Part 15 (1/2)
”Great loss!” rejoined Bates.
The stranger, who was none other than the junior member of the firm of Follett, Fizzlet & Farindale, dry goods merchants, doing business in the city of New York, and who was out at Puddleford hunting up the firm of Whistle & Sharp, a couple of debtors, whose account had been in the rear for some time--the stranger, I say, became very anxious to hear the particulars of the man whose life was in jeopardy--and he exclaimed before he thought--”What is it, gentlemen?--who's hurt?”
”Why,” said Ike, his face all the while cast iron, and his eyes steadily fixed on his game; ”why, you see, old mother Gantlet was took with a violent mis'ry in her head--sent for Dr. Teazle--our village doctor here--the old 'oman said her head would bust--doctor said it wouldn't--the old 'oman said it would--the doctor said he'd tie it up--and he _did_ try to tie it up, stranger--and while he was busy, her head _did_ bust, and blew off the doctor's thumb and fore-finger”--and Ike shoved a man into the king-row and crowned him, without a look at Mr. Farindale, his face all the while as rigid as a tombstone.
Mr. Farindale gave a long whistle, and immediately called for a cigar; the Colonel dropped a quid of tobacco into his hand, and gave it a toss across the bar-room; Longbow shot forth a dignified spit into the fire, or rather it seemed to shoot out itself, without moving a muscle, and Bates stroked his chin several times with his left hand.
A long pause ensued. ”What became of the woman?” inquired Farindale, after five minutes, looking sharply at Ike.
”She hain't been heer'd on since, as I knows on,” replied Ike; ”but the _doctor's_ in a dref-ul state.”
The game of checkers closed, and Ike and Bates moved around near Mr.
Farindale.
”Stranger,” said Ike, ”travelled long in these ere parts?”
”Not long--but long enough.”
”Goin' on?”
”On where?”
”Why, on to the next place?”
”Does Whistle & Sharp live hereabouts?” inquired Farindale, without answering Ike's question.
”To be sure they do,” said Ike; ”I know 'em like a book; am their 'torney.”
”Their attorney--_you_ their attorney--attorney of Whistle & Sharp,” said the stranger, slowly and musingly, scratching his head with his fore-finger.
”Got anything for 'em or agin 'em?” inquired Ike.
”Are they good pay?” inquired the stranger.
”Always pays at the end of an execution,” replied Ike--”never before--allers takes a receipt on the docket--makes their settlements a matter of record--puts things where they can't be ripp'd up--best way, ain't it, stranger?”
The stranger grunted, ”Humph!”
”And then,” said Ike, ”there's no dispute 'bout authority to collect.
Everybody can't tell who everybody's agent is. One New York clark run'd away one year with all the collections from Puddleford in his breeches-pocket; but the court _has_ authority--gin'ral jurisdiction--and the discharge of a court is a discharge what _is_ a discharge.”
”That's a real opinion,” exclaimed Longbow, who had not spoken for half an hour; ”there's nothin' like a _court_ to put a finish onter things;” and the Squire gave two or three heavy coughs, and blew his nose into his red cotton handkerchief, and doubling it up into a wad, looked around very gravely at Farindale as he dropped it back into his hat.
”Authority! The authority of courts to collect debts! They may have authority, but I never saw a court that had the _power_ to collect a debt of me,” exclaimed the Colonel, s.h.i.+fting his tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other as he spoke; ”and I never put in a plea in my life--the plea always puts _itself_ in, and is a dead bar to further proceedings every time--'no a.s.sets'--'nothing whereon to levy'”--
”_Nully Bony! Nully Bony!_ you mean,” said the Squire, horror-stricken at the Colonel's use of law language.
”That's it,” said Bates; ”hain't got nothin' to get onter”--