Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 181: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A MEAN RIVER LADY. Tiptonville, he was the man who owned Slough Neck Bend; also, he was the man who minded his own business, whether other people minded theirs or not. His customers came to his boat, meekly desired the favor of paying him three dollars for a quart, two dollars a pint, or ten dol- lars a gallon, and he dispensed his wet goods with the lordly air of a king conferring a decoration for favors rendered, or something like that. Fishermen brought the money from three days’ fishing, darkies brought the cash from two days’ picking, trappers brought the catch of a week, all to do business with the stern but livable Chick Blowe. The cus- tomers, perhaps, would throw an extra half on the bar and invite Mr. Blowe to have one with them at twenty-five cents per. Blowe sometimes refused to drink with some of his customers, showing them their place. Again, he would take a very small taste. He looked at life differently from a good many people, he explained to some specially favored up-the-banker.: He didn’t permit any disorder on his boat, none whatever. If a man began to look rough, why, ashore he went! The result was that he kept a perfectly respectable whisky-boat. “They can’t nobody say a word ag’in’ my boat!” he declared. ‘‘ Why, they don’t sing to amount to’ anything on here; and as for cutting anybody, or doing meanness with a revolver er automatic, that’s strictly forbidden. “ T’d as soon think of lettin’ anybody git killed up on this boat as I would of lettin’ anybody kill me er a dog. Yes, sir! That’s whatever! I never had but two men shot and one cut on this boat, all the while I’ve been here. den I didn’t have no chance to prevent a regrettable incident, in the matter of shoot- ings, and the fellow who was cut needed it. So it wa’n’t nothing to lay up against this here boat.” . No. one mentioned up the bank. That was something beyond Mr. Blowe’s juris- diction. A few cuttings, once in a while a shooting, and some mysteries of prople found along the trails—he didn’t know any- thing about them, and it wasn’t polite to probe the ignorance of Mr. Chick Blowe. And both times it come so sud-. 171 And right at this juncture a little red- haired woman dropped down to the Black Possum and tied her skiff painter to a cleat. She walked into the whisky-boat and up to the redoubtable Mr. Blowe. said she: ‘‘ My name’s Diswa MoHane, and my man’s a fisherman over by Win- chester Chute. Likely you know him?” “Yes, I know him; catches right smart of fish!” ‘Yes, and he spends the money here in this whisky-boat.” ‘““He’s a man, and he’s got a right to spend his own money, I expect,’’ Blowe smiled, rubbing his hands. “He thinks he has, same as you thinks he has,” Mrs. MoHane said. ‘“ But I want to tell you, Mr. Chick Blowe, that next time, the very next time, my old man comes home without his money, with a gallon-jug, and hit half empty and him half full, I’m goin’ to see that somethin’ happens, and happens like hell, on this yeah shanty-boat! Don’ yo’ fergit that, yo’ old scoundrel!” She turned, stepped into the gloom of the rapid dusk, and her oars were dipping be- fore the astounded Mr. Chick Blowe could recover from his amazed paralysis. “Talk to me thataway, on my own boat!” Blowe fumed; and the two black men along the black side of the bar and the three white men along the white side of the bar shook their heads and sighed. ‘Some women is powerful independent and high-spirited,” one said. ‘“ My land! Who ever heard a lady talk like that? My land!” Three nights later Catfish MoHane ar- rived on the Black Possum. By this time Chick Blowe had determined upon his nat- ural course of conduct. He actually had three drinks with Catfish; then he gave him a gallon of special proof whisky, instead of the usual thirty degrees, and this special proof would surely last longer, and it would have more kick while it lasted. It would surely be a lesson to Mrs. MoHane, and she would learn to hold her tongue to a whisky gentleman minding his own busi- ness. Blowe said so; he explained to every- body what he intended to do, and he did it. Catfish MoHane was a _ middling-sized, GOMIIGIOO SS (CO