“Hiram lowered his fiddle an’ answered, ‘You can’t skeer me, Jawhn McCullagh, fer Susan doesn’t keer fer you!’
“‘You sha’n’t run off with her!’ the other yelled, shakin’ his stick.
“I could see his face workin’ ez he swung his club up an’ down, an’ step be step kep’ edgin’ the leetle felly nearer the wotter. I jest lay tremblin’, I was that frightened, fer I was but a lad in them days. I knowd I otter run out an’ stop it, but ’fore I got me couritch up I hear the soft notes o’ the fiddle. There was ole Hiram with his withered hand holdin’ the instermen’, his long fingers flyin’ over the strings, the bow slidin’ slow like up an’ down.
“‘Swing yer corners, Jawhn!’ he cried, fixin’ them black eyes on the big feller.
“Then the notes come quick an’ short. Jawhn’s stick dropped, an’ his arm fell limp like. He passed one hand confused over his forehead. He bowed. The notes come faster. In another minute he was swingin’ corners with his arms graspin’ the air. The dead sticks cracked under his feet ez he flung around. An’ ez ole Hi called the figgers he followed him, yellin’ ’em louder an’ kickin’ like mad. It was the wildest dancin’ ever I seen. He bowed an’ twisted, back’ard an’ for’a’d, an’ chassayed an’ chained, his feet movin’ faster an’ faster ez the notes come quicker an’ quicker an’ the bow slid to an’ fro like lightnin’. Ole Hiram kep’ movin’ ’round cautious like, never takin’ his eyes off the dancer tell he was on the river side an’ Jawhn skippin’ ’round on the beaten towpath.
“Them was awful minutes fer me. I could do nawthin’, fer the playin’ kind o’ spelled me. ’Hen I seen the fiddler begin to move toward the canal an’ the mad dancin’ felly backin’ nearer an’ nearer the bank, I tried to git up but I kicked out with both feet an’ fell sprawlin’ on the groun’.
“‘Back to your corner, Jawhn!’ the ole man called.
“‘Corners next!’ yelled the dancer, kickin’ up his heels an’ th’owin’ out his arms like he was grabbin’ somethin’. Then come an awful cry. They was a splash. He’d gone over the bank.
“I jumped out, fer the music hed stopped, an’ started toward the spot. But ’fore I got there Hiram hed th’owed away his fiddle an’ run to the canal, an’ was down on his knees starin’ inter the wotter. A head come above the surface. Then an arm reached wildly out. The ole man bent over an’ grasped the hand. But it wasn’t no uset, fer he’d nawthin’ to support himself with. He took holt o’ the bank with his withered fingers, but the arm give ’way an’ he toppled over. Fer a minute all was still. I leaned over the wotter an’ waited. They was a ripple toward the middle, an’ two heads come up. I seen Hiram Gum’s long black hair an’ beard an’ his drawn face ez he looked at the sky overhead. Then they disappeared agin. The surface of the canal become quiet an’ still like nawthin’ hed ben happenin’. Then I turned an’ run.
“I flew along the towpath, acrosst the clearin’, inter the woods agin, an’ down toward the river where the boats lay hid among the willer bushes. An’ ez I went crashin’ th’oo the branches I hear a girl’s voice callin’.