* * *
Stiles coffins had a reputation for quality that crossed the river. Mr Job did not mind the toll at all, because getting coffins across by old Alf were slow going. At our first deliveries of June, he were eager as a piglet for the bridge. Even as we approached the tolltaker’s cabinet, he waved his nickel like he were eager to be shut of it.
It is twenty cents said the voice inside the cabinet.
Mr Job pointed at the sign reading TOLL FIVE CENTS.
The voice – we never seen the tolltaker’s face – said Five for you Five for him Five for the ox Five for the wagon
Mr Job tasted his teeth some. It is poor comedy you are asking such a price for This were wild impudence from Mr Job Stiles.
The voice considered this scolding a moment. I will ask you five cents for each coffin next
Mr Job went in his pockets for the wanting coins. At least give us a bag of peanuts
Asa snorted at hearing peanuts – they were not sugar but they would do.
It is a penny more for peanuts
Let us fly as haints again, like we did at the first hour of the year. The air is much warmer at summer, and there is no call for coat or cloak, even at the depth of night. Yet these men on the Irish town hill wear hoods over their heads. In the dark of a sliver moon their two lanterns look like unsteady eyes. These men are staggering badly. They have been keeping the company of the jug.
Ah – speak of jugs – there is Dog himself atop a mule. It is Ozias’s mule Absalom – you know him by his gleaming denture. And there is Mr Ozias himself. And Mr Barzilla Fraley – a fixture of the grocery same as any stove. No surprise to see him drunk. Birt the fallen preacher. YL Honey with his new denture to rival Absalom’s. Mr Philo wearing his good visiting leg, atop his fat horse Oliver. Ancient Dog and Phi carry lanterns on their mounts – how did Dog come to ride Absalom? The men on their own feet are struggling some on the lane’s poor surface – they are not drunk but carrying what look like… barrels.
It is the first hours of the July 4 holiday now. Surely whiskey explains this promenade. There is to be a great celebration – fireworks and boat rides and dancing and cider – rastles and romance – every manner of good fun. Dog has only got them hauling whiskey down to prepare for the celebration. Perhaps they are not drunk but early to work.
You have never known Barse Fraley to be early at anything besides drinking.
* * *
Barse did not see the intelligence of hauling four firkins of gunmeal by hand. Powder is a moody substance and liable to ignite when offended. Just what were the sense in stumbling down the pighole Irish lane when a concerned party owned a half dozen wagons that might roll down the good Columbus road in style?
Barse always were generous with other folks’ merchandise.
Oze!
Shhhhh
Fetch us a wagon
If you known one thing about Ozias it were that he loved his wagons and mules more than his own hide.
Philo known Oze plenty, but it did not stop him from taking up with Barse.
One of you idiots is going to spill your barrel and explode us apart I will have two legs again but neither the ones I started with Oze go fetch a god damned wagon
Oze did not argue back, though he surely liked to.
Oze I know you hear me donkey-lover
Oze still kept quiet, only setting down his barrel and breathing.
O—
You listen here Philo S___lips Fish—
Philo bristled to hear his name spoken so loud.
—I will not have any of my wagons exploded for a demonstration I do not understand why we are bringing four barrels of powder if tomorrow night is only to be a demonstration My wagons My wagons is meant for better things than exploding—
Philo went to the eternal debate with relish. You are missing the trick The wagon is only to get the powder to the bridge and not paint this path with your brains if you had any OZIAS BASKET
YL Honey whispered around his new teeth that If you keep shouting names we will surely—
Despite YL’s good sense the lyceum kept on for some minutes, drunk preacher Birt putting in vile talk too filthy to write, Oze and Phi lashing each other like it were daytime, YL trying to make peace, Barse wishing he had said nothing at all.
Dog had kept silent on Absalom’s back, but the chatter were too much to abide. You cretins ought to let your mouths rest same as your brains We cannot take a wagon because a wagon wants a good road and if we take Clark’s good road we will be marked And if we are marked I will personally feed all your marital parts to my cats
Dog swung off Absalom calm as a spider. He looked too brittle for the work, but he grabbed up Ozias’s barrel and resumed the march down to the bridge.
A holiday were not a holiday without a dawn toast from Miss Dolores. She had a poor temper and were not much to look at, but on the nation’s birthday our ancient cannon had a whole regiment of beaus feeding her as much breakfast as she liked.
krTTHWANNFFNG a half minute
krTTHWANNFFNG a half minute
krTTHWANNFFNG —
I will not write out the whole toast, but she mentioned each of the twenty-six states, hollering in the general direction of Washington city. Her remarks was a success as far as grabbing me out of sleep. I opened up the attic window and seen by the dawn that Big’s bed were untouched. He had not been himself – man or spirit or squirrel – since his hopes of work from Mr Clark had been dashed so quick. He had spent spring and the start of summer in a low condition, seeking feats and not often finding them.
My brother owned prime lots in my mind and I worried on him. But the Fourth were not a day for fear. It were a time for cider and frolics and boat rides and joyful things. Starchier folks come together for toasts and benedictions and Hail! Co-lum-bia’s fav-o-rite son Hail! Im-mor-tal Wash-ing-ton. I did not mind if they hogged all that for themselves – I would take their slice of the rowdier doing.
* * *
At the front of the parade were our six aged patriots – living veterans of the great revolution. The oldest of the old were Ahaz Farly, near to ninety, clutching a musket like he were still on the watch for King George. After Ahaz came the twins Rufus and Richard Feely. Rufus were blind and Richard were deafer than bricks, but together the twins had their senses. After the Feelys went Gunt Stephens, rolled in a chair by his son, and after Gunt went Gid Gaylord, as thin as a broomstick and not nearly as personable. At the back of the regiment was Mr August Dog Dogstadter, whom you have met already. Dog had only been a servant boy during the revolution, but he wore his red-and-blue soldier suit prouder and meaner than any of the others – matched with the rusty sword from his grocery wall.
* * *
The celebration could not start until the parade reached the square, and the parade could only move as quick as the patriots. At first folks only cheered louder and waved their kerchiefs. But after a quarter hour the cheering dimmed. After Gid sat down on a stump to rest, Mayor Frawley made a suggestion that the ancient ones climb aboard a wagon to spare their feet.
The patriots did not care for this idea, and brittle old-fashioned cussing were heard. But Frawley signaled the gray-and-gold suited militia to load up the aged brigade. The privates chased the brass band off their wagon for the purpose. The Feelys was captured quick enough, and Gunt were simply lifted by his rolling chair. Gid Gaylord were hooked under the arms and dragged up. Only two fought on – ancient Ahaz swinging his musket like a club, and spry Dog waving his rusted sword and promising lockjaw to any who breathes on me.