The Phantoms of the Foot-Bridge, and Other StoriesCraddock, Charles Egbert
General
The Phantoms of the Foot-Bridge, and Other Stories
Craddock, Charles Egbert
Cumberland Mountains -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction; Tennessee -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
The pervasive light without dissipated in some degree the gloom within
the grotto; a sort of gray visibility was on the appurtenances and the
figures about the still, not strong enough to suggest color, but giving
contour. His fright had been marked, he knew; a sort of surprised
reflectiveness was in the manner of several of the moonshiners, and
Nehemiah, with his ready fears, fancied that this inopportune show of
terror had revived their suspicions of him. It required some effort to
steady his nerves after this, and when footfalls were again audible
outside, and all the denizens of the place sat calmly smoking their
pipes without so much as a movement toward investigating the sound, he,
knowing whose steps he had invited thither, had great ado with the
coward within to keep still, as if he had no more reason to fear an
approach than they.
A great jargon in the tone of ecstasy broke suddenly on the air upon
this new entrance, shattering what little composure Nehemiah had been
able to muster; a wide-mouthed exaggeration of welcome in superlative
phrases and ready chorus. Swiftly turning, he saw nothing for a moment,
for he looked at the height which a man's head might reach, and the
new-comer measured hardly two feet in stature, waddled with a very
uncertain gait, and although he bore himself with manifest complacence,
he had evidently heard the like before, as he was jovially hailed by
every ingratiating epithet presumed to be acceptable to his infant mind.
He was attended by a tall, gaunt boy of fifteen, barefooted, with
snaggled teeth and a shock of tow hair, wearing a shirt of unbleached
cotton, and a pair of trousers supported by a single suspender drawn
across a sharp, protuberant shoulder-blade behind and a very narrow
chest in front. But his face was proud and happy and gleeful, as if he
occupied some post of honor and worldly emolument in attending upon the
waddling wonder on the floor in front of him, instead of being assigned
the ungrateful task of seeing to it that a very ugly baby closely
related to him did not, with the wiliness and ingenuity of infant
nature, invent some method of making away with himself. For he _was_ an
ugly baby as he stood revealed in the flare of the furnace door, thrown
open that his admirers and friends might feast their eyes upon him. His
short wisps of red hair stood straight up in front; his cheeks were
puffy and round, but very rosy; his eyes were small and dark, but
blandly roguish; his mouth was wide and damp, and had in it a small
selection of sample teeth, as it were; he wore a blue checked homespun
dress garnished down the back with big horn buttons, sparsely set on; he
clasped his chubby hands upon a somewhat pompous stomach; he sidled
first to the right, then to the left, in doubt as to which of the
various invitations he should accept.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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