CHAPTER XVI—POP-CORN BALLS
HUNCH worked hard during the rest of the winter, so hard that he was startled one day, after two weeks up country in the logging camp, to find that March was only a week away. He had been sent to take charge of the logging gang while the regular foreman was getting back on his legs after an ax cut. When he returned to the mill, and reported at the office, Mr. Jackson waved him to a chair.
“Sit down a minute, Badeau. I want to talk to you. How do you like your work, anyhow?”
“It's all right, sir.”
“How do you get along with the men? Have any trouble?”
“Not lately.”
“Would you like to go back on the lake?”
“Wouldn't mind.”
“You've had a good deal of experience, haven't you?”
“Guess so.”
“What have you done besides running that little schooner you had?”
“Well, I was mate two years on one of Peters's coal schooners, and before that I knocked around a good while getting on to the ropes.”
“Now, I'll tell you, Badeau, we're going to put on a big schooner this year. She's the Robert James.”
“I know,” said Hunch, “a three sticker. Belongs to the Wilsons. Stud Marble's been sailing her.”
“That's the boat. Well, we've bought her, and she's going out March eleventh with that Menominee bill. If you think you'd like to take her out, say so, and you can have her. We've named her the Lucy Jackson.”
Hunch looked down at his cap and then up at the yellow-and-red lithograph, that hung over Mr. Jackson's desk, of Maud S., rounding into the home stretch. He did not know what to say.
“Speak up, Badeau. Do you want it?”
“Yes, sir, I'll try it.”
“We don't want you to try it; we want you to do it. There mustn't be any doubt about it.”
“There ain't any. I can do it.”
“All right. Come in again some day this week, and we'll fix up the details. You might be picking up a crew. And you'd better go down and look her over. She's at Wilson's dock.”
Hunch spent the day in going over the schooner, setting things to right and taking an inventory of repairs. For the next two weeks he worked day and night, eating and sleeping when he could. Then exactly on time, the Lucy Jackson was ready, and she sailed for Menominee with Hunch at the wheel and a hundred and ten thousand feet of lumber on the deck.
The spring and summer months slipped by. Hunch was kept so busy delivering cargoes at nearly every port on the lake down to Chicago and Michigan City, and once going around through the straits to Alpena, that he kept little track of the time. He was usually at Liddington at least once a month, but he stayed only a day or so at a time, and then kept aboard the schooner as much as possible.
It was in October, nine months after his talk with Joe Cartier, that he met Mamie's father in the street in Liddington. Hunch had gone to the post-office, expecting orders from Mr. Jackson, and was hurrying back to the schooner to see about unloading her cargo. Banks was coming down the steps from the bank.
“Hello, Badeau,” he said, holding out his hand. “Where've you been all this time?”
“Busy,” said Hunch, taking the hand, and wishing that he could get away.
“Where are you now? Up to Manistee?”
“I s'pose I hail from there 's much as anywheres.”
“On the lake again, ain't you. One of the boys told me you was getting up in the world.”
“Oh, I ain't very much yet.”
“You're cap'n of a big schooner, I hear.”
“Yes. How's all your folks?”
“Pretty well. Mamie was sick for a while, but I guess she's all right now. Let's see, it's most a year since I saw you. Don't you ever get down here?”
“Not very often.”
“How long 're you here for?”
“Guess I can get away to-morrow some time.”
“You'll be around to-night, won't you? Mamie and the old lady 'll never forgive you if you go away without seeing us.”
“Why——”
“Look here, now, Badeau, I'm going to send Frank down with the rig, and fetch you up to supper.”
“No—I can't get away. Honest, I can't. I've got a big load here——”
“None of that now. You've got to come.”
“I can't do it, Mr. Banks. I would if I could.”
“Well, I s'pose you know. But Frank will be along for you right after supper, anyhow.”
Hunch walked quickly away. He was excited, and before returning to the schooner he strode a few blocks away from the river. He did not want his men to see him until he could get control of himself.
After supper he got out his good clothes and brushed them carefully. When young Banks drove down on the wharf and called to one of the men forward, Hunch was standing before his square tilted mirror, giving a last twist to his hair.
Mr. and Mrs. Banks were cordial. Mamie came in a little later, and Hunch was surprised to see how pretty she was. She had more flesh and color and her eyes were brighter. She acted as if nothing had happened, and before long Hunch was made to feel at home. When he rose to go, Mr. Banks took his hat and followed him out, and Mamie looked a little conscious when she said “Goodnight.”
“You won't mind my telling you something, will you, Badeau?” said Banks, when they were on the side-walk. “I couldn't help seeing to-day that you didn't want to come around, and I———”
“Oh, it ain't that———”
“Hold on, now. I know just what it is. I ain't lived longer 'n you have for nothing. I see how you feel, and I just want you to know that we feel different. Of course, there's some things does make a difference, some kind of things—there's no getting around that—but all the same, we ain't holding anything against you. I'll tell you, Badeau—and I ain't ashamed to say it—when I found out how you'd been keeping my girl alive when I weren't man enough to do it myself, I—why—dam' it, man, I want to shake hands with you, right now.”
“Why,” said Hunch, when Banks had released his hand, “that ain't so. I———”
“Now, you don't fool me. I know about it. Joe Cartier, he told me some of it, and Jim Bartlett and—by the way, there's a good friend of yours. He and Jess ain't never got over the way they treated you. Lord knows they'd be glad enough to crawl if you'd give 'em the chance. She's a good girl, too. Made a mistake when she threw you down, but she's suffered enough for that.”
They walked for more than a block in silence. Finally Banks said, “Look here, Badeau; you can't go to-morrow. You just can't do it. You plan to get away the next morning, and come up tomorrow and set around, and we'll try to have a good time. Just to show that there ain't no hard feelings anywheres, and you can forget us if you want to, but you've got to put in one more evening, anyhow. Sometimes—sometimes I wonder if 't ain't all just as well. Bruce, he wouldn't have—well, it wasn't your fault, anyhow.”
When they parted a block further down the street, Banks said, “Mebbe we'll have a little surprise for you when you come to-morrow night. I can't say for sure, but it's more'n likely. And mebbe you won't be sorry you come.”
Hunch had no doubts about staying. It would have taken more than the four Liddington tugs to have pulled him out of the harbor that next day. He went up to Bank's house early in the evening, and found the old gentleman alone in the front room in his shirt sleeves, popping com at the stove.
“Come right in, my boy. The women folks drove me out of the kitchen. We thought we'd have some old-fashioned pop-corn balls. Hope you like 'em.” Hunch grinned and sat on the sofa. “No setting around lazy. You've got to get to work along with the rest of us. Here, you shell them ears there, in the pan.”
Hunch drew up a chair, and held the pan between his knees.
“Where's all the folks?” he said, as he started on his second ear.
“They're out in the kitchen, the whole lot of 'em. I told 'em we'd be out as soon as the corn was popped.”
Mr. Banks spoke without looking around and in a nervous manner. He was watching the popper intently and he kept shaking it after the last yellow kernel had burst into white bloom. When Hunch grew a little impatient to go into the kitchen, Mr. Banks delayed and tried to keep up a conversation. At last, however, the corn was ready. Mr. Banks led the way to the kitchen door, opened it, and waited for Hunch to go through first. Mrs. Banks was greasing pans at the table; Mamie was in the pantry rattling the dishes. A tall girl stood at the stove stirring the candy, her back to the door. Hunch stopped a moment and looked at her. It was Jess Bartlett.
“Step lively, Badeau. This is our busy day.” Mr. Banks brushed by him, holding the pan of pop-corn high up on his hand like a negro waiter, and trying to appear unconcerned.
“Come on, Mr. Badeau,” called Mrs. Banks. “Just hold these pans a minute. We're going to make you work too.”
Mamie came out of the pantry, blushing, and looked saucily at Hunch. He had not seen her look like that for more than a year. Then he knew that Jess had turned around and was looking at him. He sat on the corner of the table, and said, “Hello, Jess.”
“Hello, John,” she replied, in a low voice.
The others had turned away, but now Mr. Banks called out, “Pull up some chairs, folks. This is where we all get busy. Move lively, my boy. We've got to make the balls before it gets hard.” Hunch did not know how it happened that he sat next to Jess at the table. He felt strange and uncomfortable. But the others were full of mischief, and they joked slyly and winked at each other, and misinterpreted Hunch's backward manner, so that it was, after all, a lively evening. When it came time to go, Jess said to Mrs. Banks, “Guess I'll have to go along,” and then lingered, not knowing whether she would have to go alone. Finally Mr. Banks said to Hunch, “I don't s'pose you'd mind just this once seeing that Jess gets home all safe and sound, would you, now?” So Hunch put on his coat, and he and Jess said “Good-night,” and when they got out on the street, she timidly took his arm, and they walked along together without a word.
The silence continued until Hunch felt that he must say something.
“How've you folks been all this time?” he asked.
“We've been pretty well. Jim sprained his wrist, but it's all right now.”
Again they were silent, and though Hunch tried, he could think of nothing more to say. They were on the last block of their walk, when Jess, her hand trembling a little on his arm, said:
“Haven't you ever forgiven me, John?”
It was a relief to him that she had broken the ice.
“Why, I dunno. I ain't got nothing special to forgive.”
“Are you mad now?”
“No, I ain't mad.”
“You didn't come around. It's been a long time.”
Hunch had no explanation. They stood at the gate, each waiting for the other to go on. Jess turned half away and picked at a broken corner of the gate-post. Hunch watched her. There was something attractive in the poise of her figure, and even with her big hat on, enough of her hair showed to give an impression of its richness. She looked up at him.
“Ain't we ever going to be—friends, John?”
“Yes, we're friends now, I reckon.” Hunch hesitated; he was making up his mind to tell the truth.
“What makes you act like you do?”
“'Cause, well, 'cause there ain't no use patching up an old hull and calling it a new boat, Jess. Things is changed. There's no good saying I feel like I did, when I don't, Jess; and couldn't if I tried. You're a fine girl, and you'll make some fellow happy, but I'm afraid I ain't him.”
She stood looking down.
“Don't you see how 'tis, Jess? I'm just telling you the truth.”
She nodded? He held out his hand, and she took it quickly, then ran into the house. That was all. Hunch looked after her for a few moments, then he walked slowly back to the schooner.