Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 40, Number 69, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 May 1908 — A Captain of indolence. [ARTICLE]

A Captain of indolence.

By Frank Sweet.

Gabe was lying upon bla back, bis hands clasped under his head, gazing unthinkingly at the sky. He Was twenty-five years old and barefooted.

Times had been going somewhat hard with him of late. For one thing, he had to think, and the prospect was that before long he might have to do. Cooner'a daughter was now of age, and the understanding between the families had been that some time after Mary Bet was old enough these two should marry, in order to save the seven acres on one side of the slope being separated from the nine scree which pointed and crept over and down the other side. Cooner was arbitrary, and Gabo’s father under the Influence of Cooner, would be Just as despotic. Then Mary Bet was pretty, there was no denying that. But Mary Bet did not like work herself. He had found the ax lying beside three Of jouf uncut branches wixfck her father had dragged in, and the seven or eight chickens pecking about without a sign of coop or Bheiten But alas for plans. A buzzard floated slowly beyond view, and the unthinking epee following U began to grWv ISd heavy, there camd p suodiea leaping interruption. It wan Cooner admonishing bin fatheTi ' "5 *1 ’•a* “I tell ye," the strident voice was Sfiyiufc “this thing's goin' 0U too slow. Fust we know somebody'll be steppta' in, an' then where'll oar two ieetatee be? Divided. There’s that Bill Tanned, already cornin' up to see Bet 1 hh' She 'lowin’ him. Pshaw 1 He'd be Tor earryin' her ‘tray down to his cabin fn the valley, an' likely's not they'd be (Or sellin’ me Seven acres more some day. I tell ye, Mdse, ye must be stirring up Gabe. He’s a good boy an’ if he’s got a single wicked habit I've never heered on it. I'll see the preacher this very day, an’ hate him come up in two weeks.* Gabe had fdtced himself aa deep as possible into the leaves, and he lay with bated breath until the voices and footsteps had died away toward Cooner'a cabin. Then he groaned and removed his hands slowly and despairingly from beneath his head. He must think, and think quickly and hard, or he would be lost

BUI Tanner was peeling bark In the valley. “Hullo. BUI," he began affably. “Gettln’ Quite a heap, ain’t ye?** “Hullo,” he responded, 'but I ‘low ye’d better come some other day. I’m too busy to talk now.” “That** all right,” graciously. “I don’t mind seein’ folks work. Cornin’ ’ rup to-night?” "Where?" “Cooner's, of course,” with a grin. "But there’s no need to git mad, Bill,” at the look on the other's face. “I ain’t here to plague ye. I come down to sell my tater patch. What’ll ye give?” “I’ve heered ’bout that tater patch,” he said. “It's two acreß, an’ old Cooner plowed It with his mule, an’ your dad planted It all by himself. an’ you was to do the hoein* an’ dlggln’ I don’t believe ye’ve struck a lick in It yet” “I don’t believe I have,” acknowledged Gabe, frankly. "But what’ll ye give?” "Why, I thought they was your weddin’ taters/* said Bill, wonderlngly, “I heered Cooner say there’d be forty bushels an’ that ye could sell twenty an’ have twenty for a winter put by." “Yes, I heered him say that myself,” smiled Gabe. “But see here. Bill, I ain’t a henderln’ of nobody. Bet likes you betterin she does me, an' you like her, an’ the wust thing her dad's got ag*ln ye Is that ye’d take her away. He don’t want her to leave. Now there’s ten acres that Joins him on the other side, an' It can be had for thirty dollars. I heered the owner say so. Can ye raise thirty dollars?” anxiously. "You’re the best fellow that ever was," he cried heartily, "an* I’m sorry for anything I’ve ever said or done. I’ll be your friend after this. Now, what’ll ye take for the taters?" “Oh, that’s all right,” easily. "When ye’re married an’ settled up there I’ll let ye do my chores when I have any, so ’twon’t cost ye nothin' but work.” Gabe went directly to Cooner, drawing a long face. “That Bill Tanner’s too smart for me,” he grumbled, "I went down there thlnkln’ I could make a trade, but he’s got my taters an’ I ain't got a thing to show.” He waited long enough for his words to have their full effect, then added: “I b’lleve I’ll go out to Mexico or Maine or somewhere that way. The only thing is it’ll be hard fur Bet to go so fur, but mebbe she can stand It” "Bet—go to Mexico or Maine!” almost shrieked Cooner. "Why, you—you plumb idiot! Bill Tanner’s wuth a dozen of ye. Bet'll stay right here. Now you be gettln’ off.” "But I thought—” "Thought nothin’," angrily. "Git along with ye.” Gabe went with downcast head until he got beyond view of the cabin. Then he began to chuckle. Much of the next two waeka ha spent upon his back with his face to the sky. But when the wedding day came he was among the guests, smiling and happy, and with his hair cut in honor of the momentous occai slon.