V
BEAVER BEACH
The Canaan Daily Tocsin of the following morning "ventured
the assertion" upon its front page that "the scene at
the Pike Mansion was one of unalloyed festivity, music, and mirth;
a fairy bower of airy figures wafting here and there to the throb
of waltz-strains; a veritable Temple of Terpsichore, shining forth
with a myriad of lights, which, together with the generous profusion
of floral decorations and the mingled delights afforded by Minds's
orchestra of Indianapolis and Caterer Jones of Chicago, was in all
likelihood never heretofore surpassed in elegance in our city. .
. . Only one incident," the Tocsin remarked, "marred an
otherwise perfect occasion, and out of regard for the culprit's
family connections, which are prominent in our social world, we
withhold his name. Suffice it to say that through the vigilance
of Mr. Norbert Flitcroft, grandson of Colonel A. A. Flitcroft, who
proved himself a thorough Lecoq (the celebrated French detective),
the rascal was seized and recognized. Mr. Flitcroft, having discovered
him in hiding, had a cordon of waiters drawn up around his hiding-place,
which was the charmingly decorated side piazza of the Pike Mansion,
and sent for Judge Pike, who came upon the intruder by surprise.
He evaded the Judge's indignant grasp, but received a well- merited
blow over the head from a poker which the Judge had concealed about
his person while pretending to approach the hiding-place casually.
Attracted to the scene by the cries of Mr. Flitcroft, who, standing
behind Judge Pike, accidentally received a blow from the same weapon,
all the guests of the evening sprang to view the scene, only to
behold the culprit leap through a crevice between the strips of
canvas which enclosed the piazza. He was seized by the colored coachman
of the Mansion, Sam Warden, and immediately pounced upon by the
cordon of Caterer Jones's dusky assistants from Chicago, who were
in ambush outside. Unfortunately, after a brief struggle he managed
to trip Warden, and, the others stumbling upon the prostrate body
of the latter, to make his escape in the darkness.
"It is not believed by many that his intention was burglary,
though what his designs were can only be left to conjecture, as
he is far beyond the age when boys perform such actions out of a
sense of mischief. He had evidently occupied his hiding- place some
time, and an idea of his coolness may be obtained from his having
procured and eaten a full meal through an unknown source. Judge
Pike is justly incensed, and swears that he will prosecute him on
this and other charges as soon as he can be found. Much sympathy
is felt for the culprit's family, who feel his shame most keenly,
but who, though sorrowing over the occurrence, declare that they
have put up with his derelictions long enough, and will do nothing
to step between him and the Judge's righteous indignation."
The Pike Mansion, "scene of festivity, music, and mirth"
(not quite so unalloyed, after all, the stricken Flitcroft keeping
his room for a week under medical supervision), had not been the
only bower of the dance in Canaan that evening: another Temple of
Terpsichore had shone forth with lights, though of these there were
not quite a myriad. The festivities they illumined obtained no mention
in the paper, nor did they who trod the measures in this second
temple exhibit any sense of injury because of the Tocsin's omission.
Nay, they were of that class, shy without being bashful, exclusive
yet not proud, which shuns publicity with a single- heartedness
almost unique in our republic, courting observation neither in the
prosecution of their professions nor in the pursuit of happiness.
Not quite a mile above the northernmost of the factories on the
water-front, there projected into the river, near the end of the
crescent bend above the town, a long pier, relic of steamboat days,
rotting now, and many years fallen from its maritime uses. About
midway of its length stood a huge, crazy shed, long ago utilized
as a freight storeroom. This had been patched and propped, and a
dangerous-looking veranda attached to it, over- hanging the water.
Above the doorway was placed a sign whereon might be read the words,
"Beaver Beach, Mike's Place." The shore end of the pier
was so ruinous that passage was offered by a single row of planks,
which presented an appearance so temporary, as well as insecure,
that one might have guessed their office to be something in the
nature of a drawbridge. From these a narrow path ran through a marsh,
left by the receding river, to a country road of desolate appearance.
Here there was a rough enclosure, or corral, with some tumble-down
sheds which afforded shelter, on the night of Joseph Louden's disgrace,
for a number of shaggy teams attached to those decrepit and musty
vehicles known picturesquely and accurately as Night-Hawks. The
presence of such questionable shapes in the corral indicated that
the dance was on at Beaver Beach, Mike's Place, as surely as the
short line of cabs and family carriages on upper Main Street made
it known that gayety was the order of the night at the Pike Mansion.
But among other differences was this, that at the hour when the
guests of the latter were leaving, those seeking the hospitalities
of Beaver Beach had just begun to arrive.
By three o'clock, however, joy at Mike's Place had become beyond
question unconfined, and the tokens of it were audible for a long
distance in all directions. If, however, there is no sound where
no ear hears, silence rested upon the country-side until an hour
later. Then a lonely figure came shivering from the direction of
the town, not by the road, but slinking through the snow upon the
frozen river. It came slowly, as though very tired, and cautiously,
too, often turning its head to look behind. Finally it reached the
pier, and stopped as if to listen.
Within the house above, a piano of evil life was being beaten to
death for its sins and clamoring its last cries horribly. The old
shed rattled in every part with the thud of many heavy feet, and
trembled with the shock of noise--an incessant roar of men's voices,
punctuated with women's screams. Then the riot quieted somewhat;
there was a clapping of hands, and a violin began to squeak measures
intended to be Oriental. The next moment the listener scrambled
up one of the rotting piles and stood upon the veranda. A shaft
of red light through a broken shutter struck across the figure above
the shoulders, revealing a bloody handkerchief clumsily knotted
about the head, and, beneath it, the face of Joe Louden.
He went to the broken shutter and looked in. Around the blackened
walls of the room stood a bleared mob, applausively watching, through
a fog of smoke, the contortions of an old woman in a red calico
wrapper, who was dancing in the centre of the floor. The fiddler--a
rubicund person evidently not suffering from any great depression
of spirit through the circumstance of being "out on bail,"
as he was, to Joe's intimate knowledge-- sat astride a barrel, resting
his instrument upon the foamy tap thereof, and playing somewhat
after the manner of a 'cellist; in no wise incommoded by the fact
that a tall man (known to a few friends as an expert in the porch-climbing
line) was sleeping on his shoulder, while another gentleman (who
had prevented many cases of typhoid by removing old plumbing from
houses) lay on the floor at the musician's feet and endeavored to
assist him by plucking the strings of the fiddle.
Joe opened the door and went in. All of the merry company (who were
able) turned sharply toward the door as it opened; then, recognizing
the new-comer, turned again to watch the old woman. One or two nearest
the door asked the boy, without great curiosity, what had happened
to his head. He merely shook it faintly in reply, and crossed the
room to an open hallway beyond. At the end of this he came to a
frowzy bedroom, the door of which stood ajar. Seated at a deal table,
and working by a dim lamp with a broken chimney, a close-cropped,
red-bearded, red-haired man in his shirt-sleeves was jabbing gloomily
at a column of figures scrawled in a dirty ledger. He looked up
as Joe appeared in the doorway, and his eyes showed a slight surprise.
"I never thought ye had the temper to git somebody to split
yer head," said he. "Where'd ye collect it?"
"Nowhere," Joe answered, dropping weakly on the bed. "It
doesn't amount to anything."
"Well, I'll take just a look fer myself," said the red-bearded
man, rising. "And I've no objection to not knowin' how ye come
by it. Ye've always been the great one fer keepin' yer mysteries
to yerself."
He unwound the handkerchief and removed it from Joe's head gently.
"WHEE!" he cried, as a long gash was exposed over the
forehead. "I hope ye left a mark somewhere to pay a little
on the score o' this!"
Joe chuckled and dropped dizzily back upon the pillow. "There
was another who got something like it," he gasped, feebly;
"and, oh, Mike, I wish you could have heard him going on! Perhaps
you did--it was only three miles from here."
"Nothing I'd liked better!" said the other, bringing a
basin of clear water from a stand in the corner. "It's a beautiful
thing to hear a man holler when he gits a grand one like ye're wearing
to-night."
He bathed the wound gently, and hurrying from the room, returned
immediately with a small jug of vinegar. Wetting a rag with this
tender fluid, he applied it to Joe's head, speaking soothingly the
while.
"Nothing in the world like a bit o' good cider vinegar to keep
off the festerin'. It may seem a trifle scratchy fer the moment,
but it assassinates the blood-p'ison. There ye go! It's the fine
thing fer ye, Joe--what are ye squirmin' about?"
"I'm only enjoying it," the boy answered, writhing as
the vinegar worked into the gash. "Don't you mind my laughing
to myself."
"Ye're a good one, Joe!" said the other, continuing his
ministrations. "I wisht, after all, ye felt like makin' me
known to what's the trouble. There's some of us would be glad to
take it up fer ye, and--"
"No, no; it's all right. I was somewhere I had no business
to be, and I got caught."
"Who caught ye?"
"First, some nice white people"--Joe smiled his distorted
smile--"and then a low-down black man helped me to get away
as soon as he saw who it was. He's a friend of mine, and he fell
down and tripped up the pursuit."
"I always knew ye'd git into large trouble some day."
The red-bearded man tore a strip from an old towel and began to
bandage the boy's head with an accustomed hand. "Yer taste
fer excitement has been growin' on ye every minute of the four years
I've known ye."
"Excitement!" echoed Joe, painfully blinking at his friend.
"Do you think I'm hunting excitement?"
"Be hanged to ye!" said the red-bearded man. "Can't
I say a teasing word without gittin' called to order fer it? I know
ye, my boy, as well as ye know yerself. Ye're a queer one. Ye're
one of the few that must know all sides of the world-- and can't
content themselves with bein' respectable! Ye haven't sunk to `low
life' because ye're low yourself, but ye'll never git a damned one
o' the respectable to believe it. There's a few others like ye in
the wide world, and I've seen one or two of 'em. I've been all over,
steeple-chasin', sailorman, soldier, pedler, and in the PO-lice;
I've pulled the Grand National in Paris, and I've been handcuffed
in Hong-Kong; I've seen all the few kinds of women there is on earth
and the many kinds of men. Yer own kind is the one I've seen the
fewest of, but I knew ye belonged to it the first time I laid eyes
on ye!" He paused, then continued with conviction: "Ye'll
come to no good, either, fer yerself, yet no one can say ye haven't
the talents. Ye've helped many of the boys out of a bad hole with
a word of advice around the courts and the jail. Who knows but ye'd
be a great lawyer if ye kept on?"
Young people usually like to discuss themselves under any conditions--hence
the rewards of palmistry,-- but Joe's comment on this harangue was
not so responsive as might have been expected. "I've got seven
dollars," he said, "and I'll leave the clothes I've got
on. Can you fix me up with something different?"
"Aha!" cried the red-bearded man. "Then ye ARE in
trouble! I thought it 'd come to ye some day! Have ye been dinnymitin'
Martin Pike?"
"See what you can do," said Joe. "I want to wait
here until daybreak."
"Lie down, then," interrupted the other. "And fergit
the hullabaloo in the throne-room beyond."
"I can easily do that"--Joe stretched himself upon the
bed,--"I've got so many other things to remember"
"I'll have the things fer ye, and I'll let ye know I have no
use fer seven dollars," returned the red- bearded man, crossly.
"What are ye sniffin' fer?"
"I'm thinking of the poor fellow that got the mate to this,"
said Joe, touching the bandage. "I can't help crying when I
think they may have used vinegar on his head, too."
"Git to sleep if ye can!" exclaimed the Samaritan, as
a hideous burst of noise came from the dance- room, where some one
seemed to be breaking a chair upon an acquaintance. "I'll go
out and regulate the boys a bit." He turned down the lamp,
fumbled in his hip-pocket, and went to the door.
"Don't forget," Joe called after him.
"Go to sleep," said the red-bearded man, his hand on the
door-knob. "That is, go to thinkin', fer ye won't sleep; ye're
not the kind. But think easy; I'll have the things fer ye. It's
a matter of pride with me that I always knew ye'd come to trouble."