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Updated: June 7, 2025
Crackers and cheese from a country store they had passed on their journey and a spray of black-heart cherries he had pulled from a tree by the wayside was all he and his mistress had eaten since the evening before at supper. That supper! Would he ever forget it? From the back porch steps he had heard the insults flung at Miss Ann by her hostess.
On days and nights in the old-fashioned winters, when the sledding of big logs to the sawmill on Ponkapoag brook had made the course down the hill one glare of adamantine snow between deep rifts, the population of the village used to turn out; not the big and little boys and girls only, but the grown-ups even to the venerable gaffers of those days who could remember how they used to coast there before the Civil War was thought of, when the Cherry Tavern still fed scores of pleasure-seeking Bostonians on big, luscious black-heart cherries each June, and in winter the Ponkapoag Inn had its patrons from the big city not only for coasting but for pickerel fishing on the pond.
Joe, with his cheeks like lady-apples, and his eyes like black-heart cherries, and his teeth like the whiteness of the flesh of cocoa-nuts, and his laugh that set the chandelier-drops rattling overhead, as we sat at our sparkling banquets in those gay times!
S'pose you send HER some cherries; she loves good things to eat, and maybe she will say yes, if you send lots." Mr. Dover laughed at this artless proposal, and Miss Henny smiled at the prospect of a gift of the luscious black-heart cherries she had been longing for. Roxy wisely repeated only the agreeable parts of the conversation; so nothing ruffled the lady's temper. Now, whether Mr.
Joe, with his cheeks like lady-apples, and his eyes like black-heart cherries, and his teeth like the whiteness of the flesh of cocoanuts, and his laugh that set the chandelier-drops rattling overhead, as we sat at our sparkling banquets in those gay times!
Before parting with Surgeon Frank Powell at the fort, Buffalo Bill had drawn a map of the country, marking the trail the surgeon-scout was to follow, and also just where he was to meet him, the place of rendezvous being the deserted camp where was the grave of Black-heart Bill. When Buffalo Bill approached the trail, at the scene of the Dead Line tragedies, he went most cautiously.
"You may have noted that the name of Mayhew is upon yonder aspen-tree?" "And referred to the fact." "I put it there." "Yes." "Then I knew who Black-heart Bill was." "That is so. I had not thought of that." "He was the brother of Manton Mayhew, the sergeant." "Indeed!" "Yes, sir." "You knew Sergeant Mayhew, then?" "Intimately, for we were boys together." "Ah! tell me of him."
Doctor Powell went to have a look at the grave of Black-heart Bill, and the inscription upon the white bark of the aspen-tree, and said, as he read the name: "Hugh Mayhew was his name." "Yes, sir." "There was a Sergeant Manton Mayhew killed at Fort Faraway by Sergeant Wallace Weston, who was sentenced to be shot for the deed, but escaped the very moment of his execution."
"He had gone out in search of gold with a desperado by the name of Black-heart Bill, and, finding gold, the other sought to rob him of it, so shot him. Failing to find it, he was anxious to have his victim recover and show him where it was, intending then to kill him. "It was while Black-heart Bill was away from his camp that I came to it, and I heard his victim's story.
So I dressed him in my uniform, took his traps, and went my way, and he was buried as Wallace Weston. "It was when I was returning to the gold find of Andrew Seldon that I came upon Black-heart Bill's camp, and, finding in him Hugh Mayhew, I killed him. My intention was to take Andrew Seldon's name, dig his gold, and, to ease my conscience, give half to his family.
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