 | CHAPTER XVII.
SAWNEY AND HIS OLD LOVE. The mystery of Metropolisville |  |
17. CHAPTER XVII.
SAWNEY AND HIS OLD LOVE.
SELF-CONCEIT is a great source of happiness, a
buffer that softens all the jolts of life. After
David Sawney's failure to capture Perritaut's half-breed
Atlantis and her golden apples at one dash,
one would have expected him to be a little modest
in approaching his old love again; but forty-eight hours after
her return from Glenfield, he was paying his “devours,” as he
called them, to little Katy Charlton. He felt confident of winning—he
was one of that class of men who believe themselves
able to carry off anybody they choose. He inventoried his own
attractions with great complacency; he had good health, a good
claim, and, as he often boasted, had been “raised rich,” or, as
he otherwise stated it, “cradled in the lap of luxury.” His
father was one of those rich Illinois farmers who are none the
less coarse for all their money and farms. Owing to reverses
of fortune, Dave had inherited none of the wealth, but all of
the coarseness of grain. So he walked into Squire Plausaby's
with his usual assurance, on the second evening after Katy's
return.
“Howdy, Miss Charlton,” he said, “howdy! I'm glad to see
you lookin' so smart. Howdy, Mrs. Ferret!” to the widow,
And then he took his seat alongside Katy, not without a little
trepidation, for he felt a very slight anxiety lest his flirtation
with Perritaut's ten thousand dollars “mout've made his chances
juberous,” as he stated it to his friends. But then, he reflected,
“she'll think I'm worth more'n ever when she knows I de-clined
ten thousand dollars, in five annooal payments.”
“Mr. Sawney,” said the widow Ferret, beaming on him with
one of her sudden, precise, pickled smiles, “Mr. Sawney, I'm
delighted to hear that you made a brave stand against Romanism.
It is the bane of this country. I re-spect you for the
stand you made. It shows the influence of schripcheral training
by a praying mother, I've no doubt, Mr. Sawney.”
Dave was flattered and annoyed at this mention, and he
looked at little Katy, but she didn't seem to feel any interest
in the matter, and so he took heart.
“I felt it my dooty, Mrs. Ferret, indeed I did.”
“I respect you for it, Mr. Sawney.”
“For what?” said Albert irascibly. “For selling himself
into a mercenary marriage, and then higgling on a point of
religious prejudice?”
Mrs. Ferret now focused her round eyes at Mr. Charlton,
smiled her deprecating smile, and replied: “I do think, Mr.
Charlton, that in this day of lax views on one side and priest-craft
on the other, I respect a man who thinks enough of
ee-vangelical truth to make a stand against any enemy of the
holy religion of—”
“Well,” said Charlton rudely, “I must say that I respect
Perritaut's prejudices just as much as I do Dave's. Both of
them were engaged in a contemptible transaction, and both of
opinion. Religion is—”
But the company did not get the benefit of Mr. Albert's views
on the subject of religion, for at that moment entered Mr.
Smith Westcott.
“How do, Katy? Lookin' solemn, eh? How do, Brother
Albert? Mrs. Ferret, how do? Ho! ho! Dave, is this you?
I congratulate you on your escape from the savages. Scalp all
sound, eh? Didn' lose your back-hair? By George! he! he!
he!” And he began to show symptoms of dancing, as he sang:
John Brown, he had a little Injun;
Dave Sawney had a little Injun;
One little Injun gal!
“Looky hyer, Mister Wes'cott,” said Dave, growing red,
“you're a-makin' a little too free.”
“Oh! the Shawnee chief shouldn' git mad. He! he! by
George! wouldn' git mad fer ten thousand dollars. I wouldn',
by George! you know! he! he! Ef I was worth ten thousand
dollars live weight, hide and tallow throw'd in, I would—”
“See here, mister,” said Dave, rising, “maybe you'd like to
walk out to some retired place, and hev your hide thrashed tell
'twouldn' hold shucks? Eh?”
“I beg pardon,” said Westcott, a little frightened, “didn'
mean no harm, you know, Mr. Sawney. All's fair in war,
especially when it's a war for the fair. Sort of warfare, you
know. By George! he! he! Shake hands, let's be friends,
Dave. Don' mind my joking—nobody minds me. I'm the privileged
infant, you know, he! he! A'n't I, Mr. Charlton?”
You're infant enough, I'm sure,” said Albert, “and whether
you are privileged or not, you certainly take Jiberties that
almost any other man would get knocked down for.”
“Oh! well, don't let's be cross. Spoils our faces and voices,
Mr. Charlton, to be cross. For my part, I'm the laughin' philosopher—the
giggling philosopher, by George! he! he! Come
Katy, let's walk.”
Katy was glad enough to get her lover away from her
brother. She hated quarreling, and didn't see why people
couldn't be peaceable. And so she took Mr. Westcott's arm,
and they walked out, that gentleman stopping to strike a match
and light his cigar at the door, and calling back, “Dood by, all,
dood by! Adieu, Monsieur Sawney, au revoir!” Before he
had passed out of the gate he was singing lustily:
Seven little, six little, five little Injun;
Four little, three little, two little Injun;
One little Injun girl!
ever heard.”
“I think,” said Mrs. Ferret, after Katy and her lover had
gone—she spoke rapidly by jerks, with dashes between—“I
think, Mr. Sawney—that you are worthy of commendation—I
do, indeed—for your praiseworthy stand—against Romanism. I
don't know what will become of our liberties—if the priests
ever get control—of this country.”
Sawney tried to talk, but was so annoyed by the quick
effrontery with which Westcott had carried the day that he
could not say anything quite to his own satisfaction. At last
Dave rose to go, and said he had thought maybe he mout git a
gone off with her. But he'd come agin. He wanted to know
ef Albert thought her feelin's was hurt by what he'd done in
offerin to make a cawntrack with Perritaut. And Albert assured
him he didn't think they were in the least. He had never heard
Katy mention the matter, except to laugh about it.
At the gate Mr. Sawney met the bland, gentlemanly Plausaby,
Esq., who took him by the hand soothingly, and spoke of his
services in the late election matter with the highest appreciation.
Dave asked the squire what he thought of the chance of his
succeeding with Miss Charlton. He recited to Plausaby his early
advantages. “You know, Squire, I was raised rich, cradled in
the lap of luxury. Ef I ha'n't got much book-stuffin' in my
head, 'ta'n't fer want of schoolin'. I never larnt much, but
then I had plenty of edication; I went to school every winter
hand-runnin' tell I was twenty-two, and went to singin' every
Sunday arternoon. 'Ta'n't like as ef I'd been brought up poar,
weth no chance to larn. I've had the schoolin' anyway, and
it's all the same. An' I've got a good claim, half timber, and
runnin' water onter it, and twenty acre of medder. I s'pose
mebbe she don't like my going' arter that air Frenchman's gal.
But I didn't mean no 'feuse, you know—ten thousand in yaller
gold's a nice thing to a feller like me what's been raised rich,
and's kinder used to havin' and not much used to gittin'. I
wouldn't want her to take no 'fense, you know. 'Ta'n't like's
ef I'd a-loved the red-skin Catholic. I hadn' never seed 'er.
It wasn't the gal, it was the money I hankered arter. So Miss
Charlton needn' be jealous, nor juberous, like's ef I was agoin'
to wish I'd a married the Injun. I'd feel satisfied with Kate
Charlton ef you think she'd be with David Sawney!”
“That's a delicate subject—quite a delicate subject for me to
speak about, Mr. Sawney. To say anything about. But I may
assure you that I appreciate your services in our late battle.
Appreciate them highly. Quite highly. Very, indeed. I have
no friend that I think more highly of. None. I think I could
indicate to you a way by which you might remove any unfavorable
impression from Miss Charlton's mind. Any unfavorable
impression.”
“Anythin' you tell me to do, squire, I'll do. I'd mos' skelp
the ole man Perritaut, and his darter too, ef you said it would
help me to cut out that insultin' Smith Westcott, and carry off
Miss Charlton. I don't know as I ever seed a gal that quite
come up to her, in my way of thinkin'. Now, squire, what is it?”
“Well, Mr. Sawney, we carried the election the other day
and got the county-seat. Got it fairly, by six majority. After
a hard battle. A very hard battle. Very. Expensive contest,
too. I pay men that work for me. Always pay 'em. Always.
Now, then, we are going to have trouble to get possession,
unless we do something bold. Something bold. They mean
to contest the election. They've got the court on their side.
On their side, I'm afraid. They will get an injunction if we
try to move the records. Sure to. Now, if I was a young man
I'd move them suddenly before they had time. Possession is
nine points. Nine points of law. They may watch the records
at night. But they could be moved in the daytime by some
man that they did not suspect. Easily. Quite so. County
buildings are in the edge of town. Nearly everybody away at
noon. Nearly everybody.”
“Wal, squire, I'd cawntrack to do it.”
“I couldn't make a contract, you see. I'm a magistrate.
me. Always. In more ways than one. There are two reasons
why a man might do that job. Two of them. One is love, and
the other's money. Love and money. But I mustn't appear
in the matter. Not at all. I'll do what I can for you. What
I can. Katy will listen to me. She certainly will. Do what
you think best.”
“I a'n't dull 'bout takin' a hint, squire.” And Dave winked
his left eye at the squire in a way that said, “Trust me! I'm
no fool!”
| CHAPTER XVII.
SAWNEY AND HIS OLD LOVE. The mystery of Metropolisville | |