Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 Read Free Page A

I
bowed and waited.
                 There
was dead silence all over, for while I counted about half a dozen ticks. Then
they broke out with their racket. I walked off, and Brooke Altic met me as I
came down the steps from the stage. He grabbed my hand in his thin, strong one
and shook it.
                 “That
was magnificent, John,” he said. “Listen to them applaud .”
                 We
waited until the noise died down. Then Brooke Altic walked up there again and
took the mike in hand. Callie Gray and Jackson Warren came up on my right and
left.
                 “That
song’s a great one,” said Callie. “It made me shiver but it’s great.”
                 “You’re
a true artist, John,” said Warren .
                 “I
wonder myself why he asked me to sing a ghost song,” I told them.
                 Meanwhile,
Aide’s voice was a-coming on loud over the public address system. “Ladies and
gentlemen,” he said, “thank you for seeming to enjoy our efforts here tonight.
Now it’s time to give the prizes.”
                 One
of the black-coated men, likely the one who’d taken up the money at the gate,
brought a tray with gold-shining cups.
                 “I’m
going to read out the names in the various categories,” announced Altic.
“Please clap for whoever you think should win.”
                 He
read out the names for fiddle, banjo, guitar, dance, and so on. There was
clapping for name after name, but most of all came when, in the guitar class,
Altic said, “John.”
                 “Go
on up,” said Warren, and I went up. Several other winners were there, the
fiddling Hunters amongst them. Altic gave out the cups, one by one. Mine was a
beauty, a round one to hold better than half a pint, with a foot to stand on.
We all of us bowed our thanks and left the stage. Warren looked at the cup.
                 “This
may well be worth a fortune,” he said.
                 “And
now, my friends,” Altic boomed over the system, “you may have heard that this
event has been staged to raise money for a good cause, the advancement of
freedom and justice and progress. It is possible that some of you would care to
help that cause further along. I'm going to ask the Four Seekers to play for us
while we pass the hat.”
                 The
Four Seekers hurried on stage and went into another wild, drum-roily piece of
music that seemed to flicker round them in the lantern light While they did
that, I saw the black-coated fellows out in the aisles with little baskets,
a-passing them back and forth like for a collection in church. People along the
rows put things in the baskets and handed them back. One of the fellows walked
to where we three stood beside the steps to the stage and held out his basket
                 “Thank
you, but I don't reckon I will,” I said, a-looking into his basket. It was
three quarters full of money bills and what looked like jewels—ladies' rings
and bracelets and so on. That was a rich harvest without anything from me, and
no I reckon about it. He looked at me, with deep eyes and a nose pooched out
like the beak of a bird. Then he went on past me.
                 “So
you didn't contribute, John,” said Jackson Warren, close to my ear.
                 “No.
I didn't feel like it.”
                 "Neither
did I .” He barely whispered that. "Maybe you
suspect this crowd.”
                 "Maybe."
                 "Well,"
he said, "they're Shonokins."
                 "Shonokins?" I didn't recollect air a-hearing that
name before. "What's that mean?"
                 "Keep
your voice down.” His eyes watched mine. "Since you're here, it's high
time you found out. You and I would do well to work together, perhaps. Where
are you staying tonight?"