Si Klegg, Book 3
Page 3
CHAPTER III. THE DEACON GOES HOME
SHORTY FALLS A VICTIM TO HIS GAMBLING PROPENSITIES.
THE BOYS did not finish their tour of picket duty till the forenoon ofthe next day, and it was getting toward evening when they reached theirown camp.
"What in the world's going on at the house?" Si asked anxiously, as theywere standing on the regimental parade ground waiting to be dismissed.Strange sounds came floating from that direction. The scraping of afiddle was mingled with yells, the rush of feet, and laughter.
"I'll go over there and see," said the Deacon, who had sat down behindthe line on a pile of the things they had brought back with them. Hepicked up the coffee-pot, the frying-pan, and one of the haversacks,and walked in the direction of the house. As he turned into the companystreet and came in sight of the cabin he looked for an instant, and thenbroke out:
"I'm blamed if they don't seem to be havin' a nigger political rallythere, with the house as campaign headquarters. Where in time couldthey have all come from? Looks like a crow-roost, with some o' the crowsdrunk."
Apparently, all the negro cooks, teamsters, officers' servants, androustabouts from the adjoining camps{39} had been gathered there, withGroundhog, Pilgarlic, and similar specimens of the white teamsters amongthem and leading them.
THE NEGROES MERRYMAKING. 39]
Seated on a log were three negroes, one sawing on an old fiddle, onepicking a banjo, and one playing the bones. Two negroes were in thecenter of a ring, dancing, while the others patted "Juba." All were moreor less intoxicated. Groundhog and Pilgarlic were endeavoring to get upa fight between Abraham Lincoln and another stalwart, stupid negro,and were plying them with whisky from a canteen and egging them on withwords.{40}
The Deacon strode up to Groundhog and, catching him by the arm, demandedsternly:
"What are you doing, you miserable scoundrel? Stop it at once."
Groundhog, who had drunk considerable himself, and was pot-valiant,shook him off roughly, saying:
"G'way from here, you dumbed citizen. This hain't none o' your bizniss.Go back to your haymow and leave soldiers alone."
The Deacon began divesting himself of his burden to prepare for action,but before he could do so, Shorty rushed in, gave Groundhog a vigorouskick, and he and Si dispersed the rest of the crowd in a hurry withsharp cuffs for all they could reach. The meeting broke up without amotion to adjourn.
The Deacon caught Abraham Lincoln by the collar and shook himvigorously.
"You black rascal," he said, "what've you bin up to?"
"Didn't 'spect you back so soon. Boss," gasped the negro. "Said youwouldn't be back till termorrer."
"No matter when you expected us back," said the Deacon, shaking himstill harder, while Si winked meaningly at Shorty. "What d'ye mean bysich capers as this? You've bin a-drinkin' likker, you brute."
"Cel'bratun my freedom," gasped the negro. "Groundhog done tole me to."
"I'd like to celebrate his razzled head offen him," exploded the Deacon."I'll welt him into dog's meat hash if I kin lay my hands on him. He'stoo mean and wuthless to even associate with mules. If I'd a{41} dog onmy place as onery as he is I'd give him a button before night. He's notcontent with bein' a skunk himself; he wants to drag everybody else downto his level. Learnin' you to drink whisky and fight as soon as you'reout o' bondage. Next thing he'll be learnin' you to steal sheep and votefor Vallandigham. I'd like to put a stone around his neck and feed himto the catfish."
There was something so strange and earnest about the Deacon's wrath thatit impressed the negro more than any of the most terrible exhibitionsof wrath that he had seen his master make. He cowered down, and begancrying in a maudlin way and begging:
"Pray God, Boss, don't be so hard on a poor nigger."
Si, who had learned something more of the slave nature than his father,ended the unpleasant scene by giving Abraham Lincoln a sharp slap acrossthe hips with a piece of clapboard and ordering:
"Pick up that camp-kettle, go to the spring and fill it, and git backhere in short meter."
The blow came to the negro as a welcome relief. It was something thathe could understand. He sprang to his feet, grinned, snatched up thecampkettle, and ran to the spring.
"I must get that man away from here without delay," said the Deacon."The influences here are awful. They'll ruin him. He'll lose his soul ifhe stays here. I'll start home with him to-morrow."
"He'll do worse'n lose his soul," grumbled Shorty, who had been lookingover the provisions. "He'll lose the top of his woolly head if he bringsanother{42} gang o' coons around here to eat us out o' house and home.I'll be gosh durned if I don't believe they've eat up even all the saltand soap. There ain't a crumb left of anything. Talk about losin' hissoul. I'd give six bits for something to make him lose his appetite."
"I'll take him home to-morrow," reiterated the Deacon. "I raised over'leven hundred bushels o' corn last year, 'bout 500 o' wheat, and justan even ton o' pork. I kin feed him awhile, anyway, but I don't know asI'd chance two of him."
"What'll you do if you have him and the grasshoppers the same year,Pap?" inquired Si.
That night the Deacon began his preparations for returning home. He hadgathered up many relics from the battlefield to distribute amonghis friends at home and decorate the family mantlepiece. There werefragments of exploded shells, some canister, a broken bayonet, a smashedmusket, a solid 12-pound shot, and a quart or more of battered bulletspicked up in his walks over the scenes of the heavy fighting.
"Looks as if you were going into the junk business. Pap," commented Si,as the store was gathered on the floor.
The faithful old striped carpetsack was brought out, and its handlesrepaired with stout straps. The thrifty Deacon insisted on taking homesome of Si's and Shorty's clothes to be mended. The boys protested.
"We don't mend clothes in the army, Pap," said Si. "They ain't wuth it.We just wear 'em out throw 'em away, and draw new ones."
The Deacon held out that his mother and sisters{43} would take greatpleasure in working on such things, from the feeling that they werehelping the war along. Finally the matter was compromised by puttingin some socks to be darned and shirts to be mended. Then the bullets,canister, round-shot, fragments of shell, etc., were filled in.
"I declare," said the Deacon dubiously, as he hefted the carpetsack."It's goin' to be a job to lug that thing back home. Better hire amule-team. But I'll try it. Mebbe it'll help work some o' the stupidityout o' Abraham Lincoln."
The whole of Co. Q and most of the regiment had grown very fond of theDeacon, and when it was noised around that he was going, they crowdedin to say good-by, and give him letters and money to take home. Theremaining space in the carpetsack and all that in the Deacon's manypockets were filled with these.
The next morning the company turned out to a man and escorted him tothe train, with Si and his father marching arm-in-arm at the head, thecompany fifers playing,
"Ain't I glad to get out of the Wilderness, Way down in Tennessee,"
and Abraham Lincoln, laden with the striped carpetsack, the smashedmusket and other relics, bringing up the rear, under the supervision ofShorty. Tears stood in the old man's eyes as he stood on the platformof the car, and grasped Si's and Shorty's hands in adieu. His brieffarewell was characteristic of the strong, self-contained Western{44}man:
"Good-by, boys. God bless you. Take care of yourselves. Be good boys.Come home safe after the war."
KLEGG STARTS HOME. 45]
The boys stood and watched the train with sorrowful eyes until it hadpassed out of sight in the woods beyond Overall's Creek, and then turnedto go to their camp with a great load of homesickness weighing downtheir hearts.
"Just think of it; he's going straight back to God's country," saidsomeone near.
A sympathetic sigh went up from all.
"Shet up," said Shorty savagely. "I don't want to hear a word o' thatkind. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, rammed his hands deep in hispockets, and strode off,
trying to whistle
"When this cruel war is over,"
but the attempt was a dismal failure. Si separated from the crowd andjoined him. They took an unfrequented and roundabout way back to camp.
"I feel all broke up. Si," said Shorty. "I wish that we were goin' intoa fight, or something to stir us up."
Si understood his partner's mood, and that it was likely to result in anoutbreak of some kind. He tried to get him over to the house, so that hecould get him interested in work there.
They came to a little hidden ravine, and found it filled with menplaying that most fascinating of all gambling games to the averagesoldier--chucka-luck. There were a score of groups, each gathered aroundas{45} many "sweat-boards." Some of the men "running" the games werecitizens, and some were in uniform. Each had before him a small boardon which was sometimes painted, sometimes rudely marked with charcoal,numbers from 1 to 6.
On some of the boards the numbers were indicated by playing-cards, fromace to six-spot, tacked down. The man who "ran" the game had a dice-box,with three dice. He would shake the box, turn it upside{46} down on theboard, and call upon the group in front of him to make their bets.
The players would deposit their money on the numbers that they fancied,and then, after the inquiry, "All down?" the "banker" would raise thebox and reveal the dice. Those who had put their money on any of thethree numbers which had turned up, would be paid, while those who bet onthe other three would lose.
Chuck-a-luck was strictly prohibited in camp, but it was next toimpossible to keep the men from playing it. Citizen gamblers would gainadmittance to camp under various pretexts and immediately set up boardsin secluded places, and play till they were discovered and run out, bywhich time they would have made enough to make it an inducement to tryagain whenever they could find an opportunity. They followed the armyincessantly for this purpose, and in the aggregate carried off immensesums of the soldiers' pay. Chuck-a-luck is one of the fairest ofgambling games, when fairly played, which it rarely or never is bya professional gambler. A tolerably quick, expert man finds littledifficulty in palming the dice before a crowd of careless soldiers soas to transfer the majority of their bets to his pocket. Theregular citizen gamblers were reinforced by numbers of insatiablechuck-a-luckers in the ranks, who would set up a "board" at the leastchance, even under the enemy's fire, while waiting the order to move.
Chuck-a-luck was Shorty's greatest weakness. He found it as difficultto pass a chuck-a-luck board as an incurable drunkard does to pass adram-shop.{47}
Si knew this, and shuddered a little as he saw the "layouts," and triedto get his partner past them. But it was of no use. Shorty was in anintractable mood. He must have a strong distraction. If he could notfight he would gamble.
"I'm goin' to bust this feller's bank before I go another step," saidhe, stopping before one. "I know him. He's the same feller that, youremember, I busted down before Nashville. I kin do it agin. He's a bumcitizen gambler. He thinks he's the smartest chuck-a-lucker in the Armyo' the Cumberland, but I'll learn him different."
"Don't risk more'n a dollar," begged Si as a final appeal.
"All down?" called the "banker."
"Allow doublin'?" inquired Shorty.
"Double as much as you blamed please, so long's you put your moneydown," answered the "banker" defiantly.
"Well, then, here goes a dollar on that five-spot," said Shorty,"skinning" a bill from a considerable roll.
"Don't allow more'n 25 cents bet on single cards, first bet," said the"banker," dismayed by the size of the roll.
"Thought you had some sand," remarked Shorty contemptuously. "Well,then, here's 25 cents on the five-spot, and 25 cents on the deuce," andhe placed shin-plasters on the numbers. "Now, throw them dice straight,and no fingerin'. I'm watchin' you."
"Watch and be durned," said the "banker" surlily. "Watch your ownbusiness, and I'll watch mine. I'm as honest as you are any day."{48}
The "banker" lifted the box, and showed two sixes and a tray up. Heraked in the bets on the ace, deuce, four and five-spots, and paid theothers.
"Fifty cents on the deuce; 50 cents on the five," said Shorty, layingdown the fractional currency.
Again they lost.
"A dollar on the deuce; a dollar on the five," said Shorty.
The same ill luck.
"Two dollars on the deuce; two dollars on the five," said Shorty, thoughSi in vain plucked his sleeve to get him away.
The spots remained obstinately down.
"Four dollars on the deuce; four dollars on the five," said Shorty.
No better luck.
"Eight dollars on the deuce; eight dollars on the five," said Shorty.
"Whew, there goes more'n a month's pay," said the other players,stopping to watch the dice as they rolled out, with the deuce andfive-spot down somewhere else than on top. "And his roll's beginning tolook as if an elephant had stepped on it. Now we'll see his sand."
"Come, Shorty, you've lost enough. You've lost too much already. Luck'sagin you," urged Si. "Come away."
"I ain't goin'," said Shorty, obstinately. "Now's my chance to bust him.Every time them spots don't come up increases the chances that they'llcome up next time. They've got to. They're not loaded; I kin tell thatby the way they roll. He ain't fingerin' 'em; I stopped that when I madehim{49} give 'em a rollin' throw, instead o' keep in' 'em kivvered withthe box."
"Sixteen dollars on the deuce; sixteen dollars on the five-spot. And Iain't takin' no chances o' your jumpin' the game on me, Mr. Banker. Iwant you to plank down $32 alongside o' mine."
Shorty laid down his money and put his fists on it. "Now put yours rightthere."
"O, I've got money enough to pay you. Don't be skeered," sneered the"banker," "and you'll git it if you win it."
"You bet I will," answered Shorty. "And I'm goin' to make sure by havin'it right on the board alongside o' mine. Come down, now."
The proposition met the favor of the other players, and the "banker" wasconstrained to comply.
"Now," said Shorty, as the money was counted down, "I've jest $20 morethat says that I'll win. Put her up alongside."
The "banker" was game. He pulled out a roll and said as he thumbed itover:
"I'll see you $20, and go you $50 better that I win."
Shorty's heart beat a little faster. All his money was up, but there wasthe $50 which the Deacon had intrusted to him for charitable purposes.He slipped his hand into his bosom, felt it, and looked at Si. Si wasnot looking at him, but had his eyes fixed on a part of the boardwhere the dice had been swept after the last throw. Shorty resisted thetemptation for a moment, and withdrew his hand.
"Come down, now," taunted the "banker." "You've blowed so much aboutsand. Don't weaken over a{50} little thing like $50. I'm a thoroughbred,myself, I am. The man don't live that kin bluff me."
The taunt was too much for Shorty. He ran his hand into his bosom indesperation, pulled out the roll of the Deacon's money, and laid it onthe board.
Si had not lifted his eyes. He was wondering why the flies showed sucha liking for the part of the board where the dice were lying. Numbersof them had gathered there, apparently eagerly feeding. He was trying tounderstand it.
He had been thinking of trying a little shy at the four-spot himself,as he had noticed that it had never won, and two or three times he hadlooked for it before the dice were put in the box, and had seen the"banker" turn it down on the board before picking the dice up. A thoughtflashed into his mind.
The "banker" picked up the dice with seeming carelessness, dropped theminto the box, gave them a little shake, and rolled them out. Two threesand a six came up. The "banker's" face lighted up with triumph, andShorty's deadened into acute despair.
"I guess that little change is mine," said the "banker" reaching for thepile.
"Hold on a minnit. Mister," said Si, covering the pile with his massivehands. "Shorty, look at them dice. He's got molasses on one side. Youkin see there where the flies are eatin' it."
Just then someone yelled:
"Scatter! Here come the guards!"{51}
All looked up. A company coming at the doublequick was almost upon them.The "banker" made a final desperate claw for the money, but was met bythe heavy fist of Shorty and knocked on his back. Shorty grabbed whatmoney there was on the board, and he and Si made a burst of speed whichtook them out of reach of the "provos" in a few seconds. Looking backfrom a safe distance they could see the "bankers" and a lot of themore luckless ones being gathered together to march to the guard-house."Another detachment of horny-handed laborers for the fortifications,"said Shorty grimly, as he{52} recovered his breath, watched them, andsent up a yell of triumph and derision. "Another contribution to thecharity fund," he continued, looking down at the bunch of bills andfractional currency in his hands.
SHORTY SETTLES WITH THE BANKER. 51]
"Shorty," said Si earnestly, "promise me solemnly that you'll never betat chuck-a-luck agin as long as you live."
"Si, don't ask me impossibilities. But I want you to take every cento' this money and keep it. Don't you ever give me more'n $5 at a time,under any consideration. Don't you do it, if I git down on my knees andask for it. Lord, how nigh I come to losin' that $50 o' your father's."