Fire in the Woods / Illustrated

by James De Mille

“Black Betsy,” said Solomon, with a groan and another fearful roll of the eyes.

“Black Betsy? Why, what has she to do with you?” asked Bart, in wonder.

“Why, she my wife, you know.”

“Your wife? Your what? Your wife?” cried Bart. “What! Black Betsy! You married to Black Betsy! What in the world do you mean by this? When were you married? Last week?”

“Ben mar’d ober twenty year,” said Solomon, dolefully.

This was a period of remote antiquity with which Bart had no connection, and he could only listen in amazement to Solomon’s strange and startling disclosure. He had never heard of this before. He had no idea that Solomon had a wife, or that Black Betsy had a husband. But this thing required examination, and meanwhile the horse was all ready. As for the horse, he could only give orders to have him taken out, and then he was able to bestow his undivided attention upon Solomon.

“Ben mar’d mor’n twenty year,” replied Solomon, dolefully. “An you nebber see sech a strorny creetur in all your born days. Fight? Why, dat ar woman did nuffin but fight from morn to night, all de year roun. An drunk? Why, she nebber sober, night or day; an de life she led me! Beat? Why, she beat me black and blue; so I rund off to sea, and a bressed ting it was, for I ben dead an gone long ago. Den I heerd she gone off Boston way, an I come back yer, an den went to de Cadmy. Well, I got a mar’d darter out Loch Lomon way, an I come yer dis time to see her and de chil’en; an dar was Betsy. She nabbed me. She beat my life out, made me a slabe, and I done nuffin but grub about ebber since I come yar. Beat? Why, ebery day she pound me to a jelly. Clar if she didn’t! An de way she did lay dat ar big broomstick ober dis ole head. De sakes, ony to tink ob it.”

From all of which Bart learned that Black Betsy was the wife of Solomon; that her character, according to his showing, was by no means that gentle, and affectionate, and motherly one which he had supposed it to he; that her life was disorderly, and her conduct outrageous; that she was in the habit of getting drunk; that Solomon had to run away from her years ago, and become an exile and a wanderer; that it was only his yearning after his daughter that had drawn him back; that, on meeting his daughter, he had found himself, to his horror, once more in the presence of his merciless wife, who had at once seized him, appropriated him, beaten him, and reduced him to a state of abject slavery. From this slavery he had just escaped. He now appeared before Bart in the attitude of a fugitive slave, dreading discovery and capture, imploring Bart’s sympathy and assistance, and eager, above all things, to fly far away, and follow the fortunes of the boys on a new expedition; once more to join the ranks of the B. O. W. C.; once more to officiate as Grand Panjandrum; once more to furnish forth the banquet; once more to sail under the orders of Captain Corbet.

Solomon’s position was a truly painful one, and excited Bart’s profoundest sympathy; but there were other things in his position which were not altogether painful. In the first place, he was delighted to find that, whatever the reason might be, Solomon’s eagerness to set forth upon the expedition was equal to his own, if not greater. In the second place, Solomon wished to remain in hiding, and implored Bart to conceal him and keep his secret. So Bart found himself suddenly called on to become the benefactor and protector of a cherished friend, and also the depositary of a tremendous secret, which he had to guard like his heart’s blood. It was a secret which must be communicated to none, not even to Phil and Pat, not to his father or mother, in fact, not to any living soul. Fortunately, the servant had not seen Solomon, for that wary old party had discovered himself to Bart so cautiously, and had drawn him back into the barn to talk to him so carefully, that he had not been seen.

So Bart undertook the task. He found a safe place for Solomon behind the hay, and at regular intervals through the day he brought him food and drink. These regular intervals occurred so frequently, that Bart spent the greater part of that day in vibrating like a pendulum between the house and barn. Had Solomon remained in this hiding-place for any length of time, it is certain that Bart’s assiduous attentions and air of mystery would have led to a discovery; but as it happened, the concealment was not needed for any longer time.