Part 4 (1/2)

”Well, I ought to have had it,” said Blount, with a frown of displeasure. ”The fact is, I did take a flying chance from horseback, when the b'ah ran by in the cane half a mile back of where they killed him. Somehow I must have missed. A little while later I heard another shot, and found that young gentleman there, Mr. Decherd, had beat me in the ride. But man! you ought to have heard that pack for two hours through the woods. It certainly would have raised your hair straight up. You ever hunt b'ah, sir?”

”A little, once in a while, when I have the time.”

”Well, you don't go away from here without having a good hunt. You just wait a day or so until my dogs get rested up.”

”Thank you, Colonel, but I am afraid I can't stay. You see, I am down here on a matter of business.”

”Business, eh?”--Well, a man that'll let business interfere with a b'ah hunt has got something wrong about him.”

”Well, you see, a railroad man can't always choose,” said his guest.

”Railroad man?” said Colonel Blount. A sudden gloom fell on his ruddy face. ”Railroad man, eh? Well, I wish you was something else. Now, I helped get that railroad through this country--if it hadn't been for me, they never could have laid a mile of track through here. But now, do you know what they done did to me the other day, with their d.a.m.ned old railroad?”

”No, sir, I haven't heard.”

”Well, I'll tell you--Bill! Oh, _Bill!_ Go into the house and get me some ice; and go pick some mint and bring it here to this gentleman and me--Say, do you know what that railroad did? Why, it just killed the best filly on my plantation, my best running stock, too. Now, I was the man to help get that railroad through the Delta, and I--”

”Well, now, Colonel Blount,” said the other, ”the road isn't a bad sort of thing for you-all down here, after all. It relieves you of the river market and it gives you a double chance to get out your cotton. You don't have to haul your cotton twelve miles back to the boat any more. Here is your station right at your door, and you can load on the cars any day you want to.”

”Oh, that's all right, that's all right. But this killing of my stock?”

”Well, that's so,” said the other, facing the point and ruminatingly biting a splinter between his teeth. ”It does look as if we had killed about everything loose in the whole Delta during the last month or so.”

”Are you on this railroad?” asked Blount, suddenly.

”I reckon I'll have to admit that I am,” said the other, smiling.

”Pa.s.senger agent, or something of that sort, I reckon? Well, let me tell you, you change your road. Say, there was a man down below here last week settling up claims--Bill! Ah-h, _Bill!_ Where you gone?”

”Yes,” said Eddring, ”it certainly did seem that when we built this road every cow and every n.i.g.g.e.r, not to mention a lot of white folks, made a bee-line straight for our right-of-way. Why, sir, it was a solid line of cows and n.i.g.g.e.rs from Memphis to New Orleans. How could you blame an engineer if he run into something once in a while? He couldn't _help_ it.”

”Yes. Now, do you know what this claim settler, this claim agent man did? Why, he paid a man down below here two stations--what do you _think_ he paid him for as fine a heifer as ever eat cane? Why, fifteen dollars!”

”Fifteen dollars!”

”Yes, fifteen dollars.”

”That looks like a heap of money for a heifer, doesn't it, Colonel Blount?”

”A heap of money? Why, no. Heap of _money_? Why, what you mean?”

”Heifers didn't bring that before the road came through. Why, you would have had to drive that heifer twenty-five miles before you could get a market, and then she wouldn't have brought over twelve dollars. Now, fifteen dollars, seems to me, is about right.”

”Well, let the heifer go. But there was a cow killed three miles below here the other day. Neighbors of mine. I reckon that claim agent wouldn't want to allow any more than fifteen dollars for Jim Bowles' cow, neither.”

”Maybe not.”

”Well, never mind about the cow, either; but look here. A n.i.g.g.e.r lost his wife down there, killed by these steam cars--looks like the n.i.g.g.e.rs get fascinated by them cars. But here's Bill coming at last.

Now, Mr. Eddring, we'll just make a little julep. Tell me, how do you make a julep, sir?”

Eddring hitched a little nearer on the board-pile. ”Well, Colonel Blount,” said he, ”in our family we used to have an old silver mug-- sort of plain mug, you know, few flowers around the edge of it--been in the family for years. Now, you take a mug like that, and let it lie in the ice-box all the time, and when you take it out, it's sort of got a white frost all over it. Now, my old daddy, he would take this mug and put some fine ice into it,--not too fine. Then he'd take a little cut loaf sugar, in another gla.s.s, and he'd mash it up in a little water--not too much water--then he'd pour that in over the ice. Then he would pour some good corn whisky in till all the interstices of that ice were filled plumb up; then he'd put some mint--”