A Cry in the WildernessWaller, Mary E. (Mary Ella)
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A Cry in the Wilderness
Waller, Mary E. (Mary Ella)
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Québec (Province) -- Fiction
"'All right,' says I; an' we set off, George takin' the five-rail
fences at one bound an' walkin' as if on air.
"He was jest lettin' down the bars an' callin' the colts by name, when
we heard a team comin' from the north. Both of us stopped ter listen
an' see what 't was, fer there war n't but one road over the hill on
the north side, an' thet was so steep it war n't travelled many times a
year. We could look right down the slope of the pasture onter the road
'bout a hundred foot below, an', in a minute, a team hove in sight--the
horse followin' pretty much his own lead an' feelin' his way down as
best he could.
"There was a man an' a woman in the buggy pretty well occupied with one
'nother, fer his arm was round her, an' her head was leanin' on his
shoulder. Somehow I did n't like the look of it, an' I was jest
turnin' ter George ter say so, when I heard sech an oath from his lips
as gives me the creeps every time I think on 't.
"There war n't no time ter say a word, fer I see what he see jest as
plain as the sun in the sky:--the woman liftin' her face a little an'
the man kissin' her over 'n over again.... 'T was Happy.
"'Do you see thet?' says George, turnin' ter me with a glare like a
madman.
"'Yes,' says I, fer I could n't get out another word.
"'You lie!' says he, 'an' if you say thet again it 'll be the last word
as leaves your body alive!'
"An' with thet he sprung at me like a tiger, an' the Lord only knows 't
was my great pity fer him thet held my hand. But he did n't touch
me--oh, no! His hand dropped as if it had been shot, an', leanin' all
white an' quiverin' up against the fence, he dropped his head onter his
folded arms an' burst inter great sobs thet shook the rails. It was
like one of them spring freshets thet tears up the face of nature, an'
I knew he 'd be the better fer it, fer he was only a boy in his years,
if he was a man in his love.
"'You ain't goin' ter let 'em go?' was the first words I could muster
courage to say, as I see him turnin' back ter the pasture bars again.
"'Yes, I 'm goin' ter let them go--ter the devil,' he muttered, between
his teeth; then, turnin' ter me, as cool an' calm as if there war n't a
woman nor a sarpent in the world, he says:
"'You know, Si, there 's the colts ter be ketched, an' it's gettin'
late.'
"An', by the Lord Harry, they was ketched! I never see sech racin' an'
tearin' an' rarin'! He was all over the pasture ter once, so it
seemed, headin' 'em off, hangin' on ter their manes, throwin' himself
astride of fust one then 'nother. I thought the old pasture would be
ploughed ready fer spring sowin', the way their heels tore up the sod.
I dass n't help him fer I knew the madness thet had been on him, an'
the heat he was in, was workin' off thet way. So I kept out of his
way, an' within three quarters of an hour he 'd got those four colts
well in hand an' started fer home.
"Mother told me the rest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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