Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 April 1891 — CHUB. [ARTICLE]

CHUB.

BY DAVID LOWRY.

k Romance of West Virginia.

CHAPTER Vl—Continued. THE LAGGARD LOVER. The gossips did not get much satisfaction out of Dan Bash. They did find much to enjoy in talking about the preparations for Chub Dawson’s wedding. The preparations were on a scale never attempted in that part of the country. The invitations were so numerous that the people wondered where Hank Dawson would put them all —where they would find room to dance. Neither Mr. Dawson nor his daughter explained to the curious. As for Dan Bash, he had nothing whatever to say concerning the arrangements. “I leave all that to the Dawsons,” he said when questioned. But he had planned it all. It was the schoolmaster, not the blacksmith, who calculated the quantity of lumber it would be necessary to lay down for a dancing floor on the ground before Hank Dawson’s door. It was Dan Bash who suggested the purchase of canned fruits and meats. He knew everything—could sum up the cost—and it was his estimate that Hank Dawson copied when he wrote out, with Chub’s assistance, the order for the things that were to be sent by express from the great city. When the wedding day arrived the country side knew all about it. How Hank Dawson had been to the expense of putting down a dancing floor that a hundred poeple could occupy at once, or maybe more. Stories of the quantities of provisions Hank had brought from the town near at hand and the distant city were circulated the day before the wedding. “Wasn’t the names on the boxes—didn’t everybody see the dead loads of stuff?” And to crown all, there was to be real “band music. ” The band music referred to was a small but fairly balanced organization employed on extraordinary occasions in the town. The guests were invited to be present at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. The marriage ceremony would take place at 6, when supper would be served. Dancing and ail manner of diversions would precede and follow the marriage ceremony. The guests were promptly on hand. They cams from all quarters. Some were there who lived seventy miles distant. They came in wagons, in buggies, on horseback and afoot. It was the largest and merriest gathering ever witnessed in the county. Hajik Dawson was in his glory—laughed and talked with everybody. His hearty laugh rang over the farm as he moved among his guests. Along about 4 o’clock the preacher came. The preacher was a famous wag. He was as welcome as any story-teller that ever entertained an appreciative crowd. But one man was absent. That was Dan Bash, and he was due at 5 o’clock, when he would join the merrymakers. Five o’clock come, but the bridegroom did not appear. A quarter past five Dan Bash was considered a laggard in love by all the men there. At half-past five his groomsman agreed with the bridesmaid that it would be serving him just right if Chub read him a lecture when he did get there. The woman and girls began to speculate. They somehow managed to get into little groups and talked in low tones. Fifteen minutes to six, and no sign of Dan Bash. And yety-as everybody knew, he was only four miles away. A lover with any fire in him could walk the distance in three-quarters of an hour. At six the sports lagged nobody seemed to be interested in them. There was no bridegroom—no sign Of a bridegroom. Hank Dawson moved around cheerily among the hundreds there—he was as bright, seeiningly, as ever. At a quarter past six he stood at the side of the platform the dancers were lounging on, and said in loud, clear, level tones that all could hear: “My friends, there t seems to be some mistake somewhere. I don’t know what it is. D-an Bash ought to be here —he ain’t and that’s all I know. If he comes, why, he can marry after supper just as well as before, but I am not going to wait a minute longer. Supper will be served immediately. We will sit down.” There were whispers and wonderings, many winks and wise glances, but the guests promptly availed themselves of Hank Dawson's cordial invitation to “help themselves freely and make the most of everything.” To the surprise of the women folks, Chub Dawson flitted about, directing the assistants how to serve the guests. She was, to all seeming, as seif-pdssessed as was her wont. The supper was prolonged. The great crowd ate and drank heartily. If the absence of the bridegroom was unaccountable, unexpected, something that overwhelmed everybody with surprise, it did not interfere with the guests’ appetites. At the conclusion of the supper, Hank Dawson rose and asked his guests to give him their attention. Then he said, slowly and deliberately: “This is a strange thing, friends. I promised you a wedding. I've done my part The p/ople here have done theirs. The only cnje to blame is Dan Bash.” “Father, father,” said Chub softly, at his elbow But Hank Daw’son’s eyes kindled, and his voice rang out bold and clear: “I may as well say it as think it Dan Bash has failed to come to time. Why he ain’t here —what keeps him, —I haven’t any more idee than anyone here has. But I’ll try to find out—to-morrow. Now, then, you’ie argoin’ to proceed just the same as if it was all regular and they were married. I'm not goin’ to have fun spoiled or a good time cut short just because something’s happened or gone wrong I ain’t noways responsible for. You'll go right on dancin' till 12 o’clock—or as long as you’ve a mind to.” A few of the men clapped their hands, but the women whispered to each other. Suddenly Chub’s voice was heard: “Father’s right Enjoy yourselves, but I want to say one thing. It ain’t

Dan Bash’s fault If he Isn’t here, it’s because something’s happened to prevent it I won’t say any more now —but if he is not here to-morrow, I will tell you what I think is the matter. Now, do as father says.” There was something in Chub’s simple speech and manner that impressed all there. What did she mean? But in the meantime they would dance, for the music had struck up; a lively air* caused the blood to circulate swifter in the young people's veins, and soon they were mingling in mazy figures, while the voice of the leader called them to their proper places in ringing tones. The merriment was at its height when a riderless horse came into view. * The moment , the horse galloped up to the fence. Chub Dawson screamed and ran toward it. .Hank Dawson followed her. “It’s Dan’s horse, dad! Something's happened to him!” The crowd heard Chub’s cry and her exclamations of grief as she sprang to the horse, which nelghea shrilly, and stood quite still as she stroked the horse’s neck. “See, dad, see! There’s a mark on the saddle.” Hank Dawson peered at the saddle, then said in a low tone: “It’s —it’s nothing much, I reckon.” But Chub was at his side now, and she, too, looked closer at the spot. “It’s blood! It’s Dan's blood!” Chub turned to the wondering crowd near her, and, pointing to the marks on the saddle, screamed, rather than said: .*1 can tell you what I kept back for to-inorrow—he’s been waylaid—they’ve waylaid him and killed him.” “Murdered!” said the preacher in awestruck tones. Then silence fell upon the merrymakers. When they separated later, to return to their homes, amazement found expression in threats of vengeance upon the murderers of Dan Bash on his wedding day. For all believed he had been murdered.

CHAPTER VII. THE FRUITLESS SEARCH. “This thing’s got to be looked into at once,” said Hank Dawson. His face was stern. The men nearest him, and who lived near at hand, who were not compelled to accompany their lady friends or re'atives home, volunteered to assist him in clearing up what promised to be the greatest sensation in the county. They stood looking at the horse, which moved his head back and forward in a restless manner. “Dad, this horse has been abused ” It was Chub's voice. “See—here are marks. You can see them And you can feel the lumps on , him. Some brute has kicked or beat him. ’Tain’t likely as Dan Bash would ever do that.” “No. I never seen a man who was kinder with all animals,” said Hank, quickly. “You're right, Chub. Here, gentlemen, you can see and feel for yourselves. ” The crowd examined the horse carefully. There was just enough light left to see the marks. “It’s a dern shame,” said Eli Potts, the landlord of the tavern at the Corners, who was always on hand at a wedding or funeral, “cos they brought folks together. ” Eli's opinion was heartily indorsed by the crowd. The horse was quivering with excitement He put his nose in Chub's hand eagerly. A human being craving sympathy couldn’t have expressed himself plainer than Dan Bash’s horse. And yet Dan had only had the animal two weeks. To be sure, he had borrowed the loan of the beautiful gray; he knew its temper and disposition, but he had not invested I in the gray until he was sure of the I school. Then he purchased the horse as i an investment. He had said to the ; blacksmith and his affianced that he | would double his money on the young gray. “Don’t cry, Chub,” said her father, as she suddenly gave way to her tears when the women were all gone and she was hanging over Dan’s horse. “I was just thinking. He built so much on this horse, dad. ” “Yes. he did. And a mighty good judge of horses Dan was. ” “Don’t say was, father, don’t.” “I mean is. Who knows but he’s all right. ” “Well, we must go and see,” said Chub. “Who’ll go to where he put up? We’d best divide—there's no telling which way he come.” “That’s a fact. ” The men whispered. Half of the force that voluntered to search for the rider j of the horse were in their saddles now. A man with forethought rare brought Chub’s horse to her side, ready for her to mount Another brought Hank Dawson’s. “This is an ugly business, I'm afeared.” said Hank Dawson as he mounted his big roan, a good traveler. “Father, if the crowd will go to Dan’s house, and if they don't find any word of him, divide and go round by the bottom of the big road. I'll take a lot with me, and we’ll scatter among the big pines. That’s the way to cover the most ground i at once. And whoever finds him will take him to the nearest place—here, or back to his stopping place.” All agreed that Chub's suggestion was timely, the very best thing that could be done. The crowd separated immediately, as- j ter providing themselves with material j to strike lights, and prosecute the search I thoroughl in the forest. The search was conducted with vigor , and spirit. Four different parties pushed ’ in different directions toward the house I where Dan Bash had made his home. They cried aloud at intervals, listen- ' ing for the response that never came. They peered into undergrowth, fired pistols, crossed and recrossed rarely traveled paths, but no sign did they discover of the missing bridegroom. An hour later a gloomy crowd assembled at the house where Dan had made his home since he assumed charge of the school. The men talked in low tones; each had his own idea, but they did not speak out boldly. The first man to express himself clearly and boldly was Hank Dawson. “Gentlemen, it looks like wastin' time to look further. Of course, I'm goin’ to look on the road home again. Any one that wants to can go with me. I don’t expect any one, tho’. Seems lost time. ” Half a dozen volunteered on the instant. “Thanks, gentlemen. I’m obleeged t* ye. It’s a powerful sight o’ trouble — but one good turn deserves another. You all know you can count on me. Chub.” “Well, father?” In was a remarkable thing—every one remarked it—that Chub never said

“father” save when she was In a very sober vein. “Dad” was her favorite expression. “I guess we’d best go home again. ” “No, father; I’m hbt going home until I find Dan.” “Sho, Chub. ” “I can’t, father.” “Why?” “Well you I can't, father. He’s somewhere nigh.” “We don’t know nothin’ about that, Chub. ” “He has been followed or overpowered, and I think I know who did it. But I must find him. Dead or alive, I must find him.” “Well, well, well.” “You can go on round the cliffs,father; some of us will hunt through the big ’ woods, wherever we think he might be hid. ” “It’s all nonsense. Chub; but it’s just as you like. I’m going to do just as you like now, I’ll hunt till daylight—l'll hunt all week if you say so.” “I do, I do, father.” “Why, of course—why shouldn’t I do anything you ask me to? Besides, maybe he may be lying somewheres. Anyhow, here I am. ” And there were others, too, a dozen or more, wiio resolved to hunt the mountains until daylight They scoured the mountain fastnesses till daybreak. Then they breakfasted at Hank Dawson’s, and ten strong men said they would devote another day to the quest. “I’ll never forget you folks,” said Chub Dawson, smiling on them as they mounted their horses in front of her father’s house. Her own horse was champing his bit, eager to move. The party were well provided for. They had abundance for lunch, and every man had his flask of liquor. They set out resolved to solve the mystery, if it could be solved. They hunted all that day and until midnight, and then the volunteers sadly confessed their labors were fruitless, as they assembled once more, as by previous arrangement, at the house where Dan had boarded. The people who made him welcome in their family were almost distracted. They had grown to like Dan Bash very much. Two grown sons regarded him as a very superior being. They were among the most active searchers. These men shed bitter tears. Not so Chub. Chub had not shed a tear in the presence of any one since the horse came running up to her at her father’s fence, with flying mane. “It’s all no use, boys,” said Hank Dawson, sadly. “You may go home.” Chub was silent- She remained'silent until the crowd separated., When the two were alone with the people of the House, Chub said: “Father, you know who,has done this. ” “I suspect, Chub. I‘m not ready to swear it ”

“I am. I feel it. I can’t tell you how, but, father, I know it” “You’re nervous—upset, Chub.” “I am—but it aint that.” “You can’t know it, Chub, ’less you see it, or hear something that you can prove. Have you?” “No, I haven’t. But I tell you I know it just as well as I know I’m'talking to you. Father—l’m just as sure Dan’s alive as I’m talking to you.” “If he’s alive —where is he? Don’t go too fast. How do we know what turn things may take. It's best not to say what you think.” “I know —I understand. You think some people may say that because we can’t find no sign of Dan Bash—he’s run away—gone and backed out of the marriage. ” “My God, Chub, I didn’t say that!” “But you can’t help thinking what people will think, father.” Hank Dawson was silent. He was so honest he would not lie to her even then. “I know it. I’ve had plenty of time to think. That’s why I’m not going to give up.” “That’s all right, Chub. Of course it is nat’ral you won't give uj/looking. ” “Dad.” There was her old brightness as she uttered the teriXof endearment. \ “Well, Chub —out withit.” \ “Suppose you give out that we’re goin* to stop here now till morning. It’s after 12. We can take a rest, and have a good talk with the Biggers, and then, along about half-past 2 or 3, you’ll start home with me.” “Just as you like, Chub. Anything you say.” So they talked to the Biggers as if they would remain-till the next day. “You’ve some little scheme, Chub,” said her father in a whisper. “I’ll tell you by and by, dad.” Then they sat down to a late supper—all the volunteer party had eaten heartily before bidding each other good night—and after they ate began to talk over the extraordinary disappearance of Dan Basil. [to be continued.]