<h2><SPAN name="chapter29" id="chapter29"></SPAN><abbr title="Twenty-Nine">XXIX</abbr><br/> LIBERTY AND NEW LIFE</h2>
<h3>Friday.</h3>
<p>At daybreak this morning, heavy detonations began to rend the air, and
we knew that the road-blasting had begun. It was almost impossible to
get the cottage cleaned,—the boys, especially Nucky, hung out of
windows and doors, eagerly watching the puffs of smoke down the road,
and listening for the loud reports. As we went over to breakfast, we
could see Blant and the others at work. I noticed that Nucky ate not a
bite, and was very pale,—I hoped that he was at last realizing it was
his last day with me, and was feeling some of the pain I felt in the
separation. We were all pouring out of the dining-room after the meal,
when several sharp, near-by gun-shots, following a particularly loud
blast of powder, sent all flying to the front. Up the steep mountain
side facing the school a man was leaping, while down in the road below
ran another, stopping only to aim and fire.</p>
<p>"It's Blant!" called out a score of voices; "he's got away! Go it,
Blant,—run, oh, run!"</p>
<p>It was indeed Blant, making desperate speed up the steep slope. The
mountain is cleared halfway, not a rock or a tree affording shelter;
above that is the timber-line. All the school was by this time at the
fence, breathlessly watching the breathless ascent. The keeper,
selecting a vantage-ground just outside the school gate, took his stand
and grimly proceeded to do his "whole duty," firing swiftly, calmly,
surely, at the flying figure. In running accompaniment to the gun-shots,
Nucky's voice rang out sharp and clear. "Keep to the right a
little-grain!" "Drap down in the swag there, so's he can't hit you so
easy!" "Make for them spruce-pines! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" Bullets
raised tiny clouds of dust about Blant's feet, and on the slope just
ahead of him; the seconds seemed ages; our hearts stood still. Once he
stopped short, clutching his left arm; then ran on again, more swiftly
than ever, his arm dangling strangely. Nucky's voice, edged with agony,
faltered no more than did the bullets. "Can't you move no quicker'n
that? Seems like I could crawl faster! Once you reach the timber, he'll
never hit you! Oh, hurry! hurry! hurry! You're getting nigh now. The
trees! the trees! the trees! Oh God, he's to 'em,—he's safe!"</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="image24" id="image24"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/image24.png"> <ANTIMG src="images/image24th.png" width-obs="202" height-obs="306" alt="The keeper is firing a rifle at Blant who is running. Nucky is on top of a fense, calling out directions to Blant. Four other boys are watching." title="Nucky's voice rang out sharp and clear ... 'Make for them spruce pines! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!'" /></SPAN> <q class="caption">Nucky's voice rang out sharp and clear ... 'Make for them spruce pines! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!'</q></div>
<p>And, indeed, he was. After a few parting shots into the timber, the
keeper shook his head, mopped the sweat from his brow, shouldered his
gun and turned to the other prisoners, who had followed him down the
road, and to the rest of us.</p>
<p>"Well," he said, "I done my best, as my oath required, though sore
again' my will. But he had too good a start. It certainly was pyeert of
him to get on the far side from me before that big blast went off; and
it tuck me plumb by surprise. Of course I looked for him to try to
escape at the first; but after he refused to use his gun to get away, I
give up the notion, though I mind now he said plain he wa'n't willing to
go to Frankfort. Well, I never done a more painful thing than try to
kill him as he run for his life,—if he was my own brother I couldn't
have felt worse—but public servants is called on to do mighty onnatural
and disagreeable things sometimes. And now that I tried my best and
failed, I am free to say I'm glad none of them bullets never hit no
vital, and that it was his arm, not his heart, I put out of business.</p>
<p>"Yes, I consider that 'ere Blant as perfect a gentleman as ever I seed;
and I think it was a mighty sensible thing of him not to stay and stand
trial and go to Frankfort. Why, Frankfort is intended for criminals, and
God knows that boy haint got a criminal bone in him, and never did have.
Of course his mistake was in ever givin' himself up when he kilt Rich
and Todd,—that was the dad-burn foolishest thing ever I heared of, and
come nigh being his ruination, and that of his family.</p>
<p>"Well, I reckon he's making tracks for home and the babe now—God grant
the pore little creetur'll live till he gits there—and I expect he will
rest pretty oneasy for a few days, allowing me and the sheriff will be
low-down enough to hunt him. Which knowing the law like we do, we haint
got the least notion of,—one of the very pillars of the criminal law is
that no man's life shall be twice in jeopardy for the same offense; and
certainly Blant's life couldn't be worse jeoparded than it was by my gun
this hour; and being as the law is satisfied, I am, and I may
confidently say the sheriff will be. Yes, I allow that by next week
Blant will be out in perfect peace, putting in his crap. I hate to think
of his feelings over seeing his land in Cheever possession; but I'll lay
my life he'll stand to his word not to shoot another shot, and that the
Marrs-Cheever war is over."</p>
<p>When I turned around a little later, Nucky, who had been at my side, was
gone,—doubtless to see Blant safely home, and to take him the word of
his immunity from capture.</p>
<h3>Saturday, Bed-time.</h3>
<p>To-night Nucky came back, more radiant and happy than I have ever seen
him, to be greeted by the unanimous question, "How long has Blant been
aiming to escape?"</p>
<p>"Ever sence he heared he would be sent to Frankfort,—he never had no
notion of going there. He has knowed all along the prisoners was going
to work the road, and fixed on that as his best chance to get away. If
he'd a-told me sooner, I'd have felt better,—but he never did till
last Sunday. Then I felt happy again, though of course I was afeared
Joe's gun might stop him.</p>
<p>"But now he's home, and the babe's nigh dead with happiness, but aiming
to live when she gits used to it, and paw is all holp up in his spirits,
and the young uns has got their minds and stomachs comforted, and a big
crap's a-going in immediate, and everything's all right."</p>
<p>There was silence for quite a while; then Taulbee inquired, in a low
voice, as one may speak of the dead,</p>
<p>"Has the Cheevers got the bottom?"</p>
<p>A wave of color surged over Nucky's face, and then receded, leaving him
deathly pale.</p>
<p>"Yes, they got it," he answered slowly, painfully, at last; "Blant sent
'em word he give it to 'em, and wisht he could give 'em back the lives
he tuck, too."</p>
<p>Another deep silence followed; then there was a still more searching
question:</p>
<p>"Do you aim to let 'em keep it when you git grown?"</p>
<p>Nucky closed his eyes; his face was sharp and tense with the inward
struggle; his breath came with difficulty. It was a long time before he
spoke; then,</p>
<p>"I allow I'll be the same kind of a hero Blant is," he replied.</p>
<h3>Easter Sunday.</h3>
<p>It is the season of new life. To-day the brown mountain sides are
suddenly clothed with innumerable tender shades of green, and against
them the exquisite "sarvice" tree, incomparable symbol of spiritual
renascence, stands forth in unearthly beauty. It speaks to me not only
of the awakening of Blant and Nucky to higher things, and of the coming
day when from all hearts shall be cast out the "dread brood of Chaos and
Old Night," pride, hatred and warfare, but of my own wonderful
resurrection from grief, despair and selfishness to life and love and
service. Now that I have Nucky back again, my joy is perfect, my cup
overflows. To-day I have written my agent to accept one of the offers I
have had for the old home,—the proceeds shall be used for sending my
boys to college when the time comes. Henceforth my home is here,—here,
where my once lonely and drifting barque is held in a fair harbor by
twelve strong anchors. Lapped continually by warm tides of love and
youth and joy. And my dearest hope is that the rest of my days may be
spent Mothering on Perilous.</p>
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