University of Virginia Library

8. VIII.
ONE OF PELEG'S JOKES.

The next day I dined with the Thorntons.

Susie improved on acquaintance. After dinner she
showed me her cheeses, and took me into the garden, and
was gathering a bouquet for me; and, as I may as well
confess, a very delightful familiarity was growing up between
us, when — in rushed Mr. Green.

Again, in the evening, I went to pay my respects to the
widow, and was enjoying a very quiet and pleasing conversation
with that charming lady, when — in popped Peleg.
Which of the two fair ones did he fancy? or had he an
Oriental preference for both?

Day after day, as I lingered in the place, without well
knowing why, the fellow seemed to have given up his
ordinary pursuits in order to devote himself exclusively to
their guardianship. He followed me pertinaciously, from

village to farm, and from farm to village, as if the great
business of existence with him was to prevent any confidential
communication between me and either of the
aforesaid young women.

Shrewd, energetic, good-looking, not half so illiterate as
he appeared, making fun wherever he went, he was, I
found, a very general favorite. But my original prejudice
against him, instead of diminishing, increased, and became
very violent when I observed that Susie, who had soon
learned to entertain me with a simple grace, a bird-like
joyousness, when we were alone together, invariably grew
reserved toward me the moment he appeared.

So two or three (I don't know but four) weeks passed.
And still some fascination kept me in Shoemake. And still
Mr. Green followed me with that suspicious nose of his,
which I observed with satisfaction was long, and offered
excellent conveniences for tweaking, until one afternoon
found us four embarked in a sail boat on Shoemake Creek.
I had invited Susie and Mrs. Pellet, and Peleg had invited
himself, joining us just as we were getting into the boat.

“Hello!” said he, appearing very much astonished.
“Jest in the nick o' time, a'n't I? Seems to be plenty o'
room in yer canoe; guess I may as well jump in.”

And jump in he did accordingly, before I could push off.

The water sets back a mile or more from the dam, and
raises Shoemake Creek to the dignity of a river. Through
green meadows it winds placidly between banks fringed
with alders, willows, and elms, festooned with woodbines
and wild grapes.

The wind failed us as we were returning, and I made
Peleg work his passage. He rested on the oars, and we
floated down the current, which was calm and glassy under
the evening sky, and Susie sang a song that made me feel
unusually sentimental, and the widow sigh, “How sweet!”

“Waal, it is some sweet,” Peleg admitted, as we drifted
around a bend of the stream, and came upon an exquisitely
tranquil picture of cool green water embowered in
cool green foliage overhanging the bank.

“Gals, I 'm a going to show ye the mill-dam,” said Peleg,
rowing down stream. “Did you ever see it, Mr. Blazay? I
come perty nigh going over the dam thing once.”

“Peleg,” said the melancholy Laura, “please don't be
profane, will you?”

“No, I won't,” said Peleg, solemnly. “I mean the
mill-d—m. Can't guess how I saved myself, Mr. Blazay?”

“By using your nose for a setting-pole?” I suggested.

“Mr. Blazay,” said Peleg, “I owe you one! But my
nose a'n't quite so long as that man's was who always had
to take two steps forward to touch the end on 't. He was
brother to the man that was so tall” (measuring me from
head to foot) “he had to go up a ladder to comb his hair.
And he could run so — 'specially if a bee was after him —
that, give him a fair chance, he could come out several
rods ahead of his own shadow. He ran around an apple-tree
once so fast that he 'most ketched up with himself,
and could see his own coat-tails jest ahead of him.”

So much I got for descending to the vulgarity of a personal
allusion. Even Laura was forced to smile, and Susie
fairly screamed.

“Everybody laughs at those jokes; I always do,” said
I, “whenever I hear them. I can remember laughing at
them as long ago as when I was a small boy.”

“Them jokes? What very old bachelors they must be,
then!” said the impudent fellow. “They must be bald
enough by this time! How many years ago did you
say?”

“We all admire your wit, Mr. Green,” I replied, sternly.

“But I would advise you just now to bestow your chief
attention upon the management of the boat, for you are
getting us into a dangerous position.”

Peleg grinned as he turned the boat in the current, letting
the stern swing around toward the dam. The swift,
smooth water shot beneath us dark and strong, breaking
into a silver curve almost within reach of my cane, then
plunging with thunder and foam down into an agitated
and vapory basin. Mr. Green suffered us to drift almost
to the brink. I was in the stern, and could look straight
over the falls. The girls screamed.

“Don't be the least mite scared, gals,” said the facetious
Peleg, keeping the boat on the verge with easy strokes of
the oars. “Even if she should go over I could ketch her
'fore Mr. Blazay's coat-tails touched the water, and row
her right up over the dam again.”

“Mr. Green,” I cried, seriously, “take care! An oar
may break, then over we go, — nothing could prevent it.”

“All but Laury,” said Peleg; “she can't git over a dam,
ye know!”

“By Heaven,” said I, alarmed, “we are going!”

“Yes, Blazay first,” chuckled Peleg. “He likes to be
first in everything.”

“I see,” said I, now much excited, “I am destined to
give that fellow a thrashing.”

“Sho!” said Mr. Green, “I want to know. This is a
leetle more fun than I bargained fur. I 'xpected the gals
would be a trifle skittish, but I did n't think Blazay would
kick in the traces.”

We were right over the smoking chasm, where a single
false stroke of an oar might precipitate us into it. Susie,
with a pale, frightened face, instinctively shrank to my
side and clasped my arm. I felt a thrill, which made me
for a moment forget the danger. The spray wet us, thunder

and mist filled the air, the whirlpool foamed and
boiled below, and I was happy.

“O dear, dear Peleg!” pleaded Laura, her rich mellow
tones heard even above the roar of the falls, “if you
have any regard for me, don't.”

“I can't help it,” said Peleg, pretending to lose his
power over the boat, and actually letting the stern project
over the dam.

I threw my arm around Susie, and she nestled tremblingly
to my heart. At the sight that wretch Peleg
missed a stroke. The boat shot forward, — we hung upon
the brink! He struck the blades again, just in time to
check our progress, and, putting forth all his strength,
might have saved us, had not Laura, beside herself with
terror, sprung up in the bow of the boat.

“Mercy!” she shrieked, and, flinging abroad her lovely
arms, threw herself headlong upon Peleg.

Of course that settled the business. The boat swept
sheer over the dam with all on board, filling and capsizing
instantly.