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

choked me and for a moment I could hardly see—everything was in a sort of mist.
    Abner swept the room in a glance, then he stopped. “Thank God!” he said; “I’m in time.” And he drew his hand down over his face with the fingers hard and close as though he pulled something away. “In time for what?” said Dix.
    Abner looked him over. And I could see the muscles of his big shoulders stiffen as he looked. And again he looked him over. Then he spoke and his voice was strange. “Dix,” he said, “is it you?” “Who would it be but me?” said Dix. “It might be the devil,” said Abner. “Do you know what your face looks like?”
    â€œNo matter what it looks like!” said Dix. “And so,” said Abner, “we have got courage with this new face.”
    Dix threw up his head.
    â€œNow, look here, Abner,” he said, “I’ve had about enough of your big manner. You ride a horse to death and you come plunging in here; what the devil’s wrong with you?”
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong with me,” replied Abner, and his voice was low. “But there’s something damnably wrong with you, Dix.”
    â€œThe devil take you,” said Dix, and I saw him measure Abner with his eye. It was not fear that held him back; fear was gone out of the creature; I think it was a kind of prudence.
    Abner’s eyes kindled, but his voice remained low and steady.
    â€œThose are big words,” he said.
    â€œWell,” cried Dix, “get out of the door then and let me pass!”
    â€œNot just yet,” said Abner; “I have something to say to you.”
    â€œSay it then,” cried Dix, “and get out of the door.”
    â€œWhy hurry?” said Abner. “It’s a long time until daylight, and I have a good deal to say.”
    â€œYou’ll not say it to me,” said Dix. “I’ve got a trip to make tonight; get out of the door.”
    Abner did not move. “You’ve got a longer trip to make tonight than you think, Dix,” he said; “but you’re going to hear what I have to say before you set out on it.”
    I saw Dix rise on his toes and I knew what he wished for. He wished for a weapon; and he wished for the bulk of bone and muscle that would have a chance against Abner. But he had neither the one nor the other. And he stood there on his toes and began to curse—low, vicious, withering oaths, that were like the swish of a knife.
    Abner was looking at the man with a curious interest.
    â€œIt is strange,” he said, as though speaking to himself, “but it explains the thing. While one is the servant of neither, one has the courage of neither; but when he finally makes his choice he gets what his master has to give him.”
    Then he spoke to Dix.
    â€œSit down!” he said; and it was in that deep, level voice that Abner used when he was standing close behind his words. Every man in the hills knew that voice; one had only a moment to decide after he heard it. Dix knew that, and yet for one instant he hung there on his toes, his eyes shimmering like a weasel’s, his mouth twisting. He was not afraid! If he had had the ghost of a chance against Abner he would have taken it. But he knew he had not, and with an oath he threw the saddle blanket into a corner and sat down by the fire.
    Abner came away from the door then. He took off his great coat. He put a log on the fire and he sat down across the hearth from Dix. The new hickory sprang crackling into flames. For a good while there was silence; the two men sat at either end of the hearth without a word. Abner seemed to have fallen into a study of the man before him. Finally he spoke:
    â€œDix,” he said, “do you believe in the providence of God?”
    Dix flung up his head.
    â€œAbner,” he cried, “if you are going to talk nonsense I promise you upon my oath that I will not stay to