CHAPTER XXIV.
DUCKING AT CATAHOULA LAKE.
Prof. Handwerker came down to Memphis, and we went for a duck shoot. We went by rail to Alexandria and chartered a wagon with two sketchy ponies and an aged veteran as driver, who took us about 20 miles to Catahoula Lake. The toll man at the bridge valued our outfit at 40 cents, and collected the entire price each way. The road lay through a lumber country, where the yellow pine was being rapidly cut out. Arriving within a mile of the lake, we concluded to stop with Mr. S., rather than rest our old limbs in the doubtful protection of the tent we had brought.
S. lived on a tract he had homesteaded, in a "plank-up" house of three rooms. At the end of the living room was a large chimney of mud and sticks, with andirons, in which a large fire burned constantly. There were holes in the chimney of a size convenient for the cat to crawl through, which the men had not had time to mend. Cracks an inch wide between the plank let in a sufficiency of air, when the one window—unencumbered with sash and glass—a simple wooden shutter, swung shut. The family consisted of the man, his wife, two sons aged 16 and 12; horses, cows, oxen, chickens and numerous pigs. The latter were dying off, and we saw numerous carcasses in the woods, the consequence of a lot of diseased animals being brought in by a neighbor. S. had had a sawmill, and with the aid of his sons and wife—the latter the engineer—had turned out about 7,000 feet of lumber a day. For this he had received his stock; but the wife did not feel that they were doing well enough and persuaded him to sell the mill and raise cotton.
They cleared a few acres which they farmed till the yield fell off, when they let it lie fallow and farmed another bit. They had intended to saw up a lot of wood for a new house, but somehow it had been neglected, or when a lot had been got out some one made a dicker for it. The stock of food for the animals had run short, and chop sold at the stores for $1.00 a bag for cash, $1.60 on credit; so the animals ran in the woods and ate Spanish moss. This, we were assured, was a good, nutritious food, when the animals got used to it. All were very thin. One horse looked like a walking skeleton, and in fact died during our stay—but then it was so reduced by the time it died that the loss was trifling. The horses had long since stripped the berries from the china berry trees. We were told that eight crops of alfalfa had been cut from a field in this region last summer; so that it is simply a question of cultivating a few more acres to supply proper food to the stock. The five cows gave about a quart of milk a day. They were milked once a day—if they came up to the house in time; if not, it went over till next day.
Mr. S. was a fine, good-natured man, who did not drink, or permit liquor or cards in his house. He had some trouble with his shoulder, which seriously interfered with his work, though he hauled logs to the sawmill, the small boy driving. He was very proud of his wife; vaunting her as the best worker in the parish, excepting their nearest neighbor; and those two women, he averred, could equal any men in farming cotton, chopping or sawing wood, and cultivating the garden. It was edifying—touching—to see Mrs. S. bridle with pleasure under this well-deserved approval.
The two boys attended to the fires, on alternate days; and they sure did show great mathematical talent, for they could calculate to a certainty the exact quantity of wood that sufficed for the day and next morning, so as to leave over not a scrap for the lessening of the other boy's labors. In the evening a huge backlog was placed in the big chimney, with two smaller pieces underneath, and some cypress under that to keep up a blaze. Then all hands gathered around, S., the Professor and the aged driver, with their pipes, the two boys chewing, and Mrs. S., with a little stick projecting from her mouth, which puzzled us, till the idea of its significance flashed across our mind—snuff! And then they set in persistently and systematically to put the fire out, by well-directed expectoration. And we are bound to say that in accuracy of aim Mrs. S. was not behind the menfolk.
Bedtime came. A big feather-bed was dragged out and placed on the floor in front of the fire, some comforters thrown over it, with pillows, and we were politely offered our choice of the bed on the floor or that on the wooden bedstead. It was left to us, and we took one apprehensive look at the ancient stead—quite undeserved was the suspicion—and chose the floor, remarking that we could not turn a lady out of her bed. This was met with remonstrances on the part of these warm-hearted people, but it was left that way. The old man and the two boys took the other bed, and the seven of us lay down to sleep in the one room. First the lady retired to the kitchen while we disrobed; then we offered to do the same to give her a chance, but this was unnecessary, as she didn't disrobe. The old man got in bed and lit his pipe; she took a fresh portion of snuff, and we presume the boys a new quid. During the night we occasionally heard S. scratching matches to light up. The bed of wild duck feathers favorably modified the hardness of the floor, and we slept well.
Before daybreak we heard S. lighting up, and then, with difficulty, he induced the boy on duty to arouse and attend to the fire. Then Mrs. S. arose and when we showed signs of consciousness we had a cup of coffee—black, good quality, well sweetened, but without milk. Breakfast of smoked pork, more coffee, and hot bread—corn or wheat. We may add that this was also our dinner and our supper, varied by cracklin' bread, hot biscuits, and an occasional pie of berries or peaches. Once sweet potatoes and once dried peas. If a visitor dropped in, coffee was served around. And we had ducks.