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We drove up to the Swiggarts' house, and both Laban and his wife expressed great surprise at seeing us. "You're wet through, mother," said Mrs. Swiggart, "and all of a tremble." "Yes, Alviry, I've had a close call. This young man saved my life." "Nonsense," said Ajax gruffly. "I did nothing of the sort, Mrs. Skenk." "Yes, you did," she insisted, grimly obstinate. "Any ways," said Mrs.
A crash behind told me that he had flung her back into her seat. At the same moment the near horse found a footing; there was a mighty pull from both the terrified animals, the harness held, and the danger was over. When we reached the bank I looked round. Mrs. Skenk was smiling; Ajax was white as chalk. "She w-w-would have s-s-sacrificed her l-l-life," he stammered.
No Skenk had been known to wed a drunkard, a blasphemer, or an evil liver. Moreover, Laban had been the first to welcome us two raw Englishmen to a country where inexperience is a sin. He had helped us over many a stile; he had saved us many dollars. And he had an honest face.
Long before we came to the Salinas River it was pouring down in torrents an inch of water to the hour. "It's a cloud-burst," said Mrs. Skenk, from beneath a prehistoric umbrella. "This'll flush the creeks good." I whipped up the horses, thinking of the Salinas and its treacherous waters. In California, when the ground is well sodden, a very small storm will create a very big freshet.
Laban was awful good. He laughed and worked, but we couldn't make it. Times was too hard. I'd see Samanthy trailin' silks and satins in the dust, and and my underskirts was made o' flour sacks. Yes flour sacks! And me a Skenk!" She paused. Neither Ajax nor I spoke. Comedy lies lightly upon all things, like foam upon the dark waters. Beneath are tragedy and the tears of time.
I never see a chicken took with the gapes but I think o' Abram Skenk. Yes, Mr. Ajax, my daughters was all born here, 'ceptin' Alviry. She was born in Massachusetts. It did make a difference to the child. As a little girl she kep' herself to herself. And though I'd rather cut out my tongue than say a single word against Laban Swiggart, I do feel that he'd no business to pick the best in the basket.
Skenk continued with a catalogue, long as that of the ships in the Iliad, of travellers who, in fording the Salinas, had crossed that other grim river which flows for ever between time and eternity. We had reached the banks before she had drained her memory of those who had perished.
The lie about the ham had been doubtless concocted for purposes of plunder. The kindness and hospitality of our neighbours had been, after all, but a snare for tenderfeet. We found Mrs. Skenk whom we had seen on arrival sitting on her front porch, satchel in hand, patiently awaiting us. Ajax helped her to mount no light task, for she was a very heavy and enfeebled woman. I drove.
I lashed the poor struggling beasts unmercifully, but the wagon settled slowly down inch by inch. Death grinned us in the teeth. Then I heard Mrs. Skenk say, quite collectedly: "'Tis my fault, and my weight." Then Ajax roared out: "For God's sake, sit down, ma'am, sit down. SIT DOWN!" he screamed, his voice shrill above the bellowing, booming waters.
We had been robbed and humbugged, injured in pride and pocket, but the lagging hours anointed our wounds. Philosophy touched us with healing finger. "If we prosecute we advertise our own greenness," said Ajax. "After all, if Laban did fleece us, he kept at bay other ravening wolves. And there is Mrs. Skenk. That plucky old soul must never hear the story. It would kill her."
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