The Wit and Humor of America Volume I Part 20
Wes had a way o' jest natchurly a-cleanin' out anybody and ever'body 'at 'ud he'p hold up a checker-board! Wes wuzn't what you'd call a _lively_ player at all, ner a compet.i.ter 'at talked much 'crost the board er made much furse over a game whilse he _wuz_ a-playin'. He had his faults, o'
course, and _would_ take back moves 'casion'ly, er inch up on you ef you didn't watch him, mebby. But, _as a rule_, Wes had the insight to grasp the idy of whoever wuz a-playin' ag'in' him, and _his_ style o' game, you understand, and wuz on the lookout continual'; and under sich circ.u.mstances _could_ play as _honest_ a game o' Checkers as the babe unborn.
One thing in _Wes's_ favor allus wuz the feller's temper.--Nothin'
'peared to aggervate Wes, and nothin' on earth could break his slow and lazy way o' takin' his own time fer ever'thing. You jest _couldn't crowd Wes_ er git him rattled anyway.--Jest 'peared to have one fixed principle, and that wuz to take plenty o' time, and never make no move 'ithout a-ciphern'n' ahead on the prob'ble consequences, don't you understand! "Be sh.o.r.e you're right," Wes 'ud say, a-lettin' up fer a second on that low and sorry-like little wind-through-the-keyhole whistle o' his, and a-nosin' out a place whur he could swap one man fer two.--"Be sh.o.r.e you're right"--and somep'n' after this style wuz Wes's way: "Be sh.o.r.e you're right"--(whistling a long, lonesome bar of "Barbara Allen")--"and then"--(another long, r.e.t.a.r.ded bar)--"go ahead!"--and by the time the feller 'ud git through with his whistlin', and a-stoppin' and a-startin' in ag'in, he'd be about three men ahead to your one. And then he'd jest go on with his whistlin' 'sef nothin'
had happened, and mebby you a-jest a-rearin' and a-callin' him all the mean, outlandish, ornry names 'at you could lay tongue to.
But Wes's good nature, I reckon, was the thing 'at he'ped him out as much as any other p'ints the feller had. And _Wes 'ud allus win, in the long run_!--I don't keer _who_ played ag'inst him! It was on'y a question o' time with Wes o' waxin' it to the best of 'em. Lots o'
players has _tackled_ Wes, and right at the _start_ 'ud mebby give him trouble,--but in the _long run_, now mind ye--_in the long run_, no mortal man, I reckon, had any business o' rubbin' knees with Wes Cotterl under no airthly checker-board in all this vale o' tears!
I mind onc't th' come along a high-toned feller from in around In'i'nop'lus somers.--Wuz a _lawyer_, er some _p'fessional_ kind o' man.
Had a big yaller, luther-kivvered book under his arm, and a bunch o'
these-'ere big en_vel_op's and a lot o' suppeenies stickin' out o' his breastpocket. Mighty slick-lookin' feller he wuz; wore a stovepipe hat, sorto' set 'way back on his head--so's to show off his Giner'l Jackson forr'ed, don't you know! Well-sir, this feller struck the place, on some business er other, and then missed the hack 'at _ort_ to 'a' tuk him out o' here sooner'n it _did_ take him out!--And whilse he wuz a-loafin'
round, sorto' lonesome--like a feller allus _is_ in a strange place, you know--he kindo' drapped in on our crowd at the Shoe-Shop, ostenchably to git a boot-strop st.i.tched on, but _I_ knowed, the minute he set foot in the door, 'at _that_ feller wanted _comp'ny_ wuss'n _cobblin'_.
Well, as good luck would have it, there set Wes, as usual, with the checker-board in his lap, a-playin' all by hisse'f, and a-whistlin' so low and solem'-like and sad it railly made the crowd seem like a _religious_ getherun' o' some kind er other, we wuz all so quiet and still-like, as the man come in.
Well, the stranger stated his business, set down, tuk off his boot, and set there nussin' his foot and talkin' weather fer ten minutes, I reckon, 'fore he ever 'peared to notice Wes at all. We wuz all back'ard, anyhow, 'bout talkin' much; besides, we knowed, long afore he come in, all about how hot the weather wuz, and the pore chance there wuz o'
rain, and all that; and so the subject had purty well died out, when jest then the feller's eyes struck Wes and the checker-board,--and I'll never fergit the warm, salvation smile 'at flashed over him at the promisin' discovery. "_What!_" says he, a-grinnin' like a' angel and a-edgin' his cheer to'rds Wes, "have we a checker-board and checkers here?"
"We hev," says I, knowin' 'at Wes wouldn't let go o' that whistle long enough to answer--more'n to mebby nod his head.
"And who is your best player?" says the feller, kindo' pitiful-like, with another inquirin' look at Wes.
"Him," says I, a-pokin' Wes with a peg-float. But Wes on'y spit kindo'
absent-like, and went on with his whistlin'.
"Much of a player, is he?" says the feller, with a sorto' doubtful smile at Wes ag'in.
"Plays a purty good hick'ry," says I, a-pokin' Wes ag'in. "Wes," says I, "here's a gentleman 'at 'ud mebby like to take a hand with you there, and give you a few idys," says I.
"Yes," says the stranger, eager-like, a-settin' his plug-hat keerful' up in the empty shelvin', and a-rubbin' his hands and smilin' as confident-like as old Hoyle hisse'f,--"Yes, indeed, I'd be glad to give the gentleman" (meanin' Wes) "a' idy er two about Checkers--ef _he'd_ jest as lief,--'cause I reckon ef there're any one thing 'at I _do_ know more about 'an another, it's Checkers," says he; "and there're no game 'at delights me more--_pervidin'_, o' course, I find a compet.i.ter 'at kin make it anyways inte_rest_in'."
"Got much of a rickord on Checkers?" says I.
"Well," says the feller, "I don't like to brag, but I've never _ben_ beat--in any _legitimut_ contest," says he, "and I've played more'n one o' _them_," he says, "here and there round the country. Of course, _your friend_ here," he went on, smilin' sociable at Wes, "_he'll_ take it all in good part ef I should happen to lead him a little--jest as _I'd_ do,"
he says, "ef it wuz possible fer him to lead _me_."
"_Wes_," says I, "_has_ warmed the wax in the yeers of some mighty good checker-players," says I, as he squared the board around, still a-whistlin' to hisse'f-like, as the stranger tuk his place, a-smilin'-like and roachin' back his hair.
"Move," says Wes.
"No," says the feller, with a polite flourish of his hand; "the first move shall be your'n." And, by jucks! fer all he wouldn't take even the advantage of a starter, he flaxed it to Wes the fust game in less'n fifteen minutes.
"Right sh.o.r.e you've give' me your best player?" he says, smilin' round at the crowd, as Wes set squarin' the board fer another game and whistlin' as onconcerned-like as ef nothin' had happened more'n ordinary.
"'S your move," says Wes, a-squintin' out into the game 'bout forty foot from sh.o.r.e, and a-whistlin' purt' nigh in a whisper.
Well-sir, it 'peared-like the feller railly didn't _try_ to play; and you could see, too, 'at Wes knowed he'd about met his match, and played accordin'. He didn't make no move at all 'at he didn't give keerful thought to; whilse the feller--! well, as I wuz sayin', it jest 'peared-like _Checkers_ wuz _child's-play_ fer him! Putt in most o' the time 'long through the game a-sayin' things calkilated to kindo' bore a'
ordinary man. But Wes helt hisse'f purty level, and didn't show no signs, and kep' up his _whistlin'_, mighty well--considerin'.
"Reckon you play the _fiddle_, too, as well as _Checkers_?" says the feller, laughin', as Wes come a-whistlin' out of the little end of the second game and went on a-fixin' fer the next round.
"'S my move!" says Wes, 'thout seemin' to notice the feller's tantalizin' words whatsomever.
"'L! _this_ time," thinks I, "Mr. Smarty from the _me_trolopin deestricts, _you're_ liable to git _waxed_--_sh.o.r.e_!" But the _feller_ didn't 'pear to think so at all, and played right ahead as glib-like and keerless as ever--'casion'ly a-throwin' in them sircastic remarks o'
his'n,--'bout bein' "slow and sh.o.r.e" 'bout things in gineral--"Liked to _see_ that," he said:--"Liked to see fellers do things with plenty o'
_deliberation_, and even ef a feller _wuzn't_ much of a checker-player, liked to see him _die_ slow _anyhow_!--and then 'tend his own funeral,"
he says,--"and march in the p'session--to his own _music_," says he.--And jest then his remarks wuz brung to a close by Wes a-jumpin' two men, and a-lightin' square in the king-row.... "Crown that," says Wes, a-droppin' back into his old tune. And fer the rest o' _that_ game Wes helt the feller purty level, but had to finally knock under--but by jest the clos'test kind o' shave o' winnin'.
"They ain't much use," says the feller, "o' keepin' _this_ thing up--'less I could manage, _some_ way er other, to git beat _onc't 'n a while_!"
"Move," says Wes, a-drappin' back into the same old whistle and a-_settlin'_ there.
"'Music has charms,' as the Good Book tells us," says the feller, kindo'
nervous-like, and a-roachin' his hair back as ef some sort o' p'tracted headache wuz a-settin' in.
"Never wuz '_skunked_,' wuz ye?" says Wes, kindo' suddent-like, with a fur-off look in them big white eyes o' his--and then a-whistlin' right on 'sef he hadn't said _nothin'_.
"_Not much!_" says the feller, sorto' s'prised-like, as ef such a' idy as that had never struck him afore.--"Never was 'skunked' _myse'f_: but I've saw fellers in my time 'at _wuz_!" says he.
But from that time on I noticed the feller 'peared to play more keerful, and railly la'nched into the game with somepin' like inter'st. Wes he seemed to be jest a-limber-in'-up-like; and-sir, blame me! ef he didn't walk the feller's log fer him _that_ time, 'thout no 'pearent trouble at all!
"And, _now_," says Wes, all quiet-like, a-squarin' the board fer another'n,--"we're kindo' gittin' at things _right_. Move." And away went that little unconcerned whistle o' his ag'in, and _Mr. Cityman_ jest gittin' white and sweaty too--he wuz so nervous. Ner he didn't 'pear to find much to laugh at in the _next_ game--ner the next _two_ games nuther! Things wuz a-gettin' mighty inte_rest_in' 'bout them times, and I guess the feller wuz ser'ous-like a-wakin' up to the solem'
fact 'at it tuk 'bout all _his_ spare time to keep up his end o' the row, and even that state o' pore satisfaction wuz a-creepin' furder and furder away from him ever' new turn he undertook. Whilse _Wes_ jest peared to git more deliber't' and certain ever' game; and that unendin'
se'f-satisfied and comfortin' little whistle o' his never drapped a st.i.tch, but toed out ever' game alike,--to'rds the _last_, and, fer the _most_ part, disasterss to the feller 'at had started in with sich confi_dence_ and actchul promise, don't you know.
Well-sir, the feller stuck the whole _forenoon_ out, and then the _afternoon_; and then knuckled down to it 'way into the night--yes, and plum _midnight_!--And he buckled into the thing bright and airly _next morning_! And-sir, fer _two long days_ and nights, a-hardly a-stoppin'
long enough to _eat_, the feller stuck it out,--and Wes a-jest a-warpin'
it to him hand-over-fist, and leavin' him furder behind, ever'
game!--till finally, to'rds the last, the feller got so blamedon worked up and excited-like, he jes' 'peared actchully purt' nigh plum crazy and histurical as a woman!
It was a-gittin' late into the shank of the second day, and the boys hed jest lit a candle fer 'em to finish out one of the clost'est games the feller'd played Wes fer some time. But Wes wuz jest as cool and ca'm as ever, and still a-whistlin' consolin' to hisse'f-like, whilse the feller jest 'peared wore out and ready to drap right in his tracks any minute.
"_Durn you!_" he snarled out at Wes, "hain't you never goern to move?"
And there set Wes, a-balancin' a checker-man above the board, a-studyin'
whur to set it, and a-fillin' in the time with that-air whistle.
"_Flames and flashes!_" says the feller ag'in, "will you _ever_ stop that death-seducin' tune o' your'n long enough to move?"--And as Wes deliber't'ly set his man down whur the feller see he'd haf to jump it and lose two men and a king, Wes wuz a-singin', low and sad-like, as ef all to hisse'f:
"O we'll move that man, and leave him there.-- Fer the love of B-a-r-b--bry Al-len!"
Well-sir! the feller jest jumped to his feet, upset the board, and tore out o' the shop stark-starin' crazy--blame ef he wuzn't!--'cause some of us putt out after him and overtook him 'way beyent the 'pike-bridge, and hollered to him;--and he shuk his fist at us and hollered back and says, says he: "Ef you fellers over here," says he, "'ll agree to _muzzle_ that durn checker-player o' your'n, I'll bet fifteen hunderd dollars to fifteen cents 'at I kin beat him 'leven games out of ever'
dozent!--But there're _no money_," he says, "'at kin hire me to play him ag'in, on this aboundin' airth, on'y on them conditions--'cause that durn, eternal, infernal, dad-blasted whistle o' his 'ud beat the oldest man in Ameriky!"
DARBY AND JOAN