Part 2 (1/2)
”Carats, she didn't; and that's what's the matter--and that's why I don't want to eat any peaches, Carats. Carats, I wish she had--I do, I do, so help me. Let's not eat 'em--let's take 'em back--Carrie, sister Carrie, let's take 'em back.”
Carrie thoughtfully and tenderly gazes in his face.
”Let's take 'em to old Forty-nine, Johnny. There ain't nothing he can eat, you know; an' then he's been a-shakin' since melon-time,--an'
Johnny, I don't think we are very good to him, anyhow.”
Stumps, scratching his bleeding s.h.i.+n with his foot, exclaims:
”I've barked my s.h.i.+n, and I've tore'd my pants, an' I don't care! But I won't take him a peach that I've stoled. Why, what would he think, Carats? He'd die dead, he would, if he thought I'd stoled them peaches from the poor old sick Injun woman; yes he would, Carats.”
”Johnny, I'll tell him we found 'em,” as Stumps looks doubtingly at her, ”tell him we found 'em in a tree, Stumps. Yes tell him we found 'em away up in the top of a cedar tree.”
”But I don't want to tell no lie, nor do nothin' bad no more, and I want to go home, I do.”
”Well, Stumps--Johnny, brother Johnny, what will we do with them? We can't stand here all day. I want to go home, too. Oh, this hateful, hateful peach! I want to go right off!” and the girl, hiding her face in her hands, begins to weep.
”Oh, sister Carrie--sister, don't, don't; sister, don't, don't!”
”Then let's eat 'em.”
”I don't like peaches.”
”I don't like peaches either!” cries Carrie, throwing back her hair, wiping her eyes, and trying to be bright and cheerful. ”I never could eat peaches. I like pine-nuts, and cowc.u.mbers, and tomatuses, and--pine-nuts. Oh, I'm very fond of pine-nuts. I like pine-nuts roasted, and tomatuses, an' I like chestnuts raw, an' tomatuses. Don't you like pine-nuts and tomatuses, Johnny, and cowc.u.mbers.”
”I don't like nothin' any more.”
”Then, Johnny, take 'em back.”
”I--I--I take 'em back by myself? I take 'em back, an' hear old Bose growl, and look into her holler eyes?” Here the boy shudders, and looking around timidly, he creeps closer to his sister and says, as he again gazes back in the direction of the Indian woman's cabin: ”I'd be afraid she might be dead, Carats, an' there'd be n.o.body to hold the dog. Oh, I see her holler eyes looking at me all the time. If she'd only let the dog come. Confound her! If she'd only let the dog come!”
”Oh, Johnny, Johnny--brother Johnny, come, lets go home! Shoo! There's somebody coming. It's John Logan, coming home from his work.”
As the girl speaks, John Logan, the sick woman's son, a strong handsome man, only brown as if browned by the sun, with a pick on his shoulder and a gold-pan slanting under his arm, comes whistling along the trail.
Seeing the children, he stops and says:
”Why, children, good evening! What are you running away for? Come, come now, don't be so shy, my little neighbors, and don't give the trail all to me because I happen to be a man, and the strongest. Come, Johnny, give me your hand. There! an honest, chubby little fist it is. Why, what have you got in your other hand? Been gathering nuts, hey? You little squirrel! Give me a nut, won't you.”
Carrie approaches, dives her hand into her ragged pocket and reaches the man a heaped handful of nuts.
”There, if you'll have nuts I'll bring you nuts; I'll bring you lots of nuts, I will; I'll bring you a bushel of nuts, an'--some tomatuses.”
”Oh, you are too kind. But now I must hasten home to mother. Come, shake hands again, and say good-bye.” The girl gives her left hand. ”No your right hand.”
Carrie is bothered, and slips the peach in her left hand behind, and, with a lifted face, full of glow and enthusiasm, says:
”I'll bring you a whole bag full of nuts, I will,” and she reaches him her hand eagerly.
”Oh Carrie, I have a nice little surprise for you, and if you won't tell I'll let you into the secret. You won't tell?”