In the Tennessee mountainsCraddock, Charles Egbert
General
In the Tennessee mountains
Craddock, Charles Egbert
Mountain life -- Tennessee -- Fiction; Short stories, American; Tennessee -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
The tallow dip, that had long been flickering near its end, suddenly
went out, and the party suffered a partial eclipse. Josiah Tait dragged
the inverted basket closer to the door and into the full brilliance
of the moon, declaring that neither Wray nor he should leave the
house till he had retrieved his misfortunes or lost every thing in
the effort. The host, feeling that even hospitality has its limits,
did not offer to light another expensive candle, but threw a quantity
of pine-knots on the smouldering coals; presently a white blaze was
streaming up the chimney, and in the mingled light of fire and moon the
game went on.
"Ye oughter take keer, Josiah," remonstrated the sad-voiced
store-keeper, as a deep groan and a deep curse emphasized the result of
high, jack, and game for Wray, and low alone for Tait. "An' it's 'bout
time ter quit."
"Dad-burn the luck!" exclaimed Josiah, in a hard, strained voice, "I
ain't a-goin' ter leave this hyar spot till I hev won back them thar
critters o' mine what he hev tuk. An' I kin do it,--I kin do it in one
more game. I'll bet--I'll bet"--he paused in bewildered excitement; he
had already lost to Wray everything available as a stake. There was a
sudden unaccountable gleam of malice on the lucky winner's face; the
quick glance flashed in the moonlight into the distended hot eyes of
his antagonist. Wray laughed silently, and began to push his chair away
from the basket.
"Stop! stop!" cried Josiah, hoarsely. "I hev got a house,--a house
an' fifty acres, nigh about. I'll bet the house an' land agin what ye
hev won from me,--them two cows, an' the brindled heifer, an' the
gray mare, an' the clay-bank filly, an' them ten hogs, an' the yoke o'
steers, an' the wagon, an' the corn,--them two loads o' corn: that will
'bout make it even, won't it?" He leaned forward eagerly as he asked
the question.
"Look a-hyar, Josiah," exclaimed the store-keeper, aghast, "this hyar
is a-goin' too fur! Hain't ye los' enough a'ready but ye must be
a-puttin' up the house what shelters ye? Look at me, now: I ain't done
los' nothin' but the half-bushel measure, an' I hev got it back agin.
An' it air a blessin' that I _hev_ got it agin, for 'twould hev been
mighty ill-convenient round hyar 'thout it."
"Will ye take it?" said Josiah, almost pleadingly, persistently
addressing himself to Wray, regardless of the remonstrant host. "Will
ye put up the critters agin the house an' land?"
Wray made a feint of hesitating. Then he signified his willingness
by seating himself and beginning to deal the cards, saying before he
looked at his hand, "That thar house an' land o' yourn agin the truck
ez I hev won from ye?"
"Oh, Lord, boys, this _must_ be sinful!" remonstrated the proprietor
of the cherished half-bushel measure, appalled by the magnitude of the
interests involved.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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