The Flag Part 17

"Don't want it, eh?"

"Yes, I want it. I'll take it on your recommendation and that of my agents, Messrs. Morrissey and Campbell. If you'll name your price I'll pay you for it."

Grandpa Walker went back and sat down in his cus.h.i.+oned chair by the window. He laid his cap aside, picked up his pipe from the window-sill, lighted it, and began to smoke.

"Well," he said, at last, "that's a prime tree. That tree's wuth money."

"Undoubtedly, sir; undoubtedly; but how much money?"

The old man puffed for a moment in silence. Then he asked:

"Want it fer a liberty-pole, do ye?"

"I want it for a liberty-pole."

"To put the school flag on?"

"To put the school flag on."

There was another moment of silence.

"They say," remarked the old man, inquiringly, "that you gave the flag?"

"I gave the flag."

"Then, by cracky! I'll give the pole."

Enos Walker rose vigorously to his feet in order properly to emphasize his offer. Colonel Butler did not respond. This sudden turn of affairs had almost taken away his breath. Then a grim smile stole slowly into his face. The humor of the situation began to appeal to him.

"Permit me to commend you," he said, "for your liberality and patriotism."

"I didn't fight in no Civil War," added the old man, emphatically; "but I ain't goin' to hev it said by n.o.body that Enos Walker ever profited a penny on a pole fer his country's flag."

The old soldier's smile broadened.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "That's very good. We'll stand together as joint donors of the emblem of freedom."

"And I ain't ashamed of it nuther," cried the new partner, "an' here's my hand on it."

The two men shook hands, and this time Colonel Richard Butler laughed outright.

"This is fine," he said. "I'll send men to-morrow to cut the tree down, trim it, and haul it to town. There's no time to lose. The roads are getting soft. Why, half of Baldwin's Hill is already bare."

He started toward the door, but his host called him back.

"Don't be in a hurry," said Grandpa Walker. "Set down a while, can't ye? Have a piece o' pie or suthin. Or a gla.s.s o' cider."

"Thank you! Nothing at all. I'm in some haste. It's getting late.

And--I desire to make a brief call on Henry Cobb before returning home."

The old man made no further effort to detain his visitor; but he gave him a cordial invitation to come again, shook hands with him at the door, and watched him half way down to the gate. When he turned and re-entered his house he found his two daughters already in the sitting-room.

"Did he come for Pen?" asked Sarah Butler, breathlessly.

"Ef he did," replied her father, "he didn't say so. He wanted my spruce tree, and I give it to him. And I want to tell ye one thing fu'ther. I've got a sort o' sneakin' notion that Colonel Richard Butler of Chestnut Hill ain't more'n about one-quarter's bad as he's be'n painted."

Henry Cobb's residence was scarcely a half mile beyond the home of Enos Walker. It was the most imposing farm-house in that neighborhood, splendidly situated on high ground, with a rare outlook to the south and east. Mr. Cobb himself was just emerging from the open door of a great barn that fronted the road as Colonel Butler drove up. He came out to the sleigh and greeted the occupant of it cordially. The two men were old friends.

"It's a magnificent view you have here," said the colonel; "magnificent!"

"Yes," was the reply, "we rather enjoy it. I've lived in this neighborhood all my life, and the longer I live here the better I like it."

"That's the proper spirit, sir, the proper spirit."

For a moment both men looked off across the snow-mantled valleys and the wooded slopes, to the summit of the hill-range far to the east, touched with the soft light of the sinking sun.

"You're quite a stranger in these parts," said Henry Cobb, breaking the silence.

"Yes," was the reply. "I don't often get up here. I came up to-day to make an arrangement with your neighbor, Mr. Walker, for the purchase of a very fine spruce tree on his property."

"So? Did you succeed in closing a bargain with him?"

"Yes. He has consented to let it go."

"You don't say so! I would hardly have believed it. Now, I don't want to be curious nor anything; but would you mind telling me what you had to pay for it?"

"Nothing. He gave it to us."

"He--what?"

"He gave it to us to be used as a flag-staff on the grounds of the public school at Chestnut Hill."

"You don't mean that he gave you that wonderful spruce that stands down in the corner of his swamp; the one Morrissey and Campbell were up looking at yesterday?"

"I believe that is the one."

"Why, colonel, that spruce was the apple of his eye. If I've heard him brag that tree up once, I've heard him brag it up fifty times. He never gave away anything in his life before. What's come over the old man, anyway?"

"Well, when he learned that I had donated the flag, he declared that he would donate the staff. I suppose he didn't want to be outdone in the matter of patriotism."

"Good for him!" exclaimed Henry Cobb. "He'll be a credit to his country yet;" and he laughed merrily. Then, sobering down, he added: "But, say; look here! can't you let me in on this thing too? I don't want to be outdone by either of you. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll cut the tree, and trim it, and haul it to town to-morrow, free gratis for nothing. What do you say?"

Then the colonel laughed in his turn, and he reached out his one hand and shook hands warmly with Henry Cobb.

"Splendid!" he cried. "This efflorescence of patriotism in the rural districts is enough to delight an old soldier's heart!"

"All right! I'll have the pole there by four o'clock to-morrow afternoon, and you can depend on it."