Frank's Campaign; Or, The Farm and the Camp

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER X. LITTLE POMP

  There was a hurried good-by at the depot.

  "Kiss the children for me, Mary," said her husband.

  "You will write very soon?" pleaded Mrs. Frost.

  "At the very first opportunity."

  "All aboard!" shouted the conductor.

  With a shrill scream the locomotive started.

  Frank and his mother stood on the platform watching the receding traintill it was quite out of sight, and then in silence our young heroassisted his mother into the carryall and turned the horse's headhomeward.

  It was one of those quiet October mornings, when the air is soft andbalmy as if a June day had found its way by mistake into the heart ofautumn. The road wound partly through the woods. The leaves were stillgreen and abundant. Only one or two showed signs of the coming change,which in the course of a few weeks must leave them bare and leafless.

  "What a beautiful day!" said Frank, speaking the words almostunconsciously.

  "Beautiful indeed!" responded his mother. "On such a day as this theworld seems too lovely for war and warlike passions to be permitted toenter it. When men might be so happy, why need they stain their handswith each other's blood?"

  Frank was unprepared for an answer. He knew that it was his father'sdeparture which led his mother to speak thus. He wished to divert hermind, if possible.

  Circumstances favored his design.

  They had accomplished perhaps three-quarters of the distance home when,as they were passing a small one-story building by the roadside, ashriek of pain was heard, and a little black boy came running out of thehouse, screaming in affright: "Mammy's done killed herself. She's mos'dead!"

  He ran out to the road and looked up at Mrs. Frost, as if to imploreassistance.

  "That's Chloe's child," said Mrs. Frost. "Stop the horse, Frank; I'llget out and see what has happened."

  Chloe, as Frank very well knew, was a colored woman, who until a fewmonths since had been a slave in Virginia. Finally she had seized afavorable opportunity, and taking the only child which the cruel slavesystem had left her, for the rest had been sold South, succeeded inmaking her way into Pennsylvania. Chance had directed her to Rossville,where she had been permitted to occupy, rent free, an old shanty whichfor some years previous had been uninhabited. Here she had supportedherself by taking in washing and ironing. This had been her special workon the plantation where she had been born and brought up, and she wastherefore quite proficient in it. She found no difficulty in obtainingwork enough to satisfy the moderate wants of herself and little Pomp.

  The latter was a bright little fellow, as black as the ace of spades,and possessing to the full the mercurial temperament of the Southernnegro. Full of fun and drollery, he attracted plenty of attention whenhe came into the village, and earned many a penny from the boys by hisplantation songs and dances.

  Now, however, he appeared in a mood entirely different, and it was easyto see that he was much frightened.

  "What's the matter, Pomp?" asked Frank, as he brought his horse to astandstill.

  "Mammy done killed herself," he repeated, wringing his hands in terror.

  A moan from the interior of the house seemed to make it clear thatsomething had happened.

  Mrs. Frost pushed the door open and entered.

  Chloe had sunk down on the floor and was rocking back and forth, holdingher right foot in both hands, with an expression of acute pain on hersable face. Beside her was a small pail, bottom upward.

  Mrs. Frost was at no loss to conjecture the nature of the accident whichhad befallen her. The pail had contained hot water, and its accidentaloverturn had scalded poor Chloe.

  "Are you much hurt, Chloe?" asked Mrs. Frost sympathizingly.

  "Oh, missus, I's most dead," was the reply, accompanied by a groan."'Spect I sha'n't live till mornin'. Dunno what'll become of poor Pompwhen I'se gone."

  Little Pomp squeezed his knuckles into his eyes and responded with anunearthly howl.

  "Don't be too much frightened, Chloe," said Mrs. Frost soothingly."You'll get over it sooner than you think. How did the pail happen toturn over?"

  "Must have been de debbel, missus. I was kerryin' it just as keerful,when all at once it upsot."

  This explanation, though not very luminous to her visitor, appeared toexcite a fierce spirit of resentment against the pail in the mind oflittle Pomp.

  He suddenly rushed forward impetuously and kicked the pail with all theforce he could muster.

  But, alas for poor Pomp! His feet were unprotected by shoes, and thesudden blow hurt him much more than the pail. The consequence was a howlof the most distressing nature.

  Frank had started forward to rescue Pomp from the consequences of hisprecipitancy, but too late. He picked up the little fellow and, carryinghim out, strove to soothe him.

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Frost examined Chloe's injuries. They were not so greatas she had anticipated. She learned on inquiry that the water had notbeen scalding hot. There was little doubt that with proper care shewould recover from her injuries in a week or ten days. But in themeantime it would not do to use the foot.

  "What shall I do, missus?" groaned Chloe. "I ain't got nothin' baked up.'Pears like me and Pomp must starve."

  "Not so bad as that, Chloe," said Mrs. Frost, with a reassuring smile."After we have you on the bed we will take Pomp home with us, and givehim enough food to last you both a couple of days. At the end of thattime, or sooner, if you get out, you can send him up again."

  Chloe expressed her gratitude warmly, and Mrs. Frost, calling in Frank'sassistance, helped the poor woman to a comfortable position on thebed, which fortunately was in the corner of the same room. Had itbeen upstairs, the removal would have been attended with considerabledifficulty as well as pain to Chloe.

  Pomp, the acuteness of whose pain had subsided, looked on with wonderingeyes while Frank and Mrs. Frost "toted" his mother onto the bed, as heexpressed it.

  Chloe accepted, with wondering gratitude, the personal attentions ofMrs. Frost, who bound up the injured foot with a softness of touch whichbrought no pain to the sufferer.

  "You ain't too proud, missus, to tend to a poor black woman," she said."Down Souf dey used to tell us dat everybody looked down on de poornigger and lef' 'em to starve an' die if dey grow sick."

  "They told you a great many things that were not true, Chloe," said Mrs.Frost quietly. "The color of the skin ought to make no difference wherewe have it in our power to render kind offices."

  "Do you believe niggers go to de same heaven wid w'ite folks, missus?"asked Chloe, after a pause.

  "Why should they not? They were made by the same God."

  "I dunno, missus," said Chloe. "I hopes you is right."

  "Do you think you can spare Pomp a little while to go home with us?"

  "Yes, missus. Here you, Pomp," she called, "you go home wid dis goodlady, and she'll gib you something for your poor sick mudder. Do youhear?"

  "I'se goin' to ride?" said Pomp inquiringly.

  "Yes," said Frank good-naturedly.

  "Hi, hi, dat's prime!" ejaculated Pomp, turning a somersault in his joy.

  "Scramble in, then, and we'll start."

  Pomp needed no second invitation. He jumped into the carriage, and wasmore leisurely followed by Frank and his mother.

  It was probably the first time that Pomp had ever been in a coveredcarriage, and consequently the novelty of his situation put him in highspirits.

  He was anxious to drive, and Frank, to gratify him, placed the reinsin his hands. His eyes sparkling with delight, and his expanded mouthshowing a full set of ivories, Pomp shook the reins in glee, shoutingout, "Hi, go along there, you ol' debble!"

  "Pomp, you mustn't use that word," said Mrs. Frost reprovingly.

  "What word, missus?" demanded Pomp innocently.

  "The last word you used," she answered.

  "Don't 'member what word you mean, missus," said Pomp. "Hi, you debble!"

  "That's the word?"

&nbs
p; "Not say 'debble'?" said Pomp wonderingly. "Why not, missus?"

  "It isn't a good word."

  "Mammy says 'debble.' She calls me little debble when I run away, anddon't tote in de wood."

  "I shall tell her not to use it. It isn't a good word for anybody touse."

  "Hope you'll tell her so, missus," said Pomp, grinning and showing histeeth. "Wheneber she calls me little debble she pulls off her shoe andhits me. Hurts like de debble. Mebbe she won't hit me if you tell hernot to say 'debble.'"

  Mrs. Frost could hardly forbear laughing. She managed, however, topreserve a serious countenance while she said, "You must take care tobehave well, and then she won't have to punish you."

  It is somewhat doubtful whether Pomp heard this last remark. He espied apig walking by the side of the road, and was seized with a desire to runover it. Giving the reins a sudden twitch, he brought the carriage roundso that it was very near upsetting in a gully.

  Frank snatched the reins in time to prevent this catastrophe.

  "What did you do that for, Pomp?" he said quickly.

  "Wanted to scare de pig," exclaimed Pomp, laughing. "Wanted to hear himsqueal."

  "And so you nearly tipped us over."

  "Didn't mean to do dat, Mass' Frank. 'Pears like I didn't think."

  Mrs. Frost was too much alarmed by this narrow escape to consent toPomp's driving again, and for the moment felt as if she should like tousurp his mother's privilege of spanking him. But the little imp lookedso unconscious of having done anything wrong that her vexation soonpassed away.

  In half an hour Pomp was on his way back, laden with a basketful ofprovisions for his sick mother and himself.