shore work o' him, he was a-takin' her along to make shore of his
gittin' his revenge; and he swore he'd kill her and the baby too ef
she dared to whimper. And so it was, through a hunderd hardships he'd
made his way at last to our section o' the country, givin' out 'at
they was man and wife, and keepin' her from denyin' of it by threats,
and promises of the time a-comin' when he'd send her home to her man
agin in case he hadn't killed him. And so it run on tel you'd a-cried
to hear her tell it, and still see her sister's love far the feller
a-breakin' out by a-declarin' how kind he was to her _at times_, and
how he wasn't railly bad at heart, on'y far his ungov'nable temper.
But I couldn't he'p but notice, when she was a tellin' of her hist'ry,
what a quiet sort o' look o' satisfaction settled on the face o' Steve
and the rest of 'em, don't you understand.
And now ther' was on'y one thing she wanted to ast, she said; and that
was, could she still make her home with us tel she could git word to
her friends?--and there she broke down agin, not knowin', of course,
whether _they_ was dead er alive; far time and time agin she said
somepin' told her she'd never see her husband agin on this airth; and
then the women-folks would cry with her and console her, and the boys
would speak hopeful--all but Steve; some way o' nuther Steve was never
like hisse'f from that time on.
And so things went far a month and better. Ever'thing had quieted
down, and Ezry and a lot o' hands, and me and Steve amongst 'em, was
a-workin' on the frame-work of another mill. It was purty weather, and
we was all in good sperits, and it 'peared like the whole neighberhood
was interested--and they _-was_, too--women-folks and ever'body. And
that day Ezry's woman and amongst 'em was a-gittin' up a big dinner to
fetch down to us from the house; and along about noon a spruce-lookin'
young feller, with a pale face and a black beard, like, come a-ridin'
by and hitched his hoss, and comin' into the crowd, said "Howdy,"
pleasant like, and we all stopped work as he went on to say 'at he was
on the track of a feller o' the name o' 'Williams,' and wanted to know
ef we could give him any infermation 'bout sich a man. Told him
maybe,--'at a feller bearin' that name desappeared kind o' myster'ous
from our neighberhood 'bout five weeks afore that. "My God!" says he,
a-turnin' paler'n ever, "am I too late? Where did he go, and was his
sister and her baby with him?" Jist then I ketched sight o' the
women-folks a-comin' with the baskets, and Annie with 'em, with a jug
o' worter in her hand; so I spoke up quick to the stranger, and says
I, "I guess 'his sister and baby' wasn't along," says I, "but his
_wife_ and _baby's_ some'eres here in the neighberhood yit." And then
a-watchin' him clos't, I says, suddent, a-pin'tin' over his shoulder,
"There his woman is now--that one with the jug, there." Well, Annie
had jist stooped to lift up one o' the little girls, when the feller
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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