he crouched behind a storm-flung boulder, needlessly, perhaps, in the thickening gloom. Had he at last come upon a still? Another moment, light from within outlined the door and window of the structure.
With a stealth of tread which he felt any Indian might have envied, he circuitously approached the smaller of these apertures, which showed to be Innocent of glass or sash. The going was precarious and the window on the down-hill slant. He crouched low when close enough to see Inside.
The scene was not what he had hoped or expected. None of the equipment for the manufacture of "bumxblings" showed In the hght of the rosin torch, made dim and uncertain by frequent sputtering. Of such furnishings as were, there stood out In best detail a stone fireplace directly beneath the flare. In the ashes of the hearth knelt the man with the sack. His great shoulders were bent forward to aid the groping of his hands along the sooty stones of the chimney back. His hat had been discarded, revealing a leonine mass of tawny hair. A rifle lay upon the floor beside one bent knee.
Old Tom Metcalf himself It was.
The Northerner recognized him with an admixture of triumph and shock. He felt his way farther forward among the loose rocks which littered the slant of the ledge. He was in time to witness the removal of a stone from the chimney and Its placement upon the hearth. When the groping hands again emerged they held one of the tin lard-pails so Innumerable In a region where fats are the prevailing condiment of most things culinary.
The patriarch turned on the hearth, placed the pail In the fullest light of the flare, into it dipped both huge hands. They reappeared with something falling through their fingers that looked like drops of liquid fire.
Over and over again the bluish tongues lapped the soot-blacked palms, ran down the fingers, with a tinkling sound dripped back Into the pail. Yet they showed not to burn, for the old man's expression was entranced as he bent low over them. His lips began to move and mumble In a sort of doggerel, | several connected utterances of which reached the ears outside.
"Blue flames, you-all are mine - you've got to be mine. Leave them sneer, leave them tap their skulls. We'll singe their sneers one day. You've got the power I crave. You can open the gates of the world to my gal. Won't you do it for Verney, If not for me? She's young and she's got power like you. Why hide you-all from Tom, when he's going to git you whether or no? Why scorch his peace of mind when he "
Whimpering choked his words. He sank his face Into double handfuls of the irrldescent, tinkling, trickling fire; continued to mutter and sob. His shoulders shook, as If from man-sized emotion. His voice reduced into a wheedling, unintelligible, senile whine.
Parker, pressing closer, In the hope of distinguishing more of these garbled mutterlngs, unfortunately put his weight upon a rounded stone and lurched forward, straight Into the window frame. In his effort to stay the fall, both hands shot out, so that, when his forward movement ceased, both arm-pits were as firmly, cruelly wedged as though forced Into a straight-jacket.
On raising his head he found his predicament pointed by the round mouth of a rifle barrel. Despite the undoubted surprise of his appearance on the scene, the hands which held the weapon were steady. In the shifty torch-light Old Tom's face showed to be twisting with fury.
"Hell's banjer - the slick!" he cried. ''Stop wrenching - you can't heft loose. What be you-uns hunting this p.m.? Do you call me bird, beast or fish? You hear me asking of you. Best be thinking quick or I " The tightening of rifle-alm
completed his suggestion.
Parker ceased his struggles to be free from the vise Into which his awkwardness had flung him, advised by the point of the gun.
''Let me explain my position, Mr. Metcalf."
" 'Pears to me that don't need no explaining."
"But It does, sir; rather, the Incentive that got me Into this somewhat tight place. You folks around here have a mistaken Idea of me. I am seeking liquor, yes; but for my own use. I am able and willing to pay well for "
"You'll pay, by cripes!"
The blond patriarch's Interruption was an angry roar.
"I'd ought to make you pay this minute, by right,
for spying on - on " He glanced back at the
hearth, Innocent of lard pail, of mysterious flames, of the cobblestone taken from the chimney-back. Marvelously swift had been his restoration at first hint of alarm. His expression was less fierce as he returned to the window's prisoner. "But there's smarter than what I am on your trail. You'll get yourself run outen these parts, I reckon, without my man-killing you."
"I reckon I won't, If you have any justice In your system. This mountainside Isn't your property, anyhow, Is it?" Parker protested, the while guardedly working one shoulder upward.
The effect of the question upon the old man was unnerving. The rifle again raised and a steady eye squinted along its barrel.
" What's it you say?" he bellowed. "I ain't never been no man-killer, but I'll start with you, if you pester me with another question. 'Tain't a matter of whose land this is - you got no right prowling over It. If you wriggle your right side down Instead of up you can heft loose. The winder's warped atop - has been plumb squaw-wlfted ever since the Bald's last conniption fit."
Parker found these instructions practical. Loosened from the grip of the slanted frame, he turned to urge his contested explanations upon the mountaineer.
But In the same split-minute two disconcerting things occurred. The flare went out and a bullet tore through the soft crown of his fedora - he felt the press of it lift his hair.
"That means you git and stay git!" amphfied a ravening voice from the pitch-black Inside.
Under all circumstances this appealed to Calvin Parker as sensible advice. He got.