Just once this haughty reserve had been a.s.sailed. It happened that same first morning when Old Dave Shepard, white of head and womanishly mild of voice, alike the circle"s patriarch and most timid member, had stepped forward and laid one unsteady hand upon his arm, some embarra.s.sed word of congratulation trembling on his lips. Old Jerry"s bearing upon that one occasion had precluded for all time the possibility of its recurrence. He had stepped back a pace, out of reach of those detaining fingers, and fastened the offender with a stare of such baleful resentment that the latter drew off in pitiful haste for self-effacement. And Jerry"s words on that one occasion were still current history.
"I warn you, Mister Shepard," he had shrilled, "that it"s a state"s prison offense to interfere with a Gov"mint official in the performance of his duty--and if you"ve got any complaints to make they"ll have to be set down reg"lar in writin", so"s I can give "em due consideration!"
Dating from that day Old Jerry"s daily appearance had taken on, at least in the eyes of the Tavern regulars, a ceremonious importance that demanded their personal attendance, and although it still lacked a few moments of the hour for which they were waiting, a roll-call would have found their number complete when the yellow-wheeled buckboard of Boltonwood"s most important citizen, with its strangely a.s.sorted pair of pa.s.sengers, flashed into view. Denny Bolton was totally oblivious to the stir which their appearance created, but if he was too engrossed with other things to be aware of the breathless hush which followed it, the huge, moon-faced man who occupied the seat of the buckboard with him was conscious of it all to a degree sufficient for both.
From the moment when he had himself answered the summons at the front door of his great, boxlike house on the hill, and found Young Denny standing there, Judge Maynard had sensed a sensation. With unerring judgment he read it in the very carriage of the big-shouldered boy before him, who for the first time in his life failed to uncover his head, with a due amount of reverence, in the presence of the town"s great man.
Perhaps with his mind set upon other things that morning Young Denny forgot it, perhaps there was an even deeper reason for his remissness, but the Judge, while he stood and listened to the boy"s tersely short explanation of his errand, was himself too taken up with other thoughts to note the omission. He was already formulating the rounded sentences with which he would introduce the subject that night to the circle in the Tavern office.
There was much of the dramatic in the whole situation--much that needed only proper staging and elaboration to make of it a tremendous triumph, a personal triumph, the extent of which he began to foresee with Denny"s opening words. And the greater became his consciousness of Denny Bolton"s strange new bearing, the clearer he saw all the possibilities of the situation.
To cap it all, the one big, irrefutable fact about which he could build his climax was there all ready before him, ripe for exploitation. It was with an actual effort of the will that the Judge held his brain sufficiently attentive to the boy"s words to grasp the reason for his early morning visit, in the face of the fascination which that great, ragged bruise across Denny"s chin had for him. Properly displayed, properly played up, the possibilities of that raw, unbandaged wound were incalculable, and the Judge started almost guiltily from his greedy scrutiny of it to a sudden realization that the boy before him had paused in his recital and was waiting in almost insulting self-possession for a reply.
Many men and some few women had rung boldly at the Judge"s front door or, more often, tapped timidly at the entrance in the rear of the house, all bent upon the same errand. For it was a country-wide secret that no one had ever been turned away from those doors with a refusal.
If any of those same visitors ever awakened to a realization that the terms of their bargain were far harder to bear than a refusal might have been, they nursed that knowledge in secret.
The Judge was a first mortgage financier, and he scanned each new addition to his already extensive collection with all the elaborate care which a matcher of precious stones might have exercised in the a.s.sembling of a fabulous priced string of pearls. It was his practice to scrutinize each transaction from every possible angle, in every degree of light and shade, but in his eagerness that morning he forgot to don for Denny the air of gracious understanding that was half paternal, half deprecating, which he always wore to set the others more at their ease. He even forgot to clear his throat judicially when he asked the boy before him if he had considered sufficiently the gravity of such a step as the placing in p.a.w.n of the roof that sheltered him and the ground that gave him food. It may have been because Young Denny, as he stood quietly waiting for his answer, came under neither cla.s.sification--he was neither pitifully timid nor more pitifully bold--that the Judge omitted the usual pompous formula, or merely that in his eager contemplation of the boy"s hurt face he forgot for once his perfectly rehea.r.s.ed part.
No preoccupation, however, marred the businesslike statement of his terms, but even while he named the amount which he was willing to risk upon Young Denny"s arid, rocky acres, and the rate of interest which he felt compelled to demand, his brain was racing far ahead of the matter in hand. It was the Judge himself who engineered the half hour"s delay which resulted in the fullest possible audience for their appearance that morning. While he had never attended it himself, except now and then by chance, he knew too well the infallibility of that little knot of regulars who watched Old Jerry"s daily departure to have any fears that the first of that day"s many thrills would go unseen or unsung. And he timed their arrival to a second.
Old Jerry was in the doorway, ready for his straight-backed descent of the worn steps, when Judge Maynard pulled his smooth gaited pair to a restive standstill before the office and gave the reins into Young Denny"s keeping. The throng of old men upon the sidewalk was at the point of opening ranks to allow him to pa.s.s through to his tattered buggy, which stood at the roadside, a bare half-length ahead of the Judge"s polished equipage. And now those same ranks broke in wild disorder and then closed tighter even than before, while they shifted and struggled for a better view.
They forgot the ceremonious solemnity of the moment and the little, birdlike figure upon the top step trying not to show too plainly upon his face a sense of his own importance--they forgot everything but the portend of the scene which the Judge was handling in so masterful a fashion.
The latter"s descent from his seat to the ground was deliberate, even for him; his silent nod to those wide-eyed, loose-jawed old men upon the sidewalk was the very quintessence of secretive dignity, and yet had he taken up his position there on the corner of the uneven boardwalk and cried aloud his sensation, like a bally-hoo advertising the excellence of his own particular side-show, he could not have equaled the results which the very profundity of his silence achieved.
There was a momentous promise in his gravity, a hint of catastrophe in the tilt of his head. Like two receding waves the tight ranks opened before him, clearing a path for his heavy-footed advance to the post-office doors--a lane of bulging eyes and clicking tongues such as Old Jerry in all his days had never provoked. And the latter stood there stock still in the middle of the entrance, too dazed at first to grasp the whole meaning of the situation, until he, too, was swept aside, without so much as a glance or a word, by one majestic sweep of the Judge"s hand.
Old Jerry"s sparrowlike, thinly, wistful face flamed red, and then faded a ghastly white, but no one seemed conscious at that moment of the ignominy of it all. It was hours later that they recalled it and realized that they had looked upon history in the making. No one noticed the old man"s faltering descent of the steps, or saw that he paused in his slow way to the buggy to turn back and stand looking about him in a kind of bewildered desperation. For the gaze of all had swung from the Judge"s broad, disappearing back to the face of the boy who was sitting in the buckboard, totally unconscious of that battery of eyes, smiling to himself.
He even chuckled aloud once--Young Denny did--a m.u.f.fled, reasonless sort of a chuckle, as if he did not even know they were there. It was almost as though he were playing straight into the Judge"s own plan, for the effect of the mirth upon the group on the walk was electrical.
It sent a shiver of antic.i.p.ation through it from end to end. And then, like the eyes of one man, their eyes swung back again from the ragged bruise across the boy"s chin to meet the Judge as he reappeared.
Yet not one of them so much as dared to whisper the question that was quivering upon the lips of all and burning hungrily in their faded eyes. Once more the wide lane opened magically for him--but again Judge Maynard"s measured progress was momentarily barred.
Curiosity may have prompted it, and then again it may have been that he was betrayed by the very fury of his desperate, eleventh hour effort to a.s.sert his right to the center of that stage--the right of long-established precedent--yet even those two long files of old men gasped aloud their dismay at his temerity when Old Jerry thrust his way forward and planted himself for a second time squarely in the great man"s path.
Half way from the office doors to the yellow-wheeled buckboard, in the very middle of the walk, he stood and stretched out a tentatively restraining hand, just as mild-voiced, white-haired Dave had done years before. And in his high, cracked falsetto, that was tremulously bitter for all that he struggled to lift it to a plane of easy jocularity, he exclaimed:
"Now see here, Jedge; what"s the meanin" of all this? You ain"t turned kidnapper, hev you?"
There came a heavy hush, while the Judge stood and stared down at the thin face trying to smile confidently up at him--a hush that endured while Judge Maynard swept him from head to foot with one shriveling glare and then walked around him without a word--walked around him just as he might have walked around the hitching post at the roadside, or any other object that chanced to bar his way! And this time Old Jerry"s face twitched and went whiter even than before.
n.o.body laughed, not even after the yellow-wheeled buckboard with its strangely a.s.sorted pair of pa.s.sengers had sped from sight toward the county seat and a legal adjustment of still another mortgage on the Bolton acres. Not a word was spoken until Old Jerry, too, had clambered silently into his own creaking buggy and crawled slowly off up the hill, with a squealing accompaniment of ungreased axles.
And even then, in the argument which began with a swirl of conjecture and ended, hours later, in a torrent of bitter personalities farthest of all from the first question under consideration, they avoided a mention of that regrettable incident just as for some time after its occurrence they avoided each other"s eyes, as if they felt somehow that theirs was, after all, the real guilt.
Upon one point alone did they agree; they were unanimous that if Young Denny Bolton"s bearing that morning--the angle at which he held his chin, and the huge cut that adorned it, and his causeless mirth--was not entirely d.a.m.ning, it was at least suspicious enough to require more than a little explanation. But that verdict, too, was none other than the very one which the Judge had already planned for them.
CHAPTER IX
Old Jerry drove his route that morning in a numbed, trancelike fashion; or, rather, he sat there upon the worn-out leather seat with the reins looped over the dash, staring straight ahead of him, and allowed the fat old mare to take her own pace. It was she who made the customary stops; he merely dug absent-mindedly beneath the seat whenever she fell to cropping gra.s.s at the roadside, and searched mechanically for the proper packet of mail. And twice he was called back to correct mistakes which he admitted were his own with an humbleness that was alarming to the complainant. In all the days of his service he had never before failed to plead extenuating circ.u.mstances for any slip that might occur--and to plead with much heat and staccato eloquence. But then, too, in all those years no day had ever equalled the bitter awakening of that morning.
As he reviewed it all, again and again, Old Jerry began to understand that it was not the public rebuff which had hurt so much; for there was that one of the night previous, when the Judge had cut him off in the middle of his eager corroboration of Jed The Red"s history, which had not left a trace of a sting twelve hours later. It was more than wounded vanity, although hurt pride was still struggling for a place in his emotions against a shamed, overwhelming realization of his own trifling importance, which could not hold its own against the first interloper, even after years of entrenchment. Judge Maynard"s first thrill had been staged without a hitch; he had paved the way for the personal triumph which he meant to achieve that night, but he had accomplished it only at a cost--the loyalty of him who had been, after all, his stanchest supporter.
From that moment Old Jerry"s defection from the ranks must be dated, for it was in those bitter hours which followed the yellow-wheeled buckboard"s early morning flight down the main street that the old man woke to the fact that his admiration for the Judge was made of anything but immortal stuff. He weighed the Judge in the balance that morning, and half forgot his own woe in marveling at the discrepancies which he discovered.
Self-deceit may or may not be easy of accomplishment. Maybe it is merely a matter of temperament and circ.u.mstance, after all. But it is a certainty that the first peep at one"s own soul is always the most startling--the most illuminating, always hardest of all to bear. And once stripped of that one garment of grandeur, which he had conjured out of his own great hunger for attention, Old Jerry found a ruthless, half-savage joy in tearing aside veil after veil, until he found himself gazing straight back into the eyes of his own spirit--until he saw the pitiful old fraud he really was, naked there before him.
Just as well as though he had been a party to it he understood the Judge"s crafty exhibition of Young Denny"s maimed face that morning; he knew without a trace of doubt just what the Judge, in his ominous silence, had meant to insinuate, and what the verdict would be that night around the Tavern stove. What he could not understand quite was why all of them were so easy to convince--so ready to believe--when only the night before they had sat and heard the Judge"s recital of Jed The Red"s intimate history for the benefit of the newspaper man from the metropolis which, to name it charitably, had been anything but a literal translation of facts.
Groping back for one single peg upon which to hang the fabric of their oft-reiterated prophesy was alarmingly profitless. There had been nothing, not even one little slip, since Old Denny Bolton"s pa.s.sing on that bad night, years before. And from that realization he fell to pondering with less leadenness of spirit upon what the real facts could be which lay behind Young Denny"s sudden transformation. For that also was too real--too evident--for any eyes to overlook.
It was not until long after the hour which witnessed the return flight of the yellow-wheeled buckboard through the village street, leaving behind an even busier hum of conjecture than before, that he awoke to a realization that his opportunity for a solution of the riddle was at least better than that of the wrangling group that had turned traitor before the post-office steps.
Long before he reached the top of the grade that ran up to the bleak house alone on the crest, he was leaning out of his seat, trying to penetrate the double gloom of rain and twilight; but not until he had reined in his horse was he positive that there was no shadowy figure standing there waiting for his arrival.
He could not quite understand the sensation which the boy"s absence waked in him at that instant. Days afterward he knew it had been lonesomeness--a rather bewildering loneliness--for no matter what his reception chanced to be along the way, Young Denny"s greeting had been infallibly regular.
And another emotion far less difficult to understand began to stir within him as he sat motionless for a time scanning the shapeless bulk of the place, entirely dark save for a single light in the rear room.
For the first time he saw how utterly apart from the rest of the town those unpainted old farm buildings were--how utterly isolated. The twinkling lights of the village were mere pin-points in the distance.
Each thick shadow beneath the eaves of the house was blacker than he had ever noticed before. Even the soft swish of the rain as it seeped from the sodden shingles, even the very familiar complaint of loose nails lifted by the wind under the clapboards, set his heart pumping faster. All in an instant his sensation-hungry old brain seized upon each detail that was as old as he himself and manufactured, right there on the spot, a sinister something--a something of unaccountable dread, which sent a delightful shiver up and down his thin, bony, old back.
For a while he waited and debated with himself, not at all certain now that he was as keen for a solution of the riddle of that cut which had adorned Young Denny"s chin as he had been. And yet, even while he hesitated, feeding his imagination upon the choicest of premonitory t.i.t-bits, he knew he meant to go ahead. He was magnifying the unfathomed peril that existed in his erratic, hair-trigger old brain alone merely for the sake of the complacent pride which resulted therefrom--pride in the contemplation of his own intrepid dare-deviltry.
He could scarcely have put into words just what reception he had imagined was awaiting him; but, whatever it might have been, Young Denny"s greeting was full as startling. A worn, dusty, shapeless leather bag stood agape upon the table before the window, and Denny Bolton paused over the half-folded garment in his hands to wheel sharply toward the newcomer as the door creaked open.
For one uncomfortable moment the old adventurer waited in vain for any light of welcome, or even recognition, to flash up in the boy"s steady scrutiny. Then the vaguest of smiles began to twitch at the corners of Denny"s lips. He laid the coat back upon the table and stepped forward a pace.
"h.e.l.lo!--Here at last, are you?" he saluted. "Aren"t you pretty late tonight?"
Old Jerry swallowed hard at the cheery ease of the words, but his fluttery heart began to pump even faster than when he had sat outside in the buggy debating the advisability of his further advance. That warning premonition had not been a footless thing, after all, for this self-certain, vaguely amused person who stood steadily contemplating him was not the Denny Bolton he had known twenty-four hours before--not from any angle or viewpoint.
Behind the simulated cheer of his greeting there was something else which Old Jerry found disturbingly new and hard to place. In his perplexity the wordless accusation that morning had been correct at that. And Young Denny was smiling widely at him now--smiling openly.
The old man shuffled his feet and shifted his gaze from the open wound upon the boy"s face as though he feared his suspicion might be read in his eyes. Then he answered Denny"s question.
"I--I cal"late I be late--maybe a little," he admitted.
Denny nodded briskly.
"More than a little," he corrected. "I expected you to be along even earlier today! An hour or two, at least."
Even while he was speaking Young Denny turned back to the packing of the big bag on the table. Old Jerry stood there, still shifting from one foot to the other, considering in growing wonder that silent preparation, and waiting patiently for a further explanation of what it meant. At last, when he could no longer endure the suspense, he broke that silence himself.
"Packin" up for a little trip, be you?" he ventured mildly.