Text A Fiddle and the Law
Special Agent X came to a cabin about two miles up the mountain.
He had come to get Cal Richards,an armed and dangerous killer.
Through a broken window,he saw a man with a beard watching him closely.
Agent X drew a deep breath.
He stepped up to the cabin door with a cheerful"Hello!"
Beside the fireplace,an old man sat silently.
Still standing near the window was the bearded man--a gun in his hands.
"Government man,aren't you?"said the man with the gun.
"Yes,"replied the agent with a friendly smile.
"You must be Pappy Richards."
"Sure.I'm Cal's pa.And you're not going to get him."
The gun pointed at the G-man.
Agent X looked around the cabin.
I've been assigned to do it."he said.
But I can see he isn't here today.
I guess I'll have to come again.
Then he caught sight of a violin hanging on the wall.
"Who plays the fiddle?"he asked.
For a moment there was silence.
Then the old man by the fire spoke up.
"Pappy,"he said."He's the best fiddler in these parts.
"You ought to hear him play Turkey in the Straw."
The G-man seemed deeply impressed.
"You don't say!I play a little myself.
Mind if I look at the violin?"
As he crossed the room to the instrument,
he knew that the gun was still aimed at him.
He felt sweat on his forehead,
but he took the violin from the wall as calmly as if he were a welcome visitor.
He turned it carefully and wiped off the bow.
Then he broke into the lively music of Turkey in the Straw.
The old man began to beat time,tapping one foot on the dirt floor.
But Pappy stood unmoved,gun in hand and eyes alert.
One tune after another Agent X played,occasionally glancing at Pappy.
Suddenly the music changed,
and from the strings came the sweet notes of an old folk song.
Agent X was playing better than he had ever played in his life.
Pappy Richards stood enchanted,
the defiance in his eyes giving way to a look of wonder.
The gun was now pointed toward the floor.
When the final notes of the song died away,Pappy placed the gun in a corner.
"Well,stranger,"Pappy said,"that was first-class fiddling.
Maybe you'll stay for dinner and play some more for us."
After they had eaten,
the three men sat in the spring sunshine outside that cabin.
They talked about fiddle tunes and the fiddlers that Pappy and the old man had known here in the mountains.
They talked for an hour,and not once did anyone speak of the reason for the G-man's visit.
Once more the bow danced across the strings;
and so another hour passed quickly.
Still not a word was said about Cal Richards.
Finally the agent said,"Sorry!I must be getting back to the village."
Pappy's friend eyed him for a moment and said,
"How about Cal?You want him,don't you?"
There was a touch of amusement in his voice.
"Well,no,"said the G-man with a smile. "I don't want him.
The government wants him,and you know how it is when the government wants a man.
It may take days or months or years to get him,
but they'll get him.And the longer it takes,the worse off he is."
"Does the government always get the guy it wants?"
"No,not always.Sometimes he dies."
Pappy,sitting on a nearby log,was deep in thought.
"See here,stranger,"he interrupted suddenly.
"I like the way you talk and I like the way you fiddle.
I guess you're a decent guy."
He paused as if it were hard to go on.
Then,he said in a thick voice,"I--well,I'll have a talk with Cal.
I think he might give himself up tomorrow.
You be at the sheriff's office at noon!"
"Noon tomorrow!"said the agent,
wondering if he looked as surprised as he felt." So long until then."
After he left,he wiped his sweating forehead and sighed with relief.
The next day as the village clock struck twice,
announcing the hour of noon,
a bearded man came up the street toward the sheriff's office.
With him was a young fellow whose appearance told of many days in hiding.
The G-man was waiting.
"Stranger,"said Pappy."Here is Cal,my son.