Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1915-02-12
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ClMBERLANDS
an CHARLES NEVILLE BUCk
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CF SCENES IN THE PLAY @S2r1fHSEsSar s. HSS4r sSaasts11

all there is to art. It's the power II
feel the poetry Of color. The rest car
be taught. The genius must work, OF
course-work, work, work, and still
work, but the gift is the power OF
seeing true-and God, boy, you have
it. You've got what many men have
struggled a lifetime for, and failed
I'd like to have you study with me
I'd like to be your discoverer. Look
here"
The painter sat down, and speedily
went to work. He painted out moth
ing. He simply toned, and. with pre-
cisely the right touch here and there
softened the crudeness, laid stress on
the contract, melted the harshness.
and, when he rose. he had built, upon
the rough cornerstone of Samson's
laying. picture.
THAT proves It," he said. Il had
only to finish. I didn't have much to
undo. Boy, you're wasting yourself.
Come with me, and let me make you.
We all pretend there is no such thing
in these days, as sheer genius; but,
deep down, we know that, unless there
is, there can be no such thing as true
art. There is genius and you nave
it." Enthusiasm was again sweeping
him into an unintended outburst.
The boy stood silent. Across his
countenance swept a conflict Of emo
tions. He looked away, as II taking
council with the hills.
"It's what I'm a-honon' fer" he ad-
mitted at last. Hits what I'd give
half my life fer. mout sell
my land, an raise the money. .
1 reckon hit would take passels OF
money, would't hit?" He paused, and
his eyes fell on the rifle leaning a.
gainst the tree. His lips frightened In
sudden remembrance. He went over
and picked up the gun, and, as he did
so, he shook his head.
No." he stolidly declared; "every
man to his own tools. This here's
mine."
Yet, when they were again out
sketching, the temptation to play with
brushes once more seized him, and he
took his place before the easel.
Neither he nor Lescott noticed man
who crept down through the timber,
and for a time watched them. The
mans face wore a surly, contemptuous
grin, and shortly it withdrew.
But, an hour later, while the boy
was still working industriously and
the artist was lying on his back, with
a pipe between his teeth, and his half
closed eyes gazing up contentedly
through the green overhead
branches, their peace was broken by
guffaw Of derisive laughter. They
looked up, to find at their backs
semicircle Of scoffing humanity. Les
colts impulse was to laugh, for only
the comedy Of the situation at the mo-
ment struck him. A stage director,
setting a comedy scene with that most
ancient of jests. the gawking Of boobs
at some new sight, could hardly have
improved on this tableau. At the front
stood Tamarack Spicer, the returned
wanderer. His lean wrist was stretched
out of ragged sleeve all too short, and
his tattered Jimmy" was showed back
over a face all a-grin. His eyes were
blood-shot with recent drinking. but
his manner was in exaggerated and
cumbersome imitation Of rural mas
ter of ceremonies. At his back were
the raw-boned men and women and
children Of the hills, to the number OF
a dozen.
Ladies and gentlemen" announced
Tamarack Spicer, in a hiccoughing
voice, Swing yo' partners an sashay
forward. See the only son Of the late
Henry South engaged in his mar-ve-
lous an heretofore undiscovered occu-
patton of doin' fancy work. Ladies and
gentlemen, after this here show Is
concluded, keep your seats for the con-
cert in the main tent. This here fa-
nous performer will favor ye with
little exhibition of plain an fancy
sock darnin'."
After the first surprise Samson had
turned his back to the group. He was
mixing paint at the time and he pro-
ceeded to experiment with a feeting
cloud effect, which would not outlast
the moment. He finished that, and,
reaching for the palette-knife, scrap
ed his fingers and wiped them on his
trousers legs. Then, he deliberately
rose.
Without a word he turned. Tama-
rack had began his harangue afresh.
The boy tossed back his long lock
from his forehead. and then. with
an unexpectedly swift movement,
crouched and leaped. His right fist
shot toward to Tamarack Spicer's
chattering lips. and they abruptly
ceased to chatter as the teeth were
driven into the flesh. Spicer's. head
snapped back, and he staggered a
gainst the onlookers, where ne stood
rocking on his unsteady legs. His hand
swept instinctively to the shirt con-
cealed holster, but, before it had con-
nected, both of Samson's fists were
playing a terrific tattoo on his face.
The inglorious master of the show
dropped, and lay groggily trying to
rise.
The laughter died as suddenly as
Tamarack's speech. Samson stepped
back again, and searched the faces Of
the group for any lingering sign Of
mirth or criticism. There was none.
Every countenance was sober and ex-
pressionless, but the boy felt weight
OF unuttered disapproval, and he glar-
ell defiance. One or two older onlook-
ers spoke up reproachfully.
Samson, We hadn't hardly ought ter
a-done that He was jest funnin'
with ye."
Git him up on his feet I've got
somethin' ter say ter him." The boys
voice was dangerously quiet. 1t was