the shotgun shot a boy down here, two or three weeks ago, for just cussing him.
The way the man had been misled was funny. It was hard for me to keep from laughing. He thought I was a mean boy that went around shooting people. He did not know what I was like inside and the inside of a man is the most important part. He did not know the real reason I pulled the trigger He never knew that I was willing to work, for nothing, if it would keep small fish from dying and going to waste. He didn't know that I pulled the gun to make him respect the young girls. He didn't know I pulled the trigger to keep my word.
I did not tell Kenneth that I would kill him. I am very careful what I tell a man, but what I do tell him is the way it will be. I told him if he continued to do what he was doing I would break him from the habit and that was what I did.
It is very important to me whether people believe me or not. If people do not believe what you say, you are nothing.
Later in life, feeling like I do about the truth, caused me to lose a mighty fine girlfriend. I was sure stuck on her I could tell she liked me very much too. Everything was going fine until one day she brought her cat to school with her. My desk was close by her's in the schoolroom. While we were all out playing at recess her cat climbed into my desk and helped himself to my lunch.
Now, when it came to my food, I was very serious. It was hard to come by and the cat had no business in school in the first place.
I told her about the crime her cat had committed and that it would be better for the cat if she would leave him at home. She said she would bring him with her anytime she got ready. I told her that I was not over him eating my lunch and if she brought him back to school I would make a bobcat out of him. She said she didn't believe I would cut her cat's tail off. I told her I had just got through telling her that's what I would do. She said that didn't make it the truth. I pulled my knife out, reached and got the cat's tail, and relieved him of his tail. She almost fainted.
I got whipped by the teacher and when my brothers and sisters told my Mother, she got very upset.
She knew I loved animals and was always kind to them. She asked me what caused me to cut the cat's tail off.
I said, "Mother, it is a long story. The first thing I want you to know is that it was not meanness. I have a much larger problem and the poor cat just kind of got caught in the whole thing. The girl is something very special to me. Someday I hope to marry her. I do not want a wife who does not believe what I say and I have not given up on her yet."
"It was something very important to me and it needed to be straightened out right then. I was thinking of our future. We could never be happy if we were going to lie to each other. I want her to know she can believe what I tell her, and that was the way it all happened."
I am sure the cat did not understand the worthy cause of losing his tail. He split the scene immediately
Time proved that the girl did not understand my feelings or the real reason for my behavior, because she quit having anything to do with me.
If I told her something today I just imagine she would take it for the truth.
Mother understood me and knew my intentions were good. She did not stop me from using the shotgun or my knife, but gave me quite a lecture on what they should be used for, and I promised to keep the cats out of my personal affairs.
Chapter Five
Winter was coming on and our wood burning heater, we used for heat, had barely made it the winter before.
We had no way of getting another heater. They had to come from the store and that meant money.
Mother must have been doing some real thinking. She came up with the idea of building a fireplace. We all knew this fireplace would have to come from what we had or what we could get for nothing. We all had ideas but Mother's were usually the best.
We had an old mule Daddy had bought from Bill Cox. We were still making payments on him at the time Daddy passed away. Later, Mr. Cox gave us the mule. He knew we needed the mule and had no way of paying for him.
The old mule helped with the fireplace but it was common sense that played the biggest part.
We knew it would have to be a dirt chimney and that it would have to stand up under heavy rain and a lot of heat. This meant a special kind of clay dirt.
There was a crawfish flat back in the woods, a mile or so from our house. The dirt there was a clay. It was a light gray color and really stuck together well. It was a low place and when it rained the water would stand there for an extra long time. This meant the water did not soak through the dirt as easily as it did through sand.
When the flat did go dry, the crawfish that lived there would dig down to the water level to stay alive. While they were digging their hole they piled the mud around the hole in the form of a chimney. Some of these chimneys were a foot high. When they dried out they became hard, like brick.
We used the old mule and a ground sled to transport the clay to the house. We got all our materials ready first. We rived slats for lumber and pulled dead grass from the fields and piled it up at the location where we were to build the chimney.
We built the frame out of slats first. Then we mixed water with the clay dirt making a stiff mud. We mixed grass in the mud to reinforce it. We rolled the mud into the shape of a worm. Mother called them "cats" They were about three inches in diameter and up to two feet long.
We stacked the cats inside the frame and outside of it too. All of this was done with our hands. We squeezed the cat into place, locking them all together, then we patted them and smoothed them down with our hands.
The chimney was three feet or so taller than the house and had a nice shape to it. We had to cut a large hole in the wall and finish out the inside.
All eight of us worked on the fireplace. Mother was the foreman and we were the crew. The girls never backed up from the work. They were right there when Mother needed them. The job turned out well and we sure were proud of the fireplace.
Living way back in the woods is never dull to a boy. There is always something for him to do if he knows his way around.
One of our favorite past times was watching our chickens fight.
There were whiskey stills hid out in the woods. We three boys were in the woods half of the time. We would find the still while we were hunting and could always go back to it.
Once the owner drained the soured mash off the chops, he had no further use for them and they were thrown to the side.
We would take some buckets and go to the still when no one was around. We got the soured chops to feed our chickens. The chops were still soaked with the sour mash, making the chickens drunk.
It was a hilarious sight to watch. The one that ate the fastest became drunk first. They acted just like people at a party. The one that became drunk first would quit eating and start walking around looking the others over. He would start trying to start a fight by pecking the other on the head. He would meet another one that had begun to feel the effect of the mash, and the fight was on.
In a short time other fights would break out. The chickens would crowd up, just like people, trying to get into the fight already started. Soon all the chickens were fighting. Some were gang fighting and others paired off. It was an enjoyable sight to watch them. It was
