The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1885-06-17
BORROWING A HAMMER
BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDoCK.

On certain bold crag that juts far
over the steep wooded slopes Of Cross
mountain red light was seen one
moonless night in June. Sometimes it
glowed intensely among the gray mlsts
which hovcrcd above the deep and SON.
bre valley; sometimes it faded. It's life
was the breath Of the bellows, for a
blacksmith's shop stands close beside tine
road that ramblcs along the brink of the
mountain.
Generally after sunset the forge is dark
and silent. So when three small boys,
approaching the log hut through the
gloomy woods, heard the clink! clank
clink! c!ank. of the hammers, and the
metallic echo among the cliffs, they
stopped short in astonishment.
"i'har now!" exclaimed Abner Ryder,
desperately: dads at it fur true!''
"AIcbbc he'll 20 away artcr while,
Ab," suggested Jim Grycc, another of
the small boys. Then that'll gin lis
our chance"
"Waal, reckon we can stiffcn MP our
hearts ter watt" said Alb, rcsignedly.
All three sat down on q log q short
distance above the shop, and presently
they became so engrossed in their talk
that they did not notice when the black
smith in the pauscs of his work, came
to the door for q breath of air. They
failed to discrectly lower their voices,
and thus they had listener on whose
attention they had not counted.
aye sec," observed Alb, in high,
shrill pipe, dad sets heap O. store by
his tools. But dad, ye know, air a
mighty slack-twisted man. He gifts his
tools lost, an (reprchcnsively) he wastes
his nails. An then he lows how ez it
war me ez done it,"
He paused impressively in virtuous in.
dignation. A murmur of surprise and
sympathy rose from his companions.
Then he recommended.
dad air the crankest man on Cross
Mounting! He won't lend me none O
his tools nowadays even that little
hammer o. his'n. An I'm obleeged ter
hev that thar little hammer an some
nails ter fix box fur them young squir'ls
what we cotched. So we'll jes' hcv ter
20 ter his shop of night when be is
away, an'-an'- on borry it!'
The blacksmith, tall, powerfully
built man, and of an aspect far from
jocular, leaned slightly out of the door.
pcering in the direction where the three
tow headed urchins sat on the log. Then
he glanced within at leather strap, as
if he appreciated the appropriateness of
an intimate relation between these OBJ.
jects.
But there was no time for pleasure
now. He was back in his shop in mo-
ment.
His next respite was thus entertained.
"What makes him work SO of a
night?" asked jim Gryce.
"Waal," explained Alb, i'll his usual
high key, che rid ter the scttlemlnt this
mornin'; he hcv been foolin' round
thar all day, an the crap air jes' q suf-
ferin' fur work! So him an Uncle
air layin' thar plows in the shop now,
kase they air goin' ter run around the
corn ter.morrcr. Workln', though,
goes powerful hard with dad emmy time.
tole old Bob Peachin that when I war
ter mill this evenin'. Him an the t'othcr
men thar laffed nightly at dad. An l
LATED to-"
There was an angry gleam in Stephen
Ryder's stern black eyes us he turned
within, seized the tongs and thrust a
piece of iron among the Goals, while Tobe,
who had been asleep in the window at
the back of the shop, rose reluctantly and
piled the bellows. The heavy painting
broke forth simultaneously with the red
flare that quivered out into the dark
night. Presently it faded; the hot iron
was whiskcd upon the anvil, fiery sparks
showercd about as the rapid blows fell,
and the cchoing crags kept time with
rhythmic beats to the clanking of the
slcdge and the clinking of the hand
hammer. The stars. high above the far
stretching Cumberland mountains,
seemed to throb in unison until suddenly
the blacksmith dealt sharp blow on the
face of the anvil as signal to his
"striker," and tho forge was silent.
AS he leaned against the jam OF the
door, mechanically adjusting his leather
apron, he heard Abs voice again.
"Old Bob say he aint no count
sca'ccly. He lowed cz he he'd knowcd
him many a year, an fund him sneak
in, dcccivin' crittcr.
The blacksmith was erect in a mo.
ment, every fiber tense.
That aint the wust," Alb gabblcd on.
"Old Bob say, thought 'taint known
ginerally, ez he air gin ter thicvin'. Old
Bob lowed ter them men, hangin' round
tie mill, ez he air the biggest thief on
Cross Mounting.'
The strong man trcmblcd. His blood
rushed tumultuously to his head, then
seemed to cbb swiftly away. That this
should be said of him TO the loafers at
the mill! These constituted his little
world. And he valued his character
as only an honest man can.
lie YVES amazed at the boldncss of this
lie. 1t had been openly spoken in the
prcsencc of his son. One might have
thought the boy would come directly to
him. But there he sat. glibly retailing
it to his small comrades! 1t seemed all
80 strange, that Stephen Ryder fancied
there was surely some mistake. In the
next moment, however, he was con-
vinccd that they had been talking of
him, and of no one else.
Z tolc old Bob ez how I thought they
oughtn't to be so hard on him, ez he
want there to speak fur hisself." .
All three boys giggled weakly, as II
this were witty.
"But old Bob lowed cz cnnybody
mought know him by his name. An
then he told me that old sayin'-
"'Stephen. Stephen, so deceivin',
That Old Satan can't believe him" "
Here Ben Gryce broke in, begging the
others to 60 home, and come to "borry''
the hammer the next night. Alb agreed
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