Getting higher, getting higher, changing pitch as it came close and closer- I don"t know when I began picking the tune on my guitar, but I was playing as I stood there next to Donie Carawan. She couldn"t flee. She was rooted there, or frozen there, and the train was going to come in sight in just a second.
The mouth-harp man credited us, him and me, with bringing it, by that pitch-changing. And, whatever anybody deserved, wasn"t for me to bring their deservings on them. I thought things like that. Also: Christian Doppler was the name of the fellow who"d thought out the why and wherefore of how pitch makes the sound closeness. Like what the mouth-harp man said, his name showed it wasn"t witch stuff.
An honest man could try . . .
I slid my fingers back up the guitar-neck, little by little, as I picked the music, and the pitch sneaked down.
"Here it comes, John," whimpered Donie Carawan, standing solid as a stump.
"No," I said. "It"s going-listen!"
I played so soft you could pick up the train-noise with your ear. And the pitch was dropping, like with my guitar, and the whistle soundedwooooeeeee! Lower it sounded.
"The light-dimmer-" she said. "Oh, if I could have the chance to live different-"
She moaned and swayed.
Words came for me to sing as I picked.
Oh, see her standing helpless, Oh, hear her shedding tears.
She"s counting these last moments As once she counted years.
She"d turn from proud and wicked ways She"d Leave her sin, O Lord!
If the little black train would just back up And not take her aboard.
For she was weeping, all right. I heard her breath catch and strangle and shake her body, the way you"d look for it to tear her ribs loose from her backbone. I picked on, strummed on, lower and lower.
Just for once, I thought I could glimpse what might have come at us.
It was little, all right, and black under that funny cold-blue light it carried. And the cars weren"t any bigger than coffins, and some way the shape of coffins. Or maybe I just sort of imagined that, dreamed it up while I stood there. Anyway, the light grew dim, and thechukchukchukchuk went softer and lower, and you"d guess the train was backing off, out of hearing.
I stopped my hand on the silver strings. We stood there in a silence like what there must be in some lifeless, airless place like on the moon.
Then Donie Carawan gave out one big, broken sob, and I caught her with my free arm as she fell.
She was soft enough then. All the tight was gone from her. She lifted one weak, round, bare arm around my neck, and her tears wet my hickory shirt.
"You saved me, John," she kept saying. "You turned the curse away."
"Reckon I did," I said, though that sounded like bragging. I looked down at the rails, and they weren"t there, in the dog-trot or beyond. Just the dark of the valley. The cooking fires had burned out, and the lamps in the house were low.
Her arm tightened around my neck. "Come in," she said. "Come in, John. You and me, alone in there."
"It"s time for me to head off away," I said.
Her arm dropped from me. "What"s the matter? Don"t you like me?" she asked.
I didn"t even answer that one, she sounded so pitiful. "Miss Donie," I said, "you told a true thing. I turned the curse from you. It hadn"t died. You can"t kill it by laughing at it, or saying there aren"t such things, or pulling up rails. If it held off tonight, it might come back."
"Oh!" She half raised her arms to me again, then put them down.
"What must I do?" she begged me.
"Stop being a sinner."
Her blue eyes got round in her pale face.
"You want me to live," she said, hopeful.
"It"s better for you to live. You told me that folks owe you money, rent land from you and such. How"d they get along if you got carried off?"
She could see what I meant, maybe the first time in her life.
"You"d be gone," I minded her, "but the folks would stay behind, needing your help. Well, you"re still here, Miss Donie. Try to help the folks. There"s a thousand ways to do it. I don"t have to name them to you. And you act right, you won"t be so apt to hear that whistle at midnight."
I started out of the dog-trot.
"John!" My name sounded like a wail in her mouth. "Stay here tonight, John," she begged me. "Stay with me! I want you here, John, I need you here!"
"No, you don"t need me, Miss Donie," I said. "You"ve got a right much of thinking and planning to do.
Around about the up of sun, you"ll have done enough, maybe, to start living different from this on."
She started to cry. As I walked away I noticed how, further I got, lower her voice-pitch sounded.
I sort of stumbled on the trail. The mouth-harp man sat on a chopped-down old log.
"I listened, John," he said. "Think you done right?"
"Did the closest I could to right. Maybe the black train was bound to roll,on orders from whatever station it starts from; maybe it was you and me, raising the pitch the way we did, brought it here tonight."
"I left when I did, dreading that thought," he nodded.
"The same thought made me back it out again," I said. "Anyway, I kind of glimmer the idea you all can look for a new Donie Carawan hereabouts, from now forward."
He got up and turned to go up trail. "I never said who I was."
"No, sir," I agreed him. "And I never asked."
"I"m Cobb Richardson"s brother. Wyatt Richardson. Dying, my mother swore me to even things with Donie Carawan for what happened to Cobb. Doubt if she meant this sort of turn-out, but I reckon it would suit her fine."
We walked into the dark together.
"Come stay at my house tonight, John," he made the offer. "Ain"t much there, but you"re welcome to what there is."
"Thank you kindly," I said. "I"d be proud to stay."
Shiver in the Pines
Manly Wade Wellman
We sat along the edge of Mr. Hoje Cowand"s porch, up the high hills of the Rebel Creek country. Mr.
Hoje himself, and his neighbor Mr. Eddy Herron who was a widowman like Mr. Hoje, and Mr. Eddy"s son Clay who was a long tall fellow like his daddy, and Mr. Hoje"s pretty-cheeked daughter Sarah Ann, who was courting with Clay. And me. I"d stopped off to hand-help Mr. Hoje build him a new pole fence, and nothing would do him but I"d stay two-three days. Supper had been pork and fried apples and pone and snap beans. The sun made to set, and they all asked me to sing.
So I picked the silver strings on my guitar and began the old tuneful one:
Choose your partner as you go, Choose your partner as you go.
"Yippeehoo!" hollered old Mr. Eddy. "You sure enough can play that, John! Come on, choose partners and dance!"
Up hopped Clay and Sarah Ann, on the level-stamped front yard, and I played it up loud and sang, and Mr. Eddy called figures for them to step to: "Honor your partner! . . . Swing your partner! . . . Do-si-do! . . . Allemand right!" Till I got to one last chorus and I sang out loudly:
Fare thee well, my charming gal, Fare thee well, I"m gone!
Fare thee well, my charming gal, With golden slippers on!
"Kiss your partner and turn her loose!" whooped out Mr. Eddy as I stopped. Clay kissed Sarah Ann the way you"d think it was his whole business in life, and Sarah Ann, up on her little toes, kissed him back.
"Won"t be no better singing and dancing the day these young ones marry up," said Mr. Hoje. "And no fare thee wells then."
"And I purely wish I could buy you golden slippers, Sarah Ann," said Clay as the two sat down together again.
"Gold"s where you find it," quoted Mr. Eddy from the Book. "Clay, you might ransack round them old lost mines the Ancients dug, that n.o.body knows about. John, you remember the song about them?"
I remembered, for Mr. Eddy and Mr. Hoje talked a right much about the Ancients and their mines. I sang it:
Where were they, where were they, On that gone and vanished day When they shoveled for their treasure of gold?
In the pines, in the pines, Where the sun never shines, And I shiver when the wind blows cold . . ..
As I stopped, a throat rasped, loud. "Odd," said somebody, walking into the yard, "to hear that song just now."
We didn"t know the somebody. He was blocky-made, not young nor either old, with a store suit and a black hat, like a man running for district judge. His square face looked flat and white, like a face drawn on paper.
"Might I sit for a miinute?" he asked, mannerly. "I"ve come a long, long way."
"Take the door-log, and welcome," Mr. Hoje bade him. "My name"s Hoje Cowand, and this is my daughter Sarah Ann, and these are the Herrons, and this here"s John, who"s a-visiting me. Come a long way, you said? Where from, sir?"
"From going to and fro in the world," said the stranger, lifting the hat from his smoke-gray hair, "and from walking up and down in it."
Another quotation from, the Book; and if you"ve read Job"s first chapter, you know who"s supposed to have said it. The man saw how we gopped, for he smiled as he sat down and stuck out his dusty shoes.
"My name"s Reed Barnitt," he said. "Odd, to hear talk of the Ancients and their mines. For I"ve roved around after talk of them."
"Why," said Mr. Hoje, "folks say the Ancients came into these mountains before the settlers. Close to four hundred years back."
"That long, Mr. Hoje?" asked young Clay.
"Well, a tree was cut that growed in the mouth of an Ancients" mine, near Horse Stomp," Mr. Hoje allowed. "Schooled folks counted the rings in the wood, and there was full three hundred. It was before the Yankee war they done that, so the tree seeded itself in the mine-hole four hundred years back, or near about."
"The time of the Spaniards," nodded Reed Barnitt. "Maybe about when de Soto and his Spanish soldiers crossed these mountains."
"I"ve heard tell the Ancients was here around that time," put in Mr. Eddy, "but I"ve likewise heard tell they wasn"t Spanish folks, nor either Indians."
"Did they get what they sought?" wondered Reed Barnitt.
"My daddy went into that Horse Stomp heading once," said Mr. Eddy. "He said it run back about seven hundred foot as he stepped it, and a deep shaft went down at the end. Well, he figured no mortal soul would dig so fae, saving he found what he was after." He had hold of Mr. Hoje"s jug, and now he pushed it toward Mr. Ramitt. "Have a drink?"
"Thank you kindly, I don"t use it. What did the Ancients want?"
"I"ve seen only one of their mines, over the ridge yonder," and Mr. Hoje nodded through the dusk.
"Where they call it Black Pine Hollow-"
"Where the sun never shines," put in Mr. Barnitt, "and I shiver when the wind blows cold." His smile at me was tight.
"I was there three-four times when I was a chap, but not lately, for folks allows there"s haunts there. I saw a right much quartz laying around, and I hear tell gold comes from quartz rock."
"Gold," nodded Reed Barnitt. He put his hand inside his coat.
"You folks are treating me clever," be said, "and I hope you let me make a gift. Miss Sarah Ann, I myself don"t have use for these, so if you"d accept-"