Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

14 PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY "Wrastlin's where I come in, all right," boasted Bije. "Jes' for fun, now, friend, le's see if ye can throw me down. Si an' old Hiram — they'll stan' by an 'see fair play.'' "I don't mind," answered Cabot, startled by the suddenness of the proposal, but undismayed. And, as Bije Stork seemed impatient of any delay, the newcomer promptly took off his coat and waistcoat. The bout, refereed, witnessed, and applauded jointly by the other men, was not retarded or hampered by such superficial things as rules or precedents. Bije, grinning hugely, and evidently free from anything like malice, showed himself grimly intent from the start upon getting Cabot in a grizzly-bear hug and eliminating anything like weak sentiment from the contest. The burly mountaineer stamped and kicked, not averse to crushing the feet of his opponent, and his great hands and arms pawed and nailed the air in mighty efforts to beat down, if not to maim, the opposing factors. It was brute force and wild-animal tactics, but Benton Cabot knew in an instant that all his science and wrestling skill would be needed to save him from something more painful than mere defeat. He dodged and ducked, with all the crafty footwork that he knew, evading clinches and seeking shrewdly for a favorable opening. All the laws and traditions of the wrestling mat were thrust aside, and the city man wildly drew upon all the tricks he had learned of ju-jutsu and the rudiments of selfdefense. Bije caught him once and swung him over his hip, but a quick wriggle and a favorite trick of the Japs freed him and set him on his feet once more. Then, as he saw an evil gleam come into the mountaineer's eye, and a resolute stiffening of the huge frame, he stepped in with reckless abandon, caught him with the one hold in the world that would suffice, and bent him swiftly backward, until he was "bowed like a crescent, with his arms and legs as helpless as a child's. Bije writhed and snorted in fierce amazement for a moment ; then he quivered with the tenseness of the muscular strain and breathed hard in physical anguish. With a quick movement of his foot, Cabot threw the other's feet from under him, then thrust him quickly down and held him with his back squarely on the floor. "By jinks! I claim he's down!'' exclaimed Hiram Garrett. "Ye shore aire down, Bije \" agreed Si Stork, grimly and without enthusiasm. Benton Cabot let go his hold and got up, and Bije snorted, shook himself, and blundered slowly to his feet. "All right," he mumbled grudgingly, but without evident resentment, "I can't say as how I wasn't down. Ye're a pretty husky young feller, but 1 'low you won't never put me down ag'in. Ye caught me when I wa'n't watchin' out. "Well, friend,"' he went on, after a moment of moody reflection, "we won't talk no more 'bout wrastlin' ter-day, but ye can go ter work, an' Si will show yer what ter do. We'll fix up a bunk fer you in the house, an' ye can stop here with us fer a spell — if ye do yer work willin' an' proper." Benton Cabot "stopped fer a spell" with the Stork household, and worked hard for a small wage. There was nothing congenial about the situation, but it was, in its way, means to an end. It gave him a chance to accumulate slowly enough money to return to the city when the time was ripe, it made it possible for him to exist, and he had an opportunity to study the barren property that was his patrimony and learn if anything could be done to make it yield a return for labor and time. To Bije Stork, he took an instinctive dislike from the first, and the brother Si occupied no higher place in his estimation. Crishy was always an object of pity — a comparatively young woman, made old and decrepit by grueling labor and abuse — and Cabot never missed an opportunity to give her a kind word or a helping hand. About the whole place there was a vague air of mystery, but whatever mystery there might be, it was well concealed, and the man from the city knew better than to betray the curiosity that he could not banish from his mind. Even the woodshed, where the wrestling bout had taken place, became a place of mystery, for the stranger was forbidden to approach it. On his first day of employment he was attracted to the woodshed by muffled sounds of disorder there, but Bije, red and scowling, met him at the entrance and turned him back. "All right," said Cabot, halting as his employer waved him away from the place. "I was hoeing the turnips, over there, and I heard a noise as though there was some one in distress. I came over " "Better go back ter the turnips," interrupted Bije curtly. "There ain't nothin' goes on in this woodshed that ain't the way I want it to go on, and the best thing you can do, young man, is ter stay outen it altogether, all the time. I'm busy here, an' I don't want no one botherin' of me, so you jes' mind yer eye an' keep away from this shed." Cabot returned to his work, puzzled, but quietly amused ; and he told the story to Emmy Garrett. Emmy, however, failed to appreciate the humor of it, and warned him gravely that he would do well to keep a safe distance from the shed, whatever happened in the future. Emmy was a daily visitor at the cabin, and her acquaintance with the new man developed into something like a cordial enmity. The beautiful, but hoydenish young girl was forever seeking to harass Benton Cabot at his work with pointed gibes and hilarious banter. When his hands were blistered she put it down to unmanly softness, and when his clothes were torn and spotted with red clay she laughed raucously at the picture he made. His retorts were usually ready and keen, but they were often a bit too subtle for her appreciation. Their casual meetings frequently ended in high words, and bitter recriminations on the part of the girl. Bije Stork would stand by on some occasions and wag his head with gleeful relish of Emmy's sallies. It was plain to Cabot that Bije was fond of her in his uncouth way, and had every intention of marrying her, but Emmy was independent and flippant toward every one except Crishy, and the tenderer sentiments had yet to show themselves in her nature. Sometimes in the evening, when the long day's work was done, Cabot would go over to the Garrett cabin and sit on the doorstep with Emmy and her grandfather, and the old man would chuckle sleepily over his pipe as he listened to the younger ones' rapid fire of rough humor and repartee. There was a half-witted lad named Jim Whitlicks in the mountain settle