Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 41, Number 88, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 July 1909 — HE MOVED NO MORE. [ARTICLE]

HE MOVED NO MORE.

A man with red beard and hair, the latter protruding In front from a hole In his woolen hat, freckled, homely, stood on a crest pearing at something in the distance. His attitude denoted surprise. He nervdusly ran his thumb under Ms left gallus, thrust the other hand In his pocket, took It out and shaded Ms eyes with it His had been the only cabin within ten miles, and now, since he had visited tMs part of hie domain, a log hut had gone up within two miles of him and smoke was curling from the chimney. Starting forward, he triangulated his cowhide boots toward the strange edifice. When he reached it he looked in at the open door. The only sound was from a loud ticking clock. A child about six months old lay asleep in a crib manufactured from the limbs of the trees growing on the ground, the bark remaining where nature had placed it. Presently he went to the door and locked out. No one was in sight. He turned. A flour barrel stood in a corner. Dipping his finger fa soot on the chimney, he wrote on the barrel head: “Dere Sur. I don’t want no naburs. Es you wont sell out to me I got to move. SIRUS MOFFATT.” Mr. Moffatt, having written his message, left the premises, casting a parting glance at the slumbering child. That night he slept but little. For years he had been moving away from his fellow men. He didn’t mind bears or coyotes or snakes, for they were his legitimate prey, if not companionable, but he didn’t like men, because he said “there’s a law agin shootin’ ’em.” He had moved many times and now, being over 40 years old, was becoming averse to change. Yet here was a family settled right under his nose. He waited a week, thinking that his neighbor would communicate with him, but he didn’t. So at the same time of day (6 in the morning) as he made his first visit he made another. He found the same conditions. The door stood open; the clock rattled off the seconds; the child slept. But there was one thing new. On a board over the fireplace intended for a mantel rested the lid of a cracker box on which was written: “WON’T BUY OR SELL.” Cyrus looked disappointed. He turned to the child. Five rosy toes peeped from under a blanket The man took the big toe between his thumb and finger very gingerly. It seemed made of wax, and he was afraid of crushing it. Then he put his forefinger again in the little palm to feel the clutch of the pink fingers, and when it came a grin overspread his ugly features. Then he walked to the fireplace, read the message again and grew serious. It angered him. Turning the box lid over, he wrote on the other side: “I’m cumin to morrer mornen at this time to drive you out.” As he was leaving he again caught sight of the child, paused, glanced back at the message he had written, pondered, then stalked out of the house and away.

The next morning, taking down his rifle from the wall, he went to his neighbor’s cabin. He expected that this time he would find his man and what other memebrs of the family there might be. He was surprised to find only the child. It was awake. It had kicked off its blanket, and a pair of chubby little legs were high in the air. It smiled at him. Approaching he clasped its two ankles In his great wrinkled fists. The child made a grab for his red beard and pulled sturdily. The noisy clock had ticked away some twenty minutes when the child suddenly took it Into its head to squall. Cyrus looked about for something to appease it, and seeing a nursing bottle half full of milk, he put the nipple into the little— one’s mouth. But it continued to squall' thrusting its arms forward. Cyrus took it up, sat down in the only chair in the room, gave it the bottle, and it was happy. So was he. Now, Cyrus had set his rifle against the chimney and was not position either offensive or defensive. He was ta-ta-lng and ba-ba-ing to the child as women do when suddenly he heard a voice say: "Han’s up, stranger!” The voice was a soft one, but Cyrus started. Looking up, he saw a woman standing in the doorway, covering him with a revolver. “I can’t,” said Cyhus, “ 'thout drop pin’ the baby.’ “Y’ come over to drive me out, did y’?,’ The words were not spoken in a fierce tone, Indeed, the woman was laughing at the picture before her. "Where’s yer man?” "Haln’t got no man. I’m a widder woman. My man died before the child was born.' Here were a lone woman and a child trying to get on without their natural protector, the most touching of all conditions. Cyrus surrendered in heart as well as in person. "Reckon y’ kin stay if y’ want to,” he said. “How did y’ happen to come here, enywayf* "My husband bought this property jlst before he died. I had nowheree else to go.” Cyrus Moffatt neither moved on any more nor did he wish to. A babe had softened him. He became its legal protector. F. A. MITCHELL. ■» i ■ ll — 1 —■» - 1 i-