Read Online Uncle Abner, Master of Mysteries by Melville Davisson Post - Free Book Online Page B

encamped. Besides, I wished to know what had become of the old mountebank, and it was a thing I soon discovered.
    His wagon stood on the edge of the ground among the trees near the river, with the door closed. His horse, tethered to a wheel, was nosing an armful of hay. The light of the stars filtered through the treetops, filled the wheels with shadows and threw one side of the wagon into the blackness of the pit. I went down to the fringe of trees; there I sat squatted on the earth until I heard a footstep and saw my Uncle Abner coming toward the wagon. He walked as I had seen him walking in the crowd, his hands behind him and his face lifted as though he considered something that perplexed him. He came to the steps, knocked with his clenched hand on the door, and when a voice replied, entered.
    Curiosity overcame me. I scurried up to the dark side of the wagon. There a piece of fortune awaited me; a gilded panel had cracked with some jolt upon the road, and by perching myself upon the wheel I could see inside. The old man had been seated behind a table made by letting down a board hinged to the wall. His knives were lying on the floor beside him, bound together in a sheaf with a twine string. There were some packets of old letters on the table and a candle. The little girl lay asleep in a sort of bunk at the end of the wagon. The old man stood up when my uncle entered, and his face, that had been dull and stupid before the justice of the peace, was now keen and bright.
    â€œMonsieur does me an honor,” he said. The words were an interrogation with no welcome in them.
    â€œNo honor,” replied my uncle, standing with his hat on; “but possibly a service.”
    â€œThat would be strange,” the mountebank said dryly, “for I have received no service from any man here.”
    â€œYou have a short memory,” replied Abner; “the justice of the peace rendered you a great service on this day. Do you put no value on your life?”
    â€œMy life has not been in danger, monsieur,” he said.
    â€œI think it has,” replied Abner.
    â€œThen monsieur questions the decision?”
    â€œNo,” said Abner; “I think it was the very wisest decision that Randolph ever made.”
    â€œThen why does monsieur say that my life was in danger?”
    â€œWell,” replied my uncle, “are not the lives of all men in danger? Is there any day or hour of a day in which they are secure, or any tract or parcel of this earth where danger is not? And can a man say when he awakes at daylight in his bed, on this day I shall go into danger, or I shall not? In the light it is, and in the darkness it is, and whereone looks to find it, and where he does not. Did Blackford believe himself in danger today when he passed before you?”
    â€œAh, monsieur,” replied the man, “that was a terrible accident!”
    My uncle picked up a stool, placed it by the table and sat down. He took off his hat and set it on his knees, then he spoke, looking at the floor.
    â€œDo you believe in God?”
    I saw the old man rub his forehead with his hand and the ball of his first finger make a cross.
    â€œYes, monsieur,” he said, “I do.”
    â€œThen,” replied Abner, “you can hardly believe that things happen out of chance.”
    â€œWe call it chance, monsieur,” said the man, “when we do not understand it.”
    â€œSometimes we use a better term,” replied Abner. “Now, today Randolph did not understand this death of Blackford, and yet he called it an act of God.”
    â€œWho knows,” said the man; “are not the ways of God past finding out?”
    â€œNot always,” replied my uncle.
    He gathered his chin into his hand and sat for some time motionless, then he continued:
    â€œI have found out something about this one.”
    The old mountebank moved to his stool beyond the table and sat down.
    â€œAnd what is that,