Have you been marketing? he asked.
Yes.
Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?
We are farmers, she answered, and we sell butter and eggsa pauseand that sort of thing.
Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As he twirled his cane he looked at his pretty companion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward a turn in the road. Her comely face was slightly flushed, doubtless with the exercise of walking.
Now, in my country, continued the New Yorker, we idolize our women. Pretty girls dont tramp miles to market with butter and eggs.
Arent the girls prettyin your country?
Yates made a mental note that there was not as much rurality about this girl as he had thought at first. There was a piquancy about the conversation which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment was doubtful, for a slight line of resentment was noticeable on her smooth brow.
You bet theyre pretty! I think all American girls are pretty. It seems their birthright. When I say American, I mean the whole continent, of course. Im from the States myselffrom New York. He gave an extra twirl to his cane as he said this, and bore himself with that air of conscious superiority which naturally pertains to a citizen of the metropolis. But over in the States we think the men should do all the work, and that the women shouldwell, spend the money. I must do our ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly to their share of the arrangement.
It should be a delightful country to live infor the women.
They all say so. We used to have an adage to the effect that America was paradise for women, purgatory for men, andwell, an entirely different sort of place for oxen.
There was no doubt that Yates had a way of getting along with people. As he looked at his companion he was gratified to note just the faintest suspicion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before she could answer, if she had intended to do so, there was a quick clatter of hoofs on the hard road ahead, and next instant an elegant buggy, whose slender jet-black polished spokes flashed and twinkled in the sunlight, came dashing past the wagon. On seeing the two walking together the driver hauled up his team with a suddenness that was evidently not relished by the spirited dappled span he drove.
Hello, Margaret! he cried; am I late? Have you walked in all the way?
You are just in good time, answered the girl, without looking toward Yates, who stood aimlessly twirling his cane. The young woman put her foot on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the driver. It needed no second glance to see that he was her brother, not only on account of the family resemblance between them, but also because he allowed her to get into the buggy without offering the slightest assistance, which, indeed, was not needed, and graciously permitted her to place the duster that covered his knees over her own lap as well. The restive team trotted rapidly down the road for a few rods, until they came to a wide place in the highway, and then whirled around, seemingly within an ace of upsetting the buggy; but the young man evidently knew his business, and held them in with a firm hand. The wagon was jogging along where the road was very narrow, and Bartlett kept his team stolidly in the center of the way.
Hello, there, Bartlett! shouted the young man in the buggy; half the road, you knowhalf the road.
Take it, cried Bartlett over his shoulder.
Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or Ill run you down.
You just try it.
Bartlett either had no sense of humor or his resentment against his young neighbor smothered it, since otherwise he would have recognized that a heavy wagon was in no danger of being run into by a light and expensive buggy. The young man kept his temper admirably, but he knew just where to touch the elder on the raw. His sisters hand was placed appealingly on his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her.
Come, now, you move out, or Ill have the law on you.
The law! roared Bartlett; you just try it on.
Should think youd had enough of it by this time.
Oh, dont, dont, Henry! protested the girl in distress.
There aint no law, yelled Bartlett, that kin make a man with a load move out fur anything.
You havent any load, unless its in that jug.
Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from under its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two in the buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He stepped briskly forward, and said to Bartlett:
Better drive aside a little, and let them pass.
You tend to your own business, cried the thoroughly enraged farmer.
I will, said Yates shortly, striding to the horses heads. He took them by the bits and, in spite of Bartletts maledictions and pulling at the lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by.
Thank you! cried the young man. The light and glittering carriage rapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road.
Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then he threw the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended.
You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin Yank? You do, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an me a-holdin the lines! Now you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hear me?
Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you.
Kin they? Well, off comes your pesky tent.
No, it doesnt.
Dont it, eh? Well, then, youll lick me fust; and thats something no Yank ever did nor kin do.
Ill do it with pleasure.
Come, come, cried the professor, getting down on the road, this has gone far enough. Keep quiet, Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, dont mind it; he means no disrespect.
Dont you interfere. Youre all right, an I aint got nothin agin you. But Im goin to thrash this Yank within an inch of his life; see if I dont. We met em in 1812, an we fit em an we licked em, an we can do it agin. Ill learn ye to take my horses by the head.
Teach, suggested Yates tantalizingly.
Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him and grasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartletts right leg became twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedily convinced the younger man he would have to give way or a bone would break. He gave way accordingly, and the next thing he knew he came down on his back with a thud that seemed to shake the universe.
There, darn ye! cried the triumphant farmer; thats 1812 and Queenstown Heights for ye. How do you like em?
Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and slowly took off his coat.
Now, now, Yates, said the professor soothingly, let it go at this. Youre not hurt, are you? he asked anxiously, as he noticed how white the young man was around the lips.
Look here, Renmark; youre a sensible man. There is a time to interfere and a time not to. This is the time not to. A certain international element seems to have crept into this dispute. Now, you stand aside, like a good fellow, for I dont want to have to thrash both of you.
The professor stood aside, for he realized that, when Yates called him by his last name, matters were serious.
Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again.
Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again.
I kin do it a dozen times, if ye aint satisfied. There aint no Yank ever raised on pumpkin pie that can stand agin that grapevine twist.
Try the grapevine once more.
Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for there was a look in the young mans face he did not quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can attitude, and moved stealthily in a semi-circle around Yates, who shifted his position constantly so as to keep facing his foe. At last Bartlett sprang forward, and the next instant found himself sitting on a piece of the rock of the country, with a thousand humming birds buzzing in his head, while stars and the landscape around joined in a dance together. The blow was sudden, well placed, and from the shoulder.
That, said Yates, standing over him, is 1776the Revolutionwhen, to use your own phrase, we met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do you like it? Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broader view of history than you have done. Dont confine yourself too much to one period. Study up the War of the Revolution a bit.
Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a while, until the surrounding landscape assumed its normal condition, he arose leisurely, without saying a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the horses and patted the nearest animal gently. Then he mounted to his place and drove off. The professor had taken his seat beside the driver, but Yates, putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode along in front, switching off the heads of Canada thistles with his walking stick as he proceeded.
CHAPTER IV
Bartlett was silent for a long time, but there was evidently something on his mind, for he communed with himself, his mutterings growing louder and louder, until they broke the stillness; then he struck the horses, pulled them in, and began his soliloquy over again. At last he said abruptly to the professor:
Whats this Revolution he talked about?
It was the War of Independence, beginning in 1776.
Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?
The colonies fought with England.
What colonies?
The country now called the United States.
They fit with England, eh? Which licked?
The colonies won their independence.
That means they licked us. I dont believe a word of it. Pears to me Id a heard of it; fur Ive lived in these parts a long time.
It was a little before your day.
So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an I never heard him tell of this Revolution. Hed a known, I shd think. Theres a nigger in the fence somewheres.
Well, England was rather busy at the time with the French.
Ah, that was it, was it? Ill bet England never knew the Revolution was a-goin on till it was over. Old Napoleon couldnt thrash em, and it dont stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought there was some skullduggery. Why, it took the Yanks four years to lick themselves. I got a book at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss.
The professor did not feel called upon to defend the character of Napoleon, and so silence once more descended upon them. Bartlett seemed a good deal disturbed by the news he had just heard of the Revolution, and he growled to himself, while the horses suffered more than usual from the whip and the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. Yates was some distance ahead, and swinging along at a great rate, when the horses, apparently of their own accord, turned in at an open gateway and proceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a large barn, past a comfortable frame house with a wide veranda in front.
This is my place, said Bartlett shortly.
I wish you had told me a few minutes ago, replied the professor, springing off, so that I might have called to my friend.
Im not frettin about him, said Bartlett, throwing the reins to a young man who came out of the house.
Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to the distant Yates. Yates apparently did not hear him, but something about the next house attracted the pedestrians attention, and after standing for a moment and gazing toward the west he looked around and saw the professor beckoning to him. When the two men met, Yates said:
So we have arrived, have we? I say, Stilly, she lives in the next house. I saw the buggy in the yard.
She? Who?
Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the road. Im going to buy our supplies at that house, Stilly, if you have no objections. By the way, how is my old friend 1812?
He doesnt seem to harbor any harsh feelings. In fact, he was more troubled about the Revolution than about the blow you gave him.
News to him, eh? Well, Im glad I knocked something into his head.
You certainly did it most unscientifically.
How do you meanunscientifically?
In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more awkwardly delivered undercut.
Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How should this calm, learned man know anything about undercuts or science in blows?
Well, you must admit I got there just the same.
Yes, by brute force. A sledge hammer would have done as well. But you had such an opportunity to do it neatly and deftly, without any display of surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an opening thrown away.
Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor in a new light! What do you teach in Toronto University, anyhow? The noble art of self-defense?
Not exactly; but if you intend to go through Canada in this belligerent manner, I think it would be worth your while to take a few hints from me.
With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove! I will, Stilly.
As the two came to the house they found Bartlett sitting in a wooden rocking chair on the veranda, looking grimly down the road.
What an old tyrant that man must be in his home! said Yates. There was no time for the professor to reply before they came within earshot.
The old womans setting out supper, said the farmer gruffly, that piece of information being apparently as near as he could get toward inviting them to share his hospitality. Yates didnt know whether it was meant for an invitation or not, but he answered shortly:
Thanks, we wont stay.
Speak fur yourself, please, snarled Bartlett.
Of course I go with my friend, said Renmark; but we are obliged for the invitation.
Please yourselves.
Whats that? cried a cheery voice from the inside of the house, as a stout, rosy, and very good-natured-looking woman appeared at the front door. Wont stay? Who wont stay? Id like to see anybody leave my house hungry when theres a meal on the table! And, young men, if you can get a better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what Ill give you, why, youre welcome to go there next time, but this meal youll have here, inside of ten minutes. Hiram, thats your fault. You always invite a person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle with him!
Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with something of mute appeal at the two men, but said nothing.
Never mind him, continued Mrs. Bartlett. Youre at my house; and, whatever my neighbors may say agin me, I never heard anybody complain of the lack of good victuals while I was able to do the cooking. Come right in and wash yourselves, for the road between here and the fort is dusty enough, even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. Besides, a wash is refreshing after a hot day.