invariably his victim would elude his toils and then he would show a
disappointment that was almost pathetic. The landlord, Johnson, was a
meek, well-meaning fellow, and Arkansas fastened on him early, as a
promising subject, and gave him no rest day or night, for awhile. On the
fourth morning, Arkansas got drunk and sat himself down to wait for an
opportunity. Presently Johnson came in, just comfortably sociable with
whisky, and said:
“I reckon the Pennsylvania ‘lection–”
Arkansas raised his finger impressively and Johnson stopped. Arkansas
rose unsteadily and confronted him. Said he:
“Wha-what do you know a–about Pennsylvania? Answer me that. Wha–what
do you know ’bout Pennsylvania?”
“I was only goin’ to say–”
“You was only goin’ to say. You was! You was only goin’ to say–what
was you goin’ to say? That’s it! That’s what I want to know. I want to
know wha–what you (‘ic) what you know about Pennsylvania, since you’re
makin’ yourself so d—d free. Answer me that!”
“Mr. Arkansas, if you’d only let me–”
“Who’s a henderin’ you? Don’t you insinuate nothing agin me!–don’t you
do it. Don’t you come in here bullyin’ around, and cussin’ and goin’ on
like a lunatic–don’t you do it. ‘Coz I won’t stand it. If fight’s what
you want, out with it! I’m your man! Out with it!”
Said Johnson, backing into a corner, Arkansas following, menacingly:
“Why, I never said nothing, Mr. Arkansas. You don’t give a man no
chance. I was only goin’ to say that Pennsylvania was goin’ to have an
election next week–that was all–that was everything I was goin’ to say
–I wish I may never stir if it wasn’t.”
“Well then why d’n’t you say it? What did you come swellin’ around that
way for, and tryin’ to raise trouble?”
“Why I didn’t come swellin’ around, Mr. Arkansas–I just–”
“I’m a liar am I! Ger-reat Caesar’s ghost–”
“Oh, please, Mr. Arkansas, I never meant such a thing as that, I wish I
may die if I did. All the boys will tell you that I’ve always spoke well
of you, and respected you more’n any man in the house. Ask Smith. Ain’t
it so, Smith? Didn’t I say, no longer ago than last night, that for a
man that was a gentleman all the time and every way you took him, give me
Arkansas? I’ll leave it to any gentleman here if them warn’t the very
words I used. Come, now, Mr. Arkansas, le’s take a drink–le’s shake
hands and take a drink. Come up–everybody! It’s my treat. Come up,
Bill, Tom, Bob, Scotty–come up. I want you all to take a drink with me
and Arkansas–old Arkansas, I call him–bully old Arkansas. Gimme your
hand agin. Look at him, boys–just take a look at him. Thar stands the
whitest man in America!–and the man that denies it has got to fight me,
that’s all. Gimme that old flipper agin!”
They embraced, with drunken affection on the landlord’s part and
unresponsive toleration on the part of Arkansas, who, bribed by a drink,
was disappointed of his prey once more. But the foolish landlord was so
happy to have escaped butchery, that he went on talking when he ought to
have marched himself out of danger. The consequence was that Arkansas
shortly began to glower upon him dangerously, and presently said:
“Lan’lord, will you p-please make that remark over agin if you please?”
“I was a-sayin’ to Scotty that my father was up’ards of eighty year old
when he died.”
“Was that all that you said?”
“Yes, that was all.”
“Didn’t say nothing but that?”
“No–nothing.”
Then an uncomfortable silence.
Arkansas played with his glass a moment, lolling on his elbows on the
counter. Then he meditatively scratched his left shin with his right
boot, while the awkward silence continued. But presently he loafed away
toward the stove, looking dissatisfied; roughly shouldered two or three
men out of a comfortable position; occupied it himself, gave a sleeping
dog a kick that sent him howling under a bench, then spread his long legs
and his blanket-coat tails apart and proceeded to warm his back. In a
little while he fell to grumbling to himself, and soon he slouched back