V
BUMBLEPUPPY
Bumblepuppy is a synonym of whist played in defiance of certain time-honoured conventions and principles. Ajax said with reason thatJohnnie Kapus, the nephew of our neighbour, old man Kapus, played thegame of life in such a sorry, blundering fashion that he marvelled whyhis uncle gave him house-room. Ajax christened Johnnie--Bumble-puppy.
Once we hired Johnnie to work for us at the rate of half-a-dollar aday. A heavy rain-storm had just taken place, and my brother insistedthat Johnnie was the right man to fill up the "wash-outs" in and aboutthe corrals. He was strong, big, docile as a cow, and he lived withina few hundred yards of the ranch-house.
Johnnie was provided with a spade and a wheelbarrow, and led to agaping hole beneath the barn. I explained that the rain had washedaway the soil and made the hole, which must be filled up before morerain should fall.
"Wheer shall I git the dirt from?" Johnnie demanded.
"From the most convenient place," said I. Ajax and I returned to thebarn an hour later. The hole was filled; but another hole, from whichJohnnie had taken the dirt, as large as the first, seriouslythreatened the under-pinning of the building.
Ajax swore. Johnnie looked at me, as he drawled out:
"The boss told me to git the dirt wheer 'twas mos' handy."
Ajax grinned.
"I see. It was the boss' fault, not yours. Now then, Johnnie, the workmust be done all over again."
"If you say so, boys, I'll do it."
As we moved away Ajax pointed out the propriety of giving explicitdirections. At dinner time we came back to the barn. Johnnie had takenthe earth out of the first hole and put it back again into the second!
"You star-spangled fool!" said Ajax.
"You tole me," replied Johnnie, "that the work mus' be did all overagen--an' I done it."
"Directions," I remarked, "may be made too explicit."
After this incident, we always spoke of Johnnie as Bumblepuppy.
Some six months later Alethea-Belle told us that Johnnie Kapus wasdoing "chores" for the widow Janssen; milking her cow, taking care ofthe garden, and drawing water. Upon inquiry, however, we learned thatthe cow was drying up, the well had caved in, and the garden producedno weeds, it is true, and no vegetables!
"Why doesn't the widow sack him?" Ajax asked.
"Mis' Janssen is kinder sorry for Johnnie," replied theschoolmistress; then she added irrelevantly, "There's no denyin' thatJohnnie Kapus has the loveliest curly hair."
About a fortnight after this, when the July sun was at its zenith andthe starch out of everything animate and inanimate, old man Kapus cameup to the ranch-house. Johnnie, he said, disappeared during theprevious night.
"And he's bin kidnapped, too," the uncle added.
"Kidnapped?"
"Yes, boys--hauled out o' winder! A man weighin' close onter twohundred pounds 'd naterally prefer to walk out o' the door, but thewidder hauled Johnnie out o' winder."
"The widow?"
"Mis' Janssen. There was buggy tracks at the foot o' the melon patch,and the widder's missin'. She's put it up to marry my Johnnie. Isuspicioned something, but I counted on Johnnie. I sez to myself:'Others might be tempted by a plump, well-lookin' widder, but notJohnnie.' Ye see, boys, Johnnie ain't quite the same as you an' me."
"Not quite," said Ajax.
"Mebbee ye've wondered why I sot sech store by Johnnie. Wal--I'll tellye. Johnnie's paw an' me was brothers an' pardners afore the war. An'after Bull Run John sez to me: 'Abram,' he sez, 'we mustn't let OleGlory trail in the dust.' That's what he sez. 'John,' I answers, 'whatkin we do to prevent it?' '_Enlist_,' sez he. An' we done it. Butafore we go within smellin' distance o' the rebs, yes, boys, afore wesaw 'em, a bullet comes slam-bang into John's head."
The old man paused, overcome. We turned our eyes from his wrinkled,troubled face, as Ajax entreated him to say no more.
"He died in defence of his flag," I muttered.
"Ah!" exclaimed Johnnie's uncle, "I thought you'd say that. No, boys,John didn't die. A Kapus takes a heap o' killin.' John up an lived--an' _married_! He married my girl, too, Susie Bunker. Susie feltawful sorry for him, for that there rebel bullet had kinder madescrambled eggs with pore John's brains. I let Susie marry John,because I knew that he needed a good woman's keer. And then Johnniewas born: a whoppin' baby, but with a leetle something missin' in hispurty head. Then John died, and soon enough Susie got peaked-face an'lost her relish fer food. She tuk a notion that John needed hert'otherside. Just afore she sent in her checks, she give me Johnnie,an' she ast my pardon for marryin' John instead o' me. I tole her shedone right. An' I promised to look after Johnnie. Up to date, boys, Ihev. But now that darned widder woman has onexpectedly kidnapped him.What kin I do?"
"The widow will look after both of you," I suggested.
"What! Share my Johnnie with her? Not much. She stole that there boyfrom me by force. By Jing! I'll take him from her without liftin' afinger. Ye see, Johnnie is mighty apt to disappint the widder.Sometimes--more often than not--Johnnie _is_--disappintin'! Iallus jedge the pore boy by contrairies. Most o' men when they marryair apt to forgit them as raised 'em, but Johnnie'll pine fer me. Iknow it. Bless his heart, he can't git along nohow without me."
Listening to this simple talk, watching the old man's rough, honestface, my own heart grew chill with apprehension. The widow had a smallincome and many charms. It was certain that Johnnie's curly hair,bright blue eyes, and stalwart figure had captivated her fancy. Pityhad bloomed into love. The pair must have driven--as fast as thewidow's steed could travel--into San Lorenzo. By this time, high noon,the licence, doubtless, had been issued and the marriage solemnised byparson or justice of the peace. Once married, no man--not even old manKapus--would be justified in tearing Bumblepuppy from the fond arms ofhis bride.
We asked Johnnie's uncle to dine with us. He thanked us warmly.
"Boys, you surmise that I'm feelin' lonesome. And I am. But I won't belonesome long. The widder can't let that cow o' hers go without twomilkin's, an' her pigs an' chickens must be fed. She'll be back in thevillage 'bout four or five; an' to-night, to-night, boys, my Johnnie'll be home to supper."
Ajax discreetly descanted upon the widow's fine complexion, but oldman Kapus lent him but an indifferent ear.
"She's fat an' slick," he admitted, "but Johnnie's fat an' slick, too.An' who made him so? Why--his uncle Abram. D'ye think now that I'vefed him up and got him into sech fine shape that he'll leave me? No,sir. You might act that-a-way, but not my Johnnie."
After dinner, we accompanied Uncle Abram as far as the creek whichflows between the village and our domain. Here stand some finecottonwood trees and half-a-dozen lordly white-oaks. The spot isfamous as a picnicking ground, and in the heat of summer is as cool aplace as may be found in the county. And here, paddling in the brooklike an urchin, we found Bumblepuppy. His eyes sparkled as they fellupon the face of his uncle.
"Ye've got back, Johnnie," said the old man.
"Yas. 'Twas hotter'n a red-hot stove on the road."
"Ye druv in with the widder woman?"
"Yas. I druv in with her; but I walked back. Guess I run the most o'the way, too."
"An' Mis' Janssen--wheer is she?"
"I dunno', uncle Abram."
"Is she still a widder woman, Johnnie?"
"She was when I left her," said Bumblepuppy.
He had ascended the bank. Sitting down, he began to put on his socks.I noted the admirable symmetry of calf and ankle; I thought of thelungs and muscles which had sustained the superb body during a twenty-six mile run between blazing earth and sky.
"What in thunder did ye go to town fer?" asked the old man. "Speak up,Johnnie. Give us the cold facts."
Then Bumblepuppy made the speech of his life.
"Uncle Abram, you tole me to obey Mis' Janssen, an' do what she said."
"That's so, Johnnie."
"Yesday, she tole me to fix up an' be ready to go to San Lorenzy withher. She said we'd trave
l by night 'cause o' the heat. An' she said Iwas not to 'sturb you. She said she'd come to the winder an' tap. ThenI'd crawl out without 'sturbin' you. Wal--she come around about two,jest as the roosters was a'crowin 'fer the second time. I slipped outo' winder in my stockined feet. I hope I didn't 'sturb ye?"
"Ye didn't. Go on."
"In town Mis' Janssen said she'd fixed it up to marry me. She said Ineeded a lovin' wife, and that me an' she'd have a Fourth o' July timetogether. I said nothing, 'cause you'd tole me never to interrup' alady when she was a-talkin'. She kep' on a-talkin' till we got to theCourt House, where Mis' Janssen bought a licence. Then we hunted aminister. Bimeby, he ast me if I was willin' to take Sairy AnneJanssen to be my wife----"
"An' ye said NO, my own Johnnie?"
"That's what I done, Uncle Abram. And then she sez, kinder wheedlin':'But you will marry yer Sairy Anne, Johnnie, won't ye?' And then,gittin' scared, I kinder forgot my manners, fer I said: 'No--I'm d----d if I will!' An' I disremember what she said nex', but I found myselfin the road, a-runnin' like a mad steer. Jee! that road was hotter'n ared-hot stove!"
During the recital of this adventure Bumblepuppy's face had deepenedin tint till it glowed like an iron disc in the heart of a fire. As hefinished speaking, he knelt down and dipped his head into the cool,bubbling creek. Lifting up his ruddy face, a ray of sunshine,filtering through the tremulous leaves of the cottonwoods, fell fullupon his chestnut curls, and each drop of water on his hair became ofa sudden a gem of prismatic colour and most brilliant lustre.
"Phew-w-w!" said Bumblepuppy. "I hope Mis' Janssen ain't feelin' aswarm as I am."
Bunch Grass: A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch Page 7
