Plainly the weird strains of the “Arkansaw Traveler” did not appeal to any emotion in _his_ soul. Music might have charms to soothe the savage, but it failed to awaken any responsive chord in the breast of this giant of the pine woods.
Crawley had now seized upon his child, and was holding her to him while making ungainly attempts to keep time with the rhythm of the music. Sallie actually smiled for the first time since Amos had entered the place; and it was a smile that lighted up her elfin features until in the boy’s mind they looked almost angelic.
Imagine the disgust of the scheming Big Gabe to come rushing into the cabin and discover such a remarkable thing as this going on.
His heavy voice sounded above the music, and the beat of Crawley’s feet on the floor.
“Stop it! Say, Crawley, hev ye gone clean crazy? What sorter kerryin’ on d’ye call this here, anyhow? Quit it, I say and act sensible. Hoy dye ’spect we’re a goin’ ter work out our game if ye play the big baby. Stop fiddlin,’ boy!”
Amos, of course, obeyed, and with the inspiration of the music gone, the traveler also ceased capering around the room.
He did look a little shame-faced as he turned upon his confederate; but at the same time there was a triumphant glow in his eyes as he burst out with:
“Why, hang it, Gabe, the boy kin play Arkansaw _all the way through_—what d’ye know about thet? Here I been jest wild ter ketch the hang o’ thet second half fer a coon’s age. P’raps yer don’t jest understand what thet means ter me, Gabe. Blame yer games—what do I keer, so long’s I lerns thet chune. Why, I’d risk my bones ter git hold of it.”
“Wall, if ye keep on a goin’ like I seen ye jest now, chances be ye’ll resk more’n yer bones; fer I’ll be tempted ter fill yer full o’ holes. What d’ye think I’ll stand fer, Crawley? I ain’t playin’ this game fer the fun of it. Money talks, and purty loud too, sometimes. Now’s one o’ ’em. S’pose ye let all this monkey-shine business drop fer the present, an’ play the game fer what it’s worth. Put that fiddle down, boy, drat ye, and don’t tech it agin, ’less ye want ter feel the heft o’ my hard fist. Crawley, come with me, back ter whar we was lyin’ in ambush.”
Big Gabe spoke in a determined way, and evidently possessed considerable power over his weaker-willed companion. For Crawley, although scowling, took a step forward, as if to obey.