Mixed Faces

The station, with its menace, had by now been left behind in the whirl of snow, and the heavy dusk of twilight. Jimmy was breathing again, and cheerful, having escaped the most imminent peril. The horse was loping steadily up the street as if imbued with the hope of a warm stall in a warm stable.

"Turn to the right! The right! That's the way," insisted the boy, and Jimmy, after a single backward glance to convince him that they had escaped the mob, said, "Son, I don't know these roads as well as you do. Maybe it'd be better if you took the lines. But whatever you do, keep going. Mr. Wade says you are to hurry – that is for the first few miles. You see, he's afraid old Bill will catch cold if he's not kept moving, and they tell me that it's an awful thing for a horse to catch cold on a day like this for the want of exercise. Make him hustle!"

CHAPTER VII

And Bill hustled them through the outskirts of the town, and into a road that was fairly good going, and out to where snowladen fields and snow weighted trees were on either hand before Jimmy's compassion swayed him to suggest that after all there was no very great hurry.

"I'm sort of glad of that," commented the boy. "Bill's about winded. He's my friend, and – and I don't like to see him puffin' like that. I'm right glad you'd just as soon slow down. I was worried about Bill."

Jimmy thought about Bovolarapus, and then of Bill, and liked that boy.

"To-night," he said, as he settled himself into his seat, "Bill shall have a box of chocolate caramels for dinner. And – say! son, are you cold?"

"Not much," said the boy, looking up at him with a grin. "Just a little; but I keep thinking about that fortune I'm to get and that sort of keeps me warm."

Jimmy opened his overcoat and gathered his driver inside, and pulled up the tattered lap robe and said cheerfully, "Sporting life, this, eh?" But at the same time he was thinking regretfully of his ill-spent afternoon, and more than ever convinced that jests of a public nature were not worth while. And yet, in the midst of his personal discomfort, he did not miss the enjoyment of a chuckle at the thought of what he had left behind, and that fine harvest which the pompous Judge must reap. In fact, he began to find a certain pleasure in his adventure; for the snow stopped, the storm clouds moved restlessly, becoming ever more pallid, and then the newly risen moon broke through and made all his surroundings beautiful.

"The only things I miss," he muttered, "are sleigh bells and – Mary Allen!"

"Mary Allen? Who's she?" The voice of the boy disturbed him.

"Mary Allen," said Jimmy grimly, "is a girl who isn't crazy to vote. She likes horses. Probably she couldn't throw a brick. I've an idea she never had a vote, and that if she had one she'd sell it as being the quickest and easiest way to get rid of it. And – I hope to the Lord that Mary Allen never visited Yimville before now, because if she hasn't, I'll do all I can to spare her from ever going there in the future!"

"I can't seem to remember that haystack over there," said the boy, with entire irrelevance, "but there's a house with a light in it, and – maybe we'd best ask if we're on the right road. They'll tell you."

"Right road? Aren't you sure about it?" asked Jimmy, perturbed.

"Well, you see, it looks different with all this snow and – better ask 'em in there, I think."

"You go and ask them."

"I got ter watch old Bill. He runs away sometimes."

"I'll hold him. You ask."

The boy got down and advanced to the house where, after a time, a woman appeared in response to his rapping and then, to point out the way, came to the gate and thence to the road. She pointed with an extended arm to the skyline and gave cautions about land marks at a point where three roads met.

"If you'd taken the first road to the left instead of the second to the right, down below there, you'd have been on the main track; but you're not more than a half mile out of the way. And – " She stopped, suddenly bent forward, and peered at Jimmy. "Oh, it's you, is it?" she said with a toss of contempt. "You that believes women ain't got sense enough to vote! Oh, I was down to the court house this afternoon and heard you! And what's more, I can tell you it was mighty good for your precious hide that they didn't catch you. If I'd known that it was you that wanted to find the road to Mountain City I'd 'a' bit my tongue off rather than let it tell you anything at all, you old puffed up smart Alec! The only truth you ever told in your life, I'll bet, was when you admitted that all lawyers is a lot of thieves. You, a judge! But let me tell you that the women will get votes, and that when they do you couldn't be elected judge at a chicken show. You're a mean-minded pig of a man with no more manners than a pole cat! That's what the women who heard you to-day think about you!"

And with that she turned, banged the gate, and hastened toward her house where, in turn, she banged the door. Jimmy, who had said never a word, but had gradually withered into the farthest corner of his seat, said, "Whew! She likes me all right! I could tell that by what she said."

"Be you the man that made the speech in the court house?" asked the boy, as he climbed into the sleigh and started Bill into action.

"My son," said Jimmy, "I am that very unfortunate man. But you don't care, do you? You don't give a hang about voting, do you?"

"Not to-night," admitted the boy. "All I'm thinkin' about is how I'm to get that ten dollars. It's a lot of money, ten dollars is. And – and," he looked up at his companion rather speculatively, and added in a burst of boyish confidence – "I don't think you're so bad as that woman said, anyhow. I think I like you!"

Jimmy, feeling for the moment rather friendless, vented a fervent "Lord bless you, son! We'll keep on being friends."

It began to seem to Jimmy that he was in for a chapter of accidents and hardships. A snaffle gave away and they had to get out into the deep snow and make repairs with fingers that were cold before the operation was complete. They came to a stretch of unbroken road where the snow was so deep that he had to climb out and break trail with the drift well above his knees.

They toiled along for another mile then Jimmy decided that it was rather a lonesome place; but philosophized that any place without either a crowd, or Mary Allen, would be lonesome, and then further cheered himself with the reflection that if he had Mary Allen with him he wouldn't miss the crowd, or that if he had a crowd he'd not for a moment miss Mary Allen, all of which made it rather a cheerful if paradoxical world. Now that he had escaped the clutches of the irate militants of Yimville, it wasn't such a bad predicament after all.

"Hello! What's that?" he exclaimed, sitting up with a jerk, as the boy pulled the reins and yelled a loud "Whoa, Bill!"

It seemed as if something had gone awry with the prow of their ship. They climbed out to investigate.

"They's a hame strap busted and Bill's loosin' all his furniture," explained the boy.

They got Bill's rig off to repair it as best they could. Again their fingers got cold and their feet got cold, and the air got colder. Bill was the only one who didn't seem to mind the delay and acted as if he rather enjoyed a vacation.

"Now we're off again," said Jimmy, as they resumed their journey. "After all, breaking a hame strap's nothing. Bill gets extra feed for that. Anybody that can work hard enough to bust a hame strap has my approval. I never did. You see, son, it was in a way rather lucky, because I'd never have guessed what a good old nag Bill is if he hadn't proved it by snapping that strap! People most always get acquainted through accident. I certainly made a lot of acquaintances to-day! Also a lot of people got acquainted with me who might never, never, never have really known just what I was like!"

This pleasant reflection occupied his time for another mile, and then suddenly Bill stumbled, his head went down and his heels flew up, he seemed to stand on his neck for an instant, and then became a kicking, obstreperous heap of horse and harness on the snow.

"Hooray!" shouted Jimmy, again springing into action. "Hooray! I'll sit on his head, son, while you see how many pieces you can unfasten in his harness. Keep away from his heels. Tackle his belly band first. That's the ticket! Now see if you can get the tugs loose. Got 'em? Now stand back. William, arise!! Whoo-e-e! Come up like baking powder or patent yeast, don't you, Old Sport? There! There! Steady now. You're all right. Concentrate your thoughts on food and it'll ease your mind. I've tried it."

They restored Bill to his harness and backed him into the shafts.

"Now everything's all right again," said Jimmy, quite happily. "Just think what tough luck it would have been if he'd broken his neck. It doesn't pay to drive a horse with a broken neck. Just a waste of time. Never buy a horse with a broken neck, son, unless you are in the tallow business."

"Bill's all right, but – but – there seems to be somethin' wrong with the shaft on this side. It wobbles," said the driver.

Jimmy went around to the other side and inspected it.

"Humph! Does wobble," he admitted. "It's cracked. However, that's all right. Just think how bad it would have been if it had broken in two. Now, as it is, maybe it'll last till we get to Mountain City, and I'll pay for a new one. You see, partner, all these little things are sent to try our fortitude and philosophy."

Again they moved ahead, and Jimmy whimsically homilized that it wasn't how a shaft looked or felt that counted, but whether it did its work. "Why, if everybody in this world who is cracked was chucked aside as useless, I reckon there'd be mighty few folks left to do things," he insisted. "There'd be milk without crocks, and jobs without men; girls without sweethearts and churches without bells, son. Being cracked isn't a sin, it's just being common!"

"Whoa! Whoa, Bill! She's busted for good now, Mister!"

The damaged shaft had snapped ominously and the harassed Bill this time threatened to kick the whole exasperating outfit to kindling wood if his heels held out long enough to accomplish such a worthy job.

"I'm getting used to this snow, now; I like it!" asserted Jimmy, as he again got out to make an inspection. "We folks from Maryland always did appreciate snow. It makes us understand the general air of chilliness that seems to hover around New England Yanks. Well, looks as if we'd have to steal a fence rail somewhere, boy, if we wish to continue this delightful journey. Ah, there's a nice old stake-and-ridered layout over there. I always knew they were the best kind of fences for country roads. They do come in handy, all right. You hold William and explain things to him while I grab one."

He waded into a ditch where the snow was waist high, floundered up a bank, and selected a fairly straight fence rail that would serve his purpose, and wallowed back with it. Once he fell and got snow up his sleeves as high as his elbows.

"Now some folks would swear that was cold and uncomfortable," he remarked as he shook it out in chunks, "but I like it, because I know it's clean. It'd be awfully good in a cocktail just about now! Snow? Why I've known time in a jay town down in Louisiana when I'd have cried with joy for anything as cool as that to put in even plain water. 'We never appreciate our blessings till we get 'em,' as the Mormon said just before his seventeen wives swung him up on the limb of a tree."

For a time he watched Bill struggling along dejectedly, but was glad that his improvised shaft support served and contemplated the passage of time that must intervene before they reached Mountain City. And then Bill again stumbled, and stopped as if in despair.

"I think maybe his feet's balled up," suggested the boy.

Jimmy climbed out and lifted Bill's extremities, hoof by hoof, patiently digging off the snow stilts with his pocket knife, until at last he found one hoof with a shoe missing.

"Well, well, well! No wonder you stumbled, old fellow," he sympathized. "Cast a shoe, have you? Must have been back there where you fell! That's too bad. You can't wear one of mine, or you'd be welcome. Must have another put on up in Mountain City. Don't mention the expense. My firm's rich. We often give horse shoes away on Christmas – paper ones, you know!"

And the faithful and valiant Bill, relieved of one shoe and four big collections of snow, hobbled forward again until he came to the foot of a hill that seemed to stretch clear to the moon, and then for the first time acted as if he had given up entirely and succumbed to misfortune.