The Woman-Haters Read online

  CHAPTER V

  THE GOING OF JOSHUA

  He found one, after a time, the relic of a ham, with a good deal of meaton it. Atkins, economical soul, would have protested in horror againstthe sinful waste, but his helper would cheerfully have sacrificed awhole hog to quiet the wails from the box in the yard. He pushed theham bone between the slats, and Job received it greedily. The howlsand whines ceased and were succeeded by gnawings and crunchings. Brownreturned to the kitchen to inspect his neglected fire.

  This time the fire was not out, but it burned slowly. The water in thewash boiler was only lukewarm. The big lobster in the net balancedon the chair clashed his claws wickedly as the substitute assistantapproached. The door had been left open, and the room hummed with flies.Brown shut the door and, while waiting for the water to heat, separateda dozen sheets of the sticky fly paper and placed them in conspicuousplaces. He wondered as he did so what some of his former acquaintanceswould say if they could see him. He--HE--a cook, and a roustabout, adishwasher and a scrubber of brass at Eastboro Twin-Lights! How longmust he stay there? For months at least. He should be thankful that hewas there; thankful that there was such a place, where no one came andwhere he could remain until he was forgotten. He was thankful, of coursehe was. But what a life to live!

  He wondered what Atkins thought of him; how much the lightkeeper guessedconcerning his identity and his story. He could not guess within milesof the truth, but he must indulge in some curious speculations. Then hefell to wondering about Seth himself. What was it that the light-keeperwas hiding from the world? Odd that two people, each possessing asecret, should come together at that lonely spot. Where was it that Sethwent almost every afternoon? Had these daily absences any connectionwith the great mystery?

  He distributed the sheets of fly paper about the room, in places wherehe judged them likely to do the most good, and had the satisfaction ofseeing a number of the tormenting insects caught immediately. Thenhe tested the water in the boiler. It was warmer, even hot, but notboiling.

  He had almost forgotten the dog, but now was reminded by the animalitself, who, having apparently swallowed the bone whole, began once moreto howl lugubriously. Brown decided to let him howl for the present,and, going into the living-room, picked up an old magazine and beganlistlessly to read.

  The howls from the yard continued, swelled to a crescendo of shrieksand then suddenly ceased. A moment later there was a thump and a mightyscratching at the kitchen door. The substitute assistant dropped themagazine and sprang from his chair.

  "Good Lord!" he exclaimed; "I believe--"

  He did not finish the sentence. There was no need. If he had any doubtsas to the cause of the racket at the door they were dispelled by a howllike a fog whistle. "Job" had escaped from durance vile and was seekingcompanionship.

  Brown muttered an exclamation of impatience and, opening the door a verylittle way, peeped through the crack. The pup--he looked like a scrawnyyoung lion--hailed his appearance with a series of wild yelps. Hismouth opened like a Mammoth Cave in miniature, and a foot of red tongueflapped like a danger signal.

  "Get out, you brute!" ordered Brown.

  Job did not get out. Instead he yelped again and capered with the graceof a cow. His feet and legs seemed to have grown out of proportion tothe rest of him; they were enormous. Down the length of his yellow backwere three raw furrows which the nails of the box cover had scraped ashe climbed from under them.

  "Nice dog!" coaxed the lightkeeper's helper. "Nice doggie! Good oldboy!"

  The good old boy pranced joyfully and made a charge at the door. Brownslammed it shut just in time.

  "Clear out!" he yelled, from behind it. "Go away! Go and lie down!"

  The answer was a mighty howl of disappointment and an assault on thedoor which threatened to shatter the panels. Job's paws were armed withclaws proportionate to their size.

  This would never do. The paint on that door had been furnished by thegovernment, and Atkins was very careful of it. Brown, within, poundeda protest and again commanded the dog to go and lie down. Job, without,thumped and scratched and howled louder than ever. He had decidedly thebest of the duet, and the door was suffering every second. Brown pickedup the fire shovel and threw the door wide open.

  "Get out!" he roared. "Get out or I'll kill you!"

  He brandished the shovel, expecting an assault. But none came. It wasevident that Job knew a shovel when he saw it, had encountered othershovels in the course of his brief young life. His ears and taildrooped, and he backed away.

  "Clear out!" repeated Brown, advancing threateningly. With each step ofthe advance, Job retreated a corresponding distance. When the assistantstopped, he stopped. Brown lowered the shovel and looked at him. The doggrovelled in the sand and whined dolefully.

  "Humph!" grunted the young man; "I guess you're not as dangerous as youlook. Stay where you are and keep still."

  He turned to enter the kitchen, turning again just in time to find thepup at his heels. He lifted the shovel, and Job jumped frantically outof reach, sat down in a clump of beach grass, lifted his nose to the skyand expressed his feelings in a howl of utter misery.

  "Good--heavens!" observed John Brown fervently, and, shifting the shovelto his left hand, rubbed his forehead with his right. Job howled oncemore and gazed at him with sorrowful appeal. The situation was soridiculous that the young man began to laugh. This merriment appeared toencourage the pup, who stopped howling and began to caper, throwing theloose sand from beneath his paws in showers.

  "What's the matter, old boy?" inquired Brown. "Lonesome, are you?"

  Job was making himself the center of a small-sized sand spout.

  "Humph! Well . . . well, all right. I'm not going to hurt you. Staywhere you are, and I won't shut the door."

  But this compromise was not satisfactory, because the moment the youngman started to cross the threshold the dog started to follow. When Brownhalted, he followed suit--and howled. Then the substitute assistantsurrendered unconditionally.

  "All right," he said. "Come in, then, if you want to. Come in! but forgoodness sake keep still when you are in."

  He strode into the kitchen, leaving the door open. Job slunk after him,and crouched with his muzzle across the sill, evidently not yet certainthat his victory was complete. He did not howl, however, and his lateadversary was thankful for the omission.

  Brown bethought himself of the water in the wash boiler and, removingthe cover, tested it with his finger. It was steadily heating, but notyet at the boiling point. He pushed the boiler aside, lifted a lid ofthe range and inspected the fire. From behind him came a yelp, another,a thump, and then a series of thumps and yelps. He turned and saw Job inthe center of the floor apparently having a fit.

  The moment his back was turned, the pup had sneaked into the kitchen.It was not a large kitchen, and Job was distinctly a large dog. Also,he was suspicious of further assaults with the fire shovel and hadendeavored to find a hiding place under the table. In crawling beneaththis article of furniture he had knocked off a sheet of the fly paper.This had fallen "butter side down" upon his back, and stuck fast. Hereached aft to pull it loose with his teeth and had encountered asecond sheet laid on a chair. This had stuck to his neck. Job was anapprehensive animal by nature and as the result of experience, and hisnerves were easily unstrung. He forgot the shovel, forgot the human whomhe had been fearfully trying to propitiate, forgot everything except thedreadful objects which clung to him and pulled his hair. He rolled frombeneath the table, a shrieking, kicking, snapping cyclone. And thatkitchen was no place for a cyclone.

  He rolled and whirled for an instant, then scrambled to his feet andbegan running in widening circles. Brown tried to seize him as hepassed, but he might as well have seized a railroad train. Anotherchair, also loaded with fly paper, upset, and Job added a third sheet tohis collection. This one plastered itself across his nose and eyes. Heceased running forward and began to leap high in the air and backwards.The net containing the big lobster
fell to the floor. Then John Brownfled to the open air, leaned against the side of the building andscreamed with laughter.

  Inside the kitchen the uproar was terrific. Howls, shrill yelps, thumpsand crashes. Then came a crash louder than any preceding it, a splash ofwater across the sill, and from the doorway leaped, or flew, an objectsteaming and dripping, fluttering with fly paper, and with a giantlobster clamped firmly to its tail. The lobster was knocked off againstthe door post, but the rest of the exhibit kept on around the corner ofthe house, shrieking as it flew. Brown collapsed in the sand and laugheduntil his sides ached and he was too weak to laugh longer.

  At last he got up and staggered after it. He was still laughing whenhe reached the back yard, but there he stopped laughing and uttered anexclamation of impatience and some alarm.

  Of Job there was no sign, though from somewhere amid the dunes soundedyelps, screams and the breaking of twigs as the persecuted one fledblindly through the bayberry and beachplum bushes. But Brown was notanxious about the dog. What caused him to shout and then break into arun was the sight of Joshua, the old horse, galloping at top speed alongthe road to the south. Even his sedate and ancient calm had not beenproof against the apparition which burst from the kitchen. In his frighthe had broken his halter rope and managed--a miracle, considering hisage--to leap the pasture fence and run.

  That horse was the apple of Seth Atkins's eye. The lightkeeper believedhim to be a wonder of strength and endurance, and never left the lightswithout cautioning his helper to keep an eye on Joshua, "'cause ifanything happened to him I'd have to hunt a mighty long spell to findanother that could tech him." Brown accepted this trust with composure,feeling morally certain that the only thing likely to happen toJoshua was death from overeating or old age. And now something hadhappened--Joshua was running away.

  There was but one course to take; Brown must leave the government'sproperty in its own care and capture that horse. He had laughed untilrunning seemed an impossibility, but run he must, and did, after afashion. But Joshua was running, too, and he was frightened. He gallopedlike a colt, and the assistant lightkeeper gained upon him very slowly.

  The road was crooked and hilly, and the sand in its ruts was deep. Brownwould not have gained at all, but for the fact that the horse, from longhabit, kept to the roadway and never tried short cuts. His pursuer did,and, therefore, just as Joshua entered the grove on the bluff abovePounddug Slough, Brown caught up with him and made a grab at the end ofthe trailing halter. He missed it, and the horse took a fresh start.

  The road through the grove was overgrown with young trees and bushes,and amid these the animal had a distinct advantage. Not until the outeredge of the grove was reached did the panting assistant get anotheropportunity at the rope. This time he seized it and held on.

  "Whoa!" he shouted. "Whoa!"

  But Joshua did not "whoa" at once. He kept on along the edge of thehigh, sandy slope. Brown, from the tail of his eye, caught a glimpseof the winding channel of the Slough beneath him, of a small schoonerheeled over on the mud flat at its margin, and of the figure of a man atwork beside it.

  "Whoa!" he ordered once more. "Whoa, Josh! stand still!"

  Perhaps the horse would have stood still--he seemed about to do so--butfrom the distance, somewhere on the road he had just traversed, camea howl, long-drawn and terrifyingly familiar. Joshua heard it, jumpedsidewise, jerked at the halter and, as if playing "snap the whip,"sent his would-be captor heels over head over the edge of the bank androlling down the sandy slope. The halter flew from Brown's hands, herolled and bumped and clutched at clumps of grass and bushes. Then hestruck the beach and stopped, spread-eagled on the wet sand.

  A voice said: "Well--by--TIME!"

  Brown looked up. Seth Atkins, a paint pail in one hand and a drippingbrush in the other, was standing beside him, blank astonishment writtenon his features.

  "Well--by time!" said Seth again, and with even stronger emphasis.

  The substitute assistant raised himself to his knees, rubbed his backwith one hand, and then, turning, sat in the sand and returned hissuperior's astonished gaze with one of equal bewilderment.

  "Hello!" he gasped. "Well, by George! it's you, isn't it! What are youdoing here?"

  The lightkeeper put down the pail of paint.

  "What am I doin'?" he repeated. "What am I doin'--? Say!" Hisastonishment changed to suspicion and wrath. "Never you mind what I'mdoin'," he went on. "That's my affairs. What are YOU doin' here? That'swhat I want to know."

  Brown rubbed the sand out of his hair.

  "I don't know exactly what I am doing--yet," he panted.

  "You don't, hey? Well, you'd better find out. Maybe I can help you toremember. Sneakin' after me, wa'n't you? Spyin', to find out what I wasup to, hey?"

  He shook the wet paint brush angrily at his helper. Brown looked at himfor an instant; then he rose to his feet.

  "Spyin' on me, was you?" repeated Seth.

  "Didn't I tell you that mindin' your own business was part of our dickerif you was goin' to stay at Eastboro lighthouse? Didn't I tell youthat?"

  The young man answered with a contemptuous shrug. Turning on his heel,he started to walk away. Atkins sprang after him.

  "Answer me," he ordered. "Didn't I say you'd got to mind your ownbusiness?"

  "You did," coldly.

  "You bet I did! And was you mindin' it?"

  "No. I was minding yours--like a fool. Now you may mind it yourself."

  "Hold on there! Where you goin'?"

  "Back to the lights. And you may go to the devil, or anywhere else thatsuits your convenience, and take your confounded menagerie with you."

  "My menag--What on earth? Say, hold on! Mercy on us, what's that?"

  From the top of the bluff came a crashing and a series of yelps. Throughthe thicket of beachplum bushes was thrust a yellow head, fringed withtorn fragments of fly paper.

  "What's that?" demanded the astonished lightkeeper.

  Brown looked at the whining apparition in the bushes and smiledmaliciously.

  "That," he observed, "is Job."

  "JOB?"

  "Yes." From somewhere in the grove came a thrashing of branches and afrightened neigh. "And that," he continued, "is Joshua, I presume. Ifthere are more Old Testament patriarchs in the vicinity, I don't knowwhere they are, and I don't care. You may hunt for them yourself. I'mgoing to follow your advice and mind my own business. Good by."

  He strode off up the beach. Job, at the top of the bank, started tofollow, but a well-aimed pebble caused him to dodge back.

  "Hold on!" roared the lightkeeper. "Maybe I made a mistake. Perhaps youwa'n't spyin' on me. Don't go off mad. I . . . Wait!"

  But John Brown did not wait. He strode rapidly away up the beach. Sethstared after him. From the grove, where his halter had caught firmly inthe fork of a young pine, Joshua thrashed and neighed.

  "Aa-oo-ow!" howled Job, from the bushes.

  An hour later Atkins, leading the weary and homesick Joshua by thebridle, trudged in at the lighthouse yard. Job, still ornamented withremnants of the fly paper, slunk at his heels. Seth stabled the horseand, after some manoeuvering, managed to decoy the dog down the slope tothe boathouse, where he closed the door upon him and his whines. Then heclimbed back to the kitchen.

  The table was set for one, and in the wash boiler on the range the giantlobster was cooking. Of the substitute assistant keeper there was nosign, but, after searching, Seth found him in his room.

  "Well?" observed Atkins, gruffly, "we might 's well have supper, hadn'twe?"

  Brown did not seem interested. "Your supper is ready, I think," heanswered. "I tried not to forget anything."

  "I guess 'tis; seems to be. Come on, and we'll eat."

  "I have eaten, thank you."

  "You have? Alone?"

  "Yes. That, too," with emphasis, "is a part of my business."

  The lightkeeper stared, grunted, and then went out of the room. He ate alonely meal, not of the lobster--he kept that
for another occasion--butone made up of cold scraps from the pantry. He wandered uneasily aboutthe premises, quieted Job's wails for the time by a gift of eatable oddsand ends tossed into the boathouse, smoked, tried to read, and, when itgrew dusk, lit the lamps in the towers. At last he walked to the closeddoor of his helper's room and rapped.

  "Well?" was the ungracious response.

  "It's me, Atkins," he announced, hesitatingly. "I'd like to speak toyou, if you don't mind."

  "On business?"

  "Well, no--not exactly. Say, Brown, I guess likely I'd ought to beg yourpardon again. I cal'late I've made another mistake. I jedge you wa'n'tspyin' on me when you dove down that bankin'."

  "Your judgment is good this time. I was not."

  "No, I'm sartin you wa'n't. I apologize and take it all back. Now can Icome in?"

  The door was thrown open. Seth entered, looking sheepish, and sat downin the little cane-seated rocker.

  "Say," he began, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, "would youmind--now that I've begged your pardon and all--tellin' me what didhappen while I was away. I imagine, judgin' by the looks of things inthe kitchen, that there was--er--well, consider'ble doin', as the boyssay."

  He grinned. Brown tried to be serious, but was obliged to smile inreturn.

  "I'll tell you," he said. "Of course you know where that--er--remarkabledog came from?"

  "I can guess," drily. "Henry G.'s present, ain't he? Humph! Well, I'dought to have known that anything Henry would GIVE away was likely tobe remarkable in all sorts of ways. All right! that's one Henry's got onme. Tomorrow afternoon me and Job take a trip back to Eastboro, and oneof us stays there. It may be me, but I have my doubts. I agreed to takea DOG on trial, not a yeller-jaundiced cow with a church organ inside ofit. Hear the critter whoopin' down there in the boathouse! And he's eateverything that's chewable on the reservation already. He's a famine onlegs, that pup. But never mind him. He's been tried--and found guilty.Tell me what happened."

  Brown began the tale of the afternoon's performances, beginning with hisexperience as a lobster catcher. Seth smiled, then chuckled, and finallyburst into roars of laughter, in which the narrator joined.

  "Jiminy crimps!" exclaimed Seth, when the story was finished. "Oh, byjiminy crimps! that beats the Dutch, and everybody's been told what theDutch beat. Ha, ha! ho, ho! Brown, I apologize all over again. I don'twonder you was put out when I accused you of spyin'. Wonder you hadn'triz up off that sand and butchered me where I stood. Cal'late that'swhat I'd have done in your place. Well, I hope there's no hard feelin'snow."

  "No. Your apology, is accepted."

  "That's good. Er--er--say, you--you must have been sort of surprised tosee me paintin' the Daisy M."

  "The which?"

  "The Daisy M. That's the name of that old schooner I was to work on."

  "Indeed. . . . How is the weather tonight, clear?"

  "Yes, it's fair now, but looks sort of thick to the east'ard. I sayyou must have been surprised to see me paintin' the Daisy M. I've beentinkerin' on that old boat, off and on, ever since last fall. Bought herfor eight dollars of the feller that owned her, and she was a hulk forsartin then. I've caulked her up and rigged her, after a fashion. Nowshe might float, if she had a chance. Every afternoon, pretty nigh, I'vebeen at her. Don't know exactly why I do it, neither. And yet I do,too. Prob'ly you've wondered where I was takin' all that old canvas andstuff. I--"

  "Excuse me, Atkins. I mind my own business, you know. I ask noquestions, and you are under no obligation to tell me anything."

  "I know, I know." The lightkeeper nodded solemnly. He clasped his kneewith his hands and rocked back and forth in his chair. "I know," he wenton, an absent, wistful look in his eye; "but you must have wondered,just the same. I bought that craft because--well, because she remindedme of old times, I cal'late. I used to command a schooner like her once;bigger and lots more able, of course, but a fishin' schooner, sameas she used to be. And I was a good skipper, if I do say it. My crewsjumped when I said the word, now I tell you. That's where I belong--onthe deck of a vessel. I'm a man there--a man."

  He paused. Brown made no comment. Seth continued to rock and to talk; heseemed to be thinking aloud.

  "Yes, sir," he declared, with a sigh; "when I was afloat I was a man,and folks respected me. I just do love salt water and sailin' craft.That's why I bought the Daisy M. I've been riggin' her and caulkin' herjust for the fun of doin' it. She'll never float again. It would takea tide like a flood to get her off them flats. But when I'm aboard orputterin' around her, I'm happy--happier, I mean. It makes me forgetI'm a good-for-nothin' derelict, stranded in an old woman's job oflightkeepin'. Ah, hum-a-day, young feller, you don't know what it isto have been somebody, and then, because you was a fool and did a foolthing, to be nothin'--nothin'! You don't know what that is."

  John Brown caught his breath. His fist descended upon the window ledgebeside him.

  "Don't I!" he groaned. "By George, don't I! Do you suppose--"

  He stopped short. Atkins started and came out of his dream.

  "Why--why, yes," he said, hastily; "I s'pose likely you do. . . . Well,good night. I've got to go on watch. See you in the mornin'."