THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 10
 
 A WALL OF MEN
 
 We go to rear a wall of men 
 On Freedom's Southern line, 
 
 And plant beside the cotton-tree 
 The rugged Northern pine. 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittler.
 
 The world, their world, because they were young and made 
 worlds easily, had no flaws in 
 
 the making [Page 81
 
 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 BY 
 
 MARGARET HILL McCARTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE PRICE OF THE PRAIRIE 
 
 THE PEACE OF THE SOLOMON VALLEY 
 
 ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR 
 By J. N. MARCHAND 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 1912
 
 Copyright 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 1912 
 
 Published October, 1912 
 
 Copyrighted in Great Britain 
 
 W. P. HALL PRINT! HO COMPANY, CHICAGO
 
 ?s 
 
 To the memory of those brave Empire Builders, who, 
 half a hundred years ago, founded a kingdom on 
 Liberty, Loyalty, and Love, and defended it with the 
 strength of brain and brawn and heart, this story of 
 a day of peril and power is offered here. 

 
 For the accuracy of the data which supplies the historical 
 background to this romance grateful recognition is here given to 
 William Elsey Connelley, historian, essayist, editor, whose gen 
 erous assistance has been invaluable to the author.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 THE DREAM 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I Beside the Old Trail 3 
 
 II The Hole in the Rock 14 
 
 III "Darrarat" 25 
 
 IV In the Evening Time 39 
 
 V Another Day That Was Different 51 
 
 VI Pilgrim Sons 64 
 
 VII A Prophecy 77 
 
 VIII The End of Dreams 94 
 
 PART 2 
 
 THE SACRIFICE 
 
 IX War on the Wakarusa 117 
 
 X The Unprotected 136 
 
 XI A Warlike Peace 156 
 
 XII The Storm . 167 
 
 XIII The Peace Party 180 
 
 XIV Winter Weather 195 
 
 XV Jupe's Bondage 212 
 
 XVI Fireside Foes - . 228 
 
 XVII Spring Weather 248 
 
 XVIII Prairie Pirates 267 
 
 XIX The Reign of Terror 286 
 
 XX "Letting in the Jungle" 305
 
 CONTENTS 
 PART 3 
 
 THE VICTORY 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XXI A Moral Agency 327 
 
 XXII The Enduring Promise 349 
 
 XXIII Broken Bonds 366 
 
 XXIV Whose Soul Goes Marching On 386 
 
 XXV The Dawn of Doom 409 
 
 XXVI 'Tiger! Tiger!" 426 
 
 XXVII The Miracle of Song 449 
 
 XXVIII From Marah to Horeb 465 
 
 XXIX The Locket and the Chain , 485
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Page 
 
 The world, their world, because they were young 
 and made worlds easily, had no flaws in the 
 making. ....... Frontispiece 
 
 "Don't fight till thee must, David" ... 20 
 " Boniface Penwin, you are an infamous liar" . 252 
 Shooting them without quarter 430
 
 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 PART ONE 
 
 THE DREAM 
 
 A hush comes over the story; a swaying back and forth, 
 Before the clinch for the combat between the South and 
 
 the North; 
 
 But in the lull and luridness of a daylight nearly done 
 John Brown has strapped his knapsack and taken his 
 
 Kansas gun. 
 
 Samuel W. Duffield.
 
 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 BESIDE THE OLD TRAIL 
 
 The rudiments of empire here 
 
 Are plastic yet and warm; 
 The chaos of a mighty world 
 
 Is rounding into form! 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 THE late summer rains had not been scant, and the 
 Vinland Valley was brilliantly green that Octo 
 ber. The Wakarusa winding down to meet the Kaw was 
 bordered either side by grassy stretches of virgin 
 prairie over which the warm autumn breezes swept 
 steadily, gently, ceaselessly. Great waves of verdure, 
 dark in the dip, yellow green on the crest, kept time to the 
 rhythm of the wind. Away to the northward the bluffs 
 on the farther side of the Kaw River were only a gray 
 shadow upon the sky-line. Nearer, in the northwest, 
 with golden crest uplifted above green draperies round 
 about it, rose strong and clear that sentinel headland of 
 the Kaw Valley christened Mount Oread. To the south, 
 a wooded height marks the bold beginning of the swell 
 that separates two Kansas river systems. Down its 
 steep sides the old Santa Fe Trail zigzagged through pic 
 turesque ways, shut in here and there by sharp-cut stone 
 ledges, and overhung by vine-draped trees. A cool, hid- 
 
 3
 
 4 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 den bit of wildwood roadway it was in the summer 
 time; a snug, sheltered length of trail when the biting 
 winds gnawed at the open prairies and the frenzied 
 winter's snows surged up the shallow draws, or piled 
 their huge heaps in aimless pattern on a helpless 
 land. 
 
 From the foot of this bluff the path of the Trail sloped 
 evenly away to a deep ravine, cutting an irregular line 
 across the plains from the southwest. Beyond the ravine 
 it crossed a rough, billowy belt of ground and came 
 again to a gently undulating prairie. 
 
 To the eastward, on the crest of this swell, the Trail 
 ran through a stretch of woodland, weaving to left or 
 right where the young saplings bunched together or a 
 dark thicket of evergreens stood up against easy road 
 making. 
 
 Along this historic old highway in the middle '50*8 came 
 the westward-facing people, with purposes as varied as 
 the varied speech and manner of the men who held them : 
 the frontier border raider; the New England emigrant, 
 Pilgrim Father of the plains; the Southern gentleman, 
 loyal to the empire-extending spirit; the refugee Negro, 
 sometimes close upon his heels ; the half-civilized Indian 
 from Michigan; the staunch-headed Quaker from In 
 diana; the adventurer, the State-builder, the outlaw, 
 the missionary, the dreamer of a day of better things 
 the footprint of each was, from time to time, in the dust 
 of this Trail. Each had crossed the border line between 
 the old Missouri State and the young Kansas Territory, 
 and, moving westward over the rolling green and bil 
 lows, had come to this wooded crest. Along its thicket- 
 guarded aisle they had followed the Trail in its winding 
 course to the height above the Vinland Valley. Down 
 by picturesque ledges they had threaded their way to the
 
 BESIDE THE OLD TRAIL 5 
 
 open again, and wandered off to the wide lands stretch 
 ing away with faint shadings westward somewhere. 
 
 What this Wakarusa region held for those who trav 
 eled the Trail in that fateful decade, their controlling 
 purpose in coming to it helped mightily to determine. 
 Just now there were no black shadows of tragedy on 
 the heliotrope heavens, no moan of sorrow in the gently 
 pulsing breeze, no quiver of pain in the rippling grasses. 
 A land of peace and promise, it lay under sweet Octo 
 ber skies, awaiting the hand of Empire to shape its story. 
 
 The sun of an autumn day was moving toward the 
 late afternoon, filling the west with a mellow radiance 
 and touching to burnished glass the quiet pools of the 
 Wakarusa. Just at the edge of the wood overlooking 
 the Vinland Valley a boy and a girl sat on a log beside 
 the Trail gazing out toward the north. Beyond them, 
 where the shadows were deeper, another boy sprawled 
 on the pine needles beside a clump of evergreens. There 
 was a summer languor in the air, and the three young 
 people resting idly on the shaded height seemed an un 
 conscious part of the landscape's stillness and dreamy 
 beauty. 
 
 " Look yonder, Beth. I wonder if that could be David 
 Lamond and Boniface Penwin, and thy father, Elliot?" 
 
 It was the boy on the log who spoke. Something of 
 gentle proprietorship was in his eyes as he turned to 
 the girl. He had the accent and slight drawl of the 
 Southern tongue, and there was the merest shade of 
 ridicule in the tone of the words "thy father." Elliot, 
 the young fellow on the ground, gave no sign of having 
 felt the thrust. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " that must be the rude forefathers of 
 Kansas coming down toward the crossing. See, Beth, 
 the two riding abreast, one on a white horse and the
 
 6 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 other on a black one. Look, they '11 soon be out of sight 
 in that bumpy prairie beyond the ravine by the ' Hole 
 in the Rock.' The third rider, away behind on a red 
 roan, is coming like a wild Indian to overtake the other 
 two. The black horse must be David Lamond's; the 
 white palfrey looks like my own dear dad's ; the red roan, 
 Craig, ought to be Colonel Penwin's. He must have 
 gotten separated from the others somehow. They don't 
 seem to know he is behind them." 
 
 " You 've got mighty good eyes for a Quaker, Elliot," 
 Craig replied. " I don't see anything like red or black or 
 white, and my father rode the bay colt anyhow. But I 
 know they are horsemen coming yonder, and since it is 
 about time for the parents of these babes in the woods to 
 be getting home from Lawrence, I just guessed that 
 was who these three might be. They may be the ' Three 
 Wise Men of Gotham,' or 'Old King Cole's Fiddlers 
 Three,' or any other noted trio, as well as the fathers of 
 us three here. We can't be sure till they get this side 
 of the ravine." 
 
 "I hope father will get home to-night," Beth said, 
 shading her eyes and studying the view. " Mother is so 
 uneasy when he is away. By the way," turning toward 
 the trees behind them, "the woods are so still, I won 
 der where Lucy and the boys are. I haven't heard a 
 sound for half an hour." 
 
 " Busy getting nuts, or up to some mischief, I suppose. 
 They are not likely to get lost with that big brother of 
 mine looking after them. Are you afraid, too, when your 
 father is away?" 
 
 A deepening tone came suddenly into Elliot's voice 
 as he asked the question, and his eyes looked steadily 
 into hers. 
 
 " Not very often," Beth answered, frankly. " Mother
 
 BESIDE THE OLD TRAIL 7 
 
 says I am like father, I never get scared at the right 
 time." 
 
 They were standing now looking out across the land 
 scape to where, far down the broad, dust-white trail, 
 tvyo horsemen were riding slowly through the late after 
 noon haze. Far behind them a third horseman was cov 
 ering the ground more rapidly, as if eager to overtake 
 them. 
 
 Youth has ever a charm of its own, but to these three 
 young people, just verging into manhood and woman 
 hood, Nature had been kind indeed. The older of the 
 two boys, Craig Penwin, he of the Southern tongue, 
 although dressed in the plain clothes of the Westerner 
 in frontier days, had a certain grace of manner that 
 declared the fine blood of the South. He was tall and 
 slender, with quick, easy motion, more suggestive of skill 
 than of strength and endurance when the fulness of man 
 hood should come. His eyes were blue, deep, summer- 
 sky blue, save when a steely glitter gave warning that 
 their owner might be just, but never merciful, never 
 forgiving. He did not smile quite often enough, and a 
 little film of reserve warded off familiarity. 
 
 The other boy, Elliot Darrow, younger, less assertive, 
 maybe, had nevertheless a wholesome sturdiness of 
 physique and a pleasing frankness of manner. His eyes 
 were very dark, with an Indian's keenness of vision that 
 could distinguish between black and roan when his com 
 panion saw only one color. His chin was square-cut, his 
 mouth was firm, his cast of features, although boyish 
 now, gave promise of a manly beauty that even old age 
 cannot obliterate. Above everything else was his smile 
 engaging. Then his face lost the little hint of sternness 
 it held. Nobody ever doubted Elliot Darrow who saw 
 him smile.
 
 8 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Between the two was the girl, Beth Lamond, with 
 whom the Quaker and the young Southerner had known 
 the good fellowship of companions. With all three, life 
 was yet to be met, and to them endless adventures 
 and new conditions called daily. No voice came out 
 of the still beauty of this October afternoon to whisper 
 to each that good fellowship cannot stay, nor to tell 
 why some quicker pulse beat brought a new thrill to 
 mark the day long afterward in memory. 
 
 Through the wind-swayed boughs the sunlight sifted 
 down on the girl's fair hair, touching with gold all its 
 soft, careless waves. The face beneath this golden glory, 
 with its curves of youth and bloom of health, was one 
 to make even a passing stranger turn to study. It held 
 something more than a fine cast of features : dimples to 
 fit the ready smile, and eyes that sparkled with fun. 
 
 " Beth Lamond is pretty enough for any kind of a pet 
 name, as a sweet Scotch lassie now," Colonel Boniface 
 Penwin, who had an eye for pretty faces, had declared, 
 "but she will be the handsomest woman west of the 
 Missouri River by and by ; and then, by George, they '11 
 call her only Elizabeth Lamond, the beauty of Kansas." 
 
 "If they don't call her Elizabeth Penwin," Craig's 
 little brother Tarleton had put in, a remark at which 
 his father laughed uproariously. 
 
 But Craig, kicking viciously at his brother's shins, had 
 said in disgust, " You 're the biggest idiot for your age, 
 Tarley, that ever came out of Georgia." 
 
 "Yep, Craig, I was lucky to get away when I did. 
 Lots of idiots still down South," Tarleton had snapped 
 back with a mischievous grin. 
 
 Colonel Boniface Penwin was no mean judge of David 
 Lamond's daughter. Her dark-gray eyes, toning neither 
 to blue nor brown, with long, black lashes and well-
 
 BESIDE THE OLD TRAIL 9 
 
 marked, black brows, gave its striking feature to her fair 
 face, beneath the abundant sunshiny hair. And in these 
 eyes, and about the firm, red lips, keener judges than 
 Colonel Penwin might have read the promise of womanly 
 charm and sturdy Scotch strength of character. 
 
 Her dress on this day was of dark blue and silvery 
 gray plaid, with a white thread checking through the 
 pattern the colors her father loved to have her wear. 
 They were the very plaid of the old Clan Lamond, sacred 
 reminders to the sturdy Kansas pioneer of family tradi 
 tions and a boyhood back in old Scotland. 
 
 The eyes of the three were on the figures passing down 
 the Trail toward the wooded ravine where the creek cuts 
 a deep channel through the stony stratum. Below the 
 Trail crossing in this ravine was a dark pool, hollowed 
 in the softer under layers of rock by the friction of the 
 passing stream through cycles of slow-wearing years. On 
 account of its peculiar formation and inky waters and 
 uncertain depth, it had become a landmark on the Santa 
 Fe Trail known as the " Hole in the Rock." 
 
 The two horsemen were lost to view now in what 
 Elliot called the "bumpy prairie," beyond the ravine. 
 Just as the third rider passed out of sight in the broken 
 land, he suddenly spurred off to the south leaving the 
 Trail and concealing his way in the rough, billowy places 
 until he dropped into the shadows of the wooded hollow. 
 The young people waited long, watching the Trail, uncon 
 scious of the passing minutes, until a shout in the woods 
 behind them announced the approach of a quartette of 
 youngsters. Joe Darrow and Tarley Penwin, barefoot 
 boys of ten years, swinging a long piece of wild grape 
 vine between them, came racing down the Trail together. 
 Close behind them was Lucy Penwin, a winsome, round- 
 cheeked girl of thirteen. Last of all came Mark Darrow,
 
 10 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 with an empty bag about his shoulders; a lusty boy of 
 fourteen, with a man's voice and a reckless, happy-go- 
 lucky manner. 
 
 " The nuts we did n't get," he declared, rolling up the 
 bag and aiming it at his brother Elliot's head. " I wish 
 now I'd gone fishing. I don't want to have anything 
 more to do with these woods. I heard the queerest noise 
 down the Trail as we were coming up here." 
 
 " Well, it is time you young papooses were getting here 
 anyhow," Craig said. 
 
 "And there is wood to cut and chores to do when 
 you get home, Mark. You are not through with your 
 day's work yet," Elliot declared. 
 
 " Not through ! " Mark exclaimed, with a solemn face. 
 " Well I guess not ; but I wonder what that noise could 
 have been. I wish now I 'd never come to Kansas. My 
 troubles are only beginning." 
 
 The laugh that followed was checked midway by a 
 voice beyond them, saying: 
 
 "You are right, my boy. You are right, your 
 troubles are only beginning." 
 
 A man on horseback had ridden from behind the ever 
 green clump and was standing in the dusty way. His 
 clothing was coarse and his face unshaven. Such a 
 stranger was no uncommon sight here six decades ago. 
 But the man's sudden appearance, his strong voice and 
 piercing eyes, held the group speechless. 
 
 " I did n't mean to scare you," the stranger said. " Do 
 you live about here ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," Craig replied. 
 
 The man looked at the group, and then said: 
 
 "You do not all belong to the same family. How 
 long have your fathers been in the Territory?" 
 
 "We all came here last spring," Craig said. "There
 
 BESIDE THE OLD TRAIL 11 
 
 are three families of us. Our fathers took up land about 
 these woods. We've been out hunting for nuts and 
 paw-paws, and waiting for our " 
 
 He did not go on. In frontier days children learned 
 early not to talk too much with strangers, and Craig 
 was courteous by training but cautious by instinct. 
 
 The man nodded approvingly. 
 
 " Can you tell me where I can find David Lamond or 
 Hiram Darrow?" he questioned. 
 
 "I think they are down the Trail now, coming from 
 Lawrence," Elliot answered, pointing to the ravine hiding 
 the open way. " There are some men down in the woods 
 by the creek." 
 
 " How shall I know them ? The ravine may have other 
 men in it and I am a stranger here." 
 
 "There are three of them together: Colonel Penwin 
 and the two you ask for. We have been up here watch 
 ing the .Trail for an hour, and nobody else has been in 
 sight down there," Elliot explained. 
 
 "Colonel Boniface Penwin of Georgia?" The stran 
 ger's lips stiffened as he spoke. 
 
 "Yes, sir, my father," Craig replied, quickly, his own 
 lips tightening also about his white teeth. 
 
 "I have no business with him just yet," the man 
 answered in an even tone. " I should not want to mis 
 take him for either one of the others." 
 
 " David Lamond is riding a big, black horse, and my 
 father, Hiram Darrow, is on a white one. Colonel Pen- 
 win has a bay colt. You can't miss them," Elliot said. 
 
 The stranger smiled. 
 
 "It used to be said that a white horse means peace, 
 and a black one, power. If you had a red roan now it 
 would mean bloodshed. I shall know the men, I think." 
 
 All this time Mark Darrow had not taken his eyes
 
 12 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 from the stranger's face. As he lifted his bridle rein 
 to go, Mark asked, with boyish bluntness: 
 
 " What made you say our troubles are only beginning ? 
 We are just a lot of boys and girls." 
 
 The stranger looked out across the landscape, a-dream 
 in a filmy haze that softened every sharp color and 
 rounded every angle. In his eyes was the prophet's 
 vision which no other man might see. 
 
 " You are young from ten to sixteen or seventeen at 
 most, shall I say?" looking from the least to the tallest 
 there, " given ten years and then count your dark days, 
 and remember what I have said to you." 
 
 Only one pair of eyes looked steadily into the eyes 
 of the speaker Mark Darrow fourteen years old, with 
 a man's voice and a daring speech. 
 
 The stranger took up his reins again, and with no 
 further word passed on his way down the winding Trail 
 and was soon out of sight. 
 
 " I hope that 's the last of him," Craig declared, when 
 the man was out of hearing. "Talk about trouble it 
 will come by the bucketful wherever he is. He 's a 
 trouble-maker, I know." 
 
 " I wish I 'd asked him his name," Mark said. " I liked 
 him. I don't know why, but I did." 
 
 "Well, let him go now. What was it that scared 
 you down in the woods, Mark?" Elliot asked. 
 
 "Didn't anything scare me," Mark declared, stoutly, 
 " but right where the rocks hang over the Trail I heard 
 the queerest noise. A kind of a groan, and something 
 went ' sth.' I did n't wait to hear any more." 
 
 "Was that what made you come up the hill so fast 
 behind us?" queried Lucy. 
 
 " Oh, Mark, did you really hear anything? " Joe shiv 
 ered with fear.
 
 BESIDE THE OLD TRAIL 13 
 
 "No, he didn't, Joe. He just thought he did," Beth 
 said, soothingly. 
 
 " I know I did. Just like somebody was there." The 
 boy turned defiantly before the company. 
 
 Unconsciously they were in family groups. -Craig and 
 Lucy Penwin stood side by side, with Tarleton clutching 
 his big brother's coat sleeve. Joe Darrow had crowded 
 up against Elliot. In front and between the two groups 
 stood Beth. Joe and Tarley still held their grapevine 
 trailing on the ground behind all of them. 
 
 Mark never forgot that picture. One day long after 
 ward, it came back to him with wonderful vividness. 
 The laughing eyes and teasing words, the pretty girlish 
 face of Lucy Penwin, and Beth with her golden hair, 
 Joe and Tarley joined by the grapevine tie, and Craig 
 and Elliot on either side of the girl who was to be 
 more and more in their thoughts in the coming years 
 the ten years of trouble of which the stranger had 
 warned them. 
 
 The place grew suddenly lonely. The sun was low in 
 the west now, and the wooded path was full of shadows. 
 The children did not care to wait for the horsemen in 
 the ravine to appear again on the Trail. After all, they 
 were not sure who these men might be, and with all 
 their joking, what Mark had told them made the woods 
 seem different. 
 
 They had left the edge of the height and were in the 
 heavier timber on their homeward way, when a cry a 
 long, sharp cry of fear cut the stillness of the plains. 
 It came from the ravine near the Hole in the Rock. 
 Up on the wooded places it sounded only faintly to the 
 ears of the young people, and they had no definite notion 
 of the direction whence it came. So they only hurried 
 on their way.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 THE HOLE IN THE ROCK 
 
 I hate the dreadful hollow behind the little wood, 
 Its lips in the field below are dabbled with blood-red heath; 
 
 The red-ribbed ledges drip with a silent horror of blood, 
 And Echo there, whatever is asked her, answers, " Death. " 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 THE ravine seemed only a little crack across the 
 landscape. Low timber-tops marked its way, green 
 in the summer, black in the winter, from an insignificant 
 beginning in the southwest to where it falls into the 
 wooded bottoms of the Wakarusa. The Trail narrowed 
 at the crossing, slipping down suddenly from the open 
 slope to the shaded hollow, and up again by a short climb 
 to the rougher-rolling prairie on the west. Save in spots, 
 the stream was small and shallow, but the whole length 
 of the ravine was full of rocky places, darkened path 
 ways and uncertain pools. Among these, the " Hole in 
 the Rock," an ugly, black, still thing, lay so darkly 
 shadowed, it might almost have escaped the eye of a 
 stranger. Once seen, however, it was not easily forgot 
 ten. It was full thirty feet deep, and cruelly smooth, 
 reminding one of nothing else so much as the lidless eye 
 of a motionless snake watching its victim. 
 
 Colonel Boniface Penwin sat on a red roan horse beside 
 the Trail crossing, looking steadily at the waters beyond. 
 They seemed to be rocking slowly as from some disturb 
 ance. A bubble whitened on the surface and vanished. 
 Then more bubbles came from somewhere deep down, 
 
 14
 
 THE HOLE IN THE ROCK 15 
 
 slowly one by one, as from a settling misplacement 
 underneath, until at last the dull waters found their level 
 and held it. 
 
 Colonel Penwin sat a horse well. He was of robust 
 frame, and in his every motion there was the hint of 
 the well-bred military man and Southern gentleman. His 
 features were regular and handsome, and the abundance 
 of light, auburn hair, worn a trifle long, gave a distin 
 guished touch to his appearance. Just now his face was 
 set in stern lines ; his cheeks above his auburn beard were 
 stone-hued, and his gray eyes were like circles of gray 
 steel. 
 
 The last bubble on the pool had vanished into thin 
 air as David Lamond and Hiram Darrow rode into the 
 ravine. Both men were plainly dressed, after the man 
 ner of the first settlers of the prairies. The former car 
 ried a shotgun on his saddle bow, the latter was unarmed. 
 Lamond. was a well-built man, with the physique the 
 frontier requires. A fair-haired Scotchman, with an hon 
 est face, a firm mouth, and a muscular fist. It would be 
 easy guessing where to find him in the battles of his 
 day. He had been born on the old headland of Ard- 
 lamond, in Scotland. The strength of the bitter northern 
 clime was in his blood ; the readiness to fight for a just 
 cause was in his brawny arm ; while bluntness of speech, 
 hatred of a lie, tenacity to a conviction, shrewdness in 
 reading men's purposes, and unyielding faith in the 
 power of God omnipotent all were his ; and with these, 
 the tender love of old Scotch traditions and faithfulness 
 to the land of his birth had given him high notions of 
 loyalty, and made the Stars and Stripes now the symbol 
 of his supremest duty and power. 
 
 He had heard the call of Kansas for Free-State set 
 tlers, when it became a Territory, and leaving his pic-
 
 16 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 turesque home and Scotch neighbors in the beautiful 
 Alleghany Mountain region of Pennsylvania, had hur 
 ried hither in answer to that call. Small matter to him 
 that in these open, rolling prairies there was nothing 
 suggestive of the home life and associations of Pennsyl 
 vania. He struck root easily in any soil, not from a 
 fickle inconstancy, but because of his firm sense of 
 loyalty, that knew no law of locality. 
 
 Hiram Darrow might at first seem out of place in 
 the harshness of the frontier settlements. Imprinted on 
 his scholarly face were dignity of thought, self-possession, 
 and courage. And with these the inheritance of a long 
 line of Quaker ancestry had bred in him a gentleness of 
 manner, a power void of violence. The Call of the West 
 had been a spiritual voice to him, bidding him cast his 
 strength, not for the flag alone, but for the larger free 
 dom of the human race. 
 
 The characterization of these two men Mark Darrow 
 had summed up once in the declaration : 
 
 "David Lamond wouldn't begin any row, but he 
 would n't wait to be hit before he got in a big lick him 
 self; but when the dust settled at last, I'll bet if any 
 man was standing solid on his own two feet it would be 
 my daddy." 
 
 " And I 'm just like both of 'em," the boy usually added, 
 with Elliot finishing: 
 
 "Plus the cussedness you get from the Lord knows 
 where, and your hotheaded foolishness." 
 
 These two men were types of the real State-builders 
 of the West. Small space is given to such types in 
 history, for history has space only for dramatic climaxes 
 of events. 
 
 On the threshold of Kansas these two settlers, thrown 
 together by mere chance, with others of like mettle from
 
 THE HOLE IN THE ROCK 17 
 
 New England and Ohio, had found their cause await 
 ing them. Boniface Penwin, their nearest neighbor, had 
 at first been friendly, after the frontier fashion. With 
 the passing of the summer, however, his contempt for 
 what he had first termed harmless Yankee fanatics was 
 changing to a wholesome respect and a growing hatred 
 that awaited only the arrival of others of his breed, or the 
 lining up of political parties to touch to explosion. For, 
 with his native courtesy and good breeding, Penwin was 
 a man of quick, violent passions. 
 
 Meanwhile, the growing friendship of the children of 
 the three families, transplanted in this lonely new land, 
 had helped somewhat to hold back the inevitable moment 
 of disruption. That moment, following the journey of 
 the three to Lawrence, this October day was destined 
 to bring. 
 
 The two men approached the crossing and reined in 
 their horses opposite the Colonel. 
 
 " Good evening, Penwin," Lamond greeted him. " You 
 didn't stay to the election. Somebody at the Eldridge 
 House, Merriford, I believe it was, said you had gone 
 across the Kaw to the Delaware Reservation. You 
 missed getting an office, I am sure. Darrow and I are 
 both delegates to the Topeka convention." 
 
 The Colonel's face was still gray and changeless, as 
 he replied: 
 
 " I went up to Leavenworth. My business was 
 important." 
 
 "Been getting a new horse?" Lamond asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I traded for him, coming home," Penwin 
 answered, carelessly. 
 
 "Thee traded for that horse coming from Leaven- 
 worth?" Hiram Darrow spoke, slowly. "What did thee 
 offer by way of trade?"
 
 18 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 " Oh, I gave the bay colt," the Colonel said. 
 
 "Any boot go with it?" queried Darrow. 
 
 Colonel Penwin's eyes burned. 
 
 " Now, see here, Darrow, you think I stole this horse, 
 don't you? I '11 be " He did not finish the sentence. 
 
 Lamond and Darrow exchanged glances. 
 
 "Go on, Penwin. Thee has something more on thy 
 mind. Why not say it now? I don't think thee stole 
 that horse. Does thee think thee did?" 
 
 The gray hue was swept from Penwin's face by a 
 fierce anger flame, and his eyes took on the color of the 
 Hole in the Rock, but his sense of courtesy controlled 
 him still as he spoke. 
 
 " Gentlemen, we may as well end this farce now. Last 
 April we found ourselves neighbors in the wilderness 
 here. One of you came from a little Quaker town in 
 Indiana and the other from further east. There are 
 twenty claims of land taken up now, where there was 
 only one six months ago. Next spring will see a hundred 
 for every twenty this fall. I don't care what brings you 
 nor any other man to this new Territory, but, before God, 
 I had only one purpose in coming from Georgia to 
 Kansas." 
 
 There was a slight rustling in the bushes beyond the 
 black pool, and a single bubble rose to the surface and 
 hung there like a clear, menacing eye in the darkness. 
 
 "I came here just as I know hundreds of other men 
 are coming now and will keep on coming to make 
 this a land of liberty for gentlemen, where they can 
 control their own possessions, and extend the great 
 industrial institution of slavery without any Yankee 
 interference. And, by the God in heaven, there is no 
 power that can prevent them. These prairies are going 
 to be tilled by black hands, and white hands will own
 
 THE HOLE IN THE ROCK 19 
 
 and direct them. And they will always do it. Under 
 the old English law a man's property is his own just as 
 much as his soul is his own, and the sooner these fool 
 stupid Yankees learn that, the better it will be for 
 them." 
 
 Lamond's eyes were flashing, and his square jaws set 
 like a vise. 
 
 "There is no use mincing words, gentlemen," the 
 Colonel went on. "We have been peaceful neighbors 
 these few months we have known each other, and I have 
 liked you fellows well as neighbors. But this Territory 
 and its concerns are stronger than any neighborhood 
 business. Human rights are the biggest interests of any 
 nation. I didn't go up to Lawrence to have any part 
 in that election of delegates. I knew you would be 
 chosen. And you will go to the Topeka convention next 
 week for just one thing to make a State Constitution 
 that will keep slaveholders from coming into Kansas, to 
 make a State hide-bound by sectional tyrants who want 
 to own all these fair prairies themselves. I 'm here, gen 
 tlemen, to establish my right to own niggers, and I'm 
 going to do it. Neighbor or stranger, I tell you now, 
 I '11 send the first man to hell who tries to stop me. And 
 I won't know a damned abolitionist from any other dead 
 man, either." 
 
 The gray color had come back to Penwin's coun 
 tenance again, and his every muscle was tense. Lamond 
 clutched hard on the butt of his shotgun; but Darrow, 
 leaning forward carelessly, combed out his horse's mane 
 with his fingers. 
 
 "Is that all?" he asked, quietly. 
 
 "Well, isn't it enough for you to see just where you 
 are? Don't say I didn't warn you, and go whining 
 that you didn't understand when the issue comes, as it
 
 20 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 will come, damned soon. And I can settle our part of it 
 with you fellows any minute you want to do it." 
 
 Penwin's voice rose to a shout. There was a savage 
 venom in his eyes as he finished, and he sat as if ready 
 to spring to action. But Darrow only lifted his hand in 
 gentle motion. 
 
 " I am not afraid of thee, Penwin. I ask for no mercy. 
 I'll measure chances with thee any day. Human rights 
 are a nation's biggest interest. That 's why I am an abo 
 litionist, and that is just why I came to Kansas." Dar- 
 row's face was serene and void of fear. 
 
 Colonel Penwin's hands twitched as if held back from 
 the Quaker's throat. And Lamond, with both fists 
 clenched, now burst out : 
 
 " We knew you were a Southern sympathizer, Penwin, 
 but we mistook you for a gentleman. If you think 
 you can settle this question here, and want to fight, 
 come on. You and all your kind will find us ready 
 for you." 
 
 He leaped the crossing at a bound, but Darrow, follow 
 ing quickly, wheeled the white horse between the black 
 and the roan. 
 
 " Do questions of state rest on a struggle between two 
 or three men in a lonely ravine in Kansas?" he asked. 
 " Don't fight till thee must, David." 
 
 " When would you fight, you coward ? " Penwin hissed 
 out the question. 
 
 " Never," answered Darrow, " and I may be living here 
 in a peaceful land untainted by slavery, black or white, 
 when thee and thy kind are overcome. But if I perish, 
 I perish. Beyond me lies an issue larger than the interest 
 of any single man. It must triumph." 
 
 " God grant it," came a fervent voice from beyond the 
 three, and a man on horseback, the same man whom the
 
 "Don't fight till thee must, David"
 
 THE HOLE IN THE ROCK 21 
 
 children on the bluff had directed hither, appeared sud 
 denly in the Trail. 
 
 The three men turned at his words, and Penwin hastily 
 backed his horse to the farther side of the stream, leaving 
 this man with the other two on the hither side. The 
 last rays of the October sunset smote through the tree- 
 tops, filling the upper air with a golden gray light. Down 
 in the ravine the warm languor of the afternoon had 
 given place to the evening's chill, and the shadows were 
 gathering thick about the Hole in the Rock. 
 
 Lined up on either side of the little thread of waters 
 were the forces that stood that day for a nation-wide 
 conflict. On the one hand was the Southern settler, 
 strong, defiant, sure of himself and of his possession of 
 power, dogged in his determination to sweep every 
 obstacle from his way, however brutal the force might 
 be that did it. Yet there was something imposing about 
 him. To himself his cause was just. He was no mere 
 highway ruffian. He had come to the West to make 
 Kansas a Slave Territory, to build Empire broadly 
 according to his own conception of breadth. It troubled 
 him nothing that in this State-building, human life must 
 run cheap and broken hearts and tortured bodies must 
 be piled into the trenches of its foundations. Under other 
 skies he might not have been by nature cold-blooded and 
 brutal; but the sure heritage of a slave-ridden land is 
 not more in the curse of bondage to the enslaved than 
 in the curse of warped spiritual natures and brutalized 
 sensibilities, and degraded ideals in the enslavers. 
 
 On the hither side of the stream three men sat still 
 on their horses facing Colonel Penwin: David Lamond, 
 the fighting Scotchman; Hiram Darrow, the Quaker; 
 and this stranger, whose eyes saw only tragedy, whose 
 soul was bounding on to victory.
 
 22 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Even in the stillness of the moment these men on either 
 side of the little water run, intent on each other, failed 
 to note the crackling of twigs beyond them and the 
 faint rasp of a button or bead against a stone. In that 
 moment a black face with staring eyes of terror and hate 
 peered through the bushes overhanging the Hole in the 
 Rock. An instant only and then a gray, green foliage 
 settled above the waters. At the same time, around the 
 bare, black rock-shelf above the crossing, another face 
 showed itself for a moment, as a beaded moccasin scraped 
 the tight crevice of the uncertain foothold; a coppery 
 face, with cold, black eyes, fearless, and still as the 
 pool below. 
 
 The stranger was the first to speak. 
 
 "This is Hiram Darrow, and this is David Lamond. 
 Am I right?" he queried. 
 
 The men nodded assent. 
 
 "And this is Colonel Boniface Penwin, late of 
 Georgia." 
 
 Penwin did not reply, but sat looking straight at the 
 questioner. 
 
 " Never mind," the man went on, " I knew of you 
 before I came here. My business was with these two 
 on this side of the water, but I'll make it my business 
 to tell you, Boniface Penwin, that though the day of 
 God's judgment and God's vengeance may seem long 
 in coming, it will come; though you and your kind may 
 believe you can control the West, and plant it, and reap 
 it with the toil of black human chattels, fettered feet 
 shall never walk these prairies, nor shackled hands be 
 lifted in prayer for deliverance under these free skies. 
 And this shall never be a slave-ridden State, though every 
 Kansas stream run red with human blood, and every 
 black pool of water hold a human corpse."
 
 THE HOLE IN THE ROCK 23 
 
 Was there a low moan of fear and agony somewhere 
 in the shadows, down the water way, or was it only the 
 sighing of the wind in the ravine? On the dull surface 
 of the Hole in the Rock two ghastly white bubbles with 
 a little streak of white foam close under them suggested 
 a dark face with staring eyes and white, grinning teeth. 
 Only Penwin saw this, however, and the heart of the 
 Sphinx was scarce colder than his own still heart as 
 he gazed. 
 
 Lamond and Darrow saw only the speaker's face illu 
 mined with a strange power. They heard nothing but his 
 steady voice, under whose tone ran a minor chord of 
 tragedy. 
 
 " I heard you state your purpose in coming here, Pen- 
 win," he continued, "and I know from your Southern 
 States an army of slave drivers is heading this way to 
 join another army across the border here. They are 
 coming to trample down everything before them. No 
 man, nor woman, nor child will be sacred to them. All 
 human life will be as trash for their plunder. The sys 
 tem of slavery makes such beasts out of men. And they 
 count on their numbers and their brutal power to win 
 the day. But they will not win. In the old Hebrew 
 times, the Lord promised to be a wall of fire round about 
 his people. There '11 be no wall of fire here, but a wall 
 of men on this frontier, standing up in the strength of 
 God Almighty, will be round about the State of Kansas 
 and build into it the eternal right of human liberty. And 
 to this building I give myself, even my life." 
 
 "And I." 
 
 "And I." 
 
 Darrow and Lamond responded reverently. 
 
 The bubbles went where all bubbles go. The foam was 
 only little scattered white flecks now. The dark water
 
 24 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 was glassy in the last beams of the sunset, the bushes 
 were still, the stone ledges gave out no rasping sound. 
 
 Across the stream Colonel Penwin was himself again. 
 
 " I will not waste time with fanatics," he said, in a low 
 voice. " When the crisis comes, ask no quarter of me, for 
 I shall not know what you mean. As for you, stranger, 
 you'll fight your last battle on the gallows-tree and fall 
 from it into an infamous grave." 
 
 "If I have but fought for the freedom of my fellow 
 men, I shall care little for the last bar over which I 
 struggle into eternity." 
 
 Penwin wheeled his horse at these words and dashed 
 up the steep slope of the ravine. The other three climbed 
 up the east bank and followed the Trail toward the 
 wooded bluff, 
 
 "Will thee come home with me, stranger?" queried 
 Darrow. 
 
 " Yes, for the night," the man replied. 
 
 " Come over after supper, Lamond, and let us talk of 
 these matters. The very air is full of trouble," Darrow 
 went on, as a cold autumn breeze came sweeping out 
 of the far west. 
 
 Lamond assented, and soon separated from them to 
 follow the by-trail to his own holding. 
 
 Down in the ravine a fleet-footed Delaware Indian, 
 keeping close in the shadows, slipped noiseless up the 
 stream ; while, creeping from one hiding-place to another, 
 a huge African, with gleaming eyes and thumping heart, 
 followed the downward course of the waters.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 DARRARAT" 
 
 Give me men to match my mountains, 
 Give me men to match my plains; 
 
 Men with empires in their bosoms, 
 Men with eras in their brains. 
 
 THE western sky was still roseate with the after- 
 sunset glow, and the purple east was deepening in 
 the autumn twilight, when Hiram Darrow and his new 
 acquaintance climbed the slope to the Darrow home. It 
 stood on a swell overlooking the Vinland Valley. A 
 clump of evergreens sheltered it round about. Although 
 six months before there had been here only virgin prairie, 
 already there were many tokens of a thrifty, permanent 
 abiding-place. Like the oasis to the desert-sick traveler, 
 it seemed a haven to the stranger journeying hither 
 for the first time, heartsick for the comforts of the 
 home-life back in the States. Built of logs, it was in 
 reality four little cabins set near enough together to 
 leave roofed hallways running between each two, and 
 meeting in the center in a roomy opening large enough 
 for the family gathering together. Where the kitchen 
 cabin cornered into this space the stone chimney was 
 built, serving on its two sides the double purpose of 
 cooking-place in the kitchen and a wide fireplace in the 
 hall. 
 
 Above this central open space the boys had built a 
 rude sort of tower cornering against the chimney, with 
 
 25
 
 26 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 windows swinging in on stout leather hinges fastened 
 at the top. A rough shelf two feet wide, formed by logs 
 above, made a good place for an outlook. And here 
 Mark had constructed a narrow seat where he could sit 
 and watch the surrounding country as he chose. These 
 windows served also to give light and ventilation to the 
 space about the fireplace below. The tower was reached 
 only by climbing the log angle of one of the cabin 
 rooms cornering below it. But climbing was a part of 
 Mark's business in life. He had christened the nook 
 " Darrarat," which he said was short for Darrow 
 " Ararat," and it was his lookout for the Dove of Peace 
 if it ever found an olive-branch to bring Kansasward. 
 
 About this cabin home the morning-glory vines were 
 still green, and little patches of bluegrass in one Sum 
 mer had already encroached on the untamed domain of 
 the prairie sod. The firelight gleamed warm and rosy 
 through the south windows, a welcome beacon to the two 
 men far down the Trail, who caught its glow twinkling 
 through the evergreens. 
 
 " Ship ahoy ! " cried Mark from his outlook up in his 
 "Darrarat." "Joe, tell mother I see two suspicious- 
 looking characters approaching stealthily from the west. 
 By their mysterious actions they must be intending to 
 raid this castle. Hustle, Joe ! " 
 
 Joe made a rush for the door, shouting toward the 
 kitchen cabin, " Mother, Mother, Mark says father's 
 coming ! " 
 
 Isabel Darrow stood in the doorway and watched the 
 two men riding homeward in the purple shadows of eve 
 ning. The soft, west light illumined her face and touched 
 to clearer outline the setting in which she made a picture 
 fair to see. For she was a beautiful woman, with the 
 lasting matronly beauty of a madonna. Her heavy, dark
 
 "DARRARAT" 27 
 
 hair, parted and combed smoothly away from her fore 
 head, lay in soft folds about her head, giving it Greek 
 outlines rather than Quaker plainness. Her eyes were 
 large and dark. The roses in one Kansas Summer had 
 not faded from her cheeks, and her smile was irresistible. 
 Not often does the charm of girlhood become so strongly 
 the heritage of womanhood. But back of Nature's gifts 
 to this Quaker woman was the larger heritage of brain 
 and heart, combined with the vigor only good health can 
 sustain. With such a woman at his hearthstone, it was 
 easy to understand why Hiram Darrow could face the 
 future hopefully in this new, frontier home-building. 
 
 " Here we are, Isabel," was her husband's greeting as, 
 with his stranger companion, he entered the hall. " This 
 is a friend I found down the Trail. Thee will welcome 
 him for the night, dearie." 
 
 "What is thy name?" asked Isabel, smiling, and 
 extending her hand. 
 
 " My name is John Brown," said the stranger. " I shall 
 be glad to spend the night here, for I have much to say 
 to your husband." 
 
 "Thee is very welcome. Come, Hiram, the supper is 
 ready, and the boys are hungry." 
 
 Mark was the last to reach the table. As he sat down, 
 his eyes sought John Brown's in one long gaze. A 
 shiver of fear shook Isabel Darrow she did not know 
 why. Some faint sense of coming ill, too fleeting to 
 fasten in memory, possessed her for the moment. 
 
 In the early Quaker homes the younger members 
 entered little into the conversation of their elders. The 
 boys in the Darrow household listened eagerly, but said 
 nothing at the supper table that night, while their father 
 and mother talked with their guest. When the meal was 
 ended, Mark and Joe were the first to leave the kitchen.
 
 28 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "Children should be seen and not heard. Run in 
 there, Joey dear, and let 'em look at thee, but don't thee 
 cheep, little chickie." Mark pushed Joe before him into 
 the hall as the others rose from the table. 
 
 "My job is to hear, if I am not heard; and to see, 
 when I am not seen," he declared further, as he heaped 
 wood on the smoldering fire on the hearthstone. 
 
 As the flames leaped up and the shadows flared about 
 the corners, Joe, tired from his long tramp of the after 
 noon, dropped into his chair in the corner, forgetting to 
 note which way Mark had headed with his last words. 
 Joe would be asleep in five minutes, for that was what 
 night meant to him. 
 
 There was only one topic discussed in Kansas in those 
 days: Territorial settlement and the right to the balance 
 of power at the ballot box. Every month saw the incom 
 ing of new settlers, whose opinions on this topic was the 
 first census taken in the Territory. Already invaders 
 from across the eastern border had come with mob vio 
 lence to control political elections. Three-fourths of all 
 the ballots at these elections had been cast by men who 
 never intended to make a home nor claim a citizenship 
 in Kansas. They came only for the day, to vote into 
 power the men and measures that should fasten a South 
 ern institution upon a land, regardless of the rights and 
 wishes of those to whom the land belonged. In these 
 days of peace and justice, and broader views and forgot 
 ten prejudices, and the buried bitterness of hatreds, the 
 tragic reality and sweet romance and sublime heroism of 
 that day of State-building seem only as a tale that is 
 told. By the flickering hearth fire in the little Darrow 
 home, that long ago October night, it was a very real and 
 present problem, fraught with all the grief and danger
 
 " D A R R A R A T " 29 
 
 and cruel outrage of justice crucified, that made each 
 day of those early years a day of historic worth. 
 
 John Brown sat long in silence, gazing at the leaping 
 flames and glowing embers. On either side of the hearth 
 sat Hiram and Isabel Darrow. Little Joe nodded in the 
 corner, and forgot all his troubles in the drowsy 
 warmth. 
 
 "Mother, I'm going over to Lamond's," Elliot said, 
 softly, coming behind his mother's chair, and placing 
 a hand gently on her shoulder. "I have all thy dishes 
 washed. Mark, the lazy dog, never put his head inside 
 the kitchen since he broke out of here with Joe. He can 
 take his turn to-morrow." Elliot smiled down on his 
 mother, and with a gentle good-by gesture, slipped away. 
 
 Outside of the door he caught sight of a shadow that 
 swung quickly behind a cedar tree. He leaped after it, 
 but whatever had made it was too swift for him, and the 
 night breeze sweeping up the slope bent all the dark 
 evergreens before it and swung fantastic shadows in the 
 moonlight. Elliot stood still a moment, doubting that 
 he had seen anything but the wind-drifted shade of the 
 cedar, when a lull in the breeze showed his quick eye a 
 dark form only a few feet away. It fled so quickly that 
 it seemed at first to melt into the evergreens, and then, 
 like a flash, it passed beyond the corner of the house. 
 
 The game was interesting now, and Elliot searched 
 every shaded spot and watched each evergreen shrub. 
 
 "Mark; hello, Mark," he called, "I'll give it up." 
 
 But no Mark appeared, and a slight noise caught his 
 ear. A foot on wood somewhere. Elliot looked in every 
 direction. 
 
 "All right, Mark, you will-o'-the-wisp, I'm going to 
 quit now ; good-by ! " and whistling a little strain of an
 
 30 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 old love song he strode away in the moonlight toward 
 the cabin home of David Lamond. 
 
 Inside the Darrow cabin John Brown was the first to 
 speak. 
 
 " Hiram Darrow, there is only one issue in our Nation 
 to-day. It centers here in Kansas. There is only one 
 thing to do, and that is to meet this issue. There is only 
 one way to meet it." 
 
 The speaker lifted his eyes from the flaming wood, and 
 gazed upward, raising his big right hand as he spoke. 
 The firelight fell full on his face. It was not a brutal 
 nor stupid face. No line of hatred marked it, no dull 
 blood-lust bleared the clear vision. But a sense of 
 prophetic, irresistible power dwelt around the temples 
 and set the stern lips. 
 
 "There is only one way to meet it," the speaker 
 repeated. "The stain of sin must be washed out with 
 human blood." 
 
 "God forbid!" exclaimed Hiram Darrow. "Did not 
 the Christ come to bring peace on earth?" 
 
 " He came not to bring peace, but a sword. He said it 
 himself to the people of his time. Darrow, why did you 
 come here if you do not mean to make this a free land? " 
 
 " I stand for the freedom that saves life, not destroys 
 it. That's why I am here. Thee cannot build up life 
 on death, friend Brown. The mills of the gods grind 
 slowly, but the grist must be golden, not tainted with 
 human gore." 
 
 " You will wait till the Judgment Day before you save 
 this Territory without bloodshed," ejaculated Brown. 
 
 " That's what we ought to wait for," calmly replied the 
 Quaker. "'Vengeance is mine, I will repay,' saith the 
 Lord." 
 
 "Yes, yes; but there are chosen instruments, vessels
 
 "DARK A RAT" 31 
 
 of the temple. I am afraid that you Quaker people are 
 not the people who will move the world." 
 
 There was a note of impatience in Brown's voice. 
 
 " Maybe not, maybe not, but we anchor it somewhat, 
 with an anchor both sure and steadfast." 
 
 The burning logs fell apart, and Darrow, standing to 
 push the pieces together, caught a faint, tapping sound at 
 the south window. 
 
 " It is only Mark's cat," said Isabel. " I '11 let her in 
 the kitchen. Come, Joe, thee must go to bed." 
 
 Little Joe wabbled off, half asleep, to his cot beside his 
 mother's bed, and Mrs. Darrow, after setting things to 
 rights, opened the kitchen door to let in the big tabby 
 cat Mark had brought with them all the way from 
 Indiana. Outside there was a glory of October moon 
 light, and the night had lost the first promise of evening 
 chill. A sweet, bracing breeze blew up from the south, 
 and the whole Vinland Valley swam in a silver radiance 
 touched here and there with purple shadows, and over 
 all brooded the sweet serenity of the heavens, crystal 
 clear and exquisitely lovely. 
 
 Far down the white Trail, two figures were moving 
 swiftly along. But before she had time to note them, 
 a dark form loomed up between her and the moonlit 
 Trail, and a huge negro stepped toward the doorway. In 
 the soft light Mrs. Darrow's face shone fair and fearless, 
 and her smile was as sweet as her words were genial. 
 
 "How does thee do? I thought it was the cat I 
 heard. Will thee come in?" 
 
 The man made one step toward the door, then, stop 
 ping, he bowed courteously, after the fashion of the 
 Southern negro. 
 
 "I don't think I dare" he hesitated "I is a free 
 man, I is not a slave, but I is not wanted here. I would
 
 32 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 make trouble for you all. But I is so hungry. If you 
 all give me some supper, I '11 go on." His vc'ce had the 
 musical African softness, but his words came slowly, 
 and there was fear in his very tone. 
 
 "Come in, thee is welcome here," and Isabel Darrow 
 led the way into the little kitchen. " Sit down and wait 
 a minute. Thee must be tired. Where did thee come 
 from?" 
 
 She was setting out food, cold meat, corn bread, a 
 little butter and molasses, and over the fire the coffee 
 pot was beginning to send out its own fragrant welcome 
 to the hungry, when the voices of the men came through 
 the half-closed door. 
 
 " I tell you, Darrow, no negro's life is safe here, nor 
 anywhere North or South, and the curse of the Almighty 
 will plague this land with famine and fire and 
 sword." 
 
 The black man in the kitchen leaped toward the door. 
 His teeth chattered and his eyes gleamed. 
 
 " Give me just one bite, and I 's gone. Thank you all, 
 dat coffee" how appetizing a plague that drink can 
 be "Dat do smell good." 
 
 "Thee is safe here. Thee is hungry. Thee must eat 
 something." 
 
 By the flaring candle-light that little cabin held a pic 
 ture only a master's hand could paint. The great, dark 
 form before the doorway, with hunger-gaunt face and 
 staring eyes, the strength of a giant in his muscular 
 arm, the weakness of a child in his simple mind and over 
 whelming fear, and beyond him, in the uncertain light, 
 the sweet-faced Quaker woman, calm, fearless, smiling 
 kindly, with the unconscious grace of her womanhood 
 like a garment about her, and a power of mind and 
 voice the only real power that controls men.
 
 "DARRARAT" 33 
 
 "Sit down, friend. Thee need not be afraid in this 
 house." 
 
 The hand, reaching for the offered food, shook vio 
 lently, and the face was swept by a wave of fear. 
 
 "Are you, 'fore God, sure I's safe, lady?" he begged, 
 
 " I '11 show thee how safe." 
 
 She stepped into the hall. "Come, Father, here is a 
 poor black man in the kitchen." 
 
 Darrow and Brown hurried in. 
 
 " He is afraid to eat his supper here," Isabel explained. 
 
 John Brown strode across the room and took the 
 negro's hand in his. A look of recognition passed 
 between the two. 
 
 "What's your name?" he asked. 
 
 " Jupe, just Jupe, is all." The white teeth gleamed in 
 a grin, with the quick change from fear to unconcern so 
 characteristic to the race. 
 
 " Well, eat your supper, Jupe, and then get to Lawrence 
 as fast as you can, and stay there." 
 
 " If I kin find Mars'r Merriford up to Lawrence I sure 
 stay whar he is," and the negro fell to eating like a 
 ravenous dog. 
 
 " How far have you traveled, Jupe? " Darrow asked. 
 
 A look of shrewd cunning lit Jupe's eye as he answered, 
 guardedly: "Oh, from a good ways; an' I ain't nevah 
 gwine back to measure hit off no more. No, sah. I's 
 traveled a mighty sight, for I 's a Norf and Souf nigga', 
 bofe, an' I don't tell all I knows, neither." 
 
 There was a rapping at the front door and Darrow left 
 the kitchen. John Brown, by the window, was looking 
 out toward the Vinland Valley. 
 
 Mrs. Darrow had turned away to pour a second cup of 
 coffee. Jupe, unconscious of the light behind him, made 
 a stride toward the hall, unnoticed by the two in the
 
 34 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 kitchen; and, leaning through the door, peered with 
 frightened eyes after his host. The voice of Craig Pen- 
 win came through the open south door. 
 
 "Are the boys here?" 
 
 "Isabel, where is Elliot?" his father called from the 
 doorway. 
 
 " He went over to Lamond's," answered Isabel as she 
 came into the hall. " Mark is in bed and asleep, I sup 
 pose. He was off right after supper. I '11 call him," and 
 she called down the dark hall, but no answer came from 
 Mark. 
 
 " Never mind, Mrs. Darrow," Craig said, courteously ; 
 "good-night, sir," and he was gone. 
 
 As he left the front door Jupe slipped through the 
 kitchen door and became only a part of the black shad 
 ows outside. Half way down the slope Craig saw two 
 men who had turned from the Trail toward the cabin. 
 He stepped among the evergreen shadows and waited 
 their coming. 
 
 " I may as well see what 's going on up here," he said 
 to himself. "There was a nigger in the kitchen if that 
 candle light didn't lie, and here come two men. Looks 
 interesting, only I hope father has no hand in it." A 
 sadness crept into the proud face for the moment. " Well, 
 here's David Lamond and an Indian. What can all 
 this mean?" A fear seized him. "There is nothing but 
 trouble in this place." 
 
 He waited until the two men had passed into the 
 house, then, keeping close to the shadows, he crept 
 round to the west window and cautiously peered in. He 
 could see the group around the fire, but could not hear 
 their words. The Indian, half in shadow, sat in silence, 
 while the other men talked eagerly. 
 
 " My, but Elliot's mother is a pretty woman, and Elliot
 
 "DARRARAT" 35 
 
 looks just like her, the scamp. I wonder where Mark 
 is. Not in bed, I '11 bet a horse." 
 
 The longer he looked the stronger became his curiosity 
 to hear what was being so vehemently discussed. It was 
 more the eager curiosity of youth than any base motive 
 that prompted Craig Penwin here. 
 
 "If I was up above there I could hear all they say. 
 I believe I '11 try it. The boys have fixed little windows 
 that open up there. Elliot and I got in through one of 
 them once when the house was locked and the folks 
 were away." 
 
 Inside the cabin Lamond was talking excitedly. 
 
 "This is the Delaware, White Turkey, we saw in 
 Lawrence, Darrow; you remember Merriford told us 
 about him. He says he followed us nearly to the ravine 
 because he has reasons to think we are in danger. He 
 turned aside because he couldn't overtake us in time. 
 There 's something wrong somewhere. He came to our 
 house this evening and wanted me to come up here 
 with him to warn you. White Turkey, tell the men 
 what is on your mind." 
 
 Isabel Darrow, who had sat quietly during all this 
 time, suddenly spoke : " Hiram, we have seen this Indian 
 before. Did n't thee come here one night last April, cold, 
 and wet, and hungry, when we had just finished this 
 house?" 
 
 She had turned to the Indian. White Turkey's face 
 did not change as he answered gravely: 
 
 " Me cold, wet, hungry, over there," pointing toward 
 the south. "Me ask Penwin, Georgia man, him let me 
 stay by horses in stable. Him send me off in dark, not 
 let me stay away over there," pointing southward again 
 toward Colonel Penwin's home. " Me come here ; white 
 woman say come in. Give White Turkey meat. Give
 
 36 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 coffee. Let White Turkey sleep there," pointing toward 
 the kitchen, "by warm fire. White Turkey not forget. 
 While winds blow and Wakarusa runs down to Kaw, 
 White Turkey not forget." 
 
 "But now, what about this matter to-day?" queried 
 Darrow. "Of course, we wouldn't let thee suffer for 
 anything if we could help it. Tell us about this business 
 now." 
 
 White Turkey looked steadily at John Brown. 
 
 "Who? "he queried. 
 
 " A friend of humanity. Thee need not fear," answered 
 Hiram. "Go on, do." 
 
 White Turkey deliberated. 
 
 "We are all friends all of one mind," declared 
 Lamond. " Tell us anything that concerns us." 
 
 "White Turkey me," pointing to himself, "hear 
 Colonel Penwin talk big talk in Eldridge House. When 
 he slips across the Kaw River at midnight, over to Dela 
 ware's wigwam, me know him quick. He come to 
 Delaware house, he offer big money if Delawares go help 
 him stop men in ravine by Hole in the Rock. Say he 
 want to meet them near where Trail cross by Hole in 
 the Rock. Say men bad and kill somebody. Say he 
 show Delawares how to stop men if they go. Delawares 
 poor; want money. Indians not rich like Colonel Pen- 
 win. Delawares say they go. Penwin hurry away. 
 White Turkey speak then. Tell Delaware brothers 
 Quaker man and woman good to White Turkey. Penwin 
 drive me away in cold and dark and wet, hungry. Maybe 
 men Penwin after Quaker men. Shall Delaware braves 
 help Penwin? No " with a wave of his hand the 
 Indian ceased. 
 
 "And so you really did follow us, did you? You 
 thought we would get in trouble?" asked Lamond.
 
 " D A R R A R A T " 37 
 
 " White Turkey not want you to meet by Hole in the 
 Rock; not know sure what men Penwin want to meet 
 there." 
 
 "What became of your horse?" asked Lamond. 
 
 The Indian only shook his head in response. 
 
 "Can't you tell us that?" Lamond put the question 
 carefully. 
 
 " No " and White Turkey had closed his straight, 
 thin lip like the shell of an oyster. 
 
 " Never mind now," Brown suggested. " He has told 
 us all he wants to tell; let him alone and trust him. I 
 want to talk to you about other matters, Lamond. Dar- 
 row and I differ about conditions. He thinks Kansas can 
 be saved by prayer and fasting." 
 
 "I know it cannot," the Scotchman spoke quickly. 
 "If we may believe this Indian, our foes may be our 
 nearest neighbors. There must be war to the sword 
 hilt before these prairies are free men's soil." 
 
 " It is not our own safety in a savage frontier that dis 
 turbs thee, Lamond. I know thee better than that," 
 Darrow said gently. "This Indian need not make us 
 uneasy. Our times are in God's hands. The greater 
 thing is the peril of a slave-cursed nation." 
 
 "And, by the eternal God, that peril must be met 
 violence with violence. I am ready to do my share, else 
 I should never have come here." Lamond stood up in 
 the splendid strength and vigor and courage of a hero 
 unafraid. " Our wives must take care of our homes, for 
 every man and boy must stand for or against the 
 coming tide of violence. In no other way will Kansas 
 be saved." 
 
 Isabel Darrow, on the further side of the hearthstone, 
 rose from her chair, her dark eyes burning with a strange 
 glow.
 
 38 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Thee is right, David Lamond. Before heaven, thee 
 has spoken the truth. I can do my part if I must." Her 
 voice rang sweet and clear. 
 
 "Isabel, Isabel, what does thee mean?" her husband 
 cried. 
 
 " Thee will do thy part too, Hiram ; I know thee will," 
 his wife said. 
 
 " So will we all." It was John Brown who spoke now. 
 " Men and boys, women and children, Indian and negro 
 slave. The hour will strike soon." 
 
 " I will not lift my hand against my fellow man though 
 the heavens fall." 
 
 No hint of cowardice was in Hiram Barrow's tone, no 
 quiver of fear in his white, calm face, and it would have 
 been hard to say at that moment which man might be 
 the strongest there in the wall of defence for the helpless 
 new Territory. 
 
 Craig Penwin, up on the roof, had cautiously worked 
 his way to the stone chimney, and carefully pushed in 
 the little swinging window. The moon was just above 
 him, and its white beams fell full on the brown head and 
 intent face of Mark Darrow, listening eagerly, unmind 
 ful of anything but the group about the flickering fire 
 below. It was the night of destiny for Mark.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 IN THE EVENING TIME 
 
 Together we walked in the evening time, 
 Above us the sky spread golden and clear; 
 
 And he bent his head and looked in my eyes, 
 As if he held me of all most dear. 
 Oh! it was sweet in the evening time! 
 
 BETH LAMOND and her mother sat alone in the 
 moonlit cabin. A neat little place it was, with many 
 an ingenious device for comforts that were lacking in 
 most frontier homes. Lamond had been slow in com 
 pleting his house. It was not until the mid-June after 
 his coming to the West that it was ready for use. But 
 when it was ready, it was useful. It was a stout little 
 three-roc >med stone cabin with walls almost two feet 
 thick, sheltered on the north by a high ridge and on the 
 west by a patch of thin young timber, with a wide out 
 look to the eastward, and the wooded range on the 
 south hiding the Santa Fe Trail. Whatever Lamond 
 undertook he never left half done. He had built in cup 
 boards and fixed pantry shelves. In the corner of the 
 small living-room he had made an old-fashioned settle, 
 a cozy and comfortable thing, giving the room a home 
 like feature. He had walled the tiny cellar and spread 
 the bottom with rough flat stones brought from the shelv 
 ing ledges of the ravine. On the south a quaint little 
 stone-floored porch, with broad roof held up by sup 
 ports of rough masonry, made a picturesque entrance to 
 
 39
 
 40 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the dwelling. Between the house and the stables ran a 
 rough stone pathway. At the well-curb, half way 
 between the two, was a trellis ready for next season's 
 vines. Around the house the English ivy had already 
 taken root and begun its slow growth upon the stone 
 walls and about the porch pillars. In time it would 
 become a hardy, permanent decoration in place of the 
 abundant wealth of morning-glory vines which perish 
 year by year. 
 
 Only one dwelling could be seen from this spot in 
 that autumn time ; the mere top of Mark's " Darrarat " 
 stood up in the east above a rolling bit of prairie not yet 
 taken up by homesteaders. 
 
 The October moonlight silvered all the stones, and 
 turned to deepest purple every green leaf and every 
 shadow playing about the sheltered place. Elliot Dar- 
 row whistling an old love tune, came over the prairie 
 with swinging step, straight as the crow flies, from the 
 Darrow homestead, bearing down upon the little stone 
 cabin of David Lamond. He halted at the vine-decked 
 porch long enough to catch the lacey play of light and 
 shade across the stone floor. He was still whistling 
 softly, although he did not know it, and his footstep 
 was lighter on the stones before the doorway. His dark 
 eyes were full of tender light, and the quiet beauty of 
 the evening held him in its spell. 
 
 "Listen, Beth, there is somebody outside." Mrs. 
 Lamond spoke in a low tone. She had a quick ear for 
 sounds, and the stillness of the prairie in its quiet moods 
 frightened her, just as its every voice in its echoing 
 moments disturbed her. "I'm sure I heard somebody 
 outside." 
 
 " Yes, but it 's somebody whistling. I 'm never afraid 
 of anybody who whistles as he comes," Beth answered.
 
 IN THE EVENING TIME 41 
 
 Through the deep casemented window she caught sight 
 of Elliot standing on the step. 
 
 "I never knew you to be afraid of any living thing, 
 Beth, dear." 
 
 "Well, mother, I'm not afraid of any dead thing, for 
 where's the use to be? " And Beth opened the door. 
 
 To the young man standing outside, the picture framed 
 before him v/as as a dream of things lovely. In the dark 
 ened doorway, with the moonbeams falling about her, 
 Beth Lamond's fair face made cameo outlines, faintly 
 pink and white, on the indefinite drapery of purple 
 shadows. 
 
 " Good evening, Elliot ; I 'm glad to see you, for mother 
 and I are alone." Beth held the door open. 
 
 " Good evening, Beth ; good evening, Mrs. Lamond." 
 
 Elliot hesitated at the entrance of the dimly lighted 
 room, and Beth put her hand on his arm to guide him. 
 
 "Here's a chair. Mother doesn't like a light when 
 father is away. I '11 get the candles." 
 
 She led him in and, seating him in her father's big 
 armed chair in the dusky corner, turned to get the can 
 dles. 
 
 " Don't get them for me, Beth," Elliot said ; " I like 
 this light best. Such a grand evening as it is! I never 
 saw anything like the prairie moonlight." 
 
 Beth sat down on the old-fashioned settle, where the 
 silvery beams streaming through the window fell on her 
 golden hair. Her eyes were dark and lustrous, and her 
 easy pose and utter lack of affectation made her uncon 
 scious of her charm. Something in all this was exqui 
 sitely near to pain for the boy who sat in the shadows 
 looking at her. For there leaped up in his heart a man's 
 first understanding of love. His mind swept back over 
 the afternoon in the woods, and set a new picture before
 
 42 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 him. He was glad the candles were not lighted, glad 
 even that it was Beth and not himself sitting where the 
 moonbeams fell clearest. Half consciously he pushed his 
 own chair into the deeper shade. He did not know why 
 he hardly wanted to trust his own voice then, and much 
 less did he want Beth's clear gray eyes looking straight 
 at him. 
 
 "Did you meet Mr. Lamond and that Indian, or had 
 they gotten to your house before you left home?" Mrs. 
 Lamond asked, anxiously. 
 
 "I didn't see anybody; I came straight across the 
 prairie. They must have followed the Trail. What 
 Indian do you mean, Mrs. Lamond?" 
 
 "Oh, Elliot," cried Beth, "an Indian came here just 
 after dark and asked father to go with him to your 
 house. Father says he is all right, a Delaware from the 
 reservation north of Lawrence. Mother is afraid he'll 
 do some harm to father, but I '11 risk it. I 'm never afraid 
 for father." 
 
 "No, nor for anybody else," Mrs. Lamond declared. 
 " You can't scare her, Elliot ; she fits the West all right." 
 
 Beth laughed, and, leaning back on the settle with her 
 hands clasped behind her head, turned her face full in 
 the light. 
 
 " I guess I 'm a Lamond all right. If I were a man I 'd 
 feel like I had to fight for my country. Wouldn't you, 
 Elliot?" 
 
 " Oh, Beth, I hope none of the men will ever need to 
 fight," cried her mother. 
 
 " So do I," asserted Beth ; " but if there was need for 
 them you would do it, of course." 
 
 There was a martial tone in the girl's voice. In the 
 dusk Elliot gripped hard on the arm of his chair. In
 
 IN THE EVENING TIME 43 
 
 his Quaker home peace and not war had been his life 
 time ideal. 
 
 " Would you want me to ? " he asked in a low voice. 
 
 " What 's that noise, I wonder? Listen I " Mrs. Lamond 
 prevented Beth's answer. 
 
 Elliot rose quickly. 
 
 " It is outside, at the stables, maybe ; I '11 go and see," 
 he said. 
 
 " I '11 go, too," Beth declared. 
 
 "Let me get a light first," Mrs. Lamond urged; but 
 the young folks needed no light. 
 
 "Just the black horse slipped his halter," Elliot an 
 nounced from inside the dark stable. 
 
 "Just Pluto's halter off, mother," Beth called to Mrs. 
 Lamond, waiting outside the kitchen house. 
 
 Satisfied, the mother went inside and closed the door. 
 As the young people came slowly up the stone walk, 
 Elliot's hand rested lightly on Beth's arm. They stopped 
 at the well for a drink as if they were really thirsty, and 
 then by common impulse they passed the kitchen door 
 and came to the front of the house to enter. The night 
 was irresistible, and to these two in the dawning moment 
 of manhood and womanhood the world wore the old, old 
 charm of Eden made new. An Eden no less idyllic in a 
 lonely prairie on the frontier than in the well-groomed 
 city park just beside the pathway of the crowd. 
 
 " Must we go in right away?" Elliot asked. 
 
 "N-no, I think mother won't be lonesome if we are 
 out here. We are so near her. I'm so glad you came 
 to-night." 
 
 Beth's voice was gentle now, without the ring of cour 
 age it had held when she talked of war and a man's 
 fighting duty.
 
 44 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "I'm glad, too; I'm always glad to come," Elliot 
 answered. 
 
 " Next year there will be more settlers here and it will 
 not be quite so lonely for her. Do you hope there will 
 be?" Beth queried. 
 
 " It depends on who they are and why they come. We 
 may wish them back East, and that we had our prairie all 
 to ourselves again," Elliot replied. 
 
 "What a change one year can bring," Beth said, 
 thoughtfully. " Are n't you more than a year older than 
 you were last October in Indiana, Elliot?" 
 
 Elliot caught his breath. It seemed years even since 
 that idle afternoon when the children of three settlers' 
 families had gone to search for nuts in the woods, and 
 three of these children had sat above the Vinland Valley 
 and watched the Trail below. 
 
 For six months these young people had known each 
 other, had seen much of each other, for settlers were 
 few and companionship dear. They had made much of 
 the time, and fought back the loneliness and homesick 
 ness of the days with all manner of pastimes that life 
 in this new land could offer. And no one as yet had 
 thought of anything but the pleasure of companionship. 
 And now to-night, all suddenly and unbidden, had a 
 man's soul wakened in a boy, and the joy of it was more 
 like pain than gladness. 
 
 " Here is the place to see the real moon. I sit out 
 here every evening and watch and wait for what never 
 comes." 
 
 Beth spoke half sadly and half dreamily. They were 
 sitting on the stone step of the porch, looking out to the 
 eastward. The dark woodland to the south was very 
 black against that silvery light, and the West was all 
 light and shade intermingled.
 
 IN THE EVENING TIME 45 
 
 "What do you want to come, Beth? " 
 
 " Oh, people, people. This is a lonely country." 
 
 " Would you go back East if you could ? " 
 " Would I, not? " Beth was not dreaming now. " Some 
 thing out here grips me and holds me. I'd love to see 
 the old home and the Pennsylvania mountains, and the 
 clear, sweet water of the brooks there. They are not 
 like the Wakarusa, nor that little feeder of the Hole in 
 the Rock. It is all dear to me, but, oh, Elliot, I only 
 want to see it. Lonely as it is here, there is what? 
 Hope, everywhere." 
 
 Elliot sat silent where the shadow of the rough stone 
 pillar hid his face. 
 
 " Of course," Beth went on, " it must have been the 
 same in Pennsylvania, when Penn and those good old 
 Quakers in knee breeches and long queues of hair were 
 making good real estate deals for brass beads and fancy 
 pipes in their days of doing things east of the Blue 
 Ridge." 
 
 Elliot laughed at Beth's picture. 
 
 " You are hard on the Quakers, Beth. We are n't such 
 a bad lot." 
 
 " Oh, all the East has the same sameness now. Every 
 morning out here there 's a new world to conquer. Back 
 East, with all the nice, dear things there, and they are 
 dear, the days are like rows of pins in a pin paper. You 
 take one out and there's only a little space and two little 
 holes, and the next and the next are like those before the 
 little space and the holes." 
 
 "And what of one day's work here in the West?" 
 asked the boy, pulling leaves from the morning-glory 
 vines, and stripping the green tissue of threads, looking 
 all the while straight before him. 
 
 "Oh, one day in Kansas is like a rent, a sword cut;
 
 46 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 the binding up of wounds, the shifting of all settled things 
 to make the days afterward follow another pattern." 
 
 " Is that true of to-day? " 
 
 Beth did not note the deep voice, nor the gentle tone, 
 as Elliot spoke. Even the tender look of the dark eyes 
 in the shadows was something recalled afterward, but 
 unheeded now. What she did note almost for the first 
 time, for comradeship is careless of fine lines, and remem 
 bered always when she first had known it, was the manly 
 strength and beauty of the face before her. 
 
 "To-day?" she mused. "Yes, to-day is altogether a 
 new day, and to-morrow, maybe all the days, must be dif 
 ferent for it here." 
 
 Beth did not know how like a white morning-glory her 
 white face above her dark dress seemed at that moment 
 as she leaned among the moonlit vines, and pushed her 
 golden hair away from her forehead. 
 
 " Of course, we went nutting and did n't get any. 
 That 's not new, for we have all been off together in the 
 ravine, and in the woods, and over on the East Prairie, 
 where the plum bushes grow. But there was something 
 about that stranger who promised us lots of trouble. 
 He '11 turn up again, sure." 
 
 " He has already. He is up at our house now, and 
 Beth, he is the rabidest hater of slavery I ever saw. The 
 Squatter rule will win out if his kind come often. He '11 
 do to those Southern voters who crowded into Kansas 
 to control our elections last Spring exactly what they 
 would do to us. Your father will like him, for he is a 
 fighter, not a boaster, a real bulldog at the job, now 
 mark me." 
 
 " Father says we '11 need fighters here, all we can get. 
 This is a poor country for cowards, he says, and every 
 man will be put to the test. Maybe every woman, too."
 
 IN THE EVENING TIME 47 
 
 Then in a light tone, " I wonder where I '11 be. Not back 
 East visiting relatives, I hope. I want to be right here." 
 
 " Oh, Beth, that's what that stranger up at our house 
 John Brown, that's his name here at least said 
 to-night." 
 
 " I told you every day changed the thing, like turning 
 the little kaleidoscope on my grandmother's parlor table 
 back in the Alleghanies. This man will put something 
 new into Kansas." 
 
 "And the rest of the day? " queried Elliot. 
 
 " Yes, plenty of the rest. There is father's Indian and 
 Mark's scare down the Trail." 
 
 " Mark's fish story. If he don't see real things he 
 makes them out of stone and sumac leaves, Mark does," 
 and Elliot laughed. 
 
 "Elliot," Beth said gravely, "I'm no second sighter, 
 but I somehow felt troubled when Mark was talking to 
 that man to-day. Just a tiny bit uneasy for Mark." 
 
 " Save yourself the strength. He 's all right. Just too 
 quick to speak and rash to act. He's the odd sheep of 
 the Darrow fold. But he '11 come out all right if he don't 
 let his rashness upset him." 
 
 "That's the very thing I thought to-day. He is so 
 impulsive and such a capital boy. I'm afraid he may 
 oh I don't know what." Beth laughed at herself. 
 
 " Well, let him go. The army of the King could n't stop 
 him anyhow. I '11 try to keep a good example before him 
 in myself." Then more seriously, Elliot asked, "Was 
 that all of this day to make it different ? " 
 
 Beth looked away across the prairies, shimmering now 
 in a silver mist, fine as finest mesh of woven cobweb. 
 The soft south wind lifted the little curls about her 
 temples, and all unconsciously the witchery of the night 
 seemed to need her to complete its spell.
 
 48 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Yes," she said, slowly; "there was that waiting up 
 on the bluff for our fathers, not quite like ever before, for 
 there was such an uncertainty about it all, and the three 
 men not being together, and Craig was n't quite like him 
 self, was he?" 
 
 "I don't know," Elliot answered quietly. 
 
 " Craig is such a fine fellow. Father likes him. Father 
 doesn't like Colonel Penwin at all, but he thinks Craig 
 is all right. Says he'll come through in spite of his 
 father ; and then you know Craig is a fighter, and the old 
 Scotch Lamond blood always recognizes a good soldier 
 anywhere." 
 
 "And I'm not a soldier. Beth, did that make any 
 difference in the day?" 
 
 "Oh, you're all right, Elliot. I said father wants 
 everybody to be a soldier. Mother doesn't want any 
 body to be, see?" 
 
 "And you, Beth?" 
 
 In the shadows the set face and low voice gave no hint 
 to the girl that a heart agony cried out where it could 
 not be heard. 
 
 " I, oh, how do I know what I want till the time comes? 
 Would n't Craig look fine at the head of a company ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; I never saw him there." 
 
 " Well, but Elliot, Colonel Penwin is splendid on horse 
 back, don't you think he is? " 
 
 "Yes, from the outside; I don't know how he looks 
 inside, where the real man lives." 
 
 "Elliot Darrow, you are not the same boy to-night. 
 Is the day changing all of us? What's the matter?" 
 
 She stood up now and leaned against the stone post. 
 Elliot rose from his seat. 
 
 "Are you the same, really and truly the same girl, 
 Beth?" Beth did not catch the pleading in his tone.
 
 IN THE EVENING TIME 49 
 
 "Am I not? Men may come and men may go, but 
 I " she did not finish, for Elliot had put both hands a 
 moment on her shoulders. 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't, Beth." 
 
 " Would n't what?" asked Beth ; " go on forever, or stay 
 here forever. That was what I meant to say." 
 
 "I don't know what I wish." Elliot folded his arms 
 and turned his face away. 
 
 " I know what I wish, Elliot." Winsomely sweet was 
 her girlish face, and a gentleness enveloped her. 
 
 "What do you wish?" 
 
 "I wish the days might, some of them, stay just like 
 pins in a row, and some people would not change." 
 
 " But you want Craig to go on with the new days, 
 Beth." 
 
 " Yes, oh, yes ; but he is Craig ; I don't want everybody 
 to. I don't want you to, Elliot." 
 
 "You like Craig better for the change?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he will grow with the changing years. He 
 will be a fine man, father says; so will Mark change; 
 but I don't want to think of you any differently than 
 right now." 
 
 She smiled up at him, a smile he never forgot. "I 
 want you to be just the same Elliot." 
 
 " I cannot be, Beth. The new day may find me farthest 
 of all of us from yesterday. I must go now. Good 
 night." 
 
 "Won't you stay till father comes?" 
 
 It was Elliot's turn to face the light now, and there 
 was small need for the moon to soften any harsh lines, 
 for the boy, entirely forgetful of himself, would have 
 given joy to an artist at that moment. The sturdy young 
 form, the shapely head, the heavy dark hair and eyes 
 with their wonderful depths of coloring, the full red lips
 
 50 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 that could smile so winningly, and, above this, the earn 
 est, manly spirit that belonged always to this young 
 Quaker, all combined to make their own model a girl 
 might not forget. He hesitated at Beth's question, then 
 suddenly he took her hand, took both her hands, for just 
 one moment. The moon slipped behind some silvery 
 curtain hung up on purpose for her convenience, and in 
 that shadow-filled stillness, forgetful, unheeding, Elliot 
 Darrow left a kiss on warm red lips, the first love kiss 
 Beth's lips had ever known. 
 
 A burst of radiant glory from the re-illumined sky, the 
 broad prairie smiling serenely under the beneficence of 
 the night's rare loveliness, the tender caresses of the 
 wandering south breeze, the swing of light and shadow 
 across a far moonlit plain; and a girl caught unawares 
 with love's first token, half happy and more than half 
 angry, and altogether sorrowful for what she could not 
 understand nor value ; and hurrying away across the dim 
 prairie, a young man with a heart as lonely as the wide 
 lonely lands about him. These things made the ending 
 of one October day in Kansas. A day that should never 
 more see its counterparts set in rows like pins in a pin 
 paper.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ANOTHER DAY THAT WAS DIF 
 FERENT 
 
 God only knows what fate the coming morrow, 
 
 Holds in its close-shut hand 
 What wave of joy, what whelming tide of sorrow, 
 
 May flood my heart's dry land. 
 
 Ellen P. Allerton. 
 
 IT was midnight and the moon had swung far toward 
 the western horizon. The chill of autumn filled the 
 air. Gray clouds were creeping up from the southwest, 
 and all the Vinland Valley lay wan and numb under its 
 covering of thin cold mist. 
 
 Just where the Trail slips out of the black woods to 
 the open east prairie, Elliot Darrow came face to face 
 with Craig Penwin. Wandering about the country at 
 night alone had not been a custom with either of the two 
 young men. Twenty-four hours before neither would 
 have been embarrassed by the meeting. Into each young 
 life now, the day whose midnight was just striking had 
 brought fateful events. And so, all suddenly, these two 
 looked at each other with more than the suspicion of 
 strangers. Craig was the first to speak. 
 
 " Hello, young man. Seems to me you are out pretty 
 late." Then the sense of his own position checked him. 
 
 Elliot had by inheritance the greater self-control, but 
 on this night the world seemed to have turned upside 
 down for him. He wondered later why he did not come 
 back with some joke about being out to watch Craig, as 
 
 51
 
 52 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 Mark would have done. As it was, he stood motionless 
 and silent. 
 
 "Well, why don't you speak, if you are not ashamed 
 of yourself? " the young Southerner continued. 
 
 The truth was that Craig was desperately ashamed of 
 his own action during the evening, and it relieved him 
 to thrust the ill-will he held toward himself on somebody 
 else. Elliot was even more ashamed of himself, and the 
 bitterness of it was that he was not alone in his harsh 
 judgment. He felt sure that Beth must despise him as 
 much as he despised himself. In the intensity of youth 
 his rude act seemed to shout after him so loudly he could 
 almost believe that Craig heard it, too. And so he stord 
 silently before his questioner, who presently added : 
 
 "Oh, I don't care what you have been up to. I am 
 probably as well off not to know it." 
 
 He would have passed on, but, prompted by a mis 
 chievous teasing spirit, and secure of himself in Elliot's 
 evident embarrassment, he stood for a full minute look 
 ing straight at the young man. In that minute the young 
 Quaker found himself. 
 
 " Maybe you are just as well off not to know what I 've 
 been up to, but I don't mind telling. I was over at 
 Lamond's. Mr. Lamond went up to our house this even 
 ing, and Beth's mother was lonesome and afraid. I think 
 I staid too long. Mr. Lamond did n't go home till late." 
 
 All of which was true, for Elliot had gone even to the 
 edge of the bluff overlooking the whole Vinland Valley 
 and had sat on the log where Beth and Craig had sat and 
 watched the Trail that long-ago afternoon full six hours 
 before. And he had seen David Lamond on the Trail at 
 a late hour, taking care the while that Lamond should 
 not see him. 
 
 "And by the way, Craig, what brings you here so
 
 ANOTHERDAY 53 
 
 late? You were n't spying down there, were you? " point 
 ing toward the Lamond holding hidden beyond the low 
 swell of prairie. " Were you at our house ? There's no 
 place else to go." 
 
 Craig started suddenly, and retorted angrily : 
 
 " I guess I can go where I please, and take care of my 
 own business." 
 
 "Then do it, and leave mine alone," and Elliot, in no 
 wise happier than he had been before the meeting, hur 
 ried away. 
 
 Late as it was, he found his mother still sitting by the 
 dying fire in the hall-room. 
 
 "Thee is late, dearie," she said as Elliot threw him 
 self down on the hearth beside her. "I suppose they 
 wanted thee to stay till David got home." 
 
 " No, they did n't, mother. I left there two hours or 
 more ago." 
 
 "Thee did?" Isabel Darrow asked no questions, but 
 gently stroked her son's hair. Presently she said : " Thee 
 should have heard what I did to-night. Elliot, I wonder 
 what the days hold for us. There are troubles ahead, 
 but," how sweet and firm her voice sounded then 
 " I do not fear them. I hold always to the promise, ' Thou 
 wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is staid on 
 Thee.'" 
 
 Elliot looked up quickly. The firelight on his mother's 
 face just then gave it that warm glow that painters love. 
 It was not alone that it was a pretty face, shaded by 
 smooth, dark hair waving a little about the temples. It 
 was the sweetness of the peace of mind and the strength 
 of the courageous soul behind it that made her boy spring 
 up quickly before his mother. Putting his arms around 
 her, he kissed her gently on the forehead. 
 
 " Mother, thee is a wonderful woman," he said, softly.
 
 54 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 And then the memory of that other kiss swept over his 
 mind with a shame that was near to joy, but a joy that he 
 blushed to own, for he had no right to it, so he turned 
 from her and went to his bed. 
 
 Meanwhile Craig Penwin walked slowly homeward. 
 The day had been a record marker for him, and he wel 
 comed the turn of midnight. 
 
 " I wonder what to-morrow will bring I mean to-day, 
 for it is past midnight now," he mused. " I 'm glad I 'm 
 from Georgia and don't have to eat my heart out about 
 the slavery of a lot of lazy niggers that are better off 
 now than lots of fellows up in New England who get 
 epileptic every time the Fugitive Slave Law is men 
 tioned. I 'm no beast, but I can't help my Southern inheri 
 tance and training. The trouble is these folks here will 
 never draw the line between my father and me. I wish 
 we were all back in Georgia. I wish father " he stopped 
 suddenly. 
 
 In the uncertain light the proud face showed white and 
 sad, and the deep blue eyes were full of pain. 
 
 " I hate these Quaker abolitionists who make so much 
 trouble, and these narrow-necked Yankees. They drive 
 us to crime." There was a bitterness in every line of his 
 countenance now. 
 
 The path he was following led by a clump of ever 
 greens in whose deep shade he stopped. He was fever 
 ish and tired, and he sat on the carpet of fragrant 
 pine needles to rest awhile. In a patch of light a few 
 feet away a man appeared suddenly. Pausing, he seemed 
 to peer anxiously toward the dark spot where Craig lay. 
 Then lifting his face to the light, a groan of anguish 
 burst from his lips, and he darted away into the blackness 
 of the wooded Trail. 
 
 " My father ! In God's name, what will this day bring? "
 
 ANOTHER DAY 55 
 
 Craig sprang up and hurried down the Trail toward the 
 Penwin homestead. 
 
 The warmth of the early autumn of yesterday gave 
 place in this morning to a bitter wind and heavy drizzling, 
 that would not be a downpour, and yet it penetrated 
 everything with its chilly moisture. At the breakfast 
 table Colonel Penwin smiled genially on his family. Only 
 Craig noted his haggard look and gray color. He was 
 king of his household and his courtesy had never failed 
 toward his own. Back in Georgia he had been a man of 
 moderate means but of luxurious tastes. He owned a 
 small plantation and a dozen slaves, and had kept a name 
 for living well, with true Southern hospitality. His wife 
 had died at the birth of her third child, Tarleton. From 
 that time the control of the household had been in the 
 hands of Aunt Crystal, a faithful black servant whose 
 life was bound up in the lives of these three children. 
 
 Lucy Penwin, a beautiful, intellectual girl, a sister of 
 Colonel Penwin, for whom his daughter Lucy was named, 
 had also been a member of the household. Her sudden 
 death just before their coming to Kansas was the only 
 real sorrow the children had yet known. They idolized 
 their father, and under the lazy Georgia skies they would 
 have gone on so worshipping till the end of time. They 
 did not know nor question why he had seemed suddenly 
 to upset the scheme of things for the whole family after 
 their aunt's death. They knew only that in one balmy 
 Southern springtime a change came unannounced into 
 their lives. A spirit of unrest, a sense of impending ill, a 
 dull pervading of calamity already accomplished or to be 
 met, something they could not understand and never 
 discussed marked the ending of the first act in their 
 life drama. 
 
 Transplanted suddenly in the Kansas Territory, with
 
 56 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 the frontier so unlike anything they had ever known, 
 their trouble-free Southern spirit, combined with the 
 thrill and vigor of the West, and their unbounded faith 
 in their father, made the second act more interesting than 
 the first for them. For they were young, and adventure 
 and hope and keen intelligence drew them quickly from 
 any homesick longing. Unconsciously they were for the 
 first time beginning to live their own independent lives, 
 to think for themselves and act on their own judgment. 
 The frontier exacted this much from all who crossed her 
 borders. The day just opening was to make them for 
 the first time conscious of this change in themselves. 
 
 Boniface Penwin combined an explosive impulsiveness 
 with bland self-control, and he could not tell when either 
 would be master of him, except where his family was 
 concerned. There he had always held self-mastery. It 
 came as a thunderbolt this morning, then, when he sud 
 denly declared: 
 
 " Children, there will soon be a dozen families from 
 Georgia and as many from South Carolina settling round 
 us. I want you to let the Darrows and the Lamonds 
 alone from this time. You hear?" 
 
 The question was thundered out in a tone the children 
 had never heard him use to them before. The command 
 had followed the chatter of Lucy and Tarleton, who were 
 rehearsing the doings of the day before in the woods. 
 
 " I mean just what I say, and you must understand it. 
 Every day is bringing us nearer to a settlement of things 
 in this Territory, and we must be ready without being 
 tangled up with anybody. There is no knowing what 
 may happen here." 
 
 He rose and hurried from the room. A few minutes 
 later they saw him ride furiously away on the red roan 
 horse of his recent barter.
 
 ANOTHER DAY 57 
 
 " You will remember what your father has said," Aunt 
 Crystal warned them gently, and having given the 
 admonition she went to her household duties. 
 
 The children looked at one another silently. A great 
 gulf seemed to open suddenly before them. Through 
 the half-open door the sharp autumn wind blew across 
 the room. It set the young blood a-tingle with its snappy 
 breath. 
 
 "Will you remember, Lucy?" queried Craig. 
 
 "Will you?" she returned. 
 
 "And will you, Tarley?" Craig turned to his little 
 brother. 
 
 " No, I will not" Tarleton answered, defiantly, and 
 Craig offered no reproof. 
 
 " I can let the Darrows alone," he said. 
 
 " I '11 stick to Joe," Tarley declared, stoutly. 
 
 " I 'm not going to give up anybody, Beth nor Elliot nor 
 Joe nor Mark," and pretty Lucy's eyes flashed with 
 something of her father's spirit. "What ails papa, I 
 wonder. He looked awfully mad." 
 
 Craig recalled the scene in the wood, and his heart was 
 heavy. He was only an untried boy himself, but a boy 
 with a dawning sense of personal demands and duties. 
 
 " Lucy and Tarley, do you know what you are say 
 ing?" he asked. "There is something back of this or 
 papa would n't have said it." 
 
 "I wish we had never come from Georgia." Lucy's 
 eyes were swimming in tears and Tarleton sniffled a 
 little homesick sniffle. 
 
 " Do you want to go back now? " Craig questioned. 
 
 " No, sir." Tarley braced up. 
 
 " Not now. It would n't be quite the same now, would 
 it?" and Lucy also caught the spirit. 
 
 "What was it that man said yesterday about trouble,
 
 58 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Lucy? It seems to be getting here. Let 's wait and see 
 what happens. Papa may change his mind. Nasty day 
 out. Lucy, go help Aunt Crystal. Tarley, we've got to 
 cut up that wood some nigger ought to be cutting for us." 
 
 The children separated for the morning, unconscious 
 that for the first time in their lives each was thinking 
 and choosing independently. 
 
 By noon the drizzle was a rain. By mid-afternoon it 
 was a steady downpour, and the darkness of evening 
 came early, even for October. Beth Lamond sat alone 
 by the stone fireplace in the little living-room. She 
 had laid aside her work and was gazing into the heart 
 of the red coals. Her golden hair drooped about her 
 face, and called to contrast the warm, dark-red dress with 
 the little white band of collar about her throat. 
 
 All day her mind had held only one thing: the fairy 
 land of moonlight, the gentle spell of companionship, the 
 well-built frame and handsome face and deep voice of 
 Elliot Darrow, the sudden dimness, the silvery pointed 
 shadows and then her soul rebelled at further 
 thought. And yet, unbidden, the picture repeated itself 
 to the same vanishing point, was destroyed and built 
 up again. And underneath it all, deep hidden, was a hap 
 piness, that she did not want to give up. A sacred 
 possession, hers and hers alone. 
 
 A knock at the door startled her. It might be Elliot. 
 How could she meet him? Then a foolish fear seized 
 her. She had never been afraid before, but now she was 
 alone and in a lonely place. She half hoped it might be 
 Elliot. The knock sounded again, gentle but insistent. 
 Beth laughed at her fear of such a knock, and, still smil 
 ing, opened the door. Craig Penwin, with garments drip 
 ping, stood outside in the cold gloom. With the warm 
 firelight for a background, Beth seemed to him an ideal
 
 ANOTHERDAY 59 
 
 home spirit smiling a welcome. " Golden-haired women 
 ought always to wear red on dark, rainy nights," was 
 what the young man thought. What he said was only to 
 inquire : 
 
 "Are you alone?" 
 
 " Yes," Beth said. " Mother and father have gone over 
 to Wren's, the settlers who built that cabin by the edge 
 of the ravine last August. He had an accident this 
 morning, and just by chance we got the word in time to 
 help them. He's a daring little Yankee. This is the 
 second time he's been hurt in two months." 
 
 " Too bad ! " Craig said, and then lapsed into silence. 
 
 "What's the matter, Craig?" Beth asked suddenly. 
 "Are you changing, too, with the weather, or old 
 age?"' 
 
 Craig looked up quickly. Why need a girl, a fair-faced 
 girl with a red dress and golden hair, be so provokingly 
 sweet and comfortable looking when the firelight is 
 warm and all outside is chill and dripping wet? 
 
 Beth's eyes were bright and full of hope ; and hearts 
 were young and companionship dear. 
 
 "Beth, I came over to tell you something," Craig 
 began bravely. " Something my father said this morn 
 ing," he hesitated and Beth looked up with eager 
 interest. Craig was worth looking at just then, for he 
 was at his best self. 
 
 "You know, you must know, that Georgia and Penn 
 sylvania are very far apart, and men bred in them can 
 not think alike, especially about slave-holding and all 
 that." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know," and Beth smiled. " I think I know, 
 Craig, just exactly what your father said, because he's 
 just about as set in his views as my blessed old papa, and 
 when you say 'as set as a Scotchman,' you've said the
 
 60 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 last word on 'setness.' Colonel Penwin said he hadn't 
 any use for David Lamond's foolish sentiments, would n't 
 stand for them, wished no more of his kind would ever 
 cross the border into Kansas. I know the whole thing. 
 Don't tell me any more. It doesn't affect us, does it?" 
 
 "But, Beth, there's more I want to say '* 
 
 " No there is n't," Beth interrupted. " Your father is 
 an awfully fine-looking man." 
 
 " Hm-m ! " Craig made a mock courtesy. 
 
 " Oh, Tarley looks just like him ; you don't, and you 're 
 not like him, either, now are you? " 
 
 Her deep gray eyes held him, and with a half-serious, 
 half-joking tone she went on. 
 
 " Really, Craig, Georgia and Pennsylvania may be far 
 apart, but can't the lines run from them straight to Kan 
 sas and meet here. I had a little geometry in the acad 
 emy last winter." 
 
 " No, they will never meet here. Not from those start 
 ing points," Craig said, gravely. 
 
 "Well, let them run parallel. It will save a fuss, 
 maybe, and it does n't concern us. Mother says we chil 
 dren must not be anything, nor from anywhere but just 
 here." 
 
 "You don't know father, Beth." 
 
 " Well, I don't want to, if he is like Daddy Lamond. 
 Let 's talk about something else," and Beth settled down 
 by the fireside with a serene face. " I 'm glad you came 
 this evening, for I was lonely, and for something else, 
 too." 
 
 " What else? " Craig did not look at her at all. 
 
 " Oh, because I wanted to see you. Can't I want to see 
 you? Boys and girls aren't so common on these lonely 
 prairies. I 'd be glad to see just anybody, sometimes." 
 
 " Even me," Craig suggested.
 
 ANOTHER DAY 61 
 
 " Yes, even you. And then you are really interesting, 
 up to things, you know. You keep me guessing." 
 
 " Well, guess what I want to say now 1 " 
 
 It was a dangerous question for the young man, for 
 now he turned and looked straight into the eyes of the 
 girl. A blush swept her fair cheek, and, hastily pushing 
 back the curly tresses from her forehead, she hesitated 
 a moment. 
 
 " Oh, you guess who was here last night. You never 
 could, I know." She was thinking of the Indian. 
 
 "I know without guessing." Craig's lips stiffened. 
 " It was Elliot Darrow." 
 
 " How do you know? I wasn't thinking of him," Beth 
 cried. 
 
 "He told me so himself." 
 
 Craig wished he could have understood the expression 
 of Beth's face at that moment. 
 
 A sense of loss, the slipping away of some sacred 
 thing, the common cheapness of what had been to her a 
 dear, priceless possession, revealed to the girl with cruel 
 suddenness how much in one short day she had enshrined 
 the memory of the night before. Perhaps girls have more 
 self-control than the young men who study them. Beth 
 sat half smiling, looking into the fire. It was only that 
 Craig's quick eye had caught the strange, fleeting expres 
 sion, he could not have said what it meant. 
 
 "What else did Elliot say?" she asked. 
 
 " He said I 'd be just as well off not to know what he 
 had been up to, but he didn't mind telling me. He also 
 said he thought he had staid too long. I would n't have 
 said that, Beth, if I had been here instead of Elliot." 
 
 How could the girl know that Craig was thinking only 
 of himself ; of his father's command and passionate anger ; 
 of his own dread of whatever might have befallen to so
 
 62 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 disturb that father to make him wander in the woods 
 at midnight and groan in very agony of soul. And all 
 the while before him was this sweet-browed girl, grown 
 suddenly so different to him from the Beth Lamond of 
 all the Kansas summer time, ending now in this cold, 
 dreary rain. The day had been ages long, and had 
 brought such a change with its hours ; small wonder that 
 he gave little thought just now to the young man between 
 himself and whom there had never been the basis of a 
 lasting friendship. He could have dropped Elliot Dar- 
 row out of his life anywhere without feeling the loss. 
 Not so this friendship for a winsome, jolly girl-com 
 panion. Oh, the day was very different from any his life 
 had ever known. 
 
 A step on the stone porch floor, a knocking, and Elliot 
 Darrow faced Beth at the open door. 
 
 "I I beg your pardon. Your mother wanted me to 
 stop on the way home and tell you she will stay all night 
 at Wren's. Your father will be here soon." 
 
 Elliot had meant to say something more. He had 
 expected to find Beth alone, and he meant to tell her 
 frankly how miserable his act of the night before had 
 made him; had meant to ask her forgiveness and to 
 assure her he was not the rude fellow she must think 
 him to be. The nearer he came to the Lamond home 
 the happier he grew, with the consciousness of his good 
 purpose, with hope whispering her own secrets in his ear. 
 
 Craig Penwin, standing by the fireside, saw Beth's 
 hand tremble on the latch and noted Elliot's white face, 
 from which the color had swept back. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you. Will you come in? " Beth 
 managed to say. Her heart was full of shame and anger 
 as she recalled Craig's report of what Elliot had said, 
 and she spoke coldly.
 
 ANOTHERDAY 63 
 
 "No, you have company. You will not need me. 
 Good-night." He spoke in low tone, which Craig could 
 not catch, and passed quickly out into the dark and wet. 
 
 At that moment Craig Penwin knew the bitterest stab 
 that comes to the heart of youth, the stab of jealousy. 
 
 " So he won't come in. I can give him up, all right, but 
 I Ve got to get home now. Some other day must settle 
 things for me," so Craig thought as he took up his hat. 
 
 "Must you go, too, Craig?" There was a hint of 
 pleading in the girl's tone, for she did not want to be 
 alone just then. 
 
 "I must, Elizabeth," Craig spoke, playfully, but there 
 was a soft light in his deep, blue eyes. "Some other 
 time I'll tell you what father said. This has been the 
 strangest day I ever knew. No other day will ever be 
 quite like it for me." 
 
 " Nor for me," Beth said, sadly, and neither one under 
 stood the other.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 PILGRIM SONS 
 
 We ourselves must Pilgrims be, 
 
 Launch our Mayflower and steer boldly 
 Through the desperate winter sea. 
 
 James Russell LowelL 
 
 COKE WREN, the settler who had built a cabin on 
 the edge of the ravine in August, and had had two 
 accidents since his coming to the West, was not the kind 
 of man to be disturbed by accidents. Coke was a wiry 
 little Yankee from Massachusetts, who with his equally 
 wiry little wife, Patty Wren, had come to the West as 
 easily as the wild geese fly southward. There were no 
 little Wrens in their nest, and the pair could have roosted, 
 if it had been necessary, in their getting settled in Kan 
 sas. In fact, they had already done this for the larger 
 part of one night before they were finally domiciled on 
 the edge of the ravine. They had built their first home 
 down in the heart of the hollow, with the Yankee notion 
 of the need for such shelter in the Kansas winters as the 
 New England winters require. And one night the June 
 rains had filled all the draws and swept down the ravine, 
 with a cloudburst helping to do things. The little Wrens' 
 nest went to pieces, and whatever may have gotten by 
 the Hole in the Rock went gaily on through the Waka- 
 rusa to the Kaw, landing at last at some sand-bar, or 
 swept even to the big muddy Missouri, doing its own 
 annual business of destruction just then. 
 
 64
 
 PILGRIMSONS 65 
 
 The two Wrens, as Coke afterward declared, " flew the 
 coop " just in time to reach some trees, where they staid 
 until the waters receded and the morning rainbow cut the 
 blackness of the eastern sky. Patty declared that Coke 
 had crowed at daybreak that morning, he felt so much 
 at home in the thorny locust, whither they had sought 
 refuge in that midnight flood. At any rate, the Wrens 
 were ready to take whatever came, and it was their 
 sense of humor and upbubbling cheer that broke up 
 more than one neighborhood feud in the years that fol 
 lowed, and kept homesick, lonely families anchored in 
 the West until they had no wish to leave it any 
 more. 
 
 That spirit of daring was what had caused Coke's 
 second accident, when he tried to force his fiery little 
 horse down a steep, slippery path in the ravine to find 
 what it was that had so frightened the beast and made it 
 rear backward. The result was just the usual outcome 
 of such a feat. Coke was laid up for days against 
 his own judgment, of course, because he had a strong 
 reason for wanting to go to Lawrence, a reason he 
 revealed only to Patty. 
 
 There was no physician nearer than Dr. Robinson, in 
 Lawrence, and he had gone to the Topeka convention, 
 forbidding Wren to step on his wrenched ankle. 
 
 "I want to know," Wren said, with his down-East 
 drawl, "does Doc Robinson think I'd want to step on 
 it, or have anybody else do it, either? No more do I want 
 a doctor settin' on my head, tellin' me where I can go 
 and what I das or dassent do." Coke said "dew" for 
 " do," with other pronounced Yankeeisms. 
 
 "Now, Cokey, don't be obstinit," Patty said, sooth 
 ingly, her bright, black eyes twinkling and her little, 
 beak-like face hiding a merry grin. "The doctor may
 
 66 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 put hobbles on ye and turn ye loose on the perairie if 
 you dew.' 
 
 Coke giggled, but made up his mind not to obey the 
 order just the same. In fact, he was feverish to get about 
 on another account. Contrary to command, he staid at 
 home only so long as he himself deemed necessary, and 
 then rode the same fiery pony which had so recently 
 thrown him, away down the Trail, and on to the little 
 village of Lawrence. Dr. Robinson came down the main 
 street just in time to see his patient tying his horse 
 before Winthrop Merriford's door. Shaking his fist at 
 his physician, he walked without a limp into Merriford's 
 house. 
 
 " You can't kill a Yankee," the doctor said to himself, 
 " least of all a little, boneless breed of Yankee like those 
 Wrens. Their muscles are just strung on rubber cord 
 and they are wired together through their nerve cavi 
 ties. Wren and his wife in one basket wouldn't weigh 
 a hundred and seventy-five pounds, but he may outlast 
 a man like Merriford or Lamond." 
 
 The name and fame of Lawrence in that time was 
 bigger in Massachusetts and other New England States 
 than it was in Kansas, and the sturdy little village was 
 mainly a thing of promise. A few comfortable homes, 
 according to frontier ideas of comfort, were surrounded 
 by all grades of habitations downward to the mere 
 tent. 
 
 And yet the lack of things was the poverty of the 
 beginnings of the struggle, not the degradation of pau 
 perism at the end of it. And with all was democratic 
 goodfellowship and a freedom from conventional bonds. 
 Everybody knew the limitations of the West and every 
 body knew these limitations were no bar to what the 
 turn of the years might bring; that good fortune might
 
 PILGRIMSONS 67 
 
 be to-morrow the endowment of the poorest of to-day, if 
 his heart was stout and his hand willing. 
 
 Among the best of the Lawrence homes in the middle 
 ' SQ'S was that of Winthrop Merriford, lawyer, abolitionist, 
 statesman, gentleman. New England soil grew no finer 
 man, nor did this young Kansas Territory hold a citi 
 zen of broader grasp and clearer view. From the day of 
 his coming to the West he held his own place in the 
 affairs of the young commonwealth. 
 
 The steamer that had followed the one bringing Win 
 throp Merriford up the Missouri River had brought Coke 
 Wren, who looked upon Merriford as the biggest asset 
 a State could possess. He had known the lawyer from 
 his own boyhood, and would have accounted no sacrifice 
 too great to show his respect for his friend. 
 
 As he walked into the open hall door of the Merriford 
 home on this day, he came plump into Jupe, the refugee 
 negro. . 
 
 "Why, hello, where the Old Scratch did you come 
 from? Are you yourself or are you not? I want to 
 know, now." 
 
 Jupe's white teeth fairly flashed, as he towered above 
 the little Yankee. 
 
 "You're Mars'r Wren, from old Massachusetts, now 
 ain't you?" he beamed with pleasure. 
 
 "Yes, that's me; but who are you? Not that runaway 
 nigger, Jupe, who got up to Boston, are you?" 
 
 "I shore is," Jupe replied. "Come in here." He led 
 the way into the parlor. "Set down, Mars'r Wren, set 
 down. Seems like I must talk to you a little while." 
 
 "All right, Jupiter, but I want to see Merriford first. 
 I'm in a hurry to see him; important business, you 
 know." Wren seated himself and the negro stood lean 
 ing against the mantel facing him. " Never mind 'bout
 
 68 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 Mars'r Merriford. He an' Mis' Merriford an' the little 
 gals, Annie an' Nellie, all done gone to Leavenworf, an' 
 won't be back till late this evenin'. An' Mars'r Wren, I 
 jest must talk to somebody or I'll bust." Jupe grinned 
 broadly. 
 
 " I want to know ! Well, talk to me, then. Don't want 
 no more busted citizens in Kansas. We are all poor 
 enough now." And then Coke Wren grew serious. 
 " Say, Jupe, you are the darkey that got up to Boston the 
 year Neil Merriford graduated at Harvard, aren't you?" 
 
 Jupe gave a great sigh that was almost a sob, and, 
 rising, he went to each of the two windows as if to make 
 sure no one was looking in. 
 
 " Don't feel bad nor afraid, Jupe ; Lawrence is too full 
 of New England folks, regular old codfish-eatin' down- 
 Easterners, for you to be 'f raid of the Fugitive Slave Law 
 any more. S'pose you just save me any questions and 
 tell me all you want to? Suffering snakes! but it do 
 look good to see anything that reminds me of Neil Mer 
 riford. Lord bless him. He '11 be comin' to Kansas soon, 
 I hope." 
 
 The negro dropped into a chair. 
 
 " Say, Mars'r Wren, lemme tell you all something. I 
 ain't a slave to no man with my hands no more. I hires 
 to Mars' Merriford, an' he done pays me ef I 'm worthy 
 of my hire. But, Mars' Wren, a man may be white as 
 heaven in his skin, an' be the biggest slave on God's 
 earth, he may. 
 
 " I is a free man of my master, down Souf," Jupe went 
 on, "but 'long as I'm so ignorant" he struggled 
 with that word "jest so long I is a slave. But I is 
 
 learnin', and when I git learnin' all done, then " He 
 
 stood up to his full height, six feet and three inches, with 
 the muscles of a giant and the face of a child.
 
 PILGRIM SONS 69 
 
 " I reckon you '11 make it through, all right, if you for- 
 git the darkey trick of stealin', and tend to your knittin' 
 careful. Was this what you had to tell?" 
 
 "I ain't near done yet," Jupe said, seating himself 
 opposite the little Yankee. "I is only beginnin', but I 
 want you all to know first I ain't yet out of slavery till 
 I get furder in my knowledge. Mars' Wren, I done run 
 out of the Souf to Boston. You 'member how the old 
 overseer chase after me till he git clear to Boston 
 Mars'r Neil Merriford jest gittin' out of college that 
 year? It was June roses time, an' Mars'r done fall in 
 love with a pretty miss a girl from down Souf, what 
 was up in Boston learnin' music. Maybe I ought n't say 
 it," Jupe hesitated, "but I never see no girls up Norf 
 quite so sweet and pretty as them pretty ladies down 
 Souf, real, soft-voiced lady-birds, graceful an' sweet." 
 
 " Just like Patty, she 's graceful as a hen. Yes, go on," 
 Wren observed. 
 
 " Mars'r Neil awfully in love with this fine lady. When 
 I git to Boston I was nigh dead, and Neil Merriford done 
 stop right with that pretty girl done stop that night I 
 get there to his father's door and go back in his house 
 and tell his step-mother, little Miss Nellie and Annie's 
 mother, to give poor runaway darkey a good supper." 
 
 " Yes, I heard something about that. The overseer 
 pretty near got you, didn't he?" Wren asked. 
 
 "I was 'twix' two fires, the debbil and the deep-sea 
 fires, shore. I know Mars'r Neil's girl and she know 
 me, down Souf and I did'nt want to stay round where 
 Mars'r Neil was. And that overseer come chasm' his- 
 self clear to Boston, and I did n't know where to go." 
 
 "Where did you go?" asked Wren. 
 
 " Down to the river-side, meanin* to jump in ef I got 
 too close pressed."
 
 70 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 " So that 's how it happened that when Neil's boat got 
 upset and he had saved the girl's life, and was about to 
 go down himself, you jumped in and fished him out. And 
 then Neil faced that overseer next day, and dared him 
 to touch you, and he had to go back without you. And 
 so you knew Neil's girl, did you? Well, how did the 
 whole rumpus come out? I heard Neil had some trouble, 
 but I was up in Maine gettin' rid of some old dornicks 
 and a little sand they call a farm, so 's I could come West, 
 and I lost track. Did you come West from Massa 
 chusetts?" 
 
 " No, sah ! " The negro's face was a study. " I went 
 Souf again after that." 
 
 "What for, Jupe?" 
 
 "For my wife. But" in a lowered tone and slowly 
 "she is dead now." The man's voice was full of 
 pathos, and the grief of his countenance was pitiful to 
 see. 
 
 " And so you came West. I reckon you done well by 
 it," Wren said. 
 
 "Yes, we come West I mean I did, 'cause she's 
 dead. Lemme tell you, Mars'r Wren, 'fore God, I got a 
 work to do yit, but I ain't out of the house of bondage, 
 not yit." 
 
 "Oh, you are safe enough, I tell you. In a hand-to- 
 hand fight you're a match for a dozen, anyhow, and 
 Lawrence will give you a good home if you behave your 
 self. There's a warm heart in this little town. The 
 children of the Pilgrim Fathers is here, and they know 
 what rings sound and what is worthless. They measure 
 men more by the Golden Rule than a golden ruler: When 
 ye git down to real brass tacks, ye can trust old New 
 England men every time."
 
 PILGRIM SONS 71 
 
 "I knows it. Ain't I with Mars'r Merriford? But I 
 ain't free up here yit." He tapped his forehead. 
 
 "Oh, I understand. Well, keep your eyes open, and, 
 for the Lord's sake, don't do too much talkin', and you 
 can learn. Land o' nutmegs! You can learn. These 
 peraries is a open spellin'-book, and there 's a right good 
 gospel runnin' down the Wakarusa every day. You don't 
 need to be white to read the handwritin* of God 
 Almighty. You '11 git your whole freedom quick enough, 
 if you just put your best licks at it. When 's Merriford 
 to get back, did you say? " 
 
 "To-night maybe sooner," Jupe answered, absently. 
 
 "Where's Neil now? Will he be comin' here soon, 
 do you suppose?" Wren questioned. 
 
 Jupe turned his back on the little Yankee, and, staring 
 out of the window, he answered, slowly : 
 
 "You better wait till Mars'r Merriford gits here, and 
 ask him," 
 
 Coke Wren did not have long to wait before Winthrop 
 Merriford and his family came. 
 
 "Hello, Coke," the lawyer called, cheerily. "Does a 
 man good to see you. I thought you were tied to the 
 bedpost at home. Dr. Robinson said you wouldn't be 
 out for two weeks." 
 
 "And lied, as is his professional duty. We could be 
 seedin' down our graveyards with early potatoes if there 
 was a few less doctors runnin' at large." 
 
 " You are hard on them, Coke a man that 's always 
 getting broken up like you are, too. You ought to be 
 glad there's somebody willing to gather up your mem 
 bers and wire you together again." 
 
 They were standing by the stable door while Jupe 
 was taking care of the horses.
 
 72 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Come, Wren, let 's go in. I 've had a long ride in this 
 sharp air," Merriford said. 
 
 " Can I see you by yourself? " Wren asked. " I 've got 
 something to tell you." 
 
 "Come into the office. Mrs. Merriford and the girls 
 will be busy in the house, and we will not be interrupted. 
 Jupe, go in and help Mrs. Merriford, when you get 
 through." 
 
 " You won't need me in the office, will you, sir? " 
 queried Jupe, with a longing look. 
 
 " No, not now. Hurry along lively." And the two 
 men went inside the little building that was just then 
 the biggest law office in Lawrence. 
 
 " Merriford, I '11 be quick," Coke Wren began. " I 've 
 been two weeks keepin' still, except to Patty. The day 
 I was hurt I was down in the ravine and my horse got 
 so almighty scared at somethin', I couldn't understand 
 what. So I tried to git back by a short-cut to the same 
 place. And what in the dickens do you reckon I found? 
 It was in gittin' away from it that my horse slipped." 
 
 Merriford shook his head. 
 
 "Well, I come square on the bay colt that Colonel 
 Boniface Penwin traded for that roan horse he 's carvin' 
 up the perarie with these days. The colt was dead, with 
 a bullet hole in its chest. Here's the bullet. I cut it 
 out. I left the hole, not needin' it for purposes of identi 
 fication." 
 
 Coke handed the lawyer a bullet as he said this. Mer 
 riford examined it carefully, and then, carefully wrapping 
 it up, locked it in a drawer in his desk. 
 
 "You mean for me to keep it?" he asked. 
 
 Coke nodded. "Of course; I brought it to you. But 
 Merriford, there's something wrong." 
 
 "Yes, there's much that is wrong." Merriford medi-
 
 PILGRIM SONS 73 
 
 tated before he went on. " Why did Jupe want to come 
 in here instead of going into the house, do you 
 suppose?" 
 
 "I don't pretend to know why a nigger wants to do 
 anything. Do you think the nigger knows?" the little 
 man returned. 
 
 " Yes, Jupe knows what he is about every minute. He 
 knows something he won't tell, or doesn't dare tell me. 
 I'm biding my time. Mark me, Coke Wren, when we 
 find out who sent that bullet, and when and why it was 
 sent, we'll find Jupe knows it, too." 
 
 " I want to know ! Do you trust him, Merrif ord ? I 
 don't want the race to be slaves, and I don't want to be 
 slaves to 'em, neither." Coke gave his comical face a 
 twist. 
 
 "I trust this man as I would trust you," Merriford 
 replied. "But he doesn't trust me yet. He will. I 
 can wait." 
 
 "Well, I must be goin', or some son of Belial will be 
 puttin' a bullet into my horse down in that same ravine," 
 Wren said, rising. 
 
 "Are you afraid, Coke?" Merriford asked. 
 
 " Not of the devil himself," the Yankee declared. " By 
 the way," he added, "what do you hear from your boy, 
 Neil, Merriford?" 
 
 The lawyer's face clouded. It was a good, strong face, 
 with a firm mouth, kind eyes, and thoughtful brow. 
 
 "Wren, you know he went South, expecting to settle 
 up affairs and take his bride home with him. I had hoped 
 later they would decide to come on West. Neil is a fine 
 boy, Coke, if he is my son, and the girl he is to marry 
 will get acclimated to the North all right. She and 
 Neil are very fond of each other, more so than most 
 young lovers are. He wrote me one letter, a short one,
 
 74 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 aying he found things in bad shape. Didn't specify 
 anything. He is back in Boston by this time. I expect 
 a letter from him by every mail. And yet mails are slow, 
 and if the boy has had to put off his wedding, I expect 
 he's pretty blue, and doesn't feel like writing. I am 
 hoping all will be well for him. I 'd get pretty much 
 concerned if things weren't keeping us all on the jump 
 here in Kansas. My hands are full of my own affairs. 
 I don't know how I 'd get along without my little girls 
 and their mother to give me something comforting to 
 think about. Neil had much of the loss of his own 
 mother made up to him in the love of his step-mother. 
 Nothing like a home to anchor a man, is there, Coke? 
 We need these home-anchors here, too, for the Battle 
 of the Lord is going to be fought out here soon, and 
 we must help to fight it." 
 
 "That's what Patty and me said the rainy night we 
 roosted in the thorny locust. We said we could make a 
 home with each other. We didn't have to have that 
 house, for it was too flimsy to stay over our heads and 
 hold us, and we were stronger than it was. We just 
 carried our home in our two hearts and flew up into that 
 snarly ornery locust tree like a couple of bantams, and 
 turned our oiled feathers to the rain, so to speak. We 
 didn't come to Kansas to git scared out by trifles. We 
 are here to make this a Free-Soil State, by gum ! " 
 
 " You are a blamed good fellow, Coke Wren. Kansas 
 will win to a Free-State land if half its settlers have 
 your pluck. Good-by." 
 
 When his visitor was gone, Winthrop Merriford un 
 locked his drawer and took out the bullet he had placed 
 therein, and examined it long and carefully. He even 
 took it to the window, and with a magnifying glass 
 studied it painfully. In his absorption he did not notice
 
 PILGRIM SONS 75 
 
 At first that Jupe was standing by the window on the 
 outside, looking as intently at him as he was looking 
 at the bullet. He took care that the black man should 
 see the careless gesture by which he seemed to throw the 
 bit of lead into the ash pan by the stove, and then care 
 fully lock some papers in his desk. 
 
 " I 'd give much if I had the pistol that sent that bul 
 let." He sighed deeply. " I wonder how long Jupe has 
 been out there, and if he heard anything. Hardly could 
 have done that, though. I saw to that when this little 
 shack was built. I'll wait awhile and the fellow will 
 come to me. I won't need to follow him around." 
 
 Wren reached the ravine on his homeward journey 
 at twilight. He always rode like the wind, but, remem 
 bering his recent fall on the steep path up-stream, he reined 
 in his horse on the slippery Trail, and passed gently 
 down the way to the crossing. Where the shadows 
 were thickest by the Hole in the Rock, his keen eyes 
 caught sight of a man on horseback, staring at the still, 
 black pool. So absorbed was the lone watcher there, 
 that he did not note Wren's approach until the pony's 
 feet struck the water of the crossing. Then he started 
 violently, and, wheeling his horse, he dashed up the 
 farther side of the hollow like a very fury. 
 
 "Well, Gosh Almighty! What was Colonel Boniface 
 Penwin doin', settin' there in the dark? That roan of 
 his'n was a good trade, all right. It can go like an 
 Injun's horse, sure as the world. The idea of a man 
 like Penwin, weighin' two hundred, runnin' from a 
 stringy little shoat like me, that's got to git my con 
 science weighin' heavy 'fore I can ever tip ninety-nine 
 pound. I 'm thankful right now to the Good Bein' that I 
 don't have to run from nobody on the Lord's footstool, 
 and I ain't never goin' to, neither. I 'd ruther be dead all
 
 76 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 my life than be a livin' disgrace to myself, jest despisin* 
 the man I was packin' round with me ever' day." And 
 Coke Wren, happy at heart, hurried to his little Wren's 
 nest on the edge of the ravine, a mile away.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 A PROPHECY 
 
 As long as Nature shall not grow old, 
 Nor drop her work from her doting hold; 
 And her care for the Indian comfort, 
 And the yellow rows in pairs to set; 
 So long shall Christians here be born, 
 Grow up and ripen as God's sweet corn! 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 THE last real Indian summer day of that Autumn fell 
 on a Sabbath following a week of chilly, gray skies, 
 bitter morning air, and frost in the lowlands. All these 
 were swept out of mind by the sunburst of the glorious 
 dawn of a holy day, in whose sweet hours the heavens 
 were arched above the earth, like an amethyst dome, 
 tinted about its low rim with topaz and mother-of-pearl ; 
 while shimmering prairie and wooded headland and 
 winding waters, in deep, purple vales, smiled back at the 
 skies above them. Beneath the cottonwood trees the 
 ground was golden with fallen leaves. The edge of the 
 ravine was all scarlet with sumac, blending through 
 duller tones to the richness of the oak brush and the dark 
 green of the scrub cedar in the hollow. The bitter 
 sweet bushes hung with coral beads, and the deep pink 
 of the straggling squawberry brightened the bronze- 
 brown of the upland. In the far distance a wreath of 
 heliotrope haze hung between heaven and earth, as if 
 the hand of Omnipotent Beauty would lay upon the 
 brow of Nature its crowning gift to the year's best days. 
 
 77
 
 78 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 Across the land flowed the caressing breeze of the open 
 west, exhilarating as wine, gentle as peace, buoyant as 
 hope. 
 
 Truly, the earth was doing her best on this Sabbath 
 day to bear from the Infinite a beneficent token of glad 
 ness to the sons and daughters of men. And if there was 
 sadness, or unrest, or dread on this rare day, they came 
 not from without, but from within the hearts of men. 
 And there was sadness, and unrest, and dread, in the 
 minds of the settlers of the plains in this late autumn 
 time. 
 
 Eighteen months had passed since the Kansas Terri 
 tory had been opened for settlement, with the national 
 provision that the majority should rule. Beyond question, 
 even in eighteen months the number of Free-State men 
 who had become citizens of the new Territory greatly 
 exceeded the number of those who would make it a land 
 of slavery. True there were here, as everywhere, double- 
 dealing, unprincipled men, who serve the devil in the 
 name of the Lord, whose acts brought shame upon a 
 noble cause. And there were also Southern sympathizers 
 who from first to last were honorable, law-abiding citi 
 zens. But clear of both of these, the home-builders of 
 the young commonwealth were already proving the trend 
 of the majority, needing only the faithfulness of the Na 
 tional Government to its own statute and the protection 
 of their rights as citizens at home to settle the issue in a 
 peaceful ballot-box. 
 
 Yet in this autumn, neither the power at Washington 
 nor the civil power in the Territory availed to protect 
 this growing little majority. Governor Shannon was 
 both weak-willed and unacquainted with the real people 
 whom he had sworn to serve. Not so the officer chosen 
 by an illegitimate legislature to maintain civil peace. This
 
 APROPHECY 79 
 
 man, as postmaster in Missouri, and sheriff of the region 
 round about Lawrence, with the personal qualities of a 
 braggart, a coward, a drunkard, and an assassin, became 
 the efficient servant of the governor and tool of those 
 who knew no law beyond the law of the shotgun and 
 the bowie knife. And all the while, just across the east 
 ern border, ready to rush at the cry of the victim, to be in 
 at the kill, and loot of booty, was the inevitable horde 
 of the rank of social disorder men of unbridled pas 
 sions, whose appetites were debauched, whose love was 
 lust, whose brute satiety was reached through squan 
 dered human blood. 
 
 Small wonder that there should be sadness, and unrest, 
 and dread in the minds of the settlers on this fair Sab 
 bath day. And great the marvel that, with all this threat 
 ening of calamity, hearts were stout and voices brave, 
 and eyes looked still unflinchingly westward. 
 
 Along the old Santa Fe Trail and up from new-made 
 by-trails, and across the sheer, trackless prairie, on this 
 Sabbath morning came the settlers from far-scattered 
 homes. They threaded in from all directions, their con 
 verging paths pointing to the little village of Palmyra, 
 sitting with the pert expectancy of a new frontier town 
 beside the Trail. 
 
 A preacher, welcome visitor to the early frontier, a 
 Methodist preacher, it chanced was spending the day in 
 Palmyra. He had come into town on Saturday with a 
 wagon train, going westward on the Trail, bound for 
 Santa Fe. The train had moved on to travel on the 
 Sabbath as well as any other day, but the preacher had 
 staid behind. Word had swept the Vinland Valley like 
 a prairie fire that Saturday afternoon that a sermon could 
 be heard in Palmyra on Sunday. Hence these prairie 
 Pilgrims making for one common shrine in the loneliness
 
 80 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 of this autumn day. It mattered not that this preacher 
 called himself a Methodist. Baptist, Presbyterian, Quaker, 
 or Episcopalian, with those who claimed no specific 
 church affiliations, all came hither, hungering not more 
 in truth for the gospel message than they were drawn by 
 a homesick longing for the Sabbath of a civilized land. 
 
 " Mother, my stone-bruise hurts my shoe. I wish I 
 could go barefoot in winter, too," little Joe Darrow said, 
 trudging along with his mother, behind his father and 
 Mark, on their way to Palmyra. 
 
 "Better stick to thy copper-toes, Joey," Mark looked 
 back to advise. " If there was only one rock in Kansas, 
 thee would be sure to stump thy bare feet against it. 
 Whew, look behind you ! " This to Elliot, who brought 
 up the rear. 
 
 The Darrow family all turned at Mark's words, to find 
 the Lamonds rounding a curve in the Trail behind them. 
 
 Elliot had not seen Beth since the night he left her 
 with Craig Penwin, and he had told himself often enough 
 to have convinced anybody else that he was overcoming 
 the dreariness that five minutes spent at Lamond's door 
 had managed to crowd into his days. True, he had been 
 able to see only one picture in these weeks the picture 
 of a fair-faced girl in a dark-red dress. A sweet picture, 
 only the face had no welcome in it for him, and the 
 courtesy of greeting had been a mere form. And in the 
 background of all of this sat Craig Penwin, whom also 
 Elliot had not seen since that night. 
 
 The Lamonds fell in with their neighbors by natural 
 selection, Mr. Lamond beside Hiram Darrow and his 
 wife with Isabel. Joe and Mark shot on ahead together, 
 leaving Beth and Elliot to do the best they could for 
 each other. The conversation was not general. The 
 boys discussed the rules of the game in " shinney." The
 
 A PROPHECY 81 
 
 men were earnest over problems of state, while their 
 wives considered the best ways of keeping house in the 
 coming Winter with the conveniences of the frontier. 
 Only the two behind all the others found it difficult to 
 talk. 
 
 "It has been a rough week. How quickly it has 
 changed!" Beth ventured. 
 
 " Yes, this is a strange country," Elliot answered, a 
 little stiffly, "but it is a beautiful land, isn't it?" 
 
 They were at the top of one of those prairie billows 
 wherefrom the earth, and the fulness thereof, unfolds 
 to the view with a beauty so intense that to the artistic 
 spirit the joy of it is close to pain. The wooing sweet 
 ness of the autumn day caught them in its spell and drove 
 from them with one caress of its soft air what hours of 
 explanation might only have bungled in attempting. All 
 the severe manners and guarded speech each had planned 
 to use .when they should meet deserted them in the sur 
 prise of the pleasure of being together again. They had 
 fallen behind the others, and the world, their world, 
 because they were young and made worlds easily, had no 
 flaws in the making. 
 
 "Why does father always call this kind of a day a 
 'weather-breeder,' I wonder," Beth said, with the joy 
 of the morning dancing in her dark, gray eyes. "Isn't 
 every day a ' weather-breeder ' ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" Elliot's pulse was on the up-grade, too. 
 " But nobody ever thinks of that, only in the sunshiny 
 hours. Why shouldn't we say on dark, rainy nights, 
 ' Oh, this is a " weather-breeder " ! To-morrow will be 
 fine again ' ? " 
 
 And then the thought of one dark, rainy night came to 
 both, and what Beth saw in Elliot Darrow's eyes made 
 her turn quickly from him. But not so quickly that
 
 82 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 something, that marvelous something that even wise 
 Solomon said was among the quartette of things too 
 wonderful for him, had made the young man's heart give 
 a great bound, and he dared not say another word along 
 this line. 
 
 " I think, Beth, the days now are all, in a way, trouble- 
 breeders," he said, after a pause. " Father was over at 
 Palmyra when that wagon train went through yester 
 day. They didn't have very cheerful news to bring 
 of the conditions over the border. Everybody is looking 
 for something to happen soon. But when it does" 
 Elliot's winning smile could have swayed a doubting soul 
 to trust him "when it does come, will be the time to 
 say, ' Oh, this is a forerunner of better things.' At least, 
 that's what mother says. And if I were an artist and 
 wanted to paint a picture of Hope, I'd paint Hiram 
 Darrow's wife." 
 
 " You would be painting a beautiful woman," Beth 
 said, softly, and then she added: "This will be a hard 
 winter, of course. So many settlers are not ready yet to 
 have cold weather come ; so many poor houses and such 
 a lack of food, and no doctor for the sick, nor preachers 
 for the dying." 
 
 "And with these," Elliot went on, "is the danger to 
 human life, the lawlessness of the pro-slavery men; and 
 Governor Shannon weakly giving up to those who count 
 any crime done for their cause an act of bravery. Oh, 
 well, we 'd better not talk about it, or we '11 be ' trouble- 
 breeders.' You may get the chance to go to war yet, 
 Beth." 
 
 " Oh, I '11 send you and Coke Wren, if there 's enough 
 of him left by that time," Beth answered, lightly. 
 
 They were near to the village now, approaching the 
 newest little cabin that had straggled out beyond the
 
 APROPHECY 83 
 
 westward edge of the settlement, as if hunting aimlessly 
 for some geometric pattern in the town site into which 
 it could fit ; and, finding none, had dropped down to hide 
 in the tall grass like a chicken when the mother hen 
 cries the warning for a hawk. A few minutes before Joe 
 and Mark had met the owner of this cabin, a young 
 Southerner, as he was coming from town, and persuaded 
 him to turn back and go with them to the preaching. 
 
 Beth and Elliot paused awhile and turned to look back 
 over the way they had come. Its beauty spread away to 
 the westward like a dream of fair lands. 
 
 " Oh, Beth, it is worth it all, this wonderful country, 
 and the wonderful men and women who dare to come 
 here. The very winds that sweep across it deny that it 
 shall ever be a Slave State, and when I listen to your 
 father and mine, and when I think of all that that 
 man, John Brown, said at our house the night after we 
 went nutting " Elliot's voice failed a little here " and 
 when I think of Coke Wren and Patty, I know I am glad 
 to be here." 
 
 " I am glad, too," the girl declared. " Mother says I 
 am intended for the West." 
 
 How like a part of all of it she seemed just then! 
 Fearless, happy, hopeful a girl to adorn the land she 
 called home. 
 
 It did not seem the time just then for Elliot to say 
 what he had meant to say on the night he had found Beth 
 and Craig together. He was longing to set himself 
 right with her, but she seemed so different to-day. May 
 be she knew by instinct how truly ashamed of himself 
 he was. His mother often understood him without a 
 word. Might not Beth understand a little, too? At 
 any rate, he would wait until after the church service, 
 and he would have more time in a long homeward walk
 
 84 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 to get rid of this load. Just now it was so good to 
 be near her, to hear her speak and see her smile. Brave- 
 hearted, sunshiny, companionable, her mother was 
 right, she fitted the West. 
 
 The trail from Penwin's came into the Santa Fe Trail 
 around a smooth, low knoll, at whose base were a few 
 scrubby wild plum bushes. Lucy and Craig had 
 just rounded the knoll to enter the main highway. Lucy 
 had not been away from home nor seen a soul except 
 the Penwin family since the day in the woods. Although 
 the two at the top of the slope were too far away to 
 be recognized by either herself or her brother, the sight 
 of a woman's dress made impulsive Lucy cry out with 
 joy, and she involuntarily waved her hand to Beth. 
 Craig, who was ahead, heard Lucy's happy little whoop, 
 and looked up just in time to catch Beth's answering 
 signal. He lifted his hand in courteous response, for the 
 plum bushes hid his sister at the instant, and he took 
 the action as a mere token of greeting to himself. 
 
 At the top of the slope Elliot had turned just in time 
 to see Beth's motion and Craig's answering signal. He 
 did not see Lucy by the plum bushes at all. It was a 
 small thing, but Elliot was only a boy in the impulses of 
 his first love, not a man with mature judgment. The 
 rainy evening at the Lamond home came like a flash, 
 and Beth's cool manner when Craig was near. A little 
 thrust of jealousy stung him as he looked keenly at 
 Beth. 
 
 "Somebody waved me a grand good-morning," she 
 spoke, with happy indifference. 
 
 "Who was it?" asked Elliot. 
 
 " I don't know," answered the girl, truthfully, for she 
 had not recognized the Penwins any more than they 
 had recognized her.
 
 APROPHECY 85 
 
 Elliot shut his lips tightly as if that ready winning 
 smile could never play about such a stern, firm mouth 
 again. He forgot that he had been, able to tell a red 
 roan horse from a black one, when at the same distance 
 neither Craig nor Beth could distinguish black from 
 white. His gift of keen eyesight was one of the many 
 things he had yet to learn about himself. With his pang 
 of jealousy was his surprise that Beth should try to 
 deceive him in such a small thing. Why should she 
 care that he had seen her send a friendly salute to any 
 young man? It was not the act, the poor boy told him 
 self, but her effort to conceal it that hurt him. 
 
 " Shall we go on? " he asked, in a voice so different that 
 Beth turned quickly at the question. 
 
 "No, let's wait and see who it is," she said, in a 
 bewildered way. 
 
 Beth had tried to forget what Craig had told her of 
 Elliot's, speech on the night after his evening with her 
 on the moonlit porch, but now the memory of those 
 careless words came back to her. 
 
 "It is Craig and Lucy," Elliot informed her. 
 
 Beth started and exclaimed in spite of herself, " Let 's 
 go on." 
 
 But Elliot answered firmly, " I think we 'd better wait 
 now." 
 
 They were near the last cabin on the west side of 
 town, the little habitation squatting in the tall grass 
 that came almost to the eaves. It had a small window 
 looking to the west, and a door in the north and another 
 in the south. The doors were closed and no sign of 
 life was visible. 
 
 "I suppose these people are ahead at the preaching," 
 Beth ventured to say. 
 
 Elliot did not reply. Through the little dark window
 
 86 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 his sharp eyes caught sight of a horse's head a few feet 
 from the opening. Craig and Lucy quickened their 
 steps when they recognized the two waiting for them. 
 
 Something was wrong for everybody, however, and 
 after the first greetings the four passed almost silently 
 along the Trail to the village settlement. When they 
 were beyond the cabin, the door opened a few inches 
 and the face of Colonel Boniface Penwin peered after 
 them. 
 
 " So this is the lawless land where even children defy 
 their parents. I wish to the devil I'd never brought 
 my family out of Georgia, and yet how could I stay 
 there? The curse of poverty! I hate it. But where 's 
 my power over my family gone? I told Craig and Lucy 
 not to come here to-day. I suppose they chained Tarley 
 up at home. And I have commanded them to let the 
 Darrows and Lamonds alone ! This is how I 'm obeyed. 
 It 's all the result of those damned abolitionists. I won't 
 dare to make a move to-day." 
 
 The cabin door was closed and no sign of life was 
 visible as two horsemen came riding down the Trail. 
 Opposite the little grass-hidden building their horses 
 stopped suddenly. A low, whinnying sound from inside 
 the cabin that caught the hearing of the animals was 
 lost to their riders' ears. It was the call of the roan 
 horse, the same that Elliot had seen a few minutes 
 before. The horsemen passed on to the village. Colonel 
 Penwin waited till they were a safe distance away and 
 then he backed the big roan horse through the rear door 
 of the cabin into the tall grass; and, entering the Trail 
 a little further on, he followed the two men. In his haste 
 he had not noticed little Coke Wren, who had reached 
 the front of the cabin in time to see the whole maneuver. 
 
 " I want to know," Wren drawled. " Is B. Penwin goin'
 
 A PROPHECY 87 
 
 down to worship the Lord or is he followin' those two 
 men? They look like Dow and Branson, from up towards 
 the Wakarusa. And Penwin acts for all the world like a 
 snake wrigglin' out of that tall grass after 'em. They 're 
 real Free-State men, too. I reckon I may as well bring 
 up the rear of this doggoned interestin' procession. 
 ' Last of all come Satan,' Shakespeare, or John Milton, or 
 some other Yankee wrote, or maybe it was in the Good 
 Book. Anyhow, I 'm ' it ' for this parade." 
 
 And so they all came into Palmyra. The preaching 
 was in the upper story of the new Palmyra hotel. The 
 stairway was not completed, and the feet of the wor 
 shipers stumbled in the ascent. There were no walls 
 as yet to divide the second floor into rooms. The seating 
 was a rude improvisation, nothing in all the appointments 
 suggested the sacred temple for divine service except 
 one thing the preacher. He stood beside the crazy 
 little table that held his Bible and hymn book, a tall, 
 dark-skinned man, thin, and full of nervous energy. His 
 voice was pitched in an upper key, and his words came 
 swiftly; short, sharp-pointed words, with no effort at 
 eloquence. 
 
 The settlers, glad of the opportunity for any Sabbath 
 service, would have listened to any grade of speaker 
 with eagerness. But this man, with words and gestures 
 peculiar to himself, had a strange magnetic presence that 
 held his audience spellbound. His text was that wonder 
 ful law of ethics given in the Gospel of John, " Ye shall 
 know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." 
 He was not preaching in a quiet little church in some 
 New England or Virginia hamlet, but to men and women 
 on the frontier line of a great conflict, the vanguard of 
 a generation of State builders, and his vision grew clear 
 and his spirit prophetic as the message of the day came
 
 88 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 to him. It was his first appearance west of the Missouri 
 River, and his knowledge of the Territory had come from 
 reading and testimony. Now he faced a handful of 
 people who were themselves to do what the Eastern 
 folk had only dreamed should be done. And as he looked 
 at them he trembled under the power of the Word he 
 must speak. 
 
 Caught by the magnetism of his voice and unique per 
 sonality, the company listened first to the old sweet 
 story of the Carpenter of Nazareth, the common man, 
 a day laborer, who went forth against his world of bit 
 terness, and hatred, and oppression, and darker sins ; who 
 trod the wine press alone, who was despised and rejected 
 of men, who, at last, in agony of body and deep soul 
 sorrow, climbed his Calvary bearing his heavy cross, 
 giving up his life, his last supremest sacrifice. For what ! 
 Not for Himself, nor his family, nor his tribe, nor his 
 nation, but that down through all the cycles of the cen 
 turies to be, the whole human race should learn from Him 
 its highest duty and opportunity. 
 
 "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay 
 down his life for his friends." The preacher whirled 
 the seventeen short words into the very souls of his 
 hearers. " To the martyr comes the crown and the glory, 
 and not to him who 'gleans up his scattered ashes into 
 history's golden urn.' He who fights and wins in what 
 the world would call sometimes a losing game is build 
 ing, as the Man of Calvary built, a wall of defense for 
 all the people of all the years to follow." 
 
 And then the preacher came straight home to those 
 who sat before him. 
 
 " You hold to-day a land of beauty and promise. You 
 are here to keep from these grand prairies the foul sin 
 that debauches not only those who father it, but all who
 
 A PROPHECY 89 
 
 inherit it. The whole world is the worse to-day for the 
 sin of any nation. The whole world is uplifted to-day by 
 the courage of one true man, one noble woman. 
 
 "You prairie heroes, you men who have chosen to 
 come hither, called by the voice of God Omnipotent, ye 
 shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. 
 Enslaved as the most ignorant black brute in man- 
 form who grovels in the ricefields of the South, more ani 
 mal than man, made animal by man, is that slave whom 
 he must call his master. Stand up as freemen in a free 
 land under the glory of an unstained flag, even the Star- 
 Spangled Banner, and do your duty" 
 
 The preacher paused, and his searching dark eyes 
 seemed to pierce the group and lay bare their souls. It 
 was a wonderful little company, measured by what the 
 years were about to bring to each. The men were gath 
 ered together strong, muscular, coarsely clad, bearded 
 or unshaven, save for two or three ; the women in a little 
 cluster about the babies, nearly equalling them in num 
 ber; and back of these the young people: fresh-cheeked 
 girls, and sturdy boys, tanned, plainly dressed, but with 
 the hope and eagerness of youth in their faces. 
 
 As the speaker's eyes took in the crowd, he noted them 
 all Hiram Darrow, with the clean-cut features of his 
 clean-shaven face; David Lamond, whose strong, manly 
 countenance no man could ignore; Coke Wren, with his 
 beady little eyes cocked at the preacher expectantly and 
 kindly, but managing at the same time to know how 
 everybody else fared about him. Patty had gone down 
 stairs with a fretful baby, giving its frail, inexperienced 
 young mother her first real hour of rest since she had 
 come to Kansas. 
 
 " I reckon ef the Lord puts babies here on His moral 
 footstool He means somebody to take care of *em," Patty
 
 90 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 said to herself. " Ef He wants workers in His vineyard, 
 He's likewise got to have somebody to tend the gates 
 an' take care of the babies of that vineyard. Ef I keep 
 this sweet little thing comfortable an' rest its ma, I'm 
 doin' for one of His'n, all right. I'd ruther be a door 
 keeper er baby-keeper than to dwell in the tents of the 
 Phillisteens." Patty's Scripture was a little mixed, but 
 her heart was straight. 
 
 In the center of the group of men sat John Brown, 
 listening eagerly as if the sermon were meant for him 
 alone. About him were four stalwart young men with 
 earnest faces and simple bearing. They were his sons, 
 who had come west with the same dream that had 
 brought so many of that audience across the Missouri 
 River into Kansas the dream of liberty for all men, 
 free homes on a free soil. 
 
 The two horsemen, Dow and Branson, whom Colonel 
 Penwin had followed into Palmyra, sat in the rear of the 
 room beside the Colonel himself, who had come in last 
 of all. 
 
 Among the women, no other face was so serenely fair 
 and intelligent as the face of the Quaker woman, Isabel 
 Darrow. Any stranger would have singled her out at 
 once; and if he were a thoughtful person would have 
 noted how superior to the others that fine Madonna face 
 seemed to be. If the same stranger had cast about for 
 those who belonged to her there, he would have singled 
 out Elliot at once as her son. 
 
 But no one in all the motley little group had a more 
 sensitive nor more impenetrable countenance than Craig 
 Penwin. 
 
 The preacher's keen gaze swept the audience. Then 
 his voice became wonderfully gentle, with a minor chord 
 of pathos that struck the heart strings to like vibrations :
 
 A PROPHECY 91 
 
 "Men and women of Kansas, my soul is moved to 
 prophetic power. May I not, I who am only a man, but 
 a man chosen this day to speak for my Father, may I 
 not tell to you something of that which reveals itself 
 to me here ? " 
 
 He paused again, but only for a moment. "I see a 
 beautiful land of sunshine and sweet air, a land of oil, 
 olive, and honey, trampled by the feet of foemen, black 
 ened with the fires of burning homes, stained with human 
 blood. 
 
 " I see before me here the men and women, whom 
 the Truth makes free, rise up in God's own might, girded 
 with His strength, to arm the weak and fight for the 
 defenseless. I see the man who shall not look upon 
 another Sabbath day, martyr to the world's great good. 
 I see the man who to-day would have taken his life, 
 but dared not. I see the man clothed in the garments 
 of peace, who shall yet do a great work, and I see a 
 greater man, the greatest of you all, who shall see farthest 
 and clearest the issue of the hour. Black before him 
 will be the way, and slippery with blood the steps up 
 which he must stumble to his own doom. Still greatest 
 is he for that he sees the end from the beginning, aye, sees 
 beyond all these the every-day common things of com 
 mon men's lives the glory of the light beyond him 
 such that earthly eye can not vision nor heart of man 
 comprehend its beauty. He has known the truth and 
 the truth shall make him free. 
 
 "And these young men and women" the preacher's 
 voice grew tenderer still "these boys and girls, I see 
 for you the hard straight line of duty, and sacrifice, of 
 loyalty and love, and a glorious victory in days of 
 peace that shall be yours, albeit for some it comes not
 
 92 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 this side of the open grave. Ye, too, shall know th 
 truth, and the truth shall make you free." 
 
 The little company heard only in a bewildered way the 
 prayer that closed the sermon. They knew it reached to 
 the sublimest heights to which they could lift their 
 souls. Must it not then reach grandly to the Throne of 
 Grace ? 
 
 Followed then the closing hymn: 
 
 God moves in a mysterious way, 
 
 His wonders to perform; 
 He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
 
 And rides upon the storm. 
 
 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
 
 But trust him for his grace; 
 Behind a frowning providence, 
 
 He hides a smiling face. 
 
 Mark Darrow, who had listened eagerly to the ser 
 mon, took no part in the singing. But in all the little 
 congregation no other voice rose with such sweetness 
 and strength as the voice of his brother, Elliot. Quaker 
 children were not encouraged in singing by their severely 
 disciplined parents in those days, and Elliot's power was 
 a natural gift. He sang by ear and instinct, but the 
 richness of his tones put the last measure of uplift into 
 that strange service. 
 
 "Young man, you'll win a battle with that voice of 
 yours some day. Sing loud and clear when that hour 
 comes." The preacher held Elliot's hand long and gazed 
 into his young face. 
 
 " I would rather win with song than with bullets," the 
 young man answered, true to his Quaker principles. 
 
 " You will have to use both in your battles, my boy 
 don't be afraid of either."
 
 A PROPHECY 93 
 
 Elliot turned to see David Lamond's frown of disap 
 proval at his words. Lamond's ideal was a soldier. But 
 this troubled the boy not half so much as the sight of 
 Craig Pen win helping Beth down the uncertain footing 
 of the stairway. When he reached the street, the two 
 were already some distance down the Trail on their 
 homeward way. 
 
 Behind him came Lucy Penwin, her eyes full of 
 tears. 
 
 " Craig has gone off and left me to go home alone," she 
 said, in a tremulous voice, as she struggled between fear 
 and bravado. She had caught sight of her father, 
 although he had slipped away at the first moment, and 
 her consciousness of her disobedience and her real fear 
 of him, a thing she had never known before, and her new 
 determination to have her own way, were making a sad 
 thing of the day for her. And now Craig had deserted 
 her. 
 
 "Never mind Craig, Lucy," Mark Darrow declared 
 over her shoulder. " I 've not got much use for brothers 
 myself." He gave Elliot a thump as he passed. 
 
 As the young man looked after the four going down 
 the way, a loneliness unlike anything he had ever known 
 robbed that Sabbath day for him of all the sunshine 
 Nature had so richly poured into it. 
 
 With the evening, a gray, sullen cloud-bank rose up in 
 the west, and the breeze that had blown balmily all day 
 from the warm south whirled suddenly around to the 
 north, whipping angrily down the land. And that day, 
 with its glorious dawn and sunny noon, went drearily 
 into night even as the day-dream of glorious deeds and 
 heroic endurance gives place to the stern reality of action.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE END OF DREAMS 
 
 The harvest fields are whitening in the sun, 
 The time for idle dreaming now is ended 
 The time for earnest faith and work begun. 
 
 Albert W. Macy. 
 
 MID-NOVEMBER, and the harvests east of the 
 Missouri River were gathered in. Winter would 
 soon make heavy roads and unfavorable weather for 
 emigrants' wagons or marching ranks. In these clear, 
 sharp days now, prairie paths were firm and plundering 
 easy for an invading force. Often after that fair Sun 
 day morning it was recalled that the preacher had said : 
 "I see one among you who shall not see another Sab 
 bath day." The words then had seemed only like words 
 heard in dreams. Before another Sabbath morning 
 dawned, the news that swept the Vinland Valley proved 
 how true a prophet the preacher had been. 
 
 Late in that week Isabel Darrow stood by the door 
 way, one evening, looking anxiously along the Trail 
 toward Palmyra. 
 
 "I wonder what keeps Mark so long," she said. "I 
 told him to hurry home, and now it will soon be dark." 
 
 " I '11 run up to his Darrarat and see if he is in sight," 
 little Joe offered. 
 
 But Elliot, standing behind his mother, said: 
 
 "No use to do that, Joe. He's coming yonder. He 
 and Coke Wren on one horse. I saw them on the east 
 ridge a minute ago. They will be in sight again in 
 
 94
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 95 
 
 another minute, and here in two minutes more. Coke 's 
 always hunting a sprained ankle or a broken arm when 
 he rides." 
 
 "Thee has wonderful eyesight, Elliot. I did not see 
 them," Mrs. Darrow said. 
 
 "'Cept when he's hunting for his own faults. He 
 never sees them," Joe complained. "He teases me some 
 thing scandulous, Mother, Elliot does." 
 
 " Which Joseph likes better than anything else," Elliot 
 declared, picking up the boy and standing him upside- 
 down, on his head. 
 
 " Do it again, Ellie," Joe begged. 
 
 "I can't now, I must be looking up my own faults, 
 Josiah," Elliot answered, playfully. "Here come the 
 conquering heroes, anyhow." 
 
 Coke's little pony fairly tore up the slope to the cabin 
 set among the evergreens. 
 
 "Oh,. mother, it's awful," Mark cried, as soon as they 
 were within the hearing of those waiting at the door. 
 "That young man Dow, that I sat next to in church 
 Sunday, has been shot down in broad daylight, and killed 
 dead, right on the Trail, by a man that lives over there. 
 And they didn't find him for nearly a half day. Just 
 left him lie there in the road. He wasn't armed at all, 
 and that man slipped up behind him and shot him, all 
 defenceless as he was. Dow was Free-State and his mur 
 derer is a Pro-Slavery. He 's cut and run for the Shawnee 
 Mission, where Governor Shannon is, so the Governor 
 will protect him, and Sheriff Jones lives at Westport, 
 right across the border, and he can guard him. Every 
 body in Palmyra is talking about it. Somebody went and 
 burned the old murderer's cabin last night. Wish he had 
 been in it." 
 
 "Mark, Mark, don't speak so," Isabel urged. "They
 
 96 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 had no right to burn any man's property. Would thee 
 be a murderer, too, like this man?" 
 
 " Yes, I would. I 'd kill him." 
 
 Mark's blood was on fire, so his mother wisely let him 
 explode his forces, and turned to Wren. 
 
 "What will come next?" she asked. 
 
 "The Good Bein' only knows, and I hope He cares," 
 Wren answered. "Ef He don't we're lost. The man 
 that killed Dow, his own neighbor, will never be brought 
 to trial. There ain't no law in Kansas, nor no governor, 
 nor no sheriff, no federal power, no right, no justice, no 
 protection, no safety, no life. I tell you, Mrs. Darrow, 
 with God Almighty backin' us, we've got to stand up 
 like a wall of men, with strength in ourselves, His 
 strength, not our'n, and be a law unto ourselves, ef we 
 ever git this here land pulled out of hell excuse me for 
 the word. I mean the one that 's in the Good Book, not 
 the cuss word an' it's about the latitude and longi 
 tude we 're in right now. But we '11 git out, Land o' Nut 
 megs! We ain't the sons of our sires for nothin*. Tell 
 Darrow for him and Elliot to be ready when the call 
 comes for that. Git up, Cotton Mather. You can't stand 
 here on your lazy legs all night. Good evenin'." 
 
 And giving his bridle a twist, the little man was off 
 for his home on the edge of the ravine. 
 
 As Coke predicted, no effort was made to punish the 
 man who had done this murderous deed, and the settle 
 ments along the whole eastern border were in excitement 
 and anger and dread. 
 
 In the Vinland Valley the settlers had much cause for 
 anxiety. Burning the cabin of Dow's murderer had been 
 a rash act, but it gave the enemies of the Free-State 
 people their opportunity, and no man who opposed 
 slavery in Kansas felt that his life or property was safe.
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 97 
 
 In the dusk of the 'evening, three days after Mark had 
 brought the news from Palmyra, Isabel Darrow saw a 
 little group of armed horsemen riding swiftly down the 
 Trail from the east. Hiram had- gone with Coke Wren 
 to Lawrence to urge some plan of protection for the homes 
 in the Vinland Valley. Isabel did not like the appear 
 ance of these armed men, but when they turned aside 
 and dashed up to the front door of the cabin she went 
 fearlessly to meet them. Their air of bravado fell away 
 before her presence. Bullies though they were, they 
 had not any warrant to act here. 
 
 "We wanted to ask where Colonel Boniface Penwin 
 lives," Sheriff Jones, the leader, said. 
 
 " Thee will have to turn back a mile and take the first 
 trail to the southwest," Isabel said kindly, stepping for 
 ward to point out the way. Sheriff Jones lifted his hat 
 to her ; but whisky will do much for a bully, and one man 
 so fortified urged his horse past the Sheriff's toward her. 
 
 " You are a blamed handsome woman," he said insult 
 ingly. "Are you all alone?" 
 
 She was not alone. A stalwart form was in the door 
 way behind her, rising head and shoulders above her, a 
 face as handsome as the woman's face, and fully as white 
 and fearless, appeared suddenly in the twilight. Before 
 Elliot Darrow could speak, a cut from the Sheriff's whip 
 made the bully's horse leap aside, and the whole party 
 sped away in the evening shadows down the Trail. 
 
 Late that night Mark and Elliot sat alone by the fire, 
 when Mark suddenly exclaimed: 
 
 "Elliot, let me tell you something that Lucy told me 
 Sunday. Lucy is a funny girl. She 's not a bit like Beth. 
 She 's nicer, I think." 
 
 "All right. What did she say?" Elliot asked. 
 
 "Say, Ellie, you won't tell, will you?" Mark queried.
 
 98 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "I am not likely to to-night, anyhow, for it takes a 
 week for you to get it out of your own system." 
 
 "Well, well, Lucy is just like her father. She goes 
 to pieces so quick. Craig's got all the self-control in the 
 family." Mark paused, but Elliot said nothing. 
 
 " You know the Penwins lived pretty fine in the South. 
 Lucy says they spent lots of money, and her father is n't 
 happy if he can't just have everything luxurious and 
 spend all he wants to. That was partly why they left 
 Georgia. They had some financial trouble or other." 
 
 "Is that why he came to Kansas? Gloriously luxuri 
 ous living here, I should say," Elliot put in. 
 
 " Lucy is impulsive, cries easy, and laughs easy, and 
 she just can't keep a secret. Going home Sunday she 
 said her father had told her and Craig and Tarley not 
 to have anything more to do with us or Lamonds or 
 Wrens." 
 
 "Good. What are Craig and Lucy and Tarley going 
 to do?" Elliot did not seem so very much distressed. 
 
 " Oh, they were going to just pay no attention to him, 
 but Lucy was scared Sunday, for her father told them 
 not to go to church, and they went, and then she was 
 scared for fear Colonel Penwin would do something 
 awful because I went home with her." 
 
 "What did he say?" Elliot asked. 
 
 "Nothing! I met him just as I was starting home, 
 and I lifted my old cap and said ' Good afternoon.' " 
 
 Elliot smiled at the boy's coolness. 
 
 "He just lifted his hat, like a born gentleman, not a 
 Kansas made one, and said ' Good afternoon, sir.' Craig 's 
 a born gentleman, too. I saw Lucy at the store in Pal 
 myra to-day and she said she was so glad her father has 
 changed again and told them it's all right. 
 
 "What's all right?"
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 99 
 
 " Oh, now, Ellie, it 's all right for us all to go nutting 
 together and to church, and for Craig to go home with 
 Beth, same as you do. Now, do you understand?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 "Then shut up," Mark snapped, and both were silent. 
 
 Colonel Boniface Penwin did not make known to his 
 children the cause for his sudden change of heart, when 
 he reversed his own decision with them. He had always 
 been implicitly obeyed and extravagantly loved by his 
 family. It had been an extraordinary shock to him to 
 find his children openly disregarding his commands, as 
 it had been a shock to them when they found they dared 
 to do it. His first impulse was to bring down a storm 
 of wrath upon their heads. It was Tarleton, his young 
 est born, who had shown him a better way. 
 
 The Colonel had ridden home from the church service 
 at Palmyra determined to bring his children to judg 
 ment. But as he neared the house the sight of little 
 Tarley sitting forlornly alone by the wayside, waiting 
 for him, broke up all parental resolve. 
 
 " Come, baby," he said, affectionately, " were you wait 
 ing for me? " He helped the boy to the saddle bow. 
 
 " You, or Craig, or Lucy ; " Tarley's eyes were full of 
 tears. " I 'm so lonely. I don't have anybody any more." 
 
 " That 's so, Tarley," his father said, soothingly. " You 
 don't disobey like Lucy and Craig, do you?" 
 
 "Why don't you 'tend like what they do is what you 
 want them to do, papa?" Tarley asked, innocently. 
 "I've got lots of things from Craig that I wanted by 
 pretending like I didn't care for them." 
 
 " By George, Tarley, that 's good philosophy. I believe 
 I '11 try it." 
 
 He kissed the boy tenderly as he lifted him from the 
 horse, and sent him into the house. Could Tarley have
 
 100 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 seen his father's face then he would have been shocked 
 at the storm reflected there. Sorrow, love, remorse, and 
 bitter hate, soul passions surging in strife on the 
 battle ground of that finely featured countenance. Coke 
 Wren was right in saying there is no other burden equal 
 to the burden of packing around with one every day the 
 man whom he despises. 
 
 This, then, was how it happened that Boniface Penwin 
 had greeted Mark Darrow with genuine Southern cour 
 tesy when he had escorted Lucy home from Palmyra, 
 and the same principle had led the father to say at 
 dinner : 
 
 "Children, you must get lonely. I don't care if you 
 do make companions to a degree, of course, with the 
 Lamonds and Darrows. But keep in mind who you are 
 and that your father and theirs can never be very 
 friendly." 
 
 Lucy had greeted her father's words with a shout of 
 joy and hugged him lovingly. Craig said not a word, 
 and Colonel Penwin felt for the first time that his eldest- 
 born had gotten from him, and that his authority would 
 be accepted at Craig's discretion, not through his par 
 ental power. And the Colonel was not happier thereby. 
 
 Whether or not Sheriff Jones meant to enlist Boniface 
 Penwin in the seizure of Branson, he left the impression 
 with the Darrow family that that had been his purpose, 
 and the thought of it widened further still the breach 
 between Craig and Elliot. 
 
 The sound of a horse's feet on the hard, white Trail 
 came faintly to the ears of the two boys sitting silently 
 before the fire. 
 
 "I wonder who that can be?" Mark said. "Here's 
 me for my outlook aloft," and he clawed his way up the 
 log angle to his Darrarat nook.
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 101 
 
 Three-quarters of a November moon was shining white 
 and cold overhead. 
 
 " For the love of George Fox and Isaac Pennington, 
 Elliot Darrow, it's Lamond's black horse, and Beth is 
 on it. Run quick; she's coming here." 
 
 Elliot did not wait for the last words. He was out in 
 the white, cold moonlight before the horse and rider had 
 reached the evergreens' shadows. The animal rushed 
 up the slope and straight to where he stood, and Beth 
 slid quickly to the ground. 
 
 "Oh, Elliot," she gasped, and then the evergreens 
 swam before her. 
 
 Elliot would have caught her in his arms to steady her, 
 but she was herself in a moment. Mark came quickly to 
 the bridle rein. 
 
 " Take her in the house, Elliot. I '11 hold Pluto." 
 
 Elliot felt her shiver as he led her into the dark hall, 
 lighted only by the red glow down in the center. How 
 cosy a thing a rough stone fireplace can be when the 
 light is low and the outside world is cold! Beth was 
 chilled by the sharp November night air and the sharper 
 fear that had come with her ride. Elliot put her in 
 Hiram Darrow's big warm-cushioned chair and waited 
 for her to speak. How strong he looked, standing there in 
 the vigor of his young manhood ! How firm-knit his frame, 
 how easy his motions, and gentle the touch of his hand ! 
 And, above all, how handsome the fine face with the 
 heavy dark hair, the keen dark eyes, and the winning 
 smile! A face that more than one woman would love 
 and dream of in the years to come. And then the cabin 
 seemed so strong and safe from the dangers outside. 
 These things came half realized into Beth's mind. 
 
 As for Elliot, he had forgotten how unhappy he had 
 been a week ago. He knew that Beth was there, that
 
 102 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 some trouble was very near, and the chickens were crow 
 ing at some far-away settler's habitation, and that he 
 was very glad for all of these things. 
 
 Beth gave one great sigh of comfort. 
 
 " I was so frightened, I could n't talk at first," she said. 
 " I must hurry back home, for mother is alone and scared 
 as I am. But I 'm all right now." The warm color had 
 come to her pale cheeks. " It was that Indian." 
 
 "What Indian, in heaven's name, Beth? And what 
 brings you here?" Elliot spoke eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, Elliot, I am helping father to spread the news. 
 I went to three other places before I came up here, and 
 right at the edge of the timber, up that little draw, an 
 Indian came out, and I thought he started after me. He 
 rode like it. I could see his blanket and the feathers in 
 his hair. But Pluto outran him." 
 
 "Beth, Indians don't ride at night. Are you sure it 
 was an Indian?" Elliot asked. 
 
 "Oh, I thought so. Maybe I was too scared." She 
 could not help smiling at herself, and her courage took a 
 new grip. "Father has gone with a crowd of men to 
 save a man's life. Sheriff Jones and a gang of despera 
 does went to Mr. Branson's house with a warrant for his 
 arrest to-night, and they have taken him away. Branson 
 was the friend of Dow, the man murdered last week. 
 The pro-slavery men have some flimsy excuse for 
 having him arrested, and they will kill him as soon 
 as they get the chance. All the settlers over that way 
 are after the Sheriff's gang. There are only a few 
 Free-State men west of us, and there is no telling 
 what will happen." 
 
 Beth tried to be brave, but her voice faltered and her 
 eyes filled with tears. Elliot longed to take her in his 
 arms, but he controlled himself.
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 103 
 
 " I won't play the fool every time I have the chance." 
 he said to himself. Then to her he spoke assuringly. 
 
 " Yes, there is some telling what will happen if David 
 Lamond is in the company. There will be plenty of 
 things happening every minute." 
 
 " But father said he had sent word to your father and 
 Coke Wren to meet them at Abbott's place, and they will 
 all be together." 
 
 "Well, Beth, my father is the peace-lovingest man 
 that ever came out of the old Indiana White Water 
 Quaker Yearly Meeting, as we used to say back there, but 
 I wouldn't want to be Sheriff Jones if Hiram Darrow 
 wanted what he had bad enough to go after it. He's 
 no Scotchman," Elliot's eyes twinkled, "and he never 
 carried a gun in his life. We Quakers are not soldiers; 
 but he's not a man to trifle with, as I found out long 
 ago." 
 
 " I hope there will be no danger to-night ; but what I 
 am to do is to tell everybody to go up to Lawrence 
 to-morrow. There will be trouble, and nobody knows 
 what awful thing may happen next. They want all 
 the men to go to Lawrence as soon as they can get there 
 to-morrow morning. I must go now." 
 
 "Wait a minute till I tell mother where I am going, 
 and I '11 go home with you. Who else is to be notified? " 
 
 " You are the last ones. Hadn't you better stay here? 
 I can make Pluto fly over the prairie going home. I am 
 not afraid, now truly. You'd better not leave your 
 mother alone," Beth urged. 
 
 " And you 'd better not say that mother would be alone 
 where Mark can hear you," Elliot said, smiling. " Mark 
 is a game-cock in his own eyes.'* 
 
 The night was crisp and clear. The white Trail glis 
 tened in the dim, frosty light, but the spirit of peace was
 
 104 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 gone from the land, and the two hurried along the way, 
 leading the big black horse after them. 
 
 At the Lamond's cabin Elliot waited a little before he 
 said good-by. The dead vines rattled drearily about the 
 stone pillars now, and there was no genial air to make 
 the night pleasant. 
 
 "Are you going to Lawrence, too?" Beth asked as 
 Elliot turned to say good-night. " You won't leave your 
 mother, will you? " 
 
 "Yes, I'm going to start early. Mother is the most 
 fearless woman I ever saw. And as I said at home, Mark 
 will be there, arid Joe, too. Don't forget Joe. The days 
 do change patterns here, don't they, Beth?" 
 
 He had taken her hand. It was cold, and he held it a 
 moment in his warm palm. 
 
 " Beth," he spoke gently. " I am so sorry and ashamed 
 for what I did that I had no right to do the last night I 
 was here. I mean that moonlight night in October." 
 
 "For what you told Craig?" Beth said coldly. 
 
 The sting of the young Southerner's words was bitter 
 again in her memory. And then her pulse beat fast, for 
 Elliot was very near her and his touch was so gentle, 
 yet so strong. She was angry that she cared at all for 
 what he might say to her, since he had spoken so care 
 lessly of her. She just wanted everything to go back 
 and be as it had been once. 
 
 " Let 's forget and start over." Her voice would trem 
 ble. 
 
 "I cannot forget nor start over," Elliot answered, 
 frankly. " But I never told Craig anything. Did he say 
 I did?" 
 
 Beth could not have said a word more in explanation. 
 She was but a timid girl in things like these. 
 
 "I am sorry you try to deny anything," she said,
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 105 
 
 firmly, trying to withdraw her hand, but Elliot held it 
 fast and took her other hand as well. 
 
 " Beth, Beth," his voice was deep and sweet and he 
 looked down steadily into her face. " I never told Craig 
 anything. I haven't anything to deny. Good-night," 
 and he left her. 
 
 The little November moon was covered with gray 
 clouds and the night was very cold. Elliot did not fol 
 low the Trail, but, as was his custom, took the shortest 
 line across the open prairie toward a light glimmering 
 like a beacon faintly to the eastward. 
 
 " Mark must have put a lantern up in his Darrarat for 
 me," he said. " He 's a good boy to think of it. I don't 
 need any light, but it is a friendly thing to see." 
 
 Far and wide there was no other light on the plain, 
 swept by the drear November wind, and the world looked 
 big and dull and lonely. Down in a shallow draw, where 
 sometimes after rainy weather a little stream ran toward 
 the ravine, a few rock layers jutted out, making a darker 
 spot of shade. Even in the dim light Elliot's quick eye 
 noted that the shade was too big for the rock, and he 
 started toward the place. 
 
 " It looks like somebody lying there, but it isn't," he 
 thought. "It's a bed quilt. No, it's a blanket, and a 
 hole. Somebody has been digging here." 
 
 He stooped and lifted a coarse dark blanket from the 
 ground. Three or four white turkey quills were sticking 
 in its rough meshes. 
 
 "Beth's Indian!" he exclaimed. "Is that White Tur 
 key Delaware running loose down here or is somebody 
 playing Indian? From all I ever heard of them, the Dela- 
 wares don't put up this kind of a trick at night. But 
 you can't tell. Maybe he was digging for some hidden 
 treasure."
 
 106 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 He rolled the blanket up and threw it under the rock 
 shelf. 
 
 "Some poor, cold settler might find that and take it 
 home, and fight vermin or worse for a year. The Indians 
 are a dirty lot. I '11 hide it under there till later. Maybe 
 this White Turkey left the rest of his raiment some 
 where out here, too, and went home this cold night wear 
 ing only his warpaint and a vengeful expression. I'll 
 come back by daylight and look for it soon." 
 
 Elliot had not only a plainsman range of vision, he had 
 the sense of hearing that goes with it. As he reached 
 the top of the swell beyond the dip in the prairie, he 
 heard far away the sound of a horse's feet. He listened ; 
 then put his ear to the ground to get the direction. The 
 sounds grew fainter, and were lost in the west some 
 where. 
 
 "If Coke Wren wasn't at Lawrence to-night I would 
 say that was his pony, Cotton Mather. It has such a 
 funny hop. But he didn't ride the pony; he went with 
 father and some Palmyra men." 
 
 Elliot was puzzled. " It could n't be Patty. And yet 
 it's hard to tell what that little pigeon will do. Oh, 
 well, it may be anybody the Indian, likely, hunting his 
 blanket or his tepee. It 's going west, whatever it is." 
 
 Elliot stood still on the top of the swell and looked out 
 over the Vinland Valley, a shadowy land lying like a 
 dim sea reaching on to the limit of blank darkness. He 
 recalled with wonderful keenness the warm, lazy after 
 noon in October when he and Beth and Craig had sat 
 through the hour looking out on this same valley, so dull 
 and cold to-night. 
 
 " Beth was right," he murmured, half aloud. " Every 
 day brings its new pattern to be worked out, and we 
 are changing every day. I wonder where Craig is to-
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 107 
 
 night. Beth didn't go over to Penwin's, too, when she 
 came to give us word of to-morrow's work. And yet she 
 thinks of Craig, I know, or she wouldn't quote him so 
 much." 
 
 He gazed eagerly down to where the heaviest shadows 
 far away marked Lamond's little stone cabin in the 
 valley. 
 
 "There is something wrong about the Penwins. The 
 Colonel is bitter against all of us because we are Aboli 
 tionists, but somehow none of us blame Craig., Where 
 would he stand if the test comes? Not with us, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 The young man turned to go, half consciously waving 
 his hand toward the Lamond home. 
 
 " Good-by, Beth. I wish I knew what Craig could 
 have said. I 've always thought him honorable, even if 
 I don't like him. I wish I knew, too, how much she 
 cares for him." 
 
 Then he set his teeth together and a stern look came 
 into his dark eyes. 
 
 "I may as well face the truth. There isn't anybody 
 else in the world like Beth. Will she ever think the same 
 of me? She must. I can wait, but I will win." 
 
 He threw a kiss toward the shadowed valley and 
 started on his way. 
 
 " What will happen up at Lawrence? " he mused. " We 
 are through with talking now out here. We must be 
 doing things. I wonder how it would seem to be back 
 East again. I had a kind of a sweetheart there last year. 
 I had about forgotten her, for she wasn't a real sweet 
 heart, either. That was before I knew Beth. There 
 isn't any of this trouble in Indiana, but I wouldn't go 
 back there if I could." 
 
 And the young man, striding through the gloom of
 
 108 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the night, gave greater promise of what should rule a 
 State than rows of cannon on stoutest breastwork could 
 offer. 
 
 Meanwhile far in the west the pattering feet of Coke's 
 pony, Cotton Mather, clicked hard on the Trail as its 
 rider urged it toward the deepening gloom of the horizon. 
 
 Elliot had guessed right. It was Patty Wren alone 
 on the dark trail along which strange drunken horsemen 
 had so recently ridden. 
 
 " I can outrun 'em, or I can dodge 'em, and I want to 
 know now, does enybody reckon I'd let a lone woman 
 be left scared to death, and me just set there on the edge 
 of that ravine like a guinea that had stole 'd her nest? I 
 ain't that kind of a chicken. Ef we want liberty here, 
 we 'd better be doin' somethin' for it." 
 
 Patty talked to herself and she had the same drawl 
 that marked Coke's provincial tongue. But if she was 
 slow of speech, she was swift in action. An hour before 
 she had been riding on the same errand that had sent 
 Beth to the Darrow home. As she returned to her little 
 cabin the thought of Coke made her lonely. And then 
 the thought of her loneliness if Coke should never come 
 again, made vivid to her what this night must mean to 
 a frightened woman miles away, whose husband was even 
 then in the hands of a brutal gang under pretence of 
 arrest by Sheriff Jones. 
 
 "Poor Mis' Branson! And them men may kill Bran 
 son to-night. I'd put on my brown alpacky dress and 
 go to his funeral to-morrow. I'll just tie my hood 
 on tight and go to her this night. Lord save me ef 
 I don't." 
 
 So that was how it happened that Elliot had heard 
 Cotton Mather's feet on the Trail. And that was why a 
 terror-stricken woman alone in her cabin saw God's
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 109 
 
 providence come in the form of a settler's funny little 
 peaked-face wife. 
 
 " There was a big crowd of men here yesterday. Free- 
 State men, planning how to avenge the murder of Mr. 
 Dow, but there was nobody to help us this night when 
 we were all alone. The Sheriff and his men rushed in 
 here after we had gone to bed." Mrs. Branson told Patty 
 this in the early morning hours as the two sat alone in 
 the dark cabin, afraid to have a light. "They took my 
 husband away with them. He didn't even have time to 
 put on clothes enough to keep him warm. They started 
 off north. I don't know what they'll do." She wrung 
 her hands in grief. " They had a warrant to arrest him. 
 He never harmed a man in his life." 
 
 "And neither ain't he goin' to be harmed, Mis' Bran 
 son," Patty said, soothingly. "The settlers clear from 
 Lawrence to Palmyra will be up in arms. They'll git 
 your man away from that Sheriff's ruffians soon or late, 
 an' there won't be a hair or hide of him hurt. He won't 
 be put in no jail." 
 
 " I 'm afraid the men will kill him first," moaned Mrs. 
 Branson. 
 
 " No, they won't. No, they won't," urged Patty, strok 
 ing the woman's hand with her smooth, hard little claw. 
 " They 's a Good Bein' won't let 'em." 
 
 And Patty was right. A dozen men, fully half of them 
 unarmed, but none of them afraid, who had heard the 
 news that night, had gathered in the path of the Sheriff 
 and his victim. The bitter air chilled them, but the need 
 for action kept their hearts warm. Winthrop Meiriford 
 was in command of the company, with David Lamond 
 aiding him. Coke Wren and Hiram Darrow, without 
 weapons of any kind, were the least fearful of the out 
 come.
 
 110 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "They're comin', boys," Coke spoke low. "I hear 
 'em down south. Reckon they think if they can git 
 Branson up to Lecompton they '11 have him safe." 
 
 The men huddled together as they waited beside a 
 settler's homestead. 
 
 "Steady, boys; don't fire unless you have to," Merri- 
 ford commanded. 
 
 " But if there must be a war let it begin here," David 
 Lamond added, remembering the Minute Men of '75 on 
 the Lexington Common. 
 
 Down the road came the sound of horses' feet. With 
 curses and coarse jeers, with whisky bottles and swinging 
 rope ends suggesting torture and death, an irregular 
 squad of a score or more of armed men hurried through 
 the dark toward the house beside which the little group 
 stood. In the midst of this mob was their prisoner, so 
 thinly clad he seemed almost exhausted with the cold. 
 For miles he had heard nothing but threats and taunts, 
 until at last, when the Sheriff declared, "You'll never 
 see the inside of any jail," Branson had answered, " Let 
 it come quick, then." 
 
 "We don't need to be quick with this hangin'," the 
 man next the Sheriff exclaimed, with an oath. "There 
 was a hundred men at your house yesterday bragging 
 of what they 'd do to us fellows, but you 've got no friends 
 to help you now, and if you had we could put a hundred 
 of them on the run in two minutes. Every man here's 
 good for three Free-State men at least." 
 
 They were near the cabin now, and the little group of 
 men showed dimly in the gray light. The score and 
 more good-for-three-men each fronted the half-score and 
 two, and the test of courage was on. 
 
 "Ride on t'other side of the house, and ride hard," 
 ordered Sheriff Jones, and the band obeyed.
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 111 
 
 But before them on the other side of the cabin the 
 settlers again lined up. 
 
 The horsemen halted. 
 
 " What 's up? " demanded Jones. 
 
 "That's what we want to know what's up?" Mer- 
 riford answered, and then he asked: 
 
 "Is Mr. Branson with you?" 
 
 " I am here, a prisoner." Branson spoke now. 
 
 "Ride out to our side," Merriford commanded, and 
 Branson obeyed. 
 
 There were only a dozen men on foot, half of them 
 without weapons, and they stood before twice that num 
 ber of armed men on horseback. But men are not 
 counted by numbers when they stand up as a wall in 
 defence of the right. 
 
 " I '11 shoot you if you move," Sheriff Jones roared at 
 Branson. " I'll bring two thousand men here from Mis 
 souri in two days. There won't be a man left of you. 
 We '11 hang you all and burn your houses and paint your 
 wives black and sell 'em for niggers." Jones was in a 
 fury now; while a volley of oaths and a belching forth 
 of direst threats of vengeance, degradation, and torture 
 made chorus to his solo. But not a Free-State settler 
 flinched. 
 
 "Go your way. We are done with you," Merriford 
 declared, as he drew off his outer coat and wrapped it 
 around Branson's shoulders. 
 
 " But I 'm not done with you, you Yankee Abolition 
 ists, you idiotic dreamers," Sheriff Jones burst out. " I '11 
 show you what it means to stop an officer of the law. 
 Your day is only beginnin'. You can quit your dreamin' 
 about what you call your liberty and git out and fight 
 for it." 
 
 "I want to know, hain't we got out now for liberty,
 
 112 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 but there hain't no apparent need of fightin' any," Coke 
 Wren drawled in his quaint way. "We got to pick 
 somebody nearer our own size for that, it seems." 
 
 With viler threats and nuch foul abuse, the mob turned 
 about and rode furiously away. 
 
 " Let 's get this man to Lawrence as soon as we can," 
 Merriford urged. "The Sheriff is right. The dream of 
 liberty is ending. From this time it will be a sacrifice 
 for it." 
 
 "It's ten miles to Lawrence. Branson, are you good 
 for it?" Lamond asked. 
 
 "I'll do my best," Branson answered, in a choking 
 voice. " You men don't know how good you seem to me. 
 I expected to be hung within an hour." 
 
 "Say, did you ever see a king?" questioned Wren, 
 close to Branson's side. "Ef you never did, look at 
 Winthrop Merriford stridin' along there, an* that Scotch 
 man, Lamond. He'd a' shot first if it had a' been real 
 necessary, an' Darrow s not scared o' nothin' on the 
 Lord's footstool. Ain't they a set of real men, now? 
 Dreamin' of Liberty ! Well, I reckon they '11 make their 
 dreams come true ef they pay out their heart's blood 
 for it." 
 
 "And what about Coke Wren, if Merriford is a king 
 among men?" a good-natured settler next to the little 
 Yankee asked. 
 
 " Oh, I reckon I 'm the king's fool, but if they think I 
 just dream of doin' things and don't das to do 'em, I'll 
 keep on foolin' 'em plenty and to spare." 
 
 The morning breeze threshed down the Wakarusa with 
 a biting cold as, weary and chill and footsore from their 
 ten miles' hurried march, the little band of men with him 
 whom they had rescued from torture and cruel death 
 crept toward the village of Lawrence. In each man's
 
 THE END OF DREAMS 113 
 
 heart he knew that Sheriff Jones had spoken truly that 
 deeds and not words must count now in the building of 
 a State. And they steeled their spirits to whatever sac 
 rifice the days should ask of them.
 
 PART TWO 
 
 THE SACRIFICE 
 
 By all for which the martyrs bore their agony and shame; 
 By all the warning words of truth with which the prophets came; 
 By the Future which awaits us; by all the hopes which cast 
 Their faint and trembling beams across the blackness of the Past; 
 And by the blessed thought of Him who for Earth's freedom 
 
 died, 
 
 O my people! O my brothers! let us choose the righteous side. 
 
 Whittier.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 
 
 Laughed out the true Daughters, " All men shall behold 
 How we clothe her in Samite and crown her with gold!" 
 But the bitter ones cried, "Though her meadows be sweet, 
 We will drench them with blood till she kneels at our feet!" 
 
 Amanda T. Jones. 
 
 LIKE ocean tides sweeping in from illimitable, watery 
 spaces which no man can measure, the bleak Decem 
 ber winds swept the open Kansas plains. And although 
 the uplands were colorless and the Vinland Valley was 
 only a waste of dead grasses with a black tracery of 
 leafless .boughs along its sheltered waterways, the shin 
 ing silvery heavens were never so glorious, nor did purple 
 dawn and scarlet sunset lose one unit of their splendor. 
 The world God made lay peacefully beautiful in its win 
 ter resting time. Not so the world of man threshed with 
 the flail of men's bitter passions. 
 
 Along the old Santa Fe Trail a noisy crew came scurry 
 ing in disorder; drunken men, boasters, bullies, gathered 
 from the mud-banks of the Missouri, all rushing to the 
 rallying ground on the Wakarusa. They were heavily 
 armed. They rode steeds of as nondescript variety as the 
 class of beings to which they themselves belonged. Their 
 words were mingled with oaths and coarse jests, and the 
 one slogan and rallying cry of this outlaw pack was 
 " Death to the Yankees." The mad rout of these prairie 
 pirates was but the joyous response of the forces over 
 the eastern border to the call of Sheriff Jones. Nor did 
 
 117
 
 118 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the call come unexpectedly to their ears. Their time 
 was ripe, his word their signal to begin. 
 
 The Sheriff had been true to the threat made to the 
 rescuers of Branson. He promised them that they 
 should suffer in full for their act of opposing an officer 
 of the law. Like the autumn prairie fires of the short 
 grass plains, the howl of Sheriff Jones swept along the 
 land, gathering volume as it rolled eastward, the cry 
 that Kansas was in a state of rebellion, that mob rule 
 was supreme, that officers of the law were powerless 
 to act, that no Pro-Slavery man's life was safe, that 
 nothing short of a force of hundreds of armed men could 
 restore civil peace. And loudest of all did Jones bellow 
 forth the edict that Lawrence must not be left with one 
 stone upon another. 
 
 It was not, however, to the law-abiding men of the 
 Kansas Territory to whom he appealed for aid in sup 
 pressing the rebels within her borders, but to the Mis 
 souri militia, with whatever of volunteer service that the 
 rabble always furnishes in the hey-day of licensed law 
 lessness. It must have been that the very winds that 
 swept across the eastern boundary bore his cry thither. 
 Else in a land without telegraph or telephone how should 
 such a horde have heard and answered so quickly? With 
 any sort of man who would carry arms, on any sort of 
 steed that would carry a man, and with a wagon bearing 
 ammunition, provisions, and the inevitable jug of the 
 Tonic of Ambition, they came forth by bands for one 
 purpose to wipe from the land every vestige save 
 the spilled blood of the Yankee settler and the Free- 
 State Abolitionist 
 
 Fifteen hundred strong, they gathered on the banks of 
 the Wakarusa, and their camp fires signaled hatred, de 
 struction, loot, and murder to that defenceless land
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 119 
 
 through which the Wakarusa wanders on its way to meet 
 the Kaw. They wanted to fight, this valiant host, else 
 they would not have volunteered; they wanted to kill, 
 else they would not fight; they wanted to plunder and 
 destroy, else fighting and killing were a waste of energy. 
 This invading band was increased by the Pro-Slavery 
 men of the Territory, but they were a mere handful 
 without the alien force brought in to win the struggle 
 to a cause alien to Kansas. All these centered on the 
 Wakarusa banks facing Lawrence. 
 
 For Lawrence, too, was a rallying ground, the center 
 and source of the Territory's rebellious strength. The 
 best blood of New England was in Lawrence. The voice 
 of Massachusetts, 
 
 For us and for our children, the vow that we have given 
 For freedom and humanity is registered in heaven; 
 
 was the voice of Lawrence likewise in these daring days. 
 With the sack and pillage of this town, the houses burned 
 and the citizens routed or forever stilled, the Free-State 
 power in Kansas could never rally again. 
 
 The border towns were hot-beds of Pro-Slavery forces 
 already. The scattered settlers could be dealt with. Grim 
 term that, " dealt with " ! Heaven save those who might 
 be so "dealt with." Eighteen months had passed 
 wherein the Territory had been the scene of all manner of 
 lawlessness, from petty annoyance to vilest outrage. The 
 Free-State citizens had so patiently endured it all that 
 they came to be regarded as having no resisting spirit, 
 and this one blow at Lawrence would finish them, so the 
 enemies to the Territory reasoned. The story of the 
 West would be written then along vastly different lines. 
 But this blow must be struck now.
 
 120 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 And so it was that in these December days in all the 
 scattered settlements, the little pioneer homes were left 
 with only the protection of the mothers, while the fathers 
 went hurrying up to Lawrence at the call of the higher 
 duty. With all speed the word was sent from claim to 
 claim, and up from all the fair valleys strong men came 
 eagerly to the defence of the town marked for doom, the 
 aftermath of whose destruction would be the easy oblit 
 eration of the separated, unorganized settlements. These 
 earnest men came for defence in a just cause, and 
 only in defence should a hand be lifted against the invad 
 ing gang who sought their lives. 
 
 And so it was that in these December days the little 
 town of Lawrence was fortified round about by earth 
 works, hastily thrown up and patrolled by relays of 
 organized forces. And while all men wore the garb of 
 civil life, and the business of the place went quietly for 
 ward, down in the open plain the volunteer soldiery under 
 Colonel Lane drilled silently and steadily; and in the 
 town the women molded bullets for the men; and all 
 awaited expectantly the hour of vengeful strife. 
 
 So a week went by, a gloomy seven days of increasing 
 heaviness. By incessant labor five fortifications had been 
 erected to guard the river and the land entrance to the 
 besieged town. Day and night in the chill early winter 
 days the men worked to strengthen the defence. Along 
 either side of Massachusetts Street, a wide roadway that 
 should one day grow into a broad avenue, intrenchments 
 were thrown up. Sentinels were set night and day on 
 the high places, and every force that could offer aid and 
 protection was called into action. And all the while on 
 the bleak top of Mount Oread, where its colors could be 
 seen and its message read for miles and miles, the Stars 
 and Stripes floated bravely out in proud serenity. But
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 121 
 
 in the event of an attack there was no cannon for defence, 
 ammunition was quite insufficient, food supplies were re 
 duced, the increasing number in the enemy's camp was 
 known to a certainty, and, crowning all, the United 
 States Government had authorized the course of Gov 
 ernor Shannon and Sheriff Jones, and the Border held 
 men and means ready to reinforce both. 
 
 In the evening of one of the darkest of these days a 
 company of men gathered for council in Winthrop Merri- 
 ford's office; leading men they were who that day held 
 the fate of the Territory in their grasp. Among them 
 were Dr. Robinson, conservative and capable, and 
 Colonel Lane, aggressive and resourceful. And by the 
 law of attraction the remaining numbers were grouped 
 around the one or the other of these two. Lamond sat 
 next to Lane ; a brawny Scot he appeared that night, with 
 other big, determined men about him. Merriford and 
 Coke Wren fitted into the group around Robinson ; while 
 belonging to neither one, yet high in the esteem of every 
 man there, Hiram Darrow sat with thoughtful but un 
 clouded face. By his side was John Speer, editor and 
 patriot, whose life story is also the story of Lawrence 
 and her struggles. 
 
 "What of the hour?" was each man's query as they 
 settled themselves into the limited space of the narrow 
 room. 
 
 "We must think for ourselves and for those who 
 depend on our direction before we act," Doctor Robinson 
 said. 
 
 "But let us not think too long, and act too slowly," 
 Lane exclaimed. " There are fifteen hundred men in the 
 camp on the Wakarusa, all primed to annihilate us. We 
 have perhaps five hundred men here in Lawrence. There 
 are three to one, you see. We cannot expect that many
 
 122 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 more will get into town to join us, for we are surrounded 
 by our enemies and the south and west fords are all 
 guarded. I don't know how many more those fellows 
 over there may count on joining them. It will be two 
 to one and to spare, anyhow. In an open battle the odds 
 would be heavy." 
 
 "But if it is necessary I would risk it," Lamond 
 asserted. "We can't expect to take Gibraltar with a 
 bombardment of boiled peas. We are here to defend 
 this place to the last." He looked the part he would be 
 expected to play in this grim tragedy, not as a prize 
 fighting bully, but as a big, determined, courageous man. 
 
 " Lawrence is on the defensive. Absolutely there is 
 no rebellion against the Government here," Merriford 
 declared. "If we could once get Governor Shannon to 
 understand us, we would feel safe; as it is, we must 
 strengthen the fortifications and wait for their action." 
 
 " It will be hard work to do that," Lamond declared. 
 "The men here are leaving their homes unprotected. 
 They want to finish this thing and get back to their 
 claims. There are women and children alone and de 
 fenceless that need them every day. What do you say, 
 Barber?" turning to a young man who sat next to him. 
 
 " Mr. Lamond is right," Barber agreed. " When I left 
 home I promised my wife to be back soon. She was 
 almost beside herself with fear and anxiety then. For 
 myself, I cannot get home too soon. The women have 
 the worst of this, anyhow. But I am here to see it 
 through, and while I believe in the defensive policy only, 
 I know the men are anxious and the outlook is gloomy. 
 Being on the defensive may not change results." 
 
 " We need more than men here," Lane said. " Loaded 
 wagons from Missouri were stopped and overhauled yes 
 terday at the Wakarusa ford. We are running low on
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 123 
 
 provisions and ammunition, and these wagons were 
 bringing supplies of both to Lawrence," and Lane 
 frowned darkly at the thought of the loss. Then he 
 added, " I wish I knew the conditions in their camp." 
 
 " There 's not a man of us here who dares, on peril of 
 his life, to go far enough from town to get anything or 
 find out anything," Doctor Robinson added. " No friend 
 of Lawrence could get by their guns. It would be suicide 
 for the one who risked it, and homicide for us to per 
 mit it." 
 
 " I want to know," Coke Wren broke in ; " then I 'm up 
 for a double crime. I took myself out of here last night. 
 That 's suicide in the first degree. And I was consenting 
 and held the coats of the fellows, so to speak, who suf 
 fered me to go. I 'm them fellows. That's unjustifiable 
 homicide. I've been all over their camp since seven 
 o'clock last night, and I'd have been there longer if 
 Colonel Penwin had n't been in my way, headin* me off." 
 
 "Why haven't you told us before?" demanded Rob 
 inson, 
 
 " Been waiting to have my sentence pronounced first," 
 Coke answered. "Now I know I'm a suicide and a 
 homicide, I can tell just what to count on." 
 
 "Oh, go on, Wren," Merriford urged. "Tell us the 
 situation." 
 
 " Grave, very grave," Wren resumed. " A few gentle 
 men of Colonel Boniface Penwin's type. And they are 
 dangerous, for they're the brains of the crowd. Then 
 there's the official board, Jones and his superior and 
 inferior officers, who are in command. The rest just 
 pauperize all description. But they all have a few points 
 in common. They all want a fight, and they all want to 
 kill somebody, bad, and they all want whisky, and they 
 all want to get this job pushed through. The camp ain't
 
 124 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 no cavalry quarters like West Point, and the big cry is 
 to rush on to Lawrence immediately. They can't be held 
 back much longer if something doesn't happen. They 
 figure they can swoop down here and beat us into the 
 bushes in one sitting." 
 
 "When is that to be?" Lamond asked. 
 
 "Oh, quick. They asked me all about our defences. 
 They took me for one of 'em, that's the way I look." 
 And Wren gave a comical twist to his face, that only 
 he could effect. 
 
 "You seemed to be safe enough," Doctor Robinson 
 said with a smile. 
 
 " I was all right till Penwin caught sight of me. Then 
 I just faded away in the dark and made for Lawrence." 
 
 "How did you get by their men at the Wakarusa 
 crossing?" Lane asked. "They keep that guarded night 
 and day." 
 
 Coke stiffened at this. "There's the place of suicide 
 and homicide, sure. I see four big men, all armed, 
 standin' up in my road, and at the same minute they see 
 me. So I just called out my New England reserves, and 
 I stalked along, singin' out loud some old sailor song that 
 hadn't been in my head for twenty year. When they 
 called 'Halt,' I just stalked right on, limpin' a little and 
 slouchy. It just took 'em by surprise, and one of 'em 
 say, ' Why don't you stop? ' ' I ain't got no call to stop,' 
 I says ; ' I 'm late as it is.' ' Where are you goin' ? ' says 
 the spokesman. 'Where I darn please,' I answers. An' 
 then one of 'em with shootin' irons dangerous and a good- 
 sized bowie-knife steps close to me an' after eyein' me 
 a minute it seemed more like a year he says, 'Aw, 
 let 'im go ; he 's a half-idiot that belongs to a family livin' 
 down by the Kaw.' An' I come over the Wakarusa dry 
 shod."
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 125 
 
 " You think they mean to make the attack soon, then? " 
 Merriford suggested. 
 
 "At the first minute they feel sure we are at their 
 mercy. Consarn 'em! That's the lawlessest gang of 
 robbers an' cut-throats that ever had decent men in 
 their midst. Some of 'em, a precious few, but some, 
 ought to know better 'n ever to be caught in among 'em. 
 Men like Penwin, now. He is a gentleman, 'most ways." 
 
 Darrow and Lamond exchanged glances as each re 
 called the evening hour at the Hole in the Rock. 
 
 "I heard something else, and that's the worst of all 
 to me!" Coke went on. "They're tellin' all over the 
 camp that the Delawares and Shawnees is to join 'em 
 soon. A lot of wild savages could be no worse in that 
 camp, but the mixin' sounds bad. And yet, I ain't real 
 scared of none of *em." 
 
 Nor was any other man scared. By the dim light of 
 the office lamp every man's face looked brave and deter 
 mined, but the burden of the time and the peril that the 
 day might bring, not to these alone, but to all they 
 loved, put lines of care into every face, and made each 
 heart beat anxiously. It was the darkest hour the Terri 
 tory had yet known. In the silence that followed Coke's 
 recital the helplessness of the little town seemed never 
 so great as now, and in each man's mind the question of 
 how to meet the issues of the hour cried for an answer, 
 and with each the belief in the victory of the smaller host 
 against the larger was burdened by a heavy uncertainty. 
 
 The stillness of the room was broken by Hiram Dar- 
 row's voice, calm, gentle, but nothing faltering. " It will 
 be fair again to-morrow, and the night will soon be gone. 
 Every step of our way will open clear before us, but we 
 cannot take to-morrow's step to-night. We should stum 
 ble if we tried it. We cannot fail. I believe we shall not
 
 126 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 even be asked to shed human blood. Our times are in 
 God's hands. Let us meet here again in the morning 
 and see what the day demands of us then. Good-night," 
 and he left the room. 
 
 " There 's a man for you ; sounds like hammerin' on old 
 Plymouth Rock when he talks. Do you s 'pose he 'd fight 
 if there was a war right now? " Coke Wren asked. 
 
 " I can't tell," Merriford answered, " but I don't believe 
 he'd run. Those Quakers are made of queer timber. 
 You never can break them. Excellent foundation on 
 which to build a community or a State, though." 
 
 " Darrow is the salt of the earth," Lamond said, " but 
 he's eternally set in his doctrine of 'peace on earth.' 
 Kansas seems to have been left out of that scheme some 
 how. However, he's right about to-night. Let's see 
 what to-morrow will bring." And the company broke up. 
 
 In the gray light of the early morning Winthrop Mer 
 riford heard a gentle tapping outside his window. 
 
 "Who's there?" he called softly, as the signal had 
 suggested. 
 
 Outside in the dim light stood a Delaware Indian. 
 
 Merriford lifted the sash and asked : " What 's the mat 
 ter now?" 
 
 "Me, White Turkey," came the answer. 
 
 "Well, come in, White Turkey. Why didn't you go 
 to the door in the first place?" 
 
 "Him here?" the Indian asked. 
 
 "Whom do you mean?" queried Merriford. 
 
 " Him, me not want him, Jupe," answered White Tur 
 key. 
 
 "Oh, I see," muttered the lawyer. "Aristocracy of 
 hue. Copper is copper, and yellow brown is yellow 
 brown." Then aloud he said, " No, Jupe is n't here right 
 now; come in."
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 127 
 
 But when he reached the front door Jupe stood ready 
 to open it. 
 
 "Thank you, Jupe," he said, smoothly. "You may 
 go to bed again." 
 
 Merriford thought Jupe's action peculiar, for he man 
 aged to so open the door that the Indian did not see 
 him, and the lawyer felt sure that he did not follow out 
 the permission given him to go to bed. 
 
 " Let him listen if he wants to. It will help me to the 
 end of the problem sooner," and Merriford led the Indian 
 into the parlor and closed the door. 
 
 White Turkey stood with folded arms, ignoring the 
 invitation to take a seat. 
 
 " Me quick." He spoke easily now. " At midnight in 
 big wigwam white men come, one, two, three, four," he 
 told off on his fingers, "all big men, gather all braves 
 into big wigwam. Promise Delawares gold and whisky 
 to go to Wakarusa camp. Help burn Lawrence. Help 
 kill medicine man Robinson, Colonel Lane, Lamond, 
 Darrow, Merriford, John Speer. All these sure, and more. 
 Braves listen. Chiefs tell Sheriff Jones' men, ' We wait. 
 Come again,' Men go back. White Turkey follow. 
 Hear men say, ' Delawares get drunk, they all go to 
 Wakarusa.' Men say, 'Tell everybody now Delawares 
 have already promised. Scare white men. Scare white 
 women. Ugh ! ' " 
 
 "What will the Delawares do, White Turkey?" Mer 
 riford asked, with a shudder as he pictured what added 
 horror an Indian massacre would produce. 
 
 The Delaware's face was utterly expressionless as 
 though the soul behind it were void of all sympathy. 
 He waited his own time, then answered slowly : " Dar 
 row. Him be killed, too. Specially killed. Darrow's 
 squaw, white face, like lily on Horse-Shoe Lake. White
 
 128 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 squaw kind. Let White Turkey sleep in warm house, 
 eat, drink, rest. While winds blow and Wakarusa run 
 down to the Kaw, Delawares not let hair of white 
 woman's head be touched." 
 
 "Good for you, my boy; that's all we ask of you," 
 Merriford exclaimed. 
 
 But the Indian was not satisfied. " Delaware braves 
 help Lawrence men if white men want braves. We 
 wait." 
 
 " Thank you, White Turkey. We will let you know if 
 we need you. We do not want to fight, nor mean to 
 fight unless we must, but we will protect our homes and 
 we will not give up our right to live here. Come into the 
 office this morning; I want to talk to you there." 
 
 As the Indian turned to go Merriford recalled that he 
 had not wished to have Jupe see him, and wondered why. 
 
 "Just a minute, my friend," he said, kindly. "Will 
 you tell me why you did n't want Jupe to know you were 
 here?" 
 
 The stolid coppery face almost changed its expression. 
 Almost, but settled back into a bronze firmness. 
 
 " Jupe know why," he answered, and the lawyer would 
 not question him further. 
 
 "All right. Be sure to let Jones and his gang wait 
 long enough for your answer to them," and Merriford 
 led the way into the hall. 
 
 Jupe stood by the door to open it. The Indian was 
 swift-footed. With a stride he shot through the door 
 and was gone. To a man less quick-witted this was all 
 that happened, but Merriford was alert and he caught 
 the Indian's low " Don't tell yet," as he passed the negro, 
 and the quick response of intelligence in Jupe's face, 
 whose countenance, unlike the Indian, he could not con 
 trol.
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 129 
 
 The morning was clear and the December sunshine 
 filled the plains with its splendor. Up and down the 
 Kaw River, all purple and silver in the mists of the crisp 
 new day, the landscape wore no token of the warring 
 spirit that held the hearts of men. No dreams of peaceful 
 vales were sweeter than the peaceful earth under the 
 unscarred heavens on this rare day. 
 
 From the top of Mount Oread, Elliot Darrow, doing 
 sentinel duty, saw all the beauty of river and plain and 
 far gleaming headland. Small wonder that in his heart 
 he hated war and longed for peace. This war was so 
 contemptible, so uncertain, so unjust. In the midst of 
 action he reasoned his soul might rise to meet the duty 
 of the hour. But here were all the cheap things of strife, 
 the petty subterfuge, the swinish appetites, the brutish 
 cruelty, the things that in his Quaker home he had 
 been taught all his life to despise. He did not know 
 then that these things belong to war, even to just war, 
 and without them wars could not be. Longingly he 
 turned his eyes toward the Vinland Valley, and he fan 
 cied he could trace the very purple shadow that lay 
 beyond the sheltered nook holding the Lamond home 
 stead. He thought of Beth, and his stern young face 
 softened. 
 
 " She is a wonderful girl," he mused. " If I could once 
 get her to understand how I hate myself for being rude 
 to her that one time, and yet," the tender light in his 
 dark eyes should have gladdened the heart of any girl, 
 "after all, 1 am afraid I might want to be just as rude 
 again. There is no telling. But that is all over now. 
 There are too many things to think about." 
 
 How far removed from the careless boy who had gone 
 nutting on an October afternoon with an equally careless 
 crowd of boys and girls seemed this muscular young
 
 UO A WALL OF MEN 
 
 fellow standing at sentinel duty on the highest point of 
 Mount Oread. Through the stern business of the time 
 he was coming swiftly into a man's estate. Beth Lamond 
 had spoken truly when she said: 
 
 " One day here is like a rent, a sword cut, a shifting of 
 all settled things to make the days afterward follow 
 another pattern." 
 
 Elliot's days had fallen into new lines since that moon 
 lit night when Beth had said these words. Although 
 the young Quaker fancied he had put the girl out of his 
 mind, his eyes still rested on the distant Vinland Valley. 
 As his keen vision swept the plains far away, he caught 
 sight of three horses coming swiftly from the south. He 
 was standing motionless watching the three when an 
 other sentinel rounded the northern shoulder of Mount 
 Oread. 
 
 " Hello, Darrow, you look like you could see clear into 
 that camp on the Wakarusa," he cried. 
 
 "I'm watching those three horses yonder," Elliot 
 answered. 
 
 " I don't see anybody. Yes, I do too ; I guess they are 
 horses. They may be buffalo, or just a field piece being 
 brought in for Sheriff Jones to train on us." 
 
 Elliot looked at the speaker wonderingly. " There are 
 three horses," he said after a pause. 
 
 "Yes, I can see that now myself," his comrade de 
 clared. 
 
 " There is a black one and a red roan, and the little one 
 with a white nose looks for all the world like Coke 
 Wren's vicious little pony Cotton Mather," Elliot said, 
 still studying the view. 
 
 "Well, you've got mighty good eyes. What else do 
 you see?" the sentinel asked. 
 
 "Two of them look like women," Elliot declared.
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 131 
 
 "He's right," a voice behind them broke in. "There 
 are two women ; " and a tall Shawnee Indian stepped up 
 beside them. 
 
 "Hello, Pelathe. Where did you come from?" asked 
 Elliot's companion. 
 
 " I want him, young Darrow, to go to town with me," 
 the Indian replied. 
 
 " Go along with him, Darrow," the sentinel urged. He 
 is Pelathe, a Shawnee, and he 's all right too. I came 
 up to relieve you, anyhow. I '11 keep a lookout for your 
 white-nosed pony and your red roan, and your black 
 horse, and your two women. Maybe they have kidnaped 
 a Pro- Slavery man and are bringing him into Lawrence 
 alive." 
 
 Elliot and the Shawnee strode down the steep slope of 
 Mount Oread toward the town. 
 
 At the foot of the slope Pelathe turned to the young 
 Quaker :- 
 
 " Darrow, take me to Merriford's office." 
 
 "All right, we are heading that way," Elliot said. 
 
 " Darrow," the Indian paused a little. " You not go 
 home now, they not need you." 
 
 Elliot stared at the speaker. " How do you know ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I was there." He waved his hand toward the Vinland 
 Valley. "I know. You not go to-day. 5 ' 
 
 A sudden recollection flashed through the young 
 Quaker's mind, but he asked no further questions. 
 
 At the breakfast table that morning Jupe was stand 
 ing behind Merriford's chair. 
 
 "Say, Jupiter," the lawyer said carelessly, "do you 
 know White Turkey? " 
 
 " No sah ! " the African answered promptly. " I is not 
 familiar enough with the Lawrence hen-roosts yet to
 
 132 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 know the white roosters even, let alone the white 
 turkeys, sah." 
 
 " All right," his employer answered, as he turned in his 
 chair and looked keenly into the negro's face, "you'll 
 soon be extending your acquaintances, I have no doubt." 
 
 The broad grin on Jupe's guileless countenance dis 
 appeared and in its place came a look of tenderness and 
 pity the moment Merriford's face was turned away. 
 
 " Say, Mars'r Merriford, what 's gwine to be the end of 
 this war for extermination ? " 
 
 If using lengthy terms was to get Jupe out of bondage, 
 his freedom was almost in sight. 
 
 "There is only one end to this kind of strife, Jupe. 
 The Courts of History do not reverse themselves. Go 
 now and warm up the office. I want to meet some men 
 there in half an hour," and the servant was sent away. 
 
 " This game grows interesting," Merriford said to him 
 self. "That man has nothing to gain by treachery. I 
 have seldom been deceived in my judgment of motives, 
 and I *m sure the negro means well. There 's a big soul 
 in that big body. It is just the little brain through which 
 it must act that complicates things for him and me. 
 I'll play the thing through, but my curiosity is getting 
 whetted up." 
 
 Hiram Darrow was right in his prediction of a fair 
 to-morrow. Every man who came to Merriford's office 
 on this morning walked with firm step, and gloom 
 seemed to have fled away with the shadows of the night. 
 The impending danger was not lessened, but the spirit 
 of manhood on which the enemy had not counted made 
 stronger defence in Lawrence that day than cannon or 
 earthwork or thick-walled fortress could afford. 
 
 " There were fifty men from Ottawa Creek who got in 
 at midnight," Lane announced.
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 133 
 
 "The Palmyra mounted riflemen rode up the street 
 just now with the flag flying over them. Every man 
 who comes in that spirit brings the strength of ten men 
 in his fighting arm," Lamond asserted. 
 
 " And we may get ammunition before night," Dr. Rob 
 inson declared. " Two of our noble women have already 
 gone down to a claim, where there is a quantity buried. 
 They can get it in here when none of us could. Hats off 
 to the ladies." They rose to their feet with profound 
 courtesy. 
 
 " I have some good news, too," Merriford announced, 
 " I 'm looking for a Delaware Indian here to tell us some 
 thing. Here he comes now." 
 
 White Turkey was just entering, with Jupe close be 
 hind him. 
 
 "Here, White Turkey, tell these friends what your 
 tribe will do in this trouble." 
 
 The Indian faced the company and with impassive 
 countenance said slowly: "While winds blow and the 
 Wakarusa runs down to the Kaw, the Delaware braves 
 will not lift hands against Lawrence. We are ready to 
 fight with you now." 
 
 A shout went up from the men at this declaration, and 
 in the midst of the rejoicing Elliot Darrow and Pelathe, 
 the Shawnee, entered the door. Pelathe was a fine speci 
 men of his tribe, with a face of unusual intelligence and 
 shrewdness. Two months before Elliot would have been 
 ill at ease in this company. Now he spoke with cour 
 teous self-possession : 
 
 " Gentlemen, this man has something to tell you," and 
 he turned to leave the room. 
 
 "Hold on, we may want you," Merriford said, and 
 Elliot stopped by the closed door while Pelathe spoke. 
 
 "Sheriff Jones and the men on the Wakarusa say
 
 134 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Shawnees will join them against you. Shawnees will not 
 fight against Lawrence. We will fight for you. When 
 you want us we are ready." 
 
 A cheer followed this declaration, and in the confusion 
 of voices nobody except Merriford and Lamond noted 
 how quickly the Indian slid to the side of the young 
 Quaker. 
 
 "You stay here, now?" he asked innocently, as he 
 noted the nearness of Merriford and Lamond, but there 
 was a meaning in his eyes that Elliot understood. 
 
 " Of course he will stay," Lamond said, " All our homes 
 are unprotected. It would be cowardly for any one of us 
 to leave now." 
 
 In truth Lamond had felt a pride in the young man 
 from his own neighborhood who had already been recog 
 nized as courageous and trustworthy. The Indian turned 
 carelessly. " Down in Palmyra country, you live? " he put 
 the question indifferently. 
 
 "Were you ever there, Pelathe?" Elliot asked sud 
 denly, and something in the young man's voice made 
 Lamond and Merriford turn to look at him. 
 
 " When the moon was one quarter." A sudden gesture 
 from White Turkey, who had joined the group, and the 
 Shawnee added, "You stay with your father here." 
 
 He looked straight into Elliot's keen dark eyes as he 
 spoke. Merriford alone noted the quick interchange of 
 intelligence in the glances. 
 
 "One negro, two Indians and one white man," the 
 lawyer said to himself, " a veritable house that Jack built. 
 What next? How like Neil young Darrow looks now. 
 I wish my boy was here." 
 
 " We are all agreed on the defensive line. Let us hope 
 for peace and be ready for war," Dr. Robinson said to 
 the whole company; then turning to the Indians, "We
 
 WAR ON THE WAKARUSA 135 
 
 thank your tribes more than we can say. We will call 
 on you when we need you." 
 
 A commotion in the street brought the men to the 
 door. As they hurried out, White Turkey managed to 
 pass close to Elliot. The Indian gave him a swift glance, 
 then in a low voice he said: "You go home. Don't 
 listen to white man. Go home, don't listen to Indian. 
 Pelathe talk truth, but White Turkey know. Go home." 
 
 A crowd had gathered in front of Merriford's office. In 
 its midst stood Beth Lamond. Her dark gray eyes were 
 shining with excitement. Her cheeks were pink from 
 the sharp morning air, and her sunny hair curled softly 
 up against the jaunty little cap of the Lamond plaid, 
 while a big shawl of the same plaid was pinned snugly 
 about her throat. In all the days that followed Elliot 
 Darrow never lost that picture of Beth from his memory. 
 Beside her, little Patty Wren was smiling cheerfully, 
 while beyond them Craig Penwin was sitting with care 
 less ease on a red roan horse, holding the reins of 
 Lamond's black Pluto and little Cotton Mather. In the 
 excitement of the moment nobody, not even Merriford, 
 noted how quickly Jupe effaced himself from view, ror 
 did any one catch the look of bitter hatred in White 
 Turkey's still black eyes as he stalked away toward the 
 Delaware reservation beyond the Kaw.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 THE UNPROTECTED 
 
 One word tells you all I would say, 
 She is my mother: You will agree 
 That all the rest may be thrown away. 
 
 Alice Gary. 
 
 THE glory of war is to the rank and file ; but the hard 
 ship of war is to more than these. It reaches 
 beyond battlefield and bivouac to the hearthstones of the 
 land. In the story of this young western Territory an 
 unwritten tale of tragedy and endurance is to be found 
 in the pioneer homes of early Kansas. 
 
 While the men were fortifying Lawrence and waiting 
 for the hour of open warfare, down in the Vinland Valley 
 events were transpiring that led to the sudden appear 
 ance of Patty Wren and Beth Lamond before Lawyer 
 Merriford's office. 
 
 Nobody knew better than Isabel Darrow how much 
 every man counted in the besieged town. Not only did 
 she send her own away, with a bright hopeful face, she 
 became also a comforter and helper to other women less 
 brave and capable than herself. Mark jumped at the 
 chance of being now the head of the household, and did 
 the work of two men gladly, but too rashly; while in 
 his boy-heart he cherished the notion that he too was 
 needed at Lawrence, and he dreamed his day-dream of 
 valiant deeds he might have done there. 
 
 But one evening in his hurried descent from his Darra- 
 
 136
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 137 
 
 rat, whither he had climbed to see if the fire of battle 
 might be lurid in the north, he lost his hold and fell to 
 the cabin floor below. A broken rib, a dislocated shoulder, 
 and a twisted ankle were the net results, with some fifteen 
 minutes of unconsciousness at the beginning. His mother 
 deftly wrenched the shoulder into place, and bandaged 
 the ankle ; but the broken rib, the stiff arm, and the help 
 less foot required careful nursing, and upon her and little 
 Joe fell all the outdoor winter chores besides. Mark was 
 meeker under affliction than in good fortune, for he made 
 no complaint of his sufferings, and in all possible ways 
 saved his mother by taking care of himself; while Joe, 
 suddenly promoted to the highest place in the household, 
 used much energy and little judgment, as might be ex 
 pected of one of his years. 
 
 That was how it was that in a sudden whirling about 
 of the wind from south to north, as happens often on the 
 unsubdued prairies, Joe was caught down in a ravine 
 cutting wood without his coat. Warm and wet with 
 perspiration from the vigorous exercise, he had come up 
 to the level and hurried home against the chilling wind. 
 The little body was numb with cold when the boy 
 reached the house, and although his mother cared for 
 him zealously, he went into a fever and within the next 
 twenty-four hours pneumonia was added to the other 
 cares of the brave pioneer woman. 
 
 Patty Wren, with her natural inclination to be into 
 things, and to be useful as well, came over for an after 
 noon visit with Mrs. Darrow. Patty was a born nurse, 
 and she saw at once that Joe was very ill. She would 
 not alarm his mother. That was n't Patty's way, but she 
 made up her mind that he must have medicine, and that 
 Mrs. Darrow must be relieved of all other duties except 
 the care of her children.
 
 138 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Land o* love, Mis' Darrow," Patty chirped. "You 
 go an' stay with them blessed boys. I '11 git your house 
 red up in no time," and the trim little woman fairly flew 
 about the kitchen. 
 
 " Ef I had somebody to stay here I know what I 'd do," 
 she mused. "I believe I can do it, anyhow. Little Joe 
 hain't goin' to pull through less he gits something to 
 relieve his chist. You can bring up children most of 
 the time on turpentine an' lard, but in pneumony you 've 
 got to have quinine inside of 'em. Mis' Darrow 's doin' 
 noble, but ef Joey don't git some help, inside of a week 
 there '11 be a grave over to Palmyry to rest heavy on her 
 heart, and make her hate Kansas 'stid o' lovin' it as it 
 will deserve yit. An' the men all locked up in Lawrence 
 an' the key throwed into the Kaw, you might say. Oh 
 Law! it's the women's turn now. An' it's a nasty day 
 too, but ef ye wait to git consent of the weather you 
 won't go fur in shine or shadow." 
 
 Patty glanced out at the dull gray sky and colorless 
 earth. Then she peeped into the hall. Hiram Darrow 
 had cut a wide doorway across the corner of one of the 
 rooms, enlarging the space in the hall sitting room and 
 giving more light and general comfort to both room and 
 hall. Mark sat propped in a chair before the fire and Joe 
 lay on a cot in the room beyond. 
 
 "Land o' love!" Patty repeated. "Isabel Darrow 
 would look like a picture even in the poorhouse. Ain't 
 no woman in Kansas quite so pretty. Poor little Joe! 
 He hardly senses what a sweet face is bendin' over him. 
 Even Beth Lamond, with all her pretty girl ways and 
 kind o' wholesome independence, ain't got quite the 
 beauty yit that the good Lord give Isabel Darrow. 
 Lemme see, I '11 get Beth to come an' stay and I '11 just 
 go to Lawrence after medicine. My nose told me there
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 139 
 
 was something wrong with Beth and the Darrows the 
 day of the preachin' up to Palmyry. Elliot went home 
 stiff an' upright, and Craig Penwin beaued Beth home. 
 But in the hour of sorrer we forget our little miffs. I 
 wish I could get her or somebody here by just wishin' it. 
 But if you got no wishin' tree you must git your fruit 
 from your action bushes, and here goes Coke Wren's 
 wife to it." 
 
 As she opened the kitchen door to carry out a pan of 
 dishwater little Tarleton Penwin came around the 
 corner of the house. 
 
 " Bless your heart, boy, come in," Patty exclaimed joy 
 fully. " Could n't you stay here awhile till I get back 
 or send somebody? Joe's sick." 
 
 Tarley's lip quivered. In sheer loneliness he had come 
 to find his playmate; and sickness is a hard problem for 
 a boy. 
 
 " Oh, he.'s just middlin' sick, and you can help his ma 
 a lot. Will you do it?" Patty urged. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Wren, if I can," the boy answered, and he 
 allowed Patty to lead him, hesitating, into the sick room. 
 
 " Mis' Darrow, Tarleton's come to stay with you till I 
 get back. I 'm goin* to get you some medicine." 
 
 Mrs. Darrow's eyes were a joy to Patty's memory as 
 she turned them gratefully upon her kind little neighbor. 
 
 "But how can you get it, Patty?" she asked. "All 
 the Palmyra men are on their way to Lawrence now. I 
 saw the company pass down the Trail half an hour or 
 so ago." 
 
 "Say, Mis' Darrow, can you pull through till 
 mornin' ? " Patty asked eagerly. 
 
 Isabel lifted her fair face to the little woman bending 
 over her. 
 
 " I know in whom I have trusted," she said simply.
 
 140 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "I'll be here to-morrow or send something or some 
 body. Tarley'll stay, won't you. Tarley?" 
 
 Tarley nodded. 
 
 "Aunt Crystal said maybe I could stay all night," he 
 said. And Patty hurried away. 
 
 Cotton Mather's hard hoofs clicked on the frozen Trail 
 as. Patty sped toward the cabin on the edge of the ravine. 
 At the crossing by the Hole in the Rock she almost 
 dashed into Craig Penwin, whose horse had shied angrily 
 away from the black pool. 
 
 "Why, Craig," she cried, seized with an inspiration, 
 "I've just come from Darrow's. Mark's got a broken 
 rib and a sprained ankle, and a shoulder out of place; 
 most other ways though he 's all right, but little Joe 's 
 got pneumony bad, and I 'm goin' after medicine. Can't 
 Tarley stay there till I get back? It's a hard time for 
 all of us, Craig, no matter how single or double we look 
 at things." 
 
 However harsh the lines were drawn now, neighbor 
 against neighbor, Craig Penwin took no part in any of 
 the strife. In his heart, however, he resented the very 
 name of Darrow. But he was a gentleman. Lifting his 
 hat to Patty, he said courteously: 
 
 " Of course Tarley can stay if Mrs. Darrow wants him. 
 I'll go home and tell Aunt Crystal. Where are you 
 going, Mrs. Wren?" 
 
 "Oh home," Patty answered briefly, for she could 
 not wholly trust Boniface Penwin's son. 
 
 Craig knew her thoughts, and he turned away in anger. 
 
 " I know where she is going. She might have told me. 
 They will not think of me alone. They don't trust me 
 because I believe the niggers were made to be our serv 
 ants, and," sadly, "because of my father. But there's 
 one who shall trust me. That's Beth, and no Darrow
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 141 
 
 shall prevent it. I '11 show her, too, before twenty-four 
 hours, that I am a man if I am a Southerner," and he shut 
 his thin lips tightly and rode away. 
 
 Meanwhile Patty hurried home to set the little Wren's 
 nest in order. 
 
 "Heavens to Betsey! of all the good luck," she cried 
 as she reached the edge of the ravine. " There sets Beth 
 Lamond on their big Pluto. Hain't Providence workin' 
 it out though ! " 
 
 " I 've come to stay over night," Beth announced, when 
 Patty reached the gate. " Mother has gone to Mrs. Neth- 
 ercote's. The baby is sick, and Mother sent me and 
 Pluto over here to eat you out of house and home till she 
 gets back." 
 
 Mrs. Lamond, who had feared every sound in the days 
 of imaginary evils, had grown courageous when real dan 
 gers threatened. To-day she was miles away, helping 
 a mother with a sick baby the same baby that Patty 
 had cared for during the preaching service at Palmyra. 
 
 "Oh Beth, everybody most is sick," Patty said dole 
 fully, but she could not be gloomy long. " You and me 
 is all right though. Let's do something." 
 
 But to the little Yankee's plans Beth was deaf. 
 
 "Patty Wren, you shall not go to Lawrence alone," 
 the girl declared. " Mrs. Darrow will get through the 
 night somehow. You said Tarley can stay with her. 
 I 'm going with you." 
 
 "But what will your Ma say, Beth?" urged Patty. 
 
 "She isn't where she can say anything right now. 
 She 's helping the sick, and that 's what I 'm going to do." 
 
 " But I 'm not afraid to go alone, really." Patty was 
 giving in, for she was only a woman and the dangers of 
 the frontier were very clear to all the women here. 
 
 Beth thought quickly.
 
 142 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Patty, we can get to Abbott's place before it is very 
 dark if we ride fast. Then we can get to Lawrence early 
 in the morning. Nobody would stop us. Just two 
 women, in the daylight, and we can get a doctor or medi 
 cine and be here again by to-morrow afternoon, if we 
 hurry. Poor little Joe! and Mark so helpless. Oh 
 Patty, it 's awful the suffering all this brings, besides the 
 danger to the men who defend the Territory," and the 
 girl's face grew sad. 
 
 In a few minutes the two, with big Pluto and vicious 
 little Cotton Mather, were speeding away to the north 
 ward. 
 
 In the same gray morning hour wherein White Turkey 
 was rousing Winthrop Merriford from his slumbers, Beth 
 and Patty were beginning the last lap of their journey. 
 The growing darkness had tested their courage on the 
 evening before. This morning they were buoyant and 
 fearless. Although the way was rough and shaded in 
 places, the light was growing and the day would be clear. 
 They could not believe any danger could threaten them, 
 although Mrs. Abbott was loath to have them go on 
 alone. 
 
 "The woods and hollows are full of dangerous men," 
 she warned them. " Be as careful as you can. I can only 
 trust you to the Lord." 
 
 " Well, we 're safer with Him than anybody else, Whig 
 or Tory," Patty answered, half in reverence, half in jest, 
 and the two rode away. 
 
 Elliot Darrow upon Mount Oread, watching the day 
 dawn in the far southeast and noting how deep were the 
 purple shadows of night about every ravine and spot of 
 woodland, did not dream as he stood at sentinel duty 
 above the town, how full of peril to one he loved, was one 
 dark hollow away to the southward.
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 143 
 
 The crimson waves of sunrise were just pulsing 
 through the tree-tops as Beth and Patty rode from the 
 level plain into the dim twilight of a lonely thicket-filled 
 ravine. The roadway was narrow and winding, leading 
 down to the dry bed of a sometime stream of water. 
 Beyond this point the road wound again by two or three 
 turns to the open prairie. At the last turn, just at the 
 bottom of the ravine where the bushes grew thickest, 
 and the deep shade made darkness at this hour, Patty 
 and Beth came suddenly upon two men who filled the 
 way. Before the startled women had time to make a 
 motion or outcry two other horsemen broke through the 
 thicket behind them, closing the way of retreat, and 
 crowding their horses alongside the women's. All four 
 were heavily armed and with their coarse clothing and 
 brutal unshaven faces they would have sent terror to 
 stronger hearts than the hearts of these helpless women. 
 
 " Oh Lord," Patty gasped, folding her little hard hands 
 imploringly, "if You don't work a miracle we're done 
 for." 
 
 Beth's face was very white beneath its golden crown 
 of hair, and her dark eyes burned with a strange glow. 
 All the fighting blood of the old Clan Lamond thrilled 
 her pulses then, and her voice was clear as she said: 
 
 "We are going after some medicine for a sick boy. 
 Will you let us pass?" 
 
 The foremost rider of the two in front fell back before 
 the strength of that voice, but his companion pushed 
 forward against Pluto's shoulder. 
 
 " Let the little peewee go after the medicine. Shoo 
 her on, boys. We won't bother her." He caught Patty's 
 bridle as he spoke and gave her pony a forward jerk. 
 " This is that Scotchman Lamond's girl. He was in the 
 gang that held up Sheriff Jones and took Branson away
 
 144 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 from us. Anybody belongin' to him or that Quaker 
 abolitionist, Darrow, is ours." 
 
 " It 's a pity they ain't none of 'em to be found to de 
 fend their own women. Now 's our chance to get even," 
 and with a brutal oath the man behind Beth crowded 
 between her horse and Patty's. 
 
 " Maybe she 'd give us each a kiss," the third horseman 
 said, with an insulting grin, as he urged his horse forward 
 beside the girl's. 
 
 Beth's firm white fist struck swift and hard straight 
 into the ruffian's face with a force that told, for he jerked 
 his horse back until it sat upon its haunches. 
 
 In the midst of the plunging and cursing that followed, 
 the man who would have given up the attack closed in 
 again behind the others when he saw his companions 
 were not with him. 
 
 So every band of criminals has its one or more who do 
 not dare either to fight or to run. 
 
 Patty's courage got its second hold with Beth's resist 
 ance and she whirled Cotton Mather about, crying: 
 
 " Turn 'round, Beth, we can get out this way." 
 
 But the horseman behind her lunged forward, sepa 
 rating the two entirely, as he cried out savagely : 
 
 "Now's the time to make old Lamond pay the cash. 
 Close in, boys." 
 
 Beth's heart stood still, but her clutch on her bridle 
 rein did not loosen, and she faced her tormentors with 
 defiant eyes. 
 
 "Close in! Close in!" the others cried. 
 
 "Yes, close in! Into the woods as fast as you can, 
 you devils ! " And Craig Penwin on a roan horse, came 
 crashing through the thicket into the road behind them. 
 
 The horsemen started at the sudden appearance, and 
 he who had first fallen back slid to the edge of the brush
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 145 
 
 quickly. But the other three, seeing only one man, 
 waited a moment. 
 
 "Who are you? There's only one; we can manage 
 him," the foremost rider declared. 
 
 " Let these women alone and get out of sight this 
 minute," Craig's voice rang out commandingly. "I'll 
 fight all four of you if you don't, but there will be one 
 dead man besides myself when we 're done." 
 
 "That's Colonel Penwin's boy. We've got to run," 
 one rider urged. " We '11 get even with old Lamond yet, 
 in spite of you," and with more mutterings the four slunk 
 away from view around a bend in the bushes, while 
 rescuer and rescued hastened on to town. 
 
 Craig Penwin did not wait long in Lawrence. While 
 Beth and Patty were explaining the purpose of their 
 coming he dismounted, and leading the black horse to its 
 owner, with a courteous salute gave over its bridle rein. 
 
 " Here, Mr. Lamond," he said in a low tone, " It came 
 my way to see that nothing should harm these two 
 women." Then with a certain stiffening of form and 
 dignity of manner, he added, "We Southerners are not 
 all of the rabble type, like those over on the Wakarusa. 
 You cannot even judge us by our fathers always. I 
 would not lift my hand against a Free-State man in 
 Kansas, unless I had other cause against him. Good 
 morning, sir." And he was off. 
 
 "There's a fine boy. What a pity he's a Penwin," 
 Lamond said to himself. "We get almost too bitter to 
 be just ourselves in these days of unjust deeds." 
 
 Hiram Darrow's anxiety for his own son and his sense 
 of duty struggled only briefly. 
 
 " I am only one of many here who are needed at home. 
 I will trust that my family will be kept safe," he said to 
 David Lamond.
 
 146 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " You are right, Darrow. Some of the men are ready 
 to give up now. Colonel Lane has his hands full; they 
 are all so uneasy. If you go they will complain, or call 
 you a coward, or both, and we need you more than we do 
 most men." 
 
 "I am going home, father," Elliot said. "I do not 
 think Lawrence needs me as much as mother does." 
 
 Lamond looked curiously at him as he said this. 
 
 "All our wives and mothers need us, Elliot, but we 
 need young men here." 
 
 " Is thee sure thee ought to go, Elliot? I have not felt 
 a call to go away from here," his father said. 
 
 "I was warned by an Indian that I should go home, 
 and I know I must. I'm going back with Beth. Mrs. 
 Merriford wants Patty to stay here a few days. I '11 come 
 back again as soon as I can." Elliot spoke earnestly and 
 with decision. 
 
 But the sturdy, practical Scotchman had little use for 
 warnings and calls. 
 
 " Would you be as zealous to stay if an Indian warned 
 you not to go? " He could not keep back the question. 
 
 Elliot's face flushed deeply. Then the color ebbed 
 away, leaving it very white, while his dark eyes blazed 
 with a steady light. 
 
 " If I thought only of myself, I might be," he answered 
 quietly. 
 
 Had David Lamond known then of Pelathe's urgent 
 pleading with the young Quaker he might have judged 
 the boy differently. As it was he could not banish the 
 belief that love of comfort, and personal cowardice, and 
 a trace of foolish superstition were taking from Law 
 rence in her hour of peril one of the most trustworthy 
 and promising boys, as well as one of the most capable 
 in every position in which he had been tried. The
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 147 
 
 thought of it boded nothing good for Elliot's future, as 
 it concerned the loyal-hearted Scotchman. 
 
 Beth could not leave her mother long and she was 
 eager to get beyond the Wakarusa in midday. Patty 
 had exploited their escape from the ruffians with un 
 stinted praise for Beth's coolness, but the girl was now 
 in a fever of excitement, and she longed for the shelter 
 of the stone homestead in the Vinland Valley. 
 
 " My daughter," David Lamond said, as he took Beth 
 aside for a good-by word, "take good care of mother, 
 while I am doing my duty here, and, Lassie " his voice 
 was very tender "Lassie, dearie, whatever happens to 
 me, don't ever tie friendship with a coward. This world 
 is n't big enough to hold the man who deserts his country 
 for his own safety. Don't forget that." 
 
 He kissed her good-by, and Beth guessed only dimly 
 at what he might mean. 
 
 The midday was beautiful, and while danger lurked in 
 every sheltered draw, and the open plains but made them 
 an easy target for the enemy, and while their need for 
 speeding on their way was insistent, the two young 
 people forgot again, as they had done before, that there 
 was an unexplained misunderstanding between them. 
 
 "Elliot, are you really afraid to stay up there any 
 longer? Papa says an Indian told you to go home.* 
 Beth put the question gently. 
 
 " Right now I 'm not afraid of anything. I am un 
 armed. It remains to be seen how brave I should be i) 
 I were in such a position as Craig was this morning." 
 
 " Oh, Craig was grand, but I can't bear to think of it, 
 it was so awful," Beth shuddered. " Let 's not talk of 
 that. Were you really warned to go home ? " 
 
 "Yes," Elliot answered. "The message was plain." 
 
 " But Elliot, that seems so "
 
 148 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "Cowardly?" 
 
 " No, not quite that," Beth hastened to say. " Only if 
 somebody had said, ' Don't go. Your life is in danger 
 if you do,' wouldn't you have felt like staying in Law 
 rence?" 
 
 "I was told that this morning," Elliot replied. 
 
 " Sure? I thought you said you were told to go." She 
 look puzzled. 
 
 "Beth, a Shawnee Indian came up on Mount Oread 
 after me this morning, and on the way down he warned 
 me not to leave Lawrence. Less than three hours ago, 
 White Turkey, the Delaware, who came to see your 
 father last October, urged me to go home." 
 
 Beth's face was full of happiness, and the young 
 Quaker remembered his own reflection of the early morn 
 ing: "After all, I'm afraid I might be just as rude 
 again." But a new feeling had crept into his being, a 
 dignity Beth had never known in him before seemed to 
 put a barrier about him. 
 
 "Then you aren't a coward, are you?" 
 
 " Did you think I would be? " he queried. 
 
 "Oh, I never thought you could be," she exclaimed, 
 and for the first time she noted now strong was his hand 
 holding the bridle rein. 
 
 "Then don't think it now," he said quietly, and they 
 began to talk of other things. 
 
 "Don't come on," Beth said, as they reached the by- 
 trail leading to her home. 
 
 "I must see that you are safe," he insisted, and they 
 hurried up the way. 
 
 " Good-by. I '11 be going back to Lawrence again if I 
 can leave mother." Elliot took Beth's hand, and looked 
 down into her eyes. 
 
 Somehow the daylight faded for the girl, and a moonlit
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 149 
 
 night came again with all its filmy veil of lights and 
 shadows interwoven. And Elliot Darrow's white face, 
 and dark eyes, and heavy dark hair shading his forehead, 
 and the sweetness of love's first kiss, all swept up in 
 memory, and with these the sense of indignation, and 
 surprise, and sudden loneliness when he was gone. 
 
 And here was Elliot in the light of day. The same 
 handsome face, the same magnetic attractiveness of a 
 strong personality shorn of the dross of coarseness, dig 
 nified, lovable. The eyes were no less full of tenderness 
 in that brief moment, but the mastery of manhood had 
 usurped the pleading spirit of boyhood. A gentle pres 
 sure of the hand, warm, strong, with that fulness of 
 meaning no word can express, and he was gone. 
 
 The day had been long for Isabel Darrow. She had 
 sent Tarleton home in the early morning, and as the fore 
 noon passed, Joe grew more restless, and Mark broke all 
 law in his efforts to help his mother. The result was not 
 even the easy chair for him, but two boys in bed instead 
 of one. 
 
 Added to this, strange horsemen had gone back and 
 forth on the Trail to-day. And once two horsemen had 
 started toward the house, and then suddenly wheeled 
 about, and ridden slowly away again. She fancied they 
 resembled the men who had called to ask the way to 
 Penwin's on the night of Branson's arrest. 
 
 Yet, Isabel was a woman of habitual poise of spirit, 
 and when her hand and brain were wearied, and her 
 heart heavy she repeated softly to herself the sweet old 
 Bible promise r 
 
 "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is 
 stayed on Thee." 
 
 Or a line of the beloved Quaker poet, Whittier, came 
 to her lips:
 
 150 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Know well, my soul, God's hand controls 
 
 Whate'er thou fearest}- 
 Round him in calmest music rolls 
 
 Whate'er thou hearest. 
 
 What to thee is shadow, to Him is day, 
 
 And the end He knoweth, 
 And not on a blind and aimless way 
 
 The spirit goeth. 
 
 As the long hours went slowly by, a sense of unrest, 
 and of impending danger seized the Quaker mother, a 
 longing for companionship, a nameless fear, and a crav 
 ing for help, that would not be overcome. There are 
 souls organized so finely that they respond to the throb 
 of the great impending events that mark the pulse beats 
 of a life story. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, the faint sound of a horse's hoofs 
 brought Isabel to the front window. Three horsemen 
 were riding slouchily down the Trail, evidently with no 
 particular aim in their going. They turned to look up 
 toward the Darrow home again and again, before they 
 passed out of view. A great fear swept down upon the 
 lone mother, and lifting her clasped hands, she prayed 
 for protection in her defenceless hour. Then, sure of the 
 All-Father's love, she turned bravely to her tasks again, 
 with face serene, and soul courageous. 
 
 A cry from Mark, and the mother looked up to see 
 Elliot standing in the hall doorway. Mother love has 
 wonderful vision. In that moment Isabel saw more than 
 her broad-shouldered first-born son smiling down upon 
 her as he opened his arms to receive her. She saw that 
 the boy who went away to defend a city had uncon 
 sciously grown to the stature of a man. In days so few 
 in number they might almost be counted by their hours, 
 with no great crisis in affairs or soul-stirring event to
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 151 
 
 bring it about, the call to arms, and the gathering of the 
 hosts of the enemy had wrought the world-old miracle. 
 She saw even further in that brief instant, so keen is 
 mother love. Her vision took in a man of magnetic per 
 sonality, and inherent power. What were the pride and 
 joy of the queen regent when she sees her son on his 
 coronation day crowned king of his realm, to the pride 
 and joy of this pioneer mother whose princely son wore 
 now in her eyes the crown of his young manhood, a 
 realm wherein he might rule to power, and she prayed, 
 and fondly believed, to wonderful usefulness. " Mothers 
 have God's license " to such hope. 
 
 " Home on a furlough, mother. Father is well. Law 
 rence hasn't fallen yet. Patty is at Merriford's and 
 Beth is safe at home." Did his voice deepen with the 
 last item of news? It may only have seemed so. 
 
 "Oh, Elliot, my blessed boy, we are so glad to have 
 thee here again." 
 
 And then, from weariness and sudden relaxation, Isabel 
 sank down beside him. 
 
 "Thee shall rest a night and a day, dear. I'll take 
 care of this hospital now. I'm loaded with medicine 
 and directions from Doctor St. Felix, a new man just 
 come to town. We'll have Joe doing sentinel duty up 
 in the Darrarat by the time the Dogs of War get to this 
 valley." And Elliot, cool-handed and strong, took pos 
 session of things. 
 
 He never said " You " to his mother. However much 
 the Quaker children might use the language of the world 
 to their brothers and sisters, they always remembered 
 to say "Thee" to the father and mother. 
 
 The fire burned cheerily on the broad stone hearth. 
 There was no other light in the house. Isabel was sleep 
 ing the sweet slumber of tired mind and muscle. Mark
 
 152 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 had at last heard enough of the war on the Wakarusa 
 and had also fallen asleep. Only Elliot with little Joe 
 wrapped in a blanket on his lap sat in the soft light of 
 the fireplace, rocking gently to and fro and seeing 
 visions of heroic deeds. 
 
 Outside the south window, deep in the shadows of the 
 night, three forms were concealed. Three faces peered 
 cautiously in. Three right hands held murderous pistols, 
 ready for instant use. They were the men who had been 
 in Sheriff Jones' company on the night of the rescue of 
 Branson, the men who had met Patty and Beth in the 
 ravine beyond the Wakarusa in the early morning. They 
 were half tipsy with drink then. The sudden failure of 
 their infamous scheme had made them only more deter 
 mined to get their revenge somewhere, they cared little 
 where, so it was wreaked on an abolitionist, or his home, 
 and loved ones. The coward among them, the soberest 
 of the quartette, had fallen out of the gang to-day. The 
 others, vengeful as they were, knew they did not dare 
 now to molest one whom Boniface Penwin's son had 
 protected, and the Lamond household was safe. But the 
 unguarded Darrow home offered even better sport. Here 
 they could loot, burn and kidnap as they chose. From 
 Palmyra to Lawrence there were not men enough to re 
 sist the three in an open daylight encounter. How easy 
 then at night to fall upon the one lone homestead and 
 leave it a heap of ashes. So they reasoned, but they did 
 not reason much, nor coherently. They were filled with 
 the spirit of lawless warfare the blood-lust only an evil 
 cause can inflame. 
 
 And so the men had spied out the land in the early 
 afternoon, and had their brutal purpose well fledged for 
 full accomplishment, waiting only the hours of darkness 
 for their time of execution.
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 153 
 
 In his haste to reach home Elliot had ridden straight 
 across the prairie from Lamond's instead of following the 
 trail. What might have happened to the unarmed boy 
 had he taken the main road, did happen some hours later 
 to an innocent unarmed man on his homeward way. As 
 it was, the unexpected sight of a big manly fellow here 
 had checked them temporarily. The hour grew late, but 
 still Joe lay wakeful in his brother's arms, and both were 
 unconscious of evil hands so near, of evil eyes watching 
 their every motion. 
 
 " Sing to me, Ellie, I 'm lonely for some singing." Joe 
 had seemed to draw strength with the coming of his 
 strong, big brother, and for the first time since his illness 
 was able to be out of bed. "Sing, Ellie, mother and 
 Mark will think it 's angels or a nightmare." Joe was 
 never too sick to joke. 
 
 Outside the men watched eagerly with hatred in their 
 hearts. They could not think of others of kinder natures 
 than their own. They thought all men hated. They 
 did not know what mercy means. 
 
 It was growing very cold without. Within, the warm 
 glow of the wood fire fell on little Joe's thin face, and 
 accented the white forehead and dark hair of the older 
 brother. It was a tenderly sweet picture of a love those 
 murderous men had never known or had lost with the 
 lost years. A minute or two more and the game must 
 begin. 
 
 "Sing, Ellie," Joe pleaded, cuddling down in Elliot's 
 warm embrace. 
 
 Then, sweet and clear and strong, welling up with 
 power, the man's voice was lifted in the rich melody of 
 song. Even, harmonious, resonant, with a sympathy that 
 was appealing, and a strength that was compelling, Elliot 
 sang the grand old hymn:
 
 154 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 There's a wideness in God's mercy 
 
 Like the wideness of the sea, 
 There's a kindness in his justice 
 
 That is more than liberty. 
 
 For the love of God is broader 
 Than the measure of man's mind, 
 
 And the heart of the Eternal 
 Is most wonderfully kind. 
 
 Outside in the dark and cold three men stood motion 
 less. Dreams of childhood days, of old home ties, of the 
 better things of life, when their world was young and 
 souls were innocent, swept the seared hearts and touched 
 to old vibrations the toughened heart strings. 
 
 " My God ! boys, I can't do it," the leader exclaimed as 
 the singing ceased. "I can't. You may kill me if you 
 want to. My mother sang that song when I was a boy 
 like that little cuss I had my aim on just now." 
 
 A cold shiver, the bitterness of midnight, shook their 
 limbs, and, baffled and dazed by a power they could not 
 comprehend, they stared about them as if to find the men 
 who had come hither an hour ago. 
 
 A neighing of horses tied down beyond the evergreens 
 startled them. They could not tell what happened next. 
 For when they did get their senses Elliot Darrow had 
 come straight out to where they stood, and to their 
 mumbled plea of being lost had led them inside. 
 
 By the warm fire, with kindly words, and a sense of 
 human welcome, and fearless friendliness, they never 
 knew how they managed to each tell the same story of 
 being belated, and of homes to the east they were 
 anxious to reach. They knew, indeed, that shelter and 
 food were given where they had expected to make ruin 
 and woe. They never knew, nor did their host dream,
 
 THE UNPROTECTED 155 
 
 until long afterward, that the prophecy of the Palmyra 
 preacher was being fulfilled, that Elliot was winning a 
 battle with the power of his voice.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 A WARLIKE PEACE 
 
 When he shows as seeking quarter, with paws like hands in 
 
 prayer, 
 
 That is the time of peril the time of the Truce of the Bear. 
 
 Rudyard Kipling. 
 
 WHAT might have happened to Elliot Darrow had 
 he taken the main Trail home from Lamond's 
 instead of speeding straight across the uneven prairie to 
 his father's house, the same did happen to an innocent 
 man on his homeward way on that same afternoon. And 
 a name hitherto unknown was fixed for immortality in 
 the history of a young commonwealth. 
 
 The Wakarusa War was marked by all the stirring 
 incident and terror, and suffering of warfare, but it had 
 no battle in its record. The lull that followed these hos 
 tilities was checkered through with plunder and lawless 
 ness and strife and bloodshed. And for these sturdy 
 pioneers the Dove of Peace was a more fearful omen 
 than the Dogs of War. 
 
 On the afternoon while Beth and Elliot were hurrying 
 toward the Vinland Valley important events were taking 
 place in the besieged town on the Kaw. The guards 
 were still vigilant; the work of strengthening the forti 
 fied entrances, and the lines of defence on either side of 
 Massachusetts Street, was pushed vigorously ; the soldiers 
 drilled steadily; and up on Mount Oread the sentinel 
 kept watchful eyes for the threatening forces on the 
 borders of the Wakarusa. The lack of cannon and am- 
 
 156
 
 A WARLIKE PEACE 157 
 
 munition for defence against a merciless foe, and the 
 knowledge that now the United States troops were 
 authorized to join the Missouri militia against the be 
 sieged forces made the odds of war appalling. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, as Merriford with Lamond and 
 Speer stood before Doctor Robinson's headquarters, a 
 young man came out to mount his horse. He was un 
 armed, and his manner was that of a quiet gentleman 
 attending to personal business. 
 
 "Where to, now, Barber?" inquired Merriford. "I 
 hope you are n't going to desert us." 
 
 " No indeed," Lamond added. " We lost one good 
 fellow to-day, got a little cold chill in his courage, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 " If you mean young Darrow," Barber answered, " you 
 are making a mistake on courage. However, I '11 be here 
 early in the morning. I'm just going home for the night. 
 My wife, was so distressed when I left I thought I 'd 
 show her I 'm all right. Good-by, I '11 soon see you fel 
 lows again. Take care of Lawrence until I get back," 
 and swinging into his saddle he rode away. 
 
 "Fine fellow that," Merriford said. "See how erect 
 and firm he sits in his saddle." 
 
 " Do you know, Merriford," Lamond exclaimed, " I am 
 continually wondering at the class of men a year and a 
 half has brought to this frontier ; scholarly, gentlemanly, 
 
 earnest men. Take young Barber now " Lamond 
 
 looked after the horseman galloping easily away toward 
 the edge of town. "What a future a State must have 
 with young men like him." 
 
 At that instant, Barber, who had reached a turn in the 
 street, looked back toward the three men, and waving 
 his hand in farewell passed from sight. 
 
 "Good-by, God bless him." There were tears in the
 
 158 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 lawyer's eyes. "Do you know, Lamond, I never see a 
 young man like that without thinking of my own boy, 
 Neil. I Ve not heard from him for weeks. How I wish 
 he was here." 
 
 "You arc a young looking man to have a grown-up 
 son, Merriford," John Speer said, looking at the lawyer. 
 "How old is he?" 
 
 " Neil is only twenty-two. Young Darrow makes me 
 think of him every day. He's about the same build. 
 They could almost be mistaken for each other in the 
 dark. Neil is having a little affair of the heart now. 
 Just the age to take things seriously, you know;" and 
 the lawyer smiled. 
 
 A shout, a hallooing, and then a roar of voices called 
 their attention. Down the street a crowd was gathering 
 about a loaded wagon in front of the Eldridge House, 
 and they hurried to join the company. Two men stood 
 smiling triumphantly beside their team, answering the 
 questions put by the eager crowd. 
 
 By cleverest stratagem and daring, a twelve-pound 
 cannon in this wagon had been brought up from West- 
 port carefully boxed, like a carriage packed for shipping, 
 and hidden under innocent looking mattresses and other 
 furniture. 
 
 " Yes, we saw plenty of men who would have killed us 
 if they had known what we were up to," one man was 
 saying. " At an ugly place in the road we asked a bunch 
 of innocent bystanders to help push our wagon up the 
 slippery bank out of the mud, and they fell to like good 
 fellows, and sweated and tramped mud and swore at the 
 roads, never dreaming they were pushing a cannon on 
 toward Lawrence with every grunt. If they had known 
 what was in the wagon there 'd have been a wayside
 
 A WARLIKE PEACE 159 
 
 tragedy to match up along with the murder of Dow and 
 arrest of Branson." 
 
 " Darrow was right last night," John Speer declared, 
 as he listened to the men. "It is a fair day for us. I 
 hope Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Brown will get here soon 
 and bring with them what they went to get. They left 
 town early for a long drive to Mrs. Brown's father's 
 place. They have taken fearful chances to-day, and their 
 success is our salvation." 
 
 And this was true ; for in the morning of this day, two 
 Lawrence women, Margaret Wood and Lois Brown, had 
 dared to go out for stores of ammunition concealed on a 
 settler's claim many miles away. This journey promised 
 only death to men if they should attempt it. For the 
 women, had their purpose been discovered, the anger 
 and cruelty of their foes can hardly be guessed at. 
 Underneath every wall of men, upreared in firmness for 
 a nation's defence, if we but dig deep enough, we shall 
 find the foundation stones are courageous women's 
 hearts. And these two women had taken all the chances 
 of a lawless land, where human passions rioted in un 
 restraint that they might bring the sinews of war to the 
 defence of a just cause. 
 
 Even as the editor was speaking a shout arose down 
 Massachusetts Street toward the south, a cry caught 
 up and repeated from house to house and fortified point 
 to point. 
 
 Down the broad street, rolling in with the gathering 
 crowd increasing as they passed, Mrs. Brown and Mrs. 
 Wood came loaded with their precious stores of powder 
 and lead. Doctor Robinson, with Colonel Lane and 
 other leading men, hurried down the street to receive the 
 two and to rejoice in their courageous feat. 
 
 At the Eldridge House a messenger awaited their
 
 160 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 return. His message was brief, but it made the third 
 moment of thanksgiving for this December afternoon. 
 
 "Governor Shannon will be here to-morrow and the 
 end of the war may be in sight." 
 
 Then the hearts of the people, so cast down twenty- 
 four hours before, rose to buoyancy again ; a cannon for 
 defence; ammunition for firearms; and the Governor 
 coming to Lawrence to see for himself what had been 
 reported to him as a gang of ruffians, knowing no law, 
 resisting all civil authority, and deadly in their menace 
 to the Territory. The sun went down behind Mount 
 Oread, and the shadows of evening fell on the be 
 leaguered town wherein hope and determination had 
 risen anew in the hearts of men. 
 
 The sun went down beyond the rim of the prairie, and 
 the evening shadows gathered about a far-away cabin. 
 A lonely young wife looked out across the wide spaces 
 and listened to the December winds sighing, and her 
 spirit sent back an answering sigh. She had tried to be 
 brave. All day she had kept her hands busy that she 
 might not feel the burden of her loneliness and her 
 anxiety for the safety of her loved one gone now to the 
 defence of Lawrence. But when twilight came and she 
 could only sit and think, her courage ebbed away. To 
 night she had been unusually heavy-hearted, so she tried 
 to dream of happier things ; to fancy her husband might 
 even now be on his way home. He had promised to 
 come at the first moment. Her face grew radiant with 
 love as she thought she heard a horse's feet on the hard 
 roadway. Surely he must be coming, for the sounds 
 grew louder, and the horseman was making straight to 
 her door. Oh, the happiness of meeting is so sweet, that 
 the sorrow of parting is soon forgotten, and with a thrill 
 of thankfulness and joy the young wife went forth think-
 
 A WARLIKE PEACE 161 
 
 ing to greet her loved one. And the shadows of evening 
 deepened into the duller tones of night. 
 
 Through the purple twilight of this December evening 
 a courier came scurrying up from the southwest, rushing 
 as the bearer of evil tidings must needs rush, with the 
 message that shall wring men's hearts with grief and 
 rage. Had he come to say that the men on the Waka- 
 rusa were moving upon Lawrence, it would have been 
 nothing beyond expectation. But the news he bore was 
 of a wanton assassination of a defenceless man unarmed 
 passing peaceably on his homeward way. No cause for 
 the act, no crime, no provocation in heated quarrel, no 
 old grudge settled, but shot in the back by the leader of 
 a band of Pro-Slavery men, he fell to his death. And 
 the man who did the infamous deed rode on gaily to the 
 Wakarusa camp, exulting in the declaration that he " had 
 sent one damned abolitionist to his winter quarters." 
 
 The horse whose hoof-beats the lonely young wife had 
 heard so joyfully bore a courier to that cabin door also 
 with the message old as the story of Abel, but with no 
 edge of its heart-breaking grief ever yet softened away. 
 The message of a young life crushed out by the hand of 
 a brother Cain. 
 
 Out on the desolate winter prairie young Barber lay 
 white and still where he had fallen. "Sent to winter 
 quarters ! " Nay, sent to the land of eternal peace. Sent 
 to a martyr's doom, and beyond that to a martyr's im 
 perishable glory. 
 
 Tenderly the body was borne back to the town from 
 which only a few hours before he had gone out so strong 
 and hopeful, and the men who had last talked with him 
 looked down upon him with dry eyes of unspeakable 
 sorrow. Beautiful in death the young form lay, mute 
 witness to the sacrifice that must be offered up before
 
 162 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 the dream of liberty that men had cherished should be 
 come the law of the land, known and honored of all men. 
 
 Whether it was the silent influence of the martyred 
 young pioneer so still in death, or a natural sense of 
 justice, or a will too weak to resist the last wind that 
 blows upon it, or a brain muddled with too much drink, 
 the outcome of Governor Shannon's visit was a truce to 
 hostilities and a disbanding of the forces on the Waka- 
 rusa. Not all the men in Lawrence were satisfied, how 
 ever, for they saw no permanent gain in the temporary 
 lull. They felt themselves no safer from attack, and the 
 Territory in no wise more free from the invading law 
 less enemy, nor any stronger civil power to which they 
 might appeal at home. 
 
 Volunteers who had just heard the call for aid in those 
 slow-going days were coming in daily. Among these a 
 wagon carrying five stalwart men rattled up Massachu 
 setts street with the Stars and Stripes flying above it. 
 
 "Now who comes here so gallantly, I wonder?" 
 Winthrop Merriford said, as he caught sight of this 
 vehicle. 
 
 " That 's Mars'r John Brown, Mars'r Merriford," Jupe 
 explained. 
 
 " Well, how do you know him, Jupe ? " queried Merri 
 ford. 
 
 The negro hesitated a moment, then said so glibly that 
 Merriford knew he was lying, " Oh, I knowed him down 
 Souf used to live in Georgia when I was a slave." 
 
 " He did? Is he a Pro-Slavery man? " 
 
 " 'Fore God Almighty, no, sah," Jupe fairly thundered 
 back. " He 's the worstest slave-hatin' man ever come 
 out of New York, sah." 
 
 " Thought you said he came from Georgia," Merriford 
 said, dryly.
 
 A WARLIKE PEACE 163 
 
 " Makes no difference where he come from. It 's where 
 a man's gwine to what counts here in Kansas. Don't 
 pay to ask too close 'bout none of us, 'cause we had such 
 sundry and divers reasons for comin', 'specially divers. 
 Ef we had n't div and come to the top more 'n onct some 
 of us 'd never a got here," and Jupe grinned broadly. 
 
 " I guess you are right, Jupe. It makes little difference 
 where we come from so we stand up solidly here and 
 keep our balance. Hold that in mind yourself, and run, 
 now, and call this man Brown in here. I want to know 
 him." 
 
 By the next night the terms of peace were established. 
 The Free-State men were allowed to keep their arms, 
 which had been at first Demanded of them, and the right 
 to organize a militia was granted. Whether the men of 
 Lawrence or the men in Sheriff Jones' camp despised 
 Governor Shannon most, it were hard to say. 
 
 With the conclusion of the treaty the forces on the 
 Wakarusa were ordered to disperse. Followed then a 
 wild rout for the Eastern border. And the disorganized, 
 angry, disappointed horde swept the country, raiding 
 as they went. Or, intrenching themselves in friendly 
 quarters, this outlaw pack in little bands scourged the 
 settlements, filling the settlers' homes with fear. 
 
 On the evening of this day of treaty a terrific storm 
 of wind and sleet, fit token of a warlike peace, fell upon 
 the earth with blinding fury. Inside of Merriford's office, 
 snug away from the storm without, the terms of the 
 peace treaty were riddled through with heated words. 
 David Lamond and Hiram Darrow, Lawyer Merriford 
 and John Speer, with others of smaller influence, made 
 up the company with John Brown, Jupe's "worstest 
 hater of slavery," who had come up the day before with 
 the flag of our country flying above his wagon.
 
 164 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " I tell you, gentlemen, Colonel Lane and Doctor Rob 
 inson don't represent me when they argue this policy of 
 conciliation. There is only one way to settle this busi 
 ness, and that is to fight it out. No stay of execution is 
 going to prevent the final fall of the ax." Lamond stood 
 up before the company and his face was earnest with 
 determination. 
 
 "That's what all the hot-headed fellows are saying 
 down on the intrenchments," Merriford returned. "I 
 believe, however, it is wise to settle this thing peaceably 
 now. We do not belittle ourselves. We are defending, 
 not attacking. We keep our arms. The Governor allows 
 us to organize a militia. The outsiders go back home 
 with nothing to boast of but two weeks of camping out, 
 with disagreeable weather and hardly the necessities of 
 life. We cannot win this thing in a day, Lamond, nor 
 by one battle." 
 
 "I agree with you," Hiram Darrow added. "Every 
 treaty of peace is a degree of power. The real battle is 
 not on the field but in the souls of men, and there, too, 
 is the final real victory." 
 
 "Neither was the cross on Calvary but in Geth- 
 semane," John Brown exclaimed, " but the form and sign 
 of Calvary have ruled the race for eighteen centuries. 
 I tell you, gentlemen, we have gained nothing, but wasted 
 time." In the dim light of the office lamp Brown's face 
 looked stern, and his eyes were burning with a strange 
 glow. "Lamond is right," he went on. "You will not 
 see happiness growing out of this peace, but sorrow and 
 anguish until the hour when the crimes of the land 
 are avenged." 
 
 " You are to be at the head of the militia, are n't you, 
 Brown?" Merriford asked. "You will have some power 
 to act. I know this is a time of truce nothing more.
 
 A WARLIKE PEACE 165 
 
 But the winter is no time to leave women and children 
 alone. It is only merciful to our own to rest on our 
 arms awhile." 
 
 " Still," Speer broke in, " one battle might have ended 
 the whole matter, or at least one short campaign could 
 have done it. I believe in finishing a work once begun, 
 and since the only way under heaven to reach the end 
 of this thing is to strike and strike hard, it might better 
 have been now than later. I hate to see fortifications 
 lying around waiting to be used. I want them plowed 
 down and set to garden truck, and our spears used for 
 'pruning hooks.'" 
 
 "They will not grow potatoes when we plow them 
 with cannon ball," Darrow offered. 
 
 "No, no," Lamond exclaimed, "maybe not; but we 
 sow dragon's teeth with our string beans to spring up 
 armed men. And that 's the crop that this summer will 
 sow." 
 
 "I agree with you," John Brown said, thoughtfully. 
 " If it is a question of swift war, or organizing lingering 
 peace and disgrace, give me war," and with these words 
 the company separated. 
 
 " Listen to the storm, Jupe ; are you sure everything is 
 closed up for the night?" Merriford asked, as he entered 
 his own door. 
 
 "Close as I could make. Hit's an awful night," Jupe 
 answered. 
 
 "Yes, I pity the settlers in the cold little, unchinked 
 cabins out on the prairies to-night. Heavens! What a 
 sacrifice men and women make to win a land to free 
 dom," Merriford mused. 
 
 " Yes, sah. Only the mens, they sacrifice for the coun 
 try, and the womens they sacrifice for the mens, seems 
 to me," Jupe philosophized.
 
 166 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Jupe, I 'd feel bad even to have a grave of one I loved 
 under this beating storm. Poor Mrs. Barber ! " 
 
 Jupe's face was pitiful to see as he turned his pleading 
 eyes on his employer. 
 
 " Lord A'mighty keep you from ever havin* or ever 
 knowin'," he added under his breath, and with a deep 
 sigh he turned away.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 THE STORM 
 
 I have read in the marvelous heart of man, 
 
 That strange and mystic scroll, 
 That an army of phantoms vast and wan 
 
 Beleaguer the human soul. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 THE fury of the storm increased. Out in the open 
 country it hammered mercilessly on the flat, resist 
 less, grassy plains. It wrenched in wrath at every tree 
 and shrub. It screamed in anger down every open draw 
 and shaded ravine. It hurled its violent rage upon every 
 human habitation, and the shelter built by human hands 
 for dumb animals. Many a stable-shack lost its roof or 
 door or tumbled in a heap about its occupants. While 
 through unchinked walls and about flimsy doors and 
 window casings of the cabin home it sent its swift 
 sword-like tongues of bitter, penetrating chill. 
 
 In the Vinland Valley the sweep of the winds was un 
 checked, and the wooded headland stood out boldly to 
 meet its fury, while down the winding way of the old 
 Santa Fe Trail the dead leaves swirled in eddies upon 
 the floor of the sheltered nooks under overhanging 
 shelves. The Hole in the Rock, with its partial coating 
 of black ice, seemed never so cruel as now, with its thin, 
 treacherous covering above the bitterly chill waters. 
 
 The Darrow home, although on the top of the swell, 
 was sheltered about with cedar trees. Its odd arrange 
 ment of rooms and halls had been accidental in the build- 
 
 167
 
 168 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 ing, and as it was only a temporary structure, comfort 
 was considered more than anything else in this winter 
 time. The little arms of hallways furnished storerooms 
 for wood and water, and with curtains and heavy paper 
 linings the low-roofed house was snug and warm. 
 
 " We '11 have a fine home here some day," H iram Dar- 
 row had said, "built after the colonial pattern, and we 
 shall forget this little cabin and its discomforts." 
 
 "I hope not entirely," his wife replied. "We shall 
 be happier for the memory of it." 
 
 "I'll build a Darrarat on the new house, too," Mark 
 declared. " I 'm bound to see what 's goin' on." 
 
 With the breaking of the storm, a Palmyra man, com 
 ing in from Lawrence, had brought the word of the 
 treaty of peace. But Isabel was a wise woman and she 
 had some notion of what lawlessness would follow in the 
 wake of such a treaty. She had no fear for her husband, 
 for he walked fearlessly through all his days. But she 
 was glad her boys were all at home on this wild night. 
 
 " Mother, I 'm going to see how the Lamonds are to 
 night," Elliot announced at the supper table. "I have 
 everything shut in, the hallway back here is full of wood, 
 and there is water enough in the buckets and tubs to 
 float a ship." 
 
 " Thoughtful son ! " Mark declared. " Ellie could earn 
 his way going out as a hired girl, 'most anywhere." 
 
 " I would try to stand on my feet and not on my head 
 when I was helping the women folks," Elliot answered, 
 with a glance at Mark's bandaged foot. 
 
 "Yes, and not come downstairs on my shoulders, 
 neither," Joe chirped up, feebly. 
 
 "There you go, all of you, beating up a battered old 
 veteran of the War of 1812, when he can't help hisself. 
 May you live to repent it, gentlemen. May you live to
 
 THE STORM 169 
 
 repent it ! Oh, my ! " and Mark sighed in mock resigna 
 tion of spirit. 
 
 Isabel Darrow only smiled at all this. The boys had 
 teased one another from babyhood, and their sense of 
 humor lightened the harsh way of frontier living. But as 
 the wind roared angrily among the cedars outside, she 
 said: 
 
 "It seems dreadfully rough out. I wish thee might 
 stay here. But still the Lamonds might need thee." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Lamond needs him bad. It's not so im 
 portant about Beth, but Elliot can't let the elders suffer. 
 Count on him." 
 
 " No, no," Joe said, demurely. " Elliot would wade 
 any snowdrift for Mrs. Lamond." 
 
 " Seems to me it 's the Revolutionary War veteran get 
 ting it now," Elliot said, with a smile. " Look out, 
 Josephus. It 's the Mexican War soldier's turn next." 
 
 "Going to walk or ride?" Mark inquired as Elliot 
 started toward the door. 
 
 " Ride, my boy, ride. I '11 slip the white palfrey into 
 Lamonds' stable while I am there. I would never leave 
 a horse out in the shelter of a lariat pin on a night like 
 this, but neither do I consider a horse better than myself, 
 to stand in a warm stable while I walk against the wind. 
 You need to learn balance, Marcus." 
 
 " Say, Ellie, come here," and Mark motioned to him to 
 stoop down. Then in a low tone he said : " Could you 
 possibly go to Penwin's, too? Tarley was here yester 
 day and told Joe that Old Bonny excuse me, I mean 
 Colonel Penwin had sent for Craig to go up to Law 
 rence or the Wakarusa or somewhere, and they won't 
 be back for three days. Now it's Saturday night, and 
 I 'm afraid they might need something." 
 
 " Good boy," Elliot said, looking down on Mark with
 
 170 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 kindly eyes. " Yes, I '11 go. I expect Tarleton needs me 
 bad," and Elliot dodged out of the door just in time to 
 miss Mark's improvised crutch. 
 
 A few minutes later they heard his clear voice singing 
 some sweet old song as he went bravely forth against the 
 storm. 
 
 Isabel pressed her face against the window pane just 
 in time to catch a glimpse of the white horse and the 
 young rider with his white face outlined by dark hair. 
 Then the black night swallowed them and the wind 
 whirled the sleet at her from beyond the window. A 
 sense of dread and loneliness seized her, and she longed 
 to rush after her boy. Then in the silence of her soul 
 she lifted her hands to Him in whom she trusted. 
 
 "A thousand shall fall at his side and ten thousand at 
 his right hand, but it shall not come nigh him," she 
 murmured. 
 
 Out in the night Elliot went singing on his way. The 
 young form had grown sturdier each day since his com 
 ing to Kansas, and the vigor of a man nerved his arm to 
 strength. 
 
 " I '11 go to Penwins' first," he said to himself. " It 's 
 a fight against the wind coming back, but" he smiled 
 in the dark "there's something to come back for, 
 maybe," and he galloped merrily with the wind toward 
 the South. 
 
 " Oh, Elliot Darrow," Lucy cried when she saw who 
 stood at the door. "I thought I heard papa coming 
 home. It must have been you I heard. It 's so good of 
 you to come." 
 
 And Elliot with neighborly courtesy did sundry little 
 undone chores for the household. Then he tightened up the 
 windows and barred out the storm before taking leave. 
 As he stood in the light of the open door, where Lucy
 
 THE STORM 171 
 
 wouM persist in coming to thank him in her girlish 
 enthusiasm, one might travel far before finding a young 
 man upon whom Nature had smiled more graciously. 
 
 " Stay all night," Lucy urged. " It 's too bad to try to 
 go north against this wind." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm not afraid of it," Elliot declared. 
 
 "Elliot isn't afraid of anything, are you?" Tarleton 
 said. 
 
 " Well, not of the wind, at least," he answered, smiling 
 genially, as he closed the door, shutting them inside. 
 
 Then he mounted his horse and was off again. The 
 darkness concealed him the moment the door was closed. 
 That was why a horseman coming in from the north 
 west saw only the young man in the light of the doorway, 
 and, following stealthily at a distance, did not know that 
 Elliot was on horseback and had gained space ahead 
 beyond his reckoning. And Elliot forged onward, uncon 
 scious that any other human being was abroad on the 
 prairies in this fierce storm. In the shadow of the wood, 
 where the night was very black, a man slipped from out 
 of the blank depths and fell into the Trail behind him. 
 Steadily as he urged his horse against the wind the silent 
 footman followed. They had almost reached the edge of 
 the wood on the height overlooking the Vinland Valley 
 when Elliot, whose keen eyes saw far into the darkness, 
 caught the landmark of the by-trail leading out of the 
 wood toward Lamond's claim, and deftly wheeling his 
 horse aside he galloped off toward the sheltered nook 
 hidden from the main highway. 
 
 The lone footman, unconscious for the time that the 
 horseman had left the Trail, pressed on his way, coming 
 to the open space at the edge of the bluff. Behind him 
 a man on horseback was hurrying cautiously along. 
 Away down in the open the young Quaker was bending
 
 172 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 to the sharp north breeze, with ears muffled against the 
 stinging cold and sleet. The wind lulled to rest a mo 
 ment, the storm cloud broke in two, and in the dim light 
 the Vinland Valley lay bleak and bare. An angry storm 
 lash struck the earth again, and the cloud fused together, 
 but in the moment between, Elliot caught a faint sound 
 like a pistol shot behind him, too faint to remember in 
 the roar of the wind following it. And in a few minutes 
 more he had reached the stone cabin in the deep valley. 
 
 Beth had on the same red dress she had worn on the 
 rainy night in October when Craig Pen win had found 
 her alone and lonely. With all the raging madness out 
 side, and with this cosy hearthstone with a comely 
 matron and fair-faced girl beside it, what wonder that to 
 Elliot Darrow it should seem the crown of life's good 
 things. 
 
 "Talk about heaven when you can get into a place 
 like this," he exclaimed, as he settled into David La- 
 mond's chair by the fire. " I 've been clear to Penwins' 
 since I left home. The wind is a fright coming north." 
 
 " To Penwins' ! " Beth said, wonderingly. " What took 
 you there?" 
 
 " Oh, they are left without any men to help them, like 
 most of the settlers' homes to-night. Only" Elliot's 
 voice had something stern in it "they aren't out to 
 save the country. They don't serve at that. The Colonel 
 is upon the Wakarusa and he's sent for Craig. That's 
 why " 
 
 "Why you are playing the guardian angel to all this 
 deserted village." There was a little harsh ring to Beth's 
 voice. 
 
 "Oh, Elizabeth Lamond," her mother exclaimed. " I 'm 
 always glad to see Elliot. It was so kind of you to face 
 this storm just to see if we were safe. I 've been awake
 
 THE STORM 173 
 
 for two nights with Nethercotes' sick baby. I 'm going 
 to bed now. I can sleep with comfort." 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Lamond," Elliot said. "I came 
 especially on your account. I hope you will rest well. 
 Good night." 
 
 When her mother was gone Elliot sat looking into the 
 fire until Beth said: 
 
 "I am as grateful as mother is to you. But I don't 
 want you to misjudge Craig. You know what he did 
 for me." 
 
 " Yes, I know. I 'm glad he did it." 
 
 "Well, why do you say he's upon the Wakarusa?" 
 
 "I didn't say he was there. I said he was sent for. 
 I don't know where he is. He's not at home; I know 
 that." 
 
 " I know where he is," Beth said, spiritedly. " He 's in 
 Lawrence. Father sent a letter down by a Palmyra man 
 this afternoon. You 'd never guess what he said." 
 
 "Probably not. I'm not real swift at those things," 
 Elliot said. 
 
 Something seemed to set things wrong to-night, but 
 neither one had the clue to the cause as yet, because 
 they were young and had not yet learned how to study 
 motives that lie back of speech. 
 
 " I 've a notion not to tell you what papa said," Beth 
 said, pettishly. 
 
 "It probably doesn't concern me anyhow," Elliot re 
 torted. 
 
 " Oh, yes, it does. No, it does n't, either," and Beth's 
 cheeks grew pink. 
 
 " Then I '11 have to know," Elliot said, firmly. " What 
 ever does and does not concern me in the same sentence 
 is worth knowing." 
 
 " It is n't about you at all," Beth said daringly. " He
 
 174 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 says I 'm never to forget Craig's kindness." Elliot looked 
 steadily into the fire. " And he says there 's to be a peace 
 party Monday night, and I am to go up to Lawrence and 
 be one of the guests. Everybody will bury the hatchet. 
 Just think, Governor Shannon and Sheriff Jones will be 
 there " 
 
 "And the man who killed Barber? " Elliot asked, with 
 out looking up. 
 
 " Oh, Elliot Darrow, you are awful." 
 
 "No," answered Elliot, "that man was awful. What 
 else?" 
 
 "Father said Craig Penwin would be there, and he 
 wants me to go up to the party too, maybe. Anyhow, 
 the letter said Craig and I could represent the peace con 
 ditions between the two forces. We are good types, for 
 if I were a man I'd have been up on Mount Oread 
 doing sentinel duty for Lawrence, and Craig is a regular 
 Southerner, only he is manly and just." 
 
 "As many of them are, I have no doubt," Elliot said. 
 " We have the wrong streak of them sent in here, is all. 
 What else?" 
 
 " Father says Craig will think I owe it to him to recog 
 nize his courage. What do you think?" 
 
 " I think," Elliot answered, " that if I had saved a girl 
 from insult I would feel like I had only done my duty, 
 and that she owed me nothing. To be honest about it, 
 Beth, I don't believe Craig would expect any more than 
 that, either. What else did your father say?" 
 
 " It seems," Beth's voice was not quite steady, " that I 
 am to go to this peace party with Craig anyhow." 
 
 " Does that concern me ? " Elliot asked, still with his 
 gaze on the coals. 
 
 Beth did not reply. 
 
 He lifted his eyes and looked at her. She returned his
 
 THE STORM 175 
 
 gaze steadily. Her deep gray eyes were unfathomable 
 at this moment. At last she said: 
 "Will you go to this party?" 
 
 "I think I will," he answered. "I'm fond of peace. 
 We Quakers all are." 
 
 " Oh, Elliot ! " and Beth leaned forward with her hand 
 shading her eyes. 
 
 "I must be going now. I think I ought to see if 
 Patty Wren is all right. Think of that gritty little bird 
 staying all alone in her cabin." Elliot rose to go. 
 
 "I'm not sure she is at home yet, Elliot, and it is a 
 long, cold ride if she should not be there; but if she is, 
 it will be good of you to look after her." 
 
 " Yes, I 'm a useful sort of a watchdog," he said, gaily, 
 reaching for his cap. "I gave up my job on Mount 
 Oread to look after the women and children down here. 
 Kind of a squaw-man." 
 
 Beth was standing beside him now, watching him but 
 ton his coat up tightly. 
 
 "Elliot, you are not like the boy who went nutting 
 with me last October," she said, gently. 
 
 He looked down on her with the look a true-hearted 
 man, in all the years of his life, gives to only one woman. 
 But Beth was not looking at him just then. 
 
 " I told you, Beth," he said, in a deep but gentle tone, 
 "that I should change more, maybe, than any of the 
 others after that day that night," tenderly he pro 
 nounced the last two words. "I am not a rude fellow 
 at heart, Beth. I have wanted to tell you I had no right 
 to do what I did." 
 
 Her head had dropped low and her hands were clutch 
 ing the back of the chair by which she stood. The warm 
 red gown, fitting up to the white throat, the soft folds of 
 her golden hair, and the pretty pink bloom of her fair
 
 176 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 cheeks, with the innate beauty of her sweet-souled young 
 womanhood, made her marvelously dear and beautiful to 
 the young man beside her. 
 
 " Beth," he rested one hand softly on her shoulder, and 
 with the other he gently lifted her face till her eyes met 
 his. "I had no right to kiss you. Forgive me, won't 
 you?" 
 
 "You had no right to tell Craig you did," Beth an 
 swered quickly. 
 
 "I didn't," Elliot spoke as quickly. 
 
 " He said you did." 
 
 " He lied." Elliot's cheeks flushed and his eyes blazed. 
 Beth had never seen him look as he did now, and her 
 admiration startled her. 
 
 "Elliot, let's forget it all. Wipe it out and begin 
 again," she said, gently. 
 
 " You are good to say it, Beth. May I say just one 
 thing?" 
 
 She smiled up at him, and the hand on her shoulder 
 trembled a little. 
 
 "Your father is grateful to Craig for what he did for 
 you and Patty. So am I. But Mr. Lamond thinks I am 
 a coward. I do not know whether I am a coward or not, 
 but I hope always to have the courage to do the thing I 
 think is right, even in the face of ridicule. That's my 
 idea of courage." 
 
 The fair face with the luminous gray eyes and sunny 
 ripples of hair, young and winsomely charming, wore now 
 a grace Elliot had never seen in it before, the grace of 
 earnest womanhood. With a gentle touch he smoothed 
 the fair hair from her forehead. She looked up at him 
 and neither spoke a word. If David Lamond, who loved 
 his daughter supremely, could have seen her to-night 
 with the broad-shouldered young man standing be-
 
 THE STORM 177 
 
 side her, if he could have seen the dark eyes 
 of Elliot Darrow looking with reverence and ten 
 derness upon her, if he could have noted the strength 
 of character that lay in promise in every line of that 
 handsome young face, and if he could have heard the 
 magnetic voice saying: "I do not know yet whether 
 I am a coward or not. I hope always to have the 
 courage to do the thing I think is right, even in the 
 face of ridicule " if all this could have been, there would 
 have been a different story to tell in the pages that fol 
 low. 
 
 The firelight shown with a roseate glow making even 
 the shadows seem cosy and warm. And in the heart of 
 the rich light, Beth, in her dark crimson dress, with her 
 youth and health and beauty, and beside her, Elliot, 
 strong, capable, fearless. What were simple stone cabin 
 home and hardy frontier life to this young Scotch lassie, 
 with the sweetness and strength of her womanhood that 
 marks the rank of peerage in this prairie kingdom ! And 
 what were storm and danger to this young State builder 
 with the power to make empires in his strong right arm ! 
 If David Lamond could have only seen! But he was in 
 Lawrence now. 
 
 A moment the two stood silently together. Elliot's 
 right hand on Beth's shoulder, his left hand pushing back 
 the yellow ripples from her white forehead. Then the 
 warm snug room gave place to the darkness and the 
 storm, and the young Quaker was away. 
 
 Patty Wren was safe and warm as a cocoon in its 
 silken web, so Elliot faced eastward for the home run. 
 As he came to the Trail crossing in the ravine by the ' 
 Hole in the Rock he remembered how Cotton Mather 
 had treated Coke Wren. 
 
 " I don't care to get thrown out here to-night to freeze
 
 178 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 to death," he said, as he held the white horse down to a 
 gentle gait. 
 
 He did not note how noiselessly he went along until 
 he had reached the still, cold, black pool. The storm 
 cloud broke here once more and a weird light poured 
 through the leafless boughs into the ravine. It fell 
 upon Elliot's dark form mounted on the quiet white 
 horse. His white face and dark eyes were cameo clear 
 against the black shade beyond, as horse and man moved 
 silently as a spectre down the Trail. The horse's feet 
 struck the ice of the ford. A startled cry rising to a 
 shriek chilled the blood in his veins, and he clutched his 
 bridle rein involuntarily. Had David Lamond seen him 
 here at that moment there would never have been further 
 question with him as to the young Quaker's courage. 
 
 Elliot uttered no sound, but with a quick mastery of 
 himself, he turned to gaze after a horseman flying from 
 him as from the face of doom. 
 
 " Does Boniface Penwin take me for the figure of 
 Death riding on a pale steed this stormy night?" he 
 thought to himself. "What else could make him ride 
 from me like a mad man? I wonder if he will go to the 
 peace party, too. He needs it." 
 
 As he hurried up the Trail winding along under the 
 shelving rock of the wooded bluff he heard a faint groan. 
 He stopped to listen. The wind was not so fierce here, 
 and the way was warmer in these shut-in places. Also it 
 was black, impenetrably black. 
 
 "Here's where horse sense comes in," the young man 
 said, as he gave his own steed free rein to pick its way. 
 
 Another groan, louder this time, and another. Then a 
 faint "Help! help!" It came from the roadside under 
 the overhanging rock. 
 
 "What's the trouble?" Elliot called. He was not
 
 THESTORM 179 
 
 cowardly here, where there was ample cause to fear. 
 "Can I help you?" he called again. 
 
 "You, Darrow?" came the query. 
 
 "Yes. Who are you?" 
 
 "White Turkey. Come." Feebly the words were 
 spoken. 
 
 Elliot was groping beside him in a moment. 
 
 "You are hurt. What's the matter?" he asked the 
 Indian. 
 
 "I'm shot. Somebody behind me up there on the 
 bluff. I f m cold." 
 
 Elliot helped the Indian to rise, but he could not stand 
 alone. 
 
 "I'll set you on the horse and take you home with 
 me," he said. " We '11 see what we can do for you. How 
 did you happen to be away down here this stormy 
 night?" 
 
 " To save a life," White Turkey replied, and fell limp 
 and half conscious against the horse's saddle.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE PEACE PARTY 
 
 And bright the lamps shone o'er 
 Fair women and brave men. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 MORE than one home was in disorder on the night 
 of the " peace party " in Lawrence. Homes were 
 small in this early time on the frontier, and space was at 
 a premium. Party dresses were in the bottom trunks 
 under stacked-up possessions. Pretty headgear and 
 other appurtenances of adornment were in the top band 
 boxes on the top of the heap above cupboards and on 
 overhead shelves. These receptacles, brought out and 
 left open for the brief time, littered the rooms. 
 
 "Law, law, Mis' Merriford," Jupe said, as he came 
 grinning into the house. " I 'se done been totin' baskets 
 an' baskets of good things to the Eldridge House, pie, 
 an' poun' cake, an' fruit tarts, 'til my eyes even ain't got 
 no appetite no more. Everybody's gwine to be at that 
 party to-night, an' they shore do calculate to eat a lot." 
 
 " Yes, we '11 do the subject justice in peace as in war. 
 There will be well-dressed people, too, beside being well- 
 fed," Mrs. Merriford said. 
 
 "Well-dressed!" Jupe exclaimed. "Lord A'mighty, 
 won't they now? I never knowed before that they was 
 such finery in these here little houses. I see more boxes 
 layin' open that had been hauled out from under beds, 
 an' I see more fine dresses layin' round on chairs an' hats 
 
 180
 
 THE PEACE PARTY 181 
 
 on the bureau or the parlor stove, an* I see finery hanging 
 on the towel rack in the kitchen." 
 
 "Well, you see, Jupe," Mrs. Merriford said, laughing, 
 "We are so crowded here. Plenty of land but house- 
 room limited; we have to stow things in funny places." 
 
 " Now, jest don't you? " Jupe replied. " One lady kep' 
 her lace shawl an' her beads an' a lot of finery in a big 
 stone jar under the kitchen table, an' another had her 
 velvet hat and her husband's velvet vest in the tin cup 
 board. Said they hadn't nothin' much to eat anyhow. 
 Et what they got before it had time to be put in the tin 
 safe ; said they done forgot how cold vittle tasted 'cause 
 what they got they et up hot. Oh, golly ! golly ! " and 
 Jupe giggled joyously. 
 
 "She's told the truth, I dare say, Jupe. Now go in 
 the bedroom and get that tall bandbox off the shelf over 
 Mr. Merriford's bed. Open it and bring me my white 
 gloves and the lace collars for Annie and Nellie, and Mr. 
 Merriford's silk hat. We also economize on space." 
 
 Jupe went away, grinning. When he reappeared, his 
 face had lost its glow, and his eyes were full of a strange 
 light. 
 
 " Mis' Merriford," he said, in a low voice, " whose pic 
 ture was that in there ? " 
 
 "Where? Oh, in the box? A woman with a baby in 
 her arms? That was Mr. Merriford's first wife, Neil's 
 mother. He had it taken with Neil just the day before 
 she died. You see, Neil was only a tiny baby then. He 
 looks like his mother ; don't you think he does ? " 
 
 The Negro stared at her but said nothing. Mrs. Mer 
 riford could not understand his strange mood. 
 
 " Did you think it was one of those pictures taken after 
 death? Neil's mother was ill, but she was happy that 
 day; she thought she was going to get well. Do you
 
 182 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 know, Jupe," thinking to change the subject, "do you 
 know, I think that young Mr. Darrow looks like our Neil, 
 only younger, of course. Not a close resemblance, but 
 at a distance they might be mistaken for each other. Do 
 you know this young man when you see him?" 
 
 "Lord, Lord, no," Jupe answered in a low tone, and 
 under his breath he added, " I hopes I never will. I 
 hopes I never will." 
 
 But, however crowded for room the houses might be, 
 with the shortage of cedar chests and ample closets and 
 spacious bureaus, and chiffoniers, the toilets of the guests 
 at the peace party gave little token of a frontier people 
 outlawed from social appointments and refinement. 
 
 The party was given in the partially completed 
 Eldridge House, and no pains were spared in producing 
 a real social function with every courtesy and token of 
 good will and peace. Something, too, there was of glad 
 reaction from the tension of the last three weeks, when 
 anger and suffering and threatening peril possessed the 
 land. The leading men of Lawrence were the hosts, and 
 everybody of importance became guests. Pro-Slavery 
 and Free-State men, rich and poor, cultured and com 
 monplace, old and young, there were no lines drawn. 
 
 Jupe afterwards declared, "The only thing that kept 
 the affair from bein' real hash was that they mixed 
 in everything but the Indians and the darkeys. And 
 yit," he philosophized, " the real peaceablest folks on the 
 Kaw is them Delawares over north and us few colored 
 aristocrats on this side, sah." 
 
 The Wrens were on hand early, for they were emi 
 nently gregarious birds. Coke wore a boiled shirt and 
 a stiff little black and white bow tie ; while Patty looked 
 ever so neat in her brown alpaca gown with collar and 
 cuffs of tatting, cloverleaf pattern, made out of number
 
 THE PEACE PARTY 183 
 
 eighty thread and "hooked" together with a crochet 
 hook. Patty's brown hair was smooth and trim as a 
 wren's feathers, and with her bright eyes and kind little 
 face she was far from being the least important figure in 
 that company. For inborn kindness and good will, to 
 gether with a lively interest in the world as it moves 
 along, and a keen sense of humor, make desirable com 
 panionship always. 
 
 " Heavens to Betsey ! Cokey, dear, do look a-comin' ! " 
 Patty ejaculated as the guests streamed in. "They's 
 about eight hundred invited, an' they must be eight thou 
 sand by this time, an' more on the stairs. I did n't know 
 they was this many folks in the world." 
 
 She was sitting on the top of a table, for better view 
 ing facilities, and her eyes fairly sparkled as she noted 
 the ingathering crowd. 
 
 "Are you uneasy about the partakin's, Patty?" Coke 
 asked. " Don't worry. I seen a man with a wooden 
 leg. He won't need so much to eat ; an' they 's several 
 more or less wooden-headed ones." 
 
 "Oh, Coke Wren! they's food enough for a whole 
 Valley Forge to founder on. Beats the world the way 
 these Kansas people do things. Pile up a wad of earth 
 works an' stick up a sign, ' Come over here an' git shot,' 
 on top of it an' set down beside it to watch one day ; an' 
 the next day, smash down the earthworks, an' use the 
 sign for firewood to cook an' bake, an' feed the same 
 parties as hereinbefore referred to." 
 
 " No, Patty, they leave the sign up, but they add to it, 
 ' or behave yourself, an' git fed.' There 's Sheriff Jones. 
 See him swagger." 
 
 "An' ef there ain't Beth Lamond and Craig Penwin. 
 My land o' love, but don't they look fine? An' Colonel 
 Boniface Penwin 1 Ef that ain't the wolf dwellin' with the
 
 184 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 lamb an' the leopard with the kid, I '11 go an' change the 
 spots on the leopard, what the Good Book says he can't 
 change hisself." 
 
 "I shouldn't think you'd say a word about Craig, 
 Patty," Coke said, reproachfully. 
 
 " I ain't, Cokey, I ain't. He 's a fine man, and I '11 hear 
 his ' Into the woods, you devils,' like he shouted to them 
 rascals in the ravine, till the day of my death. It's 
 Colonel Boniface hisself I 'm lookin' at. Fine lookin' as 
 ever walked the Lord's footstool. An' how proud he 
 looks at Craig. But 'tween us two Wrens, that man 's a 
 walking shell of manhood. The real man 's been eat out 
 somehow. He's a-wearin' a lion's hide over a craven's 
 heart, or else the Good Bein' give me the wrong kind of 
 eyes. They're no use to me ef they don't let me see 
 true." 
 
 Other eyes than the Wrens' were looking at Craig and 
 Beth as they passed down the room, for they were worth 
 a second look. There were mothers with little children, 
 and there were not a few young brides in the Territory, 
 but of young ladies it had not yet a plethora. Moreover, 
 it was Beth's first real party, and the debutante is always 
 interesting. But mostly and supremely was Beth in her 
 self delightful that night. The excitement of the hour 
 set the pink bloom on her cheeks and drew the sharp 
 line between that and the white of her brow and throat. 
 Her dress was of soft silk of the Lamond plaid colors, 
 gray, green and deep blue, with the silver thread check 
 ing it, but all toned down to harmony and wonderfully 
 becoming to her blond beauty. In her hair and at her 
 throat little pink velvet bows nestled. Her sleeves 
 reached just below her elbows, and a fall of lace revealed 
 her plump arms. She wore no jewelry, except a string 
 of pink coral beads.
 
 THE PEACE PARTY 185 
 
 Craig held his head high, with the air of a young man 
 who had secured the best of what life was to offer. 
 
 In the whole company, the most distinguished looking 
 man was the Southern gentleman, Boniface Penwin. 
 Genial, well-bred, and well-dressed, he made the com 
 pany forget its prejudice against him in spite of itself. 
 
 " That 's David Lamond's girl, Emily," Winthrop Mer- 
 riford said to his wife. " She 's a beauty. Looks like her 
 sturdy father, too. He's a man of a thousand, with all 
 the good traits of the loyal Scotch people. Unprejudiced, 
 too, or his daughter would n't be here with Colonel Pen- 
 win's son. Lamond is square and true." 
 
 "Since he rescued Miss Lamond with Patty from the 
 ruffians, I should think she owed him something," Mrs. 
 Merriford said. 
 
 "Yes, something." Lawyer Merriford was a shrewd 
 man. " But if it 's going to grow as an obligation along 
 certain Knes, Lamond will better think twice about it, 
 before he lays too much on the girl's conscience in that 
 respect." 
 
 "Well, they seem satisfied, so we need not be dis 
 turbed," Mrs. Merriford offered. 
 
 " Don't you know it 's a lawyer's business to be dis 
 turbed?" her husband asked, jokingly. "And if it is 
 going to tangle things up and make family tragedies 
 when the fighting begins again, it would be best to be 
 disturbed now." 
 
 "Will there be fighting again? I thought this was to 
 be the peace-offering to-night." Mrs. Merriford spoke 
 seriously. 
 
 "Of course there will, Emily. There's nothing set 
 tled. Nothing safe. This is only a truce. We get our 
 selves into better trim and we can fight the weather for 
 our families this winter. The spring will thaw the snake
 
 186 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 we 've scotched, not killed. ' She '11 close and be herself 
 again/ as Shakespeare says." 
 
 The commotion of getting seated and ready for the 
 speech-making followed. 
 
 " Right this way, Darrow. Plenty of seats here," John 
 Speer called as a crowd of newcomers entered the door. 
 " Right down here. We are waiting for you," he added, 
 jovially. 
 
 The crowd turned to see Elliot Darrow and a petite 
 stylish girl who must needs take Speer's proffered cour 
 tesy. 
 
 There are those who make their presence felt as soon 
 as they enter a room, although no word may be said. 
 Elliot Darrow walked easily down the long room, not 
 with the manner of the polished gentleman, but with the 
 innate simplicity and the attractiveness of the man who 
 is not thinking of himself. Beside him was a young lady, 
 well-dressed and, for her type, handsome. She was short 
 and slender with an abundance of black hair and large 
 dark eyes. Her eyelashes were long, and with her heavy 
 brows made her face a striking one. She wore a dress 
 of some light blue wool, braided daintily with black 
 silken cord, and in her raven hair was a bunch of blue 
 velvet forget-me-nots. 
 
 The crowd had settled just enough for the two to 
 attract its gaze, if indeed they would not have done so 
 anyhow. And as they were shown to a place of promi 
 nence, a murmur of interested comment ran through the 
 company. 
 
 " I want to know. Ain't the boy good looking! " Coke 
 Wren exclaimed, loud enough to be heard by Beth and 
 Craig, who sat just in front of them. " Ain't we proud 
 of our part of the company, Beth?" Coke whispered, 
 leaning forward, regardless of Patty's poke in his side.
 
 THE PEACE PARTY 187 
 
 The two in front turned at Wren's words, and Beth 
 smiled cordially, but Craig's thin lips were set. 
 
 "Who is she, Coke?" Merriford asked, leaning back 
 to whisper behind his wife and Patty. 
 
 " I don't know. Ask Mis' Merriford," Coke whispered 
 back. 
 
 " Coke Wren, you ain't got a grain of sense," Patty 
 said in her husband's ear. 
 
 " Don't need any in the family I live with," Coke 
 answered, as he chucked Patty's chin playfully. 
 
 "Who is she, Emily?" Merriford's shrill whisper 
 reached also to the ears of the young people in front of 
 them. When a man does whisper he never makes a 
 bungle of it. 
 
 " You men are the biggest gossips I ever saw," Mrs. 
 Merriford returned. " If you are n't lined up against the 
 Pro-Slavery people, you line up to discuss what belongs 
 strictly to Patty and me to consider. Tha^ 's Doctor St. 
 Felix's daughter. They've just come to the Eldridge 
 House. He does n't say a word about his beliefs, but he 
 didn't join your garrison forces. The young men were 
 the first to know her. Girls are at a premium here, as 
 well as down toward Palmyra, Coke, and the young fel 
 lows who were up here these three weeks soon found all 
 there are here. Her name is Rosalind. Pretty name, 
 isn't it? That's all I know." Then in a lower tone, 
 Mrs. Merriford added, " Mr. Darrow does remind me of 
 Neil." 
 
 " Rosalind St. Felix ! " Coke repeated. " What novel do 
 you reckon her mother was readin' when she was born? 
 How'd Elliot get to know her so quick, do you s'pose? 
 He knows a good thing at sight, I reckon." 
 
 " Oh, he went to her pa for medicine for Joey, 'cause 
 Doc Robinson was doin' better work carin' for all of us
 
 188 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 then. That's how," Patty whispered. "Now, do shut 
 up. The speakin's beginnin'." 
 
 On the surface the party was as successful as it was 
 entertaining. The speeches were full of fire concerning 
 the justice of the settlers' cause, and the injustice of the 
 invasion, with many compliments for the heroes who had 
 brought the cannon safely through the enemy's country, 
 and to the heroic women, Margaret Wood and Lois 
 Brown, who had dared to go for ammunition in the 
 town's dire need of defence. There was much good- 
 natured joking and pleasantry at everybody's expense 
 to soften down the bitterness of conflict and every show 
 of courtesy to prove the timber of these earnest citizens, 
 who could fight but would not run. 
 
 But underneath the surface, hearts were sore and spir 
 its bitter. The murder of young Barber only a few days 
 ago, who in this very room had lain with the patient 
 serenity of the dead; the indignity of a useless hardship 
 and terror; and the sense that even the influence of this 
 peace-party would reach little further than the hours it 
 filled all kept an undercurrent of turmoil of soul unlike 
 the smooth face of affairs impressing the truth that 
 the truce was but temporary. 
 
 Two leading men were not present here. John Brown, 
 who believed that only by war could justice be secured, 
 and Hiram Darrow, who held that there is no real power 
 save the power of peace. And both had truth behind 
 them. But, however heavy the shadows of coming events 
 may have fallen to dim the light of this event in the 
 minds of thoughtful men and women there, it was a gen 
 uine delight to the young folks who thrive on the sun 
 shine and wither in the shade. Music was interspersed 
 with speech-making, of course. PMear the closing of the 
 program, John Speer, who had a genius for directing
 
 THE PEACE PARTY 189 
 
 things successfully, deftly swung the tone of the moment 
 to a lighter pitch by announcing: 
 
 " We have a fine company of young men here to-night. 
 They were no less a fine company during the unpleasant 
 weeks now over. I move you, Doctor Robinson, that 
 they be represented on our program, and that we ask Mr. 
 Elliot Darrow to sing ' The Red, White, and Blue,' and 
 we '11 all join in the chorus." 
 
 A general hand clapping and calling for "Darrow! 
 Darrow ! " " Let 's hear the Quaker." " Come on, Dar 
 row!" 
 
 Elliot's hands grew cold. His gift of song was mainly 
 an untrained inheritance, self-cultivated, because he loved 
 music, and especially the music of words. Inheritance 
 counts for much, however. Behind him was a long 
 Quaker ancestry of capable people doing as well the 
 little as the great things of their day, and calmly meeting 
 every demand, confident of victory at last. It was this 
 heritage of never faltering that staid the bashful young 
 man in what seemed to him at that instant the most 
 frightful undertaking he had ever had to encounter. 
 
 "I think the Missourians are moving on Lawrence," 
 he whispered in Speer's ear. " Let me go up on Mount 
 Oread and see." 
 
 But Speer only laughed, and the call for Darrow went 
 on. Dr. Robinson stood smilingly commanding, and the 
 young man was pushed to the front by the happy crowd. 
 As he turned to face the audience, his heart beating a 
 record-making register in his breast, his eyes met David 
 Lamond's. In the Scotchman's honest face, Elliot read 
 sorrow, disbelief, and a line of something so like con 
 tempt that resentment and personal pride came to the 
 rescue where approval might have failed. But he was 
 very pale with a pallor that was accented by his dark
 
 190 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 hair and eyes. In the moment's hush he saw little Rosa 
 lind St. Felix in the front seats looking up at him with 
 happy confidence, and he smiled back at her. That 
 genial smile that always won its way to the heart seemed 
 to catch the heart of the whole room. He was almost 
 through the first stanza, however, before his voice was 
 quite under control or his self-consciousness had left him. 
 With the ringing chorus: 
 
 When borne by the red, white, and blue, 
 
 he forgot himself in the inspiration of the song. Sweet 
 and powerful, his voice rose with the next stanza : 
 
 When war winged its wide desolation, 
 
 And threatened the land to deform, 
 The ark then of freedom's foundation, 
 
 Columbia, rode safe through the storm; 
 With the garlands of vict'ry around her, 
 
 When so proudly she bore her brave crew, 
 With her flag proudly floating before her, 
 
 The boast of the red, white, and blue. 
 
 With the second chorus the crowd was on its feet in 
 that thrill of enthusiasm only patriotism for the old Stars 
 and Stripes can ever kindle. In the exaltation of the 
 moment, Elliot caught the eyes of Doctor St. Felix 
 watching him with admiration. Doctor St. Felix was a 
 small, dark, self-possessed man of affairs whose approval 
 one might value. Beside him stood Colonel Boniface 
 Penwin and Sheriff Jones. Penwin's eyes were almost 
 glassy in their fixed gaze. Even in that instant the singer 
 remembered the lull in the storm on the Trail by the 
 Hole in the Rock, and the shriek of mortal terror that 
 echoed down the narrow ravine in rivalry with the 
 screaming wind of the weather-mad night.
 
 THE PEACE PARTY 191 
 
 Craig Penwin, in front of Merriford, was very erect 
 and fine to see. But he saw no one, for his eyes were 
 fixed on the floor. And beside him stood Beth, looking 
 with wonderful intentness straight at Elliot. Her gray 
 eyes shaded with their long black lashes were full of a 
 beautiful light. Elliot did not smile back at her as he had 
 smiled at the dainty little daughter of Dr. St. Felix, and 
 Lawyer Merriford alone caught the steady gaze that was 
 only momentary but that seemed to look straight into 
 Elizabeth Lamond's soul. And the lawyer smiled with a 
 curious little pain deep in his heart as he remembered a 
 dark-haired girl whom he had known in his young man 
 hood, the mother of his first born. 
 
 " I '11 risk stakes on the Quaker," he murmured, softly, 
 and the face of his own boy came to him there. 
 
 The audience, carried away by the spirit of the song, 
 stood motionless through the last stanza. And Elliot 
 he had never sung so wonderfully before. With each 
 word ringing out distinctly and with a depth of tone 
 that was marvelously rich and musical, he sang utterly 
 unconscious that he himself was holding that company 
 by the magnetism of his own personality, as well as by 
 the rhythmical beauty of his voice. 
 
 The star spangled banner bring hither, 
 
 O'er Columbia's true sons let it wave; 
 May the wreaths they have won never wither 
 
 Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave; 
 May the service united ne'er sever, 
 
 But hold to their colors so true; 
 The Army and Navy forever, 
 
 Three cheers for the red, white, and blue. 
 
 Coke Wren's eyes were swimming with tears as he 
 hugged Patty's arm. 
 
 "Me an* you's the Kansas 'Navy forever,' Patty, ef
 
 192 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 we go by that cloudburst that washed our house away 
 last June." He had to joke to relieve his feelings. 
 
 "Don't mind bein' the Navy now and ag'in, Cokey," 
 Patty smiled through her own tears. " But this bein' the 
 ' Navy forever ' is drawin' it a little too strong on a bird 
 like me. I 'm no gull." 
 
 There were other tear-wet eyes beside the Wrens' when 
 the last chorus was ended. And David Lamond turned 
 away with a sorrowful face. 
 
 "The boy sings true. Why can't a fine fellow like 
 that have the courage of a true-hearted soldier? But if 
 he can only sing for his country, he '11 never help to win 
 its battles," and the heart of the brave Scotchman was 
 heavy within him. 
 
 The latter hours of the peace-party were delightful. 
 With the social compelling effect of appetizing refresh 
 ments and the general spirit of cordiality, and the pleas 
 ure of laying aside temporarily the burden of prejudice 
 and antagonism that the conditions of the Territory 
 enforced in the struggle for freedom, it became a time 
 of relaxation and charming intercourse. 
 
 Colonel Penwin, who knew how to be most genial, vied 
 with his son in his courtesy to Beth, introducing her to 
 the most distinguished guests, and presenting her to 
 Doctor Robinson and Colonel Lane, to Sheriff Jones, and 
 the officers of the Missouri militia. 
 
 David Lamond smiled in his sunny beard as he 
 watched the action of his political enemy. 
 
 "If he knew that golden-haired Scotch lassie as well 
 as I do, he would know how little she cares for the sham 
 and show of things. Bless her heart! Let the whole 
 family spread itself in doing honor to my daughter, if it 
 wants to. I '11 be as quick to draw my fighting sword 
 against that gentlemanly Colonel as I ever was, if he
 
 THE PEACE PARTY 193 
 
 thinks he can force his Southern views on me. But as 
 to Craig, somehow the boy attracts me. He is fine look 
 ing, to begin with, and he is straightforward, with no 
 attempt at deceit. And then I owe him lasting gratitude 
 for the rescue of Patty and Beth." 
 
 A most distinguished host of this party was Winthrop 
 Merriford, doing the honors with exceeding tact and 
 grace. And John Speer, also a man of grace in any com 
 munity, did much to prove the fine quality of the Law 
 rence citizens to their equally distinguished guests who 
 forty-eight hours before had been their bitter enemies. 
 And all the while the little Merriford and Speer children 
 raced about with the other little ones whose parents had 
 allowed them to come to this important affair. 
 
 " Mrs. Merriford, I want you and Mrs. Speer to meet 
 Miss Lamond," Winthrop Merriford said, as he rescued 
 Beth from Sheriff Jones' company, to her great relief. 
 In the midst of the greeting, Merriford caught Elliot's 
 arm, who was passing just then. 
 
 " Present us to your friend, Darrow," he said. 
 
 "In a moment; she wants to meet Craig Penwin," 
 Elliot replied just as Doctor St. Felix took his daughter's 
 arm. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," he said to Elliot. " I want Rosalind 
 to meet Colonel Penwin," and the little lady went smil 
 ingly with her father. 
 
 It happened just then, nobody could have told how, 
 for nobody planned it so, that the attention of everybody 
 else was caught away for a moment, leaving Beth and 
 Elliot side by side and a little apart from the others. 
 
 " Elliot," Beth said, with shining eyes, " you sing beau 
 tifully. I am so proud of you." 
 
 A step nearer. A voice so deep it was hardly audible, 
 and a look no other might interpret, as Elliot said :
 
 194 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Thank you, Beth. And you are beautiful. I am 
 always proud of you." 
 
 A shimmer of light blue fluffiness touched about with 
 fine black silken cord, a dancing of blue velvet forget- 
 me-nots in raven hair, and Rosalind St. Felix was at 
 Elliot's side. A throb of pain shot through Beth's heart 
 as she saw how frankly happy the dainty lady seemed 
 to claim Elliot again. The girls were introduced and 
 with Craig the four went away to the refreshment tables 
 together. 
 
 "That's the finest quartette I've yit seen," Coke 
 Wren declared as he looked after the four. "What do 
 you say, Merriford?" 
 
 "I say," answered the lawyer, "that you and I will 
 earn the reputation we have for gossiping pretty soon. 
 But there is a group of fine types, surely; the Southern 
 gentleman, the staunch Quaker boy, the Scotch lass and 
 the little French lady. All good samples, too." 
 
 And with an ache in his heart that would not be stilled 
 as he thought of his loved one under the church-yard 
 grasses back in Massachusetts, and of his boy whose 
 letter he waited day by day to receive, Winthrop Merri 
 ford turned for comfort, as he always did, to the sweet- 
 spirited woman who made his home pleasant and filled 
 his years with kind companionship. 
 
 Beth looked back as she left the door that night just 
 in time to see Elliot's gentle courtesy as he escorted 
 Rosalind down the hall toward the hotel parlors, and to 
 catch the pleasure and pretty responsiveness with which 
 the girl received his attention. 
 
 And Craig for him the beginning and the end and 
 the middle of the whole affair had had only one note. 
 It vibrated to the same tone always. 
 
 "Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 WINTER WEATHER 
 
 Ever thicker, thicker, thicker, 
 Froze the ice on lake and river, 
 Ever deeper, deeper, deeper, 
 Fell the snow o'er all the landscape. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 ON the day following the "peace-party" there was 
 a great straightening up of disordered rooms, a 
 great stowing away of party finery, a great settling down 
 to the routine of "the morning after," and a general 
 sense of the uncertainty and insecurity of the time of 
 truce. Yet the party had helped everybody, as relaxa 
 tion and playtime always help the tense mind and mus 
 cles. 
 
 Mrs. Merriford and Jupe were busy with the work of 
 putting things to rights and Annie and Nellie Merriford 
 were romping through the rooms, chattering of the eve 
 ning before, their first party with real grown-ups, when 
 Winthrop Merriford came hastily into the living-room. 
 
 Mrs. Merriford was a satisfying woman, who could 
 put more comfort with less effort into the lives she 
 touched than many a more brilliant-minded homemaker 
 could have done. But she never saw a line's width into 
 anybody's mind. Her inward happiness breathed itself 
 out to all who met her, she could not wound anyone, and 
 the dim sense of loss in her husband's maturer years was 
 of something lacking in her, although he could not have 
 said what it was. The daughters, like their mother, 
 
 195
 
 196 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 adored their father, but they never in all their years 
 understood that a shadow rested on his life. It was 
 Jupe's quick eye that caught the sign of it this morning, 
 and while the others looked up fondly and blindly, his 
 face was full of sorrow. 
 
 "Emily, I have letters from Boston," Merriford an 
 nounced. 
 
 A jubilee of shouts. Letters from home were always 
 a godsend in those lonely days. 
 
 " Come into the parlor a minute," he went on. " No, 
 girls," to the rush of the little ones, " let Jupe help you to 
 do mother's work for her now," and he turned them back. 
 
 They trotted away. Like their mother, they could be 
 happy at anything. Only Jupe looked imploringly at his 
 employer, who slapped him affectionately on the shoul 
 der as he passed, and the negro could not know how 
 that look of affectionate sympathy warmed the heart of 
 the scholarly man so far beyond him in mental attain 
 ment. 
 
 "I must go to Boston, Emily," Merriford said when 
 they were alone. He was too much of a wise lawyer to 
 plunge rashly into matters with this wife of his. "I 
 have some important news that must be considered," he 
 went on. 
 
 Emily Merriford came to his aid in her way. "We 
 can get along all right, only we '11 be lonely. It 's a good 
 time to go, too. The war is over and the winter will be 
 quiet. How's Neil? Bless his heart." 
 
 Merriford was looking out of the window just then. 
 Something in the street had caught his eyes. Mrs. Mer 
 riford turned to look, too, so she lost the deep, heart 
 breaking sigh that her husband smothered back. 
 
 " Neil is still South," he said. 
 
 "Why, Winthrop, did he go back again after all? I
 
 WINTER WEATHER 197 
 
 thought he had decided to let the matter rest awhile. 
 He's pretty young to marry yet, anyhow." 
 
 "He has never been back to Boston," her husband 
 said, gravely. 
 
 Mrs. Merriford meditated. "He hasn't written us 
 from there, has he ? I 've been so busy with this trouble 
 here, and with the sick and needy settlers, I have hardly 
 kept track of the family. Is there anything wrong?" 
 
 "I hope not," her husband responded. "You are an 
 angel in these sick places, dearie," and Merriford faced 
 his wife bravely. "I had letters from Neil's business 
 partners, the firm of Osborne, Merriford and Osborne, 
 informing me that they hear nothing from him at all and 
 urging me to come at once. I think I'll go." 
 
 " He may be in Boston by the time you get there," his 
 wife offered, consolingly. 
 
 " Yes, he may be. I must leave this afternoon." 
 
 " I '11 have everything ready for you then," Mrs. Mer 
 riford returned. " I '11 get right to work." 
 
 " Thank you, Emily," the lawyer put his arm about his 
 wife and kissed her cheek. " You are such a comfort 
 to me." 
 
 When he was in the office again Jupe came in hesi 
 tatingly. 
 
 "You gwine East, Mars'r Merriford?" he asked. 
 
 "Who told you so?" asked Merriford. 
 
 " I s'mised it," the negro answered, with a grin. 
 
 " You are a good surmiser. Now be as good an em 
 ploye, and keep things all ship-shape till I get back," 
 Merriford said, with a smile. 
 
 But there was no smile on the shining black face 
 before him. 
 
 "Don't go, Mars'r Merriford. 'Tain't no use now. 
 Don't go," he said, slowly.
 
 198 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Why not, Jupiter? None of your African supersti 
 tion now. None of your hoodoo business. If you know 
 of any reason why I shouldn't go, say so." 
 
 "I dassen't, Mars'r, 'fore God Almighty, I dassen't. 
 I hain't out of bondage yet. Not yet." 
 
 " Well, then, go back to your service and don't bother 
 me," the lawyer said, kindly. "I'm leaving this after 
 noon. Be a faithful helper here till I get back. I'm 
 going to meet Neil there if nothing happens." 
 
 "Nothin"ll happen," the negro said, slowly. "It's 
 done did," he added, as he turned away. 
 
 "Where to, so fast? You didn't get your beauty 
 sleep after the party, I'm afraid, Mr. Merriford. I 
 thought it was only doctors who had to get out early." 
 So Doctor St. Felix greeted Lawyer Merriford as the lat 
 ter collided with him on the steps of the Eldridge House. 
 
 " Good morning, Doctor ; I 'm just getting ready to 
 start out of town. Maybe I am a little breezy," Merri 
 ford replied. 
 
 " Going far? " asked the doctor. 
 
 "As far as Boston at least," came the answer. 
 
 "Will you have time to come into my office a min 
 ute?" St. Felix inquired. 
 
 "Just about that," Merriford said, and the two went 
 inside for a consultation. 
 
 It was said in Lawrence that Winthrop Merriford 
 looked ten years older the afternoon after the peace- 
 party. But he went East that evening, and the bitter 
 weather and the suffering, and the stirring swing of 
 events of the days that followed swept this particular 
 impression out of mind. 
 
 And the winter was a bitter one. Even in a land of 
 prosperity, where the common comforts are easily 
 secured, it would have been accounted severe. How
 
 WINTER WEATHER 199 
 
 much more keenly, then, did it cut into the life centers 
 on this needy frontier. Not only did the cold blasts and 
 heavy snows swoop in as a surprise, for the impression 
 of a sunny, temperate season had obtained, it fell upon 
 a people not prepared for an ordinary winter's cold. 
 The little unchinked, unfloored cabins, the scarcity of fuel 
 and of means to reach it, the lack of food and clothing, 
 and the tragic force of sickness, all combined to test the 
 souls of the pioneer people and prove their power of 
 sacrifice for freedom. Marriages may be postponed until 
 fairer weather, but births and deaths come at their 
 appointed time. Many a new mound under the snow 
 that winter was marked by a rude slab bearing the 
 inscription: "Beloved Wife and Infant Child." 
 
 It was to the homes left motherless and wifeless that 
 the pioneer women ministered most during the drear 
 January and February of this new year. 
 
 Mark Darrow was on his feet and his head again 
 in a short time, but Joe was less lucky, for pneumonia is 
 persistent, and Doctor St. Felix made more than one call 
 at the Darrow cabin. On the last occasion he brought 
 his daughter with him. 
 
 " She is the best prescription I make," he said when he 
 presented her to Isabel. " My patients begin to improve 
 the minute she comes." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Darrow, it's a case of two evils. When 
 papa can't do anything else he takes me along, and the 
 sick folks, seeing what's coming, begin to get well in 
 pure self-defence." 
 
 Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks blooming. In 
 her heavy dress and warm furs she seemed to defy the 
 chill without, and, as she was deft and sensible, as well 
 as sunny-spirited, it was easy to accept her as her father's 
 ,best prescription.
 
 200 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 " May I leave her here till I go to Palmyra, Mrs. Bar- 
 row?" the doctor asked. "I have some grave diphtheria 
 cases there, and I don't care to take Rossie into them 
 unless it is necessary." 
 
 "Certainly, let her stay," Isabel replied, and as the 
 doctor left she asked, " Does thee go with thy father into 
 contagion ? " 
 
 " If I am needed," Rosalind answered. " I 've been 
 shut in with scarlet fever, and diphtheria, and twice I 
 staid with the black small-pox. I 'm not afraid of it any 
 more. I Ve had it." 
 
 She pushed her black hair back from her forehead and 
 revealed a group of tiny scars. "I got these from the 
 first case," she said, smiling. " Now I 'm immune." 
 
 "Why did thy father let thee do it?" Isabel asked. 
 Small-pox was truly the black beast of diseases to her. 
 
 Rosalind looked up at the older woman. Her young 
 face was dimpled and her clear, dark complexion matched 
 her brilliant black eyes and heavy, glossy hair. A quick 
 smile and a joyous nature were hers, too. It sent a 
 thrill through the heart of the Quaker woman when she 
 said simply: 
 
 " Mrs. Darrow, my mother died with small-pox. They 
 would n't let me go to her. After that I went to the first 
 case I could, and now I have no fear of it." 
 
 Rosalind had her father's quiet way with the sick. 
 She won Joe's heart at once, and she was telling him 
 stories and bathing his face at the same time when Beth 
 Lamond came unannounced into the sickroom. 
 
 "Mark sent me in, Mrs. Darrow," she began in 
 apology for her sudden appearance, but she paused at 
 sight of the dainty little lady sitting there so perfectly 
 at home and useful. Something more than surprise held 
 the Scotch lassie. In that moment a vision swept up in
 
 WINTER WEATHER 201 
 
 imagination, a picture she would not have made herself, 
 but her imagination made it without her leave. A pic 
 ture wherein the central figure was this same little lady, 
 in her own home, caring for children; this girl in her 
 neat-fitting dress of dark green cloth with a touch of red 
 in little out-cropping threads here and there, and the cun 
 ning little red satin bow tied at her white collar. And 
 the other figure in Beth's picture was a broad-shouldered, 
 dark-haired man, a man whose kindly smile won every 
 body to him. 
 
 Youth can live ages in a minute, and Beth, standing in 
 the hall doorway, saw long, lonely years roll by in that 
 brief instant. She wondered as they rolled how she could 
 ever have felt angry because Elliot once oh, ages ago 
 once, had kissed her. Or how she could ever have 
 grieved him, if indeed she had, with her praise of Craig. 
 But wondering ceased, and pictures faded, for Rosalind 
 herself was smiling up at Beth and the two were greet 
 ing each other and saying commonplace things. 
 
 The sound of footsteps in the kitchen made Joe cry 
 out: 
 
 "That's Elliot. Come in, Ellie, I want to show you 
 something. Keep still, girls, and surprise him," he added 
 in a lower tone. 
 
 "All right, Joedicker, in a minute; let me wash my 
 hands," came the cheery response. 
 
 They heard him splashing water in the kitchen, whis 
 tling and singing by turns. His voice at low pitch was 
 especially melodious, and he had hummed the first lines 
 of the old song : 
 
 I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls, 
 
 and as he set the basin in its place and came into the hall 
 he had reached the softly ringing words :
 
 202 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 I also dreamt, which pleased me most, 
 That you loved me still the same. 
 
 " Take your choice," Joe cried, gleefully. 
 
 Elliot stopped in surprise. The girls were looking at 
 him unconscious of the expectancy that each face held, 
 but the young man, who was not blind, saw it quickly. 
 
 " Well, it 's an embarrassment of riches, little brother ; 
 I '11 take both," he smiled genially and held out a hand to 
 each. " Only they don't either one want me. They came 
 to see you. I come in for reflected glory." 
 
 How could Rosalind St. Felix know that while the 
 same smile and same hand clasp were for both, when the 
 young Quaker turned to Beth there was something in 
 the glance that had not been there before. But if Rosa 
 lind failed to see what was not intended for her, 
 Isabel Darrow across the room had come in just in time 
 to note it and understand its meaning. She looked curi 
 ously at Beth with that same sense of loss and choking 
 sensation mothers have had as long ago, maybe, as the 
 time of Eve herself, when she first knew that Cain meant 
 to take a wife from the land of Nod. The sense of the 
 first rift between the supremacy of love of mother and 
 that second supremacy of human love. 
 
 Few mothers have there ever been who met this mo 
 ment calmly nor fought any battle with their aching 
 hearts before they yielded to the inevitable. Isabel Dar 
 row was wise with a broad, womanly wisdom, and the 
 picture her imagination created then, like unto the one 
 Beth's mind had made, but not the same, was half a joy 
 and half a sorrow to her. It would take the silent places 
 and the silent hours wherein her Quaker spirit would be 
 in quiet peace before complete mastery would be hers. 
 Just now she came to her son's side, and neither one could 
 know how to the two younger women she seemed the fit-
 
 WINTER WEATHER 203 
 
 test of the three to stand beside him and claim him 
 entirely. It was all a dim sense, however, not analyzed 
 and understood until long afterward. 
 
 When Doctor St. Felix called for his daughter, she 
 held Mrs. Darrow's hand clasped tightly in hers. 
 
 "May I come again?" she asked. "I have no mother 
 of my own." 
 
 Isabel looked with great mother-love down into her 
 pleading face. 
 
 "Come as often as thee can," she said, cordially, and 
 she knew why she felt safer to have this girl with her 
 than anybody else just then. 
 
 EUiot tucked the robes about Rosalind when he helped 
 her into her father's buggy, and she smiled her thanks 
 with a happy light in her bright eyes. 
 
 " By the way, Darrow," the doctor said, taking up the 
 reins, "that young Delaware, White Turkey, is doing 
 well now. He stood the ride up to Lawrence all right 
 the day I took him from here, and he was heroic when 
 I probed for the bullet. Few tribes are equal in any way 
 to the Del-awares, anyhow." 
 
 " Did you find the bullet? " Elliot asked. 
 
 " Yes, close to the bone in his thigh. Loss of blood 
 was all he had to pay, but it 's a miracle it was not a fatal 
 loss of blood." 
 
 "Did you keep the bullet?" Elliot queried. 
 
 The doctor's face was impenetrable. 
 
 "No," he answered, "I gave it to him, and told him 
 to keep it. It does n't pay to get too many races tangled 
 up. One at a time is enough to work upon." 
 
 H^ had made a motion to start, but, holding his rin in 
 check, he leaned over the dashboard toward Elliot, who 
 stood with his hand on the thills. "Darrow, I am a 
 doctor of medicine, not a politician. But I am a South.
 
 204 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 erner; my beliefs are with the South in its institutions. 
 I did not come here to force my own notions on any 
 body, however. I shall think and vote and control my 
 business as I please and let others do the same, unmo 
 lested by me. I thought, though, it might be due to you 
 and your parents to know this since you are calling on 
 me for my services." 
 
 St. Felix did not explain why he said this to the son 
 instead of the father of the household. Nor did the young 
 man dream that instead of a mere explanation of views 
 on the part of the doctor, he himself was being tested for 
 his run of pure metal and dross. 
 
 "Doctor, the Darrows are Abolitionists. That's why 
 we came here to live; why my father did, and I came 
 along," Elliot smiled as he said this. " But I am here to 
 finish whatever he might leave undone. Not with burn 
 ing and slaughter, though, but with a bigger notion of 
 freedom. But we are not so narrow as to let this come 
 into business matters or neighborhood matters. You 
 suit my mother and father as a physician, and all of us 
 as a friend." 
 
 He smiled cordially, and he may have looked beyond 
 the father to the blooming face of Rosalind, who sat 
 listening eagerly. Doctor St. Felix looked keenly at him 
 the while. 
 
 "May I say a word in confidence?" he asked; then 
 added, " Be careful of yourself. You will become a mark 
 soon enough. That Indian is close as the grave, but you 
 have done well toward him. When he comes to you 
 listen to him." 
 
 Then taking his rein again, he and his daughter c^ove 
 away. 
 
 Joe was loud in his praises of Rosalind when Elliot 
 came into the room again. With the usual privilege of
 
 WINTER WEATHER 205 
 
 the youngest child he expressed himself more freely and 
 less judiciously than any other member of the family. 
 
 "Wouldn't you like to have her tell you stories and 
 bathe your lace, if you were sick, Ellie?" he insisted. 
 
 "I th.nk I would if I was real sick," Elliot answered. 
 
 "How sick?" persisted Joe. 
 
 "Oh, unconscious, probably," his brother said, care 
 lessly, for the subject was not pleasant with Beth beside 
 him. 
 
 "Oh, Elliot Darrow, you took Rosalind St. Felix to 
 the party, and you said yourself you had a good time and 
 a pretty girl, or did you say the prettiest girl, to tease 
 Mark? and you said well, I don't remember, but you 
 ought to be ashamed of yourself, don't you think?" 
 
 " I don't think anything only that you need a quieting 
 powder," Elliot answered, as he patted Joe's cheek. " You 
 take care of yourself and get well. I '11 take care of the 
 pretty girls if they will only let me. Now be still." 
 
 " Must thee be going, Beth? It is early yet, not three 
 o'clock." Isabel rose at Beth's preparations to leave. 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Darrow, I am going to Penwins' before I 
 go home, and then by Nethercotes*. I've staid too 
 long already." 
 
 "Thee couldn't do that," Isabel said, cordially, glad 
 that she could so far speak sincerely, and the Madonna 
 face of the beautiful woman was fair to see in this first 
 moment of conquest in the day's unexpected battle. 
 
 Beth looked up, gratefully. " Oh, I '11 be coming again, 
 unless the storms shut me in." 
 
 "If they do," the irrepressible Joe broke in, "Elliot 
 will go to your house. He staid up all the rest of the 
 night on the night of the first storm, and told me stories. 
 I was scared of that Indian being here. And he sang the 
 sweetest songs, and he said no storm was too bad to shut
 
 206 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 him in if he wanted to go some places. Ellie's just as 
 good, considering, he 's Mark's brother." This last for 
 Mark's benefit, who was just coming in in his usual 
 bright humor. 
 
 " Yes, yes," Mark declared. " He has a high standard 
 to measure up by." Mark stretched himself up proudly, 
 "but I believe the lad will make it. He improves per 
 ceptibly." 
 
 " Shall I go with you to Penwin's? " Elliot asked, with 
 a side-glance at Mark. 
 
 The boy pricked up his ears. 
 
 "Come on, Beth," he cried. "We know where good 
 company is. Good-by, Elliot. Good-by, Joe. I was 
 going over there, anyway." And the two hastened mer 
 rily away. 
 
 In the Penwin home a strange council was taking 
 place. Lucy and Tarleton, with Aunt Crystal, had gone 
 to Palmyra for an afternoon's buying, the Penwins 
 had money for their needs, more than most settlers, 
 and Colonel Penwin and Craig were left alone. The 
 Colonel, shut in by days of stormy weather, had seemed 
 to get a new hold on his family. And the children, 
 loving him as they had always done, had rejoiced in 
 the shut-in time that gave their father to them again 
 as he used to seem. 
 
 When the colored woman and the two younger children 
 were well away, the Colonel said, " Craig, my boy, I 
 want to talk to you as I 've never done before and may 
 never again." 
 
 Craig had been reading a worn, old copy of Byron's 
 poems in lieu of newer books, which were hard to get. 
 He looked up at his father's words. 
 
 "I hope, papa, there will be no more outbreaks on 
 either side. I don't see why there must be an eternal
 
 WINTER WEATHER 207 
 
 wrangle. Why can't people just come in here and settle 
 things by numbers." 
 
 " You are too conservative, Craig. You 'd not be a 
 very useful citizen anywhere, I 'm afraid." The Colonel 
 was clearly in a kind, fatherly mood. " It is not about 
 what is to be for this Territory that I want to consider 
 now," he went on. "It's you, yourself, I am interested 
 in. Craig, the Penwin family are first of all a family of 
 gentlemen." 
 
 Craig turned his smiling face toward his father. 
 
 " News to me," he said, jokingly. 
 
 But the older man did not smile. " Yes, sir ; we are a 
 family of gentlemen," he repeated, " and gentlemen must 
 have money. Money, or the lack of it, Craig, has been 
 the curse of this family." 
 
 "Why, papa, we always have what we need. I can't 
 remember ever wanting many things I did n't get," Craig 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " You '11 not say that long if this Territory is going 
 to keep on as it started in December. We'll be a pov 
 erty-stricken set of aristocrats working like slaves instead 
 of a set of wealthy plantation owners on these boundless 
 prairies, with plenty of slaves to work for us. 
 
 Craig said nothing, and the Colonel went on. 
 
 " Craig, my boy, I must say some things to you to-day, 
 if they are ever said." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I 'm listening," his son said. 
 
 "I came to Kansas because my business in Georgia 
 had become so embarrassed I could not keep on and live 
 as a Penwin should live. I hoped then it would be only 
 a short time until I could build up again, with new oppor 
 tunities here. I expected to buy slaves cheap in Missouri, 
 and to live like a gentleman." 
 
 " By the way, papa, did you know that Roxbury's big
 
 208 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Jupiter, from Atlanta, is up in Lawrence?" Craig asked, 
 hoping to turn to a pleasanter theme. 
 
 But his father paid no heed to his question. " I '11 be 
 frank with you, Craig. My affairs were so much entan 
 gled I couldn't get out of Georgia too fast for my own 
 comfort. Naturally, I hoped to rebuild quickly here, 
 and, by the Eternal, I mean to do it ! " 
 
 There was an explosive vehemence in the last exclama 
 tion that made Craig look up quickly. On his father's 
 face strange lines were mingled : hope, love, desperation, 
 and anguish, all struggling with anger and pride. When 
 a man's countenance becomes a play-ground for these 
 emotions in the same moment, strong forces of upheaval 
 are at work within him; and Craig stared at his father 
 in amazement. 
 
 "What do you want to tell me?" he cried, his fine, 
 sensitive nature touched by what he had seen. " Do be 
 quick." 
 
 He had never spoken so harshly to his father before, 
 and his tone cut the elder man like a knife. But it was 
 Boniface Penwin's last hour with his son. Craig dropped 
 his eyes, and his father went on : 
 
 "Craig, you and I will follow different lines of life 
 and thought. I know it as well now as when the fact 
 is old to both of us. I am proud of you. I love you. But 
 we will lead each his own life in spite of the fact that 
 we are father and son. I hope and believe you will never 
 disgrace me." 
 
 Craig looked again at his father, and the Colonel knew 
 his boy's thought and knew that Craig was aware of his 
 knowledge. Clear and loud as if he were shouting from 
 the house-tops, Craig's eyes were saying: 
 
 "May I but hope and believe you will never disgrace 
 me ! " But he said nothing.
 
 WINTER WEATHER 209 
 
 " My purpose for you henceforth is this, that you shall 
 be free from Elliot Darrow, his friendship, his criticism, 
 his rivalry, and his powerful influence. For he will be 
 a man of power." 
 
 Craig turned from his father with a haughty gesture 
 and with contempt in his tone. "Are the Penwins such 
 gentlemen that a common clod of a Hoosier boy, a 
 Quaker's son, a weak, peace-loving, cowardly Abolition 
 ist, who runs home to mamma when there's fighting to 
 be done, that from such a creature as this, is what I 
 must be set free?" 
 
 There was infinite scorn in his tone. Boniface Penwin 
 turned on him fiercely. 
 
 " Put aside your airs and listen to your father. Elliot 
 Darrow is now, and will ever be, your one great stum 
 bling block, your rival, your enemy. He shall not defeat 
 you. By all the love I hold for you, my boy, he shall not 
 ruin your life. Oh, Craig, you are my eldest born. You 
 are the image of your Aunt Lucy, my loved, my only 
 sister. Dead now. Dead ! " 
 
 The anguish of the wailing tone was heart-breaking, 
 and Craig's face was illumined with sympathy, even as 
 he struggled with his pride. 
 
 "Yes, father, yes," he cried, "but there is nothing in 
 common between us. We were friends from lack of 
 other associates, and I confess his plain honesty and 
 pleasant manners made me like him. But I am a Penwin, 
 a gentleman." And Craig stood up proudly before his 
 father. 
 
 Boniface Penwin's eyes were full of love and pride and 
 anguish again. 
 
 " You are my handsome son. You shall win to success 
 in your life. No Quaker's boy, no son of an Abolitionist, 
 shall rob you of your own. I hate him for the power
 
 210 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 that is his against you, and because his accursed face 
 reminds me ever of what I would forget." 
 
 " Oh, father, father ! " Craig exclaimed, and he put his 
 hands on his father's shoulders. " Let 's not talk of him 
 any more. I can drop him out of my mind as easily as 
 I would a bad dream. When I slept again it would be 
 forgotten. I am too much of a gentleman to hate in 
 ferior things." 
 
 " Oh, Craig yes, we '11 forget him. You may at least, 
 and I '11 see to it that he gives you no cause to remember 
 him. Now one other thing." 
 
 He looked steadily at Craig, standing now before him 
 with folded arms, his fine face insolent in its contempt. 
 
 " You shall love and marry the girl I want for you." 
 
 "Father, that is what somebody back in Georgia, I 
 forget who, Roxbury of Atlanta, maybe, said you had 
 said to Aunt Lucy." Craig was looking down in con 
 fusion now and failed to see the cold steel of his father's 
 eyes, and the ashen hue of his cheek. 
 
 "You shall love and marry, I was going to say, the 
 girl you want for your own, even Elizabeth Lamond, the 
 beauty of Kansas." 
 
 Craig dropped into his chair and leaned his head on 
 his hands, while his father continued: 
 
 " She will bring to you the best things of your life 
 honor, virtue, health, beauty, strength of mind, all are 
 hers. That sturdy, frugal Scotch father of hers will give 
 her dower. I shall see that you have full measure from 
 me. Oh, my boy, my boy, in you let me see all the 
 grand, good things that I would have put into my life. 
 Let me live in you, honored, loved, rich, and upright." 
 
 The tragedy of the voice and countenance began in a 
 dim way to reveal to Craig what a less sensitive soul 
 could not have grasped in that hour of confidence. He
 
 WINTER WEATHER 211 
 
 rose and took his father's hand. On his young face hope 
 and sorrow were writing their lines, but of high filial 
 reverence there was no trace. And the lack of it set a 
 hardness therein. 
 
 " I shall love and marry the girl I want for my own, 
 even Elizabeth Lamond," he said, slowly. "With all 
 this, Elliot Darrow has no more concern than the veriest 
 cur of the cowardly pack that gathered on the Wakarusa 
 banks last December." 
 
 A knock on the door startled the two, and Craig went 
 forward to open it. On the doorstep Beth was standing, 
 smiling expectantly. The ride in the sharp air had put 
 the June rose bloom on her cheeks, and the wind-blown 
 strands of golden hair curled softly about her face in 
 sweet carelessness. All the best gifts of her whose price 
 is far above rubies seemed to have been given to this 
 fair-faced Scotch lass, waiting for the voice of welcome 
 at Craig Penwin's door.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 
 
 We pray de Lord to gib de signs 
 
 Dat some day we be free; 
 De norf-wind tell it to de pines, 
 
 De wild duck to de sea; 
 We know de promise nebber fail, 
 
 An' nebber lie de word; 
 So, like de 'postles in de jail 
 
 We waited for de Lord. 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 BONIFACE PENWIN came forward to welcome the 
 visitor with the spirit of true Southern hospitality 
 that is the same in a Kansas cabin as in a Georgia planta 
 tion " Big House." Few people there are at any time 
 of life who are not susceptible to the influence of a genial 
 welcome. To a young girl like Beth Lamond it is espe 
 cially pleasing, for the business of genuine hospitality is 
 to accent to the guest the sense of his own worth. 
 
 Craig and his father exchanged one swift glance as 
 the girl came in. The end of their sacred hour of con 
 ference, the last one for these two, had come. Hence 
 forward each was to go his own way, and neither would 
 question the other's deeds nor motives. But as father 
 and son, they separated when the golden-haired girl came 
 between them to-day. In the older man's face was all 
 the tragical pathos of the one who is giving up what he 
 is no longer fit to hold, yet giving with it, for love's 
 sake, the awful sacrifice of his own soul, buying with 
 
 212
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 213 
 
 crime a blessing for another that the crimes already done 
 might be in some measure atoned. 
 
 In the young man's face was determination and regret 
 that was near to contempt, but there was no line of pity. 
 Had there been even the faintest hint of affectionate sor 
 row, it might have been better for the father and in 
 finitely better for him who withheld it. 
 
 "I am calling on families this fine day," Beth said, 
 gaily, " and I thought of Lucy. I had an escort from Dar- 
 rows' part of the way, but he left me to pilot a stranger 
 to Nethercotes'." 
 
 In fact, the girl had not thought of meeting the father 
 and son alone, and she was embarrassed, else she might 
 not have mentioned the name of Darrow. She knew in 
 an instant, by the exchange of glances between Colonel 
 Penwin and Craig, that she had blundered, but she also 
 thought that, being an innocent lack of tact on her part, 
 she would say nothing more. And in her soul she 
 resented the narrowness of so courteous a host who yet 
 could not brook the sound of the name of an unoffending 
 neighbor. 
 
 "Lucy and Tarleton went to Palmyra this afternoon 
 with Aunt Crystal. Craig and I have the pleasure of 
 doing the honors," the Colonel said, with a bow. 
 
 He did not realize as Craig did how easy it would be 
 to overdo matters with a sensible girl like Beth. 
 
 She took the offered seat and with pretty grace refused 
 the invitation to lay aside her wraps. 
 
 "Oh, it is just a strictly fashionable call I am mak 
 ing," she said, " and I have others on my visiting list. I 
 will be going in a minute." 
 
 " Let us serve you something, at least," Boniface Pen- 
 win said, and hastened from the room, leaving the two 
 alone.
 
 214 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 Then Craig, who had said nothing as yet, changed to 
 his best self as if by magic. 
 
 " It was kind of you to remember Lucy, Beth," he 
 said. " You cannot know how lonely she is here, nor 
 how different is this frontier to what she has always 
 known in the South." 
 
 Beth's sympathy leaped up in response. 
 
 "How careless we are, after all," she said. "We are 
 so what? bitter in our prejudices that we forget what 
 we owe to one another. May I come to see her oftener? " 
 
 " Oh, Beth, you would give her so much pleasure, as 
 you always do to all of us," Craig spoke sincerely, and he 
 realized as he had never done before how easy it became 
 to be unselfish and broad-minded and sincere with this 
 beautiful, sincere girl. 
 
 In this hour, following that strange hour just passed, 
 his father's plans for him and his own growing hopes and 
 desires possessed him. He saw clearly how all the 
 future would open to better things when these wishes 
 and plans were realized, and he set his soul to an unwa 
 vering purpose, the same purpose his father was holding 
 for him. 
 
 Colonel Penwin brought in cake and some harmless 
 fruit cordial. Beth, however, was staunch in her Presby 
 terian notion of even the semblance of evil, and she left 
 untouched the little wineglass full of its bright liquid. 
 She staid only so long as courtesy demanded, and then 
 gave her good-bys quickly. 
 
 " Wait till I get a horse, Beth, and I '11 go home with 
 you," Craig said. 
 
 "I'm not going home. I'm going to Nethercotes'," 
 Beth returned. " But I 'm just as much obliged to you." 
 
 " I '11 go with you there, then," he suggested.
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 215 
 
 " But I may whip around by Coke Wren's," she argued, 
 laughingly. 
 
 " Then by Coke Wren's I whip too," he replied. 
 
 " Well, I '11 just go straight home if you are determined 
 to go along." 
 
 "The very quickest way to get rid of me," Craig de 
 clared. 
 
 " And the best for both of you," Colonel Penwin said. 
 " It is too late for Miss Beth to make these calls now, and 
 it is not the best thing to go unattended through the 
 wooded part of the Trail." 
 
 " Oh, I am really not afraid, unless," she did not 
 finish the sentence, for she remembered that the men 
 from whom Craig had rescued her in the dark ravine were 
 men who trained in the same cause with Colonel Penwin. 
 And in her heart she despised the man behind the pretty 
 manners. But she had no quarrel with Craig. He was 
 most charming when he did unbend, and it was with 
 natural pride that Beth had noted how he was always 
 at his best with her. She was too inexperienced and too 
 free from vanity to think of him as having any deep 
 admiration for herself, but she was human enough to 
 enjoy his attentions, and conscientious in her gratitude to 
 him for his timely aid in her moment of peril. More 
 than this, she never heard his name under criticism at 
 home. David Lamond had a good word for him ever, 
 while his wife said nothing disparaging, although she 
 reserved her best words for Elliot Darrow, whom she had 
 liked from the first meeting after the families had settled 
 in the Vinland Valley. 
 
 Colonel Penwin looked after the young people can 
 tering away across the prairies in the cold, late afternoon 
 light. 
 
 " If I can get that settled," he muttered, " I '11 risk the
 
 216 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 others. Beth will see to Lucy and Tarley if I don't. 
 Lucy is a capable girl, and we'll have this Territory 
 going right by the middle of June, anyhow. It 's got to 
 be as I want, if I have to kill every Abolitionist in this 
 valley. I 'd be doing a nation-wide service if I did." 
 
 Craig and Beth galloped along the Trail until they 
 reached the road leading to Lamonds' claim. 
 
 "Let's go up on the bluff a minute and see how the 
 valley looks in the winter time," Craig said. " Do you 
 remember how peaceful and sleepy it looked last Octo 
 ber?" 
 
 Beth remembered that, and afterward, but she said 
 nothing except to assent to the suggestion. The snow 
 was deep in the wooded spaces. Out on the bluff by the 
 fallen log the ground was swept bare. They reined in at 
 the shelter of the evergreens and looked out over the val 
 ley, full of a cold sunset light. A typical winter snow- 
 scene was before them, pale and dainty in its coloring, 
 with faint touches of heliotrope and silver here and there, 
 accented by the fine ebony tracing along the ravines, 
 while the pallid sky above was sloping down to scarlet 
 and purple in the cold west. 
 
 "A beautiful land," Beth murmured. "Craig, why 
 must all these fields be stained with blood before the 
 State is finally at peace?" 
 
 " They need not be if the fanatics on both sides were 
 out of the way. But they are not. Such men as stopped 
 you and Mrs. Wren, for instance, Beth, are not like the 
 Southern people I have always known." 
 
 " Oh, Craig, I shall never cease to be grateful to you. 
 I hope I may some time show you how much I thank 
 you." 
 
 Pluto and the red roan were standing side by side, and
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 217 
 
 Craig leaned forward a little toward the girl as he said, 
 earnestly : 
 
 " I hope I may always deserve your good will, but I 
 would n't want to think it was just a matter of obligation 
 on your part. And I hope I may always be where I can 
 do you a service if you need me." 
 
 " You are very kind," she said, with such frank sim 
 plicity in her smile and tone that the young man knew 
 she was putting the most matter-of-fact construction on 
 his words. 
 
 " Oh, I don't try to pay any pretty compliments," he 
 said, with a new meaning in his tone. 
 
 If Beth noted it she gave no sign, but, urging her horse 
 to the edge of the bluff, she pointed down the Trail. 
 
 "Who comes yonder?" she asked, as she saw a figure 
 moving up the slope between the ravine and the hidden 
 way of the Trail. 
 
 " That 's a white horse," Craig said. " I can't tell from 
 this distance who the rider is, but it is Darrow's horse, 
 and if it is Elliot riding it he can tell who we are, for he 
 has the longest range of vision of any person I ever saw." 
 
 Beth did not look at Craig so frankly now, but kept 
 her eyes on the horseman, while a deeper pink swept her 
 cheeks. Her full red lips closed tightly and her definite 
 chin gave hint to Craig that he who would win this girl 
 must count on something beside soft, flattering words. 
 But conquest meant a prize worth all it cost, and he set 
 his even lips together in sign, with Craig Penwin, of a 
 purpose unchangeable. 
 
 "We need not wait for him," Beth said, and turned 
 to face the woods. 
 
 "Where's he been hanging about while you came on 
 to our house? " Craig could not keep back the question.
 
 218 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Elliot? Oh, I don't know. He was at home when I 
 left Darrows'." 
 
 Craig looked curiously at her. " She can lie gracefully, 
 anyhow," was his mental comment. 
 
 In the woods they came face to face with John Brown, 
 who greeted them as passing strangers. 
 
 "Do you know him?" Beth asked. 
 
 "Yes. He's the man who sentenced us each to ten 
 years of trouble up here last October," Craig replied. 
 
 "Oh, the man who said that about the horses mean 
 ing something. A black horse for power, and a red roan 
 for bloodshed. I guess the white one for peace, with us, 
 is down in the valley," Beth said gaily. 
 
 Craig did not smile, as he said coldly: 
 
 " Where the white horse, or the one who wears a white 
 feather, will always be, out of the way of harm to him 
 self." 
 
 But Beth gave no heed to his word. 
 
 " That 's the man who had to be shown to Nethercotes* 
 as I came over here. Mark went with him, leaving 
 me to go on alone to your house. Because I didn't 
 have to be shown," she added, with a roguish twinkle in 
 her eye. 
 
 "Mark! Hm! she's adroit," Craig thought, but aloud 
 he said: "He's the Captain of the Free-State militia 
 organized in the recent War of the Roses, or of the 
 Wakarusa. There '11 be no white horse nor dove of peace 
 wherever he pitches his camp. Now remember what I Ve 
 said." There was a ring of prophecy in Craig's voice. 
 
 " Well, let 's hurry home to avoid a battle." Beth gave 
 Pluto a touch with her riding whip and they hurried on 
 their way. 
 
 At the Lamond door Craig said, "Beth, may I come 
 over some evening soon? It is mighty lonely out here
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 219 
 
 this winter. Or is your father real set against us younger 
 fellows?" 
 
 "You will be very welcome, I am sure. You should 
 hear how kindly my father speaks of you always, before 
 you ask such questions," Beth said, smilingly, and 'bade 
 him good-by. 
 
 " Just in time, daughter," David Lamond greeted Beth 
 when she came in. " Mother wants to ride Pluto over 
 to Nethercotes' to stay all night. The baby is worse 
 again." 
 
 " Count on mother if there is anybody needing help," 
 Beth said. "And by the way, papa, that John Brown 
 came along as Mark Darrow and I were going to Pen- 
 wins', and Mark left me to show him the crooked trail 
 round the shoulder of the bluff to Nethercotes'. We saw 
 him, I mean Mr. Brown, as we came home." 
 
 "Who is 'we' ?" her father asked. 
 
 Beth blushed a little as she answered. " Oh, Colonel 
 Boniface, Junior, came home with me, although I insisted 
 there was no ugly ravine rilled with ruffians between here 
 and Penwins'." 
 
 Lamond frowned at her light tone. 
 
 " Don't say ' Boniface Junior,' Beth, he said. " There 
 is little in common between that father and son. Craig 
 is a brave, manly fellow, and I do not like to hear you 
 speak lightly of what he did for you. I know young 
 men who would not have had the courage to face four 
 desperate men. There are young fellows who make a 
 fine appearance, but who disappear when danger 
 threatens. We had such in Lawrence last December." 
 
 At this point Patty Wren came hurrying in. 
 
 " Cokey made me do it," she declared. " He 's goin* 
 up to Merrifords' to stay a few days with Mis' Merriford 
 an' the children while Lawyer Merriford 's gone. I
 
 220 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 wanted to stay over in our own roostin' place, but he 
 just made me come over here." And Patty dumped a 
 budget, neatly tied up, on the floor beside her. 
 
 " There 's my clean pocket handkercher, and the dom 
 ino blocks, an' some corn to pop, an' my tattin', an' 
 thread, an' shuttle, an' some good hickory nuts. Some 
 body sent them to the Darrows with the H cosier family 
 that moved out in November. Elliot brought some of 
 them over to us this afternoon. Bless his heart. If he 
 ain't the salt of the earth it don't need no saltin'." 
 
 Beth noted that her father, so loud in his praise of 
 Craig a few minutes before, said nothing now. And 
 Patty ran on: 
 
 "The Good Bein' didn't see fit to give Cokey an' me 
 no children of our own ; but ef I was sortin' 'em out my 
 self, an' had the pickin' of the lot, I think I 'd a' taken 
 Elliot Darrow first." 
 
 "You'd need to stiffen up his backbone a bit, I'm 
 afraid," the Scotchman said, sadly. " He lacks what his 
 country needs courage." 
 
 Beth looked at her father as he said this, but the kind- 
 hearted Scotchman turned away that he might not see 
 the pain his words gave to her, and that she should not 
 see the sorrow in his own face. 
 
 " My blessed lassie ! " he murmured to himself. " All 
 the Lamonds have been tried and true. I will not have 
 her come to the place where she must blush for the weak 
 will of husband and sons. For every Kansas man will 
 be tried in the fire until we are free, and Elliot Darrow 
 must stand up in this wall of men. or wear the craven's 
 mark of cowardice. And yet, how winning and manly 
 the boy seems. If he were n't a Quaker, and a coward at 
 heart, I could rejoice in him." 
 
 Patty was settled in the Lamond home for a brief stay.
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 221 
 
 She helped with the housework, of course ; she made her 
 tatting shuttle fly, while she told stories of old New 
 England. She popped ^orn and cracked nuts; she read 
 the bible and sang old, old hymns, and recited Felicia 
 Hemans and Cowper. She knew Coleridge's "Ancient 
 Mariner" from memory; and she told how Coke de 
 clared the coat of arms of the old Wren family had this 
 same white sea-bird on a field of blue-green like the sea. 
 The kind-hearted Wrens were Yankee-shrewd in their 
 calculating, and Patty insisted on turning the equivalent 
 and a little more of food that she and Coke saved while 
 they were sponging on their friends, as she called it, 
 from their own store into Mrs. Lamond's hands for the 
 hungry settlers in the Vinland Valley, where, as in the 
 days of Hiawatha's Famine, 
 
 All the earth was sick and famished; 
 Hungry was the air around them, 
 Hungry was the sky above them, 
 And the hungry stars in heaven 
 Like the eyes of wolves glared at them. 
 
 And this, with winter's cold and sickness, was a part 
 of the great sacrifice in those days of winning freedom 
 for a State. 
 
 Meanwhile, Coke Wren was up in Lawrence, called 
 there, he told Mrs. Merriford, by a letter from Winthrop, 
 who would feel safer to have a man about to look after 
 his affairs now and then while he was away. 
 
 "Winthrop wrote to me to have you and Patty stay 
 here all the time, until he gets home," Emily Merriford 
 said. 
 
 "Well, he said somethin' that way to me, too. But 
 Patty thought she'd maybe help a little down Palmyra 
 way. They're awful needy down there. An' sick don't 
 tell it, I see Doc Robinson or that St. Felix doctor often
 
 222 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 scootin* 'crost the perairies for some lone cabin. Mis' 
 Merriford, the Good Bein's chief Recordin' Clerk's got 
 a winter's job just settin' down the record o' grit and 
 courage an* everlastin' endurance the women of this Ter 
 ritory 's givin' to help their men what's here to defend 
 the eternal right of mankind to secure the blessin's of lib 
 erty to theirselves and their posterity. As the Consti 
 tution an' By-Laws of our glorious Nation goes on to 
 preamble King James' Version." 
 
 But while Coke's excuses were plausible enough, he 
 did not repeat the whole message he had received from 
 Merriford. The letter had been guardedly worded and 
 was plain and innocent to the eye. The writer had 
 counted, and not in vain, it proved, on the little Yan 
 kee's shrewdness in reading its hidden message. For 
 letters are treacherous things to let to wander about the 
 earth at will. 
 
 So Coke kept his counsel, except with Patty, who knew 
 by instinct, anyhow, he declared to her, and he counted 
 on her to set him right, even with the written orders 
 before him. He was vastly busy at nothing in particular 
 for days on days. True, the citizens did note that some 
 Delaware Indian was always coming into town from 
 the reservation across the Kaw. They did not remark 
 that it was always the same Indian, White Turkey. But 
 when a tall, fine looking Shawnee began to be seen in 
 Merriford's office lounging by the fire, there were some 
 who remembered him as the brave who had pledged the 
 Shawnees to the aid of Lawrence in the Wakarusa war. 
 
 "Taking out his pay in a warm place to loaf," the 
 citizens said. " Merriford's office is better than a half- 
 buried tepee." And then they forgot all about him. 
 
 Coke came to know the Indians very well. And be-
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 223 
 
 cause he was so honest-fibred they came gradually to 
 trust him. 
 
 " So you let young Darrow pack you home that night 
 you got shot," he said to White Turkey one day, "and 
 then told him you was out of your head and delirious 
 when you said you went down there to keep watch on 
 somebody that night. Well, I want to know. You're 
 worth adoptin' into the ranks all right, but you redskins 
 go at things so all-fired like dumb oysters." 
 
 White Turkey looked blankly impenetrable and said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Don't you know you could help a lot if you 'd open 
 up and tell what you know? " Coke urged. 
 
 41 Pale faces talk too much," the Indian said. " White 
 Turkey talk when talk counts," and he shut up for the 
 time, for Jupe came in at that moment. 
 " I 'se ready, Mars'r Wren," the negro said. 
 " Do you want this Injun to stay here? " Wren queried. 
 " Indian not want to stay," White Turkey declared, as 
 he stalked out of the office. 
 
 Wren closed the door left open by the Indian, and 
 turned to see Jupe lowering the blind to the one front 
 window. 
 
 "What for?" he asked. 
 
 "So's to git there quicker. Can't do nothin' with all 
 Lawrence gawkin' in here," the negro answered. 
 
 Then patiently and painfully there began for Jupe a 
 schooling in two of the three R's, a lesson he took daily 
 now. With Coke as a teacher, and with infinite zeal and 
 persistence, the negro labored to grasp the beginnings 
 of reading and writing. But it was a discouraging task. 
 The big body and the big, loyal soul had so little of 
 brain fibre for expression. The big fingers accustomed 
 to picking cotton, the big muscular strength that could
 
 224 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 hold the strongest man in Kansas at arms' length, could 
 not hold the little pencil and make it obey the little will. 
 With the power of a giant and the mind of a child, the 
 great fellow struggled with the harsh beginning of real 
 training for power. 
 
 "Talk about abolitin' us from slavery," he exclaimed. 
 " Mars'r Wren, when we 's all done aboluted, ef we ever 
 is, how's we ever gwine to git free in our own little 
 cocoanutty haids?" 
 
 "Just like ever' other race has had to git its mind 
 liberty, by bulldoggin' along an' never givin' up it's 
 books till it was master of itself. You ain't the first folks 
 in this world to come out of your soul-darkness, nor you 
 won't be the last till the knowledge of the glory of the 
 Lord shall cover the earth, as the waters cover the sea." 
 
 " How 'd Mars'r Merriford know I 'se needin' some 
 body just like you all to help me out 'n my house o' bond 
 age? I never told him." 
 
 " No, Jupe, nor you don't need to tell him nothin', 
 'cause he 's a lawyer an' what he wants to know he '11 
 find out anyhow ; but you '11 save a lot of time if you tell 
 him straight out what 's on your mind." 
 
 " Did Mars'r Merriford done write to you to give me 
 this here lift, you done givin' me now?" Jupe asked, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " No, he did n't say a word about it. I found out you 
 needed it. He told me he knowed you wanted it even 
 if you hadn't never said it, and havin' the time to burn 
 this onery winter weather, I could help you some, and 
 you can help Merriford if you will," Coke repeated. 
 
 " I don't das' tell I 'm nearder out o' bondage. 'Tain't 
 cause I 'm feared. Hit 's count of him his own self. Hit 
 is so." 
 
 The two worked on for a long hour. Jupe was making
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 225 
 
 progress, it is true, but only slowly, and Coke, with all 
 good-will, was not a finished educator. But the patient 
 zeal of the big scholar and the sympathy and kindness 
 of the little teacher brought to each a measure of reward 
 by slow degrees. 
 
 At the close of the hour Jupe asked innocently. 
 
 "Say, Mars'r Wren, did you ever find the gun what 
 had that bullet you taken and give to Mars'r Merriford 
 here one day last fall?" 
 
 Coke was on the alert, but he drawled carelessly. 
 
 " I want to know. Did Merriford show you that bul 
 let?" 
 
 " No. He throwed hit away," Jupe replied. 
 
 Coke looked out of the side window. 
 
 " Snowin* agin, golly ! Great Kansas ! Sunny climate ! 
 mild, temperate winters! Bammy springtimes! That's 
 what the real estate poster said, I read back in Boston 
 last spring. But I hain't a' goin' back." 
 
 Coke did not see the shrewd gleam in Jupe's eye, for 
 he was still looking out at the falling snow. 
 
 " Oh, hit won't snow forever. You '11 be pickin' wild 
 flowers, an' gwine fishin' 'fore ye know it," the negro 
 said, turning his back on the Yankee as he stood at the 
 other side window. 
 
 " Fishin' ! Well, I reckon I will be. Wish I could go 
 to-morrow," Coke exclaimed. 
 
 " Where do you fish down your way ? " Jupe asked. 
 "In the Wak'roosy?" 
 
 " Most too fur off. I don't know where we would go. 
 It 's a good ways over to Ottawa Crick or the Marais des 
 Cygnes," Coke answered, as he whistled meditatively. 
 
 "Lemme show you where." Jupe was standing by 
 Merriford's desk laboriously scratching on his old slate
 
 226 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 with a slate pencil. "I must be gwine now. Will you 
 help me write a letter to Mars'r Merriford to-morrow?" 
 
 "Yes, to-morrow," Wren replied, and Jupe went into 
 the house. 
 
 The Yankee, by chance, glanced at the slate as he was 
 putting away the evidences of the day's lesson. Scrawled 
 on it in rude form he read : 
 
 "the O in the rok." 
 
 He had forgotten why Jupe had put it there, but inter 
 ested in the negro's progress, he held the slate in his hand 
 and tried to recall the conversation. Then he sat down 
 and carefully scrutinized the slate again. 
 
 "Yes," he said, softly. "In the springtime, gentle 
 Annie, I '11 go fishin' at the Hole in the Rock. But what 
 will be my bait? And what am I to catch? Golly! I'll 
 toil all night even if I catch nothin' at this Hole in the 
 Rock." 
 
 He erased the words from the slate and as he turned 
 to put it away he caught sight of Jupe outside the office 
 window. 
 
 "You big, innocent animal! Ef you get over your 
 superstition and crazy notions and let us know, we'd 
 help you. Maybe. But maybe not, neither. Better trust 
 that it's all right as it is, I guess," and Coke also went 
 into the house. 
 
 With much effort of cramped fingers and burdensome 
 thinking, Jupe worked out his letter at the next day's 
 lesson. When it was done the teacher looked at his 
 pupil shrewdly. 
 
 "You're learnin', Jupiter Pluvius, you're learnin*. 
 You 're 'most a lawyer now. You say so much and know 
 so little." 
 
 " My name ain't Jupiter Pluzus, er what you called me. 
 Hit's Jupiter P. Roxbury, sah, formerly of Atlanta,
 
 JUPE'S BONDAGE 227 
 
 Georgia, sah," and Jupe made a sweeping bow of mock 
 courtesy. 
 
 What Coke had read in the letter bore witness to Law 
 yer Merriford, when he read it in Boston a week later, 
 that Jupe deserved Coke's compliment of saying so much 
 when he knew so little. And a hope and a dread strug 
 gled within the reader's mind as he thought of Jupe's 
 full emancipation from his mental bondage. 
 
 Merriford read and pondered long over what Jupe had 
 set down with Coke's help. Recalling all Doctor St. 
 Felix had said the day he left Lawrence, be believed he 
 was at last getting a hold on the negro in spite of his 
 bonds. The writing, with much flourish and straggling 
 of letters and words off into lonely corners, ran as fol 
 lows: 
 
 / 
 
 I is comin* on slow, but I hain't none givin' up. I stands by 
 my word. I help Mis' an the little girls. An' I keeps STILL. 
 Do your bestest, an* wait. Mr. Wren he goin' fishin' when hit 
 hain't snowin'. Hit will be warmer an' needn't go south. 
 Hit 's all here when I gits free out o' my bonds. You not find 
 hit no place else but come home to Kansas. The sun is risin' 
 every day always hit will be light. Godalemity bless you all. 
 
 J. P. ROXBURY. 
 
 With obligm' to C. W. I do not break no promise.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 FIRESIDE FOES 
 
 It is hard to walk on with what fate may have sent 
 For your company hunger and doubt and unrest, 
 And yet keep the heart steady that beats in your 
 breast 
 
 CRAIG availed himself of Beth's permission to call in 
 the lonely winter evenings, nor did he fail to make 
 his visits agreeable, and to receive a cordial invitation 
 from David Lamond to come again. The fair-minded 
 Scotchman was too just to hold a grudge against the 
 young man because of his father's views. Craig had res 
 cued his daughter from insult and peril, and had said 
 frankly but quietly, "I would not lift my hand against 
 a Free-State man unless I had other cause," although he 
 did not repudiate his own privilege to a pro-slavery 
 belief. 
 
 " The young man is honest with all of us, independent 
 in his views, well-bred, unassuming, and courageous. 
 Somehow, I have faith in him that when the test comes 
 he will run well to good metal." So Mr. Lamond ad 
 vised with his wife one evening, as the two chatted 
 together by the kitchen fire. 
 
 Beth and Craig were playing chess in the living-room, 
 and their voices in lively chatter came to the ears of 
 the older people. 
 
 Mrs. Lamond did not respond to her husband's expres 
 sion. She knew, indeed, he had spoken truly of Craig, 
 but she was a shrewd woman who could keep her own 
 
 228
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 229 
 
 counsel. And she knew that, added to all that he had 
 said, Craig Penwin was finding favor because David 
 Lamond in his heart was trying to justify his opposition 
 to Elliot Darrow. 
 
 " The best husband that ever lived, the kindest father, 
 the lovingest, truest man," Mrs. Lamond said to herself. 
 "But that stubborn Scotch nature that, once set, is un 
 changeable, that stern notion of courage and loyalty, 
 and, deep down, that wonderful love for his own child, 
 that makes him cling to her, nor want to give her up 
 to anybody, he doesn't reckon with all these, and it's 
 no use for me to try to show him. I'll trust the Lord 
 and let matters take their course. But," she added, with 
 a triumphant smile, "his will has always been supreme 
 here a good will, of course and he hasn't counted 
 on Beth who's got a chin built just like her father's, 
 and a mouth every bit as firm. It will be a pretty fight 
 when the day of reckoning with her comes. But they 
 love each other, and back of all of us is the loving Father. 
 I guess there '11 be no serious disaster." 
 
 When the game was done, Beth sat down on the com 
 fortable settle and began to chat of commonplace things. 
 And Craig now proved how quickly he could make an 
 evening pass. The tall old clock, brought from Pennsyl 
 vania with much care, struck off the hour of ten. 
 
 "I must be going. I did not know it was so late. 
 I am so glad you live in Kansas, Beth," Craig said, 
 jokingly. 
 
 "It is convenient," Beth replied, "for if I lived in 
 Pennsylvania or Indiana " 
 
 "Oh, don't mention Indiana," Craig cried, in disgust. 
 "Such a set of weaklings live there. You'd never fit 
 into the place."
 
 230 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "I don't know." Beth's eyes had a mischievous light 
 in them. " I 'd as soon live there as in Georgia." 
 
 Craig's eyes flashed fire, but Beth was busy pushing 
 the burning wood into a closer heap on the hearth, and 
 when she looked up, Craig's face was fine to see. 
 
 "Kansas suits us best of all, doesn't it?" he asked, 
 gently. 
 
 "It suits me all right, and if it does you, we have no 
 quarrel," Beth said, lightly. 
 
 "Shall we ever have a quarrel, Elizabeth?" 
 
 Truly, the voice was wonderful to hear when he pro 
 nounced that name, and with the question Craig came 
 around the table, where the chess men lay scattered, 
 and stood beside her whose name he uttered as he did 
 no other name in all the world. 
 
 "Shall you and I ever quarrel in earnest?" 
 
 "I think it quite likely," Beth replied, smiling at him 
 teasingly. "I am pretty stubborn, like my daddy, and 
 we shall probably get beyond speaking on some pro or 
 anti clause in the State constitution soon enough." 
 
 "Elizabeth" he caught her hand "whatever hap 
 pens to the State of Kansas, believe me, I have no part 
 in all this warfare. I am Craig Penwin, alone, not 
 Colonel Boniface Penwin's son." 
 
 There was a proud look in his eyes and a strength in 
 his tone, but back of it lay an infinite pleading Beth 
 could not fail to see. 
 
 " Good-night," she said, gently shaking his hand, as if 
 that was why he held hers. "Good-night, Craig Pen- 
 win. You may be just that to me. I'm not ready to 
 quarrel." 
 
 "May I come again soon maybe to-morrow night? 
 I want to talk to you of some things, Beth, please!" 
 He bent over her and held her hand firmly.
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 231 
 
 "Let me see" Beth hesitated playfully "I have so 
 many engagements ahead, I can't be sure until I consult 
 my calendar. No, I don't think you can come. So many 
 others in this dizzy social time want my company." 
 
 " I 'm coming anyhow," Craig said, firmly. " There is 
 only one other person." 
 
 " Well, go call on her, if there is ; " and Beth started to 
 the door. 
 
 "I mean only one other young man " 
 
 "How magnanimous!" Beth exclaimed. "I didn't 
 know you would admit there were that many," and with 
 laughing good-nights, they separated. 
 
 Craig had not reached the main Trail before he be 
 came aware of some one following him. 
 
 " It must be my father," he said to himself. " What is 
 the real secret of his interest? Can it be all love for 
 me? Dear papa. Dear papa." 
 
 He recalled in sadness the days when his father had 
 been his idol. Few sorrows are equal to the sorrow that 
 comes with loss of faith and respect when a father or 
 mother are found wanting. 
 
 Craig stalked on gloomily for some distance. Then 
 he suddenly stopped. He was in the shadow of the 
 wood that hid the main Trail from view of Lamond's 
 claim. 
 
 " I '11 have it out here with father," he declared. " He 
 shall not track me like a hound." 
 
 He stood still in the shelter of a bunch of low ever 
 greens. The figure behind him came forward cautiously 
 and, before Craig was aware, had spied him out. Halt 
 ing beside a low tree, whose shadow scarcely concealed 
 him, he waited. 
 
 "Well?" Craig said, in a low voice, peering keenly at 
 the object he saw.
 
 232 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "You, Darrow?" came a deep voice in response. 
 
 At the same time Craig's eyes made out the outline 
 of the man, wrapped in an Indian blanket. 
 
 " No, you red Indian," he cried, scornfully. " Did you 
 expect to find Elliot Darrow spying on me back there? 
 You are on a level, you two, whoever you are." And 
 the young man started forward. 
 
 But the Indian was too swift for him. With a stride 
 he bounded beyond Craig, and, turning, faced him in 
 the Trail. 
 
 "Craig Penwin," he said, solemnly. "You wise fool. 
 You talk big talk. You hate Darrow. You let some 
 man kill him. You let him do it. Same as you do it 
 if you let it be done. You can not harm him. Some day 
 you lift hands, so." The Indian raised his hands in the 
 attitude of prayer. "You lift your hands to Darrow. 
 You beg him to spare your life. You dog. Now go 
 home. I've said truth." And like magic the red man 
 melted into the gray-black shadows of the wood. 
 
 In spite of his will to think otherwise, Craig could not 
 forget the Indiari's prophetic denouncement of himself, 
 and it made him hate Elliot more than ever. 
 
 "If the smooth-faced Quaker is playing the spy on 
 me, I'll pay him in good coin," he declared. "I hate 
 trickery and deceit, but if he means to undermine me in 
 that way, I'll come to it fast enough, I suppose. This 
 is the whole game with me now, and I 'm in to win. I '11 
 be fair to the fair. I did not vote to come to Kansas. I 
 was brought here. I'd go back to Georgia to-morrow, 
 only I know what 's there. My father's name under ban 
 for financial dealing of some kind. Everything went 
 wrong when Aunt Lucy died. If she only could have 
 lived! Oh!" 
 
 It was a pathetic sigh that followed, for it marked
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 233 
 
 the moment of passing of the old honorable way of life 
 for Craig, and the beginning, faint indeed, but neverthe 
 less the beginning, of a new way of winning by any 
 means, fair or foul. No moment in a career can be more 
 fraught with pathos than the one that notes the down 
 fall of high ideals. For Craig henceforth, the gentleman 
 must give place to the trickster. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Indian pushed on eastward until he 
 came to the Darrow homestead. A moment he paused 
 in the cedar clump outside. Then he rapped softly at 
 the kitchen door. Mark came to open it. 
 
 " White Turkey want shelter," he said. 
 
 " Why, hello, partner," the boy exclaimed. " Come in, 
 come in. Father, here's White Turkey; wants to stay 
 all night. Out after the man who shot you two months 
 ago? I hope you got him." 
 
 By the hall fire the Indian wanned himself and delib 
 erated before he spoke. 
 
 " Medicine Man St. Felix say at sunset you go to 
 morrow East." He looked at Hiram Darrow. 
 
 "Yes, I am called back to Indiana on some business. 
 I saw St. Felix in Palmyra to-day. Lamond and I came 
 part of the way home with him," Darrow said. 
 
 "Him go?" pointing to Elliot. 
 
 " No. He stays here with mother," and Hiram glanced 
 affectionately at his wife sitting in the shadows of the 
 chimney corner. " He will take care of the place till I 
 get back." 
 
 "Who take care of him?" the Indian asked. 
 
 " I '11 do that," Mark observed, gravely. 
 
 But the Indian only frowned. 
 
 "You say too big," he said, sternly. Then, turning 
 to the father, he went on : " Not safe go, not safe stay. 
 Let him go."
 
 234 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "I did want him to," Hiram said, smiling, "but he 
 thinks he could do more here." 
 
 "Him can, maybe. Big danger here. Little danger 
 go." White Turkey's face was expressionless, as usual. 
 "Westport to St. Louis not safe. All Wakarusa 
 worse ; " and he waved his hand to take in the whole 
 Vinland Valley. 
 
 "Ellie's got personal property as well as real estate 
 to look after here." Mark was irrepressible. 
 
 White Turkey nodded gravely, but added : " Him need 
 this." He drew out a big tomahawk from beneath his 
 blanket. "White woman need this." He dropped the 
 weapon, and lifted his hands as in prayer. 
 
 " We all need prayer," Hiram Darrow said, reverently, 
 "and we Quakers believe it is stronger than the toma 
 hawk to defend us from our enemies. Our strength 
 cometh from the Lord." 
 
 The Indian looked curiously at Darrow as he said 
 this. Little removed from the savage himself, with all 
 the teachings of the wild border strife to show him the 
 white man's way, this clear-eyed, fearless man seemed 
 not to belong within his comprehension of human beings. 
 Then he looked across to where Isabel Darrow sat. 
 How unlike she was to the squalid squaws of the savage 
 wigwams, or the poverty-stricken, and too often terror- 
 stricken, women in the pitiful pioneer homes on the bor 
 der. Isabel wore the Quaker dress of the olden time. 
 About her neck and lying in soft folds over her bosom 
 was a spotless white lawn kerchief. Above it was her 
 smooth, white throat- and above that her peaceful, beau 
 tiful face, framed in a mass of smooth, soft, dark hair 
 lying in curving lines about her brow. Elliot was stand 
 ing behind her chair, ready to bid her good-night. White 
 Turkey looked at the two, then crossing his hands, he
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 235 
 
 .mumbled in the Delaware language some words they 
 could not understand. But they knew instinctively it 
 was an Indian's blessing. 
 
 For a third time White Turkey became a guest in the 
 warm shelter of this Quaker home, but at daybreak the 
 next morning he was off for the Reservation beyond the 
 Kaw River. Hiram Darrow and his son counselled long 
 over the proposed journey, but in the end it was the 
 father who went away, leaving the son to what the 
 Delaware had warned them was the greater danger. Yet 
 all of this that was known to their good neighbor 
 Lamond was the opinion of Dr. St. Felix. 
 
 In Lamond's presence St. Felix had urged that it was 
 a perilous journey at this time for a man who would 
 never conceal his abolition notions. And Darrow had 
 suggested then that he might send his son in his stead. 
 
 So another mark was sorrowfully set against the young 
 man whose good qualities and magnetic personality were 
 always appealing to the sturdy Scotchman. 
 
 Craig did call on Beth the next evening as he declared 
 he would. But she was not at home. Neither was her 
 mother. So Craig and Lamond spent the evening 
 together without them. It seemed an opportune thing 
 for Craig. Every day since his conference with his 
 father he had grown in the determination to carry out 
 his father's wishes and his growing life-purpose. Strong 
 as was the influence Beth held over him in itself, the 
 conditions of his future demanded her to make his life 
 successful. In his keen intelligence he had noted day 
 after day, throughout the fall and winter, the real char 
 acter of his father. 
 
 Beth should tie his father's son to the life that he 
 wished to lead. With her was respectability and honor, 
 and love, and home. In his loneliness, he had grown
 
 236 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 selfish as he would not have done in his childhood home. 
 But his admiration and affection lor the beautiful, capa 
 ble girl were deep and genuine. He realized daily how 
 essential she was to him and he resolved to move swiftly 
 toward the conclusion of his purpose. 
 
 It was fortunate for Craig that he had chosen this par 
 ticular evening for speaking to Beth's father. Hiram 
 Darrow had met Lamond on his way to Palmyra and 
 had bade him good-by with the request that he might 
 keep an eye on the Darrow family while the father was 
 away. 
 
 " I'll not be gone long, and the boys are pretty good 
 frontiersmen, but I'll feel safer to know thee is near 
 the family," Hiram had said. 
 
 "I'd feel safer if you were here, but I'll be glad to 
 do all I can," Lamond had replied, as he gave a sad 
 good-by, and, sick at heart, went on his own way. 
 
 " Mr. Lamond," Craig began, as the evening was pass 
 ing, "I want to say something to you in confidence." 
 
 He looked up fearlessly into the older man's face, and 
 there was no reason to be ashamed of the confidences of 
 such a young man as sat before the fire that night. And 
 yet a shaft of pain shot through the Scotchman's mind 
 at the words. He could not have told why. But he 
 answered cordially: 
 
 " I shall keep sacred what you say." 
 
 Craig looked into the heart of the burning coals a 
 while before he went on. 
 
 "I have never tried to conceal the fact that I am a 
 Southerner. It is a part of my inheritance from a long 
 line of Penwins to think slavery may be a blessing as 
 well as a curse. Every institution may be abused and 
 disgraced. I myself know little of that side of slavery. 
 My father had one big negro whom he sold but that 's
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 237 
 
 no matter now. I cannot help thinking of the happy 
 black folks and feeling they are safer than if they were 
 free. I may not always think so." 
 
 That was a more adroit remark than Craig had calcu 
 lated, for it gave his listener a sort of justification of his 
 own hope and motive. 
 
 " But, Mr. Lamond, when you talk of the South and the 
 North, may I say I am here in Kansas, which is neither 
 south nor north, and I am for neither one against the 
 other, but for the flag of our one country above them 
 both." 
 
 The slender, fine-faced young Southerner was good 
 to look upon as he made this declaration, and no other 
 sentence could have been framed just then that could 
 have gone so far to win his cause with the father of the 
 girl he loved. 
 
 "Craig, my boy, you are on the right track," his host 
 said, heartily. " I understand your Southern heritage 
 just as I know my own love for the old headland of Ard- 
 Lamond in Scotland. Dear to me are the old Scotch 
 words and ways. You may have noticed how much my 
 little girl wears the gray and purple and silver plaids. 
 She does it for her father, because they talk to me of 
 the old clan and old traditions." 
 
 "And they are wonderfully becoming to her as well," 
 Craig murmured. 
 
 "But with all my love for Scotland, I stand for the 
 red, white, and blue of the American flag." Lamond 
 grasped Craig's hand as he said this. 
 
 Did the same memory come to both in that moment, 
 the echo of the inspiring words: 
 
 May the wreaths they have won never wither, 
 Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave?
 
 238 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Craig did not wait for memory to play any part with 
 either one. 
 
 "Mr. Lamond, it is a hard thing for a son to turn 
 against a father, as you know it would be for a daughter 
 to turn against her mother." Lamond's grave face 
 wore a shadow of pain at the words. 
 
 " I have hoped, and still hope, not to do it, but I have 
 come to the parting of the ways with my father. Hence 
 forth, he will think and act according to his own views 
 and I will do the same. Our views and actions may be 
 widely separated. I hope not, but they may be." 
 
 There was a hesitancy and a manliness, the best part 
 of Craig Penwin, in this speech, and it won its way to 
 the fatherly heart of David Lamond. 
 
 " They say the Spring will see a renewing of troubles 
 here. You will not blame me if I keep as clear of it as 
 I can. But where human justice and human needs are 
 concerned, I hope to do my part fearlessly. They will 
 not all be brought about by our people, either, Mr. 
 Lamond. Not all Northern men are brave and humane 
 as yourself, and Lawyer Merriford and John Speer, up 
 in Lawrence. 
 
 " No, not all," Lamond agreed, sadly. " I am rejoiced 
 to hear you declare yourself, Craig. It is a great thing 
 to stand solidly somewhere. I'd rather fight an open 
 foe than to play at peace with a weak-willed, cowardly 
 friend." 
 
 Craig's face showed quickly how well he understood, 
 but bis good judgment kept him from speaking further 
 just then. 
 
 Awhile they sat in silence. Then Craig spoke, and 
 his fervor and earnestness left no place for doubt in his 
 hearer's mind. 
 
 *' Mr. Lamond, I want to say something that may not
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 239 
 
 please you. But I come to you first, determined to let 
 it rest there if it is your pleasure." 
 
 There must be something in a fine inheritance of mind, 
 else Craig could not have moved so easily on his course 
 to-night. 
 
 "Your daughter, Elizabeth" how full of grace he 
 made that name ! " has come to mean more to me than 
 anybody else ever did or ever can. I have not said a 
 word to her. I don't know her mind at all, for she is 
 too womanly to let me know it in any event. I want 
 your permission to woo her, and heaven help me ! to 
 win her, if I can." 
 
 Lamond could not see beyond those words, "heaven 
 help me," to the cunning power and cruelty of Boni 
 face Penwin, whose help without the aid of heaven 
 would be given to this cause. He could not know how 
 earnestly Craig wished for a heaven-willed victory, nor 
 how back of that was the grim determination that vic 
 tory should be his, nor heaven, nor any other power 
 should rob him of it. 
 
 "I have one more thing to say," Craig added, only 
 half conscious that it was his winning card. "It came 
 to me to help to protect Elizabeth from a crowd of half- 
 drunken ruffians. Any man any true man would 
 have done the same. I claim no return for doing my 
 duty. I want to be found worthy in myself, not for 
 what chance may favor in me. May I try to win your 
 daughter, David Lamond?" 
 
 He stood up before the older man, his fine, sensitive 
 face glowing with the best inspiration that the young 
 years of a life can know. He had been true and fair and 
 frank. In himself there was everything worthy. And 
 David Lamond, honest, kind-hearted, and just, was too 
 true to himself to deny what he had no right to refuse.
 
 240 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " You have my permission to try," he replied, slowly. 
 " And so long as you are the same that you are to-night, 
 you have my good wishes. Only take time. Don't be in 
 such a hurry as to force matters. You are both young. 
 You can wait." 
 
 Over in the Darrow cabin that night, Elliot and his 
 mother sat late together. What the children lacked in 
 school opportunities in the West, their mother went 
 far in supplying. She had been trained in college her 
 self and she knew the value of ideals in a life struggle. 
 To-night she had been reading poetry to her sons. When 
 Mark and Joe were asleep, Elliot and his mother fell 
 into that confidential mood that, between mother and 
 son, should never be outgrown. They talked of many 
 things, arriving at last to the boy's ftuure. 
 
 " What am I to be, mother? I must be about it soon," 
 he said. 
 
 "Yes, all too soon," his mother replied. "What is 
 thy own wish? What most pleases thee in doing it? " 
 
 "I want, some time, to be a doctor of medicine. It 
 seems to me that Dr. Robinson and Dr. St. Felix do 
 more good than any other two men in Kansas. 
 St. Felix leaves everything alone except his medical 
 practice. Yet I know he is a Pro-Slavery man/' 
 
 "Would thee like to study medicine with him? Or 
 with Dr. Robinson?" Isabel asked. 
 
 "I think I should like St. Felix best," Elliot replied. 
 
 Isabel sat meditating for a little while. Then she 
 said, gently: 
 
 "Maybe his daughter would be some attraction to 
 thee. She is a winsome, lovable girl." 
 
 Elliot did not respond to this at once, but sat look 
 ing thoughtfully before him. He could not know, for 
 only mothers can know what this hour of renunciation
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 241 
 
 means to the mother with her son. And Isabel Dar- 
 row was going bravely through its moments, knowing 
 well that at its close she should rise up rejoicing in 
 victory. 
 
 " Mother, mine " Elliot had turned to her now, and 
 that smile of genial out-giving, good-will, and confidence 
 illumined his face "I want to tell thee something 
 to-night." 
 
 " Yes, dear," she smiled back at him. 
 
 He took her hand and caressed it gently. When he 
 spoke, at length, his voice was so deep and sweet, and 
 yet so powerful, it startled her who thought she knew 
 her boy in all his moods. 
 
 " I shall never be interested in little Rosalind St. Felix, 
 because I have already found what fills my mind too 
 full to let her in even if she wished to come in," he 
 added, smiling again. 
 
 "Yes, Beth," Isabel said. 
 
 "Yes, Beth," Elliot responded. 
 
 "Thee is young. There will come others before the 
 time for thee to settle definitely." She did not say 
 what she could not help but believe, that her boy would 
 find favor with women in his manhood years beyond 
 the favor shown to most men. 
 
 " I know what I want now." There was no doubting 
 him. 
 
 "I believe thee does," his mother said. "Does Beth 
 know what she wants?" 
 
 "I don't know," Elliot answered. 
 
 "Then find out," Isabel advised. 
 
 " I have found out one thing already. David Lamond 
 does not like me because he thinks I'm not only not 
 eager to be a soldier, he thinks that I am a coward." 
 
 "Has thee given him cause to think so?"
 
 242 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "Not intentionally. Some circumstances I could not 
 prevent point him to thinking so, and he keeps on in 
 the belief," Elliot said. 
 
 "What will thee do?" his mother inquired. 
 
 "Let him think what he chooses until he learns bet 
 ter," Elliot answered. 
 
 "And give up Beth?" Isabel's voice was not quite 
 even as she asked the question. 
 
 Elliot rose to his feet. Broad and firm-built, young, 
 handsome, intelligent, strong in his conscious power, 
 poised, and withal gentle and genial in spirit, it was 
 no mean rival with whom Craig Penwin had to cope. 
 
 "No, I will not give up Beth," he said, in a man's 
 deep voice of power. " She may give me up. But it 
 must rest with her, not with her father; and, as to my 
 courage or lack of it, mother, I do not play any cheap 
 parts for mere show. I can wait for my real test to 
 come. And when it does come, if I am not worthy, then 
 I deserve contempt. I shall live my life in my own 
 way, and settle at last," he spoke reverently now " for 
 reward or failure, with Him who gave it. Thee has 
 taught me wrongly all these years, if thee thinks I could 
 do otherwise." 
 
 Isabel rose and stood beside her son. She had won 
 her own battle. She felt in her soul that he would win 
 his greater conflict. 
 
 "The Lord bless thee and keep thee, the Lord be 
 gracious unto thee, the Lord make his countenance to 
 shine upon thee and give thee peace." She kissed his 
 forehead and bade him good-night. 
 
 And it was thus that two parents, Boniface Penwin 
 and Isabel Darrow, were, unknown to each other, send 
 ing forth their sons on the same mission. And the prize
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 243 
 
 to be gained at last was the love of a beautiful, noble- 
 hearted girl. 
 
 Early next morning, Elliot was off for a long, cold 
 ride to Lawrence. To a young man of his physique, 
 sleep came easily, and he had risen with that sense of 
 strength that refreshed nerves and rested muscles can 
 give. The ride in the cold winter air brought the warm 
 red blood bounding to the surface, and his cheeks were 
 brilliant and his dark eyes were sparkling when he 
 reached the office of Doctor St. Felix. 
 
 The physician grasped his big firm hand with the 
 joy of a man who would have all men well in body and 
 mind. 
 
 "You don't need me," he said, as he led the way 
 into his room at the Eldridge House. 
 
 " Nor me," Rosalind said, as she rose from her father's 
 desk, and came forward to greet the young man. " I 'm 
 papa's nurse, you know." 
 
 " I may need you both," Elliot said, smiling. Matter- 
 of-fact as the doctor was, he could not help glancing 
 curiously at his daughter, whose sunny face was never 
 so bright as when this new acquaintance was near. 
 
 " I came to talk with you about your profession ; and 
 yours" he turned to Rosalind. "My needs may be 
 many." 
 
 Then Elliot made known his errand, and father and 
 daughter listened with interest. 
 
 "I shall soon need help," the doctor said, "unless a 
 real war destroys this Territory entirely. I shall be glad 
 to consider you as a possibility." 
 
 "And you'll need me even if there is a war," Rosa 
 lind said, laughingly. "You'll stay for dinner, now, 
 won't you?" 
 Elliot stayed, and all the Eldridge House diners knew
 
 244 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 that the handsome young Quaker from the Palmyra 
 neighborhood was the guest of the St. Felixes. 
 
 On his way home he met Craig Penwin going up the 
 Trail. 
 
 "Hello, Craig," Elliot said. "Going to Lawrence? I 
 just left it waiting for you." 
 
 "Hello, Elliot," Craig responded, but said no more. 
 His business took him, also, to the office of Dr. 
 St. Felix, in, Lawrence, where he found Rosalind alone. 
 
 "Papa has gone to make some calls over among the 
 Delawares," she explained. "He's getting to be a big 
 medicine man for a few of the better class of Indians." 
 
 " He must be very busy," Craig said. 
 
 "He is. There is so much suffering this cold winter. 
 If the settlement increases there will be need of other 
 doctors here." 
 
 "That will be a hard need to meet, I believe," Craig 
 said. " More lawyers and real estate agents and cheap 
 politicians and general riff-raff come to the West each 
 month. But real useful men, like your father, and real 
 statesmen, and good citizens are scarce." 
 
 " I don't believe it," Rosalind differed, prettily enough. 
 " Of course, I think my papa is a good citizen, for he 
 just sticks to his business ; but I Ve been with him 
 everywhere out here, and not only in Lawrence, but 
 out in these lonely cabins, where settlers are sick and 
 poor, Mr. Penwin, there are the noblest men, all stanch 
 in their determination to make a fine State out of poor 
 Kansas." 
 
 "Nevertheless, they are not going to make doctors 
 to help your father while they are making a State," Craig 
 insisted. 
 
 "Well, I don't know about that," Rosalind replied. 
 " One pretty fine-looking young man was here this very
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 245 
 
 day, from down your way, too, who may begin the study 
 of medicine with papa soon." 
 
 " Who could he be ? " Craig questioned, in pretended 
 amazement. " I 've just come in." 
 
 " Oh, there are others down your way," Rosalind de 
 clared. "It was Mr. Elliot Darrow." 
 
 Two nights ago, Craig had opened the gates of his 
 soul to receive any means that should help him to win 
 his aim. And Temptation, forever lying in wait out 
 side our walls, rose up at once to enter in. Not with 
 out some little show of resistance, it is true. Natures 
 do not break without much bending. And Craig, as he 
 looked at little Rosalind St. Felix, felt a strong stab 
 of conscience. But Temptation, ever smooth and wily, 
 assured him it was but a momentary pain. 
 
 " Rosalind would worship Elliot any woman would, 
 for that matter," Craig had to confess to himself. 
 "And he would feel as I shall, when Beth worships me. 
 I'll do him a kindness, maybe." 
 
 Maybe? With only a faint glimpse of sorrow for 
 little Rosalind in the event of failing plans. That was 
 for her to consider. Poor Rosalind ! Aloud Craig said : 
 
 " Elliot Darrow is going to study medicine ? I know 
 one reason for it." He looked at the girl a moment, then 
 turned away, adding : " I don't blame him, Rosalind." 
 
 A blush swept over Rosalind's face, as she said: 
 
 "What makes you say that?" 
 
 "Oh, Darrow is a good fellow strong in his likes 
 and dislikes and he will generally get what he wants. 
 He may have a special interest in medicine." 
 
 Dr. St. Felix came in at this moment and Craig made 
 known his own errand. And all the while the daugh 
 ter's mind was full of the picture of the young Quaker 
 as he had looked that morning when he came in, brilliant
 
 246 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 with the coloring the crisp air gives, and the winning 
 smile, and the jesting words, "I may need you both." 
 Pity her that she put a new meaning here, because her 
 heart went with the meaning. 
 
 When Craig rose to leave, Dr. St. Felix said: 
 
 "I understand you, my boy, I understand. I know 
 conditions here, and back in Georgia as well." 
 
 Craig did not dream how much that last clause meant. 
 
 "If you find it necessary to hunt a new home, come 
 here. Young men without homes are no less safe in this 
 world than young women are. You are right in your 
 position of non-partisanship. In the end, slavery will 
 win here, I believe, but the struggle will be awful, be 
 cause there is an element of earnest manhood building 
 up this Territory that grows more invincible in its 
 defence with every hardship it has to meet. The South 
 will win only by numbers, wealth and brutality. Once 
 the victory is won, this will be a stately realm, with 
 the best Southern blood here. Only a little of it here 
 now." He smiled at Craig with this personal allusion 
 to his own family and the Penwins. " But before that 
 time, a wall of men, God help them ! the finest men I 
 have ever known must be battered down and strewn 
 in destruction on a blood-stained land." 
 
 Craig looked at him earnestly as he went on. 
 
 "There's John Speer, the editor; there are Lane and 
 Robinson, invincible and capable ; there 's Lawyer Merri- 
 ford, the real statesman; and that grand Scotch fighter, 
 Lamond ; and Captain John Brown, a man of strange and 
 terrible force beneath a plain, unassuming exterior; and 
 not the least of these, it may be nearer to the greatest, 
 is that firm-set, fearless, Godly man, that Quaker, Hiram 
 Darrow." 
 
 A throb of anguish pulsed through the young South-
 
 FIRESIDE FOES 247 
 
 erner, as he felt the shame that Boniface Penwin's name 
 could not be listed here. Then, beside a dead pride, he 
 laid down a dead ideal of honor, justifying the second 
 from the first. 
 
 "These men are types of the real body of settlers," 
 the doctor went on. " Knowing them as I do, Penwin, 
 you can understand why, Southerner that I am, and be 
 lieving slavery is not the curse they think it is, because 
 you and I have seen it at its best you can see why I am 
 non-partisan, and why I forecast a tragical story, before 
 there is another star sewed into the field of blue on our 
 flag, and another State is made out of these beautiful 
 prairies and fertile valleys." 
 
 When Craig bade Rosalind good-by, he gave her hand 
 a gentle pressure. 
 
 " Your father opens his doors to me, if I need a home, 
 Rosalind," he said. "I come as a brother, not as a 
 doctor." 
 
 She understood him, and in spite of her effort at 
 self-control, her sunny, expressive face gave ample token 
 of the thought behind it.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 SPRING WEATHER 
 
 When first I loved in the long ago, 
 And held your hand as I told you so- 
 Pressed and caressed it and gave it a kiss, 
 And said, " I could die for a hand like this ! " 
 Little I thought love's fulness yet 
 Had to ripen when eyes were wet. 
 
 James Whitcomb Riley. 
 
 ONE day the thin, bitter air of winter, that rasped 
 like saw-teeth, harried the earth with its grating 
 chill. The next day, as if -by magic, the balmy south 
 breeze came pouring over the land. Fair and far, the 
 spring sunshine brimmed the Kansas plains with a 
 flood of golden glory. The prairies took no time to 
 yawn and stretch themselves lazily in the sweet warmth 
 and light, but sprang into verdure at a bound. Every 
 little brown bud became a leaf, every close-shut ball an 
 expanding flower. Along the woodland way of the old 
 Santa Fe Trail the odors of moist air and fresh life- 
 giving earth mingled with, the sweet scent from every 
 blooming shrub and tree. Out on the open plains 
 
 The pen of a ready writer 
 
 With an artist's hand to guide the pen, 
 
 could never make the picture quite complete. The eve 
 ning primrose, the thistle poppy, the buffalo-pea, the 
 yonkopin by the water's edge, the cardinal bloom and 
 blue lobelia, the purple and cream and silver and ccar- 
 
 248
 
 SPRING WEATHER 249 
 
 let of a myriad blossoms, like an Aztec mantle, tinted all 
 the sunny prairies. Dawn and sunset and moonrise saw 
 the same old miracle of beauty, ever new and marvelous. 
 And golden light and soft spring rain brought anew their 
 time-old joy and refreshing; while far overhead, and 
 wide away to the uttermost limit, where things finite 
 melt and blend into things infinite, in gray cloud-mist 
 or fathomless blue ether, the heavens declared the glory 
 of God, and the firmament showed his handiwork. In 
 the Vinland Valley the land was especially fair, and the 
 settlers, relieved at last from the cold, and famine, and 
 fever, took hope anew in the bright, new, hopeful spring 
 time. And the stern, unbending spirit that had staid 
 them in the dreadful winter months, now strengthened 
 itself triumphantly in these kinder days. 
 
 The latter part of the cold season found Elliot Darrow 
 busy in his new purpose, giving all the time he could 
 to the study of medicine. He went often to Lawrence, 
 but not for extended visits. He saw much of Rosalind, 
 and found her a delightful friend, and especially com 
 panionable, because of her knowledge of her father's 
 profession. His acquaintance in Lawrence widened, and 
 the education that makes a man of affairs opened for 
 him. 
 
 Dr. St. Felix's appreciation of his pupil grew steadily. 
 And Rosalind! Her sunny nature expanded with 
 the days. And all the more were her associations pleas 
 ant because Elliot showed her frankly that he enjoyed 
 her friendship, without giving hint of thinking of any 
 thing more. Rosalind could have offered no reason for 
 her secret hope and anticipation, yet daily she was pic 
 turing the joy it must be to the woman who should win 
 Elliot Darrow to complete conquest. His genial man 
 ner made him a favorite with everybody. He had the
 
 250 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 gift, too, of not talking too much, yet he was fearlessly 
 outspoken if he chose to be. 
 
 He saw little of Craig in this time and only once 
 since his father went East had he seen Colonel Penwin. 
 That was on the afternoon of his first visit to Dr. St. 
 Felix's office. He had been thinking of Craig after the 
 two had met on the Trail, and in the confidence of youth 
 he had told himself that, courtly and dominant as the 
 fellow was, Craig Penwin had a surprise in store if he 
 thought he could outplay the Quaker boy in the game 
 that was pending. 
 
 Elliot was smiling triumphantly as he rode along, and 
 from Craig his mind ran on Craig's father, suggested 
 maybe by the recollection of the stormy night in the 
 ravine. He was near the ravine now, and, as his horse 
 cantered down the slope to the crossing by the Hole in 
 the Rock, somehow he was not surprised to come face 
 to face with Colonel Penwin. It was only a fulfillment 
 of his thought at the time. 
 
 "Good afternoon!" he said, politely, lifting his hat. 
 For Boniface Penwin inherently commanded recognition. 
 
 "Good afternoon, sir," Penwin replied. Then, as 
 Elliot would have passed on, he said, " May I have a 
 word with you? I want to settle some things at once." 
 
 A feeling nearest to fear that Elliot had known since 
 his boyhood possessed him, and his hand on the bridle 
 rein may have seemed unsteady, as he replied : 
 
 "Certainly;" and half turning on his horse, he faced 
 the colonel. 
 
 The impression gave Penwin his line for action. 
 
 "The boy is a coward. I'll fix him with one shot," 
 he said to himself, and he prepared to take aim. In a 
 voice that might well have awed an older man, he spoke : 
 
 " Darrowj you are a pretty good fellow in your place,
 
 SPRING WEATHER 251 
 
 but you don't always stay there. Now, I'm going to 
 be plain with you. And you must understand, I mean 
 what I say, and mean it here." 
 
 Elliot's hand was not trembling now, and his dark 
 eyes were fixed on the older man with an expression 
 hard to fathom. He had noted the intense feeling back 
 of the colonel's words. He noted, also, that the man was 
 armed with a heavy revolver, and inside his coat was 
 the gleam of a half-hidden knife. He had no notion of 
 Penwin's business with himself, but he understood his 
 own business. And Penwin, who was not so alert as 
 he had been at the moment of meeting, did not catch 
 the change in the younger man. 
 
 "You are a Quaker Abolitionist, the son of a must 
 I say it? cowardly Quaker Abolitionist. Like father, 
 like son." 
 
 "Not necessarily," Elliot said, with a smile playing 
 about his lips. 
 
 The words stung the colonel, while they angered him, 
 for his own son was always in his mind. 
 
 " If he means to insult me with allusions to Craig, he 
 shall pay the full penalty for it," he thought, " and if he 
 means to play the hypocrite and beg off from his father's 
 notions, be deserves all he will get." Aloud, in a cut 
 ting tone, he said: 
 
 " You yourself are an Abolitionist. What do you say 
 to that?" 
 
 "I don't care to say anything," Elliot replied, and 
 the colonel mistook the calm tone for a mark of sub 
 mission. 
 
 "He is even easier than I thought," was his mental 
 comment. 
 
 "It may be a kindness to tell you here what you 
 won't be long in finding out. You and your kind will
 
 252 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 soon be run back to Indiana, or New England, or wher 
 ever you came from. There is nothing surer under the 
 sun that is, if your lives are worth anything to you. 
 I'm giving you friendly warning." 
 
 It had anything but a friendly sound, that warning 
 note. And the words and the attitude and the expres 
 sion of the big, tyrannical, hot-headed man were 
 strangely out of keeping. For Elliot read fast enough 
 behind the voice whose hand would help to hold the 
 driver's whip for the running, and whose weapon would 
 hold the murderous bullet for the laggard of the race. 
 
 "Now to make it easier for you, and to do you a 
 favor you will not be slow to value" there was no mis 
 taking the threat veiled in the language "I shall say 
 something here this evening that will be said only once." 
 He paused to let the full force of his words take effect. 
 
 "Well, say it," Elliot replied, composedly. And still 
 the colonel failed to catch the spirit behind the even 
 voice. 
 
 "I have this to say. You have the notion that you 
 can stay here, and steal away from my son what belongs 
 to him. I mean a girl's affection. You are in love 
 with Beth Lamond. You shall never marry her, nor 
 prevent her from marrying Craig. Her father's consent 
 is already given to Craig to try to win her. You will 
 not put one stone in his way, you hear me?" 
 
 Penwin was close beside Elliot now. The heavy 
 revolver and the gleaming knife seemed murderously 
 convenient, and Penwin was a giant in his muscular 
 power. 
 
 " You hear me? " He growled the question fiercely. 
 
 "I do," replied the young man. 
 
 In the late afternoon light, mounted on his white 
 horse, with his white face, from which the color had
 
 
 
 "Boniface Penwin, you are an infamous liar"
 
 SPRING WEATHER 253 
 
 ebbed away, with his dark eyes full of fire, there was 
 about him that subtle sense of the invisible protection 
 that goes only with the perfectly fearless soul. 
 
 " You may have the foolish notion that she cares some 
 thing for you," the colonel burst out. "She does not. 
 So much, indeed, does she care elsewhere, that she even 
 comes to see Craig when she knows he is alone. She 
 came not long ago to see him; she sent your brother 
 Mark away and came on alone. They were together for 
 hours. I sent her away at last. I thought it was better 
 for her." There was a look of hatred in Boniface Pen- 
 win's eyes, and an insulting sneer in his expression as 
 if he would ask, tauntingly, "What do you think of 
 that?" And to the unspoken query, Elliot replied, in a 
 voice so deep it should have warned the older man: 
 
 "Boniface Penwin, you are an infamous liar." 
 
 A blow full in the face could not have blinded Colonel 
 Penwin more. His voice fell to the low depth of almost 
 inaudible passion. 
 
 " This is my last word to you. Understand me ! You 
 will keep out of Craig's way. You will give up all 
 attentions to Elizabeth Lamond. You will not by one 
 word or act cause her to think of you, nor win her 
 thought a hair's breadth from my son. You will prom 
 ise me here, and now all that I ask. As sure as there is 
 a God in heaven, or a devil in hell, you will not vary 
 one jot from my commands to you here. Promise me, 
 now!" 
 
 As the eyes of Cain must have looked to his brother 
 Abel, when the two were alone in the field, so Boniface 
 Penwin's steel-gray eyes were fixed on the Quaker boy, 
 the son of a craven Quaker Abolitionist, who never car 
 ried a gun, and who believed in the spiritual quackery 
 called "brotherly love."
 
 254 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Then he whom David Lamond considered a coward, 
 a seeker for his own safety, a craven in war, and a 
 weakling in peace the same Elliot Darrow turned 
 squarely before the big, heavily armed man. Lifting 
 his dark eyes to the face before him, he spoke steadily: 
 
 "Boniface Penwin, I promise you nothing at all. I 
 shall do exactly as I please, and, so far as I am con 
 cerned, you and all your kind may go to the devil." 
 
 Then, wheeling his horse about, he rode down the 
 Trail without even quickening his pace. 
 
 Penwin had fastened his eyes on the young face, and 
 something there and in the proud carriage of his form 
 seemed to hold his enemy motionless. As the Quaker 
 turned to go, he caught his breath in excess of anger, 
 and then the still, glassy pool was looking up at him: 
 featureless, colorless, a white bubble where the stream 
 trickled into it; a little foam where the overflow slipped 
 out, a formless, dull menace and Penwin sat again and 
 stared at the waters as he had done on the October eve- 
 ing in the autumn gone by. 
 
 The next evening, Elliot went to Lamond's to call on 
 Beth. Craig was already there, and Elliot, who had 
 faced the father in his anger, found the son a harder foe 
 to meet. For Craig carried all the conscious advantage 
 of possession. 
 
 "I didn't know you had an engagement for the eve 
 ning ; I think I 'd better not stay," he said in confusion. 
 
 "I haven't any engagement; Craig just came in, un 
 heralded, like yourself," Beth answered calmly. " Mother 
 is popping corn in the kitchen. She will be here with it 
 in a few minutes." 
 
 Elliot still hesitated, for he could not thrust his com 
 pany on those who had not expected it, and Craig
 
 SPRING WEATHER 255 
 
 adroitly let him feel his intrusion. He held his hat and 
 turned to go, when Beth put her hand on the door. 
 
 " You are always welcome," she said, in a low voice. 
 "Please stay." And Elliot did not go. 
 
 No member of the company ever forgot that evening. 
 Nor did rivals for one claim ever show to better advan 
 tage. Craig could be brilliant when he chose, and with 
 his inborn aristocracy and his sense of superior hold 
 upon the good-will of the family, he became a charming 
 guest. But the undercurrent of a selfish motive, the 
 sense of sham somewhere, made a hollow ring. And 
 even with his advantages, Elliot seemed unawed by 
 Craig. Then, too, his own genial character had never 
 shown itself so well before. And, with all, the face of 
 Isabel Darrow's son reflected his mother's beauty as he 
 sat in the Lamond home that night. 
 
 " Craig can never win against a fellow like that," the 
 shrewd Scotch father thought. "There must be some 
 means besides those already used to accomplish this 
 thing." 
 
 When the good-bys were said, it was Elliot who was 
 last to leave, and the timid glance of Beth's gray eyes, 
 that had looked so frankly up at Craig a moment before, 
 made the Quaker's heart beat happier as he went away. 
 
 A little distance the two young men followed the same 
 trail. They said good-by with no show of coldness, but 
 each knew that the parting of the ways had come for 
 them. When next they spoke as friends, strange lines 
 had come into their lives, and different far were condi 
 tions about them. They stood not equal then, but one 
 was suppliant to the other. 
 
 And now the Kansas springtime had come, unlocking 
 the land to freedom again, unlocking the pent-up settlers
 
 256 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 to industry and hope, and unlocking the heart of youth 
 to love and promise. 
 
 It was Sabbath, clear, balmy, and bracing, in the Vin- 
 land Valley. The peace of God was over all the prairies, 
 the joy of the glad season of growing things was in the 
 breezes that poured out a libation of honor to him who 
 gave them. There was a preaching service again at 
 Palmyra, and again the scattered cabin homes gave up 
 their households to swell the audience. 
 
 Patty Wren always declared that when she did things, 
 with no reason for the doing, she did her best. 
 
 "Birds go by instinct, anyhow," she declared, "and I 
 was a Sparrow, christened Patience Sparrow, before I 
 married Cokey Wren. So I 've always been a bird." 
 
 On the Saturday night before, Coke had gone fishing, 
 not by Jupe's order, for he had evidently forgotten that, 
 but down in a fairly good fishing place in the creek; 
 and the meagre catch furnished the Sunday dinner. 
 
 "I ain't no reason for doin' it, only fresh fish is real 
 tasty this time o' year, but I 'm goin* to bring Beth La- 
 mond home with me for dinner, an' you 're goin' to bring 
 Elliot Darrow home with you." 
 
 " I want to know," Coke said, slowly. " Hain't you 
 takin' on some job, Patty? Together we couldn't pull 
 down two hundred pound without Cotton Mather 
 throwed in, an* Beth 's plump as a partridge. An', as far 
 as Elliot, he's ever' bit as big as his father is now, an' 
 Hiram's as sizeable a man as there is in the Valley. 
 Hain't you got ahead of the hounds on your reason, 
 Patty W., when you talk of us two bringin' 'em home?" 
 
 "You know what I mean, Coke. An', as to reason, I 
 hain't no reason at all for doin' it. Can't I go by instinct, 
 same as them Quakers goes by the spirit movin' 'em?
 
 SPRING WEATHER 257 
 
 When did Quakers get a monopoly on the moving busi 
 ness, anyhow? Now, do as I say, just once." 
 
 Coke and Patty stood looking at each other. Without 
 words they understood each other. 
 
 The preaching service was not without some shadows 
 of coming events, and they were gloomy ones, for the 
 struggle for supremacy was still going on. But it was 
 on the older members that shadows fell heavily. For 
 children are born care-free, and springtime and youth are 
 blind to shadows. 
 
 Between David Lamond and his daughter a faint rift 
 had come. No word had been said. The love between 
 them was not lessened. But when purposes separate, 
 purposes founded on earnest belief and loving interest, 
 the beginning of new ways is set up. It was the nature 
 of Beth's father, having once decided on a course, to 
 stand firm. For his decision was rooted in conscientious 
 belief, and yet he could not just now bring his fatherly 
 will to bear upon his daughter to enforce obedience. 
 Beth went her way, happy, affectionate, but she went 
 her own way, nevertheless. Craig came often, and the 
 understanding between him and David Lamond grew. 
 Elliot came rarely. But he went often to Lawrence, 
 and found homes welcoming him and smiles awaiting 
 him. And Mrs. Lamond held her peace. 
 
 "There's nothing setter than a Scotchman, unless it 
 might be a Scotch woman. Beth's too near like her 
 father to give up, and she has too much of his own 
 good sense to make a bad hobble. I guess I '11 just keep 
 out of it and bide my time." 
 
 Beth and Elliot found themselves guests in the little 
 cabin on the edge of the ravine for a Sabbath dinner of 
 fresh fish and white biscuit, with dandelion greens, and 
 Patty's treasured offering of pickled peaches, saved for
 
 258 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the biggest affairs only. Dinner parties in the early Kan 
 sas homes had little of variety or propriety of blending 
 of the dishes offered. 
 
 The young people had not met for several weeks, and 
 the joy in their faces may not all have been the mere 
 reflection of the joyous day. Coke and Patty, with the 
 culture bred in loving homely natures, refrained from 
 any hint of noting this, or of good-natured joking and 
 teasing as coarser-fibred people might have done. 
 
 At the beginning of the long afternoon, a messenger 
 came hurrying to the cabin. 
 
 "The Nethercote baby was worse, and Mrs. Nether- 
 cote was in a bad way. Could Coke go post-haste for 
 Dr. St. Felix and Patty stay with Mrs. Nethercote?" 
 
 Such was the call, and the Wrens responded, of course, 
 and Beth and Elliot started on their homeward way. 
 
 There was no need to hurry, all the golden afternoon 
 was before them, and they had not been together for 
 what seemed to them a long time. So they loitered over 
 the verdant prairie abloom with its rainbow-tinted 
 glory of flowers, and came to the crossing of the Trail 
 by the Hole in the Rock. The placid pool smiled up 
 at them a welcoming peace for the peaceful day. The 
 tender vines trailed over the gray rock, the young leaves 
 cast a lacy shade on the young growths of grass and 
 shrub in the sheltered ravine. The two sat down on the 
 shelving stone by the water's edge. 
 
 "What a beautiful romantic spot this is," Beth ex 
 claimed, as she looked at the soft, shadowy waters. 
 
 Elliot recalled the night when the storm and cold had 
 threshed upon him here, and that later evening when the 
 storm of a man's unbridled anger had beat upon him. 
 And then he looked at Beth. She was wearing the plaid 
 silk she had worn to the "peace party" at Lawrence.
 
 SPRING WEATHER 259 
 
 Its soft hues seemed to blend now into the soft spring 
 time coloring as they had graced the social function of 
 feminine finery. Her only ornament to-day was a gold 
 locket, hung about her neck by a narrow pink velvet 
 ribbon. Beth was not much given to wearing jewelry, 
 and on the frontier, with its needs and its terrors, and its 
 hardships, jewelry seemed to her in those first years 
 like a cheap adornment. 
 
 "Any place looks good to me where you are, Beth," 
 Elliot said. 
 
 She did not look up, and he noted how the deeper 
 pink of her cheek harmonized with the gray-green and 
 dark-blue of the Lamond plaid. 
 
 " You wore that dress the night of the peace party, 
 didn't you?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, this is my old reliable," she answered. " Offi 
 cial function, or log-cabin Sunday dinner it is the 
 same." 
 
 "But you are not the same," Elliot said. 
 
 "Why not?" queried Beth. 
 
 " Because at official functions you are not with me," 
 he answered. 
 
 "What did Rosalind wear to the party, Elliot?" Beth 
 asked. 
 
 " I don't know," Elliot replied. 
 
 " I do," Beth said. " It was a light-blue wool, and it 
 was wonderfully becoming, too." 
 
 " Oh, I knew that," Elliot said, lazily, as he flung grass 
 blades at the quiet waters. 
 
 "How did you know it?" 
 
 "Because everything she wears is becoming to her, 
 and I know it, and never notice what it is made of or 
 the color or style." 
 
 "Then all I wear is not becoming, or maybe this
 
 260 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 isn't, but Craig said that night it was." Beth's eyes 
 were dancing mischievously now. 
 
 "I don't know so well about what you wear being 
 becoming," Elliot said. "I know you would become 
 anything you put on, and I always notice exactly what 
 it is, and I think Craig Penwin has good taste to know as 
 much as he does, and good judgment to tell you so." 
 
 "I didn't want to go with Craig that night not so 
 very much, I mean." Beth was breaking up twigs and 
 dropping them into the water, watching the circles widen 
 as they fell. 
 
 "Why did you do it, then?" Elliot asked. 
 
 " Because papa wanted me to," the girl replied. 
 
 "That's why I took Rosalind," Elliot said, medita 
 tively. " Her papa, not mine. He likes me." Emphasis 
 on "he." 
 
 " So does Rosalind ; Craig says she does," Beth said. 
 
 "I'm glad she does, for I like her, and Craig ought 
 to know. He is there half the time," Elliot said. 
 
 "Maybe he likes her himself," Beth suggested. 
 
 "I don't think he does, but I think he wants me to 
 like her. He 's a magnanimous dog." 
 
 "And you accommodate him?" 
 
 "Yes, but not in the way he wishes. Rosalind is a 
 charming girl, companionable and interesting to me be 
 cause she is interested in my work," Elliot explained. 
 
 "And in you?" 
 
 Elliot made no reply. And Beth's heart gave a great 
 throb. How princely he seemed this glorious afternoon, 
 sure of himself and with the capacity to make proud and 
 glad the heart of any girl. Of all the children who had 
 gone nutting together that October day, none had 
 changed so much as Elliot. 
 
 They talked of other things serious and light, uncon-
 
 SPRING WEATHER 261 
 
 scious of the passing hours, until the rays of the 
 afternoon sun began to strike horizontal lines into the 
 ravine. 
 
 "Are you in a hurry to get home, Beth?" Elliot asked. 
 
 "No; why do you ask?" Beth replied. 
 
 " Because we may not have another such an afternoon 
 together, and I want to make the most of it," Elliot said. 
 
 "Why did you think I would want to hurry home?" 
 Beth's voice was not quite natural. 
 
 " I thought Craig might be coming to-night " 
 
 " And if he should be ? " Beth interrupted him. 
 
 "Why, he'll have to wait. Let's go up the Trail to 
 the sheltering rocks. It is getting warm down here, and 
 later out on the bluff and watch the sunset over the val 
 ley." 
 
 " And let Craig wait all night? " the girl said, demurely. 
 " But won't you tell me why it may be the last afternoon 
 that we may have together?" 
 
 In Beth's deep gray eyes there was an earnestness that 
 the young man could not quite comprehend. 
 
 " Not now, Beth. I may tell you later," he said. 
 
 The gray eyes did not change, and Elliot could not 
 know how swiftly her mind formed its conclusion. The 
 picture her imagination had made when she saw Rosa 
 lind St. Felix bending over little Joe came again unbid 
 den as before. She saw down the long years, when Elliot, 
 a successful physician, would be filling a large place in 
 his community. Beloved, even famous he must be, with 
 his pretty wife Rosalind, who could make a home so 
 homelike. And the wealth of love he would lavish on 
 his wife. What a treasure to covet ! Poor Beth ! 
 
 And all the while they were strolling leisurely along 
 the Trail toward the cool, winding way through the wood 
 land.
 
 262 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Don't you like the Hole in the Rock, Elliot?" Beth 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, I do now, but I did n't until to-day. Some day 
 I'll tell you why I changed my mind about it," Elliot 
 answered. 
 
 They were half way up the slope in the sweet, half- 
 silent wood. A broad, flat stone beside the way seemed 
 to invite to rest awhile, and they sat down upon it. 
 Overhead, the rock shelves, vine-draped, made a pic 
 turesque setting for the spot. Down the Trail the after 
 noon sunlight gleamed golden and grand on the open 
 far prairie. Above them, the same clear glory crowned 
 the bluff. Here was quiet, and cool shadow, and dainty 
 coloring of shrub and budding tree; and all the sweet, 
 woodsy sounds and odors of Nature's blessed places of 
 peace were round about these two, and they were 
 young, and it was the Sabbath-day of a radiant spring 
 time. 
 
 Elliot had thrown aside his hat and pushed the dark 
 curls from his white brow with his strong, white hand. 
 Brow and hand would soon be brown with the summer 
 tan of outdoor labor. But to-day, he was every inch a 
 gentleman. Even Craig Penwin, who had the trick of 
 the aristocrat, would not have excelled this young stu 
 dent-farmer, this frontier settler in a yet-to-be conquered 
 land. 
 
 Beth glanced up at her companion as he sat silently 
 beside her. She was not vain, but she could not help 
 wondering wherein the charm of little Rosalind might 
 lie that could so win this man whose affection could 
 bring such pride to any woman's soul. 
 
 Beth was unconscious of her own winsome grace at 
 that moment. Elliot was not looking at her. How could 
 she know whose image lay back of those eyes looking
 
 SPRING WEATHER 263 
 
 out steadily at the Trail winding down to sunny length 
 of waving verdure. 
 
 "Elizabeth," Elliot turned to her and gently called 
 her name. "You asked me why this may be our last 
 afternoon together." 
 
 " Yes," Beth said. " I wondered why. But I had no 
 right to ask. It is not my place to do that." 
 
 "It is your place to ask me anything," and Elliot 
 smiled on her. " Do you remember the day John Brown 
 told us we should have ten years of trouble?" 
 
 " Yes ; are they beginning? " Beth was smiling now. 
 
 " They are begun." Elliot was graver, but not sad. 
 
 "I saw John Brown the day Mark and I started to 
 Penwins' together. Mark left me to show him the way 
 to Nethercotes'." 
 
 "And. you went on alone?" 
 
 " Why not? But when I got there Tarleton and Lucy 
 were gone to Palmyra. I think I may have stopped there 
 ten minutes." 
 
 " Ten minutes? " Elliot remembered Colonel Penwin's 
 insinuating words, " They were alone for hours together," 
 and he said to himself, " I 'm glad I told him he was an 
 infamous liar." 
 
 When Beth met Elliot's eyes again, she forgot there 
 had ever been a Rosalind St. Felix. He had folded his 
 hands together, and with gentle tenderness of voice and 
 glance he was saying : 
 
 "This may be our last afternoon; I'll tell you why, 
 Beth. Your father gives me every reason to know he 
 does not like me. I am sorry, but I cannot change my 
 self. I hope he may change his mind. I'll not try to 
 change it for him. But, Beth," his face was illumined 
 with a wonderful light, " whatever may happen in this 
 ten years of trouble, one thing has already happened to
 
 264 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 me. I have learned to love you, my darling, and in 
 trouble or calm, I could not put you out of my life. I 
 tell you this, knowing you may say in a moment more 
 that you are already promised away, that you cannot care 
 for me, that you dare not slight your father's wishes. I 
 want you to know it. That 's all." 
 
 Beth sat very still, with downcast eyes. She could not 
 know how marvelously fair were her golden hair and 
 round, pink cheeks, nor how sweet the curve of her full 
 red lips, and clear and firm the outline of her chin, and 
 her white throat, a woman for men to respect and 
 honor as well as to love. 
 
 Lifting her gray eyes, now dark and luminous, with 
 the love-light of youth's happiest hour, she said no word, 
 for words seemed lost to use in her world just then. 
 
 And Elliot understood. He opened his arms to her and 
 she let him fold her close, let him lift her face and kiss 
 her now, and toy with the golden hair on her forehead. 
 In wonder, she looked up into his eyes, and timidly she 
 put her hand on his. And for them the miracle of love's 
 completeness came again to bless the world. 
 
 The sun was sinking and they went up to the open 
 bluff and sat down on the same log seat of the October 
 nutting time. 
 
 " The last time we were here, Craig was with us," Beth 
 said, as she remembered the day. 
 
 "The last time I saw you here, Craig was with you. 
 It was a cold, winter day." 
 
 "Were you on the white horse that day? What won 
 derful eyes you have, Elliot." Beth remembered the day 
 that she and Craig had looked out at the snow-draped 
 earth. 
 
 It was a land of pure delight now, with the April sun 
 set splendor filling all the west and the soft green and
 
 SPRING WEATHER 265 
 
 opal and purple lines of evening illumining the Vinland 
 Valley. 
 
 " Beth, my loved one," Elliot said, drawing her to him, 
 " this beautiful, wonderful region will be threshed with 
 storms, and on us who live here sorrow and care and 
 bitter woes may fall. But we shall outlive the storms, 
 we shall grow strong with the strength of overcoming. 
 Only let us be true to each other. What happens then 
 we shall meet fearlessly. We can wait for what the 
 years are to bring. But never more shall we have to 
 wait alone." 
 
 He undid the knot of the pink velvet ribbon that held 
 Beth's locket, and in its place he fastened a daintily 
 wrought gold chain. 
 
 " Some day, I '11 put a locket on it to match the chain," 
 he said. " Wear it anyhow for me. It is an old, old 
 trinket that has been in the Darrow family for years and 
 years." 
 
 "May I give you this locket now?" Beth asked, and 
 opening it, her own sweet face smiled out at them. " Papa 
 had it done in Philadelphia last spring. Keep it." 
 
 " But I do not want to take your father's gift," Elliot 
 said. 
 
 " He said when he gave it to me that I might give it to 
 just one person," and Beth looked down, blushing. " The 
 one who would always care for it. You will care for it, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "Always, dearie." 
 
 And Beth knew in full measure the joy that she had 
 pictured would be given to Rosalind St. Felix. 
 
 The sunset slipped away and the twilight of the rare 
 evening filled the valley with silvery mist and purple 
 shadow. 
 
 " Let us sing, Elliot, one goodnight song before we go."
 
 266 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "Must days like this come to an end?" he asked. 
 " Then let them end in song," and together they sang. 
 
 It was the Sabbath, the time for sacred things, and 
 they had forgotten that the world held any other soul 
 than theirs in that holy twilight hour. So they did not 
 note the coming, the waiting beyond the evergreen clump, 
 and the passing of a rider on a red roan horse, a splen 
 did military figure with head erect and fierce, angry eyes 
 that scowled upon the two unconscious of his presence. 
 
 Far out over the Vinland Valley, their voices floated 
 in the old, old hymn of twilight peace and beauty. 
 
 Abide with me. Fast falls the eventide. 
 The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide. 
 When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
 Oh Thou that changest not, Abide with me. 
 
 Then together, in the soft evening shadows, they went 
 down the old Trail and along the by-way to the stone 
 cabin home of David Lamond.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 
 
 Not in vain a heart will break 
 Not a tear for Freedom's sake 
 Falls unheeded: God is true. 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 HOW shall chisel, brush, or pen record a story first 
 made with bullet, sword, and fire-brand? The 
 spring sunshine breathed out its blessing. The prairies 
 smiled serenely in their happy peacefulness. Above them 
 swam a dreamy haze. Upon their broad expanses the 
 untamed beauty of the wilderness spread itself luxuri 
 antly. No fierce wild beast lay in waiting to kill; no 
 miasmal marsh polluted the air with its fever poison, 
 and no savage barbarian race hungered to destroy. The 
 Kansas struggle that was waged in that fair springtime 
 waged with unparalleled ferocity on the one hand, and 
 with unbreakable endurance on the other was not the 
 old-time struggle for existence with natural foes. Rather 
 was it a fight for a National ideal. The ideal upon which 
 the American Colonies, three-quarters of a century ago, 
 had founded a Constitution, organized a Government, and 
 flung to the winds of the Western Continent its symbol 
 in a banner of red and white, with its starry field of blue. 
 The ideal that all men are created free. 
 
 With the coming of spring came the tide of immigra 
 tion. One influx was from the Northern States, and the 
 hardships for the newcomers began before they even set 
 foot in the new kingdom of the West. Missouri became 
 
 267
 
 268 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 a savage gantlet to every opponent of human slavery 
 who sought to reach the Kansas Territory. From St. 
 Louis to Westport transportation was denied or obtained 
 at exorbitant cost. Baggage was damaged or destroyed, 
 and every comfort withheld, not only from men who were 
 unaccustomed to hardships themselves, but from frail 
 women and innocent babes. And in the ears of these 
 were hourly poured the threats of violence to come, and 
 the utter annihilation of all Kansas Free-State settle 
 ments. And yet these sturdy people came hither and 
 began to fill the valleys and spread out westward along 
 the billows of the green prairies. 
 
 There was another force for occupation sweeping in 
 on the same steamers, along the same trails, and on to 
 the same fertile lands, to have and to hold them for its 
 own. Its people came up from the Southern States, some 
 to escape from slave-ridden regions, some to improve 
 their fortunes, some in sincerity to make homes and 
 widen the domain of Southern ideas. But the great ma 
 jority, overshadowing all the others combined, came to 
 seize the land by lawless force and to depopulate it by 
 brute ferocity. These things are history, not fiction. 
 
 So, to the beautiful land, with its rippling waves of 
 verdure, these prairie pirates came without conscience, 
 justice, or pity. Nor brush, nor pen, nor chisel can por 
 tray the things of their handiwork. Nay, even the full 
 measure of it cannot be comprehended by the imagination 
 in this day of peaceful prosperity, when old prejudices 
 are laid aside and old animosities forgotten. In the 
 springtime of that year of our Lord eighteen hundred 
 fifty-six, it was not an imaginary condition, but a terribly 
 real problem that faced the Kansas people and called for 
 their judgment, courage, endurance, and unwavering 
 faith in God Omnipotent.
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 269 
 
 In this springtime, the Vinland Valley took on a less 
 lonely but no less lovely countenance. Palmyra was a 
 Free-State village, and along the Santa Fe Trail east and 
 west the Free-State folk found homestead claims to their 
 liking. But Colonel Boniface Penwin was right when 
 he assured his children in the autumn before that 
 Georgia and the other Southern commonwealths would 
 soon send neighbors of the Penwin type for their 
 association. 
 
 On the morning after Colonel Penwin had halted his 
 horse behind the evergreen clump and listened to Elliot 
 and Beth singing in the Sabbath twilight, he came radia- 
 antly before his family. 
 
 " I have good news for all of us," he declared. " Major 
 Buford, of Alabama, has come with three hundred men 
 from Alabama and South Carolina and Georgia. They 
 have settled one camp down toward the southeast. I 
 expect to see Buford to-day. I told you six months ago 
 we would soon have the right kind of people here. 
 You'll not be lonely and need those trashy Abolition 
 young folks for associates much longer." 
 
 Lucy and Tarleton looked down and said nothing, 
 while Craig remarked, indifferently: 
 
 "I saw a man in Palmyra yesterday who said Rox- 
 bury, of Atlanta, is with Buford." 
 
 "The man who wanted to marry Aunt Lucy?" Lucy 
 asked, innocently. 
 
 And Tarley, looking at his sister, added: 
 
 "Our Lucy looks nearer like auntie every day, don't 
 she, papa?" 
 
 He was too young to note the gray color of his father's 
 face, although he did miss the smile he wanted. But if 
 he was too young, Craig was not. And Colonel Penwin 
 avoided looking at his eldest son.
 
 270 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 " Let 's not talk about that," Lucy said, with more tact, 
 and then the meal was ended in silence. 
 
 " Craig, I want to see you a minute," the Colonel said, 
 when the family had separated. 
 
 Craig followed his father out of doors and they stood 
 beside the cabin for a few minutes' conference. 
 
 "How are you prospering in your game?" Colonel 
 Penwin asked, jocosely. 
 
 Craig's face flushed, and an angry light was in his eyes. 
 
 " It is not a game, father ; it is a life purpose with me 
 now," he answered, in a low voice. 
 
 " Of course, of course, I was only joking ; but I can 
 give you some information worth having, and some 
 advice you will do well to heed. I learned its wisdom 
 by harder knocks. You must be sensible and take it 
 from me." 
 
 "Well?" Craig assented. 
 
 " First, I must speak of some other things." 
 
 There was an undue emphasis on the word must. 
 "You say Roxbury is here? Confound him! Craig, he 
 is the man whom I wanted to be rid of when I came to 
 Kansas." 
 
 "He is? I thought he was in love with Aunt Lucy." 
 Craig's eyes were fixed on his father's face. 
 
 Colonel Penwin was ready this time and gave no sign 
 of emotion, but spoke calmly. 
 
 " What I want to say is this : You are to know nothing 
 of him nor his dealings with our family. Do not let 
 anybody know you ever heard his name before. Who 
 told you about him up at Palmyra? " 
 
 "The man who lives in that little cabin, the last one 
 on the Trail, this side of town. It was nearly hidden 
 with grass in the Fall. You remember it, don't you?" 
 
 The Colonel did remember it, and he added:
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 271 
 
 "Roxbury's agent, Jack Bobbs, of Atlanta, owns that 
 place. Who lives there?" 
 
 "I don't know," Craig replied, "and I don't care to 
 know Roxbury here, either. You needn't force that on 
 me. But, Father, every time I am in Lawrence I see 
 Roxbury's Jupe." 
 
 "Well, see him if you want to; you have nothing to 
 do with him," and Penwin, off his guard again, found his 
 anger showing itself. 
 
 "No," Craig answered, "but I wondered if Roxbury 
 would claim him here. He passes for a free man in Law 
 rence." 
 
 " He is a free man," Penwin fairly shouted the words. 
 " Let him alone." 
 
 " All right, father ; go on," Craig said, composedly. 
 
 The Colonel waited long enough to get a grip on him 
 self, then he said quietly: 
 
 " Craig, I told you once that you had a powerful force 
 to combat when you crossed purposes with Elliot Dar- 
 row. Now I know it ever more truly than I did then. 
 And I know further that you cannot outdo him by coer 
 cion. Keep still." 
 
 Craig had opened his lips to protest. 
 
 " You may call yourself ' Craig Penwin, gentleman,' 
 and you may call Elliot Darrow by any name you choose. 
 It will not change matters any. And if you are wise, you 
 will listen to me. You can refuse to do it and to follow 
 my advice if you want to. It all rests with you." 
 
 In spite of Craig's pride, he could not fail to see the 
 father still pleading for a son in Colonel Penwin's face, 
 although the older man would not have had it appear so. 
 
 "I'm listening," Craig said. 
 
 "Then remember this: You will win what you want. 
 But you must do it by stratagem and seeming good-will.
 
 272 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Never by abuse. It won't work. You must lay aside 
 your scruples and with a pleasing front " 
 
 "Stoop to deceit and trickery. I've already begun," 
 Craig said, bitterly. 
 
 "Then keep it up, but don't frown, smile. When a 
 young man gets to that place his battle has been far 
 more than half won." 
 
 " You give strange advice for a man who joins himself 
 to Jeff Buford and entangles his affairs with Jason Rox- 
 bury, gambler, of Atlanta, Georgia. I don't wonder 
 Aunt Lucy refused him," and Craig turned from his 
 father and went into the house. 
 
 A little later Colonel Penwin was on the bluff over 
 looking Vinland Valley, where by appointment he was 
 to meet Major Buford, who awaited him there. The two 
 took in the view of the prairie, and Penwin noted the 
 increasing number of claims taken even since the first 
 days of spring. 
 
 "It's all an Abolitionist settlement, Buford," Penwin 
 declared. " And they are striking deep roots. You can't 
 pull them up too early." 
 
 " Mark them out for me, Colonel," Buford said, as his 
 eyes traveled along from cabin to cabin. 
 
 " On the edge of the ravine up stream is Coke Wren, 
 Yankee, and his wife. Only two." 
 
 Buford made note of this in his book. 
 
 " Good. They will do to start with. Our fellows fixed 
 Brown at Leavenworth with hatchets. See?" The 
 Colonel nodded, and went on. 
 
 "Around the shoulder of the bluff on a crooked trail 
 is Nethercote, a Michigan man, wife and baby. Nether- 
 cote is away a good deal." 
 
 "All right," Buford entered the name. "One of my 
 men has sworn to kill an Abolitionist man, if he can, and
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 273 
 
 if he can't, he'll kill a woman, and if he can't do that, 
 he '11 kill a child. That 's the spirit of my men, sir." 
 
 " Up on the hilltop in that bunch of evergreens, where 
 a little tower sticks up is the worst of the valley, a 
 Quaker from Indiana. Won't fight and won't run. Don't 
 smile ; Hiram Darrow won't run." 
 
 " All the better sport then," Buford declared. " We '11 
 burn him out, brand his wife and turn out the little chil 
 dren naked to find their way to Indiana." 
 
 " There are no little children," the Colonel hastened to 
 say. " But put in the blackest letters you can make the 
 name of Elliot Darrow. If you miss everybody else to 
 get him, do it." 
 
 " It shall be done," Major Buford said. "Now, whose 
 place is that hidden by the timber? I see a smoke over 
 there?" 
 
 He pointed toward the Lamond homestead, hidden save 
 for the rising smoke above it. At the same moment a 
 powerful man riding a big horse came toward them from 
 the east, where the Trail wound through the woodland. 
 
 " Good morning, Roxbury. Colonel Penwin," Buford 
 said. 
 
 Roxbury halted beside Buford, but offered no hand to 
 Penwin. He was of the gambler type, with marks of- 
 dissipation written on his face. Buford noticed the lack 
 of courtesy and growled out : 
 
 " Oh, Roxbury, I forgot you and Penwin had had a 
 tiff. Suppose both of you put that aside till we clean up 
 Kansas. After the spoils are divided, you '11 feel so good 
 and be so rich you won't care to fuss any more. Finish 
 this job now." 
 
 The two men seemed to acquiesce, and Penwin looked 
 again toward Lamonds'." 
 
 "That's David Lamond's, a Scotchman of the Bruce
 
 274 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 and Wallace type. Ought to have been shot a long time 
 ago. But, as to his home, you '11 spare that, Buford, for 
 the sake of his daughter, a beautiful girl. You hear me? 
 Whoever touches that place reckons with me, on account 
 of my son," he added, as he caught Roxbury's eye. 
 
 "Since when did your feelings for your family get so 
 tender, Bonny Penwin," Roxbury asked, disdainfully. 
 "You don't need money as bad as you did once, I sup 
 pose. When you were losing everything in the gambling 
 parlors in Atlanta, you would have pledged your grand 
 mother, or your wife, or your sister." 
 
 Roxbury hissed the last two words at Penwin, with 
 venomous scorn, but Buford suddenly burst out with an 
 oath at the beginning and ending of his speech. 
 
 "You two let each other alone, or I'll list you both 
 here. If you think there 's anything slack about Buford, 
 of Alabama, you'll change what little minds you have 
 left when I 'm through. I Ve set this Lamond house on 
 the right side of the page. Now go on." 
 
 And the Vinland Valley, with this one exception, was 
 given over to the mercy of the prairie pirates. As Buford 
 started away, Roxbury said : 
 
 " I '11 overtake you before you get far." 
 
 "All right, Roxbury, but don't either one be a fool. 
 There 's bigger concerns than any old grudge you 've got. 
 Be patriots, and stand up for your country." And he 
 rode away, leaving the patriots together. 
 
 "Where is Jupe now, Penwin?" Roxbury asked. 
 
 " Who told you he was here ? " Penwin inquired. 
 
 "Jack Bobbs, when he came home last November. 
 Bobbs settled this side of Palmyra, you know, in a little 
 grass-covered box of a cabin." The gambler looked 
 meaningly at Penwin, as he said this. 
 
 "Have you sold Jupe again?" he asked, insinuatingly.
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 275 
 
 "No, sir, Jupe isn't mine to sell. He's up at Law 
 rence, and he says he's a free man. You pledged him 
 back to me, and I have no claim on him now. He 's free. 
 You'd better not fool with him, either. He's got the 
 strength of a tiger in his fist." 
 
 "Where's his wife, now?" Roxbury asked, smoothly. 
 
 " She 's dead. Paid the penalty of a crime." Penwin's 
 face was gray as it had been that day when he watched 
 the bubbles on the pool of the Hole in the Rock. 
 
 "Whose crime was it, may I ask?" Roxbury's voice 
 was oily in its softness. 
 
 Boniface Penwin turned upon him with a tigerish 
 fierceness. 
 
 " You heard what Major Buford said to us. Wait till 
 we settle this Territory. Then we '11 settle this matter," 
 and with a horrible oath, he turned his horse to the Trail 
 and rode madly away. 
 
 Buford and Roxbury, pursuing their course at a gal 
 lop, soon overtook a group of a dozen men on the Trail, 
 leading four unmounted horses among them. They were 
 a villainous crew to look upon, a rough, sneering, swag 
 gering bunch of dare-devils. Most of them were young 
 men, large of frame, dressed in coarse clothes, and all 
 armed with guns, pistols, and bowie knives. 
 
 "There's Jack Bobbs; count on him to raise hell and 
 put a chunk under it," Roxbury said to Major Buford, 
 as the two reached the company. 
 
 The whisky bottles passed from one coarse, tobacco- 
 stained mouth to another, with boasting and swearing 
 in the interludes. 
 
 Jack Bobbs rode alongside Buford's horse for a word 
 with his leader. 
 
 "We come onto two new settlers, young men and 
 their families, down the Trail five miles back," he said.
 
 276 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 "The men said they was on their way to their claims 
 west a little distance. 'We hope you are Free-State 
 men,' I said, just to fool them. 
 
 "'That's what we are,' one man said, and the other 
 said he'd like to see any Pro-Slavery man try to stop 
 him. So we stopped 'em both right then. Two of the 
 boys burnt their wagons, goods, and all. We took their 
 horses and told the women to walk back to Massachu 
 setts quick. There was two babies in the crowd, and one 
 of the boys suggested they could drop 'em into the Mis 
 souri River if they was heavy. Said they 'd better poison 
 the fishes than to grow any more Abolition dogs in this 
 Territory." 
 
 A roar of laughter followed this brutal recital. Then 
 with oaths and foul and cruel jests the rabble pursued its 
 way to other deeds of like fiendishness. For Major 
 Buford had come hither with this brutal gang to drive 
 out or assassinate all Free-State men; and if outraged, 
 branded women and naked starving children, robbed of 
 husbands and fathers, and plundered of all their posses 
 sions, should be left beside the smoking embers of their 
 cabin houses, it mattered nothing to him. He and his 
 kind were the vicious product that can grow only in a 
 slave-accursed land. Such a land these men had sworn 
 to make out of the sun-kissed prairies of the virgin 
 West. And this fair April morning saw the work of 
 their hands establishing itself. 
 
 "What's the next number on the program, Bobbs?" 
 Roxbury asked as the band turned up a narrow path 
 toward a bit of wood beside the creek. 
 
 " Oh, one of the men made a wager this morning he 'd 
 kill a Free-State man before night. There's an old fel 
 low living alone up here. His wife died froze to death, 
 I guess, last winter. He's sick and no harm to nobody,
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 277 
 
 but he 's a bitter anti. We '11 just rid the country of him 
 and win a bet beside." 
 
 And on they went. At the door of the cabin a white- 
 haired, thin-faced man sat drinking in the sunshine and 
 soft morning air. 
 
 "If this weather keeps up, I'll be working in my 
 garden," he was saying to someone who was moving 
 about inside the cabin. 
 
 The men dashed up to the doorstep. 
 
 "Are you a Free-State man?" the foremost rider thun 
 dered out. 
 
 " Yes, sir," the feeble voice came without a quaver. 
 Then as he saw the quick gleam of pistols, he cried to 
 the one inside, " Run, Mark ! run ! " 
 
 A scream of agony and the old form lay in a quivering 
 heap on the step. But Mark did not run. He never could 
 tell why, for he was pallid with fear. He stood up over 
 the dying man, believing his time had come. And in 
 that moment, the daring spirit that was born in him 
 asserted itself. 
 
 " You miserable wild beasts, you hyenas, to shoot down 
 a helpless old man," he cried. 
 
 A revolver snapped fruitlessly, and Bobbs flung up his 
 hand. 
 
 " Don't, boys, not now," he said. " That 's that Quaker, 
 Darrow's boy." 
 
 " But they are all to go," Buford interrupted. 
 
 " I say not now, Buford. Listen to me." 
 
 So with a volley of bullets all about him, but not one 
 aimed at him, they rode away, leaving Mark beside the 
 dying man. What wonder that the iron entered the soul 
 of the young Quaker boy then and that, daring, impulsive, 
 and young, in that hour beside the martyred dead, he 
 should vow to give his life in battle against this bloody
 
 278 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 force that knew no law, save the blood-lust of unbridled 
 ferocity. 
 
 "What's your soft dough now, Bobbs?" Roxbury 
 asked, as they hit the main Trail again. 
 
 "I ain't liftin' no hand against that boy so long as 
 Bonny Penwin is agin him," Bobbs replied, in a low voice. 
 "Somebody '11 git him yit, of course, but him and his 
 little brother rousted me out of my cabin this side of 
 Palmyra just in time to save my life last October. They 
 was on their way to a preachin' up to the hotel, an' they 
 runs in like two boys, an' says, easy like, ' Come, go to 
 church with us.' I just went along to be a boy for a 
 minute again, for I was lonesome. If I'd staid in that 
 grass-hid shanty, I 'd been a dead man that day. You '11 
 git the whole bunch of Darrows; you'll have to sooner 
 or later, for you can't scare 'em, and they ought to be 
 got, but between me and you, Roxbury, I ain't workin' 
 to pay Bonny Penwin's debts to the cause of slavery by 
 hittin' folks he wants hit." 
 
 As the men sped on their way, they came face to face 
 with Craig Penwin, whom Buford halted with the query : 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "My name is Penwin," Craig replied; then, with infi 
 nite insolence of tone, he drawled, "If you courageous 
 heroes who murder men and turn out women and chil 
 dren to perish, want an aim for your bullets, try me. I 
 am every inch a Southerner" how proudly he sat his 
 horse before them! "but I'd rather kill myself, I'd 
 rather die a hundred deaths than to be known as one of 
 you. Now, shoot, if you dare." 
 
 For the sake of the girl he loved, Craig could stoop to 
 trickery, but he was not yet a coward. 
 
 " Oh, he 's Colonel Penwin's son, saucy and daring, but 
 ' sound on the goose.' Let him alone," Jack Bobbs said.
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 279 
 
 " I 've got nothing against the boy. It 's Bonny Penwin 
 I 'm after," he added in a lower tone to Roxbury. 
 
 Craig passed on his way and the men went theirs, land 
 pirates, filling their hours with deeds of lawlessness and 
 cruelty of which this morning's work was typical. 
 
 Mark Darrow walked into the house like an old man 
 when he came home, and his mother read his face with a 
 sinking heart, for she saw that he had passed from boy 
 hood into manhood, and in her wisdom she knew that her 
 second son would act with a man's power, but with the 
 unripe judgment of an impulsive boy. 
 
 The two helpless settlers' wives whom Buford's men 
 bereft of all save their little children found their way to 
 Coke Wren's cabin on the edge of the ravine. 
 
 "Could you give us a drink of water and some food 
 for the children? " they asked, in piteous tones, afraid lest 
 another blow should fall on them, over-buffeted now with 
 misery. 
 
 " I want to know," Patty cried. " Come right in and 
 tell me what brought you here without no men folks." 
 
 They sat down on the cabin doorstep and told their 
 heart-breaking story. To Patty the story of brutal acts 
 had become so common that she had thought herself 
 under control. And yet she sniffled, and dabbed at her 
 eyes, and shook her fists, and tried by all available means 
 to keep from breaking down entirely at the recital of 
 bereavement and horror. 
 
 " I want to know," she said, with pretended composure 
 at last. " You come right into this cabin and stay till you 
 git your souls back into your bodies, what's been nigh 
 wrenched outen of 'em. Oh, it's big enough for all of 
 us. I've always lived in a rubber house that'd stretch 
 itself for to cover the poor and afflicted." 
 
 Her bright little black eyes were shining through her
 
 280 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 tears as she brought them all, two women and two little 
 babies, into the tiny cabin. " You can't live here and not 
 learn how to meet most anything." 
 
 Homely was the little figure, and with only the rudest 
 of frontier necessities about her, but her hard little hands 
 were deft and swift, and her plain face wore all the 
 beauty a loving heart and an irrepressible, cheery spirit 
 can give. 
 
 " Me and Cokey ain't got nobody but our two selves," 
 she chirped, as she soothed her stricken guests. " An' the 
 Lord just favors us by lettin' us help where we can. We 
 didn't git beauty ner riches to our share, ner no special 
 amount of book knowledge. Se He made it up to us in 
 givin' us friends and the quality of endurin' we can 
 live on bird-seed ef we need to, and we ain't neither 
 of us afraid none. An' that's a blessin' in this part of 
 His footstool." 
 
 The next afternoon there was a double funeral at the 
 Wren claim, and two young men who thirty-six hours 
 before had been full of life and hope and high purposes 
 lay still and pallid beside the cabin door, awaiting their 
 last earthly couch deep under the blossoming prairie-sod. 
 David Lamond read the Scripture lesson of the hour, the 
 ninetieth Psalm. Hiram Darrow offered the prayer, deep, 
 fervent, tender, ending with the note of sublimest victory : 
 
 "Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
 they do." 
 
 And Elliot sang for the two widowed ones the com 
 forting lines of that sorrow-soothing hymn: 
 
 Jesus, Lover of my soul, 
 Let me to Thy bosom fly. 
 
 sang in a voice so fraught with sympathy and tenderness 
 that even the stern-hearted Scotchman hid his eyes to 
 conceal the tears.
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 281 
 
 Nobody knew just how it happened that Beth staid 
 in the cabin with the fatherless little ones, while the 
 burial was made a mile away, nor why Elliot was left 
 on guard there, with the older people following the 
 mourners to the last rites. Nobody, unless it may have 
 been Patty Wren, and she never had reasons for her 
 doing, more than the birds. One of the children was 
 sleeping sweetly, and Beth was rocking the other baby 
 and singing softly to it, when Doctor St. Felix came 
 swiftly up to the cabin. Elliot was sitting in the rear 
 door, looking at Beth, who in her zeal to quiet the little 
 one was hardly conscious of his presence. But St. Felix 
 saw the whole picture, and paused a moment before he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Darrow," he said, in a quiet tone. " Get on your 
 horse and ride to Nethercotes' as fast as you can. I '11 go 
 after Nethercote. He's at the burial, I suppose," and he 
 turned away. 
 
 Elliot came to Beth's chair. 
 
 "Shall I leave you here alone?" he asked, gently, 
 bending over her. 
 
 She looked up timidly. 
 
 "Yes, Elliot. What can be the matter?" 
 
 "I don't know." Elliot still hesitated, and he bent 
 closer, and put his hand caressingly on hers. " I do not 
 want to leave you." 
 
 "I am not afraid, and I am well. Mrs. Nethercote is 
 sick. Go to their cabin and see what 's wrong." 
 
 Elliot touched her golden hair reverently. She looked 
 so like a Madonna with the sweet-faced baby nestling 
 close against her bosom. A thrill of joy possessed him 
 as he thought down the long years of a future wherein 
 Beth should be his household angel, the light of his fire 
 side, and his face was transfigured as he turned to leave
 
 282 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 her. Doctor St. Felix, who had come back to give a 
 word to Elliot, saw all this. There was a strange look in 
 his black eyes as he turned away again, and, leaving the 
 word unsaid, he hurried on. 
 
 With all speed Elliot made his way to the Nethercote 
 cabin, hidden around the shoulder of the bluff by the 
 crooked trail. It may have been the thought of Beth 
 that clung in his mind as he hurried along that made the 
 sight that met his gaze more terrible to him as he rounded 
 the last turn in the trail and came to the Nethercote 
 homestead. It was a secluded spot, not easy to find, 
 tucked away in the shelter of low bluffs, shaded with low 
 timber, and opening toward the rocky banks of a little 
 stream. 
 
 It had seemed a romantic place to Mrs. Nethercote 
 when her husband had first showed her the cabin hidden 
 among the burr oak and elms. But the frail young 
 mother with her sickly baby had found the frontier a 
 harsh land, redeemed only by the kindness of sympa 
 thetic neighbors, who lifted many burdens for her. Her 
 husband had gone to-day to assist these neighbors in 
 the double funeral, the result of the tragedy of the morn 
 ing before. He did not tell his wife of the event for fear 
 of exciting her, but he knew men were needed, not for 
 company, but for service, in these frontier funerals, and 
 he had received so many favors from these neighbors he 
 would at least help them to lift the heavy coffins and 
 shovel the earth upon them. 
 
 Doctor St. Felix was responding to an urgent call for 
 his services, when he met a group of villainous looking 
 men on the crooked trail. He scented trouble in their 
 very air, and, hurried as he was, courteously asked them 
 a question or two. The result was for him to rush to the 
 nearest cabin for aid. This happened to be Coke Wren's.
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 283 
 
 When Elliot, on little Cotton Mather, rushed up the 
 crooked trail into sight of the Nethercote cabin, the 
 flames were bursting from the roof, while rioting in scat 
 tered household furniture three men were busily search 
 ing for valuable loot. A fourth was in the act of driving 
 a cow from the already burning stable. And the fifth 
 man? The picture of Beth with the Madonna look in her 
 eyes as she cuddled the baby in her arms; the sacred 
 beauty of the thought in the young man's mind that put 
 a halo about her head in the thinking; the joy in the 
 memory of the Sabbath-day just past when he had told 
 her of his love, and she had let him hold her in his arms 
 and give her a lover's kiss with all these the fifth 
 man? 
 
 Mrs. Nethercote, speechless with terror, with her un 
 conscious infant in her arms, was struggling in the foul 
 embrace of the fifth man. To Elliot Darrow in that 
 moment the shock was more terrible than the sight of 
 deliberate murder would have been. For an instant he 
 stood motionless. Then, leaping from his horse, he 
 bounded toward the struggling woman. All the force of 
 the moral courage that through a long line of Quaker 
 ancestry had nerved itself to resistance of evil, to 
 endurance of ridicule, to submission, to torture; all the 
 unbreakable power of will and tenacity to a belief; all 
 the heroism that faces martyrdom, but will not yield a 
 hair's breadth for conscience' sake these gathered 
 now in physical form and spent themselves in the blow 
 of Elliot Darrow's steel fist. It fell like a sledge on the 
 head of the lecherous ruffian holding the horror-stricken 
 woman clasping her dying child. The villain loosed his 
 hold and fell, sprawling and unconscious, in the midst 
 of his plundering confederates a dozen feet away. 
 
 Mrs. Nethercote gave Elliot one look and sank fainting
 
 284 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 beside her lifeless baby. To the day of his death, Elliot 
 Darrow never forgot that look. Its expression was on 
 her face the next day, although her eyes were closed 
 then to open no more on scenes of earthly strife and 
 rescue. It spoke even to those who saw her then, but 
 to none others as to the young Quaker did it express the 
 joy of escape, the sudden opening of heaven's gates to 
 one on the brink of destruction, the gratitude, the inex 
 pressible thankfulness, the peace of supreme protection. 
 One long gaze and the young wife and mother sank down 
 unconscious. 
 
 The three men, bewildered by the sudden headlong 
 plunge of their comrade upon them, staggered to their 
 feet. A white-faced, terrible figure towered over them. 
 He was unarmed, yet by that mind mastery that is the 
 conqueror's surest weapon, in his utter fearlessness, he 
 charged upon them, as if the strength of ten men were 
 his. And it must have been. 
 
 "You villains! You murderers! You unspeakable 
 wretches!" he cried, as he swooped down upon them, 
 dealing out blow on blow. There were three of them, 
 each with two revolvers that he knew how to use, and 
 their single antagonist was a Quaker who believed in 
 peace. But they fell back before him, and one man 
 shouted wildly for Bill. Bill, who had been firing the 
 stable and driving off the cow, had disappeared at the 
 first noise. He was the same man who had fled before 
 Elizabeth Lamond's commanding voice on that winter 
 morning in the ravine with Patty Wren. 
 
 The men had rallied enough to seize their unconscious 
 comrade and drag him toward their horses, when Neth- 
 ercote and Coke Wren covered the last turn in the Trail. 
 In the horror of the time Wren and Elliot thought only 
 of their stricken neighbor, and the ruffians plunged down
 
 PRAIRIE PIRATES 285 
 
 the creek bank and hid their retreat in the brush of the 
 ravine. 
 
 A second time the little Wren cabin opened its door to 
 the dead and the bereaved living. 
 
 " Better here 'n any place else," Patty said, consolingly. 
 " We 're nearder 'n anybody else, an' Darrowses took one 
 widow an* her baby, an* Lamonds took 't other till they 
 can git theirselfs sorter together an' begin to live. It 
 would n't do for them women to be with this now, nohow. 
 Them prairie pirates may make this a land of terror. But 
 the Good Bein' ain't asleep. An' they'll come a day of 
 vengeance. Seems to me it 's most due." And the stout 
 hearted little Yankee clasped her hands as if to clutch 
 her patience a little longer, pending the coming of that 
 day.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 
 
 God's ways seem dark, but, soon or late, 
 They touch the shining hills of day; 
 The evil cannot brook delay. 
 
 The good can well afford to wait. 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 APRIL was slipping on toward May. With the ripen 
 ing of the season, the springtime wore a lovelier 
 grace. And through all these gracious days the work of 
 the prairie pirates in the Vinland Valley was the coun 
 terpart of the history-making in the lowlands of eastern 
 Kansas, upon its rugged river bluffs, and on every level 
 plain; and the hatred and ferocity of it all are things 
 incomprehensible in these days of law and freedom under 
 a blood-bought flag of peace and power. 
 
 Against this lawless piracy the settlers had maintained 
 only a position of self-defence for life and liberty, and a 
 steadfast adherence to the principles that prompted their 
 home-making in Kansas. True, there were tricky poli 
 ticians and adventurers, demagogs and outlaws, who in 
 the name of Free-State partisanship brought dishonor 
 and disaster to a cause they claimed to defend. They 
 are among "the poor" that the Scriptures say we have 
 always with us. But they formed only a tiny per cent 
 of the Free-State settlers in the growing villages and 
 scattered rural freeholds. 
 
 The first quarter of the year of 1856 had seen a strange 
 and atrocious record made along the Missouri River 
 
 286
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 287 
 
 borders and inland westward. Men tarred and feathered 
 and set adrift on rafts in the river, men chopped in the 
 face with hatchets and left to perish in the freezing cold ; 
 mutilated men flung dying into their homes, whose wives 
 became maniacs from the sight of them; houses burned, 
 with all clothing and bedding, leaving helpless women 
 and naked children alone on the cold, desolate prairie in 
 the desolate midnight hour; men forced to flee for their 
 lives, and, under promise of protection, cut down as they 
 ran these deeds and those too vile to set on record, 
 unbelievable now for their demoniac fiendishness, are a 
 part of the history-making of those days of peril and 
 power. For power went with this criminal horde of 
 prairie pirates. 
 
 And the Law shook hands with Crime. 
 
 The President of the United States, the military 
 authority at Washington, the weak-willed Governor of 
 Kansas, the civil officers of the Territory, all joined hands 
 with the prairie pirates, who under the law and the flag 
 were daily enforcing with bullet, sword, and fire-brand 
 the policy of Free-State extermination. 
 
 The Missouri River was blockaded to transportation. 
 And for those shut in the Territory proscribed for their 
 fearless declaration of opinion or their determination to 
 maintain their common rights, for such as these 
 God's pity on them! 
 
 For their own defence and for the protection of their 
 loved ones ; for the common justice and common welfare ; 
 for the sake of freedom and the flag they loved and hon 
 ored; and for that nobler principle, world-wide in its 
 scope, the principle of the enfranchisement of human 
 slavery and the God-given claim to life, liberty, and the
 
 288 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 pursuit of happiness for the maintenance of these 
 things there was builded up in these days a wall of men 
 on Kansas soil ; men who were defending with brain and 
 brawn the land they had come hither to preserve; men 
 who were welding into the State its imperishable ideals. 
 Their life story is the story of this commonwealth, and 
 their types stand in these pages. With the political acu 
 men of Doctor Robinson and Colonel Lane, conservative 
 and radical elements in government, were those forces 
 typified by the courage of John Speer, the statesmanship 
 of Winthrop Merriford, the loyalty and endurance of 
 David Lamond, and the scholarly ideals of Hiram Dar- 
 row. 
 
 Beyond these a power, not yet reckoned with in this 
 Maytime of sunny days and shadow-darkened deeds, a 
 force undreamed of then was ripening up for swift and 
 tremendous action. It was the power to forecast afar the 
 world-trend of events, held by a common-looking settler 
 on the Osawatomie, John Brown. Buford had already 
 made his boast that he had come to Kansas to clear out 
 the Brown settlement and to shoot the Abolition dogs on 
 sight, and John Brown had taken his surveying instru 
 ments and run a line through Buford's camp in order to 
 meet him and to find what manner of man it was who 
 had come hither to kill the Browns. Unknown to Buford, 
 John Brown walked in and out of the Southerners' camp 
 and talked to its commander and his men and gathered 
 their purposes against him first-hand. 
 
 Such were the men in this wall of defence, and such the 
 odds against them. And the days of the reign of terror 
 told off the rosary of the beautiful springtime. 
 
 In April Winthrop Merriford returned to Kansas. 
 
 " I must go South soon," he told his wife. " Osborne
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 289 
 
 Junior, of the firm of, Osborne and Osborne, is already 
 there doing all that can be done now." 
 
 "Where's Neil? I thought it was Osborne, Merriford 
 and Osborne, with Neil's name in the middle," Emily 
 Merriford said. 
 
 "It was once," her husband replied. "Neil's name is 
 out now." 
 
 "Where is he?" The wife looked fondly sympathetic. 
 
 "He is lost, Emily. When I settle things here and 
 get a line from Osborne Junior, I will go to Atlanta." 
 
 But before these things were done a price was set on 
 Winthrop Merriford's head; his wife and children had 
 need for him at home, while Jupe, big, patient, stupid 
 Jupe, so far broke his bonds as to declare : 
 
 " Mars'r Merriford, 'fore you 're ready to go Souf, I '11 
 be so near a free man I kin keep you all here. You trus' 
 me an' see." 
 
 "How does your name happen to be Roxbury, Jupe?" 
 Merriford asked, as the two were busy putting the office 
 in order after the lawyer's return. 
 
 "My las' Mars'r's name, sah," Jupe replied. "Er 
 pretty near the las' one, sah." 
 
 "Why not use the last one, then?" Merriford asked. 
 
 " 'Cause, sah, I ain't breakin' no oath, 'cause I never 
 swore not to answer ef I was axed, 'cause, sah. I 's 
 so 'shamed of my las' mars'r, I don't want to be named 
 after him ner be counted no kin to him. He 's a disgrace 
 to me, sah. He shore is." 
 
 " There 's a Roxbury, of Atlanta, grand right supporter 
 of this Major Buford, south of here," the lawyer said, 
 meditatively. 
 
 " Yes, sah, he 's my man. He 's my Roxbury, shore he 
 is," Jupe declared.
 
 290 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " And who was your last master? Buford? " Merriford 
 asked. " I don't blame you for disowning him." 
 
 " No, sah ; worse 'n him, worse 'n him. Hit was Colonel 
 Boniface Penwin, sah." 
 
 The lawyer gave no sign of surprise, because he had 
 schooled himself to meet surprises. After a little while 
 he asked: 
 
 "Are you sure you don't belong to him now? How 
 did you get your freedom?" 
 
 The negro was fully six feet and three inches tall, and 
 his evenly distributed weight was two hundred fifty 
 pounds. He turned on Merriford with the fierceness of a 
 tiger at bay, and he looked like a giant. 
 
 "Is I shore? Is I shore? 'Fore Almighty God, I is 
 shore. Eternally an' everlastin', shore. He gives his 
 word ef I keep still; I gives my word ef he keeps still. 
 That's my bondage, what I ain't yet free from." 
 
 "Are you sure he'll keep his word? I'd want more 
 than a promise from Penwin, although down deep he has 
 the makings of a gentleman." 
 
 " He was one once," Jupe said, sadly. " Gamblin* 
 undone him, root an' branch, down to Roxbury's in 
 Atlanta. He done sold hisself for money. He did." 
 
 "But will he keep his promise to you?" Merriford 
 insisted. 
 
 Jupe was the tiger again at the words. 
 
 "Will he keep it?" he growled, fiercely. "You watch 
 him everlastin'ly keep it. He not breaken that one oath. 
 You '11 see. When I git out of bondage, I won't keepen 
 no word, but he will." 
 
 There seemed no continuity of thought in Jupe's mind, 
 for presently, with true African lightness of heart, he 
 said, with a grin : 
 
 "Golly! golly! Mars'r Merriford, hit's a good day to
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 291 
 
 go fishin'." Meditatively, "Wonder how they'd bite in 
 the Kaw?" And as an afterthought, "Ef Coke Wren 
 comes up, tell him to go fishin' where I done told him to 
 last winter, and do it when the bitin' 's good." 
 
 The biting seemed to have been good that day, at least 
 Coke Wren thought so, for, with a day's lull in the Vin- 
 land Valley, Coke went fishing. 
 
 "I do believe, Patty, I'll take a little time off this 
 afternoon, ef I was sure we'd not have to turn our 
 cabin into a morgue again 'fore night. Seems like we '11 
 never have enough clean linen to cover that corner no 
 more." Coke pointed to the darkest, coolest corner of 
 the cabin, as if it were a shrine. 
 
 Patty looked across, reverently. 
 
 " Yes, Cokey, that 's the sacred place in this little 
 home, and we consecrate it to our martyred dead. Let 's 
 be thankful we had a place to shelter them martyrs an' 
 could give a grain of comfort to them pore widows an' 
 Mr. Nethercote." 
 
 "I am thankful, and likewise I'm most tuckered out. 
 I '11 do no good now till I git away by myself an' com 
 mune a little," and Coke's eyes glistened. 
 
 " Well, go fishin', Cokey. It '11 do your heart good as 
 well as both our stomachs. I wish Beth an' Elliot could 
 come over an' help eat your ketch," Patty said, as she 
 hustled about the cabin. " I see Elliot and Mark going 
 up the Trail yesterday. My, but them two boys is 
 broadened out an' heightened up in a year's time in 
 Kansas." 
 
 Then, as Patty's eye fell on her husband, sitting list 
 lessly in the doorway, she added, " Run along an' do your 
 fishin' while the bitin 's good." 
 
 And Coke obeyed. 
 
 Sauntering down the ravine, thinking of the events
 
 292 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 of the days wherein one woe not only did tread upon 
 another's heels, but woes went side by side with fellow 
 woes, Coke's mind ran on to Winthrop Merriford and to 
 the mystery surrounding his son Neil. As his eye 
 caught sight of a still place in the stream, the purpose of 
 his errand and his thought seemed to overlap, and the 
 little Yankee stood still, looking at the quiet water. 
 
 "He told me to do it an' I forgot, stupid, biled owl 
 that I am. The Hole in the Rock ! That 's where he told 
 me to go, the dumb, grinnin' Senegambian! That's 
 where I '11 go this blessed minute. Fer what? Why, fer 
 fish, of course. He wrote it the ' O ' in the Rock. Well, 
 a ' O ' is a hole, or there 's a hole in a ' O,' an' ef it 's the 
 Rock it 'mounts to the same thing." 
 
 Coke had hardly gotten out of sight, when a posse of 
 men, led by Sheriff Jones, came cutting the sod of the 
 little path to the cabin on the edge of the ravine. Patty 
 saw them through the window, and her heart stood still, 
 for she saw among them the same coward Bill who had 
 met her and Beth Lamond in the ravine near Lawrence on 
 the December morning. And with the memory of that 
 hour came the picture of Mrs. Nethercote with her baby, 
 now in the newest grave of the growing number in the 
 prafrie graveyard. She sprang behind the door, and, 
 lifting her hands in prayer, she murmured, quaintly : 
 
 " Dear Lord, ef You really meant it when You said 
 You'd cover us with Your feathers, and under Your 
 wings we could trust, cover me now what's got nary other 
 feather, nor Cokey to protect me. An' ef You did n't mean 
 it, Lord, make me a first-class martyr, a real, first-class 
 one, what 's not afraid ! " 
 
 Patty stepped to the open door and in her face was 
 that light which the world cannot give nor take away. 
 Sheriff Jones was in front, and beyond him were Buford,
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 293 
 
 Roxbury, and Colonel Penwin, with Jack Bobbs and a 
 half dozen more of his caste. 
 
 " Is Coke Wren here ? " Jones asked, gruffly. 
 
 " No, ma'am ! I mean, no, sir," Patty replied, meekly, 
 smoothing a wrinkle ironed into her clean apron. "We 
 ain't sowed nothin* yet but our garden stuff lettuce 
 an' " 
 
 " I said, is Coke Wren here? " Jones repeated, in even a 
 harsher tone. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir. Excuse me. I thought you was askin' 
 did we sow grain here. I'm a little deef. We hain't 
 had no rain here " 
 
 A third time the question was put, and Patty, under 
 standing now, said smilingly, " Oh, no, Mr. Wren ain't 
 here. Won't you come in and wait for him?" 
 
 Under her breath she murmured, " Oh, Lord, what a 
 bluffer I be! Forgive me, Lord, you know my hearin' 
 ain't real good." 
 
 "Where is your husband, madam?" Penwin asked in 
 a calm voice, and Patty heard clearly, for she answered, 
 though at random, " He 's gone fishin' down to the Hole 
 in the Rock." 
 
 Patty thought she was lying glibly. Penwin wheeled 
 his horse suddenly. 
 
 " Come on and get the others, Jones ; he '11 keep. We '11 
 see him later," he said, in a low voice. And for one as 
 deaf as Patty Wren, his words were quite distinctly com 
 prehended. 
 
 When they were away, scurrying toward the main 
 Trail, Patty stood questioning herself. " Shall I go hunt 
 for Cokey? No, I won't. The Good Bein' can take care 
 of him ef he 's worth carin' for, same as He does of me, 
 what ain't near as good and valuable as Cokey is. Men 
 depends a little too much on the women an' too little on
 
 294 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the Lord here in Kansas, sometimes. After this day, 
 Patty Wren, I'll never doubt the lovin' grace of the 
 Heavenly Father, an' I'll take what comes." 
 
 Meanwhile, Jones and his party rode furiously toward 
 the claim of David Lamond. In the woods out of sight, 
 Boniface Penwin halted. 
 
 " You go on and serve your writs, Jones," he said. 
 " I '11 wait for you here." 
 
 Jones would have protested, but Major Buford inter 
 fered with oaths that Penwin knew his business. David 
 Lamond was plowing long, clean furrows in the prairie 
 sod, watching the blossoms he must turn under and 
 thinking of Burns' mountain daisy and field mouse, when 
 he found himself surrounded by a group of armed bullies, 
 and Sheriff Jones was reading his writ of arrest on charge 
 of treason. The Scotchman set his teeth firmly as he 
 listened and found himself a prisoner. 
 
 " Jones," he said, when the reading was done, " by what 
 right do you call me a traitor and a prisoner? Where is 
 the Wakarusa treaty?" 
 
 "It's ended, by ." Jones' profanity was too vile 
 
 to set down. " It never was no treaty we meant to keep. 
 Soon as that coward of a Governor Shannon got sober, 
 he repudiated it. These writs are given to me by the 
 Governor himself. Every man who helped to get Bran 
 son away from me, and every tyrannical dog that 's ever 
 befriended Lawrence is going to rot in jail till they swing 
 from the tree nearest to the jail. Come on." 
 
 But Lamond stood firm. His yellow hair, damp from 
 his honest toil, and his sunny beard gleamed in the west 
 ern light. Something about him may have looked to the 
 group of ruffians as James Fitz- James appeared to the 
 outlaw Scots on Ben Ledi's mountainside, but Jones was 
 no Roderick Dhu.
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 295 
 
 " You dare not arrest me, Jones," the Scotchman said, 
 firmly. "You have no right." 
 
 "I have all the right and the law. The Governor of 
 Kansas and the military power at Washington, and Presi 
 dent Pierce are all back of me." And again Sheriff Jones 
 swore blasphemously. " Your day is done. Your hours 
 are as good as told off now. We'll teach you to flaunt 
 your Free-State notions in this country, you vile Abo 
 lition cur. Go on, men, tie him fast, and drag him along." 
 
 " I '11 go with you peaceably, not because you have any 
 right under heaven to take me, though," Lamond 
 answered back, defiantly. 
 
 "Tie him and drag him along," again the order was 
 given. But Jones had not reckoned with the blood of a 
 Scotchman. Lamond squared his shoulders and clinched 
 his brawny fists. Through his yellow beard his white 
 teeth gleamed dangerously. 
 
 "I'll go with you peaceably, I told you, because 
 you've got the vile pretense called law and the power 
 on your side. But I'll not be bound and I'll not be 
 dragged. If you want to try that game, come on and 
 try it now." 
 
 Nobody wanted to try it just then, and Bill, the coward 
 of the pack, slipping from his own lean horse, said: 
 
 "Here, Sheriff, take my horse, I'll take this one." 
 
 The man cut Pluto's traces at the word, and David 
 Lamond saw his big black horse stolen before his eyes, 
 and he was powerless to protest. 
 
 All this had happened out of sight of the stone home 
 stead, and Mrs. Lamond and Beth were unconscious of 
 the impending trouble. 
 
 The next man seized as a traitor was Hiram Darrow, 
 and, like Lamond, he had no recourse but to submit, and 
 no opportunity to see his family before he was hurried
 
 296 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 away. Along with other leading men of the Territory, 
 seized by other posses, the two were carried off to the 
 Lecompton jail, to await the force of legalized brutality 
 and outlaw vengeance. 
 
 As Jones and his band reached the bluff overlooking 
 the Vinland Valley, they met Craig Penwin in the Trail. 
 The proud young aristocrat would have passed them 
 quietly by had he not caught sight of Lamond's Pluto, 
 ridden by a ruffian whose face he remembered, and in 
 the next instant he saw Lamond himself a prisoner be 
 side Hiram Darrow. The horsemen paused on the brow 
 of the bluff while Sheriff Jones and Major Buford 
 together took the census of the settlement proscribed 
 for destruction. In this delay Craig walked straight to 
 the man astride the black horse. 
 
 "Get off that horse," he commanded. 
 
 "What's the row here?" Roxbury growled at this 
 impertinence. 
 
 But Buford, turning quickly and seeing Boniface Pen- 
 win's son, said: 
 
 " All right, Roxbury. Let that boy alone." 
 
 Roxbury swore, for that was the language of his clan, 
 but Craig, with cool indifference, led Pluto toward his 
 master. 
 
 " Is there any message I can take for you when I take 
 this horse home? " he asked, with that courtesy that from 
 a younger man always appeals to his elders. 
 
 David Lamond looked with gratitude at the young 
 Southerner. 
 
 " Thank you, Craig," he said, warmly. " Tell mother 
 not to worry nor be afraid. I '11 soon be back, I 'm sure. 
 
 And tell Beth " He hesitated. Maybe a weight of 
 
 remorse that was heavier than prisoner's bonds held him 
 back a little before he spoke. "Tell Beth, that what-
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 297 
 
 ever happens to me until I see her again, I shall hold 
 her to her promise. She will understand." 
 
 And Craig thought he also understood. The crowd 
 started down the winding hidden way of the Trail toward 
 the open slope and the ravine, while Craig, with the 
 big shining black horse hastened toward the home of 
 Elizabeth Lamond. 
 
 Although Hiram Darrow had stood beside his neigh 
 bor, Craig had offered no word of comfort or assistance 
 to him. When Lamond noted this afterward, Darrow 
 said, serenely: 
 
 "It is no matter. Craig Penwin will need my family 
 more than they will ever need him." 
 
 And the words, forgotten by the speaker, rankled in 
 the honest Scotchman's mind for many hours. 
 
 At the shadiest bend of the Trail, Boniface Penwin 
 stood beside the vine-draped shelving rock; the same ro 
 mantic, picturesque nook where on a golden Sabbath day 
 the heavens had opened for Beth and Elliot and showed 
 them love's young dream made real. The colonel joined 
 the men for whom he had been waiting in hiding here. 
 
 " Such a father and such a son," Lamond thought, as 
 he looked at the colonel. Then, as he looked at Darrow, 
 he wondered why Craig could not have been the Quaker's 
 boy and Elliot born a Penwin. It would have suited the 
 Scotchman better so. 
 
 Patty Wren had a wonderful story to tell when her 
 husband came trotting home from his fishing. 
 
 "What all did you ketch, Coke?" she asked, when she 
 had finished her tale. 
 
 "Ketched a cold, an* a touch of the rheumatiz, an* 
 something here, I'll show you later ef you're a good 
 girl, an* say ' please,' " he added, grinning. " But I did n't
 
 298 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 git ketched myself none, so's you could sense it about 
 me. I was down at the Hole in the Rock." 
 
 "Is they real fishin' there, or did I jest happen to hit 
 the truth, accidental providential?" Patty asked. 
 
 " Yes, some kinds," Wren replied. " I was there, any 
 how, right by the Trail crossin', fishin', when the look of 
 the water on the fur side ketched my eye. I took my 
 line over an' set it there, an' with a stick I tried the 
 depth where the water by the edge looked different. A 
 little shelf sticks out about a foot down, an' a foot or 
 more wide, an' then the whole thing drops down thirty 
 feet to the bottom. It was on this shelf I was feeling 
 careful with my stick. It had a limb broke off, making 
 a kind of a hook on the end, an' I felt something loose. 
 I raked it out. It 's in the bucket here, where there ain't 
 no fish. I '11 tell you why." 
 
 Patty restrained her curiosity to peep in the bucket, 
 and Coke continued: 
 
 "I was just goin' to punch around again when I hear 
 horses, an' swearin'. You know what that means, Patty 
 Wren. Down the Trail Sheriff Jones comes dashin' with 
 a posse of men an' two prisoners, Hiram Darrow, an' 
 David Lamond. I slid into the brush back of the pool 
 quick, as I heard 'em cussin' my name proper. One of 
 them they call Roxbury says, ' Let 's stop right now an' 
 git this eighteen er twenty dashes Yankee, an' 
 we'll have all of that Branson crowd from this corner.' 
 I know'd then they 'd broke the Wakarusa treaty an' was 
 a brandin' us for treason." 
 
 "But they didn't git you, did they, Cokey?" Patty 
 asked, anxiously. 
 
 " Do I look like I was on my way to Lecompton to 
 jail with a posse of ruffians, or am I settin' on the banks
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 299 
 
 of the Wakaroosy eatin' cocoanuts?" Coke asked, with 
 a grin. 
 
 "You're playing the fool much as the Good Bein"ll 
 let you, wherever you are." Patty stroked Coke's hand 
 gently and her tone was more affectionate than her 
 words. " Thank the Lord, they did n't git you. How 'd 
 you keep out of their claws?" 
 
 "I laid low and turned green, just the color of the 
 bushes, an' Boniface Penwin, ridin' next the Hole, seemed 
 to ketch sight of my cork bobbin' in the water, and he 
 just hurries the whole pack on. That's how. Now, 
 let's look at the bucket." 
 
 And the two examined Coke's catch intently. The 
 next morning Coke and catch were hurrying toward 
 Lawrence with all speed. But Winthrop Merriford, 
 under indictment for treason against the laws of the Ter 
 ritory, was in a crowded jail in Lecompton with a 
 strange mixture of lawless wretches and high-minded 
 gentlemen. And the reign of terror was almost to its 
 flood tide of misrule and misery. 
 
 Down in the Vinland Valley, two homes, left father 
 less for the time, were full of anxiety. Craig Penwin 
 took Lamond's black horse to its stable and Lamond's 
 messages to the wife and daughter. He gave them 
 cordially and carefully, but he let Beth know how far 
 he understood her father's wishes in his message to 
 her. Then, with the assurance that he would serve 
 them gladly, if they would permit him, he left them. 
 
 Strangely enough, it was through Boniface Penwin's 
 household that the Darrow family first knew of the 
 father's forcible seizure. Lucy and Tarley, almost as 
 defiant in these days as Craig himself, had decided to 
 visit Joe. Mark was such a man now that Lucy had 
 lost the freedom she once felt with him. The two had
 
 300 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 come out on the bluff in time to see Jones and his pris 
 oners on the slope between the wood and the ravine, and 
 they had recognized their neighbors with their father 
 and Buford, whom they had come to know well. Indig 
 nant and grieving, they hurried to meet Isabel Darrow, 
 and tell her what they had seen. 
 
 The April day was ending in the Vinland Valley, and 
 all the gentle voices of the evening were calling in their 
 soft, insistent tones to note the dewy sweetness of the 
 time. The peace of night was falling over all the land 
 where troubled hearts, and lonely hearthstones, and 
 anxious fear prevailed in bitter contrast to the wooing 
 spirit of the quiet beauty of the April twilight. 
 
 Beth Lamond came to the little stone porch and 
 looked wistfully out at the shadowy prairies and the 
 silver scimitar of the new moon gleaming in the west 
 ern heavens. Loneliness, sorrow, and dread filled her 
 young soul as she saw the beauty about her that she 
 could not enjoy. And above everything else was there 
 a longing in her heart for the presence of her lover. 
 
 "And I have promised papa that I will have nothing to 
 do with Elliot until papa has had time to talk with me. 
 And now he is carried away. Dear papa ! Dear papa ! " 
 Beth wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to be 
 brave, but her heart was heavy. 
 
 The tender young leaves on the vines about the porch 
 pillars recalled the night in October when they had been 
 waiting the autumn frosts, and Elliot had kissed her here 
 in the moonlight. Why should she want so much to 
 see him to-night, when he must not come to her? She 
 looked down the trail winding away to the main high 
 way hidden by the wood. In the gloaming Elliot Dar-
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 301 
 
 row came striding along the path with step as firm and 
 free as if no weight could burden him. 
 
 "I couldn't stay away," he said, as Beth sprang for 
 ward to meet him. 
 
 He took both of her hands in his and held them 
 close, while he looked down into her eager, yet sorrowful, 
 face. 
 
 "I have little real fear for our fathers, Beth. They 
 will have to put up with many things ; but, Beth," and 
 Elliot gently lifted her face between his hands "dear 
 girl, why have we been taught all these years to say the 
 Twenty-third Psalm, if in the days of strife and fear, 
 goodness and mercy are not going to follow us? My 
 mother never seemed so wonderful to me as she did 
 to-night at supper, when she read the Bible to us boys. 
 'Fret not thyself because of evil-doers.' That was the 
 Psalm she read." 
 
 How strong and fearless he seemed ! How sure of the 
 future, and of himself ! 
 
 "But Elliot, I must tell you something," Beth said, 
 sadly. 
 
 They sat down together on the stone step, and, in spite 
 of the times, the loveliness of the April evening was 
 appealing to both. Elliot drew Beth's hand through his 
 arm and held it there. 
 
 "Tell me anything you want to, dearie," he mur 
 mured. 
 
 Beth needed all her bravery then. 
 
 "Elliot, I told papa something." 
 
 " Yes, I meant to do it first, but no matter." 
 
 "But it does matter." Beth's voice faltered. "Papa 
 asked me last night as we sat out here if you had ever 
 
 ever " 
 
 "Yes, Beth, and I had," Elliot helped her, smilingly.
 
 302 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "Had said anything you oughtn't say to me." 
 
 "Well, I don't know about that," the young Quaker 
 began. But Beth went on: 
 
 " I told him the truth, and he said " The golden 
 head was bending now, and the gray eyes were luminous 
 with tears. Elliot put his arm about her, and drew her 
 close to him. 
 
 " Yes, dearie," he said. " I was a coward and a sham 
 of a man, good enough to look at if nobody else was 
 around, but without the stamina a young man in the 
 West must have " 
 
 " Oh, no, not all of that, Elliot. But I promised him, 
 for he begged me to, not to have anything more to do 
 with you until he had talked with me; promised him 
 solemnly and faithfully." 
 
 The young man had dropped her hand and sat with 
 folded arms looking out at the last soft light playing 
 in from the west. In the twilight his face seemed never 
 so strong and handsome as now. 
 
 "Craig Penwin got Pluto away from the gang and 
 brought him home, and papa sent me word by Craig that 
 whatever happens, he holds me to my promise until 
 he sees me again; my promise not to see you nor have 
 anything more to do with you," Beth said, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "When does that court convene up at Lecompton to 
 try those traitors?" Elliot asked, in a changed voice. 
 
 " Don't blame me, Elliot," Beth said, pleadingly. 
 
 "I couldn't do that, dearie," Elliot said, gently, but 
 his arms were still folded tightly. "And I will not 
 make you unhappy by being where you must see me 
 unnecessarily, and so embarrass you." 
 
 In that moment Beth would have broken all pledges 
 to her father for the sake of keeping Elliot near her, had 
 he asked her to do it. But he did not ask her.
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 303 
 
 " Your father is right. He wants to do his own way, 
 and I have no right to object. I give up all claim to 
 you here and now until you and your father understand 
 each other." 
 
 There was a clear ring in his voice Beth had never 
 heard before, and the vision of Rosalind came unbidden 
 to her again as it had done twice already. They were 
 standing now facing each other. 
 
 " But one thing I promise you here," Elliot said, firmly. 
 " I shall keep as far from you as the limits of Kansas will 
 permit. Your father up at the Lecompton jail need 
 not fear my taking any advantage of his absence. I'll 
 leave you as free as if I had never known you " he was 
 looking straight at her with a wonderful light in his 
 dark eyes " until the moment when you need help and 
 protection. I shall be so near then that all the Lamonds 
 of the clan, through all the generations, could not pre 
 vent my serving you if you need me." 
 
 Elizabeth lifted her beautiful face to his and her eyes 
 were full of pleading. 
 
 " I need you now," she murmured. And Elliot folded 
 her in his arms and held her close, and kissed her fore 
 head, and softly caressed the golden hair rippling about 
 it. Then he gently put her aside. 
 
 "I'm going now, and I also shall keep my word to 
 you, as you must to your father. But, Beth, my dear, 
 dear girl," he said, softly, " I have a locket still." 
 
 " And I have the chain. Good-by." 
 
 The young Quaker walked down the Trail into the 
 gathering darkness. The fair Scotch lassie watched him 
 till the shadows enveloped him. And, for two young 
 pioneers at least, the reign of terror in Kansas was 
 checkered through with a steadfast beautiful faith. 
 
 Elliot did not loiter on his homeward way, but took
 
 304 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 the straight line across the prairie toward the dark point 
 against the eastern sky that he knew was Mark's Dar- 
 rarat. As he passed into the draw, where he had found 
 the Indian blanket on the night of Branson's rescue, he 
 stopped long enough to look again under the little rock 
 shelf where he had thrust it. 
 
 "I had forgotten ever to hunt for the rest of that 
 Indian's wardrobe," he thought. " What a busy life we 
 are leading here! I suppose that blanket rotted in the 
 snows last winter." 
 
 The clear starlight revealed the little black shadow 
 cast by the stone outcrop, and beside it a low mound of 
 earth showed the outline of an unmarked grave. The 
 spring grasses were growing on it, so it could not have 
 been made since the snows melted. And Elliot wondered 
 sadly what name was lost under that little heap of prairie 
 soil. 
 
 The next night, a bullet out of the dark wounded 
 Sheriff Jones seriously, but not dangerously. At once 
 the Lawrence men, whom Jones would have driven out 
 by all violence, denounced and hunted for the man who 
 had fired upon their enemy. So strong as yet was the 
 conservative policy of non-resistance! 
 
 But Jones' party claimed now excuse for the maddest 
 frenzy. From every hilltop they blared the news that 
 Kansas was in control of bloody Abolitionist assassins. 
 Their cry reached to the Atlantic seaboard and all the 
 crimes of their own commission, the loot, and burning, 
 and outrage, and murder, they blazoned on banners and 
 charged them all to the men who had endured, and re 
 sisted, only to defend their lives and their sacred right 
 to freedom of belief. Again the forces, who came with 
 swords, but never with plowshares, swept into Kansas, 
 and the deluge of fire and slaughter reached the crest 
 of its flood tide and hung there.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 
 
 Lawrence, the city where the plunderer feasted at the hos 
 pitable table, and, Judas-like, went out to betray it, will come 
 forth from its early burial clothed with yet more exceeding 
 beauty. Out of its charred and blood-stained ruins, where the 
 flag of rapine floated, will spring the high walls and strong 
 parapets of freedom. 
 
 Sara T. D. Robinson, 1856. 
 
 MAY came in its appointed time. In Kansas, the 
 month of wild-roses, and odorous verbenas; the 
 month of deep blue skies, and snowy-white, silken-soft 
 cumulous clouds ; the month of balmy air, of golden noon 
 tides, and crystal-clear, star-gemmed nights; the month 
 of bird's song and sweet- voiced zephyrs; the month of 
 growing things the mother-month of all exquisite 
 loveliness. 
 
 Amid all this beauty, the Kansas prairies fainted under 
 the hoof-beats of war steeds on the springing sod. The 
 deep stain upon the wayside shamed the dainty hue of the 
 wild-rose. The smell of putrid decay overcame the per 
 fume of the verbena. Against the blue dome by day, the 
 smoke of burning pioneer homes poured up black and 
 ugly, and the crystal skies of evening were lighted by 
 the torches of a plundering band. The song of the birds 
 was drowned by the scream of terror or wail of anguish, 
 and where growing grain should have been storing up 
 food for coming harvests, untilled furrows gave culture 
 only to the idle weeds. With the perspective of half a 
 
 305
 
 306 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 century turned on those lays, the story of their peril 
 and power seems only as a tale that is told. 
 
 In the "prairie bastile" at Lecompton the leaders of 
 Free State settlement languished through all this glo 
 rious Maytime. Some were in log prisons, crowded, 
 filthy, and, by the words and deeds of their cruel jailors, 
 made unspeakably vile. Some were held in guarded 
 tents, damp and cold at night, hot and uncomfortable 
 by day. And everywhere, by day and by night, drunken 
 ness, blasphemy, brutality, threats, jeers, and the flaunt 
 ing of unjust and a seemingly unbreakable power made 
 strong men sick at heart. For men who had been guilty 
 of no crime save the crime of humanity, men who in all 
 civil law were citizens of that sterling worth that makes 
 a state invincible, such men were held at Lecompton on 
 charge of treason, and were in all ways given the traitor's 
 courtesy; while Lawrence and the larger settlements, 
 robbed now of their leading minds, were left to such 
 mercy as these prairie pirates possessed. 
 
 Every day of their imprisonment David Lamond's 
 regard for Hiram Darrow grew. The Quaker was gentle 
 with a modesty that made him appear timid. Yet over 
 and over in the days of waiting for their trial in court, 
 when fighting men were broken in spirit and ready to 
 submit, Darrow was serenely patient. In the presence 
 of danger he was utterly fearless, and he exercised the 
 right to say what he chose, whenever it pleased him to 
 do it. Lamond himself was not cowardly nor despond 
 ent, and Darrow's comradeship was a joy to him. 
 
 Yet the resentment against the Quaker's son did not 
 lessen in the Scotchman's heart with this growing friend 
 ship for the father, because he was a man of such firm 
 convictions that he hated to reverse himself in his own 
 judgments. Also he did not go far enough back to find
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 307 
 
 out that the real beginning of his resentment was with 
 the discovery that some day the daughter whom he idol 
 ized would share her love with someone other than her 
 father. He did not realize that his resentment would 
 have been the same at first toward any other young man. 
 And, having once made up his mind, the same tenacity 
 that held him loyal to the flag of his country held him 
 set in the declaration that Elliot Darrow was a weak, 
 good-looking, smooth-spoken, cowardly young man, 
 lacking that glorious courage that made a man a hero 
 to a follower of Wallace and Bruce. With this close 
 companionship with Hiram Darrow, David Lamond saw 
 daily how the same gentle but unbreakable spirit of the 
 father was reflected in the son, and he resented it. That 
 was all. And without his blessing Beth should never 
 marry anybody. That settled things. 
 
 And Elliot? He kept his word to Beth, that she might 
 keep hers to her father more easily. He knew the 
 strength of her mind too well to believe she would be 
 untrue to her promise to her father. 
 
 "It is an accidental thing that she must wait and I 
 must wait," he said to himself. " But it will come out 
 right after a while." 
 
 He schooled himself to patience by hard work, and 
 even then he found his battle a fierce one. For love and 
 youth are tyrannical in their demands. 
 
 Craig Penwin came and went with a freedom that was 
 galling to the young Quaker exiled a field away, and 
 Craig would have been jubilant had he known how much 
 his coming did to lighten the hours for Beth. 
 
 With Coke Wren, Elliot and Mark worked on the 
 Lamond claim, as well as on their own, helping to keep 
 the spring crops growing for their neighbor; and they 
 had little time for resting.
 
 308 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 The trails were unsafe for travel now, and only as 
 Craig accompanied her did Beth venture far from home. 
 
 As Elliot followed the plow down the long furrow 
 one afternoon, he saw the two starting away together 
 down the path to the highway. 
 
 " If they walk at that pace, I '11 meet them at the end 
 of the corn row," he thought. " I can plow her father's 
 corn why can't I speak to her, at least? I'll stop in 
 the shade of that cottonwood tree and wait for them." 
 
 He was hungering for one look from her gray eyes, 
 and he told himself he was not jealous of Craig. But 
 the two quickened their pace and were out of range 
 before he had come to the end of the field. Elliot stopped 
 his plow by the cottonwood long enough to look after 
 them. His eyes were keener than most eyes are, and he 
 saw, even so far away, all the little tricks by which Craig 
 was making the hour pleasant for his companion, con 
 scious the while that a sturdy plowman was watching 
 him. How could he know that Beth's heart was as 
 hungry as his own for one look from those wonderful 
 dark eyes, and one smile, so cordial and happy always? 
 
 When the two came back, late in the afternoon, there 
 was a buggy under the cottonwood tree, and Rosalind 
 St. Felix, in a pretty pink gingham dress and white chip 
 hat, was chatting with the tall young plowman. Her 
 dark face was radiant, and Elliot was smiling down upon 
 her as they talked together. Dr. St. Felix came from 
 the stone cabin as Craig and Beth approached, and Elliot, 
 with a nod to the two, and without seeming to see Beth 
 directly, smiled a goodby upon the dainty little lady 
 in the buggy and strode along the up-furrow after 
 Pluto. 
 
 " I came to see Mr. Darrow about some analyses I 'm 
 writing out for him, and he wasn't at home, so I came
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 309 
 
 on here," Rosalind explained. "Isn't it grand of him 
 to do your father's work?" 
 
 "Did he say he thought it was grand?" Craig asked. 
 He had seen the longing look on Beth's face, and he 
 was bitterly jealous and off his guard. 
 
 "Elliot? Oh, no. When I said as much to him, he 
 laughed, and said he owned this field that it was Mr. 
 Wren who was doing Mr. Lamond's work. But I knew 
 better. I can tell when he is telling me a story." 
 
 "I wish I could," Beth thought. 
 
 And Craig, still angry at the world, exclaimed, but 
 smoothly now, "Why shouldn't he plow? It's his line 
 of work. He won't let the niggers do it. It's their 
 work or his." And Craig looked so like a gentleman 
 one could scarcely resent his sentiments. 
 
 But Beth, looking up-field, heard a sweet voice singing 
 soft and clear, like the low notes of a bird's song: 
 
 I also dreamt, which pleased me most, 
 That you loved me still the same. 
 
 And Craig could not have told what she thought. 
 
 That night the proscription in the Vinland Valley 
 was executed, and when the sun rose on the next morn 
 ing every Free State man's house was in ashes, save the 
 log house on the hill, among the evergreens, and the 
 cabin that sheltered Elizabeth Lamond. 
 
 The blow fell hardest upon the Wrens. 
 
 "'Cause we stand most anything," Patty explained 
 afterward. 
 
 Early in the evening, a writ of treason was executed 
 on the Yankee, and the ninety-pound little man was 
 rushed off as a dangerous enemy to the State. 
 
 " Compliment to Cokey," Patty declared. " Treatin' a
 
 310 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 little sparrer-hawk like he was big as a anacondor of 
 South America, ' the largest bird that flies,' the joggerfy 
 used to say. ' Measurin' sometimes four feet from tip to 
 tip.' Coke don't measure but five feet three from beak 
 to feet, an* he 's got no more width 'n a sword-fish." 
 
 Patty proved her right to live in the West that night, 
 if proof were needed. Sorrowful and anxious, but hoping 
 still, she had cuddled down at a late hour, alone in her 
 cabin. She had just fallen asleep when she was wakened 
 with a start. A voice seemed to whisper, "Wake up, 
 quick ! Wake up, quick ! " She sat up and stared about. 
 Something slipped out of the back door like a dog and 
 was gone. Voices and horses' feet she could hear coming 
 nearer, and presently, amid much swearing and drunken 
 laughter, the words : 
 
 "Burn the cabin! Drive out the woman and shoot 
 her!" 
 
 "That's me!" Patty could think quickly. "I ain't 
 goin' to be shot at, an' I ain't goin' to be driv. Where 's 
 that thorny locus' tree? I '11 take a piller this time. 
 
 She was groping in the dark for the little box of 
 precious keepsakes they kept ready for such an emer 
 gency as this. Then with her heavy woolen shawl she 
 grasped a fat feather pillow and out of the back door she 
 flew. As the ruffians with much noise were bursting in 
 the front door the little Yankee was scudding up the 
 ravine to where a thick little locust grew half-way down 
 its side. 
 
 " You dear little nest," Patty said, deftly keeping the 
 shawl as a shield from its unwelcoming thorns. "I 
 brought up a piller to set on this time. It's my annual 
 roostin* spree here. Now, you wicked old heathen, burn 
 away ! There '11 be trees growin' here to make beautiful 
 homes when you yourselves are only ashes alongside your
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 311 
 
 old firebrands. You may burn up their houses, but you 
 can't burn up the spirit of Kansas. You may set your 
 fires to destroy Freedom an' Liberty, but the blood an' 
 tears of martyrs puts out your fires until the time comes 
 when they ain't no more hands dares light a burnin* 
 brand against 'em, and in peace and beauty they stand 
 eternal. An' in that Kansas I'm goin' to be livin', if I 
 have to roost for a dozen years. It's lots comfortabler 
 this year. I've got a piller to set on. Next year I'll 
 bring my knittin' ! 
 
 " Hard to make that chimney go, hain't it ? Never did 
 draw very well. I see now how it's built wrong. I'll 
 tell Cokey not to put such a deep throat in the next one. 
 Live an' learn. Them rascals is doin' me a real favor." 
 
 So Patty philosophized as she watched her burning 
 cabin, safe herself from flame or sight of her enemies. 
 
 That which wakened Patty so easily for she slept 
 like a bird, with one eye open had a harder time at 
 the Darrow home. The boys, wearied from working all 
 day in the fields, slept like dead men, and Isabel was 
 always a sound sleeper. From door to window, and 
 from window to door, a form crept, rapping softly but 
 insistently, until at length, stopping at the corner of the 
 house, it suddenly climbed swiftly to the roof by the 
 log angle, and down through the Darrarat it dived 
 inside. A minute later, Elliot, shaken wide awake, saw 
 White Turkey bending over him. He had no time to 
 shake off the deadness that sound sleep hangs on mind 
 and muscle, for the Indian pulled him out of bed with 
 vim. 
 
 "Get up quick. Buford's men come; burn cabin; 
 get up!" 
 
 Elliot grasped the situation, and the household roused 
 itself for action. When the crowd of midnight raiders
 
 312 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 reached the Darrow home, Boniface Penwin, who hitherto 
 had shown them the way, left them. 
 
 " Whatever you do, get the biggest one there. Don't 
 let him escape." This had been his urgent command. 
 
 The men were very drunk now and had no mind to 
 let anybody escape as they came in a mad gallop to the 
 evergreen - sheltered cabin. White Turkey, who was 
 armed, wanted to open fire at once, but Elliot held him 
 back. 
 
 "No, White Turkey," he said; "we'll defend, not 
 attack." 
 
 And the Indian, muttering something about " Heap 
 big fool," obeyed. 
 
 As the crowd reached the house and leaped from their 
 horses, the door suddenly opened, with a cry of " Halt ! " 
 And Elliot stood outlined in the gloom. At the same 
 moment a gun-barrel in the hands of White Turkey 
 gleamed in the dim light. 
 
 The men fell back a pace, and one of them shouted 
 drunkenly, "We've come to burn your house and kill 
 the biggest one, and we're goin' to do it. Go ahead." 
 
 There were six of them, the same half-dozen that Elliot 
 had met at the Nethercote home. Mark and the Indian 
 were out now. Three against six! But the three were 
 sober and the six were drunk. Before they had time to 
 go ahead, the three were upon them. Bill, the coward, 
 seized his horse and escaped. But the suddenness of 
 this resistance, where they had expected only pleadings 
 for mercy, so surprised them that a hand-to-hand battle 
 was on before they knew it. 
 
 A stroke from Elliot's fist sent his first assailant stag 
 gering out of the line, and three contended with three, 
 blow against blow. The men were all-round fighters, 
 although they were handier with their firearms than
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 313 
 
 with their fists, and they had the stimulus that whisky 
 puts into the nerves for the time. But they lacked the 
 cleverness of clear brains, and they were not fighting for 
 a home and a mother's life and honor. 
 
 The Darrow boys, good Quakers that they were, struck 
 out with all the skill and agility of youth, and their blows 
 had the steel spring behind them that gave them terrific 
 force. They fought, too, as young men, more daring 
 and fearless than older men would have done. They did 
 not lose self-control for a minute, and back of everything 
 else was their sense of their right to fight and their 
 willingness to struggle to the last for their beautiful 
 Quaker mother, their little brother, and the home that 
 was theirs to defend. So they wrestled with the strength 
 of heroes, never doubting that they could win. 
 
 The Indian fought like an Indian, with his gun for a 
 club, and White Turkey was a terror in his anger. He 
 beat off the man against him and managed to club back 
 both his own assailants and the one whom Elliot had 
 thrown out at first. But two were all he could care for, 
 and the boys had to decide their own conflicts. 
 
 As the sixth man rushed upon the others struggling 
 together in the dark, a strong hand caught his arm, a 
 woman's hand, but he never knew that. It clung with 
 a grip of steel, and in his effort to shake himself free he 
 plunged headlong into the nagging, unfriendly evergreen 
 branches and fell. Before he was free the struggle was 
 over, and the men who came to burn and to kill the 
 " biggest one " were on their horses again, plunging into 
 the night. 
 
 "Battle of Darrow Hill! Enemy repulsed with great 
 slaughter!" Mark began. But Elliot was not jubilant. 
 
 " Come, White Turkey ; we must run across the prairie 
 to Lamond's," he said.
 
 314 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 " Me not." The Indian shook his head. 
 
 "Why not?" Elliot asked. 
 
 " No need. Penwin say every house, one, two, three, 
 four, five, burn. Stone house, six, not burn." 
 
 " Lamond's is the only stone house. He spares that. 
 I know why," Elliot said. " But Penwin is n't with that 
 crew, and they are drunk. They failed here. They might 
 go there. Come on." 
 
 So, against the Indian's judgment, they hurried with all 
 speed toward the Lamond home. And there was need 
 for speed. The coward of the pack rode away to Buford's 
 camp. The man whom White Turkey had clubbed back 
 was sobered and knew when he had had enough. But 
 the other four were furious over the repulse on the hill. 
 
 "We was to do five; come on! There's the stone 
 house left," the leader argued. 
 
 " We was to let that alone," one of the men objected. 
 He had already almost scratched out both his eyes in the 
 snarly cedars, and he was in no hurry to scratch them in 
 again. 
 
 "We was to git five; we've only got four," the first 
 insisted. 
 
 The result of much parleying was that three rode on 
 to Lamond's and three straggled off toward their camp. 
 
 In the dead hour of the night, Mrs. Lamond and her 
 daughter were wakened by shouts and blows upon the 
 door. A glare filled the place, and in its blinding light a 
 black horse ran by as only a frightened horse can run. 
 
 "They are burning the stable, mother. There goes 
 Pluto," Beth said. 
 
 A volley of bullets struck the stone walls, and the 
 command, " Come out ! Come out ! " was repeated. 
 
 "There are three of them; I can see their shadows,"
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 315 
 
 and Beth and her mother crouched into the farthest 
 corner of the room. 
 
 Another burst of blasphemy, and then came a shout 
 louder than their vile words, and the voice Beth knew. 
 
 "Oh, mother, mother. There is Elliot!" Beth cried. 
 " He said he would come when we needed him." 
 
 Outside a second battle was on. This time it was 
 Elliot who had two assailants, while one of the men 
 whom the Indian had held back before was ready for 
 him now. Again the Quaker fought, this time for the 
 girl he loved. His muscles played like magic, for now 
 the tiger in him was aroused and he fought to kill, and 
 knew he could do it. This battle was a fierce one, waged 
 in the glare of the burning buildings, silently, swiftly, 
 revengefully. The men were beyond the window by the 
 stone porch now, and Beth with terrified eyes saw Elliot 
 in all the strife. Even as her heart stood still with fear, 
 she thought of her father, who had called the boy a 
 pretty cowardly weakling, looking out for his own safety 
 first. 
 
 The strife was over soon. A terrific blow sent one big 
 fellow limp and groping toward his horse. A second like 
 it, and the other one was begging for mercy. In another 
 minute the midnight raiders were glad of the chance to 
 get away. 
 
 Elliot would have stopped outside the door, but Mrs. 
 Lamond pulled him in to where in the dim light she and 
 her daughter stood trembling in the gloom. 
 
 "I knew you needed me, or I would not have come, 
 and I promised you I 'd do that," Elliot said. 
 
 In the dark Beth gently guided his hand to where his 
 fingers just touched the little chain at her throat a 
 touch, and she dropped the hand quickly. He stooped 
 and whispered low:
 
 316 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Some battles are harder to fight than these midnight 
 skirmishes with Buford's men. I'm a bigger coward 
 than I thought I was." 
 
 As the two men crossed the shallow draw on their way 
 to the Darrow cabin, Elliot remembered the blanket and 
 the grave. 
 
 "Say, White Turkey, who do you suppose is buried 
 there?" he asked. 
 
 "Me not suppose, me know," White Turkey replied. 
 
 "You do? How did you find out?" Elliot asked, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Me put him there," the Indian said sternly. " Me 
 help do it. Shut up." 
 
 And Elliot said no more, for he knew when White 
 Turkey had reached his limit of speech. 
 
 There was but one purpose back of all the events of 
 these May days and nights: to strangle the spirit of 
 Freedom in the West, that an empire founded on human 
 slavery should grow strong and rich and cruelly tyran 
 nous upon the fertile Kansas prairies. Hence all this 
 pillage, and burning, and midnight assassination, and 
 treason charges that crammed the jails of Leavenworth 
 and Lecompton, and the widespread, untrue alarms to 
 the effect that the Free State folk were in rebellion, 
 demanding large bodies of soldiers to subdue. And 
 constantly as from the beginning came the cry that 
 Lawrence must be destroyed! 
 
 By the middle of May the countryside was terrorized. 
 Homes were in ashes. Crops were untilled, blood-stained 
 tragedies had broken families, and most of the leading 
 men were imprisoned. Then the blow fell. 
 
 Along the old Santa Fe Trail, and up the Wakarusa 
 Valley, and across the broken country north of the Kaw 
 River, came bands of brutal-looking horsemen, scurrying
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 317 
 
 from the border at command of sheriff and governor, 
 and because they lusted for these things themselves. 
 Large of frame these men were, with coarse, unshaven 
 faces, and savage looks, and blasphemous words. They 
 wore red flannel shirts and big boots outside their 
 trousers. They carried rifles, and revolvers, and bowie- 
 knives, and cutlasses; and to them human life was as 
 cheap as the wastes of sand along the low borders of the 
 muddy Missouri River. 
 
 Lawrence must be destroyed! 
 
 To these men and kindred souls under Buford and 
 Roxbury, the work was entrusted. 
 
 Why must a city be destroyed against which no sin 
 could be charged in all the catalog of civil and military 
 sins? In the historical record the declaration is fixed 
 for all generations to read. Its command was that the 
 arms of the Lawrence citizens must be given up, and 
 that complete destruction must fall upon the Eldridge 
 House, as a rallying place for Free State citizens, and 
 owned by Free State proprietors; together with Free 
 State printing presses, because they spoke for Freedom. 
 And in the same historical record for history is piti 
 lessly cold to the shame the after years would hide in 
 the same record is the reason Governor Shannon gave 
 for consenting to what he could have prevented. 
 
 He said, "Because the South Carolinians will not be 
 satisfied." 
 
 And to satisfy these South Carolinians he held the 
 coats for the stoning of the martyr town. 
 
 The morning dawned brilliantly clear and beautiful. 
 Down in the Vinland Valley the May sunshine poured 
 out its radiance equally on green prairie grasses and 
 dark leafy woodland, and on scattered household belong 
 ings, and smoldering heaps of ashes that last evening
 
 318 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 were sheltering homesteads. Up on Mount Oread, above 
 Lawrence, hordes of men were marshalled. They carried 
 government arms and authority, with or without oppo 
 sition, to destroy the doomed town. Their portraits will 
 never adorn a hall of fame, and their acts that day leave 
 a trail of black slime oozing after their names in per 
 petual disgrace down all the years that follow. But on 
 this day they had "their little hour of strut and rave," 
 and there was much hurrying of steeds to and fro; 
 much priming of muskets and clanking of sabres; and 
 threats, and maledictions; much instruction to show no 
 quarter to resistance ; much talk of gallantry to the ladies, 
 unless they should have arms. In that event, to trample 
 them down like snakes. 
 
 The sweet breezes of the May morning played about 
 the brow of Mount Oread. The songbirds sang never 
 more joyously, and the perfume of May blossoms filled 
 the air; while far away to the horizon's bound on every 
 side the landscape unrolled in a grandeur no artist will 
 ever copy. From the lips of the mongrel company came 
 blasphemy and ribald songs; and, black with smoke of 
 powder, the cannon frowned like a living part of the 
 thing that day to be wrought out. Governor Robinson's 
 home, a sacred possession in law, was seized for a head 
 quarters for the leaders. And the hours sped along. 
 
 Down in Lawrence, under the shadow of all this 
 bravery, quiet reigned. The men who would have mar 
 shalled forces for defence were hemmed in at Lecomp- 
 ton. Men who would have followed leaders were in 
 hiding for their lives or, in anger and disgust, had left 
 the town, or, having no other recourse, were attending 
 to their own affairs. Firearms, their own property, were 
 hidden safely away. The cannon brought in during the 
 Wakarusa War was buried underground. No intention
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 319 
 
 of resistance existed, for everybody knew that resistance 
 was hopeless. Forty-eight hours before, murder most 
 foul had fallen upon two young men almost within sight 
 of town. No charge of crime, no moment's warning, 
 martyred in the bloom of young manhood as the Christ 
 crucified upon the cross because they believed in 
 human liberty. Nobody in Lawrence could forecast 
 how many more victims the day would ask of them, 
 since no man's life was safe. 
 
 And yet, amid all these things, there was no fear in 
 the little town, because the men who came to Kansas 
 in those days for Freedom's sake left fear behind them. 
 
 "All quiet in Lawrence," the runners reported to the 
 five hundred men on Mount Oread, who planted a cannon 
 on the brow of the height overlooking the town. 
 
 A few arrests were made by the United States Marshal, 
 and then to Sheriff Jones it was given to work his will. 
 And it was a great day for Jones. Lawrence had re 
 sisted and outgeneraled him for a twelvemonth. Now it 
 lay at his mercy. 
 
 Early that morning, Elliot Darrow, leaving White 
 Turkey with Mark at home, had ridden up to Lawrence 
 for supplies for the burned-out neighborhood. Much 
 anxiety was felt in the Vinland Valley for him, for no 
 highway was safe now. But Elliot had no fear for him 
 self, and, as he rode along, his fingers seemed to feel the 
 momentary touch on Beth's throat and the little gold 
 chain upon it. 
 
 The Eldridge House was just completed and opened 
 that day for its first dinner in celebration of the event. 
 Boniface Penwin was a guest, and as he sat in the hand 
 some dining-room he was amazed to see Elliot Darrow 
 come smiling in between Rosalind St. Felix and her 
 father.
 
 320 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "Does the dog have a charmed life?" he asked him 
 self. "Buford's men promised not to let him escape. 
 Yet here he is, serene as a summer morning. It shall 
 not always be so, if I must do the deed in open day 
 light." And the Colonel's cold gray eyes were set like a 
 serpent's upon the young man. 
 
 "Darrow," St. Felix said, "you have come up in a 
 poor time. There will be trouble here before night." 
 
 " I '11 be away from here before night," Elliot answered. 
 "I'm just after a horse's load of things for the neighbors." 
 
 " And you never go armed? " Rosalind said, with pretty 
 anxiety, looking up at him. 
 
 He was not thinking of himself, else he would have 
 seen, maybe, how frequently she sought his glance, yet 
 with a modest air that showed the lady she would 
 always be. 
 
 " Yes, Rosalind," he smiled down on her. " I have 
 my big coarse fists, somewhat battered since last night." 
 
 "Oh, tell me about it," Rosalind said eagerly, and 
 Elliot told her of the first encounter, when Dr. St. Felix 
 interrupted. 
 
 "Never mind now, Rossie," he said. "You will find 
 every road barred now, Darrow. You can't get out of 
 Lawrence." 
 
 "I tell you, Doctor, I've got to get home this after 
 noon. I ought not to have staid for dinner." The shade 
 on Rosalind's face kept him from saying more. 
 
 The meal was hardly finished when Sheriff Jones, 
 leading two dozen armed men, appeared in the street. 
 With swagger and sneer and much show of power, he 
 demanded the rifles and cannon of the Lawrence men. 
 
 There was no alternative but to give up the cannon, 
 but the rifles were refused. Elliot watched the whole 
 proceeding as he stood in the window of Dr. St. Felix's
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 321 
 
 office; while down on the street Boniface Penwin 
 watched him. 
 
 " The coward comes sneaking into town and puts him 
 self under the protection of St. Felix, whom everybody 
 knows believes in slavery. I wonder how the fighting 
 Scotchman will like that," Penwin commented mentally. 
 "I'll go to Lecompton to-night and I'll let Lamond 
 know all about this. It won't hurt Craig with that stub 
 born Scot. Craig can let Elizabeth know of this, too, 
 and of Rosalind." 
 
 With shame and anger, the Lawrence people saw 
 their cannon taken away from them. Was there no jus 
 tice anywhere? they asked themselves, in their humilia 
 tion. 
 
 Meanwhile half a thousand armed men moved in a 
 solid column down upon the town and halted before the 
 hotel. Their banners were flying overhead, but the flag 
 of a free nation was spared that shame and dishonor. 
 In its stead was a blood-red banner with one white star 
 upon it, and the words " Southern Rights " about the 
 star. 
 
 Then began the sack of the newspaper offices, the 
 breaking up of the presses, and the scattering of books 
 and papers in the street, while the type was thrown into 
 the Kaw River. The cannon that had brought security 
 to the beleaguered town in the Wakarusa War was now 
 planted fairly against their new hotel. Then Jones, with 
 the defenceless people at his mercy, gave out his orders. 
 The hotel must come down. New, strongly built, just 
 furnished at a cost of thousands of dollars yet it must 
 be destroyed. 
 
 " All the roads are guarded now. You '11 be shot like a 
 dog, Darrow." Dr. St. Felix said to Elliot. "Help us
 
 322 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 now to get our belongings out of here before they begin 
 their work." 
 
 Boniface Penwin watched beside the cannon while 
 Elliot helped St. Felix to carry out their possessions, 
 and not only theirs, but others; and so long as he could 
 be of service the young man worked; while across the 
 street his enemy gloated over the story he could frame 
 against his son's strong rival. 
 
 With all this destruction, the invaders began the law 
 less looting of property and wanton smashing of furniture 
 and other belongings. Then cannon from four directions 
 were trained on the hotel, and ball after ball crashed 
 against it. But it stood secure. Powder-kegs were 
 placed in its cellar in an attempt to blow it apart. But 
 the building had a Free State foundation and firmness. 
 Then the insidious little firebrands came into play; the 
 flames burst from every window, and the substantial 
 hostelry, because "the South Carolinians would not be 
 satisfied" otherwise, was left a mass of jagged falling 
 walls and smoking embers. 
 
 With the wild cannonading in the hands of drunken 
 destroyers, the women and children began to flee from 
 the town for safety. 
 
 "Come, go with us, Mr. Darrow," Mrs. Merriford 
 pleaded. 
 
 "Are you afraid to go?" Elliot asked. 
 
 "No, not for ourselves, but for you," Mrs. Merriford 
 said. 
 
 " I would be no safer there than here. It is men they 
 want. I'll stay here with them," Elliot replied deter 
 minedly. 
 
 "In truth, his peace-loving soul had never before 
 known the depths of anger and fury the last twenty- 
 four hours had brought to it. And Elliot, with set teeth
 
 "LETTING IN THE JUNGLE" 323 
 
 and white, grim face, was dedicating himself to his 
 country with a courage David Lamond would have joyed 
 to know. 
 
 Amid all the noises of cannon and roar of flame and 
 shouts of maudlin glee, Sheriff Jones showed supremely 
 tyrannous. 
 
 " The happiest day of my life," he declared. " I deter 
 mined to make the fanatics bow before me in the dust." 
 
 Another round of shot poured from the cannon, carry 
 ing terror and destruction as it hurled its way through 
 the air. 
 
 " I 've done it, by God ! I 've done it," the Sheriff cried, 
 with a scornful sneer, and, turning, he dismissed his 
 forces, to rob and demolish at will. 
 
 Then followed the wild invasion of sacred places. 
 Homes were ransacked and set on fire, valuables were 
 carried off, and precious keepsakes wantonly destroyed. 
 Mad with whisky and the lust for loot, these creatures 
 ran like wild beasts from place to place, loading them 
 selves with stolen property or trampling it to ruin. 
 Knowing no law, they put upon the sacked town every 
 mark of degradation and demolition, until at last, leaving 
 the work of their hands to the bereft citizens, homeless 
 women, and hungry children, glutted with vengeance 
 and rioting in savage glee, they took themselves away. 
 And the dove of peace perched again on the broken walls 
 and ruined doorways of Lawrence. 
 
 Elliot Darrow looked back as he left the town in 
 the evening gloaming. Up on Mount Oread the flames 
 were bursting from the home of Dr. Robinson. The 
 house was a handsome one, finished in black walnut, with 
 polished mantels and dainty furnishings, and this, with 
 all its precious belongings, was blazing against the 
 western sky with a lurid glare. The sight of it all, with
 
 324 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the sacked and desolate town below it, set the young 
 man's blood on fire. 
 
 "The crowning act of a glorious event! and 'a 
 man's house is his castle,' " Elliot said bitterly. " If the 
 day ever comes when I can hold the Stars and Stripes 
 above that hateful rag that floated out in disgrace over 
 Lawrence to-day, Quaker that I am, I '11 do it, if I have 
 to carry a gun in one hand and a sword in the other, and 
 wade through human blood even to my own last minute. 
 The flag of my country is worth more than my life, for 
 it means liberty to all men. And to its honor and its 
 power I give myself here." 
 
 He looked long at the Wakarusa Valley, wrapped in 
 the purple haze of twilight, and at the angry flames that 
 crowned Mount Oread. Then, lifting his face to the stars 
 of evening, he held up his right hand in sacred promise 
 to God for the land he loved and the flag to which he 
 pledged his loyalty. But of this David Lamond knew 
 nothing.
 
 PART THREE 
 
 THE VICTORY 
 
 Many loved Truth and lavished life's best oil 
 
 Amidst the dust of books to find her, 
 Content at last for guerdon of their toil, 
 With the cast mantle she hath left behind her. 
 Many in sad faith sought for her, 
 Many with crossed hands sighed for her, 
 But these, our brothers, fought for her, 
 At life's dear peril wrought for her, 
 So loved her that they died for her. 
 
 Their higher instincts knew 
 Those love her best who to themselves are true 
 And what they dare to dream of dare to do. 
 
 James Russell Lowell.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 A MORAL AGENCY 
 
 The Sharp's rifle was a truly moral agency. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher. 
 
 NOT only upon Lawrence, but upon all the Kansas 
 Territory, did ruin, and riot, and menacing peril 
 hang with blighting power on the morning of the twenty- 
 second of May, 1856. For if the destruction of Lawrence 
 was necessary to satisfy the South Carolinians, much 
 more dreadful and widespread was the destruction needed 
 to satisfy the Georgians, the Missourians, and others who 
 in those days defamed the fair names of States they 
 claimed to represent. In a land where the mere question 
 asked of a stranger, "Are you an Abolitionist?" if an 
 swered in the affirmative, might send the assassin's bullet 
 crashing through a man's brain, satisfaction could hardly 
 be complete with the ruin of one town. Before and after 
 the vengeance of Sheriff Jones and the will of the South 
 Carolinians was wreaked on the doomed place, the whole 
 region to the east and south was under dire proscrip 
 tion. It is recorded in the book of history that the 
 raiders, turned loose with the downfall of the Eldridge 
 House, found the footing of Lawrence only the whetting 
 of their appetites for the larger feed that dying men 
 and defenceless women alone could fully glut. Such is 
 the maw of evil, fed with the daily sight of slavery, 
 whether it be black or white. And the story of the woes 
 of Kansas is repeated in the peonage of Mexico, the 
 
 327
 
 328 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 tyranny of Russia in Siberia, and the white-slave traffic 
 and child-labor curse of the United States. 
 
 When Elliot Darrow, with face uplifted, made oath 
 before high heaven to defend the flag of his country, 
 his soul was uplifted likewise with the inspiration of 
 that courage that can meet a danger it dares not ignore. 
 Elliot knew that every foot of the Trail before him was 
 beset with peril. But he was young and strong and 
 daring and unafraid. Once more he turned to look at 
 the beautiful twilight upon the Wakarusa and the dark 
 pall of smoke hanging over Lawrence and the red flames 
 leaping angrily on the top of Mount Oread ; and, beyond 
 all these, to the grandeur of the sunset sky, unspeakably 
 gorgeous in the twilight illumination. Then he set his 
 face to the south and rode away into the deepening 
 gloom of night. 
 
 He rode easily at first, letting his horse get its muscles 
 into play and mettle into temper. Then he quickened 
 his speed and the miles were paid out steadily and 
 swiftly. His eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and 
 he saw his way distinctly enough. As he reached the 
 edge of the ravine beyond the Hole in the Rock, how 
 ever, the shadows were very black below him. A shiver 
 shook his frame, and he held the white horse back for 
 an instant. A sense of impending danger possessed him. 
 The mind acts with amazing swiftness, sometimes. In 
 that instant Elliot thought of many things, but mostly 
 he remembered to have recalled his mother's face. He 
 repeated in memory every item of the errand she had 
 given him that morning, and, curiously enough, he re 
 called over and over her charge to get turpentine and 
 camphor. The words swung round through his brain 
 on some pivot. He remembered Beth as she looked on 
 the afternoon down in the cool shadows of the old Trail.
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 329 
 
 He looked at his white horse and wished somehow it 
 was a black one just for the length of that ravine. And 
 then he remembered what John Brown had said of a 
 white horse meaning peace. Somehow, he believed that 
 so long as he was on this white horse peace would abide 
 with him and he would be safe. If it should fail him, 
 peril was sure. All these and other things flashed across 
 his mind with marvelous quickness in one brief moment 
 of pause on the brimc of the black ravine. 
 
 The next moment he had given his rein a turn, and 
 the blackness had swallowed horse and rider as they 
 plunged down the steep slope and into the stream above 
 the Hole in the Rock. As he reached the hither side, a 
 wall seemed to stand before him, and he knew he had 
 been struck a terrific blow. He uttered no sound him 
 self, but he was conscious of hearing the report of a 
 gun and of his horse staggering about and then sinking 
 under him. A sense of the loss of peace with the loss 
 of the white horse possessed him, and he understood the 
 meaning of the words he heard beyond him: 
 
 "Make sure of him now, or you're dead men." 
 
 The tone was a familiar one, reminding Elliot of the 
 winter evening at this very spot, when he had heard a 
 voice strangely like this one declare threateningly: 
 
 " I shall say something here this evening that will be 
 said only once." 
 
 Summoning all his conscious power, his keen eyes 
 searched the darkness, and he recognized the two men 
 with whom he had fought two nights before, and a third 
 man, the speaker, and he called him now clearly by his 
 name. 
 
 "Boniface Penwin, you murderer!" 
 
 Then all was black, inside and out, for Elliot Darrow, 
 and he knew no more.
 
 330 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 The news of the Lawrence raid reached Lecompton 
 early the next day and the gloom of it fell heavily upon 
 the prison camp, as exaggerated reports of the cowardice 
 of the Lawrence men were rehearsed in the prisoners' 
 hearing, and the bitterness of an unjust bondage was 
 made doubly galling. 
 
 " What do you think, Darrow? Could we have helped 
 matters if we had been there? You look troubled." 
 Lamond asked the questions as the two men paced up 
 and down the narrow tented walkway allowed to 
 prisoners. 
 
 " I do not know what we might have been able to do 
 if we had been there," Darrow replied. "I wish we 
 might have had the chance," he added, with a smile. 
 "And as to what I think, Lamond, I think, bad as the 
 situation must be, these reports are all magnified for our 
 benefit." 
 
 " It 's a comfort to think of it so ; and yet you seem 
 cast down, Darrow," Lamond said, studying the Quaker's 
 face. 
 
 " I am burdened with a sense of some disaster. I shall 
 shake it off soon. I hope no harm is befalling our loved 
 ones. We can stand so much more for ourselves than 
 we can for them." And Hiram Darrow walked away. 
 
 " He wants to be alone," Lamond thought. " I '11 not 
 follow him." 
 
 At the end of the row of tents the Scotchman stopped, 
 and, dropping to the ground, sat looking out upon the 
 open country from which he was barred. 
 
 Lecompton at that time was one of the plague spots 
 of the Territory, a resort of horse thieves and other 
 desperate characters. A score of houses, most of them 
 used for saloons, made up the village, and all the vices 
 and crimes that belong to drunkenness had full play in
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 331 
 
 this isolated place. To-day the quiet and peace of the 
 little hamlet overlooking the Kaw River and the rolling 
 uplands belie the turmoil and debauchery and menace to 
 human life that were its leading marks half a century ago. 
 
 Lamond had heard the utterance of "such a deal of 
 stinking breath" around the prison camp, he hardly 
 noticed what was said about him. To-day, however, he 
 may have been more alert, for he found himself following 
 the story of the sack of Lawrence, coupled with the tale 
 of the loot and pillage and burning in the Vinland Valley 
 two nights before. The speakers were beyond the tents, 
 out of sight of Lamond, but their voices reached him 
 clearly and his mind suddenly grew intent on the story 
 they were telling. 
 
 "Yes, every house down that way is flat ashes now 
 except two," he heard one say. "They failed up at the 
 Quaker's, somehow. I didn't hear just how." 
 
 "Whose was the other place?" Another voice ques 
 tioned, and Lamond listened eagerly for the answer. 
 
 " Oh, that Scotchman, Lamond's. They came pretty 
 near it, though. They burned the stable and was about 
 to take the house, and then, it seems, some fellows come 
 on 'em sudden, led by a sweetheart of Lamond's girl. 
 She is beautiful, they say, and this young fellow got 
 wind of the trouble and came rarin* across the country 
 like a madman, and him and another fellow beat 'em out 
 and drove 'em off." 
 
 David Lamond bowed his head in gratitude to God for 
 the preservation of his home and loved ones. 
 
 "Who was the fellow, did you hear? Maybe they'll 
 get him next," the first speaker said. 
 
 " Oh, I think not, 'cause it was young Penwin, old 
 Colonel Penwin's boy. You see, the young fellow don't 
 train with us a minute, just sneers at the whole lot. But
 
 332 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 he 's the Colonel's boy, and ' sound on the goos<;.' Stands 
 by his Southern teachin', so nobody dares to interfere 
 with him. I know it was him, because I see him takin' 
 Lamond's big black horse back home to-day. They took 
 it out when the stable burned. The fellows was meanin' 
 to use it themselves, but it got away and young Penwin 
 saved it and the house and the girl and her ma." 
 
 " Oh, God be thanked ! " David Lamond murmured. 
 
 The next minute he was straining his ears again, glad 
 now that Hiram Darrow was out of his sight and of 
 the hearing of the thing he heard. 
 
 "Where was that young fellow they call Darrow? 
 Lives down there somewhere, I know. Looked like a 
 pretty cool-headed chap when I run across him in that 
 Wakarusa fuss last winter." 
 
 If Lamond had listened closely he could have recog 
 nized the voice that replied, even in its disguised accent, 
 for the Southern inflection is not easily overcome; but 
 he was too absorbed in the words to think of the 
 speaker. 
 
 "Don't you know about him? Orneriest cuss livin'." 
 
 " How 's that? " 
 
 " Oh, he was home all right night before last, and he 
 lit out to Lawrence yesterday mornin' early. Scared to 
 death and afraid to stay at home. You just ought to 'a* 
 seen how he went over to the other side when Jones and 
 his posse took Lawrence and all the Free State leaders 
 were away. I see him with my own eyes, stickin* so close 
 to a Georgia man nobody 'd dare to question him. He 's 
 got on the good side of those pro-slavery fellows to save 
 his hide the lily-livered Abolitionist's son. I hate a 
 coward ! " 
 
 " So do I," groaned David Lamond. " And that is the 
 fair-faced, smooth-tongued, weak-kneed thing that has
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 333 
 
 won my Beth by his pretty taking ways. God help me ! 
 I '11 never permit it ! Never ! " 
 
 And the set face and clinched fists of the stern Scotch 
 man left no room to doubt him. 
 
 " This fellow Darrow makes love to St. Felix's daugh 
 ter, so St. Felix will protect him. He 's a slick one. All 
 of us agreed yesterday he 'd worked a darned pretty trick 
 carryin' water on both shoulders. But he '11 do that, and 
 it was clear to everybody he was joined up with Jones' 
 crew yesterday. Him for the popular side, always." 
 And then the speakers moved out of Lamond's hearing, 
 for they had no more to say. 
 
 Up at the far end of the covered walkway, Winthrop 
 Merriford came upon Hiram Darrow, standing with 
 folded arms, looking out toward the Kaw River. 
 
 "Hello, Darrow; you seem distressed!" The lawyer's 
 eyes were keen and he read men easily. 
 
 Hiram Darrow turned his face to his questioner. 
 
 " Merriford, I have no cause for uneasiness more than 
 others, and yet I am possessed with a sense of some evil 
 overhanging my boy." 
 
 Winthrop Merriford's face was white with agony. He 
 grasped the Quaker's hand. 
 
 "Darrow, I doubt if any other man in Kansas could 
 understand you as well as I can. I've gone over the 
 road. My own boy, Neil, a young man much, very 
 much like your son, is lost." The lawyer choked and 
 turned away. 
 
 Darrow held his hand with a firm grasp, and, while he 
 did not speak, there was a sympathy in his presence that 
 was deeply comforting. 
 
 " I '11 tell you about it, but not now. I can't now. 
 To-morrow, maybe. ... By the way," seeking to change 
 the subject, "where did you get that name, Elliot, for
 
 334 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 your son? My first wife, Neil's mother, was closely 
 related to the Elliots." 
 
 "We named him for his mother. Isabel, my wife, I 
 mean, was an Elliot. She has many relatives in the East. 
 Her nearest of kin there was Osborne Elliot, of Boston." 
 
 Lawyer Merriford dropped the Quaker's hand and, 
 stepping back, stared at him intently. 
 
 "I understand it now; I understand," he said slowly. 
 " Emily and I have often spoken of your son. He looks 
 so much like Neil. The Elliots all look alike all of 
 that branch, I mean. Neil's mother was Osborne Elliot's 
 daughter. The boys are cousins. Strange I never thought 
 of it before. I knew my wife had relatives West. Dar- 
 row, we live such strenuous lives we do not get acquainted 
 with our own families. I 'm proud to be related to you 
 by marriage. I see Neil in Elliot every time I see the 
 boy." 
 
 Hiram Darrow grasped Merriford's hand and pressed 
 it warmly. 
 
 " I hope your anxiety for Elliot is only momentary. 
 God grant you may not have to walk the path I have 
 followed for the last twelve months." And the two men 
 passed arm in arm down the walkway toward David 
 Lamond. 
 
 The day that Lawrence was sacked was a long one 
 in the Vinland Valley. Nature poured out her bounty 
 of sunshine and warm air on a fertile soil awaiting the 
 plowman's conquering hand, but her best gifts seemed 
 like mockery to the scattered, helpless folk who starved 
 in fear under beneficent skies amid luxuriant wastes of 
 opulence. The houseless families, hungry, naked, and 
 frightened, bereft of the sharp necessities of life, strug 
 gled now to find how life itself might be saved.
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 335 
 
 Meanwhile Buford's forces had been busy. In lonely 
 ravines dead men lay unburied. By wayside trails bodies 
 hung from limbs of trees. In defenceless homes women 
 were assaulted with brute violence. In the hours that 
 Elliott Darrow was hemmed in at Lawrence, notices 
 scrawled in red lettering, with skull and cross-bones 
 as a seal, were sent to all the Free State households in 
 the Vinland Valley. The order contained therein com 
 manded immediately exile from Kansas, on penalty of 
 death. Where were these people to go? To the east 
 was Missouri, more perilous and impossible than Kansas ; 
 to the west was the prairie wilderness ; and beyond that 
 the hostile plains Indians and the desert. 
 
 In the middle of the afternoon, Isabel Darrow stood 
 watching the Trail westward, hoping her boy would 
 come soon. She knew only too well what threatened 
 the valley. White Turkey had left the cabin early in the 
 afternoon. Mark was helping a settler left houseless 
 and half dead from his struggle to defend his home in 
 the midnight before. Joe and Patty Wren had gone 
 to the aid of a sick widow. 
 
 So the Quaker woman was alone. Standing in the 
 warm afternoon sunshine, in her simple gray dress, with 
 her fair face and her crown of beautiful hair, she made a 
 strange picture on that trouble-darkened day. About 
 her mouth was a firmness only courage can write, and 
 in her large dark eyes glowed the light of absolute trust. 
 
 A horseman of the Buford type dashed up the way to 
 the cedars and roughly thrust a paper toward her. 
 
 " Read that, and profit by it. No foolishness now " 
 
 he ended, with an oath. Then with a learing insolence 
 he leaned toward her. 
 
 " I believe I '11 stay with you," he said in insulting 
 tones.
 
 336 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 He was a giant in stature, and coarseness marked 
 every motion and expression. Isabel knew she was 
 powerless to protect herself, and her prayer went up to 
 God that He would be her Rock of Defence. The pioneer 
 women learned to pray quickly, as they learned also in 
 supremest faith that the day of miracles lasted even until 
 Kansas was admitted to the Union. 
 
 So Isabel Darrow prayed, and the answer came, not in 
 a wall of fire that Zechariah promised the Lord would 
 put round about his people, but in a stalwart red Indian 
 who stalked out from the shadows of the cedars. 
 
 "You go!" White Turkey pointed down the Trail, 
 with a wave of his hand. 
 
 The ruffian stared at him, and then, with a sneer, he 
 cried out: 
 
 " Oh, yes, I '11 go. But I 'II come back. Don't forget it. 
 7 '// come back. Your family had better get out of Kansas 
 inside the time set, three days. They won't get out 
 after that, not a one of 'em; but you won't go, not 
 you ! " He grinned with hateful ugliness and rode away. 
 
 " White Turkey, the Lord must have sent thee," Isabel 
 Darrow exclaimed. " I thought thee had gone two hours 
 ago." 
 
 The Indian did not smile. 
 
 "White Turkey come back. Stay there," pointing to 
 the cedars. " Me go now." 
 
 "Can't thee stay till Elliot gets here? We need thee 
 now," Isabel said earnestly. 
 
 But the Indian would not yield. 
 
 " White woman," he said slowly, " you not say ' stay.' 
 White Turkey must go. For you White Turkey go." 
 And he strode away without another word. 
 
 Then Isabel Darrow in the evergreen shadows lifted 
 Ker hands in prayer.
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 337 
 
 " How long, O Lord, must we pay in blood and treas 
 ure that thy people may be free? How long shall we 
 endure and sacrifice until we may strike for the right 
 and win to victory?" 
 
 Deep in her soul the answer came, clear as a human 
 voice, and she listened, never doubting its message. 
 
 " The hour is now. Go forth to victory." 
 
 The evening came at last, but Elliot did not appear. 
 Through the long hours of the night Isabel watched 
 and waited and prayed for her boy, who came not. And 
 then the morning dawned, with its mockery of sunshine 
 and sweet air, and another day of waiting and hope and 
 dread followed. 
 
 By midday word reached the cabin that Hiram Dar- 
 row's white horse was lying dead in the ravine by the 
 Hole in the Rock, with a bullet hole in its side. 
 
 " The end of peace," Mark said bitterly. " Now, it is 
 the black horse for power, and the red-roan for blood 
 shed. I wonder how long the black horse will live." 
 And Mark clinched his fists in his set purpose. He 
 longed for action, yet he dared not leave his mother alone 
 in the unprotected home. 
 
 Little Joe sobbed heart-brokenly in the kitchen door 
 way, but Isabel went in and out like one in a dream. 
 The earth had gone out from under her feet, and she did 
 not try to think. 
 
 Craig Penwin, who had found Pluto wandering down 
 the Trail, took him home on this morning, and Beth heard 
 from him the story of Lawrence and of Elliot's devotion 
 to Rosalind and his cowardly desertion of principles in 
 the crisis of affairs. Craig was a gifted son, and his tale 
 was so well told it left no doubt in Mrs. Lamond's 
 mind. 
 
 " I believe I am as set as my husband is," she said to
 
 338 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 herself. " I had so built on Elliot's worth, I resent 
 Craig's telling me what I must believe. Oh, dear! he 
 had such a winning way. Nobody could help liking 
 him not even David. It's been the hardest fight of 
 his life to turn against the boy. But it 's all over now." 
 
 As for Beth, she steadfastly refused to doubt Elliot's 
 loyalty, and scouted the idea of his being afraid ; but the 
 well-told account of his affectionate devotion to Rosalind 
 St. Felix, who needed no protection in Lawrence, a thing 
 all Lawrence knew and remarked upon that was the 
 stab that hurt. But she should not blame him, she told 
 herself. He was shut out indefinitely from her own 
 home; why shouldn't he go where he chose? And she 
 knew his first choice would be Rosalind, and yet she 
 would not have had it so. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, Tarley Penwin brought the news 
 of the white horse in the ravine and the still missing 
 Elliot. 
 
 Beth and her mother sat side by side on the settle with 
 hand clasped in hand. 
 
 " Better so than a coward and a traitor," Mrs. Lamond 
 said, for neither one questioned how the unknown part of 
 the tragedy would finally be told. 
 
 "Yes, mother, better so," Beth said, shutting her lips 
 with that stern strength a daughter of David Lamond 
 might possess. 
 
 But in secret she kissed the gold chain and wept hot 
 tears of anguish, comforted with only one thought, he 
 was hers, now and forever. No dainty little lady like 
 Rosalind St. Felix could ever rob her now. No stern 
 father could set his face against her. And he had died 
 for his principles. Surely the slaughtered horse could 
 mean nothing else, although Craig had adroitly intimated 
 that he was on the eve of slipping out to Missouri and
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 339 
 
 away to Indiana again, where he could safely turn Abo 
 litionist and preach his Quaker cant. 
 
 But, however much Craig Penwin may have colored 
 the reports from Lawrence to suit his own cause, he 
 was outspoken in his bitter criticism of the men with 
 whom his father trained daily; he defied and denounced 
 Buford and his measures; he went wherever he chose 
 and said whatever it pleased him to say; and because 
 he was Colonel Penwin's son, and a believer in slavery, 
 the men were forced to laugh at him and take his words 
 in good part. He had the freedom of the country, and 
 the courage of his convictions, and the manners of a 
 gentleman, and he helped more than one settler; but he 
 was limited in his scope, for he carried a divided heart 
 and gave sympathy or withheld it through personal 
 motives always. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, Patty Wren came trotting to 
 the Darrow cabin. 
 
 " Mis' Darrow," she said, with a little chirp of sympa 
 thy that was vastly comforting, " you '11 feel better doin'n 
 any other way. Ef I wasn't doin' I'd be settin' by the 
 edge of the ravine puttin* ashes on my head an' rentin* 
 my sackcloth. You must be doin'. Ain't there nobody 
 we can appeal to? Nobody? " 
 
 "Yes," Mark said his voice was hard and void of 
 all feeling, and it made Patty shiver "there's John 
 Brown. If thee would let me, I 'd go to him and ask him 
 to help us. We are ordered to leave Kansas in three 
 days. We are not going, but what will we do?" 
 
 " You 've hit it, Mark. Take Cotton Mather and ride 
 for your life. Go to John Brown. They ain't nobody 
 else left anywhere now." 
 
 "Oh, Patty Wren, shall I send another boy away? 
 Thee knows how full of danger the country is. Even
 
 340 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 Elliot, big and brave, and strong as he was " She 
 
 could say no more. 
 
 "Mis' Darrow" Patty's eyes were bright with a 
 sublime trust " Mis' Darrow, the Lord don't never lay 
 on us no more'n we can bear, but He asks us to trust 
 Him and to help ourselves. Now the enemy 's closin* on 
 us. Our men folks is up to Lecompton, in jail, or dead, 
 or driv' off. Our houses is burned. Our crops is dwin- 
 dlin' away, an' now we're ordered by the wholesale to 
 leave the country. For more'n a week the orders has 
 been goin' out. Now, let's trust to the Lord, who don't 
 never fail us ner forsake us, an' do what we can. Send 
 Mark with your prayers an' blessin' down to John Brown 
 an* ask him to help. Cokey says he's the coolest, 
 bravest, settest man ever walked the Good Bein's foot 
 stool. Send Mark; he might find Elliot." 
 
 Isabel Darrow rose up and went to Mark. " My boy, 
 will thee go? " she asked, looking into his eyes with all a 
 mother's love. "There is danger in every step, but 
 with the Lord there is safety. This is his world, Mark. 
 He will not suffer thee to perish, save by his will." 
 
 Mark Darrow never forgot his mother's beautiful face, 
 as she stood before him there. He was a man now in 
 strength and purpose, and he had always been a daring, 
 fearless boy. 
 
 " Mother, I am not afraid. I '11 go to John Brown, and 
 maybe I can find Elliot or some trace of him. I don't 
 believe he is dead." Mark's voice was very firm. 
 
 " And neither don't I," Patty Wren said, determinedly. 
 
 "It seems like a forlorn hope, and yet, God is good. 
 Let us trust him that the best will come to us." 
 
 Elliot's mother looked much like her son, as a sweet, 
 brave smile played over her countenance. In her heart 
 she knew the odds were hopelessly tremendous against
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 341 
 
 finding her boy alive. He must be wounded and may be 
 dying even then. But she looked up to the blue Kansas 
 sky, and He, whose is the earth and the seas, sent com 
 fort to her soul. 
 
 Before another hour Mark Darrow, on Coke Wren's 
 hard-mouthed little pony, was speeding away to find 
 the man who had promised the ten years of trouble in 
 the October nutting time. 
 
 As Mark rode along, his spirits rose to a buoyancy 
 they had not known for hours. 
 
 "I believe we'll get help, and I believe Elliot is safe 
 somewhere. Dear boy," he mused, " the best brother 
 ever lived. He can't be lying in some of these ravines, 
 dead. I'll find out where he is before I go to mother 
 again, so help me, God. Living or dead, I '11 know some 
 thing to tell her and Joe." And on he rode. 
 
 In the records of history there are hundreds of authen 
 tic accounts, many of them unprintable for their bar 
 barity, of the cruelties of the border ruffians during the 
 years of Territorial troubles in Kansas. The high tide 
 of all this cruelty was reached in the May time of 1856. 
 And as yet, resistance was offered only as a last extrem 
 ity of self-defence. The policy of retaliation and of 
 offense, as well as defence, belongs to the later years. 
 The pioneers submitted long before that day came. The 
 afternoon shadows were lengthening when Mark Darrow 
 rode into a camp of armed men on Ottawa Creek. It 
 was the camp of the Pottawatomie Rifles. This com 
 pany of men from the region south and east hastily 
 called the day before to march to the defence of Law 
 rence, had been halted here by the news that Lawrence 
 was now beyond help from them. Not so the coun 
 tryside through which the beautiful Marais des Cygnes 
 and its tributaries flow. The settlers of this fertile
 
 342 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 region, with its clear streams, its sunny uplands, and 
 leafy hollows, liko the settlers of the Vinland Valley, 
 cowered in terror, and knew not whither to flee. Their 
 wails of distress and pleas for succor had come hither 
 to the camp of the Pottawatomie Rifles, halted briefly on 
 the banks of Ottawa Creek. 
 
 At the edge of the camp Mark slid from his pony, and, 
 leading it behind him, asked the first man he met to take 
 him to John Brown's. 
 
 "That's him out yonder," the man replied, pointing 
 to a figure sitting alone in the shade of a huge elm tree. 
 
 Mark deftly knotted his bridle rein about the limb 
 of a sapling, and then went forward to where John Brown 
 sat. The eyes of youth are keen, and Mark was quick 
 to note every detail of the scene before him. 
 
 John Brown, a prairie claim-holder and farmer, plainly 
 dressed, bare-headed, with his gun across his lap, sat 
 gazing at the winding course of the creek before him. 
 Yet his eyes seemed looking at nothing there, but through 
 everything and beyond everything, he was looking into 
 a vast, far future. And so broad was the scope of that 
 vision, small wonder is it that he noted little of the land 
 marks of the way. 
 
 " Mr. Brown," Mark said, lifting his cap, " may I speak 
 to you a minute?" 
 
 John Brown looked up at the big, muscular, boyish 
 figure before him; at the honest face, and clear, fearless 
 eyes. The bloom of health showed through the tan of 
 the yet unbearded cheek, and the courage of inexperi 
 ence gave a care-free bearing in spite of the burden on 
 the young heart. The older man smiled kindly, and 
 extending his hand, said: 
 
 " How do you do, Darrow? What can I do for you?" 
 
 "Mr. Brown, I suppose I have no claim on you to
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 343 
 
 ask you for help. But I don't know where else to go 
 now. My father is in jail at Lecompton for treason. He 
 helped to rescue Branson last November. They have 
 tried to burn our house, but we fought them off. My 
 brother Elliot was waylaid and lost between Lawrence 
 and home last night, we are ordered to leave Kansas, and 
 
 my mother's life is threatened. My mother " Mark 
 
 suddenly ceased speaking. 
 
 "Go on, my boy," Brown said, kindly. 
 
 "It's no use," Mark replied. The light went out of 
 his young eyes, and he added, bitterly: "Everybody 
 else is just like we are. There is no help anywhere." 
 
 Mark threw himself on the ground and said no 
 more. 
 
 John Brown looked silently at the boy before him, 
 sitting with drooping shoulders and sorrow-smitten 
 countenance. 
 
 " Young man, you are right. Your case is just the 
 common lot, and we endure it all until we break." 
 
 "Why should we not strike back?" Mark flashed the 
 question out. 
 
 Brown grasped his gun tightly. " We will we must. 
 There is no other way." 
 
 "When?" the boy asked. 
 
 " Now," came the answer. " Let your pony feed and 
 rest. You have come fast. In the cool of the evening, 
 go home carefully, mind you. But you will mind. Tell 
 your mother she shall be protected. So your brother is 
 dead? A fine young man, he was." 
 
 "No, he's not dead he's lost. I'm going to hunt 
 for him." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "Then don't waste time."
 
 344 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "But I will," Mark said, defiantly, and John Brown 
 smiled grimly. 
 
 "Waste it then, but save your horse's time and 
 strength, now. It will be the better for you. Also, you '11 
 not be such an easy mark in the dark." 
 
 With these words, Brown rose and joined the leaders 
 of the rifle company. Mark sat in the edge of the group 
 and listened as one may hear deliberation upon his own 
 doom, so vital was the issue in that little camp that 
 day. No voice came out of the May breezes wandering 
 through the woodland no message was written in the 
 waving prairie grasses no murmuring prophecy in the 
 shining waters of the Ottawa, slipping down to Marais 
 des Cygnes; nothing in the quiet shade in the midst of 
 that company of strong, determined men to say that the 
 judgments of that hour must go far and far toward sway 
 ing all the future of mankind. 
 
 As Mark listened, his heart forgot to beat. The bur 
 den on his mind, the help he came to secure, seemed such 
 a small part of all the anguish and dire need and 
 unspeakable atrocity, that called on these men for rescue 
 and redress. The names of those on whom vengeance 
 was long overdue were not all familiar ones to the boy, 
 and he wondered afterward how he could have remem 
 bered them and their deeds so minutely, for no word of 
 that conference was ever lost from his memory. Round 
 and round in his brain they tramped until he knew 
 them all: 
 
 Henry Sherman, better known as " Dutch Henry," of 
 Dutch Henry's Crossing, on the Pottawatomie Creek 
 cattle-thief, saloon-keeper, drunkard, quarrelsome, hater 
 of Free-State men, or any other free thing; a terror to 
 the defenceless, a menace to human life and William 
 Sherman, brother to " Dutch Henry " a little worse in
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 345 
 
 everything wherein his brother was vile, and withal much 
 less intelligent, depending on his brother for protection 
 in all his acts; 
 
 Their neighbor, Allen Wilkinson, boon companion to 
 the Shermans a member of the Kansas bogus legisla 
 ture, elected by fraudulent votes while he was yet living 
 in Missouri; insufferably contemptible even under the 
 law, without the law he was unspeakably vile, attacking 
 men and assaulting women all of whose deeds meek 
 Free-State men were expected to endure with mildness 
 and patience; 
 
 And the Doyles the Doyles! Trash of the earth. 
 Low-down whites under the level of the enslaved negro, 
 amenable to no law, for they understood no law but the 
 rule of their foul lusts. They had brought their blood 
 hounds with them to Kansas to hunt down fugitive 
 slaves or Free-State white men. They played the spy 
 for other men, tools of every evil power. They did not 
 know the ages of their own children, nor did their chil 
 dren know their own fathers. But, no matter. These 
 Doyles were Kansas settlers, come hither to build up a 
 State. And in their clutches, with such leaders as Wil 
 kinson and the Shermans, must the intelligent, high-born 
 patriotic pioneers suffer silently every indignity only 
 such as these could devise. 
 
 As Mark listened to the history set forth in that coun 
 cil, he thought of his father, and of his clean, honest 
 life ; of the Quaker home, where reverence for the Creator 
 and a loving trust in the heavenly Father and peace and 
 good-will, brotherly love and equal rights to all men, and 
 women as well, had been the daily teaching. He thought 
 of his mother, beautiful, noble, intelligent, and the stories 
 the riflemen told there of what had befallen the women 
 in other settlements set his brain on fire. He thought of
 
 346 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Elliot, and the sudden loss, forgotten in the intensity of 
 the hour, seemed to crush him to the earth. 
 
 And then he remembered David Lamond, the ster 
 ling patriot; and Winthrop Merriford, the scholarly 
 statesman; and Coke Wren, indomitable and loving. 
 
 " Oh, the men who can make a country," he said to 
 himself. "The noble, brave men. And these stupid, 
 tricky, vile forces must crush their purpose. How can 
 God let such things be?" 
 
 Mark caught his breath. The mind of the council was 
 crystallizing into a plan. How could the Quaker boy know 
 that he sat in the presence of greatness, then ; of ambas 
 sadors chosen to do a world service in these beginnings? 
 
 " The hour to strike has come. It is the day of God's 
 retribution. We shall be judged by Him whom we be 
 lieve sends us out now; all other judgments are as 
 nothing." 
 
 Mark never knew who spoke. The words were big 
 with the destiny of a state in their meaning. The dec 
 laration had followed the pleading of a messenger just 
 come into the company with a cry more bitter than any 
 others yet heard there. The boy saw John Brown leap 
 to his feet, and his face was like the face of Moses when 
 he came from the side of old Horeb, where was the 
 burning bush and the voice of the "I Am?" Brown 
 stood listening to every syllable of the man praying 
 for the helpless folk on Kansas claims along the Pot- 
 tawatomie. 
 
 u In God's name, who will keep back the Shermans and 
 the Doyles and Wilkinsons, and all their crew, from 
 assaults on these defenceless people?" the messenger 
 entreated. 
 
 "I will attend to these fellows." 
 
 It was John Brown who spoke. Mark Darrow did
 
 A MORAL AGENCY 347 
 
 not know why a picture in the bifc old family Bible came 
 to his mind then. It was the picture of the desert and 
 the thirst-mad Israelites on the burning wastes. And in 
 the foreground the big, dark rock, from which the stroke 
 of the grand old warrior's rod had brought the coo!, life- 
 giving water gushing abundantly forth. 
 
 To the Quaker boy John Brown looked like Moses 
 in that moment. He did not follow the deliberations 
 so carefully now, for his own famishing lips seemed to 
 have been cooled by water, and he was content. He 
 knew, indeed, there was careful weighing of issues and 
 much lining up of forces, choosing and rejecting. But 
 through it all one thread of thought ran strong and firm. 
 The hour to strike had come. The day of retaliation 
 was at hand. 
 
 The council broke up. Then Mark saw John Brown 
 surrounded by a little group of men, and he stepped 
 nearer, drawn by a magnetism of which he was uncon 
 scious. Brown saw him and called him by name. 
 
 " Darrow, go home now. Tell your good mother the 
 justice of God will not fail. Good-by." His voice was 
 as a woman's, and in his eyes a fatherly sympathy 
 dwelt. 
 
 Mark lingered still, while half a dozen men, with John 
 Brown and a driver, mounted a wagon, and stood sur 
 rounded by the Riflemen. The men in the wagon were 
 heavily armed, and Mark noted the gleaming cutlasses 
 and bowie-knives they wore. 
 
 "We go now," Brown was saying. "Drive south. 
 This is our work. We have chosen it; we will do it. 
 It is for freedom and humanity. Good-by." He waved his 
 hand. 
 
 A burst of cheers from those who remained; a wav 
 ing of caps ; a sending forth of many a " God-speed ! "
 
 348 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Then the Quaker boy mounted his pony and turned 
 his face toward the Vinland Valley. 
 
 All this was on a Friday. Two days later when the 
 Sabbath came, the Territory, and later the Nation, was 
 startled with the unparalleled story of a Free-State 
 uprising. Bill Sherman, Allen Wilkinson, and the three 
 Doyles father and two sons had been taken from 
 their homes in the dead of night and silently sent to 
 their doom, 
 
 With all their crimes broad blown as flush as May. 
 
 Those who took the sword had perished by the sword. 
 The Pottawatomie Massacre, the first blow for the real 
 freedom of Kansas, like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, 
 dropped into the hitherto one-sided record of the struggle 
 for supremacy in the Kansas Territory and became an 
 event fixed for all time in the annals of the West. Its 
 horrors were rehearsed, and its atrocity bitterly de 
 nounced by the South and the misunderstanding North. 
 
 But to the men who accomplished it, the perspective 
 of Time has been magnanimous. 
 
 And the hooting mob of yesterday in silent awe return 
 To glean up their scattered ashes into History's golden 
 urn.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 
 
 So much we miss 
 If love is weak, so much we gain 
 If love is strong; God thinks no pain 
 Too sharp or lasting to ordain 
 
 To teach us this. H. H. 
 
 THE first man to get out of the Lecompton "prairie 
 bastile " was Coke Wren, of course. Honorably dis 
 charged, too, for Coke would have taken no other kind. 
 But by some shrewd Yankee turn he did not explain, 
 which called out much profanity afterward from those 
 who were caught by the maneuver, he managed to get 
 his freedom. 
 
 " I want to know, now, would keepin' a stringy shoat 
 like me fattenin' on State fodder do their precious cause 
 any good? It would take a stack of Coke Wrens 'bout 
 six deep to make one real, straightforward traitor, any 
 how. A Yankee's boun' to be all right ef ' you take him 
 by hisself.' " 
 
 So Coke declared on the day the powers at Lecompton 
 turned him loose; and then he made the dust fly as he 
 sped down the Trail toward the Vinland Valley. He 
 was loaded with messages from the men he had left 
 imprisoned, and he could not too soon deliver himself of 
 them. And all of them save one brought comfort. 
 
 The one was a long letter from David Lamond to his 
 daughter. Full of fatherly love and fatherly authority, 
 it rehearsed the whole story of Elliot's downfall that 
 
 349
 
 350 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 Craig had already burned into Beth's mind. And it 
 bound her anew to her sacred promise to him to have 
 no communication with the Quaker until he should see 
 her again. There was a new pathos in all his pleading 
 now, for it came from a father shut in by prison bonds, 
 and it appealed to her loyalty as to her love. Beth kissed 
 the name he had signed and wondered how he would 
 accept the reality when he knew it. This was in the 
 early evening of the day she had heard of Elliot's dis 
 appearance the same day that Mark had gone to the 
 camp of John Brown and she was numb to the swing 
 of events, moving about as one in a dream. 
 
 The coming of Coke was God's providence to the 
 Darrow home. Isabel and Joe and Patty Wren had 
 filled the hours after Mark went away with anything 
 they found to do. But when the evening came, sorrow 
 and dread and anxiety came back to give battle when 
 hands were idle and minds must meet them. The hours 
 dragged by, but there was no sign of Mark's coming 
 to relieve their fears for him. 
 
 Into all this Coke Wren walked with the assurance 
 that was sublime. Good news came with him the cer 
 tainty that imprisonment would end as all farces must 
 some time; and Hiram Darrow was well and hopeful. 
 Mark would be back all right, too. Coke could give a 
 dozen sane reasons why he knew it. And Elliot? Well, 
 there was chance for hope as for fear. When Mark 
 came back, the two would make a search. He couldn't 
 go without a horse, nobody would take him far, and 
 he wouldn't take himself. Coke chatted cheerfully or 
 sat in sympathetic silence, and his very presence was a 
 blessing. Isabel put to the test of her faith now, clung 
 to the promises made for mothers. The while the sunset
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 351 
 
 slipped into twilight and evening to the shades of night, 
 and night wore to morning, and still Mark did not come. 
 
 "Mis' Darrow," Patty Wren said, softly, as the wan 
 daylight came again, " grip onto your faith a little longer 
 jest a little. Mark may git drownded some time, but 
 he's not born to be hanged, that boy ain't, an' he'll 
 come in all right-way-to, an' safe. I feel it in a queer 
 feelin' in the top of my head, an' when I git that feelin' 
 I'm never fooled." 
 
 " It must be a feeling deep in your heart, is n't it, 
 Patty?" And Isabel smiled bravely. "I am gripping 
 my faith, the faith that God will do his will, and his will 
 must be mine. See! the sunrise was never more beau 
 tiful! This is our Father's kingdom. He will defend 
 us." 
 
 And so, with her face turned heavenward, leaning on 
 Him who breaketh not the bruised reed, she began her 
 second day. 
 
 Meanwhile Mark had left the camp of the Pottawato- 
 mie Rifles just after sunset. 
 
 " Get pretty far east before you turn north ; you won't 
 be so likely to get into trouble." So the camp advised. 
 And to the east Mark went ; but too far. A May thunder 
 storm was swinging up from the southwest, and dark 
 ness came early. A mile from camp the boy saw two 
 horsemen in the open plains, so he kept to the ravines, 
 which threw him to the southeast continually. Another 
 mile, and the horsemen were following him. Half 
 a mile more, and he came into the open again. The 
 horsemen were chasing him now, and in the growing 
 darkness the storm cloud loomed black and angry. The 
 country was unknown to him, and Mark knew he was 
 lost. 
 
 " If I dared let Cotton Mather have his own way, he 'd
 
 352 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 take me safe home some time to-night, but the north is 
 cut off now. My only chance is to outrun the dogs, and 
 then cut northeast and trust to weaving back some 
 where close to Palmyra." 
 
 Mark looked back at the storm cloud and before him, 
 at the rough, unfamiliar way ; then he patted the vicious 
 little beast, who cared nothing for caresses. 
 
 "Keep your legs and I'll keep my head. We may 
 outrun 'em yet. The storm is going to hammer them 
 as hard as it does us." 
 
 And then the race began. A bullet whistled behind 
 the boy in token of what he might expect, and he rode 
 for his life. On and on, to the eastward, he flew. 
 Darker grew the sky and fiercer the enemies chasing 
 madly after an innocent boy, whose life they would snuff 
 out the moment they had the chance to do it. 
 
 A burst of thunder followed a blaze of lightning, and 
 the wind sailed into the race where motion was the 
 order. Then the storm came, threshing down on pur 
 sued and pursuers. It was pitch dark now, and Cotton 
 Mather, lost, as well as his master, struck out wildly 
 and stubbornly whither he chose. The storm lasted for 
 some time, and when it was over, Mark had no notion of 
 direction nor which way his enemies might be. He 
 halted to get his bearings and to decide what course to 
 take. He was drenched with the rain, and shivering 
 with cold. 
 
 A dead calm held for a little space. A perfect flood of 
 lightning illumined all the place, and then inky blackness 
 enveloped it again. In that fierce light Mark saw two 
 horsemen not a hundred feet away looking at him. Then 
 he executed a brilliant maneuver. In the crash of thunder 
 following he swerved his pony to the right and dashed 
 toward the two, passing them deftly, as they sprang in
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 353 
 
 his direction, with two pistol shots hitting the dark where 
 he had been. 
 
 "They thought I'd run the other way; I learned 
 better 'n that playing blackman at school, back in In 
 diana," Mark thought. " Let 'em chase south ; I 'm 
 going north, if I can find it." 
 
 The trick won, and Mark on the now mad pony surged 
 forward blindly for a long way. The darkness lifted, and 
 the boy wandered on, afraid to stop. At last he struck 
 a rugged region that seemed to entangle him in its 
 deep, rocky recesses, and he could find no way to the 
 open country again. Farther and farther he stumbled, 
 until he found himself in a ravine that narrowed and 
 deepened, while its darkness was impenetrable. It was 
 quiet here, with only the woodsy night noises and the 
 trickling of water at the bottom. 
 
 Floundering along in the blackness, he struck the 
 water, and the pony's hoofs beat hard upon the shelving 
 rock bottom of the stream. He tried to turn back, but 
 failed. Then the stream bed flattened and broadened, 
 with the little run of waters spreading out thinly here 
 and there upon it. The pony's feet sent out a harsh, 
 hollow sound as they struck the uneven places of the 
 streamlet's bed. 
 
 Suddenly a something darker yet than anything in that 
 black place leaped before him, and Cotton Mather sat 
 back so violently on his haunches that any other boy 
 would have been thrown at once. 
 
 "What the dickens now?" Mark cried, off his guard. 
 
 "Mark Darrow, you fool! Come like a herd of buf 
 falo in here. Keep still!" 
 
 It was the voice of White Turkey, and the boy, with 
 nerves so long held tense, slid from his horse and caught 
 the Delaware around the neck.
 
 354 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Stop," commanded the Indian. " Keep still ! " 
 
 "But I'm so glad to see you," Mark exclaimed. 
 
 White Turkey shook him off. 
 
 "I kill you!" he hissed in the boy's ear; and Mark's 
 heart stopped beating. "You keep still. Me get him 
 out now." The tone was hardly audible. 
 
 "Get who out?" 
 
 "Elliot. You help him quick." 
 
 Help him quick! Oh, yes. A wet, shivering boy 
 tumbled down in a heap on the wet stones of the black 
 dell a boy with a ringing in his ears and points of 
 light before his eyes, who was only dimly conscious of the 
 sound of a pony's feet growing fainter as White Turkey 
 led it away to a place of safety. And all was still. Then 
 a hand of steel suddenly gripped his arms and lifted 
 him up. 
 
 "You come," the Indian said. And Mark obeyed. 
 
 North from the line of the old Santa Fe Trail to-day, 
 not far from where the village of Palmyra once stood, is 
 a picturesque spot known locally as Coleman's Dell. 
 It is a rugged ravine, with "rocks, crags, and mounds, 
 confusedly hurled," but on a tiny scale; a broken, cliff- 
 walled, secluded place a picnic ground, with sugges 
 tion of wilderness tradition, and full of happy association 
 for the care-free young college folk of the nearby Baker 
 University. Hither the students, sons and daughters of 
 a fearless, prosperous people, come for holiday outings. 
 On the slabs of broken stone they spread their sand 
 wiches and pickles. In the romantic nooks they group 
 themselves fantastically, hilariously, becomingly, for the 
 rapid-firing kodaks. Down the rough, rocky floor, the 
 one-time bed of a lost and forgotten streamlet, they wan 
 der in the interests of botany and geology and ento 
 mology and one another; and then come gaily home
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 355 
 
 through the springtime moonlight to paste their trophies 
 of the day in college memory-books. 
 
 On that terror-filled night, half a century ago, when 
 Mark Darrow rode his pony into this dark dell, the sur 
 roundings were no less wild and picturesque, but in 
 place of the heaps of broken strata one clambers over 
 to-day, there was a floor of rock, seamed and shelving, 
 over which the thread of waters wandered with little 
 trickling noises. 
 
 Mark stumbled meekly along after the sure-footed 
 Delaware, conscious only of two facts; he was with a 
 friend, and Elliot was alive. Mark's hair was white at 
 forty-five, and he always declared that the beginning of 
 its silvering was on this night. In the darkness he could 
 only feel his way and trust. 
 
 "I've got more respect for you than I have for the 
 Lord," he whispered, irreverently, as he groped about. 
 " I 'd never trust anybody but a Delaware to lead me in 
 here." 
 
 But White Turkey only grunted for silence, and 
 Mark went blindly after him. 
 
 The way narrowed. Then it slipped into a crack in 
 the walled side of the ravine. Blacker and rougher and 
 downward now. Wet, slippery, cold and downward still. 
 A score of feet, they crept like lizards in a crevice barely 
 wider than their bodies, squeezing themselves through 
 narrow spaces. At last they stood in an opening, the 
 blackest place Mark had ever seen. The air was heavy 
 and damp. The stones were cold and wet, but not 
 slimy, and from somewhere came an odor of smoke. 
 
 "Stay here!" the Indian commanded. 
 
 "I won't need to be hitched," Mark replied. 
 
 A lighted candle gleamed presently before him and 
 he began to get his bearings. He was in a cavern of
 
 356 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 rock, walls, roof and sides, a tiny chamber tucked 
 snugly under the creek bed with the water trickling 
 along overhead. In later years, by some earthquake or 
 other force, the bed of the stream has been broken into 
 jagged slabs, and the same roofless chamber now makes 
 the pretty wild dell of romantic scenery. 
 
 That night it was a hidden cave, concealed by the 
 stream, dark and cold, and reached only by a secret 
 tortuous pathway. But it was the kingdom of heaven 
 to Mark Darrow; for, before him on a heap of dead 
 grasses, lay Elliot, white and limp, his clothing torn and 
 mud soaked, but he was living and conscious. 
 
 "Hello, Mark! Are you alive?" Elliot had not lost 
 his smile. 
 
 " No, I 've passed on ! " Mark answered, carelessly, 
 but he sat down beside his brother and hid his face. 
 
 Elliot patted his cold hand in silence. 
 
 " How did a big overgrown thing like you get your 
 self through those cracks coming down?" Mark asked, 
 at length. 
 
 "I didn't get myself here. I was brought. What 
 of me they could n't pull through, they left on the other 
 side. It's a convenient system," Elliot said. "My left 
 leg was too long, so they broke it getting me in. I'm 
 an awkward piece of furniture, it seems." 
 
 " You always were," Mark said. But in the dark he 
 wiped the tears from his brimming eyes. 
 
 "Tell me how it happened, Ellie." The boy's voice 
 was choked. 
 
 Elliot related what he remembered of the event at 
 the Hole in the Rock on the night before. 
 
 "I thought of a lot of things after the first blow, 
 but mostly of some camphor and turpentine I'd failed 
 to get for mother, because the ruffians filled up
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 357 
 
 Lawrence and I helped folks what I could. They had 
 shot the horse and it began to go down under me, and 
 I knew I was shipwrecked. The last thing I heard was 
 Boniface Penwin crying out to stop somebody, 'Don't 
 kill him here! Don't kill him here,' for they must 
 have struck me again, and I did n't know anything for a 
 long time. When I did come to myself, I made out 
 that I was being taken somewhere for the finishing off 
 some place Penwin was not to be told of and I was 
 to be put where he was never to see nor know of me 
 till I meet up with him on the Judgment Day. I must 
 have dreamed that I heard him say one dead face was 
 all he could stand at the Hole in the Rock." 
 
 " I could stand that many anywhere if he 'd furnish the 
 face," Mark said, grimly. 
 
 "They broke my leg getting me in, but I broke the 
 fellow's head who did it, and he had to take himself 
 off to the Georgians' camp. Then White Turkey, who 
 had been waiting for me by the Hole in the Rock, but 
 got shut off from warning me because I was late, came 
 into the game. He followed us up here as fast as he 
 could, and stampeded the other fellow. Oh, I don't 
 remember it all. It must have happened a thousand 
 years ago." And Elliot turned wearily on his pallet of 
 grasses. 
 
 "All right, Ellie, you are here. That's enough," 
 Mark said, cheerily. 
 
 " But the rest," Elliot said, " I '11 tell you now, before 
 we go." 
 
 "How will we go in the dark, Ellie?" Mark asked, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Oh, you and White Turkey will help me what I 
 can't help myself. He couldn't do it alone. Strut a 
 little now. He and that ruffian had it out in a pitched
 
 358 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 battle all day and half of last night. The villain tried 
 to smoke us out or get rid of White Turkey first, and 
 then finish me. White Turkey tried to kill him, or get 
 us both out together. He wouldn't leave me and take 
 the risk of losing both of our lives. And so long as the 
 place was guarded outside, nobody could get in to help 
 us. After dark, he slipped away, and we know he's 
 gone to get help to finish us." 
 
 Elliot smiled up at Mark, whose face was drawn with 
 grief. 
 
 "We thought it was the Missouri militia when you 
 came thundering in on top of us, Mark, and from weak 
 ness and loss of courage, I must have sort of faded 
 away. I've not had anything to eat since I took din 
 ner at the Eldridge House opening, back in the reign of 
 Queen Anne." 
 
 "Or Princess Rosalind," Mark offered. 
 
 "Anyway, I'm short on dates. But now you have 
 come with a horse, and White Turkey has got some 
 kind of a harness for this broken branch to keep it staid 
 till we get out." 
 
 "Be quick," White Turkey said. "They get here 
 soon." 
 
 The Indian had been improvising a bandage of strips 
 of blanket, knotted securely together. 
 
 "Where did you get that?" Elliot asked, as he helped 
 to adjust it about his swollen limb. 
 
 "My blanket. Put in here last winter,'* the Dela 
 ware replied. 
 
 "Did you bring it from the little draw on this side 
 of Lamonds'?" Elliot asked. 
 
 The Indian nodded. 
 
 Then, with all haste, and much risk and suffering to 
 Elliot, the three managed to crawl from the cave, and
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 359 
 
 at last reach the open dell, where Cotton Mather pawed 
 viciously, anxious to be off. 
 
 " Does anybody else know of that place? " Mark asked, 
 when they had gained the upland. 
 
 " Yes. Pelathe. Penwin don't know. His men think 
 nobody know, only them. Say, nobody ever find where 
 young white brave gone. Me fool white men. Ugh ! " 
 
 The Delaware grunted in disgust. 
 
 The sunrise, whose beauty Isabel Darrow had noted, 
 had hardly lost the sea-shell pink of dawn, when Dr. St. 
 Felix drove up to the cedar-hid cabin on the hill. His 
 face was aglow, but his manner was reserved. 
 
 "I come to bring you good news," he said, as the 
 Quaker woman greeted him. "I've just left your two 
 boys, both safe, but a little the worse for wear, especially 
 Elliot. They were asleep when I left, but Mark will 
 be home soon and Elliot after a little." 
 
 " I want to know," drawled Patty Wren. " I knowed 
 that queer feelin' wasn't in the top of my head for 
 nothin'. Never fooled me yit." 
 
 Patty sat down in the door as if her day's work was 
 done. Joe made no sound, but he was standing on his 
 head in the blue grass beside the doorway, in excess of 
 joy words could not convey. Isabel looked steadily at 
 Dr. St. Felix. 
 
 " I understand ; I had a son once," he said. And then 
 he told her of her own boys. 
 
 "They are with the Hoosier family who came out 
 here in November the Elberts. Got there about mid 
 night, and that Delaware Indian, White Turkey, came 
 right on to Lawrence for me. Elliot will be kept there 
 several days, but Mark will be here to-day. Mr. Elbert 
 will bring him. He will need some care," the doctor 
 added, " and, as Elliot is in good hands, I advise you to
 
 360 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 look after Mark first. I brought Rosalind down with 
 me, and she and Mrs. Elbert will not let Elliot 
 suffer." 
 
 Dr. St. Felix could not tell by Isabel Darrow's face 
 what she thought, but he knew, as a physician, what was 
 best for her and her sons, and he suggested his com 
 mands so kindly, they were generally obeyed. 
 
 And Elliot was in good hands. No more motherly 
 soul ever came out of Indiana than Mrs. Elbert, and 
 she had known the young Quaker from his childhood. 
 Under her care he gained so rapidly, he thought her a 
 little severe in enforcing the doctor's orders, for he was 
 impatient to be up and doing. And yet the gentle touch 
 of Rosalind's hands about his pillow, her quick, skillful 
 ministrations, made his illness a pleasure, until one eve 
 ning when he was lying with closed eyes, dreaming of 
 Beth Lamond, Rosalind had come in softly, and, thinking 
 he was asleep he lay so still she had bent over the 
 white face on the pillow and kissed his forehead. Elliot 
 lay very still, thinking of the night he had kissed Beth 
 without her consent. He wondered if Rosalind would 
 feel as he did then. 
 
 The next afternoon she left, and he felt her absence 
 keenly, she was such a comfortable friend, yet he was 
 glad to have her go. She was hardly away before he 
 heard a voice in the other room of the cabin, and he for 
 got Rosalind in the joy of his hungry heart. 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. Elbert was saying, "he's doing fine. 
 He's asleep now, so we can say anything we want to. 
 But how could he help doing well? That little French 
 girl, who came down from Lawrence, just seemed to 
 know exactly what he wanted, and he did enjoy her." 
 
 Mrs. Elbert never saw two young people together 
 without building a romance for them. And the things
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 361 
 
 her own colorless life had starved for, she played up 
 in imagination for others. 
 
 "But girls always did like Ellie Darrow," she went 
 on, for Beth was a good listener. " I 've known him all 
 his life, and even as a little boy the girls were crazy 
 about him." 
 
 In the other room, Elliot groaned silently. 
 
 " Just like his mother," his hostess continued. " She 
 was the belle of her day. I just know he'll make a 
 match with that little Miss St. Felix, unless the other 
 girls work hard. They say the Lawrence girls are all 
 crazy over him, and my niece is coming from college 
 out here next month well, he always did like her. She 
 was his first sweetheart. But that French girl's got 
 the inside track, because he 's going to be a doctor, and 
 she's pretty near one. And then, would you believe it" 
 her voice dropped low, so only Beth could hear "I 
 saw her kiss him last evenin'. He was asleep and never 
 knew it, and she did n't want him to, I don't suppose. But 
 say," in a louder tone, " don't you want to go in and look 
 at him?" 
 
 "No, I think not," Beth said. 
 
 A hot tear stole down Elliot's cheek, and he turned 
 his face away in shame and sorrow. 
 
 "Yes, just run in. He's asleep. He's dressed and 
 propped up comfortable on the lounge. Maybe you 
 wouldn't mind watching by him a half hour, while I 
 knead out my dough to raise. I 'm behind with it now." 
 
 And good-hearted Mrs. Elbert pushed Beth into the 
 sick-room, more from her love of romantic situations 
 than from any notion of Elliot's needs. 
 
 Beth had come out of neighborly courtesy, she told 
 herself, and she had pledged herself not to speak to 
 Elliot because of her father's will. The words of Mrs.
 
 362 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Elbert had cut her all the more deeply because she 
 looked hopelessly now toward her own future. And 
 here, before either one had thought it possible, she was 
 beside him. 
 
 Elliot's face was white and marked with the pain 
 he had undergone, but his dark eyes glowed with a glad 
 light, and he smiled radiantly up at Beth. 
 
 " It was very kind of you to come," he said. " I 'm 
 harmless. You wouldn't abuse a fellow when he can't 
 fight back, would you?" 
 
 He was making things so easy for her. She put out 
 her hand and Elliot grasped it quickly, but it was the 
 handclasp of a friend. 
 
 " I was so anxious to hear from you," she began. 
 
 "Sit down, won't you? The dough needs working, 
 and I must have somebody to look after me." There was 
 a twinkle in his eye, as he made room for her beside him. 
 
 " Such a popular fellow ought not lack for attention," 
 Beth replied, mischievously. 
 
 Elliot groaned aloud. 
 
 "There be things worse than a broken tibia and a 
 wrenched ankle, but I won't complain," he said. 
 
 " It might be worse. After to-day, the dear, good soul 
 will have me added to the list," Beth said. Then both 
 were silent. 
 
 When the girl spoke again, there was a firmness in 
 her voice. 
 
 " Elliot, I ought not come here, I am untrue to father ; 
 and if I am false to him, I will be to others." 
 
 There was a sweet womanliness about her that made 
 the charm of her girlish face doubly dear to the young 
 man beside her. Quickly, for her strength of will was 
 failing her, she told the contents of her father's letter. 
 
 "And you believe that story?" he asked.
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 363 
 
 "Not about the treachery to the Free-State cause. 
 But, Elliot, are you really trying to make Rosalind St. 
 Felix care for you?" 
 
 It would take little effort, she thought, to make any 
 girl do that. 
 
 "Do you think, Elizabeth, that I would do that?" 
 
 His eyes were fixed on her and the love-light in 
 them made up to Beth for all the sorrow and doubt of 
 the days just past. It was a wonderful thing to have 
 the love of such a man. She could believe all that Mrs. 
 Elbert had said. 
 
 The dough-board was thumping on the kitchen table. 
 The house was very still. Outside the landscape was 
 brimming over with the June sunshine. A cool breeze 
 was playing in through the open door and Beth, with her 
 golden hair and her deep gray eyes, over which the 
 long black lashes drooped now; and Elliot, with all his 
 young red-blooded manhood of strength and honor 
 somehow these things made the plain cabin a place these 
 two might never forget. 
 
 " Elliot, father is in prison," Beth said. 
 
 "So am I," Elliot answered. 
 
 "But how can you ever make him understand?" the 
 girl said, pleadingly. 
 
 "I'm never going to try, nor would you want me to, 
 dearie." How gentle his tones were ! " Elizabeth, the 
 men who battle for this State to make it gloriously free 
 are not discouraged with one defeat. Their cause is just, 
 and they bide their time. So is mine, and I bide my time. 
 If you will let me," he added, softly. "But, Beth, you 
 and I must keep our faith, or break it now. My prom 
 ise to wait your time, and your promise to your father 
 are secondary bonds, time limits only. I believe it will 
 be given to me to prove myself worthy in your father's
 
 364 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 eyes, if I am true to you. But if I am worthy in your 
 eyes, Beth, I shall be satisfied. If the test comes and 
 you must choose between us, which bond at last is to 
 be unbreakable? Shall I give you back the locket then, 
 or hang it on the little chain and let you keep both for 
 my sake?" 
 
 He folded his arms as if to shut her out, and waited. 
 She looked up at him with a glorious light in her darkly 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 "Elliot Darrow, at the last test, it is my home, my 
 hope, my life, that belongs to me. All other promises 
 must give way before one alone. The unbreakable bond 
 is between us two. I shall keep the gold chain and 
 when the time comes maybe you will put the locket 
 on it. It is yours to give now, for I have given it to you, 
 the only one to whom my father said it might be given." 
 
 She reached out her hands to him, and he took them 
 hungrily. 
 
 " Till death us do part," he said, softly. " Henceforth, 
 there are to be no more doubts." 
 
 "Elliot, I must go now. May I tell you something?" 
 
 "You don't need to go to do it?" Elliot replied. 
 
 "Yes, I do. I must tell you and run. Mrs. Elbert 
 told me that she saw Rosalind kiss you when you were 
 asleep, and didn't know it." 
 
 "I wasn't asleep, and I did know it. But I would 
 never have told it," Elliot said. " Do you think you 
 would have done as much for me if you had been in her 
 place?" 
 
 "I don't think know I would not," Beth declared. 
 
 " Well, I would n't have let you, anyhow," Elliot said, 
 with serious countenance. 
 
 "But, Elliot, has your nurse that right?" Beth asked, 
 earnestly.
 
 THE ENDURING PROMISE 365 
 
 "No, Elizabeth; I kissed somebody once when I had 
 no right to do it. If Rosalind feels as I did, I pity her. 
 She is an impulsive girl, but good as gold. I am not 
 vain enough to think she would think seriously about 
 me very long unless I encouraged her, which I am not 
 contemptible enough to do. For, dearie, you women may 
 think you feel unhappy when you cannot care for some 
 man who wants you to, but I don't believe you can 
 know how a man feels when the same thing comes to. 
 him. You can be coldly courteous and still be a lady. 
 A man can't do that always and be a gentleman. Don't 
 misunderstand Rosalind. She will never throw herself 
 where she is n't wanted. But well, I have a locket to 
 keep untarnished. My honor, likewise, is something I 
 must not blacken." 
 
 Beth was standing now and Elliot held her hand in 
 good-bye as if he could not let her go. 
 
 "I'll keep my word to you, and you will be true to 
 your promise to your father. But that cannot keep me 
 from reading a message for me in beautiful gray eyes, 
 when I can look into them now and then. And it must 
 be that I shall be a better man, because I cannot have 
 my own way now." One long handclasp, and then Elliot 
 smiled up at Beth. "The oven door is slamming, so 
 the bread is shelved. I think it ought to have been 
 kneaded more, don't you?" 
 
 And the two turned to Mrs. Elbert, who now had 
 food for a new romance.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 BROKEN BONDS 
 
 It matters not how straight the gate, 
 How charged with punishment the scroll, 
 
 I am the master of my fate, 
 I am the captain of my soul. 
 
 Henley. 
 
 TJ^LLIOTS recovery was rapid because the girls 
 * * came to see him, and cheered him, so his nurse, 
 Mrs. Elbert, said; because he had studied medicine and 
 knew how to take care of himself, in the pride of his 
 youth, he thought, but he did not say it ; because he was 
 in vigorous health, and strong by inheritance, Dr. St. 
 Felix averred. But his mother, in her secret place of 
 prayer, with her Madonna face lifted heavenward, gave 
 the praise to Him from whom come all good and perfect 
 gifts. 
 
 Elliot brought no suit for assault with intent to kill, 
 although he knew each of the three men who had lain 
 in wait for him by the Hole in the Rock. Suit in the 
 civil court at Lawrence, with Sheriff Jones sent to arrest 
 his would-be assassins! Jones in civil court could not 
 have proved that he was not himself accessory to the 
 same crime ! There was no law in Kansas in those days 
 whereby a Free-State man might guard his own life, 
 save the law of a muscular arm, a ready brain, and 
 nimble heels. These failing, the loaded musket and the 
 sharpened bayonet must be the law of protection. More 
 over, the summer that followed the Pottawatomie Mas- 
 
 366
 
 BROKEN BONDS 367 
 
 sacre was one of unparalleled strife. In the archives of 
 history it is recorded that the sack of Lawrence was to 
 be followed with the wholesale sweeping of the Territory 
 by the Pro-Slavery forces. Burning for property, ban 
 ishment for families, and bullets for all who remained 
 against orders ! The burning and banishment had already 
 begun, as well as the firing of many a murderous bullet. 
 A general massacre of settlers in the Territory was only 
 a night or two away, when John Brown and his six fol 
 lowers fell upon the Pottawatomie and slew five men. 
 With all that had gone before of boast and swagger and 
 sneer and threat, and with crimes unnamable behind 
 them, the slaying of these five ruffians by seven Free- 
 State men seems a mere hint at retaliation. But it threw 
 such consternation into every Pro-Slavery camp that the 
 old prophecy of one putting a thousand to flight, and two 
 routing ten thousand, seemed more than a figure of rhet 
 oric. It is marvelous even now, when the rancor of it all 
 is but a memory, that the shock should have been so tre 
 mendous to men already past-masters in such methods of 
 controlling a Territory. And it will be the calm judg 
 ment of all future years that the first and most decisive 
 blow struck for freedom in the West fell on the night of 
 the Pottawatomie Massacre. 
 
 It was but the natural law that revenge should strike 
 hardest at John Brown. He was the foe of all foes to 
 be dreaded. And through all the summer days of that 
 eventful year, the Pro-Slavery powers were alternately 
 hunting for him or fleeing from him. The mere an 
 nouncement that John Brown was heading toward a com 
 munity sent panic and terror to the forces opposing him. 
 One son he had seen shot down in this mad strife, 
 and one was driven insane from torture. But old John 
 Brown stayed not his hands from fighting any more. For
 
 368 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 these were the days of peril and power in the building of 
 a State. 
 
 Across the Vinland Valley and beyond its borders, the 
 Kansas warfare was waged, while June ran into July and 
 July melted into August, and none could prophesy what 
 a day would bring forth. Black Jack, Franklin, Pal 
 myra, Hickory Point, Osawatomie, and with lesser vio 
 lence Bull Creek, Ottawa Creek, Prairie City, and other 
 and yet other names are marks for the shrines of a rev 
 erent generation for whose defence and strength to-day 
 there was reared 
 
 A wall of men 
 On Freedom's Southern line, 
 a half century ago. 
 
 In this summer's strife it fell to Elliot Darrow and 
 Coke Wren to lead in the defensive action. Elliot was 
 too much of a Quaker to take the field with John Brown. 
 He stayed by the valley in its need for protection, and 
 between times he was a farmer. Not so Mark Darrow. 
 With a man's strength and a boy's impetuous spirit, he 
 had flung himself into the fray from the night of the 
 Pottawatomie Massacre. 
 
 " Mother," he said, when he heard the first call, " I 'm 
 going to John Brown. Thee will let me, for I cannot 
 stay away." He had his arms about his mother, and 
 his voice was winning. " I have wanted to be with that 
 man since the day I saw him up on the bluff, when we 
 were nutting in October." 
 
 Isabel put her hands on either side of his face and 
 studied the boy-spirit back of it. 
 
 "I know it, Mark. I knew it that night, when John 
 Brown stayed with us the night Jupe came here, and 
 White Turkey. Thee is a Quaker, Mark."
 
 BROKEN BONDS 369 
 
 "Yes, secondarily, I am; primarily, I'm Mark Dar- 
 row, and I must fight out my own course just like Will 
 iam Penn fought his; in my own way, I mean. Does 
 thee suppose, mother, that we are all to follow one line? 
 The Quakers have been persecuted long enough. I 'm 
 going to do some of the persecuting now. It 's the only 
 way to make history. Watch for the future annals of 
 Kansas. See Mark Darrow's name writ large." 
 
 "By the grand jury?" Joe queried. 
 
 But Isabel spoke earnestly. 
 
 " My boy, go thy own way. I am willing thee should, 
 not because I think thee is right, but because thee thinks 
 thee is. And if thee must turn persecutor do it well, 
 but mercifully, dearie. The only real joy in conquest is 
 the memory of kindness to the conquered. And God 
 give thee victory." 
 
 And so Mark went his own way. 
 
 With the advent of Governor Geary, in September, 
 David Lamond and Hiram Darrow at Lecompton re 
 turned to the Vinland Valley, and Winthrop Merriford 
 came back to Lawrence. Coke Wren, who during his 
 stay at Lecompton did not mention his fishing experience, 
 now hastened to Lawrence. 
 
 " Merriford, I'm glad to see you," he drawled. "Always 
 glad to see you, in jail or out. What be you goin' to 
 drive at first, now? " 
 
 Coke's face was veiled in stupid indifference, but the 
 lawyer scented a leading. 
 
 "I'm going to settle affairs here. They have been 
 neglected for months, nearly all the year, in fact. Then 
 I'm going to start out and not come back until I find 
 Neil Merriford." 
 
 "Hm!" Coke ejaculated sympathetically. "I want to
 
 370 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 know. Say," after a pause, " where 's that nigger, Jupiter 
 St. Augustine Penwin Roxbury, LL.D., T-Y-ty?" 
 
 " Sitting by the back door here, listening to us, I sup 
 pose," Merriford answered wearily. " I am about ready 
 to give him up." 
 
 "An* you a lawyer, an' smart in spite of it. I'm 
 surprised at you. But, Merriford, I've come to help a 
 little with this Neil business." 
 
 "Can you?" Winthrop Merriford's face brightened. 
 
 Coke carefully unrolled a package from its wrappings 
 and displayed a somewhat rusted revolver. 
 
 "I went fishin* down at the Hole in the Rock last 
 May," he drawled. Then his tone changed. "I found 
 this right near the edge, on a little shelf runnin* 'round 
 about a foot down below the surface. Patty and me 
 worked hours to clean it. Then I brought it up here to 
 see if that bullet I brought you'd fit it. It does. But 
 you was gone to Lecompton for your summer outing." 
 Coke had to joke to break the pressure of his thoughts. 
 " So I 've put in the summer follerin' this thing up. It 
 was easier 'n tendin' a crop, with a gun in each boot-leg 
 an' a knife in your teeth. They's a name on the plate 
 there on the handle. Where 'd you say Neil went? " 
 
 Coke laid the revolver on the lawyer's desk and looked 
 meditatively out of the door. 
 
 With trembling hand, Winthrop Merriford took the 
 weapon and turned it to the light. In the silver plate 
 on the handle he saw the letters 
 
 NEIL MERRIFORD, 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
 " Tell me, Wren," he said in a low voice. 
 "You tell me first, Merriford, an' then we'll line up 
 for somethinY*
 
 BROKEN BONDS 371 
 
 "I've little to tell you, Coke, that you don't know. 
 The year Neil graduated he became engaged to a beauti 
 ful girl from Georgia. Her name was Tarleton, Lucy 
 Tarleton. Last year Neil went South to marry her. He 
 wrote me a line, just a line, to say there was trouble he 
 could not explain, and that he would go back to Boston 
 alone. Then he quit writing. Our Wakarusa War was 
 on, and, you remember, I went back East just after our 
 peace-party. The day I left, Dr. St. Felix called me into 
 his office and we had a long conversation. He knew Miss 
 Tarleton very well, and he also knew Neil met him in 
 Atlanta. And he told me his fears for what I found was 
 true. When I reached Boston Neil had disappeared. He 
 came into Atlanta last September, and he acted strangely, 
 as if his mind was burdened. Then he dropped out of 
 sight." The lawyer ceased and turned the revolver in 
 his hands. 
 
 " Is that all? " Wren asked. 
 
 " No, one thing more. Miss Tarleton is dead." 
 
 " Hm ! I want to know," Coke said sympathetically, 
 and the lawyer continued. 
 
 " I came home, intending to attend to matters here and 
 then to go South myself. Before I could get away there 
 was a price put on my head in Missouri because I am 
 connected with the New England Emigrant Aid Society, 
 and then they got me on a writ of 'Conventional Treason' 
 and I 've been shut up in that tent bastile at Lecompton. 
 Now I am going to run this thing down. Can you help 
 me? I know you can. Coke Wren, I knew your father 
 before you. There was never a shrewder, more honest, 
 nor more kindly family in all New England than the 
 Wrens. I know you have come to help me." 
 
 "Oh, the Wrens are well enough. I'm the only one 
 ever got in jail the Aaron Burr of the family. That 's
 
 372 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the blot onto our scutchin, but I 'm hoping the scutchin 
 can stand a dab or two. Treason ain't so bad when 
 they's a lot of traitors, an* suitable chaperons." 
 
 Then Coke grew serious. 
 
 " Tell me all you know about that Senegambian, Jupe," 
 he said. 
 
 "Jupe ran away from Georgia because he was sold to 
 a man he feared. Came to our house, as you know, and 
 we fed him. Then he saved Neil's life on the Charles 
 River when his boat capsized. Neil always had a horror 
 of water, although he was brought up beside the ocean. 
 When Jupe's overseer came after him the next day, Neil 
 protected Jupe and he kept his freedom." The lawyer 
 paused. 
 
 "But after that, Merriford?" Coke asked. "Why did 
 he go South again?" 
 
 " The same thing that took Neil there took this black 
 man also the love of a woman." Merriford's face was 
 full of pathos. "Jupe's wife was still in bondage, and 
 he said he would bring her North or stay with her until 
 he was sold again and forced to go. Coke Wren, if 
 slavery had no other curse, the curse that will fall upon 
 this nation for its utter disregard of marriage vows for 
 the enslaved race will surely bring down God's vengeance 
 on us." 
 
 "But the outcome?" Coke queried. 
 
 "Jupe says his wife is dead. So is Miss Tarleton. 
 Jupe's last master was Boniface Penwin. It was Rox- 
 bury's overseer who came to Boston after him. Now he 
 declares he is free, and he is entirely secure in his own 
 mind. Some sense of duty, I believe, keeps his lips closed. 
 Roxbury is with Buford now. That 's all I Ve been able 
 to find out. There is more to come, as soon as I can give 
 it the time. Now it 's your turn, Wren."
 
 BROKEN BONDS 373 
 
 The lawyer smiled faintly on the little Yankee. 
 
 Coke Wren was only five feet three inches, "from 
 beak to feet," as Patty had said. He was thin and wiry 
 and homely. He was not rich nor highly educated, and 
 his occupation in life was to till the soil. But he came 
 of staunch old New England stock, and blood will tell. 
 He was honest, frugal, clever in his financial dealings, 
 and abundantly kind-hearted. But his gift was shrewd 
 penetration and quick, accurate judgment. And his name 
 was his bond no less in those years than when in a 
 later time it stood at the head of the large banking busi 
 ness his genius made widely influential. But he never 
 looked like a bank president. No more did he on that 
 day seem able to unravel a tangled mystery for the 
 keenest mind in the Territory. He sat in meditation 
 for a while, then he said: 
 
 "I can save you some time. Call in the followin', 
 to-wit: Jupiter Roxbury, nigger; White Turkey, Dela 
 ware Injun; Pelathe, Shawnee Injun; Dr. Pierre St. 
 Felix, pro-slavery man an' gentleman; Elliot Darrow, 
 Quaker, game-cock. He 's over to St. Felix's office now, 
 analyzin' specimens with Miss St. Felix. They'll keep. 
 Bring him and Doc together. Jupe's outside the back 
 door. The Injuns are down by the Kaw, fishin' and 
 waitin' to be called up here. They 's two more I 've got 
 on the bait if they get into town to-day. If not, to-mor 
 row '11 do. Merriford, I believe we can settle this here 
 in a couple of hours, all except fixin* the blame. The 
 Coroner's got to do that. But what you've got to do 
 is to convince 'em all that a bad promise is better broken 
 ef life and justice are in the balance." 
 
 Merriford grasped Wren's hand. 
 
 "You are the salt of the earth, Coke Wren," he said 
 huskily.
 
 374 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Yep, I look like a codfish or herring, I know." The 
 glass of the open door made a sort of mirror against the 
 wall, and Coke grinned at his own reflection there. But 
 tears were glistening in his eyes, for all his joking. 
 
 In a few minutes all those named for summoning were 
 lined up in the lawyer's office, waiting to follow the 
 leading of the little Yankee. 
 
 Across the street a red-roan horse stood hitched. 
 Presently, around the corner, behind the livery stable, 
 two men from Buford's camp tied their horses and, 
 instead of coming to the main street, strolled down the 
 alley to the nearest saloon. They were Roxbury, the 
 Atlanta gambler, and Jack Bobbs, his henchman. 
 
 Inside Merriford's office Wren was first to speak. 
 
 "Gentlemen, we are here in the interests of a fellow- 
 citizen, Winthrop Merriford, who has been a blessin' to 
 this Territory from the minute he came into it, and the 
 friend an* helper of all of us. Now it's our time to do 
 a little for him, not because he deserves our help alone, 
 but because the thing before us is a human interest ; an' 
 the rights and wrongs of human business is our common 
 business while we 're on the Lord's footstool. Merriford, 
 teir'em what you've told me 'bout your son, Neil." 
 
 Briefly, the lawyer retold the story. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said when he had finished, "if any 
 of you know anything that will help me to unravel this 
 thing more quickly than I can do it alone, in God's name, 
 tell me now. If you are bound by any pledge whose 
 breaking would be a greater crime than the crime against 
 my son's life, then I do not ask you to say one word. 
 But if you are bound by bonds of fear or necessity," he 
 was looking at Jupe now, "if you are holding to a 
 promise whose breaking would mean a lesser crime, then 
 remember that most of the great evils in this world havo
 
 BROKEN BONDS 375 
 
 grown out of the poor judgment of men in choosing the 
 lesser of two principles of right rather than their delib 
 erate choice of wrong. St. Felix, are you willing to help 
 me here?" 
 
 Dr. St. Felix's dark face was very grave as he said : 
 
 " Gentlemen, I 'm a Georgian, with all the loyalty of a 
 Southern man to the institutions of my inheritance and 
 teachings. But I have lived in Kansas long enough to 
 see how terribly the North and the South misjudge each 
 other. I did n't come here to try to force this State into 
 the ranks of the Southern States, although I shall give 
 my vote for the establishment of slavery here. In my 
 judgment, it is the only way to control the race. You 
 knew my views from the first, yet the stanchest Free 
 State man, the rankest Abolitionist among you, has never 
 failed to show me all courtesy. And I hope I have not 
 been lacking altogether in my duty to you. All this is 
 to show into what evil hands the swing of affairs may 
 fall. You cannot judge my South by Buford's men, 
 although I must confess that Buford and other leaders 
 are accounted among our good citizens." 
 
 "St. Felix, may God hasten the day when we shall 
 know more of your kind of Southern men and they may 
 know us," Merriford said. 
 
 "But that is not my business here now," St. Felix 
 continued. " I came to Kansas to get away from a city 
 where my life had been unhappy, and to follow up one 
 man and bring him to the justice he deserves. We French 
 people may feel things in a way you colder-blooded 
 Northern folk do not. I'll be brief. I had a son I 
 loved well, you understand, Merriford. He met and 
 admired Lucy Tarleton Penwin, sister to Colonel Boni 
 face Penwin, your Lucy Tarleton, Merriford." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the lawyer. " You can't mean it."
 
 376 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Yes ; Lucy would not keep the name when she went 
 North. I '11 tell you why. My son, Pierre, met her and 
 loved her, for she was made for that. She was fond of 
 him. I believe she would have loved him some time. 
 But Pierre loved her madly. He didn't suit Boniface; 
 he was not rich enough. Boniface has been a spender 
 all his life, and he was on the verge of ruin, but he would 
 not retrench. He never will. To be brief again, he led 
 my boy astray set him to gambling in Roxbury's den, 
 a gilded hell in Atlanta. The stake, if he won enough to 
 suit the Colonel, was to be Lucy's hand. He lost. He 
 took his own life because of it. The St. Felix blood is 
 impulsive." 
 
 St. Felix paused, and Elliot, looking at him, saw a 
 tragedy the years might bring to himself, and he set his 
 purpose firm. 
 
 " Little Rosalind shall never suffer by me," he said to 
 himself. " I can see where this might end. I must 
 end it now." 
 
 "I had only one son," St. Felix went on. 
 
 " Lucy Penwin went North, not heart-broken, for she 
 had only liked Pierre. She changed her name, dropping 
 the Penwin, in her anger and sorrow, and the temporary 
 notoriety in Atlanta. I believe she did love Neil Merri- 
 ford as he deserved. Darrow, you look much like Neil." 
 
 "Yes, they are related. His father and I unraveled 
 that at Lecompton," Merriford explained. " Go on." 
 
 " Penwin gambled more and more, losing to despera 
 tion at last. He had several slaves. One, Jupe, here, 
 and his wife, he had promised never to sell, for they 
 were really Lucy's by inheritance, and she was devoted 
 to them." 
 
 Jupe clasped his big black hands, and his face was 
 drawn with grief.
 
 BROKEN BONDS 377 
 
 " Roxbury was Penwin's evil magnet. And at last he 
 put up Jupe in his need for money, and Roxbury 
 won. I believe, Merriford, Jupe would better tell the 
 rest." 
 
 St. Felix looked wearied and stricken, not only with 
 the memory of his own sorrow, but with the grief of his 
 friend as well. 
 
 Jupe rose to his full height, and there was something 
 pitiful in his child-like manner, so grotesquely out of 
 keeping with his tremendous strength. But to the stu 
 dent of human nature there was a dignity about him 
 that commanded respect. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, with courtesy, "I made a 
 promise to save my life. I sold myself for my freedom. 
 I 've been a bigger slave these months in Kansas than 
 in all the years of my life down Souf. I thought I could 
 keep my word an' write what I know and it would be all 
 right. I learn to read an' write, so I 'd find how to break 
 my bondage. What I learn tells me if I write I break 
 my promise same as if I speak it with the words of my 
 mouf. So I is no nearer out of bondage 'n I was before I 
 learned readin' an' writin'. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen, I kin be dead, but I can't be no 
 slave. I'se bound to be free. I'll break my promise. 
 I'll tell all I said I wouldn't tell, an' I may be killed. 
 But, bless the Lord, I '11 be free. 'Fore God Almighty, I 
 never be slave after that. Gimme liberty, ef death comes 
 with it." 
 
 More sublime than Patrick Henry's immortal plea, was 
 the innocent heroism of the unlettered son of an en 
 slaved race. 
 
 "'Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make 
 you free,' that's what that preacher down to Palmyry 
 preached from last Fall. It was a inspiration to all of
 
 378 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 us," Coke Wren said more to himself than to anybody 
 else. 
 
 "Jupe, I've always believed if you would tell me 
 what is on your mind you would be happier and maybe 
 safer. But I do not insist," Winthrop Merriford said. 
 
 And at last Jupe broke his bonds. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I is a free man. Miss Lucy Tarleton 
 Penwin done give me my free papers up to Boston. I 
 belong to her. Nobody else but to Miss Lucy, an' she 
 say she go home an' give my wife her free papers. Mars'r 
 Penwin never have no right to sell me to Roxbury, 'cause 
 I was n't his 'n to sell. An' I run cl'ar to Boston. Then 
 with my free papers I go back after my wife. She mean 
 the same to me that Mars'r Neil's mother mean to you, 
 Mars'r Merriford. I mean same to her you mean to little 
 Miss Rosalind, maybe, Mars'r Darrow, some day." Jupe 
 said this innocently, but it brought the blood to Elliot's 
 cheek. Merriford smiled, but Dr. St. Felix was impassive. 
 
 "Well, Jupe?" Coke Wren said. 
 
 " Gentlemen, when I git back Souf I show Mars'r Rox 
 bury my free paper, an' he turn on Penwin. Then Boni 
 face Penwin done sold hisself to the devil for a few 
 hundred dirty dollars, for he sold Miss Lucy to Rox 
 bury. Yes, sah; he gambled his own sister away, 'cause 
 gamblin' done rot his brain and dry up his heart. That 's 
 what hit done to him; that's gamblin's way. They's 
 white slaves same as black ones sometimes, an' Miss 
 Lucy Tarleton was sold body an' soul to that gam 
 blin' Roxbury for to be his wife. My pretty Miss 
 Lucy!" 
 
 Jupe's voice faltered, then he went on : 
 
 " When Miss Lucy find she done sold, she rebel. She 
 say she free an' I free an' my wife hers to make free. 
 But we ain't. They had a awful quarrel, for the Pen-
 
 BROKEN BONDS 379 
 
 wins have hot tempers. Yes, sah ; and high-stringed, all 
 of 'em. Mars'r Merriford, ef I done break you-all's heart, 
 you 'member you ask me yourself to tell you all I know. 
 An' my own heart, hit done broke long 'go." 
 
 " Yes, Jupe, go on," Merriford said gravely. 
 
 " Gentlemen, Miss Lucy she won't be sold, an' some 
 how nobody know how she's dead. When Mars'r 
 Neil Merriford go Souf she's dead. An* pretty soon 
 my wife's dead. An' when I go to Boniface Penwin, 
 he say my wife she kill Miss Lucy 'cause Miss Lucy 
 not let her get free. My wife never lef Miss Lucy all 
 pretty Miss's life, never. When I go to Boniface Penwin, 
 he say, ' You mine now, 'cause you Misses dead.' I show 
 my free papers an' he snatch 'em and tear 'em up an' say 
 I his an' he sell me to New Orleans trader right away. 
 But I run from his place to Atlanta. An' I go to Neil 
 an' tell him. He just come there. Neil goes mad-like 
 for a week, maybe more, an' not know anybody, and I 
 taken care of him. When he gits better all the Penwins 
 is in Kansas. I can't tell 'bout time but it was all las' 
 summer an* fall." 
 
 Merriford said slowly. "And you took care of my 
 boy?" 
 
 " I don't want to tell no more," the Negro pleaded. 
 
 " But you must now, Jupe ; it 's your only way to git 
 free. All that proves you were set free is gone," Coke 
 Wren put in. 
 
 "Neil Merriford never smile no more. He come to 
 Kansas, him an' me. We bound to get Colonel Penwin 
 somehow. Neil never was right in his head after he 
 found out. I could gone to Boston, but I staid with him. 
 I can't say no more." 
 
 Jupe tumbled into a limp heap in his chair and stared 
 out of the open door.
 
 380 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "How did you happen to know John Brown, Jupe?" 
 Coke asked. 
 
 " Me an' young Mars'r Merriford come into his settle 
 ment an' found a place to stay all night. We told him 
 about Penwin. Mars'r Neil did, 'cause he wasn't right, 
 an' awful tired. Them Doyles, down on Pottawatomie 
 Creek, chased us with bloodhound, and we got away 
 an' got to Brown's the day before we got I got 
 pretty near to Lawrence." 
 
 " Well, now, let 's have these Injuns talk a little. Them 
 an' me was real chummy last winter when you left me 
 an' Jupe here to run things," so Coke urged; but the 
 Indians steadfastly refused to talk. 
 
 " You talk," at last White Turkey said. 
 
 " Will you swear to what I say, or set me right ef I 'm 
 wrong?" Wren asked. 
 
 Both nodded, then sat in stolid silence while Wren 
 took up the thread of things. 
 
 " It seems, boys, that this Delaware, who 's the loyal- 
 est citizen the Nation's got outside its pale, 'cause 
 Elliot's mother took him in out of the wet last spring, 
 is boun' no harm shall ever come to her nor hers, went 
 down on the Trail one stormy night last winter, he did, 
 and took a bullet B. Penwin was aimin* at Elliot Dar- 
 row, took it into his own hide to save Mis' Darrow's 
 boy. He 's got the bullet an' knows who shot it at him. 
 Eh, White Turkey?" 
 
 " While the winds blow and the Wakarusa runs down 
 to the Kaw, me keep harm from White woman," White 
 Turkey said solemnly. 
 
 "Yes," Coke said; "and he got wind of somebody 
 goin' to git caught up with at Hole in the Rock, and he 
 thought it was Lamond and Darrow. He owned that 
 red-roan that 's carried B. Penwin to do his cussed mean-
 
 BROKEN BONDS 381 
 
 ness over the country for nearly a year. White Turkey 
 rode after Lamond and Darrow to git there and save 'em. 
 He cut out south in the rough perairie this side that ra 
 vine, an' got into it away ahead of 'em." 
 
 How clearly Elliot remembered that day when the 
 third horseman on the red-roan had followed the other 
 two, and Craig had insisted that his father rode a bay 
 colt! 
 
 "Boys, Neil Merriford and Jupe was in that ravine, 
 and White Turkey tied his horse in a thicket and slipped 
 down into the rocky run to see what was goin' on, for 
 they was high words bein' given. I'll be brief, Win- 
 throp," Coke said sympathetically, for the eyes of the 
 lawyer cut him to the heart. "A pistol shot from Neil 
 sent the bay colt down. I brought you the bullet, you 
 remember. Then they was what none of us can know 
 save them as saw it, this Red man an' this Black man ; 
 but the outcome was that Neil was wounded, an' an' 
 he was put down into that black pool an' his revolver 
 flung after him. Bear up ; be a man, Merriford." 
 
 The earth dropped from under Neil Merriford's father 
 then, and he hid his face and said no word. 
 
 " Neil was n't tryin' to kill Colonel Penwin. He meant 
 to bring him to justice for Miss Lucy's sake." Wren 
 thought talking better than silence just then. " He could 
 have killed Penwin easy as his horse, but he wasn't no 
 murderer." 
 
 "Thank heaven," Merriford murmured, and Coke 
 continued : 
 
 " Penwin 's a giant in strength, an* he was a maniac in 
 violence that day; he fixed Neil with a bullet first, then 
 he took Jupe. Now comes this man's bondage. If Jupe 
 swears not to tell, he shall be free. If he ever reveals 
 one thing, he's to fall into Penwin's clutches. The
 
 382 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Colonel could have had it out with Jupe, but he dassent 
 fight, an' Jupe didn't realize his own power proper. So 
 he promised to save his own life and be free. You can't 
 wonder at that, ner blame him, gentlemen. White 
 Turkey was witness to the whole thing, not knowin' 
 whose contention it was contendin' ; and before he could 
 git out and not be seen, Boniface Penwin 'cause the 
 Evil One's in league with him gits to the thicket, to 
 hide, an' there's a roan horse all ready-made waitin' for 
 him, whom he grabs forthwith, an' is still a-grabbin'. 
 
 " My boy ! my boy ! " moaned the lawyer. 
 
 " He would never have been quite right again, Merri- 
 ford," St. Felix said. "I knew that in Atlanta. His 
 brain was crazed and no wonder. You cannot wish 
 him back." 
 
 "And he's not in that pool, neither; tell 'em that, 
 Pelathe," Wren cried. 
 
 The young Shawnee looked up quickly at White 
 Turkey, who nodded assent. 
 
 "When the moon was one-quarter big, we go after 
 White Turkey's roan horse down there. We chase pretty 
 white squaw little way till we see better." 
 
 Elliot remembered Beth's Indian now. 
 
 "We do not find the horse, but we find young white 
 brave on top of water. We leave White Turkey's blan 
 ket in little valley where we will make a grave. Then we 
 go wrap my blanket 'round brave and bring him here. 
 White Turkey's blanket is gone. Somebody hide it 
 under rocks by there. So we bury brave all careful. 
 Then we find White Turkey's blanket by chance." 
 
 "And you never told," Merriford said. 
 
 "We did not know who, at first, and Jupe was afraid 
 
 for us to say, so we would not tell. Then " The 
 
 Indian's face was shrewd enough.
 
 BROKEN BONDS 383 
 
 " If no law protect white men, how shall Red men or 
 Black men be heard in court in these times in Kansas?" 
 
 "I understand," Merriford said. "You have all done 
 your best. And this faithful Jupe, you have been true 
 to your word and have done your duty as you saw it. 
 Will you let. me be alone now?" He grasped each hand 
 and the men filed out. 
 
 "That's my horse," White Turkey said as he passed 
 Merriford. 
 
 "Go and take it, White Turkey; I'll defend you in 
 court," the lawyer replied. 
 
 The Delaware shot across the street to where the red- 
 roan pawed the ground about a rude hitching-post. In 
 another minute a Delaware war-whoop broke the quiet 
 of Massachusetts Avenue, and Indian and horse were 
 going north with joyous speed. 
 
 As the men left the office by the front door Roxbury 
 and Jack Bobbs came into it through the rear door. 
 
 " We 've been listenin' out there," Roxbury said gruffly 
 as he walked up to the lawyer. " We 're a different sort 
 from you, Merriford, but we've got a common cause, 
 to rid the earth of that cheatin', murderin* Boniface 
 Penwin. He 's cheated me out of my own ten times over. 
 I promised Buford I 'd keep still till we settled Kansas." 
 He smiled grimly. " Kansas ain't never goin' to be set 
 tled by our kind, an' me an' Bobbs goes home soon as 
 we git that viper. So we don't keep our word no 
 longer." 
 
 Merriford stood looking at the two men, deliberating 
 before he spoke. 
 
 "Roxbury sent me to spy him out last Fall," Jack 
 Bobbs began. "I had a cabin down by Palmyry. Just 
 saved my life by goin' to church with them Darrow boys, 
 for he 'd got wind of me bein' there an* come an' hid in
 
 384 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 my shack to kill me. I went to church 'stid o* goin* in 
 again." 
 
 At that moment Colonel Boniface Penwin came hur 
 riedly into the street, seeking his horse. He stopped and 
 stared at the bit of rein left hanging where White Turkey 
 had cut it in his haste. 
 
 Roxbury and Bobbs gave a shout and, with pistols 
 aimed, rushed into the street. Penwin turned at the 
 first shout. Quick as a flash he darted around the corner 
 of the street and into the alley where the Georgians' 
 horses were tethered. Cutting the rein of the stronger 
 one, he mounted and fled, a perfect shower of bullets 
 following him. 
 
 Dr. St. Felix and Elliot, standing at the Doctor's office 
 door, saw the whole proceeding. 
 
 "The last of him in Kansas, Elliot," the Doctor said. 
 " I wish they had gotten him, for he will rise up to trouble 
 us all again. A Penwin never forgets. Come in, won't 
 you?" 
 
 Elliot had been thinking swiftly of the past events. 
 He recalled the night of the storm when Colonel Penwin 
 shrieked in terror at sight of him. 
 
 "He thought he had killed me when he shot White 
 Turkey instead of me, and I must have seemed like my 
 own ghost or the ghost of Neil Merriford at the Hole in 
 the Rock. And the night he told me I must not get in 
 Craig's way I remember how terror-stricken he looked 
 when he happened to glance at that still pool. And he 
 didn't want any more dead faces there to haunt him so 
 I was to be finished in Coleman's Cave. I must have re 
 minded him of Neil. No wonder he hates me." 
 
 But now Elliot's mind was full of another thought. 
 
 "Dr. St. Felix," the Quaker said frankly: "I think 
 I 'd better not go in now, nor any more. If I can make
 
 BROKEN BONDS 385 
 
 my plans right, I shall go East to study this fall. I will 
 not be up here any more. I am deeply grateful to you 
 for your help. Tell Rosalind I thank her too." 
 
 Dr. St. Felix had taken Elliot's hand, and he held 
 it, while his eyes were on the ground. At length he 
 looked up. 
 
 " Elliot, I understand. I saw how matters were tend 
 ing on the day I stopped at Wren's cabin to send you 
 to Nethercote's. Miss Lamond was quieting the baby 
 unmindful of you. But I understood your face that day. 
 If I saw aright it is best so, better now than later. I had 
 hoped for Rosalind's sake that it might be otherwise, for 
 you are a man of a thousand, my boy, the soul of honor, 
 a hero in courage, a gentleman in kingly courtesy, and 
 affectionate beyond the disposition of most men. God 
 bless you, Darrow." He wrung the young man's hand 
 and the two separated. 
 
 And Elliot, thinking of the Doctor's kind words, so 
 much in contrast to David Lamond's judgment of him 
 self, did not dream how much better it would have been 
 for him in a day to come had one of the Georgians' bullets 
 caught Boniface Penwin then. Before midnight the 
 Colonel was across the border-line into Missouri, and 
 the Kansas Territory never saw him again.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 WHOSE SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 
 
 I cannot remember a night so dark as to have hindered the 
 coming day, nor a storm so furious and dreadful as to prevent 
 the return of the warm sunshine and a cloudless sky. 
 
 John Brown to his Wife and Children. 
 
 WITH the passing of Colonel Boniface Penwin from 
 Kansas, Craig came into his own. His father had 
 spoken truly when he said: "You and I will follow 
 different lines of life and thought. I know it as well 
 now as when the fact is old to both of us." Wherever 
 Boniface Penwin may have been during the years be 
 fore Elliot Darrow met him again, he was not following 
 the same lines of life and thought his son was pursuing 
 in these years, else his action would not have differed 
 so widely from his son's. Dr. St. Felix also spoke truly 
 when he declared, " A Penwin never forgets." 
 
 When Craig and Lucy and Tarleton found them 
 selves entirely orphaned, they met the situation philo 
 sophically, for the turmoil of the spring and summer 
 that ,robbed them of their father or filled their home 
 with strange, loud-voiced men had made them welcome 
 a freedom from it all. Irregularly ample sums of money 
 reached them from the South, and their faithful black 
 servant was still their housekeeper. Aunt Crystal's 
 heartstrings were twined round these children whom 
 she had known from babyhood. It took little to make 
 
 386
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 387 
 
 Lucy and Tarley happy, and their impulsive natures 
 rebounded quickly from the surprise of their father's 
 sudden departure; while Craig devoted himself now to 
 the making of a good citizen. And since the West has 
 ever been magnanimous, caring not much for one's 
 ancestry, if a man acts like a man, Lawrence and the 
 Vinland Valley took the capable young Southerner at 
 his face value. 
 
 Craig did profit by his father's advice to win by seem 
 ing good will rather than by coercion. He placed no 
 restrictions on Lucy and Tarley in their friendly asso 
 ciation with Joe Darrow. Nor did he offer any check to 
 Lucy's growing interest in Mark. Mark was a big, 
 brown-haired, blue-eyed boy now, devoted madly to the 
 cause of John Brown, but in his heart he cherished a 
 fondness for Lucy's bright face and pretty Southern 
 ways and lisping accent. It would have made no differ 
 ence to him if Craig had objected to him. The boy who 
 had faced the rabid forces at Black Jack and Franklin 
 and Osawatomie wasn't likely to be disturbed because 
 a tall, slender young Southerner might object to his 
 presence. Mark thought he owned Kansas, because he 
 had surged among its warring forces with a daring that 
 was sublime. 
 
 And as for Lucy, Aunt Crystal had spoken well when 
 she said once: 
 
 "'Deed, for a fac', all our Southern 'ristocrats is one 
 thing or t' other. They is either high-stringed, or sweet 
 an' lazy. Mr. Craig, he's high-stringed; Miss Lucy, 
 she 's sweet an' lazy ; and little Mr. Tarleton, he 's bof e, 
 but most like Miss Lucy." 
 
 Lucy took to Mark by the magnetism of the attrac 
 tion of opposites. And Craig, whose acts were prompted 
 always by purely personal motives and never by the mo-
 
 388 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 tives of general welfare, found it convenient to let his 
 sister have her own way. 
 
 In October, Elliot was to go East to enter the Quaker 
 College of Haverford, near Philadelphia. After David 
 Lamond's return from Lecompton, he had waited with 
 all a young lover's eagerness to know the result of his 
 conference with his daughter. But Beth avoided meet 
 ing him, and gave him no opportunity to guess, save by 
 lack of opportunity, what the result of this interview 
 had been. At least it seemed to Elliot that she avoided 
 him. And he knew, for love is alert, how often Craig 
 visited the Lamonds, and he could guess by Craig's 
 growing popularity elsewhere how welcome he must be 
 in this home. Once, indeed, Elliot had met Beth with 
 her father on the Trail by the Hole in the Rock, but 
 the Scotchman had passed him so swiftly there was not 
 a moment for Elliot to read a "message in beautiful 
 gray eyes," if there had been one for him to read. 
 Elliot's eyes were keen, however. There was a fold of 
 lace about Beth's neck with a little V-shaped opening 
 at the front. Across this bit of white throat, he caught 
 the gleam of a tiny gold chain. And even Mark noted 
 how bright his brother's eyes were when he came in to 
 supper that night. 
 
 But now October had come. Elliot was to start East 
 soon for a two years' stay, and he determined to make 
 opportunity for himself. He was to leave Kansas on 
 Monday. On Saturday night he came to the stone cabin 
 and asked for an interview with David Lamond. 
 
 The result of the conference could have been guessed 
 by the appearance of either one when they separated. 
 David Lamond sat upright in his arm-chair looking 
 straight before him at nothing. A tear was on his 
 cheek and his hands were clinched. The tear had come
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 389 
 
 after Elliot had left. The father heart was striving with 
 the stern Scotch spirit to call him back. 
 
 " He 'd win a saint to fall from grace with that hand 
 some face and that smile, and he is as gentle and yet as 
 unbreakable as that royal father of his. If he lived any 
 where but in the West, he would probably be all right. 
 But I 'm afraid of the test. A Scotch Presbyterian will 
 fight for what is right. A Quaker will only turn the 
 other cheek. And then the boy doesn't explain why 
 he went wrong in the sacking of Lawrence. He shall 
 not be a son-in-law to me." 
 
 Elliot's face had no smile, and the little hint of sad 
 ness it wore without it was more than a hint as he 
 walked away from the Lamond cabin that night. But 
 his step was firm and his head erect. 
 
 " Two years ! A man can't go without food that long 
 and live," he said to himself. " I 'm glad I did n't prom 
 ise not to speak to her without his permission. I 'm not 
 going out of Kansas until I talk with Beth if it takes 
 me two years. I've behaved myself and waited since 
 May. Does he think that didn't take any courage? But 
 if Beth agrees with her father; if I stand in Craig Pen- 
 win's way, as he says I do, and she wants me to step 
 aside, I '11 do it then no sooner. * Until you can prove 
 to me that you are not the coward I think you are' 
 that's what he said. He'll tell me when he finds it out. 
 I won't ask him." 
 
 He turned to look back at the stone cabin faintly out 
 lined in the shadows. 
 
 "A Scotchman's strength and a Quaker's patience," 
 he murmured. " Maybe there 's something in a Scotch 
 lass's strength also." And the smile that lighted his 
 face then showed that the man had conquered himself 
 and was daring the future.
 
 390 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 There was another element beside strength and pa 
 tience ready to leap into the game, an element not 
 yet reckoned with, and that was Yankee ingenuity. 
 
 Set now in his determination, Lamond that night had 
 said to his daughter: 
 
 "Beth, whatever you and Elliot Darrow may have 
 thought of the future, I have forbidden him to consider 
 you any further; and you, for your own welfare, must 
 obey my wishes. You will thank me for that some day." 
 
 Beth, with an impenetrable expression in her gray 
 eyes, said nothing. But Lamond's word had been law 
 in that household hitherto. He did not think of any 
 change now. 
 
 The October Sabbath came, beautiful as a dream of 
 Paradise. Opalescent skies overhung a land all gray- 
 green and amber, with purple and scarlet in the hol 
 lows, and topaz and mother-of-pearl on the crest of the 
 prairie billows; and, folded round all, soft-clinging, 
 exquisite, an amethyst veil swathing the horizon, where 
 opal blended toward amber. And then it was the Sab 
 bath day, the last one Elliot was to see in Kansas for two 
 years. He was young and strong, and he was in love 
 with all a young man's strength for loving. He had 
 planned to storm the Lamond castle in the evening. The 
 same October moon that had beautified the night a year 
 ago, when love's first kiss was given, without permis 
 sion, would be pouring out its glory on a glorious land 
 to-night. The air was delicious, and to-morrow was to 
 be the day of good-bys. He would see Beth tonight. 
 
 Patty Wren had sent Coke over to ask for Beth to 
 come and spend the afternoon and take supper with 
 them. Coke looked innocently neighborly, as he said : 
 
 " Me an' Patty '11 bring her home 'bout seven or eight, 
 Mis' Lamond."
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 391 
 
 "Oh, no hurry," Beth's father said. "If she is good 
 company for you, keep her till you get ready to bring 
 her back." 
 
 David Lamond was as shrewd as he was unyielding. 
 And he smiled behind his yellow beard, for he had 
 a notion of what the Quaker would attempt to do on 
 this evening. 
 
 The third Wren's nest was on the site of the second 
 one, built with a better chimney this time. Ten minutes 
 after Coke reached home with Beth he came limping 
 into the house with a twisted ankle. 
 
 Coke's reputation for accidents was established in the 
 Vinland Valley. Late in this afternoon, when Tarley 
 Penwin, who happened by, brought word to Barrow's 
 that Patty wanted Elliot to come and do the chores and 
 tell Cokey good-bye, because he'd slipped on a sliding 
 rock in the ravine, the message met prompt response. 
 Elliot hurried away determined to make two calls before 
 he returned. 
 
 " Good-bye, mother," he said, as he kissed his mother ; 
 " there '11 be more than an ankle untwisted maybe before 
 I get back." 
 
 "So it's not your head unscrewed from your spinal 
 colyum, Ellie, we'll be glad," Mark shouted after his 
 brother. 
 
 Coke, with a bandaged ankle, sat in the doorway as 
 serious as a judge, while Elliot did the chores for the 
 evening. 
 
 Patty insisted on his staying for supper, and Elliot 
 washed his hands in the basin outside the back door, 
 and came smiling in, putting on his coat as he came. 
 Beth was sitting in a low chair, as he had seen her on the 
 day he left her to go to the rescue of Mrs. Nethercote. 
 Elliot caught his breath, and his face was colorless for
 
 392 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 a moment. Then the blood surged up into his cheeks 
 and his own eyes were illumined, for he had read the 
 message for him in the gray eyes of Beth Lamond. 
 
 Patty and Coke chirped and twittered about, busy at 
 nothing, and the plain little meal was a banquet to all of 
 them. 
 
 "I promised Mis' Lamond we'd git Beth home by 
 seven or eight to-night," Coke said, " but her pa, he said 
 they wasn't no hurry. Now, Elliot, I'm bound to ask 
 you to do it for us. I can't go, and I'm not really in 
 shape to have Patty leavin* me." 
 
 " Oh, I '11 accommodate you," Elliot said, gaily. " I 'm 
 always willing to help a neighbor out of trouble when 
 I can." 
 
 "I'd better shut the door so's you won't take cold, 
 Cokey," Patty said, in an unnecessarily loud voice, after 
 the good-bys were said. 
 
 Something hit her shoulder as she turned from the 
 door. It was the bandage from Coke's ankle, and Coke 
 himself was standing on his head beside the hearth. Then 
 they joined hands and executed a little bird waltz about 
 the room. 
 
 "When I git that queer feelin', top of my head, I 
 know somethin' good's goin' to happen 'fore night," 
 Patty said, " an' I waked up with it this mornin'." 
 
 "When I git a sprained ankle that gits well in two 
 seconds, it 's always a sign of good luck," Coke declared, 
 and then the two sat down and gossiped to their hearts' 
 content. 
 
 The gracious day slipped through a purple twilight 
 into a moonlit evening. 
 
 There are nights so enchanting, they seem to restore 
 The original beauty of Eden; so tender, 
 They woo every soul to a willing surrender
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 393 
 
 Of feverish longing; so holy, withal, 
 
 That a broad benediction seems sweetly to fall 
 
 On the world. 
 
 Such was the October night in the Vinland Valley 
 into which Beth Lamond and Elliot Darrow walked 
 together. They had not spoken to each other, save with 
 their eyes maybe, since the May afternoon at Mrs. El- 
 bert's cabin, and at first a strange restraint fell on them. 
 But the witchery of the twilight haze, and the splendor 
 of the grand old moon God meant for lovers if their 
 loves be holy, soon had them in the evening's spell, and 
 all the way was a dream of joy. It was twilight still 
 when they came to the Hole in the Rock. The waters 
 were placid and every graceful vine about the dark 
 ledges swung in artistic drapery over the serenity below. 
 The place was picturesquely weird, and to the innocent 
 girl and the man of clean hands and a pure heart it was 
 full of fantastic charm. But Beth came closer to Elliot's 
 side as the shadows deepened, and he drew her hand 
 through his arm and held it there. 
 
 They reached the edge ot the bluff above the Vinland 
 Valley just as the full moon swung over the eastern 
 horizon, and they sat down on the old seat of the Octo 
 ber before, and were silent. 
 
 " I start for Philadelphia tomorrow, Beth," Elliot said, 
 at last. 
 
 Beth was leaning forward looking out at the beautiful 
 valley. Even in the moonlight her hair was richly 
 golden, and her eyes were very dark in the soft white 
 beams. 
 
 " I went to see your father last night. You probably 
 know what he said to me at least he promised me that he 
 would inform you. I could not leave without see 
 ing you, and I should have stormed the stone house
 
 394 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 tonight if Coke hadn't sprained his accommodating 
 ankle. 'Cokey* is a jewel." 
 
 Then they were silent, for a silvery light was filling 
 the valley and they wanted to keep the picture of it. At 
 length Beth turned, and the radiance glorified her face 
 for Elliot Darrow as it was glorifying the valley for 
 both of them. 
 
 "How long will a Quaker's patience last?" she asked, 
 softly. 
 
 "So long as a Scotch lassie's strength will endure," 
 he murmured, and he put his arms about her, and drew 
 her close to him, for she was his to love, and some day 
 to claim for his own to keep. 
 
 "I'm glad you wore this dress, Beth; I love the 
 Lamond plaid," Elliot said. 
 
 She had on a soft cashmere, with the clan tones run 
 ning through it. The gold chain was about her neck, and 
 the dainty curve of the pink cheek above it was 
 bewitching. 
 
 " I shall be away two years. I '11 go to my cousins, the 
 Osbornes of Boston, in vacation. But I 'm coming home 
 two June-times away." 
 
 Beth looked up at Elliot with a thrill of joy in the 
 possession of such a love as his, and they pledged their 
 faith again in the sweet Kansas moonlight of that Octo 
 ber evening. 
 
 Elliot told Beth good-bye on the stone steps, beside 
 the vine-covered pillars where he had first found his 
 heart-hunger that only she could satisfy, and this time 
 the golden head nestled against his shoulder for a glad 
 long minute, and no shadows darkened the gentle 
 moonbeams falling about them. 
 
 At the open door he stopped, while Beth's mother 
 lighted the candles in the living room, that David La-
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 395 
 
 mond might know he had brought Beth home, and with a 
 courteous greeting he bade both the father and mother 
 good-bye. As he walked down the Trail in the moon 
 light, the same thought came to both parents the 
 thought that whatever might be their judgment of his 
 character, Nature had done much for the young Quaker. 
 
 Two years pass quickly enough to a middle-aged Con 
 gressman, uncertain of reelection. To two young Kan 
 sas pioneers the time was long but not unhappy. When 
 Elliot came home for his first vacation, he was tali, 
 broad-shouldered, and muscular. He had a student's 
 clear complexion, and soft, white hands; his clothing 
 was well-fitted, and his manners had more of polish, but 
 he carried a boy's face and a boy's light heart. He had 
 added vocal music to his accomplishments, with training, 
 and his rich voice was fuller and sweeter in its scope and 
 power. 
 
 The Lawrence girls fulfilled Mrs. Elbert's expectation 
 and "went crazy" over him, to her great enjoyment. 
 Popularity came easily to him, the best homes welcomed 
 him, and the charming social leaders made clear their 
 preference for his company. But the light of his dark 
 eyes deepened and burned for only one, and Beth's cup 
 of joy was full. For although the father had not varied 
 a line from his stern decree, the two were young, and 
 the Scotch endurance and the Quaker patience broke 
 not at all. 
 
 A brief, busy summer passed, and Elliot was away 
 again for his last two years of college. 
 
 Meanwhile Craig Penwin fought stubbornly for his 
 claim, and he knew how to fight. He never staid a min 
 ute too long, nor put Beth on the defensive. Slowly but 
 persistently he pursued his life aim, favored by the 
 Scotchman, and accepted by everybody else as the finest
 
 396 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 young fellow in the Territory, and just a match for Eliza 
 beth Lamond. It came to be accepted at last that the 
 thing was established, because it should be so. 
 
 Beth had abundantly fulfilled Colonel Penwin's proph 
 ecy that she would be called the beauty of Kansas, and 
 back of golden hair, and cheeks abloom with the tint of 
 the wild rose, was the splendid young womanhood of 
 strength and beauty. 
 
 The border strife waxed and waned and flamed forth 
 again with deadly fierceness, for the struggle that was 
 to become of nation-wide virulence was always at high 
 tide on the frontier. And if squatter sovereignty gave 
 Kansas Territory to the Free-State party in numbers, 
 the claim was maintained by violence alone. 
 
 Meanwhile little Territorial towns were springing up 
 or fading away in the chance fortunes of the day. Be 
 yond Palmyra, a school for higher learning the Baker 
 University, of a prosperous later history took root in 
 the unfriendly soil. Lucy and Tarley Penwin and Mark 
 and Joe Darrow were among its earliest students. For 
 Mark and Lucy these days of schooling were a God-send, 
 tying their young minds back to the culture the harsh 
 frontier had withheld. Lucy, " sweet and lazy," as Aunt 
 Crystal had declared, needed the spur to her natural 
 gift of intelligence; and for Mark, it curbed the lure of 
 the raiding spirit, growing on both sides of the border. 
 The West owes much to the silent, certain influences of 
 her early schools, making men, instead of highwaymen, 
 out of her vigorous boys. 
 
 Mark's hero had left the regions round the Vinland 
 Valley now, but the name of John Brown was heard 
 from ocean to ocean. There must have been magic in 
 it, for never by chance does a name become fixed in 
 history and immortalized by the ages. He did not seek
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 397 
 
 notoriety. He wanted no official rank nor honor of 
 leadership. He was not an organizer of federations. His 
 acts were circumscribed by his clear sense of his own 
 duty to humanity. The cost of it to him or to anybody 
 else he left with the Power that put this duty before 
 him. His methods will be forgotten, as are forgotten 
 long since the methods of Alexander, and Caesar, and 
 Charlemagne, and William the Silent, and Cromwell, 
 and Henry of Navarre. 
 
 Time ran on to the November of 1859. John Brown, 
 for the tragedy of Harper's Ferry, was in the Jefferson 
 County jail in Virginia, awaiting his execution. He was 
 old and sick and wounded, but he was loaded with fet 
 ters and chained to the floor of his cell and guarded 
 night and day so great was the fear of the great man 
 in the minds of little men! 
 
 In Kansas no rain had fallen for months, except a 
 few tantalizing drops that sizzled and left scarcely a 
 pellet of mud on the parched ground. The Vinland Val 
 ley was a barren waste, save for the little growths that 
 had struggled through the season in the most sheltered 
 nooks of the ravines. The terrible drouth that fell upon 
 the West from the midsummer of 1859 until November 
 of 1860 seemed the final test of the freedom-loving pio 
 neers. For now the land they had bought with brain 
 and brawn and martyr blood was burned by the ven 
 geance of Nature, turned ruffian. Let him who doubts 
 the heroism of an enduring people read the history of 
 that time of peril and power. 
 
 On a November day, Winthrop Merriford and John 
 Speer had come to the Vinland Valley and were in coun 
 sel at the Darrow home. David Lamond and Coke 
 Wren, with other settlers, were in the company. The 
 day was warm for November, and the men were grouped
 
 398 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 about the open door among the cedars, with Isabel Dar- 
 row and Patty Wren and Mrs. Lamond listening from 
 the doorstep. 
 
 "What is to be the end?" Merriford asked. His 
 eyes were gazing westward toward the ridge beyond 
 which was the grave of his lost son, Neil. 
 
 "For John Brown, the gallows in December," John 
 Speer replied. 
 
 " For the Valley here, the blessed miracle of the rain, 
 and a land of plenty when the Good Bein' sees fit. I 
 want to know now, if them Israelites meandered forty 
 year waitin' for water in the desert, we can wait some, 
 too. We've got more grit inside us an* less sand out 
 side us, I reckon," Coke Wren averred. "An* Noah 
 kicked some considerable, and went and got beastly 
 drunk and disorderly afterward, 'cause he had to put 
 up with forty days of water. I reckon that old ark was 
 a caution to snakes when she hit Mount Ararat. Gimme 
 Mount Oread an* a general Kansas drouth, gentlemen, 
 an' keep your Ararat an' floods." 
 
 "Coke's a comfort, anyhow," Merriford said, with a 
 smile. "But what is before us and the Nation?" 
 
 " For Kansas, admission as a Free- State finally. We 
 must win to victory at last," Hiram Darrow said, with 
 a voice of assurance. 
 
 "But for the Nation, civil war." David Lamond's 
 face was full of a stern courage. "There is no other 
 end to conflicts such as we have known for these five 
 years here in Kansas. It will come, and it must come 
 soon." 
 
 "I'm ready for it," one after another of the men 
 declared. 
 
 "But is this all?" Merriford asked. 
 
 Then Isabel Darrow spoke. It was from his mother
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 399 
 
 that Elliot had inherited his rich, deep voice. Her tone 
 was ever gentle, but firm and full of power. 
 
 " No, friends, this is not all. Beyond these ends you 
 predict so surely, there lies the greatest purpose of all 
 the purpose for which John Brown is to executed next 
 month the enfranchisement of slavery; that is the 
 future of our Nation. Never again will the westward- 
 moving frontier, under the American flag, see a border 
 strife such as this Kansas warfare has been. There will 
 be crime, and injustice, and bloodshed before the West 
 is reclaimed. But never again can brutality, and treason, 
 and atrocity reach this flood-tide of misrule and misery 
 and martyrdom; for that which has put the spur and 
 power into it is human slavery, and that must perish." 
 
 The Quaker woman's face was exquisite in its sweet, 
 womanly beauty and intellectual power. And every 
 man in that company listened with reverence to her ear 
 nest declaration, as she added: 
 
 " The rope that hangs John Brown should be a strong 
 one. For when the South destroys that stern old chief 
 tain of freedom, it will destroy at the same time its 
 cherished institution for which he perishes, and John 
 Brown and human slavery will swing to their death from 
 the same gibbet." 
 
 "Amen!" came the fervent response from the com 
 pany. And then the talk became general. 
 
 "Mis' Darrow, where 's Elliot now finishing his 
 college to Haverford?" Patty asked. 
 
 David Lamond listened for the answer. 
 
 "No; he's at Boston now with our relatives. The 
 drouth cut him out of this year of schooling. He will 
 not finish until '61," Mrs. Darrow explained. 
 
 " The Osbornes are delighted with him, too, Mrs. Dar 
 row," Winthrop Merriford said. "He's pretty busy,
 
 400 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 reading medicine and working hard, they write me. Also 
 they say he is very popular with everybody, and espe 
 cially the young folks. Elliot is a charming fellow. No 
 wonder the young ladies admire him." 
 
 Long ago Isabel Darrow had foreseen this hour. A 
 man of magnetic personal power whom men would 
 admire, and women would love, beyond the prejudice 
 of mother-pride her intelligence told her this would be 
 the heritage of her son. 
 
 Lamond pictured his own Elliot Darrow there, popu 
 lar, of course, but lacking still the stern strength he 
 wanted in a son-in-law. 
 
 A month later, old John Brown, who had fought the 
 good fight, and kept the faith, finished his course. 
 
 When the April of '61 came, with its spring-time 
 beauty, to the Kansas prairies, the Civil War had come, 
 and Kansas, so much the immediate cause, was still in 
 the path of the tornado. Up from her prairies and val 
 leys, again the loyal-hearted men came hurrying, to build 
 now a wall of defence for the Nation and to keep from 
 stain and dishonor the flag of their country. 
 
 Hiram Darrow, true to his Quaker principles, stead 
 fastly refused to take up arms; and the heroism it cost 
 him to hold to his beliefs was akin to that which staid 
 John Brown on the day of his great promotion. But 
 Darrow held firm. 
 
 Craig Penwin sought out David Lamond with a 
 loyalty that overjoyed the Scotchman. 
 
 " You, a Southerner, by inheritance and training, a be 
 liever in slavery, yet you want to enlist for the Union?" 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Craig. "It is my flag and my 
 Government. I'm a citizen of the United States, not 
 Of the South nor of the North."
 
 Lamond grasped his hand and wrung it eagerly. 
 
 " Craig Penwin, I am not blind. I have watched your 
 patient devotion to my daughter. She is hardly yet old 
 enough for the responsibility of a home, but, my boy, she 
 is yours, if you will it so." 
 
 "And she wills it, too," Craig added, but his heart 
 was burning. " Shall we settle this before we leave for 
 the front?" 
 
 " I am ready to give my blessing to-day, and Craig, it 
 shall bf as I wish." 
 
 Craig understood, and the triumph of having over 
 come a worthy, powerful rival was mixed with the joy 
 of that hour. 
 
 And Beth? With a daughter's love and sorrow, and 
 dread of war for her father, would the Scotch strength 
 measure up to the Quaker patience now? Beth had 
 never seemed so beautiful to her father before. Will 
 ingly now, he could give her up to the fine young South 
 erner, and he smiled on her, and told her of his pride 
 and his love. 
 
 In the evening Beth sat on the steps by the vine-clad 
 pillars of the porch. The stone cabin, like the " Dar- 
 rarat" and many more of the settlers' homes round 
 about, had given place to a larger structure. Nearly all 
 the farmhouses of the Vinland Valley showed marks of 
 comfort. But Beth had pleaded for the little stone- 
 floored porch and rough pillars, when the cabin became 
 a prettier dwelling. 
 
 The evening was balmy. The tender young leaves 
 were just unfolding on the vines and there was a shim 
 mer of green on the woodland. The stars would be 
 out soon, and the twilight was deepening. Beth won 
 dered if Elliot, so far away to-night, might be looking 
 up at the same stars, and remembering her. Or was
 
 402 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 he forgetting his Kansas sweetheart with all that Boston 
 had to offer. And now she was face to face with her own 
 battle, for her father's purpose was clear to her. 
 
 Some one was striding across the prairie instead of 
 following the main Trail. The shadows were shot 
 through with the after-sunset light, and in their glow 
 Beth saw Elliot Darrow walking up the path with a 
 swift-springing step. It had been long since she had 
 seen him, but all the lonely longing of the time was lost 
 in that one glad moment. Elliot Darrow, the same, only 
 more manly, it seemed to the Scotch lassie. Beth 
 Lamond, only more beautiful to the Quaker, and he 
 clasped both of her hands and bent to read the message 
 of gray eyes. 
 
 "I have my locket yet," he murmured. 
 
 "And I have my chain," she answered, softly, and 
 then she added: 
 
 "When did you come home, and why? All the men 
 here except your father are going to enlist soon. That 's 
 all we think of in Kansas." 
 
 "I came home three hours ago. I'm going to stay 
 three weeks. I would have enlisted in a Massachusetts 
 regiment, but I wanted to go out from Kansas. Here 's 
 where I belong, and I wanted to see you again, for war 
 is an uncertain proposition to cowards." 
 
 "You, Elliot Darrow? Are you going to fight for 
 the Union? I thought you wouldn't do it. What has 
 changed you?" And Beth Lamond's face was bright 
 with joy and wonder. 
 
 "You interrogation point! Yes, I'm going to fight 
 for the Union. My mind changed the day when Jones's 
 men burned Lawrence and I watched that red rag wave 
 over the Eldridge House, where the Star Spangled Ban 
 ner should have been. I 'd like to be a color-bearer and
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 403 
 
 wave the flag of the Union above all the banners set up 
 against it. And as to what your father may say, I'm 
 not enlisting for him, but for the Nation. But would it 
 help the cause of our union, Beth, if I spoke to him 
 again? Has he changed any toward me?" 
 
 Beth shook her head sadly. " No, Elliot. He would n't 
 believe you were sincere." 
 
 " When the war is over, if my life is spared, I 'm com 
 ing back to Kansas; and then, if there is a civil war, or 
 only a border struggle in the Valley, I 'm going to claim 
 my own." He held her hand in his close grasp. " After 
 I serve my country, I shall not wait for anybody's mind 
 to change, except yours, dearie." 
 
 "When you come home again, Elliot " She 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Shall I bring a Boston girl for my bride?" 
 
 " Oh, no, no." And Beth clung to his arm. 
 
 "Come to Kansas when you want " 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Yes, Elliot." 
 
 "Then we are all right. Now let's go in. I have 
 hardly seen mother yet. I must run back home, and 
 I'm not going without speaking to your father and 
 mother. I 'm not that kind of a coward." 
 
 And certainly he was not. David Lamond chafed 
 under a restraint he could not break when the young 
 Quaker was present. It was not so before those college 
 years. Now the boy, all boyish still, and young, and 
 courteous, put up a defence Lamond chose not to meet 
 with violence yet. But it changed not the final stern 
 decree in the older mind. 
 
 June-time brought the enlistment of soldiers, and 
 July saw the Kansas men taking the field. In the brief 
 space before their going away Elliot saw Beth every
 
 404 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 day, and the joy of that sweet summer-time came back 
 to him in many a lonely vigil on the tented field. And 
 amid the roar of cannon, when dangers crowded, and 
 death hovered near, the message of beautiful gray eyes, 
 with the Madonna face of a Quaker mother, made the 
 service for his country a service of joy. When their last 
 good-byes were said, Beth slipped a silken handkerchief 
 into Elliot's hand. 
 
 " It has my colors, the Lamond plaid. Keep it close 
 to the red, white and blue," she said. 
 
 All the while Craig bided his time in sullen anger, 
 and when the opportunity came, he demanded his own 
 of David Lamond. 
 
 "We must wait a little longer, my boy," the father 
 said. "We have a bigger service now before us. The 
 reward is home and happiness for both of us. I have 
 promised you that. When the time is ripe, I '11 settle the 
 matter. The boy is fickle as well as weak. You notice 
 how popular he is, and attractive to most people." 
 
 Craig had noticed this carefully. 
 
 "He'll change himself, and, at the last, Beth would 
 not disobey me when she knows I am choosing for her 
 own happiness. But we must not be too rash right now." 
 
 Craig was forced to submit. 
 
 When Craig went to the war, he brought Lucy and 
 Tarley, with Aunt Crystal, up to Lawrence. Dr. St. 
 Felix had not entered the ranks of either side yet, and 
 Craig put his brother and sister under the doctor's pro 
 tection. Lucy was a young lady now, impulsive like 
 her father, but kindly natured, with pretty manners and 
 a soft Southern voice. Mark was still devoted to her, 
 and she led him a merry chase which Mark really en 
 joyed. Strangely enough, he was not as eager to join 
 the army as he had been to join John Brown : partly be-
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 405 
 
 cause he had had a taste of war already, in the most 
 unjust and irregular form; partly because he was im 
 pulsive and changeable in his moods; but mostly 
 because his mother felt in those first years that one son 
 was sufficient sacrifice for a home to offer. 
 
 Craig's last interview with Beth was pathetic for him. 
 The two had been much together, and Craig was won 
 derfully companionable when he chose to be. A sort 
 of friendship freedom had come with the association 
 because Craig would not put Beth to the test of refusing 
 him any attention. His wooing was of the kind that fills 
 a life so full of necessary pleasure that the days grow 
 barren without it. Beth was surprised to find how 
 grieved she felt at the parting. And Craig, to whom 
 the girl meant the best that life can offer, could not 
 keep the sorrow of separation from showing in his face. 
 
 "That's a pretty chain you wear," he said, as he 
 lingered over his good-bye. There was a tender light in 
 his deep blue eyes, and all that was best in him was 
 pleading there. 
 
 "I like it," Beth replied, while a little deeper bloom 
 touched her fair cheek. 
 
 "Would you let me take it for a keepsake?" Craig 
 asked. " I '11 give it back to you when I come home." 
 
 " It is n't mine to give," she said. 
 
 "Oh, an heirloom, dear to the family. I can under 
 stand. It is very dainty, and of an unusual pattern. 
 I just wanted a keepsake from you." Craig's tone said 
 more than his words. 
 
 "Then I'll give you a golden chain of good will," 
 Beth said, frankly. "That's a great deal to give," she 
 added, and there was a twinkle in her gray eyes, "for 
 you needn't ever lose it if you are real good." 
 
 Her good-bye was too sincerely and frankly regretful
 
 406 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 for Craig to misunderstand her, but he cherished his 
 hope still, because he willed his future doggedly, and 
 life without her now he refused to consider. 
 
 "She would care for me at last if that good-looking 
 Quaker was out of the way," he said to himself, " and he 
 must get out soon. My father was right about him. He 
 is a power that I must overcome, and I shall not stop 
 to consider the means. But he may change his mind, 
 or maybe " 
 
 Craig's thin lips closed with a sharp line across his 
 glistening teeth. If some half-formed evil wish came 
 to him as he thought of the fortunes of war, it was be 
 cause of his passion for a girl whom he esteemed for 
 her strength of character as much as he loved her for 
 herself. In his secret heart he knew that if King David 
 needed any help in getting Uriah to the front in this 
 Civil War, it would not be for lack of Craig Penwin's 
 assistance. 
 
 With the beginning of the war, money for the Pen- 
 wins ceased to come from the South, and Lucy and 
 Tarley found themselves without support. Then the 
 two members of the family who were " sweet and lazy," 
 as Aunt Crystal had declared, proved their independence 
 of their "high-stringed" relatives. 
 
 "Papa's in the Rebel army and Craig's in the Union 
 army," Lucy said to Mark. "Tarley and I must do 
 for ourselves now." 
 
 Their brief schooling in the little college beyond Pal 
 myra helped them much. By tutoring, and the making 
 of pretty laces and fine sewing, Lucy joined finances 
 with Tarley's funds from any work a boy could secure. 
 So these two, bred in the luxury of the South, came 
 soon to compass their own support in the independent 
 West.
 
 SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 407 
 
 By midsummer the Kansas soldiers were far afield 
 and in the mutations of chance the two young men from 
 the Vinland Valley found themselves in the same com 
 pany. Their captain first, and later their colonel, was 
 David Lamond. 
 
 With the second Bull Run, Dr. St. Felix went East 
 to join the Confederacy. When Fort Donaldson fell, 
 Mark entered the Union army and went down the Mis 
 sissippi River with General Grant through Corinth and 
 Shiloh. Then he swung into Arkansas and the South 
 west, and the Vinland Valley saw him only once again 
 until after the martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 His battlefield was in the lines of perpetual peril, and 
 no danger was so threatening, no chance so daring, no 
 risk so tremendous, that it could hold the Quaker boy 
 back from its challenge. He seemed to bear a charmed 
 life, for in all the deadly way no bullet nor bayonet ever 
 reached him, and his comrades still relate the tale of 
 his reckless bravery. No wonder his hair was white at 
 forty-five! It was turning to gray when he came back 
 to the Vinland Valley. 
 
 But all Mark's service grew from the inspiration that 
 John Brown put into his boy-soul. He fought not 
 against the South's principle of states rights, but for 
 his own notion of human rights. 
 
 On the western frontier the war was least dignified, 
 least effective, and most vengeful a continuing of the 
 old border struggle of ambush and assassination. Kan 
 sas, lying between the South and the North, with the 
 rebellious Confederacy on the east and the menace of 
 hostile Indians on the west, became a storm center for 
 terrific forces outside the swing of military justice and 
 recognized laws of warfare. The struggle here was a 
 vendetta strife where quarter was neither asked nor
 
 408 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 given. But the fighting strength of Kansas was under 
 enlistment in the armies of the North. The men who, 
 against bullet, sword, and fire-brand, had stood solidly 
 for the freedom of Kansas were offering their lives now 
 for the larger freedom, whose symbol is the Stars and 
 Stripes. And while John Brown's body lay mouldering 
 in the tomb, in these men loyal to his life purpose 
 his soul went marching on.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 
 
 Despots atop, a wild clan below, 
 Such is the Gaul from long ago. 
 
 James Russell Lowell. 
 
 FOR two years the vendetta warfare harassed the 
 border. Kansas outlaws, true to no flag, raided 
 across the eastern boundary. Missouri guerrillas, more 
 dangerous to their own state than the Kansas in 
 vaders were, scourged both sides of the line, leaving a 
 trail of blood and ashes in their wake. Among the 
 Kansas outlaws the names of leaders and followers are 
 alike lost in oblivion. Either they repudiated their out 
 law course and became respectable citizens, or they 
 dropped out of sight entirely. From these guerrilla 
 bands sprang many infamous highwaymen of later years 
 whose names clogged the criminal records. Their 
 leader, William Clarke Quantrill, became at once the 
 Cain and Judas of the West. 
 
 It was the Summer of 1863. 
 
 In the annals of our Nation the Summer of 1863 is 
 without a parallel. When the battle of Gettysburg 
 shook the world with its tremendous explosion of human 
 passions, and civil war hung like a millstone on the 
 Nation's neck, even the beardless boys of Kansas shoul 
 dered their guns and marched away to fill up the ranks 
 under the starry flag of the Union. The state became 
 
 409
 
 410 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 then more than ever a prey to the guerrilla bands who 
 plundered and slaughtered with the old-time form of the 
 border ruffian. 
 
 In victory or defeat war breaks the mothers' hearts. 
 Isabel Darrow's dark hair had silvery threads in its 
 silken waves, and lines of sorrow were on her fair face. 
 
 The early August days had come and the summer 
 harvests were garnered. Hiram and Isabel sat in the 
 shade of the cedars looking down the westward line of 
 the old Trail. 
 
 "We have only one boy left," Isabel said to her hus 
 band, as the two watched Joe Darrow and Tarley Pen- 
 win riding away toward Lawrence. "Will the war last 
 long enough to take him, too?" 
 
 " Let us hope not," Hiram answered, guardedly. " Joe 
 is only seventeen. The war cannot last until he is 
 twenty-one. What chums he and Tarleton have always 
 been!" 
 
 "Yes," his wife murmured. "And Elliot and Craig 
 are in the East in the same company under Colonel 
 Lamond now, and Mark's heart has been set on Lucy all 
 these years." 
 
 Hiram Darrow smiled. "They are oddly matched," 
 he said. 
 
 " And the strangest thing or it all is that the father of 
 these companions of our boys tried once to take the life 
 of one of them. What a sad and tragic career Penwin 
 led! "he added. 
 
 "And may be leading still," Isabel suggested, "but 
 we will not blame the children. When Craig was here 
 on his furlough, he told Mrs. Lamond that the Colonel 
 was in the Rebel army. But the boy is loyal to the 
 Union." 
 
 "I did not see much of Craig," her husband said.
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 411 
 
 "He was at Lamond's a great deal, which is but nat 
 ural, of course." 
 
 "Of course," Mrs. Darrow responded, and neither 
 spoke of what both were thinking. 
 
 Isabel had given Elliot the little gold chain and she 
 knew it stood for a pledge between Beth and her son. 
 Craig had been at home on a five days' furlough in May, 
 and most of his time had been given to the Lamonds, 
 for he carried many messages from his colonel. 
 
 One message intrusted to Craig, however, he never 
 delivered. It said for David Lamond was the soul of 
 honor that the young color-bearer of the regiment, 
 Elliot Darrow, had not yet failed to do a soldier's part 
 not yet. 
 
 When Joe and Tarley passed into the woodland on the 
 Trail, the Quaker turned toward his wife. 
 
 " Isabel, thee has been a brave woman to give up two 
 boys, but thee will be braver still. Joe and Tarley are 
 going to Lawrence to enlist. There is a camp of a 
 dozen boys there already and by the end of the week 
 there will be eighteen or twenty of them. They are not 
 supplied with arms yet, but they go into training 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Isabel looked at her husband with that courage only 
 women possess. 
 
 "Each year takes one," she said, slowly. "The tax 
 is heavy on our homes and hearts." 
 
 "It is a crime that only the light of future history 
 can prove," Hiram said, sadly. "I have had to pay the 
 price in ridicule and censure and insult because I read 
 too literally the gentle order, 'Love your enemies,' be 
 cause to me war is murder. And yet I have tried to 
 serve my State." 
 
 Isabel looked at her husband's scholarly face where
 
 412 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 kindness and firmness were written, and she could under 
 stand why her boys were good soldiers. 
 
 "Hiram, thy service will match the soldiers' strug 
 gles," she said, gently. "Not all the real defenders of 
 a State are on its battlefields. Wars must end, but 
 down all the future years will the battle with ignorance 
 be waged. Think of the power of John Speer and his 
 class of men with their independent printing-presses. 
 They are defending Kansas, no less than Lane and 
 Plumb and Moonlight and all the soldier heroes whose 
 names must be immortal." 
 
 " I have no printing-press, Isabel," Darrow said, with 
 a smile. 
 
 "But thy power is measureless," his wife insisted. 
 "From the beginning it has been the greater part to 
 build up schools ; to match the spelling-book against the 
 shotgun; the rules of grammar against the rules of 
 military strategy; the college dome against battlemented 
 fortress. In Gettysburg great generals overcame great 
 generals in a noble cause. But the cost, oh, Hiram Dar 
 row, the cost of conquest in that victory ! " 
 
 "Its value history alone must judge, dearie. We can 
 read our own duty only by the light given to us," Hiram 
 said. 
 
 "And by that light,'* Isabel responded, "I see thy 
 power increase. In the legislature last Winter, it was 
 for thee and citizen-soldiers like thyself to win for 
 Kansas her great schools for higher learning. When 
 the University thy influence helped most to create shall 
 stand some day upon Mount Oread, Lawrence, over 
 which it keeps guard, will not be an altar for blood 
 offerings ; and border wars will exist only in the memo 
 ries of a cruel age. For the bloodless victories of higher 
 learning will win the land to fruitfulness and beauty.
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 413 
 
 Whoever wears the honors of war, the honors of peace 
 must come to men like thee." 
 
 So these two, seeing far into the future, sat in the 
 August evening in the home the war was leaving child 
 less now and talked of the larger views of life. And 
 by such as these two does a state grow to Empire. 
 
 In the shadows of the same August night, in the Mis 
 souri woods, a guerrilla band of three hundred men 
 was gathered. The night was hot, and in the woodland, 
 intensely dark, little fire smudges here and there about 
 the camp drove off the mosquitoes, and dimly revealed 
 the faces and forms of men whom darkness flattered 
 more than daylight did. Heavy, rough, reckless men 
 they were, and as they sprawled about in the shadows, 
 or crouched in the faint gloom, there was about them a 
 suggestion of the jungle beast, mingled with fatal human 
 cunning. Their dress was of the frontier type, with 
 heavy boots outside of coarse pantaloons; their hats, 
 flung slouchily at their heads, were of soft felt, with 
 brims flared up defiantly in front, or rolling above the 
 ear. They were decked with quill or plume, or squirrel's 
 tail, or maybe some bit of tawdry jewelry, or whisky or 
 tobacco label. 
 
 But the badge of this order was the overshirt which 
 each man wore. This garment was made of durable 
 stuff, cut low in front, with a slit on the bosom, finished 
 with a rosette or bit of ruffling. The slit with the four 
 pockets and sometimes the tail was faced with a bright 
 fabric. These shirts varied in color from brightest red 
 to dun and gray, and the fine needlework the daylight 
 would show on some of them told that some woman's 
 hand had made it. Their fire-arms were light but dan 
 gerous, mostly the Colt's Navy revolver, and each man
 
 414 A WALL OP MEN 
 
 of the three hundred wore two of them at least, while 
 many had four, or even six. Men do not carry weapons 
 they cannot use expertly. The six-gunned men must 
 have been ferocious creatures, for all of the guerrilla 
 bands were dead-shots, and when a man can take a 
 score of human lives in five minutes, he must have the 
 ferocity that would shame the jungle tiger. 
 
 The leader of this company sat facing the group gath 
 ered irregularly about him. He was a slender man, 
 tanned and unshaven, but beardless, and he bore all the 
 rough marks of woods life about him. In the uncer 
 tain smudgy light his face was not easily seen, and the 
 less of light it had the better for it. Roman nose, pale 
 complexion, reddish hair, sensual lips, shut with cruel 
 looseness; expressionless countenance, and inhuman 
 eyes of uncertain shallow blue, save when the tiger in 
 him stirred; then they were green, toning to yellow, 
 with heavy upper lids dropping strangely over them like 
 a curtain that was dropped between himself and human 
 mercy such was William Clarke Quantrill on this Au 
 gust night in his guerrilla camp in the Missouri woods. 
 But the name can be set only in letters of gore, for no 
 other American citizen ever took so many human lives 
 in wanton murder as this guerrilla chieftain and out 
 law monster who harassed the Kansas border fifty years 
 ago. 
 
 The men about him were the border forces under their 
 captains who had met here in council for the accomplish 
 ment of a common purpose. That purpose their chief 
 had stated months before to the Confederate leaders in 
 Virginia : 
 
 Kansas should be laid waste at once. 
 
 With this purpose Virginia had no concern. It was a 
 Western ruffian's idea, and border warfare differed
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 415 
 
 mightily from the skill and judgment displayed by the 
 West Point men who commanded the able armies of the 
 Southern Confederacy. With such as Quantrill, Lee 
 and Jackson had no more fellowship than Grant and 
 Sheridan could have had. 
 
 But to these bands of men in the dark woods' shadows 
 the demand " Kansas must be laid waste " made a different 
 appeal, and here Quantrill's genius found clay for his 
 potter's wheel. They gathered about their leader in the 
 hot black shadows, eager for any work of his planning. 
 The heavy eyelids were drooping low over the yellow- 
 green eyes, the sensual lips were parted like a cat's for 
 snarling, as Quantrill spoke: 
 
 "Kansas must be laid waste. Lawrence is the hot-bed 
 of Abolition. We can get more money and more re 
 venge there than anywhere else in the State." 
 
 " But the risk is too great," a guerrilla leader declared. 
 "Think of the distance, and the danger." 
 
 " I know the hazard of the enterprise," Captain Quan 
 trill exclaimed, " but if you never risk, you never have." 
 
 "The captain's right. Yes, he's right," came voices 
 from the darkness round about. "What's the chance? 
 Tell us how. We 're ready." 
 
 "I'll tell you what's the chance," Quantrill replied. 
 "I've had a man in Lawrence for a week. He's found 
 out all we want to know. I've just got back from 
 Eudora myself and I know all the roads up there. So 
 between us we have the situation clear." 
 
 "Where's your man? Let him speak," came the call. 
 
 Out of the shadows a guerrilla stepped into the dim 
 light where his chieftain sat. A huge fellow he was, 
 with a face insensible to pity. His soft round hat, with 
 rolled-up brim, was adorned with a plume strangely like 
 human hair, and he carried six revolvers.
 
 416 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "I've been in Lawrence a week as a speculator 
 stoppin' at the Eldridge House. The town's just ripe 
 for pickin'. There's no garrison there except about a 
 dozen men north of the river. The guns are all locked 
 in the armory. They make fun of any suggestion of a 
 raid, they're so damned sure there's no danger. They 
 could n't put up any defence. The streets are broad and 
 easy for horsemen to charge in. It 's time to strike right 
 now." 
 
 "You have heard the report." Quantrill's deep voice 
 broke the silence following the scout's words. " But let 
 me say further, the march is long: soldiers behind us, 
 soldiers before us ; we must advance and retreat through 
 soldiers. Come, speak out, now ! " 
 
 And the captains spoke: 
 
 " Lawrence or hell, provided we kill every male thing." 
 
 "Lawrence is Jim Lane's home, yes." 
 
 "It's a Boston colony, yes." 
 
 "Lawrence and the torch." 
 
 " Count me in whenever there 's killing." 
 
 So for revenge and money, in the gloom of the night, 
 the council laid its scheme. Over against a peaceful, 
 helpless city was written the word " Doom." Long lists 
 of names were set in order; every man and boy in 
 Lawrence save a chosen few was marked for slaugh 
 ter; all personal grudges were to be fully glutted; all 
 pillage sanctioned ; and not a building was to escape the 
 torch. One reservation only the chivalrous, sensual 
 chieftain demanded : women and children must be spared 
 all indignity. And Quantrill's demands meant obedi 
 ence. He would shoot his best friend as coolly as his 
 worst enemy, if, indeed, any man could claim to be his 
 best friend that was what the yellow-green tiger eyes 
 under the heavy eyelid curtains meant. And this was
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 417 
 
 the monster who in the August of 1863 was to lead in 
 a terrific assault upon a defenceless town. 
 
 Why must Kansas be laid waste? The real cause, 
 amid a volume of excuses offered, lay in the hatred of 
 the Pro-Slavery spirit toward the staunch, invincible 
 young city of Lawrence, and in the depraved, ferocious 
 spirit of William Clarke Quantrill. For five years, before 
 he was outlawed in 1862, he had scourged the State. 
 Here he had led a life of crime, and when he was 
 driven from its confines, he carried with him a bitterness 
 only such a nature as his could compass. Across the 
 border he found his place by natural selection with the 
 Pro-Slavery ruffians, and he combined their cause with 
 his own. He hated Kansas as a murderer hates the spot 
 where his deed of infamy is laid, and he was lured back 
 to it by the same mental law. He knew Kansas ought 
 to destroy him. Hence he would strike first. The time 
 to act was now; the place, Lawrence. 
 
 In the dim light of the night, for the thing was hatched 
 in the dark of the moon, a horseman was riding across 
 the Missouri countryside toward the guerrilla camp. 
 The horse might have belonged to a border man; the 
 code of these men allowed them letters of marque for 
 good horses always ; but the rider was not of the border 
 type. He rode as easily as they, but his was a military 
 figure, and even in the shadowy starlight there was 
 something that marked him for a gentleman, not a guer 
 rilla. If the light had been stronger, one could have 
 read in the still handsome face the lines of cruelty that 
 his hidden crimes and selfish greed and trickery had put 
 there. He was seeking the camp of Quantrill on a 
 friendly errand. Yet he was the father of a son who 
 had helped to drive Pickett back at Gettysburg a month
 
 418 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 before, and of a son just beginning his camp life In 
 Lawrence, and of a sweet-faced daughter independently 
 earning her living Boniface Penwin, product of a slave- 
 ridden land, a gentleman's love of culture and a gam 
 bler's passion. Behind him a swift-footed figure pressed 
 silently and cautiously, never varying his half -running, 
 half-walking gait. 
 
 It was midnight when Penwin reached the guerrilla 
 camp. He seemed familiar with the place, for he tied 
 his horse and walked about the outer circle of sleeping 
 men with the ease of one who knew his ground. In 
 the blackness beyond the camp, lighted yet by little 
 smudgy flares, the footman waited. Still and dark, as 
 the blackness about him, he watched Colonel Penwin 
 moving silently along until he seemed to find the man he 
 wanted. The man was a light sleeper, for Penwin roused 
 him easily, and the colonel's presence brought no sur 
 prise to him. The two, without a word, sought the 
 shadows where the watcher stood. He dropped to the 
 ground and lay like a dead man, or a sleeping guerrilla. 
 Their conference was brief and the prostrate listener 
 heard it all. 
 
 "You'll do that for me, Bill?" the horseman asked. 
 "Don't play the coward this time like you did at Dar- 
 row's and Nethercote's and in Coleman's Dell." 
 
 "But we are not to molest the ladies," Bill urged. 
 "You know Captain Quantrill. And the chances are 
 one in a thousand I 'd have the good luck to steal it, even 
 if I could get away from the band." 
 
 "Bill, you know Boniface Penwin. It's a thousand 
 dollars, good Confederate money, if you do it," the 
 colonel urged. 
 
 "I '11 do it," Bill agreed. 
 
 Then the horseman mounted and retraced his way
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 419 
 
 toward Kansas City, and behind him trotted the swift 
 footman. 
 
 It was Pelathe, the Shawnee Indian; and the man 
 who had been waiting for Penwin was the coward, Bill, 
 of the old border strife days in the Vinland Valley. 
 
 The hot August day slipped into a still evening. The 
 first quarter of the moon was due two nights hence, and 
 by midnight there was no light save the glitter of far 
 away pitiless stars. 
 
 Where the old Leavenworth and Fort Scott military 
 road crosses the State line into Missouri a body of four 
 hundred fifty men swept into Kansas; and in the 
 dusk of the evening pushed rapidly toward the north 
 west. They were splendidly mounted, and splendidly 
 they rode. In all the history of warfare perhaps no 
 cavalry organization ever surpassed the horsemanship 
 of this company riding now across the beautiful uplands 
 and fertile valleys toward the doomed city of Lawrence. 
 
 At the head of the band was their leader, Quantrill, 
 mounted on a great brown horse. Slender, erect, firm- 
 seated as a Centaur, in the deepening twilight he made 
 a striking figure outlined against the western horizon. 
 He wore cavalry boots, gray pantaloons, and a brown 
 woolen guerrilla over-shirt, beautifully embroidered by 
 a woman's hands, for, monster that he was, Quantrill 
 had many loves. He wore a soft black hat with a 
 gold cord about it, and he was heavily armed. The 
 merciful night shadows concealed the exultation and 
 dogged determination of the face, the compressed lips, 
 and the fiendish blood lust of the tiger eyes, veiled by 
 low-hanging lids. 
 
 Behind him surged his force of skilled horsemen. Rid 
 ing recklessly in rough but certain order, they seemed
 
 420 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 to challenge all the fates of chance and furies of evil to 
 thwart them in their pursuit of an inhuman purpose. 
 In this company were some misguided men, products of 
 war and disaster, but hardly comprehending the atroc 
 ity of this night's business. But the main body were 
 seasoned guerrillas, the outgrowth of the old border 
 ruffian days. Their leaders were Younger and the 
 James boys of later bandit infamy; with George Todd, 
 whose thirst for blood is beyond the comprehension of 
 these safe and happy days; and Bill Anderson, who 
 burned men alive, and adorned his horse's head stall with 
 women's scalps. 
 
 So, in the darkness of the peaceful midnight land, 
 sweet with the summer dew, this band, nearly half a 
 thousand strong, writhed its huge lengths along the 
 prairie trails, swift, merciless, and deadly ; while the town 
 for which its vencm was gathered slept in serene secur 
 ity, unconscious of the peril surging toward it. Where 
 the roadways were puzzling, lone farmhouses were 
 roused and a guide demanded, at the revolver's muzzle, 
 to show the way to Lawrence. If the guide resembled 
 any one known to have once lived in Missouri, or if he 
 could not furnish the information wanted, or if he was 
 no longer needed, he was left dead by the way. Ten 
 guides within eight miles fell for no other crime than 
 this. Evening deepened into night. Midnight came, 
 and then the dank chill of the prairie lands in the dead 
 darkness of the hours that follow; and still the fiends 
 rode madly on. 
 
 The first light was in the eastern sky. The song birds 
 had begun their little trills of joy, and then the crow 
 ing of the cocks announced the breaking of a new day. 
 On a height to the southeast of Lawrence the pack 
 halted. Before them lay the beautiful Wakarusa. To
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 421 
 
 the south was the Vinland Valley. Across the Kaw, 
 gleaming in the first crimson glamour of morning, were 
 the fertile Delaware holdings, and away to the west 
 Night's curtains, misty and gray in the paling gloom, 
 rolled back to reveal a land, 
 
 Fair as a garden of the Lord. 
 
 Mount Oread wore now the crown of a sweet summer 
 dawn; and down by the riverside, in purple shadows 
 still, Lawrence was in its beauty sleep, dreaming not of 
 aught it had to fear. 
 
 On the brow of the height the dust-grimed men, wild- 
 eyed from their sleepless night of hard riding, twined 
 themselves behind their leader in deadly pause like a 
 serpent about to strike. 
 
 Quantrill sat like a figure carved in stone, looking 
 out over the landscape and down at the city he had 
 doomed to death because it held the record of his atro 
 cious crimes against him. Now he had come in his 
 power, and he gloated over his opportunity; grasping 
 closer the long death-roll, that he might let none escape, 
 he rode along the silent ranks of waiting men. At the 
 last minute many of these hesitated. There were some 
 humane hearts under the guerrilla shirts. They could 
 rob and murder after the highway fashion of lawless 
 ness, and in the license of Civil War banditti. But in 
 the gracious beauty of this August dawn, the soft, cool 
 airs of the summer morning fanning their feverish 
 cheeks ; the beauty of dew-diamond grasses, and rainbow 
 tinted waves of prairie verdure, green and orange and 
 yellow, shimmering in the golden glory of the new-born 
 day ; the soft coo of birds astir, the faint homey sounds 
 of awakening farmyards; and the utter absence of per 
 sonal cause for revenge ; with danger to each man loom-
 
 422 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 ing near not a few were ready to hold back their 
 hands from such foul cruelty against the helpless and 
 innocent. 
 
 Along the silent ranks their leader passed. 
 
 " You can do as you please," he cried, daring. " I 
 am going into Lawrence." 
 
 He wheeled his horse about and driving his spurs 
 deep into its sides, he leaped onward toward the goal of 
 his maniac mission. The men caught the poison of his 
 spirit. In a column of fours they uncoiled, and with 
 yells and curses they lunged forward in huge ripples, 
 and reckless as demons, mad as fiends, they hurled 
 themselves upon the defenceless town just waking from 
 its peaceful slumber. 
 
 Strange is the story of this morning's doing. And 
 tragically strange that no warning should have fore 
 told, nor cry of alarm have reached hither, nor means 
 of rescue availed. Military authorities on the Missouri 
 line had ignored the reports of possible raids being 
 planned, and Fate played a cruel hand that night in hold 
 ing back the heroic ones who risked their lives to carry 
 the alarm to Lawrence. 
 
 At midnight a courier had brought the news to the 
 Union headquarters in Kansas City that a great band of 
 guerrillas in all their war paint was whirling into Kan 
 sas; and the headquarters knew that Doom was riding 
 westward with that invading gang. But Lawrence was 
 two score miles away. No telegraph, no telephone, 
 no warning rocket shot heavenward, no wireless ripple 
 of rescuing breath could avail. South of the Kaw 
 River was half a regiment of murderers no man might 
 pass and live. North of the river was the rough, un 
 familiar region traversed by no broad highways, and with 
 only a few beaten trails.
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 423 
 
 Rose up then Pelathe, the Shawnee, the Eagle, for 
 that is the meaning of Pelathe. He had come in with 
 the courier who brought the news. 
 
 " I will try, if you will let me go!* 
 
 And they let him go. 
 
 Into the blackness of the midnight he plunged to pawn 
 his life, if need be, and save a city. He was mounted on 
 a sorrel mare, a Kentucky thoroughbred of the finest 
 equine instinct and power. He had the Red man's dress 
 and the white man's firearms, the spirit of a hero, and 
 the Christian's unselfish loyalty. Moreover, he knew 
 with an Indian's acuteness the streams and woods and 
 prairies that lay north of the Kaw, and he chose his way 
 wisely. 
 
 It was one by the clock when Pelathe trotted out ot 
 old Quindaro, where his journey proper began, and 
 threaded his way westward. He rode leisurely at first 
 for wisdom's sake. By two o'clock his speed was terrific, 
 and that magnificent strength only a thoroughbred 
 possesses, told out in the long even strokes of flying 
 hoofs. Three o'clock, and still the sorrel mare kept up 
 her gait undiminished, but now her breath came short 
 and hard. 
 
 Pelathe halted, and with the big red handkerchief he 
 wore about his neck he rubbed her limbs and body, and 
 led her slowly now. A little water only he let her drink, 
 and he washed the foam from her bridle bits. 
 
 Then he was off again, and again the best blood of 
 Kentucky was telling in the splendid power of that 
 beautiful creature he bestrode. The landscape reeled by, 
 and wood, and stream, and misty prairie were like ocean 
 tides sweeping eastward as he swung away and away to 
 the west. And now, far before him in the first dim lift-
 
 424 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 ing of the summer night toward dawning, he could see 
 the black woodland in the southwest and he knew that 
 Lawrence was just beyond it. An hour more. Oh, God, 
 for one more hour to do the work of Him who taught 
 men how to find a life by losing it I 
 
 But the noble steed was failing now and her breathing, 
 the marvelous second wind that had carried him so far, 
 was almost spent. 
 
 Pelathe was fighting with Death for a doomed town. 
 Human life meant more than the life of even this faithful 
 animal, and in the struggle, the lesser must be sacrificed. 
 He set his face with an Indian's hardness and gripping 
 his hunting knife, he cut long gashes in the mare's 
 shoulders and rubbed gunpowder into them. She sprang 
 forward with fury, carrying her rider yet a few miles fur 
 ther. Then with a cry, once heard, never to be forgotten, 
 she fell beneath him, dead. Down the land went a streak 
 of gray. It was Pelathe, whose feet, shod with the swift 
 ness of a swift-footed race, was leaping with the long 
 lope of a panther down the trail, hoping still to win to 
 victory. 
 
 Day-dawn now, and the Delaware lands, where cabins 
 nestled in the woodsy bottoms, lay before him. Lifting 
 up his voice, he gave forth the long, quavering war-cry 
 of a fighting people, that he might call forth these in 
 trepid Delawares to his aid. Then he seized a pony from 
 the nearest corral and, like a Plains Indian in full flight 
 for battle, he swirled along the last lap of his strange 
 ride. And the ferry to the Kaw was gained. Beyond it, 
 Lawrence lay. 
 
 The August sun was pouring out its glory of morning 
 light. The day was rich with the warmth and grandeur 
 of mid-summer. But across the Kaw, the tide of battle 
 already engulfed the doomed city, and Pelathe had lost.
 
 THE DAWN OF DOOM 425 
 
 When the voice of the world shouts its chorus, 
 
 Its paeans for those who have won, 
 When the trumpet is sounding triumphant, 
 
 And high to the breeze and the sun 
 
 Glad banners are waving, hand clapping, and hurrying feet 
 Thronging after the laurel-crowned victors, 
 
 then remember we with reverence and praise the men 
 who failed. No less noble than Sheridan and Paul Re 
 vere, who rode and won, is the name of Pelathe, who 
 rode and lost. Some day the people of the West will list 
 his name in their scroll of uncrowned heroes, for that he 
 gave his best effort to save what Fate had foredoomed 
 should perish.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 
 
 In the homes of their rearing, 
 
 Yet warm with their lives, 
 Ye wait the dead only, 
 
 Poor children and wives! 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 ON the night of the " Peace-party " long ago, the little 
 Merriford girls and the little Speer boys had raced 
 about the rooms together. Annie and Nellie Merriford 
 were quite young grown-ups now. At least Joe and Tar- 
 ley thought so. And the Speer boys were half-way be 
 tween boyhood and manhood. Mark Darrow came back 
 to Kansas in August for a brief two days; one at the 
 cedar-sheltered home overlooking the Vinland Valley, 
 the Darrarat still to the Darrow boys. The other day he 
 spent in Lawrence. The morning after that he must 
 report to General Ewing's headquarters at Kansas City. 
 Wars do not curb the spirit of youth. While Quan- 
 trill's band was swinging across the countryside in the 
 Summer evening with its lists of boys' names set in black 
 for its own black purposes, Tarley and Joe and the Merri 
 ford girls, with Lucy and Mark, and the Speers, and 
 other young people, spent a gay evening together. The 
 Kaw was swollen with heavy rains up to the valley and 
 the ferry was out of commission. The young folks went 
 down to the river and watched the muddy tides pour 
 along. Then they came back to Rosalind St. Felix's home 
 
 426
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 427 
 
 on the edge of town and spent the last happy hours of 
 a care-free day. Since the sacking of Lawrence in '56, 
 the St. Felix home had been a cottage in the lower land 
 well to the southeast. Rosalind and Lucy, with Aunt 
 Crystal for a servant, called themselves the Southern 
 Confederacy, but there was no more popular Union home 
 in Lawrence than the St. Felix home. 
 
 On the way from the ferry, Mark and Lucy loitered 
 behind the others. 
 
 "Lucy," Mark said. "Do you always want to live 
 down in the lowland and be a part of the Southern 
 Confederacy? " 
 
 " Oh, it 's nice down there," Lucy replied, " and it is all 
 the home I have." 
 
 Lucy was very "sweet and lazy" when she chose to 
 be, and although she had only her own hands to support 
 herself, she never lost her sunny spirit, and seldom took 
 trouble in for a companion. 
 
 "But, Lucy, you can't always take care of yourself 
 alone." Mark drew her arm closer through his own. 
 
 "Then I'll hunt somebody else to take care of too. 
 Would you like any looking after then?" Lucy drawled 
 in a soft Southern voice. 
 
 They were standing by a thick clump of bushes grow 
 ing about an old well by the wayside. 
 
 " Girlie, I 'm going away in the morning. Father and 
 mother are at Merriford's for the night. Patty Wren 
 and Beth are at Rosalind's. Coke will be up here early 
 to take them home. Everybody that's worth anything, 
 except Ellie, is here to tell me good-bye. Sweetheart, let 
 me take away your promise to leave the 'Confederacy* 
 and join the ' Union ' when the war is over." 
 
 He dropped her arm and took both of her hands as 
 they stood by the bushes at the old well.
 
 428 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " Mark, I always thought you 'd come like a hero and 
 rescue me from peril and we would remember it for the 
 fierceness of things," Lucy said, sweetly. " I Ve always 
 liked you only this is so very unromantic. You ought 
 to be saving my life, or something like that ; with such a 
 thrill I'd never forget the minute. When you can do 
 that, Mark, then maybe I '11 say ' yes * to anything." 
 
 " Oh, well, Lucy, let 's turn the tables. Just play that 
 you save me instead," Mark urged. " Poke me down in 
 this old well and stand guard over me to ward off my 
 foes. That would make you remember the time all right. 
 Shall I jump in?" 
 
 "Whenever I do that, you'll know I care a whole lot 
 more for you than I ever could for anybody else," and 
 Lucy refused to consider the matter further. 
 
 Coke Wren rode into Lawrence late that night. Patty 
 wanted to go home in the cool of the morning and Coke 
 knew when that time came for Patty. The St. Felix 
 household was early astir. Aunt Crystal was getting 
 breakfast and the girls were chattering in their room. 
 
 "That's a pretty chain, Beth," Lucy exclaimed, as 
 Beth was finishing her dressing. " Let me try it on." 
 
 Lucy had heard the early history of that quaint trinket 
 from Mark, and it meant more to her since what had 
 passed between Mark and herself. 
 
 Beth had unclasped the dainty thing and put it in her 
 hand, when a fierce shouting, a volley of curses, and the 
 roar of cavalry hoofs filled the air. Lucy, impulsive as 
 ever, dropped the chain on the dresser, and the girls 
 rushed to the gate, forgetful of everything else in this 
 sudden outburst of noise. Beth could not blame Lucy 
 for her heedlessness, and in the counting up of lost treas 
 ures in the days that followed nobody ever knew how 
 much sorrow the careless flinging down of that gold
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 429 
 
 chain brought to the girl who had worn it as a sacred 
 pledge. 
 
 Across the open country f) om the southeast came a 
 swarm of dark-faced men, bearing down upon them. The 
 girls were terror-stricken and could not move. Beth was 
 conscious of the cry, "Dr. St. Felix's house. Leave it 
 alone," and of the men passing like a hurricane. 
 
 Gazing motionless as a bird in the fascination of a 
 snake, she noted one of the riders suddenly rein up at the 
 gate, and she recognized Bill, the Coward, whose face 
 she had seen in the ravine on the winter morning during 
 the Wakarusa War. Beth had never forgotten that man's 
 face. There was a look of exultation on it as of one who 
 had come unexpectedly upon a coveted opportunity. He 
 stared at Beth, and at the house, and wheeling his horse, 
 he rode half round it. As he turned back he said not un 
 pleasantly : 
 
 " Ladies, you won't be molested. No woman will be 
 harmed. If you have any friends you want to pass that 
 word to, run quick and do it. But no man will escape," 
 he added, savagely. 
 
 Then he galloped on and soon he was smeared into the 
 dust and blackness of the hurrying pack. If Quantrill 
 had heard this warning given on the beginning of this 
 morning's awful work, he would have shot the one who 
 gave it without a word. But Bill, the Coward, could not 
 be true to any cause very long. 
 
 The cavalcade of four hundred fifty guerrillas, with 
 their brilliantly dyed over-shirts, their rakishly slouched 
 hats, their long matted hair flying in the wind, their 
 bridle reins in their teeth or flung across the saddle bow, 
 their deadly revolvers cocked, their horses at full gallop, 
 swirled along like a tornado of human hate and fell upon 
 the city in its destroying power.
 
 430 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 The boys' camp, where twenty-one young patriots 
 slept, lay in the track of the cyclone. They wore the sol 
 dier's uniform, but as yet they were unarmed. Above 
 their tents the flag floated lazily on the morning breeze. 
 The guerrillas struck this camp first and rode it down, 
 trampling the half -wakened, beardless boys to their death 
 or shooting them without quarter. In the terrible panic 
 amid the shower of curses and storm of bullets and thun 
 dering crash of horses' feet, only five escaped. Tarley 
 and Joe lay at the middle of the camp and were up with 
 first shouts. The flag floated just above them, and in 
 the avalanche of slaughter hurling down upon them 
 Tarley caught the beautiful banner and with Joe, ran for 
 his life. 
 
 The two leaped toward a dwelling nearby. Joe was 
 a step ahead and he sprang through an open kitchen win 
 dow. As he turned to drag Tarley in also, he saw the 
 boy with whom he had played and worked through eight 
 of his boyhood years, pleading for his life with face 
 upturned to a brute on horseback. But "no quarter" 
 was the cry that day. 
 
 Joe saw Tarley wrap the Stars and Stripes about his 
 shoulders as if to ward off his enemy, then his face grew 
 white and that was all. 
 
 Joe ran from the house as a guerrilla came crashing into 
 it. In the street the man who killed Tarley had tied 
 the Star-spangled Banner to his horse's tail and was 
 dashing away with the flag trailing in the dust behind 
 him. 
 
 "I'd rather be Tarley than that man if I should live 
 till Eternity grew old," Joe thought, and then he ran 
 with the speed of despair toward the shelter of the bushes 
 by the Kaw River. 
 
 Tarley lay where the man one Skaggs by name
 
 Shooting them without quarter
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 431 
 
 had left him. In his fiercely clinched fist was a bit of 
 blue with a white star torn from the old flag, as in his 
 last moment it was wrested from him. On his boyish 
 face, however, the smile was not of war, but of eternal 
 peace. They pinned that star on his bosom the next day. 
 And Hiram Darrow, gazing down upon him, said: 
 
 "So Winthrop Merriford's boy perished.*' 
 
 While the boys' camp was being destroyed, Quantrill 
 and his lieutenant rode headlong up Massachusetts 
 Avenue, firing one to the left and the other to the right, 
 until they reached the Kaw River. Cutting the cable of 
 the ferry, they severed the possibility of aid coming in 
 from the north side, and the town was wholly at their 
 mercy. 
 
 It was waking now, but the meaning of the uproar had 
 scarcely dawned on the startled citizens when the shout, 
 "On to the hotel," filled the air. Before the Eldridge 
 House the pack gathered. It was a splendid hostelry, 
 built of brick, four stories high, well equipped and strong 
 as a fort. The only thing in Lawrence that Quantrill's 
 men feared that day was the Eldridge House. Any show 
 of resistance here would have checked the tide of attack, 
 for the outlaw and the guerrilla is by occupation a cow 
 ard, and his trade is plied only by cowardly methods. 
 Men in honorable warfare win by force, and strategy, and 
 courageous daring. The border raider must always watch 
 for the ambush and the bullet by which alone he himself 
 can win, and he falls before the fearless foe. 
 
 But the Eldridge House had no means, nor controlling 
 mind, to meet such a fierce and sudden enemy. It offered 
 no resistance and amid looting and riot it was given to 
 the flames. 
 
 Before it Quantrill, his beardless, sun-browned face 
 aglow with the sense of his power, his eyes yellow-green
 
 432 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 with viper poison, rising in his stirrups and waving his 
 hand, dismissed his bands with the supreme order: 
 
 "Kill! kill! burn! burn! and you will make no mis 
 take." 
 
 And they burst upon the town dazed and defenceless 
 under their smoking guns and swinging firebrands. 
 
 Meanwhile, back at the St. Felix home, Patty Wren 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 "No man will escape. They're goin' to kill all the 
 men. I '11 bet they don't get Cokey. Let 's run like mad 
 dogs, girls, and warn everybody we can." 
 
 "I'll find Mark," Lucy cried, and with the word she 
 was off. 
 
 "Run, Patty, and tell Coke. I'll get to Merriford's 
 somehow. Rosalind, can you find Mr. Speer and the 
 boys?" Beth urged. 
 
 " Oh, the boys slept in the printing office last night. 
 They went there from here," Rosalind exclaimed. " I '11 
 try to reach them." 
 
 " But Tarley and Joe," Aunt Crystal wailed. 
 
 "Oh, they're only boys, Auntie. They won't harm 
 boys," Rosalind assured her. " You must stay on guard 
 here till we get back." 
 
 "Oh, Lord, guard me then," the old woman moaned. 
 "Are you all sure about my boys?" 
 
 But the girls were off, and Aunt Crystal ran into the 
 house and began to fasten the doors. As she fumbled at 
 the locks she suddenly felt a revolver against her ear and 
 a command to keep still. 
 
 " Oh, Lord," she shrieked, then collapsed, wordless 
 under the gun of the coward Bill. 
 
 " Get up and do as I say, and you won't be hurt," he 
 said. 
 
 The trembling woman rose to her feet.
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 433 
 
 " Go to the young ladies' room and find the gold chain 
 Miss Lamond wears. March ! " he commanded. 
 
 "Miss Beth done wearin' dat chain," the negress fal 
 tered out. 
 
 " She did n't have it on just now. You find it for me 
 or you '11 never leave this house alive." 
 
 Then to himself Bill added: "Never expected such 
 luck as this. It's better 'n cuttin* away from Quantrill 
 and hangin' around Lamond's house for days tryin* 
 to get that chain, an* slim chance ever gettin' to lay 
 my hands on it. Well, I 'm a good thousand dollars ahead 
 right now." 
 
 Aunt Crystal, believing her time had come, led the way 
 to the girls' room. There lay the chain on the dresser 
 where Lucy had dropped it. Bill, the Coward, caught it 
 quickly. 
 
 "Now, you ever say one word about this and you'll 
 get yours. Down on your knees and swear you '11 keep 
 your mouth shut." 
 
 Poor old Aunt Crystal, with a six-shooter in her face, 
 dropped to her knees and mumbled an oath to keep silent. 
 When she stood up the raider was gone. 
 
 " I ain't gwine to stay here and be killed and robbed," 
 she cried, and she rushed out of the back door and started 
 toward the Kaw River. 
 
 Lucy Penwin had sought the house where Mark was 
 a guest for the night. He had risen early and was slip 
 ping out of the side door that he might not disturb the 
 household, when he ran plump into Lucy. And at the 
 same moment the uproar from the boys' camp burst 
 upon him. 
 
 " Oh, Mark," Lucy cried excitedly, catching him about 
 the neck and clinging to him. "Come quick. Come 
 with me!"
 
 434 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Mark threw his arms about her, and kissing her up 
 turned face, exclaimed: 
 
 "Let's not come. Let's just stay. What's all this 
 awful noise, Lucy?" 
 
 But Lucy's white face and the roar of the fray's be 
 ginning checked him. 
 
 " It 's a band of raiders and they '11 kill every man they 
 see. They said so. Come with me," she implored, drag 
 ging at his arms. 
 
 "Let me go and fight, Lucy." Mark would not be 
 dragged. 
 
 " One against a thousand ! Listen to that." 
 
 The shrieks from the boys' camp and the charge upon 
 Massachusetts Avenue grew louder. 
 
 " Mark, you can save only yourself. That 's all." 
 
 " But Joe and Tarley," Mark cried. 
 
 "Oh, you cannot save them now. Look where their 
 camp was. It's all lost. Dear Mark, come with me." 
 Lucy's arms were about Mark's neck, and her tears and 
 entreaties were pitiful. 
 
 Mark had been with John Brown and faced the force 
 that destroyed Osawatomie. He had held his place in 
 the battle line at Corinth, and had scouted and routed 
 in the fierce vendetta struggle across Arkansas and clear 
 into Texas, and he was never a coward. It was not fear 
 for his own safety, but love for his boyhood sweetheart 
 that controlled him now as he hurried with Lucy to 
 ward a place of hiding. And not a moment too soon, for 
 as they ran across the track of the destroyers a volley of 
 bullets pursued them. They leaped behind the nearest 
 building, then fled towe.-d the river. The bushes about 
 the old abandoned well lay in their track. The uproar 
 was increasing, and beyond them a sentry was rushing 
 to cut off their way.
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 435 
 
 "Jump in here, Mark. I '11 stand guard. It's the only 
 way to save your life," Lucy implored. 
 
 Mark sprang through the bushes. The well was shal 
 low, but the rains had left a few feet of water in it. 
 
 "Give me a timber, Lucy," Mark called, as he hung 
 braced above the water. 
 
 Lucy wrenched at a piece of the tumbled-down frame 
 work, and the whole thing fell. She gave a shriek, but 
 Mark called back: 
 
 "All right, Lucy; I've got it now," and he dragged 
 down a portion of the frame above him. Not for nothing 
 had he climbed about his Darrarat in earlier years, for 
 he braced himself until he had forced a crosspiece be 
 tween the rough walls, and then he lodged himself 
 securely. 
 
 Overhead a tiny patch of summer sky shone clear and 
 blue, and oh, so pure and far away! Across its crystal 
 space the fallen timbers checkered the light. The dust 
 sifted down and the bushes dragged under by the fall of 
 the timbers darkened the opening and shut out the purer 
 air. Once Mark looked up to find Lucy's face watching 
 to see that he was safe. He smiled up at her as he 
 caught the vision, for her eyes had told him what her 
 lips had not yet confessed. 
 
 Then memory brought back to him the October after 
 noon of long ago when the children of the three settlers' 
 families had gone nutting together. And the picture of 
 the group beside the old Trail on the height above the 
 Vinland Valley was as vivid as on that day. Again 
 Mark saw the pretty girlish face of Lucy Penwin, and 
 Beth with her golden hair, Joe and Tarley joined by the 
 grapevine tie, and Craig and Elliot on either side of the 
 girl who was to be more and more in their thoughts in 
 the coming years, the ten years of trouble of which the
 
 436 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 stranger had warned them. Through dust and dirt and 
 fallen timbers and crushed weeds he had just seen in 
 Lucy's eyes the fulfillment of that day's unrealized hope. 
 Joe and Tarley might be lying under the trampling hoofs 
 of the guerrillas' horses, now joined still in death. And 
 Elliot and Craig and Beth? The ten years of trouble 
 were telling off as prophesied. Mark's senses seemed 
 dulled a little, for the air of the old well was foul. 
 Then the terror of the situation seized him, and he 
 fought against the invisible poison gas clutching his 
 throat with its choking grip. He could front the raiders' 
 bullets, but there was no weapon with which to meet 
 the death-power in the walled-in space that held him. 
 
 The cry of "Kill! kill! burn! burn!" rolled over his 
 head. Men ran or hid, and death pursued and spared not. 
 There was no quarter, no mercy, no truth to the promise 
 of a safeguard. Down almost to the brink of the old 
 well came Bill the Coward and half a dozen followers, 
 mad with the frenzy of the fray. As they neared the well 
 Lucy sprang in front of them. 
 
 " Hold on ! hold on ! " she shouted. 
 
 " We don't harm ladies," Bill repeated. 
 
 " But you '11 ride into that old well," she warned them, 
 and they reared and turned aside. " I 'm Colonel Boniface 
 Penwin's daughter. I wouldn't want a man killed in 
 that well." 
 
 She smiled sweetly up at Bill, who recognized her 
 now, for he had been much in the Penwin home. 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Penwin," and the horsemen were 
 away. 
 
 " It 's all right, Mark," the girl called softly. But only 
 a faint whistle answered her. 
 
 It seemed hours to Lucy before the tide of scourging
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 437 
 
 rolled back from the city and she dared to approach the 
 well. All the while she stayed faithfully near and guarded 
 the place as a loving woman guards her heart treasure. 
 The damp poison crept over Mark. The smothered 
 opening above let in only a faint sifting of living air. 
 And when at last Lucy dared to summon him he was 
 hardly conscious. She never could recall who helped 
 her to rescue him, so terrible was the strain of that 
 morning on her young life. But she remembered the 
 face of a Delaware Indian, and of a strong man's quick 
 action. It must have been White Turkey, for with 
 twenty other Delawares and Pelathe, the Shawnee, 
 White Turkey manned the first boat that crossed the 
 Kaw at last and pursued the guerrillas on their retreat 
 to Missouri. And then Mark lay on the brown August 
 grasses, under the shelter of the trees. His head was in 
 her lap and she recalled his words. 
 
 " You said you 'd care a whole lot more for me than 
 for anybody else if you ever got me out of this well." 
 
 All else was a blank to both of them, but from that 
 day Mark's brown hair was gray. 
 
 As Joe Darrow ran for his life, a bullet struck his 
 shoulder and he fell face downward in the dust. When 
 the ruffian who had fired the bullet leaped from his 
 horse to finish his work, a big black face was thrust 
 close to Joe's body, and a voice in his ear whispered: 
 
 "Play dead, Joey! For the love of God, play dead! 
 I '11 help ye." 
 
 Aunt Crystal rolled the limp body into her broad lap, 
 and Joey had no need to play dead. The dust and blood 
 was smeared over his unconscious face and he lay 
 prostrate. 
 
 Then fiercely, as all the tigress in her nature roused
 
 438 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 itself, she snarled out: "You done killed him once. 
 You kill him again, and I'll tell on you! I'll tell, ef 
 you kill me." 
 
 She had recognized Bill, who was such a useful emis 
 sary of all evil outrage on this black day. And the 
 coward in Bill made him quail before her whom he 
 could have silenced easily. 
 
 Aunt Crystal carried the wounded boy to the shelter 
 of the brush down beside the muddy Kaw, and guarded 
 him vengefully from every foe. He was not unconscious 
 long, but his wound was severe. The old woman was 
 bending lovingly above him when a sudden shout made 
 her leap to her feet as one ruffian cried to another. 
 
 "He's alive. Get him!" 
 
 The day seemed lost to the faithful old woman, but 
 desperation made her turn strategist. 
 
 " Lord A'mighty ! look yander, quick ! " she cried, 
 pointing across the river. 
 
 The guerrilla, on the alert for ambush, held his gun 
 and looked. Beyond the Kaw a great willow leaned 
 far over the water. Lying out on an overhanging limb 
 above the foaming floods, Pelathe the Shawnee was 
 coiled like a snake in the sun. He raised his gun and 
 took aim at the guerrilla. 
 
 "He's too far away," the raider said, carelessly, and 
 turned to fire at Joe. But he had undergauged the 
 Indian's range and marksmanship. The bullet sped true, 
 and one wounded raider was hauled out of town that 
 day, disqualified forever from guerrilla service. 
 
 For hours Aunt Crystal watched beside the wounded 
 boy. At the approach of horsemen she would compose 
 his form and weep beside him as he feigned death. And 
 so she saved him.
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 439 
 
 The roar of the flames increased as house after house 
 was set on fire ; and the roar of the raiders increased as 
 men fleeing from the flames were shot down. 
 
 John Speer's boys were sleeping in their father's print 
 ing office. One sleeps still where he lay that morning. 
 In the ashes of the burned building, not even a trace 
 of him could be found. For thirteen years his mother 
 lived on, hoping always for his return, and putting his 
 chair at the table for his coming. But he came not any 
 more, and his mother saw him not until she went to him. 
 
 Annie Merriford stood at an upper window, spell 
 bound with fear, watching the scene of carnage. The 
 Eldridge House was aflame and the tide was sweeping 
 toward her. Annie saw her childhood playmate, young 
 John Speer, rush from his father's office, as Skaggs, 
 with the flag still swinging to his horse's tail, dashed 
 around a street corner. The ruffian demanded money, 
 and the boy gave over his purse. Then, defenceless as 
 he stood, Skaggs shot him down, and left him near a 
 burning building. The girl heard his cry for aid as the 
 flames swept nearer to the helpless boy. Another guer 
 rilla dashed up, and when he had passed on, John was 
 no more, and Annie fell upon the floor, insensible. 
 
 Patty Wren had just reached the Merriford home when 
 a little old woman ran by. Her shoes were heavy, her 
 skirts were short and floppy, and her sunbonnet was 
 big and flappy. Down the street she rushed into the 
 back door of a cottage just as two guerrillas burst open 
 the front door. A frail old man, with his white-haired 
 wife and little grandson, cowered in terror before the 
 invaders. 
 
 " Don't kill him. He 's old and helpless," the trembling 
 wife pleaded with men who knew no mercy.
 
 440 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 " We '11 shoot him down. He 's got boys in the Union 
 army," they yelled as the old man stood up before 
 them. 
 
 " No, you won't," a queer, squeaky voice piped up, and 
 the little old woman with the floppy skirts and sun- 
 bonnet plunged to the front. "You get right out," she 
 shrieked. 
 
 For an old woman, her strength was wonderful. She 
 sent one ruffian headlong from the door, and caught the 
 other's arm so suddenly that he staggered back, and his 
 cocked revolver sent a harmless bullet through the floor. 
 
 "Here, babe," to the grandchild, "hand Aunt Tildy 
 that kettle of hot water, quick. We'll do some killin', 
 too." But the guerrilla had wrenched himself loose and 
 disappeared. 
 
 " I want to know ! " whined the old woman with the 
 floppy skirts, as she disappeared. 
 
 And in and out, where brands were hottest and bullets 
 thickest, and helpless humanity most needy, old Aunt 
 Tildy pushed her way, and few guessed that a little 
 Yankee was taking on this disguise to save the life he 
 was risking every minute for others. Nobody could 
 forecast Coke Wren's ingenuity and resource, save that 
 it would be turned toward humane effort always. 
 
 Amid all the bedlam of demons, the blood of the 
 Scotch Lamond pulsed fearlessly now as when on the 
 old headland of Ard Lamond the warring clan had bat 
 tled with its foes. Across the street from Merriford's 
 a baby's cries cut the air. The house was on fire and 
 the roof was beginning to blaze. Raiders, mad with 
 unchecked power, vengefully guarded the place. They 
 were burning out the owner hidden inside. The wails 
 came pitifully shrill, and no mother's form appeared.
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 441 
 
 " Mrs. D arrow, I must go," Beth cried, and she darted 
 into the street. 
 
 In an instant she was surrounded by plunging steeds 
 and desperate men. Beth was beautiful on her wedding 
 day with all a bride's dainty loveliness, but when Isabel 
 Darrow saw her in this terrible moment the woman 
 understood why her eldest born would wait during the 
 years with all of a Quaker's patience for what was of 
 such royal worth. 
 
 Daring and reckless for herself, true daughter of 
 David Lamond, Beth faced the men about her. In her 
 white dress, her fair face bloodless, her gray eyes flash 
 ing fire, her crown of golden hair gleaming in the morn-' 
 ing light, she seemed a goddess of power men dare not 
 insult. Catching the bridle rein of the nearest horse, 
 she jerked it backward and deftly cleared the space, and 
 the next and the next she flung aside, opening a path as 
 heedlessly as if the men were only bushes crowding a 
 narrow way. 
 
 Behind her at first, and then beside her, was Isabel 
 Darrow, and the two fought valiantly together. 
 
 It were a daring artist to-day who would paint that 
 scene and call it historical of the nineteenth century. 
 So like to the barbarism of the fierce old Vandal and 
 the terrible Hun was the sight that August morning 
 saw in the streets of Lawrence. Entrapped in the burn 
 ing house was the father. Beside the cradle where a 
 baby wailed pitifully was an unconscious mother. Inside 
 was death by fire; outside, death by bullets. 
 
 Before the blazing building was a maniac crew of 
 horsemen with their madly rearing steeds, their mur 
 derous weapons, their vengeful threats and curses. And 
 in their midst, carving out a way with only a woman's
 
 442 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 slender strength, was the golden-haired Scotch lassie 
 and the sweet-faced Quaker woman. 
 
 In and out through the plunging pile of fury, th 
 daring courage of Elizabeth Lamond put a magnificent 
 touch of power; while the Madonna face of Isabel Dar- 
 row, with the dark rippling folds of hair about her white 
 brow, gave to the picture an immortal sublimity. 
 
 Onward they struggled, until one horseman only 
 blocked their way a great black steed reared upward 
 with forefeet in air, as if to trample them into the dust 
 of the street. It was David Lamond's horse stolen from 
 the St. Felix stable. And the rider of the horse knew no 
 longer any mercy for man or woman. 
 
 " Ho, Pluto ! Ho, Pluto ! " Beth cried. 
 
 For ten minutes the rider of the stolen Pluto had been 
 training him to strike down human beings; but for ten 
 years he had responded to Beth's call. The white horse 
 for peace lay buried in the ravine by the Hole in the 
 Rock; the red roan for bloodshed had gone back to the 
 Delaware people; but the black horse for power was 
 here. Dropping his head, he waited for Beth's gentle 
 stroke. 
 
 Looking defiantly at his rider, Beth cried, "You can 
 steal my horse, but you can't control him. Go, Pluto ! " 
 
 And Pluto shot off with a lunge, leaving the way to 
 the burning house clear for the rescuers' feet. 
 
 Inside the house, Beth lifted the terrified little one in 
 her arms and it clung to her and nestled its baby curls 
 against her white neck. 
 
 " Take my wife ! take my wife ! " the father pleaded. 
 
 Isabel lifted the semi-conscious woman, and with 
 Beth's help they half led and half dragged her outside. 
 And mother and child were saved. 
 
 The Merriford home was surrounded now. Cries of
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 443 
 
 " Burn the Boston man's house ! Burn out Merrif ord's ! " 
 filled the air. 
 
 "Take everybody in there. Don't spare men nor 
 women." It was Skaggs who said this. The tattered 
 flag of American Liberty was still dragging at his horse's 
 tail. "I dare you to come out, you cowards. I dare 
 one of you to show your heads," he yelled. 
 
 " I don't take no dare," Patty Wren cried, as she flew 
 to a window and flung it open. "What do you want? 
 Major Merriford ain't here, nor no other man. Do you 
 want to kill women, too? " 
 
 "We're goin' to burn this house. Get out if you 
 want to save yourselves," the leader shouted, as he 
 crowded Skaggs back. 
 
 Beth Lamond had taken the first news of the invaders' 
 purpose to the Merriford home an hour or more ago. 
 With the assurance of safety for the women, Hiram 
 Darrow had left at once to warn men to seek safety. 
 In all Lawrence, storm-beaten by violence, no other man 
 was more fearless nor more self-possessed than Hiram 
 Darrow. Not for nothing is the Inward Light. Not in 
 vain the teaching that leads men to listen to their own 
 souls in the Silence. In the day of danger this man, 
 guiltless of a brother's blood, faced the peril of the hour 
 with nerves of steel and spirit of command. 
 
 In and out, with marvelous judgment of how much 
 to risk and how much to guard, he passed the word that 
 brought safety to many a life. It seemed a miracle that 
 no bullet reached him on the way, for he went as if on 
 urgent but safe business. 
 
 In this hour he had seen the full force of the city's 
 menace. Men feigning death to escape a second bullet. 
 Men shot down with babies' arms about their necks. 
 Women dragged from shielding prostrate wounded
 
 444 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 fathers and husbands, that the guerrillas might kill and 
 kill. Men promised protection on surrender, only to fall 
 the moment they could be lined up in the open. All this 
 Darrow had seen, and with the lust for loot, and the 
 maddening force the whisky from the saloons had 
 given, he doubted if any promise to protect women 
 would long endure; so he hurried toward Merriford's 
 as swiftly as he dared. 
 
 As Skaggs was thrust aside by the leader, his horse 
 wheeled about just in time for its rider to catch sight 
 of the Quaker springing inside through a rear door. 
 
 The roar that arose was deafening, with cries for 
 " Darrow " and shouts and raging. 
 
 Darrow pushed his way to the front of the house. 
 
 "Come and get me if you want me," he called to 
 the mob. 
 
 A growl of curses and the cries, "Go and get him! 
 Take him out!" 
 
 But nobody followed his own advice. 
 
 " We '11 get you yet. We '11 kill you ! " they yelled. 
 
 " Come and do it," rang out the Quaker's challenge. 
 
 But they failed to come. With direst threats, the 
 horsemen rode away, and those on foot bided their 
 time. 
 
 Beth and Isabel at last gained the house with their 
 precious charges. The flames were devouring the home 
 behind them which the guerrillas still held under guard. 
 Inside a man's life was put to the choice. 
 
 "Can thee help him, Hiram?" Isabel asked, as she 
 entered the place of safety. 
 
 He ran into the street, and a posse of men on foot 
 hurled itself after him. Their leader was Bill, the 
 Coward. 
 
 " We 've got him now," they shouted.
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 445 
 
 A thrill of joy put strength into Hiram Darrow's arm. 
 For as they gathered about him, the imprisoned man 
 leaped at last from the burning building and fled away 
 to safety. The whizzing of bullets failed to reach him 
 as he ran; and in frenzy the mob rushed upon the 
 Quaker. 
 
 D arrow was a man of kindliest spirit, who never car 
 ried a weapon in his life. He was tall, but slender rather 
 than heavy, and of deliberate motion. Fighting in any 
 manner was degrading in his eyes, and bloodshed abhor 
 rent to him. By inheritance, and natural temperament, 
 and fifty years of education and habit, he was a man 
 of gentleness and peace. To-day he had been thrust 
 into the wildest carnage. He had witnessed the break 
 ing of every sacred law. His own sons were somewhere 
 in the midst of this devil's debauch, living or dead, God 
 knew. And now as he sought to save life, a dozen men 
 encircled him like hungry wolves. Above inheritance, and 
 temperament, and teaching, and habit, the Man in him 
 asserted itself, and he stood up to the conflict. Before him 
 was Bill the Coward, who knew his temper and habits, and 
 Bill was one of a dozen ruffians. Never did a dozen fighting 
 men receive a greater shock. With a swift, easy play of 
 muscle and marvelous endurance and recoil, the Quaker 
 met his task. As quickly as they came, he sent them on. 
 Two men fell into the flames and three were needed to 
 drag them out. Another and another fell backward, for 
 the Quaker could use either fist dextrously and inde 
 pendently of the other. A deft whirl, and another man 
 sprawled toward the glowing furnace. Bill, the Coward, 
 ran away, of course. There was no chance to use his 
 gun with safety to his fellows, and he could fight only 
 helpless people. While the men were rescuing the third 
 guerrilla from the flames, the last man fired his revolver
 
 446 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 with a yell, and the brave, stubborn Quaker, who had 
 matched himself against the dozen, fell. 
 
 In the presence of danger, the courage of women is 
 sublime. If ever "troops of beautiful, tall angels" 
 stood round about the brave in heart, they shielded 
 Isabel Darrow, the sweet-browed Quaker woman, in this 
 awful time. The streets were clogged with the wounded 
 and dead, and the flames were searing all alike. Into 
 all this chaos she sprang. The guerrilla's arm was 
 stretched for a second time he could not believe one 
 bullet strong enough for such a fighter when Isabel 
 caught his shoulder and wrenched aside the deadly 
 weapon. It was the same grip that had thrown the same 
 man headlong into the cedars on the night when this 
 man had come to the sheltered cabin on the hilltop above 
 the Vinland Valley, a quick, steel-like, unbreakable 
 clutch. Strange is the grasp of memory. The sharp, 
 blinding, nagging cedar needles seemed to tear his face 
 again in the moment, as he was flung aside and Isabel 
 Darrow, beautiful and strong in her utter fearless 
 ness, threw herself shield-like, between her husband and 
 death. 
 
 Lifting the almost lifeless form of Hiram Darrow, 
 she bore him toward the house. And as she struggled 
 with her burden, one man whom Darrow had felled to 
 the ground came now and helped to bear him into the 
 security of the Merriford home. 
 
 Then the raiders rushed away to find the terror- 
 stricken ones, to shoot down defenceless men and beard 
 less boys, to rob and to destroy. 
 
 Fiercer yet rolled the blood-red wave of murder, along 
 the ways of doom, and higher leaped the flames of 
 burning destruction, and wilder did the looting pack 
 mad now with stolen whisky break forth for plunder.
 
 "TIGER! TIGER!" 447 
 
 If History as written on our fair Continent needs ever 
 furnish to an artist's brush its most atrocious dream of 
 cruelty, its most inhuman carnage of a savage lust for 
 gore its truest prototype of Hell let it turn to the 
 story of that August day and picture Lawrence as she 
 lay before the dew had left the sheltered grasses. In the 
 stories of peril and power there is no fellow to it. 
 
 And all the while, about the city of death, Quantrill, 
 the chieftain of the accursed horde, passed from spot to 
 spot, directing all, increasing all, gloating in all the 
 worse than beastly business. In all the dress of the 
 guerrilla, and with exultation of a demon on his face, 
 he came to the top of Mount Oread. Looking out over 
 the valley whose exquisite beauty challenges the West 
 for a companion to it, and down upon the roaring hell 
 of agony and demolition his hands were controlling, his 
 heavy eyelids drooping over his yellow-green eyes, he 
 made a picture the like of which Mount Oread will see 
 not any more. 
 
 By nine o'clock the lookout placed above the city 
 sent down the word that horsemen were approaching 
 from the southeast, and the gang began to gather for 
 hasty flight. They had fresh horses, stolen from the 
 Lawrence stables, and their loot was hung upon their 
 own more jaded mounts. 
 
 Where the city park makes a beauty spot on Massa 
 chusetts Avenue to-day, they gathered and began their 
 exodus. A low hedge fence ran near. And along this 
 came Skaggs, the merciless slayer of helpless boys, the 
 last tatters of the Nation's emblem fluttering from his 
 horse's tail. Exulting in his blood gluttony, he rode to 
 escape from a city he had so inhumanly wronged. 
 
 Down by the hedge, a boy crouched the youngest 
 of the Speers, who had played also with other children
 
 448 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 at the peace-party long ago. In his hands he clutched 
 a loaded rifle and his brothers were lost. He aimed 
 at Skaggs; the ball struck the villain's shoulder-blade, 
 but he was only wounded. Another minute and another 
 boy would have been added to his record. But it was 
 time for his record to be closed and handed in. Behind 
 Skaggs loomed up White Turkey, the Delaware, grand 
 defender of women and children. 
 
 " Him kill everybody. Me kill him ! " 
 
 And when White Turkey shot, he shot to kill. 
 
 And so it was that on this August day, the supreme 
 sacrifice for loyalty to a belief in human liberty had been 
 required of a freedom-loving State in its defenceless 
 hour. The sacrificial altar was the indomitable city by 
 the Kaw. 
 
 The beastly crew rushed off as they had come; and 
 slaughter and burning made the milestones of their way, 
 as with a running battle they fought off all pursuers and 
 gained again the wooded coverts of a friendly State. 
 And Lawrence roused up amid her ruins and put out 
 her fires. The fierce August sun beat down on wounded 
 and dying. Pillage had taken sacred keepsake and valu 
 able treasure. Fire had laid waste home and office and 
 store. And of the uncoffined dead for that brief space 
 of guerrilla seizure, Lawrence mourned for a hundred 
 fifty men and boys, while of widows there were eighty, 
 and of children two hundred fifty left to dreary homes. 
 Dead forms lay in the desolate places, and the mourners 
 went about the streets.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 
 
 And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 
 O'er the land of the Free and the home of the Brave. 
 
 THE late May sunshine poured down with oppressive 
 heat. The air was heavy with humidity. In the 
 rolling, half-wooded country the sea breeze was beaten 
 back and diffused. For a month the Army of the 
 Potomac, with its stern old Thor, General Grant, at the 
 head, had been hammering along the Virginia country 
 side, buffeting its way toward Richmond. Between it 
 and the Confederate Capital were the strongly forti 
 fied forces gathered behind their intrenchments at Cold 
 Harbor. 
 
 For three summers the Vinland Valley boys had been 
 in the field. The operations of the Army of the Potomac 
 under General Grant did not tend to fatten men, and 
 Elliot and Craig were lean and wiry, but field-hardened 
 to great endurance. Craig had had one short furlough 
 and had come back from the Vinland Valley as from a 
 field of conquest. The boys marched side by side, and 
 a comradeship of necessity sprang up between them. 
 But the barrier first erected on the night after the Octo 
 ber nutting, so long ago, had strengthened with the 
 years. Elliot had not had leave of absence from the 
 army, and his joy through the months was in the few 
 letters from his mother and from Beth. 
 
 449
 
 450 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 In the same company with the Kansas boys were sev 
 eral Missouri men rough, unshaven, middle-aged fel 
 lows, who came East because they wanted to fight, and 
 they did not care to take chances with Western guer 
 rillas where they were well known. Three of these men 
 interested Elliot Darrow. From their enlistment they 
 took kindly to the young Quaker, and, crude as they 
 were, they had a spirit of comradeship that touched him 
 deeply. 
 
 War brought David Lamond into his kingdom. He 
 was courageous, capable, and kindly, and his men adored 
 him. He was Colonel Lamond now, wearing his badge 
 by sheer merit of service; while his sturdy physique 
 and stern Scotch nature, his unwavering loyalty and God 
 fearing spirit, all fitted him for leadership in a noble 
 warfare. 
 
 The afternoon was growing into evening. The Army 
 of the Potomac was encamped in the ravines and back 
 on the level spaces beyond the Chickahominy. To 
 morrow the assault on Cold Harbor was ordered, the 
 only order in all that tremendous military campaign that 
 General Grant ever regretted, and this was the eve of 
 battle. 
 
 Elliot Darrow was bathing his face and hands at a 
 little brook that went gurgling down to the Chicka 
 hominy. He was homesick, as most home-loving men 
 are, on the eve of a great fight, and war is never gentle 
 in any feature. 
 
 "Well, I want to know " 
 
 There was no mistaking the Yankee drawl. When 
 Elliot lifted his face and shook the water from his drip 
 ping dark waves of hair, Coke Wren was really before 
 him. 
 
 " Anything from Kansas would look good to me. How
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 451 
 
 do you do?" And he shook Coke's hand as if he could 
 never let it go. 
 
 "Yes, even me," Coke said. "Ninety-six and three- 
 quarter pound still; that's how I do. Ef I'd only git 
 that other quarter pound, they'd take me into the serv 
 ice. Been tryin' ever sence the Army broke out in '61. 
 Any kind of place would suit me, but I'm no grand- 
 daddy long-legs, an' can't make the infantry step, an' I 'm 
 so light a cavalry horse 'd think it had n't no mount on 
 it, and 'd run amuck." 
 
 "Maybe they'd let you take Cotton Mather," Elliot 
 suggested. 
 
 " Little guerrilla 's throwed me too darned many times 
 already. Don't want to be dumped right in front of the 
 enemy's guns," Coke declared. And then they talked of 
 many things. 
 
 " I 'm here to see Major Merriford. Got a permit from 
 them Powers. Colonel Lamond, he let me in here. 
 Where's the Massachusetts men campin'?" Coke asked. 
 
 "Over beyond the next ravine. Lots of Boston men 
 there," Elliot replied. 
 
 "Yes, I'm gittin' back East when I hear them talk. 
 I've got business matters an* messages for Winthrop, 
 the Major. Jupe's his body servant now, hain't he?" 
 
 Elliot nodded. 
 
 " Gosh be ! but I 'm plum proud of our Western men 
 stood up fer Kansas singly first when she was beset 
 by her enemies. Jest hung on 'tel they settled the 
 Kansas business ; but it was such a darned big business, 
 the whole country got more or less into the mix, all 
 'cause a line of Kansas men wouldn't never give down 
 ner know rightly when they was licked. Dead men out 
 West seems to me just gits up an' goes on fightin' same 
 as if nothin' had happened."
 
 452 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "John Brown, and his followers for example?" Elliot 
 suggested. "But how about the coward Quakers who 
 stay at home?" 
 
 "Now, you rooster, shut up your crowin'," Wren 
 exclaimed. "In the Quantrill raid, when I was just 
 pinkin' round helpin' a little an' dodgin* things by playin* 
 I was Aunt Tildy to the whole town, Hiram Darrow for 
 got he was a Quaker or anything else but a man. When 
 it come to savin' another man's life, didn't he stand up 
 in the street and face a dozen armed ruffians, an' him 
 with no weapons at all? Yes, an* fight 'em all, too, 'cept 
 one coward who couldn't get in his gun-play; an* one 
 coward who wouldn't meet him square after he'd fit 
 off ten of 'em, but went an' shot him in the back. Awful 
 close call for your father, but he's well now. He's too 
 good a man for the West to lose 'tel he 's ninety at least. 
 And as to war now, Hiram Darrow knows it's wrong 
 for Hiram Darrow to shed blood, same time he 's givin* 
 hisself heart an' soul to the makin' of his State educa 
 tionally, you may say. And I dunno but that's the real 
 makin's, after all. We need soldiers on occasions like 
 to-morrow, for instance, but God knows we need states 
 men all the time. Yes, an* stateswomen, too, like your 
 blessed mother." 
 
 The young man's eyes deepened with a glow that 
 mothers love. 
 
 "For lemme tell you, Elliot Darrow me what ain't 
 no soldier an' sailor, too lemme say, even in war, it's 
 human bein's that counts, an' not earthworks. One man 
 with a mind 'fore Lee's old breastworks there at Cold 
 Harbor is stronger 'n all their rock and mud fortressin' 
 an' intrenchmentin'." 
 
 "So he be not a coward, Coke?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, so's he hain't no coward," Wren agreed.
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 453 
 
 "Say," he continued, absently, "Rosalind St. Felix is 
 gone to be a army nurse down South in a hospital. Nice 
 little girl, an' a borned nurse, too. By the way, I 'most 
 forgot a message I had for you. Sorter sad message, 
 maybe, but you 're used to sad things." 
 
 Elliot waited. 
 
 "Beth Lamond, she said tell you the locket couldn't 
 never go back on the chain no more, 'cause the chain's 
 gone. Said you'd understand. Said she's wanted to 
 tell you for 'most a year, ever sence last summer some 
 time, but had n't no heart to do it. Said she 'd write an' 
 explain, an' she knowed it would be all right some time." 
 
 Coke deliberated in his delivery, for he knew he was 
 hurting something, and his was the healing, not the 
 hurting, gift." 
 
 " Say, who d' you suppose I see back by a stone fence 
 as I came down, clear 'way back to where the Rebs is 
 intrenched?" 
 
 " I don't know," Elliot answered, vacantly, as if he had 
 not heard the question. 
 
 The waters of the little brook gurgled on their way to 
 the Chickahominy Creek, and the Chickahominy slipped 
 down to the James River, and the James at low tide ran 
 into the sea. And brook, and creek, and river, and sea, 
 and sky, and air, and land, and life seemed all one thing 
 to Elliot Darrow, and that one thing a blank. 
 
 " You 'd never guess, so I '11 tell you. It was his Excel 
 lency, B. Penwin, erstwhile stealer of Delaware Injuns' 
 horses, an' crimes an' deeds unforgivable, what he ain't 
 caught up for yit. And speakin* of Injuns, Pelathe got 
 run down last winter. Put up a stiff fight to the last. 
 Never was a braver scout ner truer man, but the tricky 
 Rebel Cherokees killed him." 
 
 Still Elliot was silent.
 
 454 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 "I want to know who's them men marching yonder; 
 lock-steppin' it off fer fun? They hain't Unions, be 
 they?" 
 
 The young man looked in the direction Wren was 
 pointing. 
 
 " Oh, they are three of our Missourians not much 
 to look at, but true blue. Some of the noblest men I 
 know come out of that State. You can't measure men 
 by their beauty, Coke Wren. Nor women, either," he 
 added, bitterly. 
 
 If the little Yankee understood, he gave no sign. 
 
 "You don't know them, Elliot? They are the three 
 cusses that helt up Beth Lamond and my chicken in the 
 ravine beyont the Wakarusa in '55. I got their record 
 all to a finish when I was waitin' fer things in, an' out 
 side of, Lecompton jail. You remember, Craig saved the 
 women." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" Elliot remembered that. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you more. Them three high-born 
 patriots is the same you took in out of the cold that 
 same night afterwards. You was singin* to Joe that 
 night, he was down with pneumony, an* they'd come 
 to kill you. The power of your voice turned their mur- 
 derin* bullets away. Remember that Palmyry preacher 
 said you 'd win a battle with that voice of your 'n. What 
 was you singin', anyhow? " 
 
 Elliot was sitting with his arms clasped round his 
 knees, looking at the little brook. Now he turned to 
 Coke Wren and the same smile that had always won him 
 friends lighted his face. 
 
 " I remember it all now. They did act queer. I thought 
 they were drunk. And so they had come to kill, had 
 they?" 
 
 Then he leaned forward and, pushing the dark curls
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 455 
 
 from his brow, he sang softly but sweetly, with the same 
 bird-like clearness as of old: 
 
 There's a wideness in God's mercy 
 
 Like the wideness of the sea, 
 There's a kindness in His justice, 
 There is more than liberty. 
 
 "I wish I could win that easily to-morrow," he said, 
 and, springing up, he strode away toward the camp. For 
 the song had brought a momentary balm of peace to his 
 smitten spirit. 
 
 The night was very dark. Beyond the Confederate 
 sentinel line, a man in official Rebel uniform and a 
 rough-looking soldier in Union blue were holding coun 
 cil in the shelter of an earth entrenchment. The officer 
 was fair of face and finely built, and at first glance did 
 not differ from other finely built, fair-faced men who 
 commanded magnificent armies of able men of the South. 
 But the daylight would have shown a Judas face, where 
 treachery and evil had left their cunning imprint to be 
 read by him who has learned the art of reading Judas 
 faces. 
 
 "You will be safe enough, Bill," he of the uniform 
 explained. " I Ve fixed our sentinel here. Come to this 
 beat when you get back. Watch your chance for 
 the Union sentinel. Your clothes will carry you far. 
 Now go." 
 
 "Tell me, Colonel," Bill said, sullenly. "I've did an* 
 did for you. I Ve a notion, every feller has some time, 
 you know, that this is my last job for you or anybody. 
 Why d'ye spend money like water an' take such risks, 
 or make me take 'em, for such trifles? You paid me big 
 to get this here little gold chain out o' Lawrence to 
 you. Now, you offer me 'most any price to git it over 
 there."
 
 456 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 The officer looked at his servant. 
 
 "I hope not your last job," he said, kindly. "I have 
 several more for you myself yet. But you've been true 
 to me, Bill. There's just one thing I want to do. My 
 daughter will marry a Quaker. She is of the soft, pliant 
 kind that will smile and smile and in the end have her 
 own way. My baby boy, Tarleton, your accursed gang 
 took in that boys' camp at Lawrence. How could I 
 know he'd be there? I couldn't go back to him." 
 
 Maybe the face of Neil Merriford, as he had looked 
 at the Hole in the Rock, came back a moment to this 
 man in authority. If it did, God's vengeance must have 
 been heavy. 
 
 "Bill, I've just one act I must carry through. I've 
 pledged myself to see my son, all I have and I have n't 
 him, 'tis true to see him happy with a girl he loves. 
 In this way only can I atone for my sister's broken heart, 
 for a love interrupted. I'll pay you anything to help 
 me through. I'll give anything for one atonement. If 
 I can make my boy happy, won't that pay back at least a 
 part of things I took away things Lucy lost?" 
 
 The wages of sin! What a sum they exact from him 
 who breaks the law! And Bill, fearful for himself, and 
 despising the man no bigger than himself, went on his 
 errand, cast down with the presentiment that it was to 
 be his last job. 
 
 The night was still dark. The Union sentinel had 
 just turned on his beat, when a step, so soft and near 
 it could not be distinguished from his own footfall, took 
 his warm track. Another stride of the sentinel, and a 
 second footfall brought the invader in Union blue one 
 step inside the lines. Three, four, five strides of the 
 sentinel. Then the man inside leaped like a panther 
 toward the sleeping soldiers. The sentinel halted and
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 457 
 
 listened, but the sounds were only like the light feet of 
 a dog, and he turned and paced his beat like a good 
 soldier. 
 
 Elliot Darrow did not sleep well that night. How 
 could he? The night was hot and moist and oppressive, 
 and Elliot's head was hot and his pulse-beat oppressive, 
 and drops of moisture settled on his brow. Soldier life 
 had given even clearer vision to his wonderful eyes, and 
 he saw as well in the dark as many a man could see in 
 the cloudy daylight. He held himself from restlessness, 
 but he gazed up at the stars in the heavens of midnight 
 blue, and upon the sleeping comrades about him. How 
 many of them all would the morrow require in the build 
 ing of a Nation's strong, imperishable wall? If it should 
 be his turn now, somehow it didn't seem to matter 
 so much as it would have mattered twenty-four hours 
 before. Be it his to go bravely, anyhow. And then he 
 upbraided himself for his doubts. 
 
 "After all, Beth's message can be explained," he said 
 to himself. "She never doubted me in the days when 
 tongues were busy concerning my actions. I can wait 
 for her letter. Since Craig's furlough he has tried by a 
 hundred tricks to make me think that Beth has changed 
 her mind. I won't believe it." 
 
 As he lay motionless, thinking at last only of the 
 great void in his life the loss of Beth would create, he 
 was suddenly conscious of a presence near. He had 
 been awake so long and his sight was so keen, he saw 
 easily what went on about him. Craig lay near him, 
 sleeping soundly. But the sense of a waking presence 
 quickened. Then a figure slipped by him, a soldier in 
 blue clothes, who bent above Craig. The light fell 
 through the branches directly on Craig's face. And as 
 the soldier stooped to waken him, Elliot caught sight of
 
 458 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 the man's countenance. It was the face of Bill the 
 Coward, who had run from Nethercote's burning stable 
 the day he had rescued Mrs. Nethercote, and from him 
 self and Mark and White Turkey, before the Darrow 
 cabin, when the raiders had come to "kill the biggest 
 one." 
 
 " Come out here. I 've got a message from a Rebel 
 officer, and I want to take one to his headquarters from 
 your camp. I've fooled the sentinel and come through 
 the lines. Come quick," the soldier whispered. 
 
 Craig rose lightly as a cat, and the two slipped away. 
 
 Elliot rose also to follow or give the alarm. Then he 
 lay down again and watched. In a few moments the 
 man slid off into the darkness, and Craig again lay down 
 beside his wakeful comrade. 
 
 " I '11 not chase that Rebel spy," Elliot thought. " Let 
 'Bill' go. A bullet can find a coward in one place just 
 as easily as another. And for this man," he looked at 
 Craig, "I'll not report him to Colonel Lamond. I'm 
 not that kind of a coward." 
 
 In a few minutes the sentinel's cry of " Halt ! " reached 
 Elliot's ears, a sound of hurrying feet that did not halt, 
 and the quick report of a rifle. Then all was still, for 
 Bill had finished his last job. 
 
 Presently, two Missouri men rose from their places 
 and slid into the shadows in the direction of the rifle 
 shot. It was long before they returned. In the next 
 day's charge, Elliot did not note the new-made grave 
 over which he stumbled the nameless mound that cov 
 ered all that was earthly of the Coward, Bill. 
 
 Before the morning reveille, Elliot, wakeful still, 
 noticed a soiled tissue-paper package lying on Craig's 
 breast, as if it had slipped from his pocket as he slept. 
 Peeping from the torn wrappings were the links of the
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 459 
 
 quaintly wrought gold chain he had given in pledge to 
 Beth. He could have taken it easily without Craig's 
 knowing it, but it had no value to him now. The force 
 of the message Coke Wren had brought came down like 
 a blow upon him, and the sorrow of that hour was a 
 thing he never forgot. 
 
 "I'll not disgrace myself, nor do anything to grieve 
 her," he thought at last. "If she has changed, she has 
 changed. The Scotch lass's endurance was not like the 
 Quaker's patience. But what do I get, except revenge, 
 if I try to steal from him what I have already given 
 away?" 
 
 Elliot rose, and as he hurried away he met his Colonel, 
 David Lamond. 
 
 "Will he always think he has rescued his daughter 
 from a coward? It makes little difference now. But 
 duty does not fail. A man must do a man's part in the 
 battle of life," Elliot said, as he buckled on his armor 
 for the struggle of the new day. But the look of insolent 
 triumph which Craig's face had worn since his furlough 
 the summer before seemed almost unbearable now. 
 
 It was the memorable first day of June, 1864. The 
 Rebel Army, under General Lee, was entrenched with 
 tremendous strength behind its fortifications at Cold 
 Harbor, and the Army of the Potomac was drawn up in 
 battle line before it. Grant had hammered his path 
 through merciless slaughter and appalling disaster past 
 the Wilderness and Spottsylvania ; and now that stern 
 warrior, who counted ends, not means, had given the 
 word to move on Cold Harbor. 
 
 In all Grant's command, no man more nearly reflected 
 his spirit and military concepts than the stern Scotch 
 man, Colonel David Lamond, of Kansas. This morning 
 Lamond rode near to Elliot Darrow. The young color-
 
 460 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 bearer had never faltered in his duty. To-day Lamond 
 knew would be a terrible one. Would the boy from the 
 Vinland Valley meet the fire of a conflict fiercer than 
 any he had yet known? The Colonel did not believe he 
 could do it. 
 
 An orderly touched Elliot's shoulder. 
 
 " The Colonel wants to speak to you." 
 
 Elliot came forward and saluted Beth's father. 
 
 "Darrow," Lamond said, "to-day will be a hot one. 
 It's the business of the color-bearer to keep the flag 
 afloat." 
 
 " Yes, sir." Another salute from the color-bearer. But 
 each man knew the other's thoughts. 
 
 "I'll keep the flag flying for its own grand name 
 not mine. My country is my sweetheart now," Elliot 
 thought, as he remembered the silk handkerchief of 
 Lamond plaid that he had carried for three years, 
 wrapped around a sweet girl-face painted in a locket. 
 
 The charge began. A hurricane of forces hurling itself 
 against impregnable Rebel walls. A surge of Death 
 sweeping back over the breastworks, blotting out men 
 as a reaper cuts down standing grain. In the books of 
 American history the records tell that no other fifteen 
 minutes of time, in all our annals of bloody warfare, 
 ever saw such a return tide of slaughter as that which 
 poured out from the Rebel strongholds of Cold Har 
 bor on that June day, engulfing the Union battle line 
 before it. 
 
 In the face of such swift and stupendous peril, what 
 could men do but flee? The Union line wavered, filtered 
 off a little, a little more, then broke, then shattered into 
 fragments, and the rout began. 
 
 Over their earthworks came a seething flood of Con 
 federate forces, crashing in swirling torrents down upon
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 461 
 
 the madly rushing, disorganized lines. And the Rebel 
 yell, the warwhoop of disunion, rent the air with its 
 shrill and vengeful discord. Colonel Lamond saw his 
 command weaken, then scatter and flee, each man for 
 himself, running whithersoever he could for safety. And 
 the brave man's grief and shame and anger were un 
 bounded. Before him, Craig Penwin, tall and lithe, 
 sprang with a leopard's swiftness, followed by hundreds, 
 to whom he shouted: 
 
 " Run, boys, run for your lives ! " 
 
 Above the fleeing mass, the flag the Scotchman loved 
 was swinging as the color-bearer fled. Lamond saw all 
 this, and his soldier-heart was broken. 
 
 Louder roared the Rebel yell, and fiercer came the 
 onslaught, as the defensive forces drove headlong the 
 bands of boys in blue. 
 
 The engagement was in a woodland of thin timber, 
 with scanty underbrush. In a small clearing, the rout 
 swept by a tiny cabin, a rude log thing, till now the 
 habitation of some poor negro. At its corner? the logs 
 projected unevenly, making a rough angle. Elliot Dar- 
 row came with the tide into this open space and on 
 beside the cabin. The mind can act more quickly than 
 bullets can speed. In the instant, he remembered Mark's 
 Darrarat of the pioneer boyhood days in the Vinland 
 Valley, and how often the boys had raced to see who 
 could reach the top first. Quick as a flash, too, the dark, 
 thin face of the Palmyra preacher came up before him 
 where there was least need for preachers' faces, and 
 again he heard the prophecy: 
 
 "You'll win a battle yet with the power of your 
 voice." 
 
 It was all an instantaneous mental process. In the 
 chaos of forces, Colonel Lamond looked upon the retreat-
 
 462 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 ing soldiers with an agony no other grief could give. 
 Then he saw the color-bearer pause. Swift as a squirrel, 
 Elliot ran to the little cabin. With hand and foot, he 
 clawed his way, like a squirrel, up the rough angle of 
 the corner and stood upon the eaves. 
 
 The troops were rushing still in wild disorder, and 
 the Rebel yell still filled the air as the oncoming legions 
 of the enemy swarmed after them. Lamond saw Dar- 
 row springing up the oblique slope to the comb of the 
 clapboard roof. Was the coward expecting to hide there 
 from his foes? Oh, God be thanked, no, no! He was 
 standing upright, with his 'face toward the enemy. In 
 his right hand the red, white and blue of Old Glory was 
 gleaming in the June sunlight. Knotted to the staff 
 below the last stripe was the silken handkerchief of the 
 Lamond plaid, his Colonel's colors. A moment he stood 
 outlined against the wood and sky, a target for all guns. 
 Then, lifting high the flag he bore, and swinging it out 
 in all its graceful folds of beauty, he challenged his 
 retreating comrades. Above the Rebel yell, there came 
 a burst of song, clear, rich, powerful, the voice of a 
 hero unafraid: 
 
 We'll rally round the flag, boys, 
 
 We'll rally once again, 
 Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 
 
 We will rally from the hillsides, 
 We'll gather from the plains, 
 
 Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 
 
 At the first notes, swelling out so proud and strong 
 above the roar of battle, the fleeing soldiers turned. 
 Beyond them stood the daring Quaker, his bosom to the 
 foe, his white face illumined with power, his great dark 
 eyes glowing with loyalty, the dark masses of hair 
 thrown back from his brow, and aloft in his strong right
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SONG 463 
 
 hand the flag of a glorious Union; while rolling out in 
 melody over the thunder of conflict, the rattle of rifle 
 shot, and the fierce yells of battle, came the grand old 
 chorus : 
 
 The Union forever, hurrah, boys, hurrah, 
 Down with the traitors! Up with the stars! 
 
 While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, 
 Shouting the battle cry of Freedom. 
 
 Then David Lamond saw the Miracle of Song. 
 
 The soldiers were coming back, with three Missouri 
 men in the lead. The forces were converging, the com 
 panies were forming. The battle line of boys in blue, 
 with the log cabin in the center, was flung across the 
 track of the charging Rebels. Thicker and fiercer came 
 the return tide, and the Rebels wavered now. The 
 charge, the roar of musketry, the closing in of ranks, 
 then the forward swing, and the Rebels were on the 
 run. Over the fallen ones they fled, and on to their 
 entrenchments, gathering momentum with their speed, 
 they did not stop again till, safe behind their fortified 
 guns, they turned at bay. And the Union line failed 
 not, but held firm until the day's operations were ended. 
 The battle had been saved by the power of song. 
 
 In the midst of its wildest strife, where the tides beat 
 fiercest, David Lamond found Elliot with the colors 
 flying above him. 
 
 " My boy," the Colonel cried, " you are most fit, most 
 noble ! I 'm proud to have lived to see this day ! " 
 
 "A color-bearer's business is to keep the flag afloat," 
 the Quaker answered, with a soldierly salute. 
 
 In military annals the outcome of that day was marked 
 indecisive. The Rebel stronghold was not taken, and 
 the Union army did not lose ground. But the carnage 
 of that day was appalling. Its numbers brought regret
 
 464 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 even to Grant's stern heart. When the tattered record 
 was made up at roll call, listed among the missing were 
 the names of the two Vinland Valley boys one of 
 whom had run for his life that day; the other was he 
 whose courage in the crucial moment of direst peril had 
 turned the tide of battle back upon the pursuing foe, and 
 with the miracle of song had rebuilt the broken columns 
 into a wall of strength.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 
 
 And the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty 
 land, springs of water; in the habitation of dragons where each 
 lay, shall be grass with reeds and rushes. And the ransomed of 
 the Lord shall obtain joy and gladness and sorrow and sighing 
 shall flee away. 
 
 Isaiah. 
 
 ' '^7*011 cowardly deserter ! You 've got caught up with 
 
 X at last. We've knowed all these years you'd 
 never stick it out. Just got in love with a pretty girl, 
 and went to war to please her pa. You never had no 
 principles, you ornery cuss." 
 
 These words, with much swearing, Elliot Darrow 
 heard on the edge of a thicket-filled hollow, when the 
 engagement of the day was still raging fiercely. In 
 another minute he had passed the thicket and was climb 
 ing out of the ravine with his comrades on the run 
 toward the point commanded, when, amid the rattle of 
 musketry, he heard his own name called imploringly : 
 
 " Elliot Darrow, save me ! save me ! " 
 
 The color-bearer halted, for he knew the voice. Push 
 ing through the bushes, he came upon the three Mis- 
 sourians. Beside them lay the half-naked body of a 
 dead Rebel soldier, and crouching on the ground, cov 
 ered by the guns of the Missouri men, was Craig Penwin. 
 He was partially clad in Rebel gray garments he had 
 taken from the dead man, and his face was pallid. To 
 
 465
 
 466 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Elliot, who had seen many ashy faces that day, the 
 gray color on Craig's countenance meant nothing. The 
 thing about Craig that made him hardly recognizable to 
 his old-time acquaintance was the changed expression. 
 No longer the old insolent self-possession and pride 
 showed there; but shame and fear and abject pleading 
 were written on his countenance. 
 
 "What's all this, men?" Elliot asked. "What are 
 you trying to do, Craig?" 
 
 "He's tryin' to get on that poor devil's clothes, and 
 make a sneak to the other side, the white-livered deserter. 
 The Rebels is just across that next ravine," one of the 
 Missourians declared. 
 
 "Yes, we caught him just in time," another of the 
 three asserted ; " and we 're goin' to march him straight 
 to Colonel Lamond's headquarters, and give him up. 
 Maybe we're only gittin' even for a trick he played us 
 once, but he never was nothin', anyhow, half blue an' 
 half gray, like them Reb pants he 's got on with his blue 
 coat, the dirty coward!" 
 
 " He '11 be shot for a deserter the minute old Lamond 
 lays claws on him. The Colonel don't wait none. I 've 
 seen too many of 'em go not to know that." 
 
 And Craig and Elliot knew the same thing. 
 
 " Save me, Elliot. You know these men. Spare my 
 life," he implored, with hands outstretched toward the 
 young Quaker. 
 
 So White Turkey had lifted his hands in imitation of 
 this very moment. On the wintry night, in the shadows 
 of the old Trail, the Delaware had faced Craig Penwin 
 with the accusation of the Southerner's willingness to 
 do the Quaker boy harm. And White Turkey had cried 
 prophetically to the proud young man : 
 
 " You cannot harm him. Some day you lift up hands
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 467 
 
 to Darrow, so. You beg him spare your life, you dog. 
 I 've said truth." 
 
 For a little space Elliot hesitated. Love is overmaster 
 ing. And Elliot had lived all day on the joy of having 
 conquered the Scotchman's prejudice. But he remem 
 bered the gold chain in Craig's bosom, and he remem 
 bered a sweet face crowned with golden hair, the love-lit 
 gray eyes, and the Madonna expression when the baby 
 had cuddled in loving arms on the day of the double 
 funeral, long ago. For her dear sake, the man must live. 
 Elliot fought and won the hardest battle of his life a 
 bloodless battle of loving sacrifice. 
 
 " Boys, let him go. What do we gain by fighting one 
 another? Nobody knows who's turn will be next. Get 
 up, Craig, and for God's sake be a man." 
 
 "The young feller's right, boys. Our turn's coming 
 soon. Let's let him go this once," the third Missourian 
 urged. " Git up and walk a soldier's gait now, or you '11 
 git caught soon enough." 
 
 Craig rose in humility and confusion. Disgrace cuts 
 deep into a nature like his, and his degradation was 
 complete. 
 
 A shower of bullets fell about the group as a detach 
 ment of Rebel soldiers swept down the hollow. The 
 delay for Craig's sake had been a dangerous one for 
 Elliot Darrow. Rebel forces swung around them, and 
 the rifles poured out their deadly charges. 
 
 One man, the one who had agreed to Elliot's entreaty 
 for mercy, now fell under the fire of the enemy, and in 
 an instant more he, too, was before a Bar of Justice. But 
 as this was his last word on earth, might not the merci 
 ful hope to obtain mercy? 
 
 The second Missourian, nearer to the Union forces 
 than the others, sprang back with a bound and dived
 
 468 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 into the thicket. Soon he had scrambled out of reach 
 and was on a dead run for his company. In the race, he 
 turned to see if the others were with him. They were 
 beyond the ravine, Elliot, Craig, and one Missourian, 
 surrounded and captive to the Rebels. 
 
 "I done my best, Colonel," the man explained to 
 David Lamond, as soon as he could gain an audience that 
 night, " but the odds was dead on us. Darrow would n't 
 have been caught, but he stopped at Penwin's begging 
 for mercy. And I reckon he did save the cowardly 
 deserter's life. Darrow 's a grand feller. Never hope 
 to see nothin' better in heaven 'n that picture he made 
 up against the trees an* piece of blue sky when he swung 
 the flag overhead an* called us all to rally round it. Oh, 
 holy Moses ! but now, did n't he sing ! " 
 
 " But he 's caught now ; and he had stopped to save 
 young Penwin from what he deserved." David Lamond's 
 mind ran back over the life of his young Quaker neigh 
 bor, and the revelation of his own admiration, held back 
 so many years, broke upon him now with a crushing 
 force. He recalled Hiram Darrow's words on the day 
 the two were arrested for treason and had started off 
 to the Lecompton prison: "Craig Penwin will need 
 my family more than they will ever need him." The 
 words had become a prophecy. "I wouldn't have 
 thought it of Craig," he added sadly. 
 
 "Maybe not, Colonel, but I would, and I'll tell you 
 somethin' else maybe nobody 'd thought. In that squad 
 that got the three, Boniface Penwin was leadin' 'em. 
 And I'll tell you somethin' more than that. Me and 
 my two mates slipped out for mercy's sake and buried 
 our old Wakarusa partner, Bill. Excuse me, Colonel, 
 we 're human even if we did come out of Missouri." 
 
 The Colonel smiled. "Some of the best men our
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 469 
 
 country possesses are from Missouri. The State's all 
 right. Be proud of it. It's just the few who give it a 
 bad name. The same is true of Kansas. And a bad 
 name smells so far, it taints all who are near it. Go on." 
 
 "Well, we buried Bill, as I said," the man continued. 
 " But we got to him 'fore he died. And he told us his 
 errand. Made a clean breast of it to us. It was his last 
 show to do right. He said he 'd come to bring word 
 from the Colonel to Craig that if the battle got too hot 
 Craig was to run for it and git into their lines somehow 
 and they'd care for him, and afterward pretend he'd 
 been captured, and it wan't to make no difference in 
 his good name with you. Said for him to git on part 
 of some dead Reb's clothes, and each side'd think he 
 belonged to them. Colonel Boniface Penwin 's got only 
 one good failin*. That's his interest in Craig." 
 
 " He is the boy's father," Lamond said sadly. And the 
 Missourian went on: 
 
 "Craig was savin' himself at the last. That's the 
 way with a selfish man. The boy was darin' enough 
 back in Kansas, but war tries the last one of us clean 
 to the bone. An' if they's a mite of coward in us, it's 
 comin' out then. He just couldn't measure up to a 
 brave man's size. When it comes to marchin' and fightin* 
 steady, an' never flinchin' till the end comes, lots of 
 'em 's that way." 
 
 " No, he fell short. But Darrow did not fail. Heaven 
 keep him safe. I thought he was missing," the Colonel 
 murmured. 
 
 Meanwhile the three captive soldiers were given 
 unusual consideration for the remainder of that day. 
 When evening came, they were conducted into the pres 
 ence of Colonel Penwin and other officials, Craig still 
 wearing his gray pantaloons and blue coat.
 
 470 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 The Missourian was sent at once to join a squad of 
 prisoners who were on their way to a Southern prison. 
 
 " Lemme have a word with this feller, won't you?" 
 he begged of Penwin, and the Colonel, who still had a 
 gentleman's manners, allowed his request. 
 
 Out of earshot, but under guard, he spoke. 
 
 " Darrow, me and the boys buried that spy, Bill, that 
 come in after young Penwin last night. Say, d 'ye know 
 what he come for? " 
 
 " You told me to-day to plan for Craig to desert and 
 yet not seem to desert," Elliot answered. 
 
 "Yes, an* to give him a little gold chain he'd stole 
 out of the hands of a pretty girl in the Quantrill raid 
 last August. Said he was paid to git it by Colonel 
 Penwin, and luck favored him. She had it in her hands 
 ready to put on, I s'pose, and dropped it and run out to 
 see what their infernal hullabaloo was all about when 
 they went tearin' into Lawrence. And he swoops down 
 like a hawk later an' makes the old nigger woman git 
 it for him while the girl was off givin' warnin' to save 
 men. And he brings it clear here to sneak into Craig's 
 hands. Bill was to say the girl sent it herself as a 
 token of good-will ; kind of keepsake ; and when she was 
 free again for him to come back. Old Penwin planned 
 it all, but that Shawnee scout tracked him and heard it. 
 He told the girl a raider got it. Now, what the devil 
 could Craig do with a gold chain, d 'ye reckon? " 
 
 " Nothing with that one if he lived a thousand years," 
 and the smile on Elliot Harrow's face belied the notion 
 that any power could call him a prisoner any more. In 
 the breast pocket of his blue coat he carried the silk 
 handkerchief and the locket. He could find another 
 chain. 
 
 Craig was sent away under guard which Elliot knew
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 471 
 
 was a mere pretense, but he wondered much at the 
 mixed uniform which the guard carelessly allowed to 
 stay unchanged. 
 
 "Which way will he turn, blue or gray?" Elliot 
 wondered. But his own time came now. 
 
 Penwin sent all the other men from his tent and sat 
 alone with the young Quaker. After deliberation, he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Elliot Darrow, I have just one word for you." How 
 like to the Colonel Penwin of the Vinland Valley he 
 seemed. Aristocratic, arrogant, unconquerable; even 
 his voice brought echoes of the homeland. 
 
 " If you had escaped, I should have followed a differ 
 ent course. Now, I shall not. I have no fear of any 
 attempt any one of you might ever make against me. I 
 mean any one of you Kansas men, St. Felix, Merriford, 
 or yourself. Merriford will let matters alone. St. Felix 
 was reported missing at the Wilderness last month. I 
 heard later it was a false report, but no matter. He'll 
 never trouble me." 
 
 " He is a good man wherever he is," Elliot said. 
 
 Colonel Penwin frowned and continued tersely: 
 
 "I say this to you. I can give you your freedom, or 
 send you to Andersonville." 
 
 "Well?" Elliot's dark eyes were fixed on the Colonel, 
 and in them he saw again the accusing eyes of his cousin, 
 Neil Merriford. 
 
 " If you will promise me to renounce all claim to Eliza 
 beth Lamond and leave the way clear for my son to 
 press his suit with her, you can go to Grant's camp under 
 safe conduct, and fight or run as suits your fancy. Miss 
 Lamond's promise is given to you. I heard it upon the 
 bluff by the old Trail one April evening long ago. I was 
 passing at the time. That was mere child's fancy. Much
 
 472 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 as that beautiful woman loves my son, for they Ve been 
 engaged really since last year at the time of his furlough 
 there she feels bound by her old promise, unless you 
 will release her." 
 
 Colonel Penwin dropped his eyes that the Union sol 
 dier might not see the cunning look he could not hide. 
 
 "You are an honorable fellow. I have always 
 respected your integrity. My boy has now the gold chain 
 Elizabeth gave him last summer in pledge of love. You 
 will not keep her to her word. Promise me now that 
 you renounce your claim. Do you know what Ander- 
 sonville is? It is hell. You'll never come out of that 
 prison alive. Think of that beautiful woman, your 
 mother. Promise me." 
 
 There was command and threat and petition all min 
 gled in Boniface Penwin's tones, and his face was gray 
 with the intensity of his passion. The young soldier, 
 helpless in his hands, looked out on life and freedom on 
 the one hand, and on imprisonment and death on the 
 other. How long will a Quaker's patience endure? So 
 long as a Scotch lassie's strength fails not. Then he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Boniface Penwin, if you think you have it in your 
 power to save me from prison and yet, before you exer 
 cise your power, you demand me to give up my right to 
 the hand of a girl all my own," his eyes were flashing 
 proudly now, " let me tell you that the imprisonment 
 of a free man is better than the freedom of a coward. I 
 can suffer for my country. I will not give up anything 
 that is mine to keep to save myself from any prison 
 bond that you or the whole Confederacy may lay upon 
 me. You have my answer." 
 
 So Elliot Darrow was ticketed for Andersonville, but 
 the machinery of warfare moves slowly for the captives.
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 473 
 
 It was almost a month before the Quaker soldier reached 
 the stockade prison. 
 
 In the late June time the broad Kansas prairies are 
 all an emerald sea, the heaviest foliage is on the wood 
 land, the streams run fullest from the rains of the early 
 summer, and over everything sweeps the soft light breeze 
 bearing the wine of life from sunlit spaces void of all 
 miasma. It was in these crowning days of the year's 
 rich beauty that Elliot Darrow with many other com 
 rades was thrust into prison for the crime of loyalty 
 to the flag of his country. As the prisoner's train bore 
 him southward into the heart of the red clay lands and 
 pitch-pine forests of Southern Georgia, he began to 
 understand the slave's horror of being sold "down the 
 river." 
 
 Elliot's boyhood had been spent in the thriving pros 
 perity of a Quaker village in Indiana. His young man 
 hood was on the Kansas border, where each day in the 
 Vinland Valley was like a rent, a sword thrust, a shift 
 ing of all settled things, as Beth Lamond had said. His 
 college days were in the halls of Haverford, where ideals 
 of citizenship and high scholarly standards combine. 
 The post-graduate course of Civil War had trained him 
 with the development found in the curriculum of no 
 other school. Inwrought into his character was the influ 
 ence of his father's guidance and his mother's strength; 
 the love of a pure-hearted girl; the association of Dr. 
 St. Felix, and Winthrop Merriford and other Lawrence 
 men who measured large in mental and moral girth, 
 and wielded the affairs of a State according to their 
 own measure; and the stern loyalty of Colonel Lamond 
 demanding nothing short of his best self always. He 
 was in the vigor of his years and his physique, pliant 
 and wholesome from outdoor life, was tempered to great
 
 474 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 endurance. With clean hands and a pure heart, he came 
 to pay the prisoner's price for the preservation of a 
 Nation's life. 
 
 The Andersonville prison, comprising nearly thirty 
 acres, lay in a rectangular form on the side of a red 
 clay slope from which every stick of growing timber had 
 been removed. Around the entire rectangle was a stock 
 ade of hewn logs driven into the ground and project 
 ing upward eighteen feet, making an impassable wall 
 about the open space within. Outside of this barrier, 
 sentry boxes were placed at intervals of eighty feet. 
 Here the guard kept hourly vigil that no man might 
 climb the wall and escape alive. Sixteen feet inside 
 the enclosure was a low railing, hardly two feet high, 
 parallel with the entire wall surrounding it. A small 
 sluggish creek banked by low marshy borders ran 
 through the lower part of the prison from the west to 
 the southeast. A bridge had been constructed across 
 this creek some distance from where it entered the 
 stockade on the west. The prison had been designed 
 for the incarceration of ten thousand men. On the 
 June morning when Elliot Darrow was brought hither 
 and thrust inside its timbered enclosure, there were 
 thirty thousand men swarming up and down its sun- 
 boiled spaces. 
 
 The day was intensely hot, and the humid air was 
 almost unbearable. No breath of breeze gave any relief 
 to its oppressive weight. Elliot was worn and feverish 
 from travel in crowded prison cars, and he welcomed the 
 end of the journey. Inside the gates he stopped to 
 stretch his limbs and get his bearings, and seek the 
 nearest shelter for rest, and maybe a minute's seclusion. 
 God made the solitude for man's healing balm. 
 
 Elliot had thought of the stockade prison as a relief
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 475 
 
 from walled cells. Before him, in the untempered glare 
 of heat blaring down through heavy, steamy air, lay a 
 great sandy tract slivered across with hot red clay. Not 
 a line of shade was between the bare foul earth below 
 and the brazen furnace of scalding heat above. The 
 eyeballs ached at the sight of it all. What a Godsend 
 one single tree would have been. But in rain or frost 
 or sweltering downpour of sunlight, the prison was 
 an unroofed inferno, and those who had dared to strike 
 for Old Glory must take what came of Nature's cruelty. 
 
 Before the band of captives had neared the stockade, 
 the stench arising from within had been sickening. 
 Inside the walls the sinks for sanitary drainage along the 
 lower portion of the stream of water, swarming with 
 putrid growths, sent up their foul odors to thicken the 
 hot moist atmosphere. Here thirty thousand men were 
 struggling about in a space of less than thirty acres. 
 Small wonder if the dream of the sweet summer air of 
 the Kansas prairies, and the fancied breath of the cool 
 shadows of the old Trail in the woodsy winding ways 
 above the Vinland Valley should come with their tanta 
 lizing, forbidden comfort before the young prisoner; 
 and for the moment, the memory of the wild roses and 
 verbenas on the sides of Mount Oread should taunt him 
 with their perfume. 
 
 " Well, I want to know." 
 
 Was it an angel's voice in Elliot Darrow's ear? The 
 speaker did not look like a model for a Raphael or a 
 Correggio. A little thin-faced man, whose clothes, soiled 
 to the limit, hung on a shrunken frame. A man with 
 hair uncut and bearded, unshaven face of greasy tan, 
 and hands most grimy. It would take more than a 
 palm or harp to make an angel out of him. But the 
 eyes, little beady black eyes, and the voice these
 
 476 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 belonged to Coke Wren, or to an angel like to him. 
 
 "What do you want to know?" There was no sense 
 in Elliot's blank reply, and the two men stood clasped 
 in each other's arms. 
 
 "How did you persuade 'em to let you in?" Coke's 
 ruling passion held him still. " You was reported miss 
 ing after you called the retreat back at Cold Harbor. I 
 thought you was dead, but I wasn't expecting to meet 
 up with you in hell for some time yet. I Ve been here 
 some spell myseli. They say a body can get used to 
 most anything. I 'm makin' the effort of my life to git 
 used to this, but it's most too extravagant for my 
 imagination." 
 
 " It will take heaven a long while to get used to you, 
 Coke Wren, when you get there. You are too good 
 for it." 
 
 And the strong man leaned on the little one and wept 
 the tears the limit of endurance only can bring to 
 men's eyes. 
 
 "Oh, cry away, Elliot. It'll do you good. You git 
 it all done the first day you are here, 'n after that you 
 ain't bothered more." 
 
 They sat down together on the sun-baked clay, and 
 told each other of their fortunes. About them, unheeded 
 for the time, long-haired men, with bodies begrimed, 
 and ragged clothes be-vermined, starving, desperate men 
 reeled up and down or sat in stolid misery, or lay in 
 deathly illness. 
 
 "I got into the service the same night I seen you," 
 Coke explained, "and I seen one hour of fightin' with 
 my Massachusetts men, an' then you know my tend 
 ency to accidents. I got too darin', an' after doin' some 
 little personal damage to some of 'em, I got swept into 
 the dust pan with a lot more an' throwed in here. I
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 477 
 
 wanted to fight, but when I see what was comin' I just 
 gripped hard onto the Lord Almighty an' I says ' My 
 times is in Your hands. I wanted to work for You, an' 
 couldn't. Now it's Your turn, ef I'm worth anything 
 to You, You '11 make it plain by keepin' me in the holler 
 of Your hands an' let me be a sort o' comfort to the 
 downcast.' This ain't no place fer Addison's littery pro 
 ductions, ner Pope's ' Essay Onto Man,' but them 
 Psalms your mother read you, an' the everlastin' love 
 of the Man of Galilee, they's some reality in them 
 things when you're on the underside of hell an' the 
 whole Confederacy 's settin' on the lid of the bubblin' 
 caldron atop of you." 
 
 So Coke talked on, and Elliot, to whom he had come 
 as a miracle of blessing, gathered inspiration from his 
 spirit. Not always are the chosen ones the rich and 
 great and beautiful. In that prison-house of anguish 
 and suffering, Coke Wren was a daily blessing. 
 
 " Lemme show you the grounds," the Yankee said 
 after awhile, and together they crept about the dreary 
 spaces. 
 
 "What's that little railing for?" Elliot asked as they 
 approached the side near the little timber railing sixteen 
 feet from the wall, and he made a stride toward it. With 
 a shriek, Coke caught him just in time to drag him back 
 ward, and a roar of voices rose round about him. At 
 the same time a rifle ball sent up a cloud of red dust 
 from the clay where he had stood. 
 
 "That's the dead line. Learn it quick," Coke 
 ejaculated. 
 
 "The what?" queried Elliot. 
 
 "The dead line, boy. It goes clear round the prison 
 inside. Whoever crosses that by accident, or ignorance, 
 or wilful, is to be shot down instantaneous and no chance
 
 478 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 to escape. Them sentry boxes is there to hold murderers." 
 
 He pointed to the line of cages, each holding its sen 
 tinel ready. 
 
 "The worst place is the water. Keep close to the 
 bridge an' starve a half a day 'fore you go up to the 
 west side. More men's lost their lives tryin' to git 
 water 'n any other way. Lemme show you." 
 
 They worked their way through the crowded grounds 
 until they reached the bridge across the creek. Below 
 the bridge the marshy creek banks were trampled into 
 a slime of mud by the feet of the thousands who came 
 here to bathe, or to cast their refuse into the sinks. In 
 the small space between the bridge and the dead line on 
 the West the stream was reserved for drinking and cook 
 ing uses. Here all day and all night the place was 
 crowded with men struggling for their turn to get the 
 water. Warm, muddy, and poisonous as it was, the men 
 were dying of thirst and here they found their only sup 
 ply. If in the madness to secure it a man was pushed 
 across the fatal dead line, he never came back. 
 
 This, then, was the prison life from which Boniface 
 Penwin would keep the Quaker soldier if he would 
 renounce his claim to the hand of Elizabeth Lamond. 
 Into this life Elliot Darrow had voted himself, and he 
 set his teeth and took it up as bravely as he could. 
 
 When human beings turn to jungle beasts and prey on 
 others of their kind, then man turns meekly to Him 
 who like as a father pitieth His children. 
 
 " Let it be mine to forget myself a little by trying 
 to help somebody else." The longing cry of the young 
 soldier reached far above the stench and sin and sickness 
 and sorrow of that vile prison pen. 
 
 As July crept by, he earned the name of Doctor Dar 
 row. True, it was little he could do, for the nothingness
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 479 
 
 of resource and supplies was the great source of misery 
 there. But his knowledge of anatomy and physiology 
 and medicine gave him a little hold toward helpfulness, 
 and his only solace was the wan smile of some dying 
 man or sick comrade whom he could by his judgment 
 or his kind word relieve a little. 
 
 The heat increased with the passing of each blazing 
 July day. The waters diminished and grew more foul. 
 Sickness in every form, smallpox, scurvy, fever, and all 
 bowel ills in deadliest degree were in that camp of 
 Union captives. 
 
 The starving ration of raw corn meal, without salt, 
 cooked by each man for himself, or the thin pea-soup, 
 was the only food for men to live upon. There was no 
 soap, no change of clothing, no comb nor razor, no medi 
 cine. Vermin crawled over the ground in swarms, flies 
 and maggots abounded, and the contact of disease 
 polluted all the place. 
 
 And still the July sun knew no mercy for these for 
 saken ones. The death-rate crawled up to two hundred 
 eighty every twenty-four hours. And all the time the 
 cry for " Water ! Water ! " went up to the glaring heavens, 
 and still the polluted stream with its thick coating of 
 scum, hot and foul, poisoned men famishing with thirst. 
 
 With these awful forces of destruction daily wearing 
 out the captives, came the devil and his temptations. 
 Throughout the camp, reaching to its every corner, a 
 word was sent, the message from the North. It 
 declared that these men of Andersonville, so starved and 
 sick and useless now, were repudiated by the Union 
 powers, and the great-hearted President at Washington. 
 It said there would be no trading of fat, sleek Rebel 
 prisoners able to fight again for men unfit for service if 
 they were free. The North needed men, not cadavers,
 
 480 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 and hope of exchange must be abandoned. How could 
 the captives doubt this? No line of a letter, or news 
 paper, no voice from the outside world could reach 
 them. Thirty thousand men, with less than two feet of 
 wood between themselves and freedom, were held dying, 
 famishing for food and water, and ignorant all the while 
 of what was going on in the land. Truly, the mental 
 starvation told not less than the physical hunger. 
 
 And the devil came in another dress, for his wardrobe 
 is both large and varied. 
 
 " Look at them notices of ' modified allegiance, ' " Coke 
 Wren drawled, feebly. He could not stand now from 
 weakness. "Tell me what they say." 
 
 Elliot read the temptation written up f or all the captive 
 Union men to meet. 
 
 To every man who would promise to lay down arms 
 and fight no more for the Star-spangled Banner, freedom 
 and safe conduct to his home. 
 
 He need not be loyal to the South. He need not lift 
 a finger in its defence. All that was asked was that the 
 oath be taken to add no more fighting strength to the 
 Union cause. 
 
 Poor starved and dying wretches, shut up from the 
 world, forgotten by the Powers you serve! The gates 
 are waiting to be flung wide open and freedom and safety 
 and home are just beyond you. Only say the word; 
 lift up your thin right hands to heaven and swear no 
 more to defend Old Glory, and all these are yours. 
 
 And did they lift up thin right hands and forswear 
 the flag they loved? Did they? From among the fifty 
 thousand men imprisoned here in the time of Anderson- 
 ville's power, twenty-six, just twenty-six, took oath and 
 freedom. The remainder of the fifty thousand, though 
 they died by the thousands, or lived on in misery, swore
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 481 
 
 not. But loyal still they held their right as men to 
 fight and die like men for the banner of their country. 
 
 And how can man die better 
 
 Than facing fearful odds 
 For the ashes of his fathers, 
 
 And the temples of his Gods? 
 
 The burning July day was drawing to a close, the day 
 of fiercest heat and intensest suffering that the prison 
 camp had known. All day long the cry for "Water! 
 Water!" had rent the air. Many that day gave up the 
 struggle and found the fountains of living water beside 
 the tree that bear twelve manner of fruit whose leaves 
 are for the healing of the nation. But thousands were 
 less fortunate, and the hours of the long, blistering 
 afternoon dragged by. Another day like this, men could 
 not endure. Surely, the cross laid on them would break 
 them now. And the sunset flamed out in angry fire, and 
 the green stinking stream shrunk under the blazing 
 fury. 
 
 A word went whispering up and down the ranks of 
 pallid men. Wild-eyed, unkempt, tattered and filthy fel 
 lows they were, but Union men still, and true to their 
 colors. 
 
 There will be a prayer meeting at six o'clock. A 
 prayer meeting! Yes, men give up prayer the last of all 
 renunciations. Prayer meetings there had been many, 
 but tonight the word: 
 
 " We must pray for water. * Whatsoever ye shall ask 
 in my name, that will I give.' In His name ask for 
 water." 
 
 The leading man who took that word about was the 
 tall, dark-faced preacher who had held the spirits of the 
 Palmyra people up to the call of a great sacrifice. True 
 to his teachings, he had fought and suffered for the
 
 482 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 Nation and its people. In this prison pen he was a com 
 forter to the stricken ones, and he oftenest, maybe, 
 closed the dying eyes. 
 
 The word went up and down. " Let us pray for 
 water." 
 
 And all the while the poison stuff slid slimily down 
 the bottom of the creek bed. 
 
 Six o'clock, and over the acres of men, a picture of woe 
 our Nation will never have to see again, over the sick, 
 and those who tried to minister to them, fell the spirit 
 of prayer. All over the wide foul camp groups of men 
 stood with bowed heads, while other men prayed in 
 devoted companies. And the prayer was for God's mer 
 ciful gift of water, a wail of human need to Him whose 
 are the waters of the earth. 
 
 Night fell and the humid heat knew no surcease. No 
 ripple of cool evening breeze stirred the dead calm of 
 that fetid place. Low in the west a silent black bank 
 of cloud was rising. It swept up slowly, majestically, 
 sublimely. It was shot through with lurid shafts of 
 lightning. Then the first faint roll of thunder, like the 
 roll of cannon, fell upon the ear. And then the thunder 
 began to boom. The play of lightning grew fiercer and 
 louder rolled the heaven's cannonade, until a crashing 
 of tremendous bursts of sound, a constant blinding blaze 
 of light, a screaming wind, and all the powers of the 
 heavens went mad in the wild storm of that July night. 
 
 Under its terrific beating, the unsheltered men lay 
 prone. All forces had power to buffet them. And God 
 seemed far away, or reaching down to earth only in his 
 wrathful chariot of storm fury. 
 
 Elliot Darrow lay beside Coke Wren. Beyond him 
 was the same Missouri man who long ago had sought 
 his life.
 
 FROM MARAH TO HOREB 483 
 
 " We '11 get up early, Coke," Elliot said, " and get you 
 up to the creek so you can have the best drink." 
 
 "That we will," the Missourian declared. 
 
 " I ain't worth it, boys. Let the big men drink first," 
 Coke urged. "A Yankee is pretty much of a salt fish, 
 anyhow." 
 
 The gray dawn came at last. The storm had cooled 
 the air. Out in the world the pine trees gleamed with 
 raindrops in the first light of morning. Clearer grew 
 the day and sweeter the air for a brief time, while the 
 dead odors lay flat to earth. Down to the creek the men 
 came crowding with drawn faces, longing for water, 
 even for that slimy liquid. The stream was swollen by 
 the midnight storm, and all the filth it held was swim 
 ming on the surface. As the men were gathering nearer 
 Elliot, Coke, the Missourian, and the Palmyra preacher 
 made their way toward the creek. 
 
 And behold the day of God's miracles come back to 
 earth again! 
 
 Not far from the creek on the side of the slope an 
 effort had been made to dig a well and the effort had 
 failed. This morning out of the place a stream of sweet, 
 pure, clear water was gushing joyously, as if it knew the 
 life-giving power and gladness it would bring. No pause, 
 no stay, no diminishing in its volume, it poured without 
 money and without price for the parched fever-smitten 
 captives. 
 
 Elliot D arrow gave a shout. 
 
 " Water ! water ! Come get water ! " 
 
 The next man caught up the cry, and the next, and 
 the next. And soon from length to length of that 
 great prison pen the shout arose, a mighty voice of 
 surprise and exultation. 
 
 "Water! water! God has sent us water."
 
 484 A WALL OF MEN 
 
 Then down in that desolate Georgian prison camp 
 there came a sight the like of which no other land may 
 ever know. Beside the gushing crystal waters, free gift 
 of God to loyal men, stood Elliot Darrow, his tall form 
 in the dawning light outlined against the western stock 
 ade, the glow of the morning on his thin, gaunt face and 
 great dark eyes, his long hair in a mat of curls tangled 
 about his brow. But the smile that lighted his counte 
 nance was as joyous as of yore in the little Darrarat 
 beside the old Trail. Lifting up his voice, he sang 
 as he had never sung before. And up from all the camp 
 came the voice of thousands of men who sang with him 
 in one grand hymn of gratitude. 
 
 Praise God from whom all blessings flow. 
 Praise Him, all creatures here below. 
 Praise Him above, ye Heavenly host, 
 Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. 
 
 And the day of God's miracles failed not to the sons of 
 men, even to the closing hours of the Civil War in 
 America.
 
 The prophet Ezekiel has written that, fronting to eastward, 
 
 stands 
 A house, from under whose threshold the waters pour, healing 
 
 all lands. 
 The fishermen of Engedi spread their nets and rejoice, day by 
 
 day, 
 The trees on its banks never wither, the deserts with blossoms 
 
 are gay, 
 And so may we write of this Kansas, a house fronting still to 
 
 the sun; 
 So long as its sons and its daughters shall do as their fathers 
 
 have done, 
 While the Kaw runs to the Missouri, the Missouri runs on to 
 
 the sea, 
 The throb of the blossom-starred prairies, the pulse of the world 
 
 shall be. 
 And the limit no man shall measure for the end is Eternity. 
 
 WHEN CRAIG PENWIN was sent under safeguard 
 from his father's tent, his anger burst forth, and 
 upon his father's head he heaped his wrath. He believed 
 his guards would lead him wherever he chose. He be 
 lieved, too, that Elliot and one Missourian were safely 
 out of his way, and that one Missourian was dead. Fate 
 had let the third man escape and take back the tale of his 
 desertion to Colonel Lamond. Craig knew precisely 
 what that meant. 
 
 Now there was no way open before him. To stay in 
 the Rebel camp meant nothing, for his father had fool- 
 
 485
 
 486 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 ishly joined the squad sent out to capture Elliot, and 
 as for himself the whole force had caught him deserting. 
 Everything had failed. Craig did not look within to 
 see how he himself, with high instincts and a clear 
 understanding of a man's duty, had come so near to a 
 life's success only to fail through his own selfishness. 
 So he cursed his fate, and roundly he cursed his father 
 for this interference. No pulse-beat of pity had the son 
 for his father whose one love he was, and to whom, for 
 his happiness, no sacrifice seemed too great. Selfishness 
 held supreme, and in the dimness of the June twilight 
 he avowed his hatred of Boniface Penwin. 
 
 A hundred yards from his father's tent a bullet whis 
 tled through the air, striking Craig in the side as he 
 passed. 
 
 "Jack Bobbs, you idiot, what are you trying to do?" 
 It was the Atlanta gambler, Roxbury, who cried out as 
 the bullet flew. 
 
 " Oh, pickin' off a Union dog that was gittin' too smart, 
 or a Rebel deserter tryin' to get into the Union lines in 
 his blue coat and gray breeches. He was cussin' Colonel 
 Penwin out of his clothin' over somethin'," Bobbs re 
 plied. 
 
 "Since when did you begin to defend Colonel Pen- 
 win? You didn't git the man you was after yet, but 
 you did git his boy. Come on. Come on, we got to 
 wait awhile for that now." 
 
 "I don't know why we've got to. I won't hear no 
 Union devil cussin' a Rebel officer an* not shoot him. 
 Was that Penwin's boy? Well, he deserved shootin' for 
 cussin' his daddy," Bobbs replied, and the two disap 
 peared. 
 
 Craig fell heavily to the ground, insensible. The pity 
 he had denied his father was at last his own undoing.
 
 LOCKET AND CHAIN 487 
 
 When he opened his eyes the next day, he was in the 
 hospital at Richmond and Rosalind St. Felix was bend 
 ing over him. 
 
 Nothing was ever quite so becoming to Rosalind as 
 a nurse's dress. The fine young Southern surgeon who 
 stood near her came forward at her signal. Craig 
 moved in time to see the look that passed between 
 them. 
 
 " Rosalind, you here ? " he asked, feebly. 
 
 " Yes, Craig." Her eyes were full of a happy light, and 
 Craig understood. 
 
 "How is it?" he asked the kind-faced surgeon who 
 bent over him. 
 
 "Release is near, my boy. Have you any message?" 
 
 Craig shook his head. 
 
 "Where is Elliot, Craig?" Rosalind asked. 
 
 The look of insolent pride came again. It had become 
 the mastering habit. 
 
 "In Andersonville, I hope," he said, and closed his 
 eyes. 
 
 The next day his nurse found only one keepsake, a 
 gold chain which she recognized, and she pondered much 
 on how he could have gotten it. True, Beth had never 
 spoken of her loss, and in the fright of that awful raid 
 Rosalind forgot the incident of Lucy and Beth and the 
 pretty trinket. 
 
 "What shall I do with this?" she asked the young 
 surgeon. It was very dear to a Kansas girl. I can't 
 understand why she should have given it to Craig 
 Penwin." 
 
 "Then send it back to the Kansas girl," the surgeon 
 suggested. " She ought to have the final word about it. 
 And between ourselves, Rossie, I have no use for Colonel 
 Boniface Penwin. Nor have his superior officers, I
 
 488 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 believe. He's not their kind of a man, it seems to me. 
 I understand this young fellow would n't have been shot 
 if the guards had allowed him to change his clothes. But 
 they kept him half blue and half gray out of hatred for 
 his father." 
 
 When the September sun was swinging far to the 
 south and Fall was sending the early yellow leaves dead 
 ripe to the earth, the gates of the prison pen at Ander- 
 sonville opened to admit a small, dark man, dressed in 
 the uniform of a Confederate officer. 
 
 "This way, St. Felix," a guard said. "The Kansas 
 men are on the west side generally. They like the 
 West." 
 
 Coke Wren and Elliot Darrow sat together in the 
 three square yards of earth they called their home, and 
 Dr. St. Felix walked across the prison toward them. 
 
 "I want to know." It was a very feeble voice now. 
 " There 's St. Felix. Wonder how they got him in." 
 
 Elliot could not smile. His gaunt, sad face appeared 
 to have lost its power to do that any more. 
 
 St. Felix saw them, and, self-possessed man that he 
 was, he staggered in his steps. 
 
 " Boys ! boys ! " was all he could say. 
 
 " Not much left of us, Doc, but all red, white an' blue 
 under the dirt still," Coke Wren declared. 
 
 The doctor grasped a hand of each. " Great God ! and 
 you will endure all this for the sake of your flag. No 
 use for the southern armies to fight such men as you 
 any further. I bring you good news. Your commanders, 
 Major Merriford and Colonel Lamond, have managed 
 to get you a free pass out of here." He could not say 
 more, for the eyes of the two were more than he could 
 stand. 
 
 "You mean," Elliot said, "that you have done the
 
 LOCKET AND CHAIN 489 
 
 biggest part of it. The South never held a grander 
 man than Dr. St. Felix." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm not much, small, you know," the doctor 
 tried to smile. 
 
 "Yes, we know darned well about your size," Coke 
 declared. 
 
 The three hastened from the place, but not before 
 Elliot had said good-by to many, and joy and regret 
 went with him, for Doctor Darrow was a friend to many. 
 
 " I 'm glad Missouri is gone, Coke," Elliot said. " He 
 died bravely and we could n't have left him here." 
 
 "He's the man Elliot Darrow turned fr^m bein' a 
 murderer to a loyal citizen by singin' to Joe once long 
 ago," Coke explained. 
 
 As they pursued their journey northward, they talked 
 of the chances of war and afterward. It seemed im 
 possible that they could ever have been enemies. 
 
 "The end is near," St. Felix said. "I shall stay in 
 Richmond. We are beaten now and I'm going to help 
 build up my South shattered by this war. You Kansas 
 men are making the West by your everlasting adherence 
 to your principle of your right to freedom. Its future 
 will be glorious if your sons and daughters value the 
 flag and hold to their loyalty and love of liberty as 
 nobly as their fathers have done. Lincoln has freed the 
 slaves. In my judgment he '11 live to regret it, but he 's 
 done it. Now, when Richmond goes down only a few 
 months hence, I know the thing is done. We did our 
 best. But somehow the men who stayed by the old 
 flag had the God of Battles with them, and you can't 
 batter down that kind of a wall." 
 
 St. Felix paused and looked at Elliot. 
 " Rosalind is to be married in October to a young 
 surgeon at the hospital. He just suits her. He is steady
 
 490 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 and she is impulsive. I'll stay near them. I hope I 
 can serve my country in its reconstruction, and I know 
 the mettle and power of the West and North, and I value 
 them as few Southern men can." 
 
 "You will be a power, doing a noble work wherever 
 you are, Dr. St. Felix," Elliot said. " When I think of 
 the South, I shall remember you. The commander of 
 that beastly prison will come to an infamous end soon 
 enough, and history cannot heap ignominy high enough 
 upon his name, nor bury him too deeply in oblivion. He 
 will be lost. I'm not going to use up strength hating 
 him." 
 
 " That 's Isabel Darrow speakin' in her boy now. Lis 
 ten to her," Coke Wren declared, as he looked admiringly 
 at Elliott. 
 
 "By the way," St. Felix said, at last. "Our old 
 acquaintance, Colonel Boniface Penwin, did you hear of 
 him?" 
 
 "No, we missed several daily papers, owin' to high 
 water down there," Coke drawled out, slowly. "What 
 of B. Penwin?" 
 
 St. Felix sighed. "A man's sins rest at last on his 
 own head. Roxbury pursued him to the last, but in 
 the end he took his own life, murdering coward that he 
 was! The last name on his lips was the name of Neil 
 Merriford. A man needs courage to face the enemies' 
 guns, but it takes a coward to face his own gun. He was 
 a gentleman, gone wrong. One evil passion after 
 another he let master him. I knew him when he owned 
 himself. A charming friend he was and a good citizen. 
 But, Elliot, a man must be master of himself to be a 
 Man. Then he's greater than he that taketh a city; 
 greater than General Grant will be when he takes Rich 
 mond, unless he can also take and hold General Grant."
 
 LOCKET AND CHAIN 491 
 
 Out in the Vinland Valley Patty Wren's " queer feel 
 ing in the top of her head" betokened some coming 
 good. With no more reason than a bird could give for 
 flying northward, she flew over to the Darrow home one 
 April morning. "I couldn't stay away, 'cause I know 
 they's joy in the air," she explained to her hostess. 
 
 Isabel Darrow's face wore the lines the sorrows of 
 war had carved in, and the silver streakings in her wavy 
 hair were permanent. No mother of a boy in Ander- 
 sonville prison ever grew younger in face and heart. 
 But noble living brings enduring charm. The steadfast, 
 intellectual, God-fearing life of this Quaker home filled 
 all the passing years with beauty. 
 
 "Yes, Patty, there is joy on earth. Richmond has 
 fallen. John Speer brought the word to Hiram over on 
 the other farm this morning. Coke is on his way home, 
 with Jupe to care for him. The doctor says he is doing 
 nicely." 
 
 Patty cooed and crowed and clucked in her joy. 
 
 "Colonel Lamond and Major Merriford will soon be 
 in Kansas. Joe is already here, but Mark will be sta 
 tioned in Wyoming for awhile," Isabel went on. 
 
 "That's why Lucy Penwin's goin' West, bless her 
 heart," Patty cried. "And when's the doctor to get 
 home again?" 
 
 Isabel smiled. " Yes, Lucy is going West," she said 
 " I don't know when Elliot will come home." 
 
 "I'll bet the girl they call 'the beauty of Kansas' 
 knows," Patty chuckled. "This queer feelin' in the top 
 of my head always means somethin' good. My! but 
 I'd give a cat to see Doctor Darrow walkin' in here. 
 Lemme know when you hear." 
 
 " I will surely do that, Patty," Isabel assured her. 
 
 October came again to Kansas with all the beauty of
 
 492 AWALLOFMEN 
 
 autumn skies and rainbow-tinted prairies. The Vinland 
 Valley swam in the heliotrope haze. The Wakarusa 
 went on its winding way to meet the Kaw. The woods 
 along the shallow draws were purple and scarlet. The 
 breeze, exhilarating as wine, swept in from far sunny 
 plains. The old Santa Fe Trail was yet the broad 
 highway for the feet of men moving Westward to a 
 new land, a wilderness of beauty and promise. 
 
 Along the old way where, in the times gone by, the 
 children of three settlers' families had gone nutting in 
 happy, care-free days, Dr. Elliot Darrow and Elizabeth 
 Lamond came again in the bloom of their young man 
 hood and womanhood. On the brow of the bluff above 
 the Vinland Valley, they sat down and looked out in 
 silence at the land over which brooded the smile of 
 Omnipotent Peace and Beneficence. 
 
 Then Elliot spoke. The light of his dark eyes was 
 as tender as of old, and in his face was a look of glad 
 expectancy. Beth's dress was of soft gray-green and 
 dark blue, with the white lines threading through it, the 
 colors her father loved. Her golden hair was coiled 
 about her head like a coronet, and her fair face wore the 
 strength of womanly beauty. 
 
 " Our ten years of trouble. Beth, do you remember 
 John Brown's promise?" 
 
 "Yes, Elliot. The prophecy was that they would 
 come, not that they would stay. The sorrowful things 
 of life do not endure. It is the joy of life that is 
 imperishable." 
 
 "How long does a Scotch lassie's strength endure?" 
 he asked, softly, as he turned toward her. 
 
 "So long as a Quaker's patience will last," Beth 
 mumured. 
 
 Elliot put his arms about her ; her golden head nestled
 
 LOCKET AND CHAIN 493 
 
 against his shoulder, and all the troubles of the ten years 
 fled away. 
 
 "I have a locket of yours, Beth. I've kept it in this 
 handkerchief of the Lamond plaid. I buried it in a lit 
 tle box at Andersonville to keep it clean. I knocked 
 Boniface Penwin down and left him insensible because 
 he tried to take it from me when I was sent to prison. 
 They put me in irons a day and night for it, but I kept 
 the locket and the silken colors, my colors, dearie." 
 
 " And I have a gold chain, Elliot. Rosalind sent it to 
 me. She took it from some soldier in the hospital. I 
 suppose the raider who took it from me died there. He 
 was the same man whom Craig Penwin drove out of the 
 ravine during the Wakarusa War. Pelathe told me all 
 about it. You may put the locket on the chain now." 
 
 And because Craig's love for this rare woman had 
 been a sincere one, Elliot never explained to her nor 
 put a stain upon his memory. 
 
 Beth's face was glorified by love's dear light, as Elliot 
 fastened the locket on the chain, and for these two the 
 way of life opened broadly and fair toward all their 
 years of nobleness and power. 
 
 The old Trail is only a memory now. The men and 
 women, the Empire Builders, who half a century ago 
 founded a kingdom on Liberty and Loyalty and Love, 
 and defended it with the strength of their brain and 
 brawn and heart these men and women are passing 
 now, or have gone hence to an inheritance incorruptible 
 and undefiled and that fadeth not away. And their 
 children, the citizens of a great commonwealth, still tell 
 their children of their own young years, when a wall 
 of men, for the love of freedom, stood round about the
 
 494 A WALL OF. MEN 
 
 young pioneer State to defend it from its foes. And 
 how these men, trained on the Western prairies, went 
 forth to larger fields and followed the old flag and bat 
 tled for it and with their brother soldiers saved it at last 
 for themselves and their nation forever. 
 
 And the third generation, the children of these pio 
 neers' children, knowing not the landmarks of the old 
 Trail, wander today where patriot feet have stood and 
 martyr blood has poured. They coast down the Big 
 Hill of the old sheltered woodland way in the icy winter 
 weather, and linger by The Hole in the Rock, and gather 
 in the halls of Baker University. They look out in 
 happy carelessness from Mount Oread's height still 
 watching over Lawrence, the altar of a State's great 
 sacrifice. 
 
 For these younger ones dream only of their own day's 
 joy, and battle with their own life problems. In the 
 serenity and safety of a blood-bought land, defended 
 by the strength of those who 
 
 Came to rear a Wall of Men 
 On Freedom's Southern line, 
 
 they gather in the rich harvests and pluck the ripe fruit 
 whose planting and pruning care was given to the 
 Empire Builders half a century ago. 
 
 THE END.
 
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