University of Virginia Library

22. XXII.
MAD BIDDIKIN'S RIDE.

FORTUNE is to certain marriageable ladies
what a molasses-cup is to flies; and Elphaz Pelt,
Esq., consoling himself for the loss of Lucy by
retaining her dowry, looked about, and saw with a grim smile
at least a score of young women ready to rush into his arms
and the fine new house he was building.

But Elphaz was circumspect; Elphaz was nice; and gradually
narrowing the circle of his observation, like a wheeling
bird of prey, he fixed his eagle eye, and pounced on the Pinworth
cottage.

Metaphorically speaking. He did not exactly swoop down
the chimney, nor dash through a window; nor is it to be understood
that he had swapped off his two very distinct organs
of vision for one prime aquiline orb. On the contrary, he
walked in regularly every Sunday night by the front-door, in
his finest plumage; polished his beak with a silk handkerchief;
gave a claw to Sophy, and a claw to her mother;
perched himself between that amiable pair of doves for the

evening; and found his oblique dual optics just the thing for
the occasion.

“Takes a cross-eyed man to court two women at once,”
said Mad Biddikin; bitterly, for reasons.

It was some time before it was known which of the ladies
was the lawyer's choice. September decided the question.
Pelt proposed to Sophy: Sophy accepted Pelt. At which,
society held up all its hands; one of which was clinched and
shaken.

The fist was young Biddikin's. He had courted Sophy
himself all summer, and been secretly favored; when Pelt
stepped in, and he was turned out: Sophy, lured by lucre,
transferring her affections to a man nearly twice his age, and
not half as good-looking.

The turbulent Biddikin blood boiled at this perfidy. But
he blamed Sophy less than he did her mother, by whom she
had been over-persuaded; and Pelt, by whom she had been
purchased. Against these two his vengeance burned. He
had a scene with Mrs. Pinworth in the street, — very scandalous.
He stood and blackguarded Elphaz as he went in
and out of his office. In short, he was fast becoming a nuisance
which the squire particularly desired to have abated;
and his sharp eyes consulted each other on the subject, while
he waited his chance.

It so happened, that the same evening on which the elder
Biddikin went through the terrible ordeal of discovery and
confession also brought a crisis in the junior's fortunes.

Colonel Bannington had taken advantage of the fine
weather to visit the village; and Mad, who accompanied him,
had experienced the sting of seeing dash by him, as he slowly
wheeled the chair through the street, a smart buggy, containing
a pair of laughing lovers. It was Elphaz and Sophy.

“What's the matter?” demanded the invalid; for Mad
had halted involuntarily, all ablaze.

“He'd rather be pulling Pelt's nose than pushing your
chair,” laughed the tavern-keeper.

Mad, galled as never before by his mean occupation, which
was thrown into humiliating contrast by the gay style in
which Sophy was riding out, crushed an oath between his
teeth, and moved on.

Everybody stopped to speak with the colonel, who was in
so sociable a mood, that the sun had set before he thought of
the homeward journey. Then he remembered the evening
dews, and ordered a rapid retreat. Mad sullenly took his
time to ascend the long grade, his volcanic soul ready at any
moment to belch fire.

“Seems to me you are growing deused lazy,” said the
colonel.

“Seems to me you are growing deused sassy!” Mad answered,
and stopped.

It took the colonel an instant to realize the supreme insolence
of the retort. Then, slowly twisting himself round in
his chair, he struck at Mad with his cane; which was seized
quickly, wrenched from his hand, splintered, and flung upon
the roadside.

“Look out how you raise cane with me, you old limp-legs!”
And Mad sat down on a stone, and laughed.

They were on an unfrequented road, at a distance from
any house. It was fast growing dark. The evening was
damp and chill. The invalid stormed and threatened.

“Better keep quiet there, you wheelbarrow-full of corruption!
or you'll get spilt over,” Mad warned him.

The colonel remembered how he had suffered from the vengeance
of one man. He did not like to fall into the hands of
another with so murderous a disposition as Mad manifested.
He accordingly arranged his muffler, strained his keen eyes
to peer into the dusk, and kept silent, waiting for succor.

Unfortunately, in the first ebullition of his wrath, he discharged
the offender from his service; for which Mad mockingly
thanked him, saying that he was “tired of being a
hoss.” And now, when, shivering in the dark and cold till
he felt the chill striking to his vitals, he humbled himself to
inquire how much longer he was to be kept exposed there,
the answer came jeeringly back, —

“Don't ask me: it's none of my business. I'm out of a
situation; and I'm going to set here till somebody comes
along and hires me.”

“I'll give you a job,” said the colonel.

“You'll give somebody a job to carry you to your grave,
you tub of wickedness! Look out,” muttered Mad, “that
you don't hurry up your funeral-cakes by striking me
again!”

The invalid pushed his chin out of his muffler, and breathed
quick, fierce breaths, for a minute, with clinched teeth. He
wished he had his pistols with him.

“I'll give you a dollar to take me home; and let that
end it.”

“Bid higher'n that, you old huckster! You are in a bad
place, right in the road there, where wagons'll be running
over ye. Though maybe there won't be any wagons passing,
and you may have to stay till morning, — you bowled-down
ten-pin!”

“Two dollars!” chokingly said the colonel, appalled by
the prospect.

“Two dollars is cussed little for a man you've struck with
a cane. The law'll give me more'n that.” And Mad began
to whistle.

Darker still; clouds rising, and shutting out the stars. No
vehicle coming.

“Five dollars,” — the words tasted like gall to the helpless,
enraged man, — “and square accounts.”

“Five dollars won't square accounts. I'm to have a crack
at you to make us even, you broken-bladed jack-knife! Ah!
won't it feel good to get hold of your sack of bones, and shake
it a little! Grind your hatchet-face sharper'n 'tis now in the
sand here! Now, do you know what I'm waiting for?”

The colonel had no longer a doubt but it was the villain's
intention to delay until it was dark enough, and then quietly
murder him. He didn't want to be murdered. Although

by no means a coward, he felt an impotent and selfish clinging
to life, wretched as life had become.

“Say, don't you think you've lived about long enough,
you crippled old sinner?” the assassin continued. “There's
Guy waiting for your shoes. He'll marry Lucy Arlyn as
soon as you're out of the way: then your money'll go! Five
dollars to take you home? Wonder what they'd give to have
you sent to your long home!”

The colonel then began to call for help.

“Look a here! just you dry up! shut down on that
arrangement mighty quick!” said Mad, starting to his feet.
“My fingers are aching to get hold o' your wind-pipe. You
never'll scream again if they do!”

“By the gods! I can't stay here,” cried the colonel
furiously, prepared to grapple and die game. “I'll call; and
lay a hand on me if you dare!” He did not shout, however,
but pulled a bank-note from his pocket, and made Mad
a last offer. “Ten dollars to take me home. Yes or no;
and speak quick!”

“Agreed,” said Mad, laughing as he pocketed the note,
although it was too dark to ascertain its value; and, laying
hold of the chair, he pushed it a few rods, then halted.

“Go on, go on!” vociferated the colonel: “you've got
your pay.”

“Yes: but I ain't working by the week now; I'm working
by the job. No time was set to have it finished; and I can
afford to be all day to-morrow about it.”

After resting a while, he went on a little farther with exasperating
deliberation, and halted again.

“You haven't give me any chance for supper yet,” said he.
“I guess now I'll leave you while I go and get some.”

It was in vain that Bannington reminded him of the
agreement.

“I'll keep my word, colonel. Dead or alive, I'll wheel
ye home. I'll come back and wheel ye a little farther after
supper; then I can finish the job easy in the morning.” And
Mad marched away, heedless of threats, and disappeared in
the darkness.

Nothing was left the invalid but to shout for help with his
feeble lungs, which were soon quite exhausted by the exertion.
Mad, in the mean time, returned by a circuitous route
through the fields, and crept under the fence, where he could
just see the dim outline of the colonel in the darkness, and
enjoy his swearing.

At length the sound of wheels was heard, then the tramp
of a trotting horse, then voices. Very gay the voices were;
but they were like swords to the soul of young Biddikin.
Sophy and Elphaz were returning from their drive.

The colonel had been left exactly in the middle of the road;
and Mad hoped that he would get run over, and that all —
particularly Pelt — would get broken necks.

The colonel screamed to avert the danger, and got himself
out of the track by turning a wheel with his hand. The
horse, hearing the noise, and seeing a mysterious object moving

by the road, dashed aside, and ran directly into the fence
behind which lay Madison.

“What's that? Who's there?” cried Elphaz.

“Pelt!” returned the colonel. “Come here!”

“Bannington! — that you?”

Pelt went to his client; and Mad lay and chuckled while
Bannington told his story, and the two consulted.

“You'd better have followed my advice, and got rid of the
scoundrel a month ago,” said Elphaz. “According to your
own account, I don't see how the law can take hold of him.
He didn't force you to give him the money?”

“No,” admitted the client.

“Nor agree to take you home to-night? And you had
discharged him previously?”

“That's so. But you'll find some trap for him, Pelt, or
you are no lawyer. Think it up at your leisure. But get me
home now the first thing: I'm half dead.”

“I'll go and get Aaron.”

“No, no! Don't you leave me a minute. Wheel me
yourself: 'tain't far.”

“It's half a mile at least! And here is Sophy.”

“Sophy be d—! Isn't a man's life of any consequence?”

Pelt was in great perplexity. He didn't like the job at
all; yet he dared not offend his client. After a consultation
with Sophy, who agreed to drive the horse, he concluded to
go before with the chair.

It was a dismal road; and they had hardly got started, when
Sophy uttered a scream.

“What's the matter?” cried Elphaz.

“'Sh!” whispered Mad. “It's me!”

Pelt left the chair, and started to come back; when Sophy
hastily cried, —

“'Tain't any thing. I — thought I was going to tip over.”

“All right now?” said Elphaz.

“Yes: I — guess so!” — in an uncertain voice.

“Come along, then.” And Pelt returned to the colonel;
while Mad softly climbed into the buggy, and took a seat by
Sophy's side.

“Mad! you mustn't!” she whispered.

He answered by clasping her waist. He was wildly hilarious.
He kissed her savagely; and still she did not dare,
or did not wish, to scream.

“Did you speak?” said Elphaz.

“No: I — I was talking to the horse,” replied the virtuous
maiden. “Now go! — do go, Mad!”

“I shall go mad if you marry him! Do you think I'll
let you, and not tell him something you wouldn't like to have
me tell?”

“O Mad! I don't mean to marry him: I only go with
him to please mother. You mustn't turn against me. Oh, if
you should!”

Mad had taken the reins. He drove very slow, making
the most of his interview, and terrifying Sophy by his violence.
Pelt called to her to keep nearer the chair.

“Ask him how he likes his job,” said Mad. She hesitated.
“If you won't, I will.”

“No, don't!” she whispered; adding, in sweet accents,
“How do you like your job, Mr. Pelt?”

“Oh! very well,” muttered Elphaz.

“Tell him, maybe the colonel would like to hire him by
the week, in my place.”

“Perhaps Colonel Bannington would like to employ you
in Madison's place,” said the reluctant maiden.

“He'll employ me — to punish that rascal!” growled
Pelt, toiling at the chair.

Mad could scarce restrain his savage merriment. He
stopped the horse, and held Sophy, and whispered frantic
things to her. Then, when Pelt grew anxious, and called to
her to drive on, Mad urged the animal forward with headlong
recklessness, resolved to run down both Pelt and Bannington.

“Ho! hollo!” shouted Pelt; “what in thunder!” —

“I didn't see you,” faltered Sophy.

“You broke my shoulder,” scolded the lawyer. “Hold
him, now, till I get on a little piece; and don't drive so like
Jehu again.”

“He is awful angry!” whispered Sophy. “Now, Mad,
do behave yourself!”

“I will!” said Mad, crouching in the fore part of the
buggy. “You'll see some bully fun!” And, reaching
over the dash-board, he pricked the nag with his knife.

The animal jumped, and was on Pelt's heels again in an
instant. A volley of oaths and yells proclaimed the success
of Mad's experiment.

“I couldn't hold him in!” cried Sophy.

“Murder!” ejaculated Elphaz. “He trod right on my
foot! and he has almost killed the colonel! What the deuse
is the matter with him?”

“Tie him to the fence!” snarled the invalid. “Another
such blow would dislocate my neck.”

“Whoa, bonny; whoa!” said Elphaz, leading the beast
to the roadside. “Oh, my foot! I believe he has smashed
it! Whoa, — ho! — WHOA!” raising his voice to a
shriek, as, by another leap of the horse, he was knocked
against the wall, and jammed. “What in the old Harry,
Sophy!” —

“He acts dreadfully!” said Sophy. “Something must
be biting his heels.”

“He has finished me!” groaned Elphaz. “I never shall
step on that leg again! Oh, my knee!”

“Hurt ye much?” said Sophy sympathetically.

Pelt made no reply, but twisted one of the reins round a
stake in the wall, and, groaning and limping, walked about
the buggy to discover the cause of the animal's unruliness.
The impatience of the colonel did not give him time to ferret
out Mad, who lay in ambush, half covered by Sophy's skirts,
and ready at any moment to dash down his rival, and leap
over him, in case of discovery. Sophy, in constant terror of

some such catastrophe, entreated Elphaz to leave her where
she was, and take the invalid home; and drew a long breath
of relief when he consented.

“Now you must go, Mad! You are getting me into the
terriblest scrape that ever was!”

“Ain't it rich?” chuckled Mad, tickled to the heart's
core. “He's doing the job I've been paid ten dollars for;
and now I'm going to have a ride at his expense.”

“O Mad! you mustn't! you can't!”

But, the next minute, the wall was heard tumbling down.

“Scream! scream!” whispered Mad, springing into the
buggy after accomplishing this little feat and freeing the rein
from the stake.

“O-w-w! o-w-w!” shrieked Sophy. “Mr. P-e-l-t!”

“What is it?” roared Pelt in the distance.

“He has pulled the wall down, and I can't hold him!”
she replied by Mad's dictation.

Elphaz came running with all his might; but Mad had
already got the buggy headed in the other direction.

“Oh! quick, quick!” screamed Sophy.

“Stop him!” breathlessly shouted the lawyer.

“I can't!”

“Turn him into the fence!”

“He won't turn! Oh, I shall be killed!”

Pelt forgot his hurts, and ran as never lawyer ran before;
but Mad was down again at the dash-board with his knife,
which he used discreetly, regulating the horse's speed in a

manner to keep Pelt trotting after them at the distance of
a rod or two. If he grew discouraged, and lost breath, Mad
slacked up a little. If he started on again, in the hope of
catching the buggy by a strenuous effort, he was suffered
almost to reach it; then the horse was once more spurred into
a gallop, and he was left gasping and wheezing, with aching
lungs, far back in the darkness. It was Mad's intention to
play with his distress till the last moment, and take him as
far from the colonel as possible. And all this while Sophy
did not cease to scream, and to implore Elphaz to rescue
her from the fate that threatened. But there is a limit to
human endurance; and finally Pelt gave up the chase in
utter exhaustion and despair.

“This is fancy sport, Sophy! Hear him blow! And
the colonel — oh, ho!” laughed Mad convulsively.

“Do leave me now! You've had fun enough!” entreated
Sophy.

“No, not by a jug-full! The hoss is running away, you
know. Scream, keep screaming!”

And, seating himself comfortably at her side, Mad plied
the whip, and reined up the woodland road, bent on a jubilant
night's ride.