It was the tournament that, at last, loosed Mammy's tongue. She was savage in her denunciation of Chad to Mrs. Dean--so savage and in such plain language that her mistress checked her sharply, but not before Margaret had heard, though the little girl, with an awed face, slipped quietly out of the room into the yard, while Harry stood in the doorway, troubled and silent.
"Don't let me hear you speak that way again Mammy," said Mrs. Dean, so sternly that the old woman swept out of the room in high dudgeon And yet she told her husband of Mammy's charge;"I am rather surprised at Major Buford."
"Perhaps he doesn't know," said the General. "Perhaps it isn't true.""Nobody knows anything about the boy."
"Well, I cannot have my children associating with a waif.""He seems like a nice boy."
"He uses extraordinary language. I cannot have him teaching my children mischief. Why I believe Margaret is really fond of him. I know Harry and Dan are." The General looked thoughtful.
"I will speak to Major Buford about him," he said, and he did--no little to that gentleman's confusion--though he defended Chad staunchly--and the two friends parted with some heat.
Thereafter, the world changed for Chad, for if there any older and truer story than that Evil has wings, while Good goes a plodding way? Chad felt the change, in the negroes, in the sneering overseer, and could not understand.
The rumor reached Miss Lucy's ears and she and the Major had a spirited discussion that rather staggered Chad's kind-hearted companion. It reached the school, and a black-haired youngster, named Georgie Forbes, who had long been one of Margaret's abject slaves, and who hated Chad, brought out the terrible charge in the presence of a dozen school-children at noon-recess one day. It had been no insult in the mountains, but Chad, dazed though he was, knew it was meant for an insult, and his hard fist shot out promptly, landing in his enemy's chin and bringing him bawling to the earth. Others gave out the cry then, and the boy fought right and left like a demon. Dan stood sullenly near, taking no part, and Harry, while he stopped the unequal fight, turned away from Chad coldly, calling Margaret, who had run up toward them, away at the same time, and Chad's three friends turned from him then and there, while the boy, forgetting all else, stood watching them with dumb wonder and pain. The school-bell clanged, but Chad stood still--with his heart well neigh breaking In a few minutes the last pupil had disappeared through the school-room door, and Chad stood under a great elm--alone. But only a moment, for he turned quickly away, the tears starting to his eyes, walked rapidly through the woods, climbed the worm fence beyond, and dropped, sobbing, in the thick bluegrass.
An hour later he was walking swiftly through the fields toward the old brick house that had sheltered him. He was very quiet at supper that night, and after Miss Lucy had gone to bed and he and the Major were seated before the fire, he was so quiet that the Major looked at him anxiously.
"What's the matter Chad? Are you sick?"
"Nothin'--no, sir."
But the Major was uneasy, and when he rose to go to bed, he went over and put his hand on the boy's head.
"Chad," he said, "if you hear of people saying mean things about you, you mustn't pay any attention to them.""No, sir."
"You're a good boy, and I want you to live here with me. Good-night, Chad," he added, affectionately. Chad nearly broke down, but he steadied himself.
"Good-by, Major," he said, brokenly. "I'm obleeged to you.""Good-by?" repeated the Major. "Why?"
"Good-night, I mean," stammered Chad.
The Major stood inside his own door, listening to the boy's slow steps up the second flight. "I'm gettin' to love that boy," he said, wonderingly-- "An' I'm damned if people who talk about him don't have me to reckon with"--and the Major shook his head from side to side. Several times he thought he could hear the boy moving around in the room above him, and while he was wondering why the lad did not go to bed, he fell asleep.
Chad was moving around. First, by the light of a candle, he laboriously dug out a short letter to the Major--scalding it with tears. Then he took off his clothes and got his old mountain-suit out of the closet--moccasins and all--and put them on. Very carefully he folded the pretty clothes he had taken off--just as Miss Lucy had taught him--and laid them on the bed. Then he picked up his old rifle in one hand and his old coonskin cap in the other, blew out the candle, slipped noiselessly down the stairs in his moccasined feet, out the unbolted door and into the starlit night. From the pike fence he turned once to look back to the dark, silent house amid the dark trees. Then he sprang down and started through the fields--his face set toward the mountains.
It so happened that mischance led General Dean to go over to see Major Buford about Chad next morning. The Major listened patiently--or tried ineffectively to listen--and when the General was through, he burst out with a vehemence that shocked and amazed his old friend.
"Damn those niggers!" he cried, in a tone that seemed to include the General in his condemnation, "that boy is the best boy I ever knew. I believe he is my own blood, he looks a little like that picture there"--pointing to the old portrait--"and if he is what I believe he is, by --, sir, he gets this farm and all I have. Do you understand that?""I believe he told you what he was."
"He did--but I don't believe he knows, and, anyhow, whatever he is, he shall have a home under this roof as long as he lives."The General rose suddenly--stiffly.
"He must never darken my door again."
"Very well." The Major made a gesture which plainly said, "In that event, you are darkening mine too long," and the General rose, slowly descended the steps of the portico, and turned:
"Do you really mean, that you are going to let a little brat that you picked up in the road only yesterday stand between you and me?"The Major softened.
