The Cave by the Beech Fork Part 6

"And the little duces went cry-cry-cry," said Robin, evidently trying to describe his encounter on the previous day with the flock of geese and goslings, in which encounter the little belligerent was evidently worsted, for one of the oldest warriors in the enemy's camp overthrew him with a single blow of his wing, and would no doubt have inflicted serious wounds had not Bertha come to the rescue.

"And what did Robin say?" asked Bertha.

"He cry, too," came the unwilling answer, whereat all laughed except the little soldier who had been vanquished in so inglorious a battle.

"Where is Owen?" asked Father Byrne, seeing that he had not returned to the dining-room.

"Probably he is not feeling well," said his father. "He and Martin Cooper were hunting wild turkeys all day yesterday. Toward evening Bounce trailed a large deer, bringing it near Rapier's Ford, where the two boys waited until they were overtaken by the night, and forced to sleep in the woods."

"Then I am not surprised that he is unwell," replied the priest.

"Perhaps he will not be able to ride around to the different houses and let the people know that I am here."

"Then we'll give the work to Robin," said the farmer, with a laugh.

Robin, however, did not respond to the invitation. He did not seem to know that his name had been mentioned, but sat there in deep thought, planning the second and more successful campaign against the "duces."

"Well, Father," said Owen, riding up to the door just at this moment, "I had better be on the way, if I want to visit all the families before night, to let them know that you are here."

"They tell me that you are unwell," was the kind reply.

"Nothing the matter with me! Only a little stiff from sleeping out in the woods last night!"

"Of course, you'll never own up that you are sick," said his mother.

"Why should I own up, when I am not sick," said Owen; "besides, the ride will only do me good."

"If you do not feel strong enough to visit all the houses," said Father Byrne, rising from the table and walking out upon the porch, "return home, and let some of the other boys go in your place."

"Ow'n, dim me ride?" said Robin.

"Won't you come and finish your dinner before starting?" asked his mother.

Owen did not hear either appeal, however, but galloped away, only too anxious to escape from the company and the many questions about his night's experience.

Toward evening many of the Catholics came to the house for confession.

Master and slave, old and young departed with the priest's blessing of peace, each holier and happier than when he came.

With patient care Father Byrne taught the older negroes their catechism; they, in turn, were told to teach their children. This was also a duty which he imposed upon the masters of slaves. To encourage the young blacks Father Byrne gave little pictures to those who had learned their prayers the best. It was on such occasions that Aunt Margaret endeavored to show the mental prowess of Wash.

"De Lawd bless dis n.i.g.g.e.r," she said one day, "if dat Gawge Wasenton Elexander Hamilton Howard ain't got his skull as brim full of brains as ole ma.s.sar's corn-crib is full ob corn."

"How long did it take him to learn 'Our Father,'" inquired the priest, much amused at the old negress' talk.

"Dat our foddar," continued Aunt Margaret. "Why, bless my soul! I gave him the first susposis.h.i.+n (explanation) of dat dar prayer last Christmas, and dat little n.i.g.g.e.r he knowed it in less dan t'ree shakes of a sheep's tail."

"How many days?"

"No days, nuffin'. Bless him little soul, if de chile didn't larn dat our foddar in six mon's after I gave him the first susposishuns."

"Call him," said the priest, "and let us see whether he has learned his lesson well."

Was.h.i.+ngton came, and, standing before the priest with his hat on his head, began to recite the prayer.

"What I tole you do?" exclaimed his preceptress.

Off came the hat.

"Git on you' knees, you little her'tic!" again cried out Aunt Margaret.

Was.h.i.+ngton obeyed orders, and recited the prayer. He was rewarded by a picture, made thrice acceptable by its bold shades of red.

The Sunday following Father Byrne's arrival was bright and genial. The red-bird chirped among the crimson foliage of the maple; the blue-bird twittered and frolicked on the swaying branches of the plum-tree; round and round flew the barn-martins, as if they divined the coming winter, and wished to enjoy the few remaining days of autumn before departing for their more Southern homes; the swallows, too, with their speed-trimmed wings, darted swiftly through the heavens, glided noiselessly in among the trees, or sailed away again to the blue void beyond. A steady breeze sprang up, making the corn-stalks rustle in the fields, and sending the frost-nipped leaves of the forest whirling to the ground. Then, as the sun rose over the hilltops, the river lifted its white canopy of fog, slowly extended it over the valley, and dispersed it in fleecy clouds.

Along the several roads and footpaths which verged toward Mr. Howard's could be seen the members of Father Byrne's scattered flock hastening on to enjoy the rare privilege of a.s.sisting at Holy Ma.s.s.

"Good morning, Hez," said the host to Farmer Cooper, who was the first to arrive.

"Good morning, Zach."

"Fine morning."

"Very fine morning, indeed."

"How are you feeling?"

"Tol'ably well."

"How is Mrs. Cooper?"

"She's tol'ably well."

"And all the family?"

"They are all tol'ably well, thank you. And how are you this morning, Zach?"

"I am tol'ably well, thank you."

"And Mrs. Howard?"

"She is tol'ably well, too."

"And the rest of the family?"

"All tol'ably well, tol'ably well."

"How are you getting along with the fall wheat?"

"I reckon we'll be a little late this year," replied Mr. Howard. "It's the first time we've used the field for wheat, and have tried to get out as many stumps as possible. And how is your wheat getting along?"