Part 7 (1/2)
”We don't select our lives, Happy,” sez he. ”You're surely philosopher enough to see that. As far as we can see, it is like that gamblin'
game; we roll down through a lot o' little pegs bobbin' off from one to another until finally we pop into a little hole at the bottom; but we didn't pick out that hole. No, we didn't pick out that hole.”
So I up and asked him to tell me somethin' about his start.
CHAPTER SIX
A REMINISCENCE
I pity the man who has never slept out doors in the Rocky Mountains.
Swingin' around with the earth, away up there in the starlight, he fills himself full o' new life with every breath; and no matter how tough the day has been, he is bound to wake up the next mornin' plumb rested, and with strength and energy fair dancin' through his veins.
For it to be perfect, a feller has to have a pipe, a fire, and some one close and chummy to chat with. This night me an' the Friar both went down to the crick and washed our feet. We sat on a log side by side and made noises like a flock of bewildered geese when we first stuck our feet into the icy water; but by the time we had raced back and crawled into his bed, we were glowin' all over.
We didn't cover up right away, because the Friar just simply couldn't seem to get sleepy that night; and after a minute he put some more wood on the fire, filled his pipe again, and said: ”So you want me to tell you about my story, huh? Well, I believe I will tell you about my boyhood.”
So I filled my pipe, and we lay half under the tarp with our heads on our hands and our elbows on our boots, which were waitin' to be pillows, and he told me about the early days, talkin' more to himself than to me.
”My mother died when I was six years old, my father divided his time between cleanin' out saloons, beatin' me, an' livin' in the work-house,” began the Friar, and it give me kind of a shock. I'd had a notion that such-like kids wasn't likely to grow up into preachers; and I'd allus supposed 'at the Friar had had a soft, gentle youth. ”I was a tough, st.u.r.dy urchin,” he went on, ”but I allus had a soft heart for animals. I used to fight several times a day; but mostly because the other kids used to stone cats and tie tin cans on dogs' tails. I used to s.h.i.+ne shoes, pa.s.s papers, run errands, and do any other odd job for a few pennies, and at night I slept wherever I could. I had a big dry-goods-box all to myself for several months, once, and I still look back to it as being a fine, comfortable bedroom.
”One morning I was down at the Union Depot when a farmer drove up a big Norman hoss. .h.i.tched to a surrey. Some o' the other kids joshed him, called the hoss an elephant and asked where the rest o' the show was. The man was big, well fed, and comfortable lookin', same as the hoss, and he didn't pay any heed to the kids except to call one of 'em up to hold the hoss while he went into the depot. The kid wanted to know first what he was goin' to be paid, and he haggled so long 'at the farmer beckoned to me to come up. 'Will you hold my hoss for me a few minutes?' he asked.
”That big gray hoss with the dark, gentle eyes seemed to me one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, and I was mighty anxious to have charge of him, even for a few minutes; so I sez, 'You bet I will.'
”The other kids roasted me and made all manner o' sport; but they knew I would fight 'em if they got too superfluous, so after a bit they went on about their business. The's somethin' about man's love for a hoss that's a little hard to understand. I had never had no intimate dealin's with one before, yet somethin' inside me reached out and entwined itself all about this big, gray, velvet-nosed beauty left in my charge. I reckon it must be in a man's blood; that's the only explanation I can find. All the way back along the trail o' history we find the bones of men and hosses bleachin' together in the same heap; and about every worthwhile spot on the face o' nature has been fought over on hossback, so it's small wonder if the feel of a hoss has got to be part of man's nature.
”The farmer had had a woman and a little girl in his care, to see off on the train, and he was gone some time. I had a few pennies in my pocket, and I bought an apple an' fed it to the hoss, gettin' more enjoyment out of it than out of airy other apple I'd ever owned. I can feel right now the strange movin's inside my breast as his moist nose sniffed at my fingers and his delicate lips picked up the bits of apple, as careful an' gentle as though my rough, dirty little hand had been made o' crystal.
”I was so interested in the hoss that I gave a start of surprise when the farmer's voice behind me sez: 'You seem to like hosses, son.'
”'I hadn't no idee 'at a great big one like this could be so smooth an' gentle,' I said, with my hand rubbin' along the hoss's throat. 'I think he's a wonder.'
”'Do you like other animals?' asked the farmer.
”'I reckon I must be an animal myself,' sez I, 'because I allus get along well with them, while I have to fight a lot with humans.'
”'What do you want for tendin' to this hoss?' he asked me.
”'I don't want nothin',' sez I. 'We've got to be friends, an' I don't charge nothin' for doin' favors for a friend. Besides, he's got so much sense, I doubt if he needs much watchin'.'
”The farmer grinned, looked into my eyes a long time, and gave me a dollar. 'Now tell me how you'll spend your dollar,' sez he.
”Well, I was purty well floored. I had never owned a dollar before in my whole life, my father havin' taken away every cent he had ever found on me; and I stood lookin' at the coin, and hardly knowin' what to do. The farmer stood lookin' down at me with his eyes twinklin', and after a minute, I handed the dollar back to him. 'This is too much,' I sez. 'A dime would be plenty for the job, even if I didn't like the hoss; but if my old man would find a dollar on me, he'd give me a beatin' for hidin' it from him, take it away, get drunk, and then give me another beatin' for not havin' another dollar.'
”So he asked me all about my father; and I told about him and about my mother bein' dead, and the twinkle left his eyes and they grew moist, so 'at he had to wink mighty fast.
”He told me that his own boy was dead and his girl married, and that the' wasn't any children out at the big farm, and asked me if I wouldn't like to come and live with him. He told me about all the hosses an' the cows an' the pigs, an' that I could have a clean little room to sleep in, an' plenty o' food and clothes, and could go to school. It sounded like a fairy tale to me, and I sez, 'Aw go on, you're just jos.h.i.+n' me'; but he meant it; so I got on the seat beside him, and as soon as we got out o' town he let me drive the big gray hoss-and I entered into a real world more wonderful than any fairy tale ever was.
”When we drove up the shady lane and into the big barn lot, a little old lady with sad eyes came to the door, and sez: 'Now, John, who is that with you?' and my heart sank, for I thought she wasn't goin' to stand for me; but he took me by the hand and led me up to the door, put his arm about the little woman's shoulder, and sez with a tremble in his voice: 'This here is a little feller I've brought out to be company for ya, mother. He hasn't any folks, and he is fond of animals, and, and-his name is John, too.'
”At first she shook her head and shut her lips tight; but all of a sudden the tears came to her eyes, and she put her arms about me-and I had found a real home.