The Kenna record., October 03, 1913, Image 3

About The Kenna record. (Kenna, Roosevelt County, N.M.) 190?-1924

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THE RECORD, KENNA, NEW MEXICO.
PART ONE
CHAPTER I.
On the Labrador.
tHctated bp Mr. Jesse Smith.
Don't you write anything down yet,
'cause I ain't ready.
If I wrote this yarn myrtf, I'd make
It good and red from tip to tip, claws
out, teeth bare, fur crawling with emo-
tions. It wouldn't be dull, no, or evi
dence. But then it's to please you, and
that's what I'm for.
So I proceeds to stroke the fur
smooth, lay the paws down soft, fold
up the smile, and purr. A sort of
truthfulness steals over me. Gotn' to
be dull, too.
No, I dunno how to begin. If this
jam was a rope, I'd coll It down be
fore I began to pay out. You lays the
end, so, and flemish down, ring by ring
uni.ll the bight's colled, smooth, ready
to flake off as It runs. I delayed a
lynching once to do just that, and re
lieve the patient's mind. It all went
off so well!
When we kids were good, mother
she used to own we came of pedigree
rtock; but when we're bad, seems we
look after father. You see mother's
folk was the elect, sort of born saved.
They allowed there'd be room In
Heaven for one hundred and forty-four
thousand Just persons, mostly from
Nova Scotia, but when they took to
sorting the neighbors', they'd get ex
clustve. Anyway, mother's folk as a tribe, Is
millionaires In grace and pretty well
fixed In Nova Scotia. Then she's found
out, secretly married among the gr.ats.
Her name's scratched out of the fam
ily Bible, with a strong hint to the
Lord to scratch her entry from the
Book of Life. She's married a sailor
man, before the mast, a Liveyere from
the Labrador, a man without a dollar,
suspected of being Episcopalian.
In them days the Labrador ain't
laid out exactly to suit mother. She's
used to luxury coal In the lean-to,
tatles In the cellar, cows In the barn,
barter store round the corner, mails,
church, school, and a jail right handy,
so she can enjoy the ungodly getting
of their just deserts. But in our time
the Labrador was just God's country,
all rocks. Ice, and sea, to put the fear
Into proud hearts no need of 'esch
ars. It kills off the weaklings no
need of doctors. A school to raise
men no need of preachers. The law
wm "work or starve" no place for
lawyers. It's police, and court, and
hangman all complete, fire and hall.
snow and vapors, wind and storm ful
filling His word.
Father's home was an overturned
schooner, turfed in, and he was surely
proud of having a bigger place than
any other Liveyere on the coast There
was the hold overhead for stowing
winter fish, and room down-stairs for
the family, the team of seven husky
dogs, and even a cord or two of fire
wood. We kids used to play at New-
f'nlanders up In the hold, when the
winter storms were tearing the tops
. off the hills, and the Eskimo devil
howled blue shrieks outside. The hus
kies makes wolf songs all about the
fewness of fish, and we'd hear mother
give father a piece of her mind. That's
about the first I remember, but all
what mother thought about poor fa
ther took years and years to say.
I used to be kind of sorry for father,
You see he worked the bones thrcugh
his hide, furring all winter and fish'
lng summers, and what he earned he'd
get In truck from the company. All
Us Llveyeres owed to the Hudson Bay,
but father worked hardest and he
owed most, hundreds and hundreds of
skins. The company trueted him.
There wasn't a man on the coast
more trusted than he was, with moth
er to feed, and six kids, besides seven
Huskies, and father's aunt, Thessa-
lonlka, a widow with four children
and a tumor, living down to Last
Hope beyond the Rocks.
There was secret about father, and
if mother ever found out! You see,
he looked like a white man, curly
yaller hair same as me, and be was
fearful strong. But in his lnsid
don't ever tell! he was partly small
boy same's me, and the other half of
hlmdon't ever let on! was moun
talneer Injun. I seen bis three broth'
ers, the finest fellers you ever yes,
Scotch half-breeds and mother never
knew
Thar's me on father's knee, with
my nose in his buckskin shirt, and
even to this day the wood smoke In
A Man inWlie
camp brings back the wuff, whereas
summers his boots smelt fishy. What
happened first or afterwards 13 all
mixed up, but there's the smoke smell
and sister Maggie lyJng In the bunk,
all white and froze.
There's fish smell, and Polly who
used to wallop me with a slipper,
lying white and froze. And yot I
knew she couldn't get froze in sum
mer. Then there's smoke smell, and big
Tommy, bigger nor father, throwing
up blood. I said he'd catch It from
mother for messing the floor, but
father Just hugged me, telling me to
shut up. I axed him if Tommy was
going to get froze, too. Then father
told me that Tommy was going away
to where the milk came out of a cow.
You Juet shove the can opener into
the cow so and the milk pours out.
whole candy pails of milk. And there's
vegl tables, which is green things to
eat. First time you swell up and
pretty nigh bust; but you soon get
used to greens. Tommy Is going to
Civili Zation. It's months and months
off, and when you get there, the
people Is so awful mean they'd let a
stranger etarve to death without so
much as "Come In." The men wear
pants right down to their heels, and
as to the women
Mother comes In and looks at father,
so he forgets to say about the women
at Civili Zation, but other times he'd
tell, oh, lots of stories. He suid It
was worse for the likes of us than
New Jerusalem.
I reckon Tommy died, and Joan, too,
and mother would get gaunt and dry,
rocking herself. " 'The Lord gave,' "
she'd say, " 'and the Lord hath taken
away; blessed be the name 'of the
Lord. "
There was only Pete and me left,
and father wagging his pipe acrost the
stove at mother. "They'll die, ma'am,"
I heard him say, and she just sniffed.
"If I hadn't taken 'em out doors they'd
be dead now, ma'am."
She called him an injun. She called
him I dunno what she didi.'t call him.
I'd been asleep, and when I woke up
she was cooking breakfast while she
called him a lot more things ehe must
have forgot to say. But he carried
me In his arms out through the little
low door, and it was stabbing cold
with a blaze of northern lights.
He tucked me up warm on the ko
matlk, he hitched up the huBkles, and
mushed, way up the tickle, and
through the soft bush snow, and at
sunup we made his winter tilt on Torn
gak Creek. We put in the winter
tbere, furring, and every time he
came home from the round of traps,
he'd sell me all the pelts. I was sure
ly proud when he took me hunting fur
and partridges. I was with him to
the -fishing, In the fall we'd bunt, all
winter we'd- trap till it was tlmo for
the sealing, and only two or three
times in a year we'd be back to
mother.
Then I'd see Pete, too, who'd got
pink, with a spitting cough. He want
ed to play with me, but I wouldn't. I
Just couldn't I hated to be anywheres
near him.
"Didn't I tell yez?" father would
point at Pete coughing. "Didn't I
warn yez?"
But mother set her mouth In a thin
line.
"Pete," said she, "is saved."
Next time we come mother was all
alone.
" 'The Lord gave,' " she says " 'and
the Lord hath taken away; blessed
be the name of the Lord,' but lt'e get
ting kind of monotonous."
She hadn't much to say then, she
didn't seem to care, but was just
numb. He wrapped her up warm on
the komatlk, with Just a sack of
clothes, her Bible, and the album of
photos from Nova Scotia, yes, and the
china dogs she carried in her arms.
Father broke the trail ahead, I took
the gee pole, and when day cams, we
made the winter tilt. There mother
kep' bouse just as she would at heme,
so clean we was almost scared to step
Indoors.
It was along In March or maybe
April that father was away in coarse
weather, making the round of bis
traps. He didn't come back. There'd
been a blizzard, a wolf-bowling hurri
cane, blowing out a lane of bare
ground round the back of the cabin,
while the big drift piled higher and
packed harder, until the comb of It
grew , out above our roof like a sea
breaker, froze so you could walk on
the overhang. And Just between dark
and duckish father's husky team-came
back without him.
Op
en J
iir PiWi gwtw1 P2b
1 don't reckon I was more'n ten or
eleven years old, but you see, this
Labrador is kind of serious with us,
and makes even kids act respon
sible. .Go asy, -and there's famine,
freezing, blackleg, all sorts of rea
so; against laziness. It sort of edu
cates. Mother was worse than silent. There
was something about her that scared
me more than anything outdoors. In
the morning her eye kep' following me
as If to say, "Go find your father."
Surely it was up to me, and if I
wasn't big enough to drive the huskies
or pack father's gun, I thought I oould
manage afoot to tote his four-pound
ax. She beckoned me to her and
kissed me JuBt once in ten years, and
I was quick through the door, out of
reach, lest she should see me mighty
near cryln'.
It was all very well showing off
brave before mother, but when I got
outside, any excuse would have been
enough for going back. I wished I'd
left the matches behind, but I hadn't.
I wishe'd the snow would be too soft,
but it was hard as sand. I wished I
wasn't a coward, and the bush didn't
look so wolfy, and what If I met up
with the Eskimo devil! Oh, 1 was
surely the scaredest 111' boy, and dead
certain I'd get lost. Then I went on
because I was going, and there was fa
ther's trail blazed on past Bake-apple
Marsh. The way was as plain as
streets, and the sun shining warm as
he looked over into the valley.
Then I saw a man's mitt, an old
buckskin mitt sticking up out of the
snow. Father had dropped his mitt,
and without that his hand would be
froze. When I found him, how glad
he'd -be to get it !
But when I tried to pick it up, it
was heavy. Then it came away, and
there was father's hand sticking up.
It was dead.
Of course I know I'd ought to have
dug down through the snow, but I
didn't. I ran for all I was worth.
Then I got out of breath and come
back shamed.
It wasn't for love of father. No. I
hated to touch that hand, and when I
did I was sick. Still that was better
than being soared to touch. It's not
so bad when you dare.
I dug, with a snow-ehoe for a shovel.
There was the buckskin shirt smelling
good, and the long fringes I'd used
to tickle his nose with then I found
his face. I Just couldn't bear that, but
turned my back and dug until I cme
to the great, big, number-four trap he
used for wolf and beaver. He must
There Was
Father's
Up.
Hand Sticking
have stepped without seeing it under
the snow, and it broke his leg. Then
he'd tried to drag himself back home.
It was when I stood up to get
breath and cool off that I first seen the
wolf, setting peaceful, waggin' his tail.
First I thought he was one of our
own huskies, but when he didn't know
his name I saw for sure he must be
the wolf who lived up Two Mile Crick.
He'd got poor inspecting father's bus!
ness instead of minding bis own.
That's why he was called the Inspec
tor. It was March, too, the moon of
famine. Of course I threw my ax
and missed. His hungry smile's still
thar behind a bush, and me wonders
lng whether his business is with me
or father. That's why I stepped on
the snow-shoes, and went right past
where he was, not daring to get my
ax. Yee, it was me he wanted to see
first, but of Course I wasn't going to
encourage any animal Into thinking
he'd scared a man. Why, he'd scarce
have let father even see his tracks for
fear they'd be trapped or shot 80 I
walked slow and proud, leadin' him
off from father at least I played that.
wishing all the time that mother's 111'
boy was to home. After a while I
grabbed down a lopped stick where
father'd blazed, not as fierce as an
ax, but enough to make me more or
less respected.
The Inspector was bigger than me.
stronger 'n any man, swifter 'n any
horse. I tell yor the maned white wolf
1b wlser'n most people, and but for
eating his cubs, he's nature's gentle
man.
The trouble was not him hunting,
but me scared. Why, If he'd wanted
mc, one flash, one bite, and I'm break
fast. It was just curiosity made him
so close behind like a stealthy ghost.
When I'd turn to show fight, he'd seem
to apologize, and then I'd go on whis
tling a hymn.
Thar he was cached right ahead in
the deadfall, for a front view, if I'd
known. But I thrashed with my stick
in a panic, hitting his snout, so he
yelped. Then he lost his temper. He'd
a sorry, but-business-iB-businesa ex
pression on him. I ran at him, tripped
on a stump, let out a yell, and he lep'
straight at my throat.
And in the middle of that came a
gunshot, a bullet grazed my arm, and
went on whining. Another shot, and
the Inspector ran. Then I was rub
bing whar the bullet hurt, sort of
sulky, too, with a grievance, when I
was suddenly grabbed and nigh smoth
ered in mother's arms. She'd come
with the team of huskies followin' me
ehe'd been gunning, too, and I sure
had a mighty close call.
She'd no tears left for father, so
when I got through Bobbin' we went
to the body, and loaded it In the kO'
matik for home. Thar's things I don't
like to tell you.
It wasn't a nice trip exactly, with
the Inspector superintending around.
When we got back to the tilt, we
daresn't take out the huskies, or un
load, or even stop for grub. We had
to drive straight on, mother and me,
down the tickle, past our old empty
home, then up the Bacalleu all night
The sun was just clear of tho ice
when we made the Poet, and we saw
a little ball jerk up the flag halyards
then break to a great red flag with
the letters H. B. C. It means Here
Before Christ.
The air was full of a big noise, like
the skirl of sea-gulls screaming In a
gale, and there was Mr. McTavlsh on
the sidewalk, marching with his bag
pipes to wake the folk out of their
Sunday beds. Then he saw father's
body, with legs and arms stiffened all
ways, and the number-four trap still
gripped on broken bones. Off came
his fur cap.
Mother stood, iron-hard, beside the
komatik.
"Factor," says she, "I've come to
pay his debt."
"Nay, it's the Sabbath, ma'am. Yell
pay no debts till Monday. Come in
and have some tea ye pulr thing."'
"You starved his soul to death, and
now I've brought his body to square
hie debts. Will you leave that here
till Monday?"
Mr. McTavlsh looked at her, then
whispered to me. "B'y," said he, "we
must make her cry or she'll be raving
mad. Greet, woman, greet. By God,
I'll make ye greet!"
He marched up and down the side
walk, and through the skirl of miIIb
in a storm, swept a tune that made
the meat shake on my bones.
Once mother shrieked out, trying
to make him stop, but he went on pac
ing in front of her, to and fro, with
his eyes on her all the time, peering
straight through her, and all the grief
of all the world in the skirl and wall,
and that hopeless awful tune. She
covered her face with her hands, try
ing to hold while the great sobs shook
her, and she reeled like a tree In a
gale, until she fell on her knees, un
til she threw herself on the corpse,
and cried, and cried.
CHAPTER II.
The Happy Ship.
Cap'n Mose of the Zedekiah
Baggs 'e was a Sunday Christian.
w.
All
up along 'e'd wear a silk hat, the only
one on the Labrador. Yes. Sundays
'e'd be ashore talkin' predestination
an' grace-out of a book 'e kep' in 'is
berth, but never a word about fish or
the state of the Ice. Mother'd been
raised to a belief In Christians, so
when Mose dropped In at her shack,
admlrln' how she cooked, she'd be
pleased all up the back, and have him
right In to dinner. He'd enn m,
talkin' soft about little children. Yes.
That's how 'e got me away to sea aa
boy on a sealln' voyage, without pay
ing me any wages.
Mother never knew what Cap'n
Mose was like on week-days, and Sun
day didn't happen aboard of the Ze.de-
klah. I remember bidln' away at the
back of Ole Oleson's bunk, axing God
please to turn me Into an animal. Any
sort would do, because I seen men
kind to animals. You know an animal
mostly consists of a pure heart, and
four legs, which is a great advantage.
Queer world though. If all our preyers
was granted.
Belay thar. A man sets out to tell
adventures, and If his victims don't
And some excuse for getting absent,
he owes them all the happiness he's
got. It's mean to hand out sorrow to
persons bearing their full ehare al
ready. So we proceeds to the night
when I ran from the Zedekiab. and
joined the Happy Ship.
We lay in the big Ice pack off Cape
Breton. The Zedekfah was old. just
paint an' punk, and she did purely
groan to the thrust of the pack. 1 was
too scared to sleep, so I went up on
deck.
I'd alius watched for a cbanre to
run away, and thar was Jim, the anchor-watch,
squatting on the tltts
dead asleep. He used to be that way
when nobody chased him.
I seen the lights of the three-masted
schooner a couple of miles to wind
ward. I grabbed a sealing gaff an t
slid down on the Ice.
First, as the pans rocked under me,
I was scary, next I warmed, gettln'
venturesome, until I came near slid
ing into the wet, and after that I'd
look before I lep'.
You know how the grinding piles
an edge around each pan, of broken
splinters? That edge shone white
agin the black of the water, all the
guide I had. But times the squalls of
wind was likes scythes edged with
sleet, so I was blinded, waiting, freez
ing until a lull came, and I'd get on.
It was broad day, and I reckon each
step weighed a ton before I made
that schooner.
A gray man, fat, with a chin whis
ker, lifted me in overside. "Come
far?" says he, and I turned round to
show him the Zedekiah. She wasn't
there. She was gone foundered.
So that's how I came aboard of the
Happy Ship, juBt like a 111' lost dog,
with no room in my skin for more'n
bones and famine. Captain Smith
ueed to say he'd signed me on as fam
ily ghost; but he paid me honest
wages, fed me honest grub, while as
to clothes and bed, I was snug as a
little rabbit. He taught me reading '
and writing, and punctuation with his
belt, sums, hand, reef, and steer, cate
chism, knots and splices, sewing, vque
gee, rule of the road, eoojie moojie,
psalms of David, constitution of the
United States, and playing the trom
bone, with three pills and a good lick
ing regular Saturday nights. Mother's
little boy began to set up and take no
tice. The five years in the Pawtucket all
along, from Montreal to Colon, trom
banjoB plunking In them portales of
Vera Crui. to bugles crying reva'.ly In
Quebec, and the oyster boats asleep
by Old Point Comfort, and the Glouces
ter fleet a-storming home past Saole,
and dagos basking on Havana quays.
Suck oranges in the dinghy under the
moonlight, waiting to help the old man
aboard when he's drunk. If ever he
went ashore' without me, I'd be like
a lost dog, and he drunk before the
sun was over the yard-arm. But away
together it wasn't master and boy. but
Just father and eon. He'd even mimed
me after himself, and that's why my
name's Smith.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Jekyll and Hyde Both Out.
One day Mr. Jenkins, senior part
her In the firm, came out of his pri
vate office and banded Jimmy, the of
fice boy, a slip of paper and said:
"Here, Jimmy, go over to the pub
lic library and get me 'Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde.' I bave written it on a
piece of paper for you so that you will
not forget."
Jimmy lost the slip of paper on the
way. When he diacovered his loss
he returned to the office without go
ing to the library and was seated at
his little desk Innocently shooting flies
with a rubber band when Mr. Jenkins
said to him:
"Well, Jimmy, wbere's 'Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde?'"
"Please, Mr. Jenkins," responded
Jimmy with well feigned candor, "the
lady at the library said they both Just
went to the ball game and to call for
them in the morning."
Interesting Memory Test.
Ask anyone to draw a representation
of a watch face with Roman numbers
and you will have plenty of evidence of
the unreliability of Incidental memory.
Of two hundred persons examined by
Myers only eight omitted the VI from
their drawing of the watch face, and
only twenty-one put 1 1 IT Instead of the
more familiar notation, IV. From this
it would appear that Impeachment of
a witness because of his Inability to re
port some Incidental feature of an
event er .scene Is not psychologically
justified. Case and Comment