"Do what?" I asked, not over pleased that he should have called upon me to leave the girl.
"Wallow him, the old General. He claimed that my hogs had been gettin' into his field, and I told him that I didn't feel disposed to keep my hogs up when everybody else's were runnin' at large, and then he called me a scoundrel and we clinched. I took him so quick that he wasn't prepared for me, and I give a sort of a hem stich and down he went, right in the middle of the road. And there I was right on top of him. He didn't say a word, while I was wallowin' him, but when I let him up, he looked all round and then said: 'Lim Jucklin, if I thought anybody was lookin' I'd kill you right here. You are the first man that ever wallowed a Lundsford and lived, and the novelty of the thing sorter appeals to me. You know that I'm not afraid of the devil, and keep your mouth shut about this affair, and we'll let it drap.' And he meant just what he said, and I did keep my mouth shut, not because I was afraid of his hurtin' me, but because I was sorry to humiliate him. Ever hear of John Mortimer Lacey? Well, shortly after that him and Lundsford fit a duel and Lacey went to New Orleans and died there. So, don't say anything about it."
"About what? Lacey's going to New Orleans and dying there?"
"No, cadfound it all, about my wallerin' the General."
"I won't," I answered, and then I thought to touch upon a question that had taken a fast hold upon me. "By the way, you spoke of having sent your daughter to school at Raleigh——"
"The devil I did! Well, what's that got to do with you or with anyone else, for that matter? I'll be—you must excuse me, sir," he quickly added, bowing. "I'm not right bright in my mind at times. Pecked right at my eye, and if I hadn't dodged I'd be one-eyed this minute—yes, I would, as sure as you are born. But here, let us drop that wallowin' business and that other affair with it, and not mention it again. Don't know why I done it in the first place, but I reckon it was because I'm not right bright in my mind at times. You'll excuse my snap and snarl, won't you? Go on back there, now, and talk about your books."
"I am the one to ask pardon, Mr. Jucklin. I ought to have had better sense than to touch upon something that didn't concern me. I guess there must be a good deal of the brute in me, and it seems to me that I spend nearly half my time regretting what I did the other half."
"Why, Lord love your soul, man, you haven't done nothin'. But you draw me close to you when you talk of regrettin' things. I have spent nearly all my life in putty much that fix. After you've lived in this neighborhood a while you'll hear that old Lim has been in many a fight, but you'll never hear that anybody has ever whupped him. You may hear, though, that he has rid twenty mile of a cold night to beg the pardon of a man that he had thrashed. We'll shake hands right here, and if you say the word we'll go right now and make them chickens fight. No, it's Sunday. Kiver to kiver, you understand. Go on back there, now."
With Guinea I sat and saw the sun go down behind a yellow gullied hill. From afar up and down the valley came the lonesome "pig-oo-ee!" of the farmers, calling their hogs for the evening's feed. We heard the flutter of the chickens, flying to roost, and the night hawk heard them, too, for his eager, hungry scream pierced the still air. On a smooth old rock at the verge of the ravine the girl's brother stood, arms folded, looking out over the darkening low land, and from within the house, where Mrs. Jucklin sat alone, there came a sad melody: "Come, thou fount of every blessing."
The girl's eyes were upward turned. "Every evening comes with a new mystery," she said. "We think we know what to expect, but when the evening comes it is different from what it was yesterday."