That\u27s a mighty fine lookin\u27 mare you\u27re drivin\u27 there, mister. You say she throwed a shoe about a mile from here? Well, I guess we can fix that soon as I run down some tools..

Huntzinger, M. R.

Digital Commons @ Butler University

Old FibM. R. HUNTZINGERThat's a mighty fine lookin' mare you'redrivin' there, mister. You say she throweda shoe about a mile from here? Well, Iguess we can fix that soon as I run downsome tools.Didn't think I'd ever seen you roundhere before. You say you're passin' throughto Upland? Well, you only got about anhour's drive ahead of you.Whoa!-There now-steady gal, liftyour foot-easy, that-a-babe. She's a peppyIookin' little rascal. Looks a mite too fatfor much trottin'. You ougbta keep 'er 'wayfrom grass for a day or two before youdriv'er much.Guess I talk too much, but there ain'tmuch else to do. I used to have anotherblacksmith here to help me, but he got shot.He was really a yarn teller. Most folkscalled him a liar but I never could see himthat way. Course he did lie most of thetime I guess, but he did it with such tastethat it's hard to think of 'im as a liar.Men folks 'round here could set andlisten to old "Fib" tell tales from mornin'till night. He always went by the name"Fib," cause that's what his buddies allcalled him while he served under GeneralGrant durin' the Civil War. Never knowed'nother man that could drink and talk allthe time and still get fifteen stallions shodin one afternoon. Course he'd knock offsome days to go on a bender and nevershow up for a couple days, but when hedid work he could do the work of two men.The steady boozers down at the tavernusta get 'im tanked and start 'im to tellin'tales. They called 'em lies, but I called 'emtales.Old "Fib" could really keep youlaughin', Most every night after the tavernclosed he'd go somew heres and play pokertill morning. He was a shark too. Wonlosta money cause no one could tell whenhe was bluffin'. Luckiest man on drawin'face cards and aces I ever seen. I seen'em stick in a three-hundred dollar pot onenight on a little pair of duces. He tookthree cards from the dealer and damned ifhe didn't draw three aces. Come time ferbets and "Fib" set still as a mouse. Finallyhe drawled out, "Reckon I ain't got no busi-ness stayin' this hand with three little aces,but I'll be game and raise the limit." Heflipped a wrinkled fifty-dollar-bill to thecenter of the table and never took his eyeoff his hand. The other tellers looked ateach other sorta sore like and they raisedold "Fib." He foller'd suit and raised thelimit once more, and his hand was called.When he flashed his hand, his full-housewas good as gold. He seemed plenty sur-prised at winnin' the pot and was realpleased with hisself."Fib" wasn't no real hansom man buthe was awful careful how he dressed. Iguess he spent most of his money on fancyduds and liquor. When he stepped out inhis Sunday suit, he could make you stopand look twice. After a days work here inthe shop you get purty dirty. I guess that'swhat makes a smithy look purty neat whenhe dolls up.One day durin' spring rainin' seasonthere wasn't much doin' here so I told "Fib"to take off for a couple days. Well, he gotdolled up and walked down town. Fer achange he walked right past the tavernwithout stoppin' in for a snort. Well, someof the heavy drinkers noticed 'im not stop-pin' in so they walked out t6 see what wasthe matter. They asked 'im to Come in and- 27-tell 'em a lie, but he said he didn't havetime. Course they asked 'im why and hetold 'em he was goin' down to see old TeddyCranes' corpse. The all lifted their hatsand said they was sorry to hear that he haddied. Teddy was the old feller I boughtthis here shop from. Well, the fellers allwent straight to home and washed theirfaces and then met at the tavern to gocallin' on the corpse. But what do ya know,when they got there, old Teddy was settin'on the porch smokin' his pipe and arguin'over a checker match with his missus, Yessir, old "Fib" could really tell tales.I don't recollect if it was the glare ofthe forge or the liquor that caused Fib'seyes to start goin' bad, but any how he surepicked up a case of bad eyes. Got so heCOUldn'tdo much work by the time he wasfif'ty. I kept 'im round here to do littlethings and that kept 'im in clothes andliquor money. I felt sorry fer 'im. He'dgit mad 'nough to stomp holes in the groundwhenever anyone mentioned his bad eyes.He picked up some dime-store cheaters, butthey didn't help 'im any cause his eyes werejust past fixin'. This cramped his shootin'eye somethin' awful too. Neverthelesshe'd go huntin', but it sorta got under hishide when he got razzed about not gittin'any game.The last time old Fib went huntin' hewent into Conner's woods, which is justpacked with fat fox squirrels, and he stayedall day. He seen a dozen or so, but didn'tgit a dern one. On the way back to townhe runned into old man Conner's youngun'with his pockets bulgin' with squirrels. Fibmanaged to trade his knife and a box ofshells fer six of the fattest ones the kid had.He told the kid never to tell anyone aboutthis little swap and the kid kept thepromise.Fib displayed hi~ kill to the tavern flockan' then hung the tails over his anvil herein the shop. They served to sorta stop thefellers from teasin' Fib about his eyes fera while; nobody believed he killed 'em.Well sir, it was just about this time twoyear ago durin' spring plowin' that old Fibgot shot. It was just before quittin' timeand me an Fib was gittin' ready to go tosupper. I was puttin' way some tools andFib was out in back of the shop gittin' somecoal for the forge. Here come a stranger inlookin' for Fib."Does a guy named Filbert Browningwork here?" he asked. I told 'im Fib wasout in back gittin' coal. He was tall, darkand sorta puny lookin' and he had a cleanlook. He was young, 'bout twenty-five I'dsay, and talked a little like a Rebel. I wastryin' to place 'im when I heard a shot outback. I reckon it was five minutes after thatwhen old Fib died with a hole in his chest.The stranger come back in the shop andasked if I'd go with 'em to see the Marshall.Damned if I wasn'tdumbfounded. I stoodlookin' at Fib bleedin' in a heap. I didn'teven notice that the stranger had taken off.Course I run over to the Marshall's place,but the stranger was already there. TheMarshall locked 'im up and the young Rebelnever said nothin' .It wasn't until the day of the trial atBilby's grocery that I learn'd about Fib'spassed years.It seems that Fib had been a prisonerof the Confederates in Georgia and escaped.He got as far north as the Kintuck-Tennes-see line and couldn't git any further. Theconfeds were check in' every thing that wastryin' to get north. Well, he was lucky, asusual ,and some Tennessee'en took 'im inas a hired hand. He worked fer nothin' tillthe war was over fer this feller. Durin'this time he got attracted to a little Rebelgal and they got married on the sly. Boutthree months 'efore the babe was due hislittle woman got struck with a bolt of thatTennessee lightnin'. Well it hurt her purtyawful and she went blind right away. Well,-28-Fib took off from them hills right then, andleft that little gal blind and carrin' an un-born chile'.Since my misses hails from Tennessee Ifelt like I outa talk with the Young Rebel.I felt sorta sorry fer 'im, I guess, but hewouldn't talk to me or anyone fer thatmatter before the trail. Course he talkedto Squire Davis and the Marshall.The day of the hearin' the whole towncrowded in the grocery and the puny Rebeltold his story. Then he fished a marriagelicense from his pocket and the jury lookedit over. It was passed around the crowdand sure enough it had old Fib's signaturescribbled on it.There wasn't much else to do butrelease the stranger and nobody wanted anyaction against 'im. I guess everyone feltkinda' sorry for the young stranger's rna'.A hat was passed and enough money wascollected to see the feller home. He neverdid ten anyone except the Squire and theMarshall how he happened to know thatFib was livin' here in Matthews, Indiana.Whoa! Back up girl-there now, you'regood as new again. That'll be two-bitsmister.Variations On A Theme By CandideFRANK SLUPESKY"The United States, best of all possiblecountries," is the conviction of most non-thinking, yet sincere Americans. Was ourgovernment not formed by people whorebelled against the despotism of Europe?Was our Constitution not formed to giveequality and self-government to the citizensof America? Did we not fight a civil war toinsure equality? Have we not always beena humane nation? Were we not too gener-ous in donating millions to the Japaneseearthquake relief, just to turn around andhave them "stab us in the back" at PearlHarbor? Have we not more radios, tele-phones, automobiles, washing machines,lawn mowers and phonographs than all therest of the world? Is our standard of livingnot higher than that of any other country?But, upon reflection, is the UnitedStates the best of all possible countries?Is it not possible that, like Dr. Pangloss,we are merely suffering from many illu-sions? Patriotism, the cause of our illu-sions, is an admirable quality only when itdoes not blind reason.I first suspected the fallibility of theUnited States because of a high school his-tory teacher. Of course in grammar schoolthe history texts are more devoted to theeloquent speeches of Nathan Hale and Pat-rick Henry than to an objective delineationof history, and the high school texts as arule are equally biased. But, fortunately,this teacher thought we had been exposedto enough illusions. For the first time Ilearned how the United States rudely andunjustly acquired California from Mexico,how we shamelessly failed to fulfill ouragreements with France after the Revolu-tion and how we inspired the Panamaniansto revolt from Columbia just so we couldbuild the Canal. And now we apply somevery choice adjectives to the Panamaniansfor not renewing the lease on the islandswhich we have been using as air basesto protect the Panama Canal. Is there no-29-

Old Fib

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Old Fib

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