AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 .C.DeG-armo
 
 SONS OF STRENGTH
 
 Historical Series 
 
 SONS OF STRENGTH 
 
 KANSAS 
 
 By 
 
 WILLIAM R. LIGHTOH 
 
 New York 
 Doubleday, Page & Company 
 
 1906
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY 
 DOUB^EDAY & McCI<URE CO.
 
 To 
 
 my thret women-folks, 
 
 My Mother, my Wife and my little Daughter, 
 
 whose love has inspired all that is 
 
 good in me and in my work, 
 
 this story is solemnly 
 
 dedicated. 
 
 WILLIAM R. LIGHTON. 
 
 M
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. I REALIZE MYSELF i 
 
 II. I REALIZE A FEW OTHER THINGS . 10 
 
 III. TIME PASSES 20 
 
 IV. A MAN 29 
 
 V. OFF FOR KANSAS 44 
 
 VI. ELIZABETH 5 8 
 
 VII. SHADOWS CAST BEFORE ..... 66 
 
 VIII. ON THE NEW Son, 81 
 
 IX. Au, ON A SUMMER NIGHT .... 93 
 
 X. THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK . . 106 
 
 XI. AN OI<D FRIEND 119 
 
 XII. HOME MAKING 133 
 
 XIII. A NEW ELEMENT 144 
 
 XIV. To ARMS 157 
 
 XV. Ow> JOHN BROWN 165 
 
 XVI. A PRIVATE ENTERPRISE 180 
 
 XVII. A BETRAYAL AND A RESCUE . . .193 
 
 XVIII. A REUNION AND A SEPARATION . . . 204 
 
 XIX. IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS . . .215 
 
 xx. PEACE 229
 
 SONS OF STRENGTH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 I REALIZE MYSELF 
 
 ALTHOUGH I have often tried to find my 
 way, through the weary maze of days, years 
 and events, back to the time of my first 
 awakening from the dream-sleep of baby 
 hood, I have always brought up sharply at 
 one place, as against a blank wall, a wall 
 which may be scaled only in imagination. 
 But imagination is at the best illusory and 
 unsatisfying. 
 
 When I first realized myself, I was sitting 
 upon dusty grass, by the side of a dusty road. 
 A pair of stubby and dusty bare legs showed 
 below the hem of my torn and faded calico 
 dress. The evening sky, drooping wearily 
 over me, was of a dusty yellow hue. A dusty 
 canvas-covered emigrant wagon was moving
 
 2 Sons of Strength 
 
 wearily away along the road. The whole of 
 the prospect seemed grimy and gritty, wind 
 blown, dull, desolate. 
 
 My calico lap was very small, and it held a 
 scant crust of bread, a crust so pitifully 
 poor that it seemed designed to threaten 
 rather than to appease the horrors of starva 
 tion. A lean brown dog limped painfully 
 after the wagon, stopping once or twice to 
 look back doubtfully at me. At last it turned, 
 and shambled to where I sat, sniffing at me 
 and licking my face with its moist tongue; 
 then it set its nose against the bread which 
 lay in my lap, gulped it up hungrily and ran 
 away with it. 
 
 Things seemed to grow very big and sol 
 emn and lonesome as I sat watching the slow 
 jolting progress of the wagon. It was an 
 abrupt and strange awakening, past the 
 grasp of my newly aroused understanding. 
 I remember that I had a strong desire to fol 
 low the wagon, though my tired legs did not 
 move. I felt that I owned some sort of kin 
 ship with it, or with what it held, or maybe 
 with the lean horses or the dog ; I could not 
 be clear upon that point. Surely there must 
 be close relationship between the horses and
 
 I Realize Myself 3 
 
 the dog and the wagon ; for the horses were 
 starved and ribby-looking ; the dog was 
 starved and ribby-looking; and the wagon 
 looked equally poor and wretched, with its 
 canvas skin hanging in loose folds upon its 
 wooden ribs. Notwithstanding its appear 
 ance of abject poverty, my heart yearned 
 toward it, and my loneliness grew greatly 
 upon me, as the distance between us grew, 
 until at last a misty veil dropped down before 
 my eyes, through which I Saw a vast mis 
 shapen spectre of a wagon, swelling and 
 swelling ; then the veil thickened, hiding the 
 spectre altogether; and so it passed out of 
 my life. 
 
 After a little while, When the mist was 
 gone, I began to look about me, and then 
 I found that my back was propped against a 
 high brick wall. Some large trees were 
 leaning over the wall, with their elbows upon 
 the top, looking down at me in stately fash 
 ion, and shaking their heads, as though they 
 were as much puzzled as I to know what to 
 make of the matter. While I sat staring 
 helplessly up at them, behind the wall a big 
 bell began to beat slowly, and under its tone 
 I heard the sound of children's voices a
 
 4 Sons of Strength 
 
 great many of them, all going at once. In 
 the wall not far from me there was an iron 
 gate. It was closed tightly, and had a strong 
 lock upon it; but the iron plate was full of 
 little round holes. I did what a sound- 
 minded boy must do when he sees a hole 
 which promises to lead anywhere ; I got up 
 and set my eye against one of the peep-holes. 
 What I saw was a fresh mystery. 
 
 The wall enclosed a large yard, and within 
 it there stood a big giant of a brick house, 
 square-shouldered, solemn and fierce. Its 
 shuttered windows were wide open and star 
 ing fixedly, like glowering eyes, never chang 
 ing their expression of watchfulness. Its 
 big front door was gaping wide open, too, 
 like a huge hungry mouth, and into it were 
 pouring two long rows of children, one row 
 of boys and one of girls. All were dressed 
 in the same way, the boys in blue trousers, 
 blue blouses and blue caps ; the girls in blue 
 petticoats, blue aprons and blue bonnets. I 
 could not see the children's faces, but I 
 thought that they must of course be blue too, 
 and I was surprised when one of the boys 
 turned a face as white as my own, only less 
 grimy. Then I wondered whether they had
 
 I Realize Myself 5 
 
 been born in long rows. They were cer 
 tainly dressed by the row, laughing in rows, 
 talking and walking in rows. The only de 
 tail in which they were not alike was in the 
 matter of size ; they were of all sizes, within 
 the legitimate limits of childhood. 
 
 A man and a woman stood at either side of 
 the door, stuffing and crowding the children 
 into it, as though they were feeding long 
 strings of sausages into the giajit's maw. 
 And he appeared never to have enough, but 
 to be always yawning hungrily for more. 
 But at last they were all inside, and the man 
 and woman after them, and the giant closed 
 his jaws grimly upon them. 
 
 The yard which surrounded the house was 
 darkened by the shadows of great trees. The 
 grass beneath the trees seemed fresher and 
 softer than that in the road, and I wished 
 that I might get inside, to lie down ; but the 
 gate would not open, though I put my fingers 
 through the holes and pulled and shook with 
 all my strength. Then I wished that the 
 children would come out again and play, so 
 that I need not be so lonely ; but the house- 
 giant would not give them up. I grew very 
 wretched, without quite knowing what to do
 
 6 Sons of Strength 
 
 about it, unless it might be to cry. So, being 
 only a little fellow, I lay down upon the dusty 
 grass, laid my face in the hollow of my arm, 
 and cried. When the tears and the sobs 
 were done, I got up and once more put my 
 eye at its old place. The light was fading 
 quickly from the sky, and the house-giant 
 had shut its many eyes and seemed to be 
 sleeping soundly. Everything appeared to 
 be growing sleepy. I thought that the very 
 sky was going shut, as the glow passed out 
 of it, and the sound of the air in the leafy 
 trees was as though the night was snoring, 
 drawing big deep breaths. All this made me 
 grow sleepy, too, besides being cold and hun 
 gry. When a boy is cold, hungry and sleepy 
 all at once, sleep mercifully gets the best of 
 it ; and so it was with me. 
 
 When I awoke, it was to still greater mys 
 tery. I lay in one of a long row of little 
 white beds which were ranged along the wall 
 of a big room. There was another row 
 against the opposite wall, and every bed held 
 a boy, his head sticking out of the covers, his 
 eyes shut and his lips parted. When I saw 
 the straight rows of beds, with the straight 
 rows of heads upon the straight rows of pil-
 
 I Realize Myself 7 
 
 lows, I guessed at once that the house-giant 
 had been prowling around in the night, had 
 found me lying upon the ground outside the 
 fence, and had swallowed me. 
 
 The room was very quiet, save for some 
 sleepy sounds sifting in through the slats of 
 the closed shutters over the windows. It was 
 not yet full daylight, and I could only see the 
 room indistinctly, and a part at a time. My 
 bed was very soft and warm, and I lay quite 
 still, partly because of the sheer comfort of 
 lying still, and partly because I could not 
 guess what might happen if I should move 
 or make a noise. Then I dropped back into 
 a deep sea of delicious comforting sleep, 
 while daylight broadened. 
 
 At last I came awake with a start, hearing 
 again many children's voices, making a 
 great clatter. Very cautiously I peeped from 
 the shelter of the bed-clothing, and saw that 
 the room was alive and swarming with boys, 
 who were struggling, squirming and wrig 
 gling into their blue clothes. I was reassured 
 by seeing that the bare legs were all hopping 
 and skipping merrily, and the faces all smilng. 
 A man stood in the middle of the room, look 
 ing on, now and then helping some of the lit-
 
 8 Sons of Strength 
 
 tlest boys with their buttons or their shoes. 
 He was the man whom I had seen the night 
 before, when he stood by the doorway. He 
 was very broad across the shoulders, very 
 tall, and he had a brown beard which hid most 
 of his face and covered his breast. Another 
 vague sense of comfort came to me when I 
 saw that no matter how much noise the boys 
 made, this man did not try to make them be 
 still. He laughed with them; but louder 
 than they could laugh, his voice being so 
 much bigger. No one seemed to be afraid 
 of him. Some of the little boys, while he 
 was putting on their clothes, hugged him 
 around the neck, and kissed the small bare 
 places which his beard had left under his 
 eyes. I liked him from that time, and was 
 sorry that there was not a long row of him, 
 too. 
 
 Slowly I came from beneath the bed 
 clothes and sat up. When the man saw me, 
 he came and sat upon the edge of my 
 bed, taking both of my small hands into one 
 of his great ones. Behind the beard, the big 
 voice began asking me a great many ques 
 tions, none of which could I answer, though 
 I tried hard. I could not even tell him my
 
 I Realize Myself 9 
 
 name, if, indeed, I had one. But he patted 
 me kindly upon the head, and said it didn't 
 matter. He had gentle, soft eyes, which 
 seemed, even more than the rest of him, to 
 belong to the place ; for they were blue. 
 
 I was taken out of bed and put into one 
 of a row of white tubs, full of warm water, 
 and after that into a suit of blue clothes; 
 which only made me more uncertain than 
 ever as to who I might be, and where I came 
 from. At once I seemed to pass away from 
 my old self, whatever that may have been, 
 and to become lost in my new identity. But 
 before I had time to wonder very much about 
 it, the man took me into another room, 
 larger than that which held the beds; and 
 there were the rows of children once more, 
 sitting at long tables, with long rows of 
 bowls before them, filled with bread and 
 milk. And I sat down, too, and began to 
 eat bread and milk with all my might, for 
 getting everything else, even forgetting to 
 be puzzled about it, until my bowl was 
 empty, to the last drop and crumb, and I sat 
 up straight in my chair, rubbing my lips dry 
 upon the back of my hand.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 I REALIZE A FEW OTHER THINGS 
 
 THEN came a long row of days, all alike, 
 each whirling up, whirling through its brief 
 pirouette, and whirling mysteriously away, 
 all going in such mad haste that I could 
 not separate one from the others, nor remem 
 ber each one distinctly, but could only gasp 
 and catch my breath, trying to grow accus 
 tomed to the strangeness of it. They were 
 notable days, days which held plenty to eat, 
 plenty of play with plenty of play-fellows, 
 and a soft bed at night. They were days in 
 which I first laid hold of the tail of that 
 strange beast, Experience, and had it turn 
 and bite me vengefully. They were days in 
 which I took my first lessons in loving and 
 hating, lessons not got from books, but 
 from sharp encounter of eye and tongue. 
 Philosophers have made fast rules for love 
 and hate; yet when they themselves take to 
 loving and hating, they forget their rules and 
 go back to ruleless impulse. So in my baby
 
 I Realize a Few Other Things 1 1 
 
 way I was as well off as the deepest philoso 
 pher when I loved impulsively and strongly, 
 and hated with equal impulsiveness and 
 strength. 
 
 Although it seemed to break an otherwise 
 unbroken rule in my new life, I could not 
 love and hate by the row; at least, I could 
 not follow the arrangement as I found it, 
 but had to form other rows, one to be loved 
 and the other to be hated. And the row of 
 those I loved was very much the shorter. 
 
 At its head stood the big-bearded man. 
 His beard was so very large, hiding so much 
 of him, that when he spoke, with that thun 
 derous roll in his voice, he seemed to be an 
 ogre roaring from a hiding place behind a 
 thick hedge. But what he said was so gen 
 tle, and the blue eyes looking through their 
 peep-holes in the hedge were so gentle, and 
 the touch of the broad hand was so gentle 
 that there was no fearing him. I loved him 
 wholly, devotedly, with no other feeling 
 mixed with the love. 
 
 Near him in this row stood the woman 
 whom I had seen on that first night. She 
 was large, too ; but while the man was tall, 
 her bigness was all the other way. She was
 
 1 2 Sons of Strength 
 
 of an amorphous figure, and pudgy, with 
 most imposing blue yarn ankles, always in 
 evidence, and a round throat full of deep 
 rolls and wrinkles. Her sleeves she kept 
 rolled high upon her goodly arms. She had 
 a big soft breast, where a boy might pillow 
 his head and be comforted when things went 
 wrong with him. She was always laughing. 
 I never saw her lips in any shape save for a 
 laugh, except when they were puckered up 
 to kiss some one ; and then a laugh was sure 
 to come tumbling over the heels of the kiss, 
 tripping itself up. Even the deep dimples in 
 her bare elbows seemed to laugh at us, when 
 her back was turned. In the mornings when 
 I first awoke I would hear her laughing gaily 
 in the hallways; then I would begin the 
 new day happily. 
 
 There were many children in the great 
 house. I do not know when or how the 
 knowledge came to me, for it came a very 
 little at a time; but by and by I knew that 
 this was a home for such children as had no 
 other; though how or why they had none 
 was beyond my understanding, and perhaps 
 even beyond my desire to know. It took me 
 a long time to learn about the names of the
 
 I Realize a Few Other Things 13 
 
 children. In the economy of the asylum, we 
 were all marked with white numbers upon 
 our blue sleeves. After a while I found that 
 there was a big book kept by the man, in 
 which our numbers were written, together 
 with such other things as were known about 
 us. The record for me was simply : " No. 
 93. Foundling. Boy. Age, about 4. En 
 tered October 2nd, 1837. Found at Asylum 
 gate." 
 
 But numbers were not enough when we 
 children were together ; so we had names for 
 one another. Some had brought their names 
 with them when they came to the place. 
 Where they had got them was another puz 
 zle. Those who were nameless upon their 
 advent were promptly christened when they 
 took their places upon the playground under 
 the trees. By slow degrees I grew to under 
 stand that my name was Pokey Up jack. I 
 remember that I had a certain slow way of 
 doing everything, a slow way of eating, a 
 slow way of getting angry, and a slow way 
 of standing apart, while play was going on, 
 until it was all a mad whirl of excitement, 
 when I would be sucked irresistibly into the 
 maelstrom. So it was, doubtless, that I came
 
 14 Sons of Strength 
 
 to be called Pokey. Whence or why the 
 Upjack I never knew. 
 
 There was one of the boys, a little larger 
 than I, whose name was Blinky Meade. He 
 was a strange little fellow, set apart from the 
 others by his love of solitude. Naturally 
 enough, he and I drew together more and 
 more closely as time passed. I do not un 
 derstand why he was called " Blinky," for 
 his big brown eyes were always solemnly 
 wide open. His lips were very red and full, 
 and his face was covered over with freckles, 
 freckles so large that he seemed a brindled 
 boy. When I had known him for a long 
 time, as I then reckoned time, I asked him 
 how the freckles came to be there, and be 
 lieved him when he told me that an angel had 
 cried over him one night, when he was lying 
 awake in the dark, full of the wonder of lone 
 liness, and that the brown patches were 
 marks which the tears had left, so that the 
 angel might know him again in the day 
 light, and take care of him. He told me 
 many other things about himself, for he 
 never willingly talked of anyone but himself ; 
 and I, with confidence still fresh, believed 
 him in all things, and was glad that so re-
 
 I Realize a Few Other Things 15 
 
 markable a boy could be a friend of mine and 
 eat my apples, when I had any to be eaten. I 
 do not know what he would do with his own 
 apples. When the rest of us had them, as 
 sometimes happened, he would sit by my 
 side, his hands empty and his brown eyes 
 wistful, until I would give him mine. He 
 never asked for it; but when it was offered 
 he would take it and eat it gravely, and be 
 tween bites he would tell me things. 
 
 " This here ain't my home," he once said, 
 as we sat together beneath a large maple in 
 one corner of the yard, he with my freshly- 
 bitten russet-skinned fruit poised in his hand. 
 " I don't live here. I'm only stayin' here till 
 my folks come for me." Then another medi 
 tative bite, chewed and swallowed while his 
 eyes were fixed upon the waving leaves. 
 " Where my home is, there's a big house, 
 bigger'n this; lots, with all my folks in it, 
 an' angels, an* everything, an' lots to eat. 
 An' God, he comes to see us sometimes, an' 
 eats dinner with us. This here ain't my 
 home." By the time he had finished an 
 other mouthful, I ventured to ask why he 
 should stay in the asylum, with so grand a 
 home awaiting him. " Why," he said read-
 
 1 6 Sons of Strength 
 
 ily ; " God, he sent me here to look after you. 
 What'd you do here without me, Pokey?" 
 Which was not to be answered lightly. And 
 another time I came upon him when he stood 
 alone in the concealment of our favorite rest 
 ing place under the corner maple. He was 
 eating a piece of bread and butter, and I in 
 continently asked him for a bite. " Of 
 this ? " he asked, holding up his bread with a 
 show of vast reverence. " Why, Pokey, 
 you couldn't bite this. There ain't nobody 
 could bite this, but me an' God." Then he 
 ate what remained, slowly and with much 
 enjoyment. I tell these things to show what 
 a strange boy he was; but I did not doubt 
 him then. 
 
 Adjoining the asylum yard, indeed, a 
 part of it, enclosed within an iron railing, 
 was a little graveyard. Great trees grew 
 there, too, and made it seem a pleasant place, 
 despite the solemn presence of death. There 
 were buried those of the asylum children 
 who had died within the walls. The tiny 
 graves lay in straight rows, each marked by 
 a small white headboard standing upright, 
 with the dead child's asylum number painted 
 upon it in square black figures. Even in
 
 I Realize a Few Other Things 17 
 
 death they did not escape the rows and the 
 numbers. The gate which led into the en 
 closure came open easily, and anyone who 
 wished might go in. And being some 
 times disinclined to take part in the chil 
 dren's games, I got in the habit of slip 
 ping off alone to the graveyard, where I 
 would walk up and down in the narrow lanes 
 between the headboards, rubbing the dust 
 from them with my sleeve, and wondering 
 about the children who were buried there. 
 Although I loved and reverenced Blinky 
 Meade as some one very much above me, and 
 knew that I could not pretend to the social 
 distinctions which were his, as an intimate 
 of God and the angels, I could not be quite 
 reconciled to the hard fact that there were no 
 folks whom I could claim for my own, and 
 of whom I could talk and boast. As Blinky's 
 stories multiplied, I felt a little bitter about 
 it, and thought that injury and injustice had 
 been done me, though by whom I could not 
 say. So it happened that in my longing for 
 some sort of equality with my idol, I formed 
 an attachment for one of the small graves, 
 which lay in a pretty shaded corner, and 
 called it mine. Slyly, for I was unwilling
 
 1 8 Sons of Strength 
 
 to make public confession of this odd affec 
 tion, slyly I learned that the quiet occupant 
 of this mound was a girl of six years, a 
 foundling, like myself, though I did not then 
 know what that meant. I was glad it was a 
 girl ; for upon the whole I liked girls much 
 better than boys. So I took care to keep the 
 headboard standing straight, and the grass 
 and weeds pulled and trimmed away. After 
 a time, as my sense of proprietorship grew, I 
 transplanted some white and red clover into 
 the earth of the grave, and watered it with 
 great pains, when I could do it without fear 
 of detection. Then I would sit down and 
 plan a little romance about my folks who 
 were buried there, a romance with which I 
 intended to surprise Blinky some day, when 
 I had wrought it to completion. But at 
 best my brain was clumsy in building ro 
 mance, and many days passed before I dared 
 think of letting him into my secret. I had 
 never heard him speak of any graves which 
 were his, and I took great pride in thinking 
 that I had a precious possession which had 
 been denied to him. At last one day I took 
 him with me, and with some misgivings 
 showed him the grave and told him a breath-
 
 I Realize a Few Other Things 1 9 
 
 less story; that there were my father and 
 mother, all my sisters and brothers, and a 
 lot of angels who belonged to me, enough 
 to people a small paradise, as indeed they 
 had done for me. "And, Blinky," I said; 
 "you ain't got no graves, with people in 
 'em." But in the flash of Blinky 's eye I saw 
 the fire which was to burn to the dull ground 
 my first air-castle. 
 
 " 'Course I ain't," he said scornfully. 
 " What do I want with old graves ? My 
 folks don't get dead ; it's only common folks 
 what dies." 
 
 Thereafter I neglected my charge, and 
 suffered the weeds and grass to grow as of 
 old.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 I HAVE told some inconsequential things, 
 things which may not all belong to the 
 proper sequence of my story. But when an 
 old man sets about telling of his life, or when 
 he thinks of it, in the deep quiet of his own 
 mind, he is very apt to dwell longest and 
 most fondly upon some of the little things of 
 no consequence; for they may be more a 
 part of himself, and may have had more than 
 the larger events to do with the making of 
 his manhood. When the man has grown to 
 strength, large things may not move him; 
 but small happenings make the sum-total of 
 childhood. Such small things as I have re 
 lated formed the bulk of my life until I was 
 about ten years old, and had begun to learn 
 something from books, and to understand 
 that there was a part of life before me, for 
 which I must prepare; which I believe to 
 be the crudest lesson of childhood. But
 
 Time Passes 21 
 
 they were happy years ; although that seems 
 a strange thing to say of an asylum life. 
 
 For some reason not to be explained, un 
 less it might be that I was a sober little fel 
 low, serious and grave-eyed beyond my 
 years, I was a favourite of Hale's (for that 
 was the name of the big-bearded man). He 
 used very often to have me by his side, 
 when he would talk to me as to a man 
 of his own understanding. He made me to 
 love books ; especially those that told of great 
 events which had made and moulded men, 
 and still more wonderful and fascinating 
 those that told of men who had made 
 and moulded events. Such books I would 
 read, boy though I was, with heart beating 
 fiercely, and with brain throbbing full of wild 
 blood. He also taught me to love the gentler 
 side of human character, and to think some 
 what of what men had been, as well as of 
 what they had done. But more than all those 
 things, he taught me to love himself; and al 
 though we did not consciously try, that was 
 the easiest lesson which he had to teach or 
 I to learn. I remember him now as I 
 thought of him then, gentle as the lightest 
 breath of summer air in the trees, strong as
 
 22 Sons of Strength 
 
 the brown earth, and true as the blue sky. 
 As I loved him, so do I love his memory. 
 
 While I was growing up, Blinky Meade 
 was also growing ; but he seemed to grow in 
 all things much faster than I. I have said of 
 him that as a boy of six years he was a 
 strange little fellow, and one set apart. That 
 became more and more true of him as he 
 added other years to those six. He was 
 never dependent upon any one for the good 
 he got out of life ; he drew upon his own re 
 sources, and thanked no one for aid. 
 
 I do not remember when I first grew to 
 understand that Blinky's tales of wonder 
 were lies; perhaps that, like all others of 
 those early lessons, was learned by slow de 
 grees, so that the disillusioning might not be 
 too sudden and great a shock. I know that 
 after a time my slow wits understood that 
 Blinky was a liar, not a coarse and common 
 liar ; for his tales were often marvels of vivid 
 and fervid beauty : still he was a liar, and no 
 longer the same to me when I had 
 found it out. I hardly know what to 
 say of our relations after that; it would 
 matter very little, save for what was destined 
 to come to us when we were men. We were
 
 Time Passes 23 
 
 still very close to each other in many ways; 
 but it was more like men's friendship than 
 children's, because of its element of reserve 
 and distrust, a sad comment upon man 
 hood, but not to be gainsaid. It was Hale 
 who unwittingly threw this vague shadow 
 between us, by teaching me to love the plain 
 pure truth and not to depart from it. I know 
 that I reverenced Blinky less when I had so 
 outgrown the innocent confidence of child 
 hood that I was able to detect a lie. But we 
 were always friends; he was the only child 
 for whom my heart held a child's faithful 
 adoration. I relied and rested upon him, for 
 I felt great need of friends. He relied upon 
 no one save himself and the creatures of his 
 imagination. He had a sturdy independ 
 ence, a square setting of his head upon his 
 little shoulders, and a way of flashing strange 
 lights from his brown eyes. He did not like 
 to obey rules; he loved to set his foot hard 
 upon the tail of rule and propriety, for the 
 pure love of the uproar which followed. But 
 I should like to say once more that I loved 
 him, and I think that he loved me as well as 
 he could love any one save himself. 
 
 I have passed hastily over these few years.
 
 24 Sons of Strength 
 
 I should like to dwell upon them, but I could 
 not justify such lingering by any large rela 
 tion which they bear to my story. During 
 that time I learned many things, some of the 
 lessons being easy and some being very hard. 
 One of the hardest was that as I grew older I 
 must leave behind me a great deal of what 
 had been very sweet and pure and pleasant. 
 It is a sad thing to put off oneself, to grow 
 away regretfully from what one has been. I 
 did not like to realize that innocent child 
 hood was dropping away from me, drop 
 ping, dropping, dropping each day, while I 
 looked more and more into the future. Our 
 tenure of life is after all so fleeting, so mo 
 mentary, so disproportioned to our easy 
 sense of the security of living ! 
 
 In this later time, Hale used often to sit 
 with me under the trees, talking to me in his 
 gentle way of many things, of my studies, 
 and of plans for the time when I should be a 
 man. He chose that way to give me courage 
 for hard work. But one day, when we were 
 together, he passed little by little from words 
 into silence, keeping his hand upon my shoul 
 der with an affectionate pressure, then at last 
 laying it upon my head and lifting my face
 
 Time Passes 25 
 
 so that he might look into my eyes. In his 
 own eyes I saw a shadow ; hovering at first, 
 then growing persistent, as of something 
 coming, not yet to be clearly seen, but only 
 guessed at by the shadow. I knew that he 
 had something more to say ; so I slipped my 
 small hand into his great one, and waited. 
 
 "Pokey," he said at last, quite suddenly 
 (he always called me by the name which the 
 boys had given me) ; "you are growing to be 
 a big boy now. Pretty soon the time will 
 come when you must go away." 
 
 Had he said that the big brick house must 
 go away; that the rows of blue children, or 
 the trees and sky must go away, he could not 
 have startled me more. I could only stare at 
 him, wondering. He held my hand, stroking 
 it softly while he talked. 
 
 "I have meant to do my whole duty by all 
 the children; but somehow I have thought 
 more of you than of the others, because I feel 
 for you a great love, besides my regard for 
 duty." He paused then for a moment, and a 
 very painful throbbing pause it was for me, 
 full of the feeling of having been lost some 
 where and forgotten. He let his eyes wander 
 over the pleasant yard, with its summer
 
 26 Sons of Strength 
 
 lights and shadows; then up to the blue sky 
 showing through the maples; then to my 
 troubled face. When he saw how troubled 
 my face was, and how full of dumb wonder, 
 he stooped and kissed me. "A part of my 
 duty is to find homes for my children, when 
 they have grown to your age, and now I 
 must find a home for you. I wish that I 
 might keep you myself, dear; but my own 
 children are so many, and I fear that I may 
 not stay here very long myself. I have 
 grown out of the place. I do not think as 
 they would like to have me upon some great 
 questions, and so they may give the asylum 
 to another man. I want to find a good home 
 for you before I go." 
 
 During all this time he had been stroking 
 my hair from my forehead, holding me close 
 to him, as though to reassure me, until at 
 last I could bear no more ; then I dropped my 
 face into his lap, and began to cry heart- 
 brokenly. He let me cry for a time, while he 
 caressed me; then he raised my head to his 
 shoulder and helped me to clear away the 
 tears. 
 
 "There," he said quietly. "Now we must 
 be men together, Pokey."
 
 Time Passes 27 
 
 As I looked into his tender face, bending 
 over me, there came upon me a sudden throb 
 of doubt as to the justice of my judgment of 
 Blinky Meade's stories about his angels. Per 
 haps I could not be sure perhaps there 
 were angels upon earth, after all; not in 
 shining clothes and white wings, as Blinky 
 said, but broad-shouldered, blue-eyed and 
 thick-bearded, manly angels. Has any one 
 ever painted such an angel into a picture? 
 Why not ? I should like to know. 
 
 "I want to talk to you about yourself, 
 dear," he went on in the same quiet way. 
 "When you are a man, I want your manhood 
 to be strong and good. There will be mighty 
 things for men to do in your lifetime, no 
 doubt, and great trials to be gone through. 
 The nation must surely see those times, be 
 fore it sees peace again. It may not come 
 while I live, but it must surely come one day. 
 It is to be a question of men's freedom, 
 Pokey. Do you know what that means ?" 
 
 I knew only in part what he meant, and so 
 for a long time he sat with me in that peace 
 ful place, talking to me of the great wrong 
 of human slavery. It was all very wonderful 
 to my boyish mind ; I could not fully under-
 
 28 Sons of Strength 
 
 stand, though he did his best to have me. It 
 is so hard for a child to understand wrong. 
 
 "So you must make yourself ready to take 
 a part by and by," he said at last. "Be a good 
 boy, and then it will not be hard or strange 
 for you to be a good man. Don't tell a lie. I 
 would like to have you willing, if it must be, 
 to die or to be shamed before all the world, 
 rather than to tell a lie, or live one." A very 
 curious thing to say in such a world, at such 
 a time, to a boy of ten years ! But I listened, 
 rapt, and have carried his lesson in my inner 
 heart, always.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A MAN 
 
 ONE day, not very long after that talk 
 with Hale, I crept away with my books, 
 longing to be alone, so that I might begin 
 practicing in secret the things that Hale had 
 taught me, for I had already learned how 
 easy and pleasant it is to be good in secret. 
 While I lay in the shadows, reading, I heard 
 Hale's big voice calling: "Pokey! Pokey! 
 Where's Pokey Upjack?" Then the children 
 upon the playground took up the cry, in shrill 
 treble chorus, until the yard was full of it, 
 and I came from my hiding place. 
 
 Hale stood upon the wide steps leading to 
 the front door of the asylum, and by his side 
 was another man. I guessed what was com 
 ing; and so, while I walked slowly toward 
 them, I looked with deep interest at the 
 stranger. 
 
 His hair was heavy and long upon his 
 shoulders, and snow-white; but the snow 
 seemed to have fallen out of due season, for 
 29
 
 30 Sons of Strength 
 
 his face was ruddy, like a young man's, and 
 unwrinkled. But it was an old face, after 
 all; for when I looked more closely I saw 
 that all the lines upon it were softened, as 
 though by the heat of manhood, and the gray 
 eyes under their shaggy brows were full of 
 that sort of kindness which belongs only to 
 age. He stood very straight and held his 
 shoulders well back. He was not large, but 
 when he was younger he must have been 
 strong; there was strength remaining in his 
 walk as he came down the steps to meet me. 
 
 "Is this the lad?" he asked of Hale; and 
 Hale answered, "Yes, this is the lad." 
 
 The old man laid his hand upon my head 
 and looked into my eyes so fixedly and long 
 that I grew a little abashed, though I tried to 
 give him back his honest glance. 
 
 "Thee looks like a good lad," he said qui 
 etly. "What has thee in thy hands?" I told 
 him: "Books." 
 
 "Books?" he said after me, with a sober 
 setting of the lines about his lips. "And both 
 arms full! There must be a weary lot of 
 them." He turned me around, so that he 
 might better see how many there were. "A 
 weary lot of them," he repeated. "And thee
 
 A Man 31 
 
 looks like a good lad. Has thee a Bible with 
 the rest?" Yes, I had a Bible. 
 
 "And does thee read it?" he asked. I an 
 swered Yes to that question also. 
 
 "And does thee do what it tells thee ?" 
 
 "No," I answered honestly. "I like to read 
 it ; but I do what he tells me," and I pointed 
 to Hale. The old man laughed softly. 
 
 "Then thee is a good lad !" he cried heart 
 ily. He stood quite still for a time, looking at 
 me intently, but appearing to be studying 
 some times me and some times himself. 
 
 "Tell me about thyself," he said at last, 
 abruptly ; and encouraged by his gentle man 
 ner, I told him all I knew of myself, and of 
 the simple thoughts and purposes that had 
 grown up in me. While I talked, he helped 
 me some times with a question, so that I kept 
 nothing back. When I had finished, he was 
 thoughtful, sitting down upon one of the 
 stone steps, so that he might think quite at 
 his leisure. He was so very deep in it, and 
 his eyes seemed to be so far away that I al 
 most lost hope of having him get back to me ; 
 but at last he looked at me. 
 
 "I once had a lad like thee," he said 
 simply; "a good lad, and one who loved
 
 32 Sons of Strength 
 
 books." Then he stopped again, as though 
 his words came with an effort; and when I 
 looked at his face I guessed why it was so; 
 for those tell-tale lines by his mouth were 
 wavering and uncertain. "My lad died, 
 thirty years ago," he went on very gently; 
 "but I have seemed to see him again to-day, 
 in thee. Thee must come home with me and 
 stop with us a bit, so that we may get to 
 know thee better. Would thee like to do 
 that?" 
 
 Before I answered, I glanced at Hale. His 
 eyes were glistening. I loved him very much, 
 and could not bear to think of leaving him. 
 
 "You would better go, Pokey," he said, 
 though he, too, seemed to speak with a 
 strong effort. I turned once more to the old 
 man, bravely trying to hide my tears, think 
 ing that tears might not be manly enough to 
 please him. But he seemed glad to see me 
 crying, for he said again and again: "Thee 
 is a good lad a good lad!" And so it was 
 arranged that he should come for me the 
 next day and take me to his home. 
 
 I do not like to think of that day, for it was 
 one of the hardest though one of the kindest 
 and sweetest of my life. That may be hard
 
 A Man 33 
 
 to understand. I was leaving a great deal 
 behind me, and the future was becoming very 
 big and real and near at hand. I hoped that 
 there might be some of the children who 
 would be sorry because of my going away; 
 but they did not show any sorrow ; they only 
 looked at me with round eyes, when they 
 knew of my fortune, as though they envied 
 me. Even Blinky Meade fell below my 
 hopes, for he did not change from his usual 
 manner of solemn indifference, though he 
 spoke frankly to me. 
 
 "You're going to lose me, Pokey," he said, 
 as though that was a summing up of all pos 
 sible evil. "What'll you do when you don't 
 have me?" But never a word of his own re 
 gret. I doubt if he felt regret. I remember 
 that when I realized how disappointed I was, 
 I prayed after a new fashion. Theretofore 
 my prayers had been nothing more than 
 overflowings of happiness ; now, for the first 
 time, I prayed for something I wanted, 
 strength. And while I prayed, God seemed 
 to smile upon me ; but it was a strange smile, 
 giving a half-promise of what I sought, 
 yet full of mysterious meaning, as though 
 He would have said to me: "All right; but
 
 34 Sons of Strength 
 
 wait a while, my boy." Before that time 
 when I wanted comfort I would go to my 
 books; but now I did not think of them as 
 able to help me. I must have been wiser than 
 I knew. Books are not often very fecund 
 with the sort of wisdom which is of use when 
 the heart is beating out of time. 
 
 But my books were all packed up with the 
 rest of my things, to be ready when the old 
 man should come. He came about the mid 
 dle of the day, riding in a big farm-wagon 
 drawn by strong horses, and my few belong 
 ings were stowed away in the wagon, while 
 the asylum children stood around, looking 
 on. But none of them cried. When I was 
 ready to go, I looked at Hale. I suppose I 
 did not appear very cheerful. When he saw 
 my plight, his eyes filled with tears and he 
 lifted me in his strong arms. 
 
 "There, there !" he said softly. "Keep up a 
 good heart, my dear boy. You will soon be a 
 man, and I shall be very proud of you. Try 
 to remember what I have told you. Be truth 
 ful and true, and everything will be right 
 with you." He kissed me upon the lips, and 
 his wife hugged me to her gentle breast. 
 Then I got into my seat in the wagon and
 
 A Man 35 
 
 was driven away, while over me there came a 
 flood of visions and of recollections; 
 strongest of all, the memory of the day of 
 my awakening, years before, when I sat by 
 that roadside, watching another wagon fad 
 ing out of sight, and longing to follow it. 
 
 It is good that children have large reserve 
 powers of being happy; that while they 
 have neither the strength nor the wisdom to 
 shape things for themselves, they can turn 
 adverse circumstances to account and be 
 happy nevertheless. That ought to be a man's 
 power, rather than a child's, inasmuch as 
 men are supposed to get wisdom in the 
 course of their growth out of childhood. But 
 children have the best of it, despite our 
 philosophy of wisdom. Except we become as 
 little children, we are forbidden to share in 
 the kingdom of God, whatever that may be 
 or mean. Perhaps if we carried something of 
 the quality of childhood into our years of 
 greater wisdom, we should find the kingdom 
 of God nearer at hand than we are used to 
 think it, and not so very mystical and mythi 
 cal after all. 
 
 As we rode along, it was not very long un 
 til I lost some of the sharp sorrow of parting,
 
 36 Sons of Strength 
 
 and began to wonder what might be in store 
 for me in my new home. I cast covert 
 glances at the old man now and again, and 
 at last I caught him looking sidewise slyly at 
 me. He broke into a warm laugh, very good 
 and pleasant, a laugh that made me think 
 of a broad hillside covered with waving ripe 
 wheat lying ready in the sunshine for cut 
 ting; it was so very mellow, and so full of a 
 sweet outdoor sound. 
 
 "Well, well!" he said gleefully; "we have 
 run each other down. Now we must like one 
 another. I shall not be afraid of thee any 
 more, and thee must not fear me. Fear isn't 
 so nice as love; does thee think so?" And 
 after that I did not have much trouble in lov 
 ing him. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when we 
 reached his home; but when we drew near, 
 the mere sight of the place was enough to 
 take away the weariness of the long ride. It 
 was a large farm-house, standing in a beauti 
 ful yard, with generous fields all around it. 
 There was a wide verandah in front of the 
 house, covered with a thick web of vines, and 
 the dooryard was gay with flowers. It was 
 all very quiet and peaceful, like Sunday.
 
 A Man 37 
 
 The old man's wife (I knew at once that 
 she was his wife, because she was so like him 
 self) came out to meet us when the wagon 
 stopped before the gate. First of all, the old 
 man stooped and kissed her ; then he led me 
 to her, and she bent down to kiss me. She 
 had a serene and beautiful face. Her eyes 
 were like a June sky, blue and deep so deep 
 that there was no getting to the bottom of 
 them. No mean creature ever had large, 
 clear straightforward eyes, placid and peace 
 ful. 
 
 They took me into their home and gave me 
 a part of it. Those two were all that made up 
 the home, excepting some young and strong 
 men and women who worked upon the farm. 
 Every one seemed happy, as though life was 
 well worth while. It is not easy to be brief 
 in telling of such pleasant things ; but I must 
 say at once and abruptly that those gentle 
 Quakers loved me and were good to me, 
 while I grew to manhood. 
 
 Does one know when he first becomes a 
 unan? I used to wonder about that, as the 
 years passed. I grew to be very big and 
 strong, with much breadth of shoulders, and 
 sturdy legs under me, and I was able to do a 
 
 387*826
 
 38 Sons of Strength 
 
 man's work while my understanding was still 
 boyish. Like most men, I had a certain pride 
 of size and of vigour of bone and muscle. 
 When I was eighteen, there was none of the 
 farm-hands who could put me upon my back 
 in wrestling. But when I thought about it 
 quietly, meaning to be honest with myself, I 
 knew that I was not yet a man, and I longed 
 for the time to come when I should be able to 
 prove myself. A man's strength, whether it 
 be of muscle or of brain, is of little value to 
 him until it is proved. The peaceful life upon 
 the farm, with rain and sunshine and change 
 of seasons, seemed to be of small service to 
 me, except as it was putting health into me 
 against the time of need. The time had been 
 when I regretted the fading of childhood ; 
 now I wished to take leave of it altogether. 
 
 But it was good to wait, after all ; for the 
 years of waiting were full of many things, 
 things not all to be told of, but all going to 
 make up the sum of manhood. Many good 
 influences had been slowly taken into solution 
 in my character, and in the later time, as the 
 volatile spirit of youth began to evaporate, 
 those good influences crystalized into the 
 firm resolve to honour my godly teachers by
 
 A Man 39 
 
 being a good man. And then it was, no 
 doubt, that real manhood laid hold upon me. 
 Conscious effort toward goodness is not a 
 thing which pertains to childhood. When 
 such conscious effort begins to ferment in the 
 heart, one may know that he has passed that 
 hard-to-be-defined boundary, that he has 
 stepped aside from the dewy by-paths of 
 childhood, and is out at last upon the dusty 
 highway. 
 
 As the years ran on, peacefully, happily, 
 as I have told, mighty things were stirring 
 the nation's blood, making its great heart 
 beat to a strange new measure. At last, when 
 I was near to my majority as nearly as I 
 could guess my age there was high flood of 
 excitement in our quiet neighbourhood, and 
 in every quiet home. The news had come 
 the very air was electrically charged with it 
 that Congress was in labour with a fateful 
 birth. Politics had indeed made strange bed 
 fellows. This political love-child was to be 
 christened Squatter Sovereignty, and was to 
 have for its playground a part of the vast 
 prairies of the West. There could be no 
 doubt that it would become a lusty child ; cer 
 tainly its care would prove troublesome.
 
 40 Sons of Strength 
 
 There were those who hoped and prayed that 
 it might die in the throes of birth ; but it was 
 hope devoid of reason, and prayer devoid of 
 faith. The political midwives were ac 
 counted skillful ; there was very little uncer 
 tainty as to the outcome. Meanwhile, those 
 who listened for the infant's first cry of life 
 were setting their lips grimly. 
 
 Adams, my good old Quaker, divided his 
 speech between laments over the weakness of 
 the nation's counsellors, and laments over his 
 own growing weakness of eye and limb. 
 
 "What does thee think, lad?" he once 
 asked of me, his eager old voice trembling; 
 "are we only a race of political weaklings ? 
 Have we no more heroes ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," I told him, with the feeling 
 strong upon me that I spoke the truth, 
 though prophecy is always a dangerous busi 
 ness. "Times of trial always make heroes. 
 Why should this time fail ?" 
 
 He bent his head upon his arm, and re 
 mained silent for a long time. 
 
 "God send it may be so !" he cried at last. 
 "I wish it had pleased Him to let me keep a 
 man's strength of body, while I keep a man's 
 will and purpose !" He got upon his feet, and
 
 A Man 41 
 
 every line upon his strong face was drawn 
 tense. But in a moment he sank back into his 
 seat, and his age seemed to rest upon him 
 with a great weight. "I have passed the time 
 of vigour, and shall have to sit still here at 
 home and look on at others acting the part of 
 men!" He was not used to talking in that 
 way; but since I have grown old, I know 
 what he felt, and how cruelly hard a thing it 
 was that had fallen upon him. By and by he 
 arose and came close to me, resting his 
 hands upon my shoulders, while his dimmed 
 eyes glowed and blazed as a dying fire will 
 flame fitfully through its wreathing smoke 
 and gathering ash. 
 
 "I am not going to be disappointed in thee, 
 am I, Pokey?" he asked. I was glad from the 
 depths of my heart that I could look without 
 flinching into his earnest eyes. 
 
 "Do you mean that you want me to go to 
 Kansas ?" I asked. 
 
 "Thee must go, lad, if the territory is 
 opened. And thee must be strong enough 
 for two, because I am only an old man an 
 old man." He said it over and over again, as 
 though he thought it a reproach rather than 
 an honour. "Thee must go !" he repeated.
 
 42 Sons of Strength 
 
 "Yes," I said; "yes, I will go. Surely, I 
 will go." The old man, in his eager delight, 
 kissed me upon the cheek, as he might have 
 kissed a child that had pleased him. 
 
 "I am not so hopeless any more about he 
 roes," he said, and his look was very sweet 
 and pleasant. But my promise had been made 
 willingly ; yes, more than willingly, for I was 
 full of a new-born passionate desire to have 
 a part in manly striTe. And here was to be 
 the chance, made ready to my hand. I was 
 longing to practice the things that had been 
 taught me, to practice them not in secret, 
 but openly and in the sight of men. 
 
 "Thee does not need to be warned of what 
 thy going may mean," Adams said after a 
 thoughtful pause. "There will be great hard 
 ship to be borne, no doubt, as men look upon 
 hardship. But the mark of the real hero 
 and I hope that time may show the mark 
 upon thee is that he does not think of the 
 hardness of things when he is undergoing 
 them, but thinks only of the glory of the out 
 come." He was walking back and forth as 
 he talked ; and he talked as though all his life 
 was being summed up in what he said, 
 though his words were so few. "It would be
 
 A Man 43 
 
 a glorious thing, my dear lad, if the spread of 
 human slavery might be cut off from new 
 soil. And thee will find others there like thy 
 self, to bear good company. To bear com 
 pany to such a cause would be almost like 
 bearing company to God. Oh, I wish I might 
 go!" It was very strange to hear from his 
 lips words which had in them anything like 
 a flavour of discontent or rebellion. "Maybe I 
 do wrong to get so impatient," he said, with 
 quick return to his usual placid temper ; "but 
 a man who has been strong does not easily 
 grow reconciled to weakness and infirmity. 
 But there ! Thee must play the man for both 
 of us!" 
 
 With all my soul I resolved to live up to all 
 I knew of manhood.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 OFF FOR KANSAS 
 
 THE days passed swiftly, when a definite 
 purpose had been injected into them. We 
 waited impatiently for the news, which we 
 knew must come, that Kansas had been 
 thrown open for settlement, for settlement 
 and war. We were all full of courage, and 
 this was not at all abated when we learned, 
 little by little, what we might have to meet in 
 our new home. It is but natural for a man 
 to long to measure his integrity and fortitude 
 not alone by wordy boasting, but by the 
 stress of large events. 
 
 The springtime of 1854 had been full of 
 goodly promise upon our Illinois prairies, 
 strong and lusty, so that every living thing 
 seemed to be full of vigour, and trying to do 
 its best. Life out of doors was very sweet, 
 with muscles straining at the plow, while 
 hearts beat time to the movement of mighty 
 thoughts. Thus spring ripened, and the 
 44
 
 Off for Kansas 45 
 
 prairies were gorgeously alight with the 
 prophecy of summer. 
 
 Upon the first day of June, while we sat 
 at our noon-time dinner, our hearty appe 
 tites were suddenly abated by a shout from a 
 horseman who had drawn rein at our gate. 
 
 "Come out here!" he called and we saw 
 that he waved a newspaper over his head. I 
 was at the gate in a moment, so eager that I 
 let Adams follow as best he might. 
 
 "President Pierce has signed the bill !" the 
 rider cried. "May 3Oth, yesterday. Here it 
 is; read it!" 
 
 He thrust the paper into my hand. The 
 words were black at the tops of the columns. 
 The news was very simple and plain, yet 
 throbbing-full of portentous meaning. 
 
 "So it is law," Adams said quietly, as he 
 came up and looked over my shoulder. His 
 seventy-three years appeared to be not so 
 great a weight after all, just then, and his 
 eyes were glorious. 
 
 "There's to be a meeting in town to 
 night," the horseman said. "Come in. There's 
 emigration news from Boston, too great 
 news. They're on fire back there. And say ! 
 A lot of fat-heads went to work and tolled
 
 46 Sons of Strength 
 
 the bells on the churches in town last night ; 
 said freedom's dead, you know! I think 
 they're in too damned big a hurry with the 
 funeral. We aren't a lot of boys, are we, up 
 north here ? No, sir ! We'll fight, won't we ? 
 I reckon so ! Just give us a chance. What ! 
 Well, I'm going on to stir up some more of 
 you farmers. You be sure to come in, you 
 two. We want every man about here to come 
 in and speak his mind." He struck his horse 
 upon the flank with a switch he carried, but 
 before the beast could get away, the rider had 
 drawn rein again. He was an excited man. 
 
 "Say!" he cried; "this means war, don't 
 you know it ?" 
 
 "War?" Adams repeated sadly. "War? 
 Does thee think so, friend? Does thee 
 really think so ?" 
 
 "It certainly does," the other man an 
 swered. "Mark what I tell you ; Kansas will 
 be only the beginning. No matter who gets 
 the worst of it out there, the other side won't 
 quit, will it? Right or wrong don't make 
 any difference ; Americans don't quit for one 
 licking." 
 
 Adams was giving no heed to this noisy
 
 Off for Kansas 47 
 
 speech. I could read in his eyes that his 
 thoughts were very far away. 
 
 "And you mind this, too," our visitor said : 
 "we're going to get the worst of it for a 
 while, sure. The f ramers of the damned bill 
 have taken care of that. Missouri's right 
 across the river, ain't it? What'll they be 
 doing in Missouri ? What are they there for? 
 Of course we'll get licked. But we'll stay 
 with 'em, won't we? Sure !" 
 
 He seemed to make light of all this. He 
 spoke as though he was relishing a good joke 
 which carried a laugh with it. It is an 
 American way. "Well, good-by, boys. I 
 can't stay here always ; I'm after the rest of 
 to-night's crowd." And this time he was off, 
 his horse striking into a quick nervous gait, 
 as though it felt something of the man's ex 
 citement. 
 
 I would have given Adams my arm to 
 lean upon, as had been my habit of late, since 
 he had become so enfeebled in limb; but he 
 did not heed the offer; he had suddenly 
 grown very erect and firm, and he carried his 
 cane as though it was a plaything, rather 
 than an aid to infirm steps.
 
 48 Sons of Strength 
 
 "We shan't lack excitement in Kansas; 
 does thee think so?" he asked. 
 
 I looked at him, smiling. "We?" I sug 
 gested. 
 
 "We!" he said after me, with hearty em 
 phasis. "Oh, I'm going, boy. Does thee 
 think I could stay at home? Then thee 
 doesn't know me." 
 
 But I knew him better than he thought ; I 
 knew him far too well to make remonstrance. 
 
 "There must be old heads, as well as young 
 arms," he said. "Old heads know best how 
 to keep peace. We do not want warfare ; for 
 wars lead nowhere save to peace at last. We 
 would better reach peace at the beginning. 
 God's ways are ways of peace. But young 
 men like thee will be hard to hold in check, 
 once their warm blood is stirred ; doesn't thee 
 think so?" 
 
 I laughed a little shamefacedly, knowing 
 that he spoke the truth. "I should like to 
 make all men keep peace, even if it is neces 
 sary to resort to war as a means of doing it." 
 
 The meeting in the town was like all 
 American public meetings. I have never seen 
 one which differed greatly from all the oth 
 ers. It was very noisy, very strong-scented,
 
 Off for Kansas 49 
 
 and very little devoted to any definite pur 
 pose, so far as surface indications showed, 
 unless that purpose might be to work itself 
 into a frothy frenzy. Parts of the newspa 
 pers were read aloud. They were full of sad 
 news from the nation's capital, sad because 
 heavy with the unspoken threat that freedom 
 was now a vagabond in the land, and must 
 take care of itself. But there was other and 
 more hopeful news from far New England, 
 whence, when all is said, the nation has 
 drawn most of its strength, and most of the 
 things worth loving and fighting for. New 
 England was not talking alone of moral sup 
 port. Moral support was cheap and plenti 
 ful. We should need men, money and means 
 for holding our own upon the prairies; and 
 those things the news from Boston promised. 
 But in our meeting there was a deep un 
 dercurrent, beneath the breath-blown sur 
 face; there is always an undercurrent in 
 the hearts of our people, though it is often 
 hard to be seen through the foam of light 
 levity or lighter boasting. It is always pres 
 ent, setting onward surely, strongly, and any 
 cause large enough to reach down to it is 
 floated in safety. Therein lies our salvation.
 
 50 Sons of Strength 
 
 While the meeting-place was tumultuous 
 with the general clamour, little groups of 
 men separated themselves from the rest and 
 stood in corners or in hallways, talking in so 
 ber undertones. Among them were to be 
 found those who were going to Kansas. 
 They were not noisy, nor wordy, nor vain 
 glorious; they had passed far beyond that 
 point. 
 
 Patience ! What a word that is ! This na 
 tion has few interpreters of its grim mean 
 ing, as others read it. We are not long suf 
 fering in idleness, when there is work to be 
 done, once we have made up our minds that 
 we are the chosen workers. We can endure, 
 but we cannot patiently wait. When we have 
 made choice of our paths, we are eager to 
 tread them ; even though they lead to death, 
 we are impatient to die. So it was with those 
 of our neighbourhood whose thoughts had 
 been turned westward. For the most part we 
 were poor men, and we wished to leave our 
 loved ones in comfort. There was no means 
 for doing that, save by attending to our 
 fields; so our fields claimed us far into the 
 summer, until we knew that we should not be 
 among the first of those to reach the new ter-
 
 Off for Kansas 51 
 
 ritory ; but we hoped that there might not be 
 need of us in the meantime. That hope was 
 our largest comfort, as our constant toil was 
 our greatest relief from the sharp discomfort 
 of seeing others soon passing westward on 
 their way to Kansas. 
 
 Through the years that had passed since I 
 left the asylum, I had heard from Hale very 
 often. Politics, the cradle of so much 
 wrong, had forced him to leave his charge, 
 to whose care he had given the best of his 
 life; but he wrote to me, and I to him. He 
 was always hopeful; such men never lose 
 hopefulness. He had made a quiet home for 
 himself in Iowa, where he might grow old in 
 peace and independence. Those times were 
 full of forebodings for those who loved up 
 rightness. I knew that Hale had suffered 
 keenly. 
 
 Of Blinky Meade I knew nothing in those 
 later years. He had left the asylum soon 
 after my own departure. He sent me one or 
 two strange letters, letters altogether like 
 himself, full of unsubstantial visions, and 
 full of the calm assurance of selfishness. 
 That was long ago, however ; I had not heard 
 of him for many years. But my thoughts
 
 52 Sons of Strength 
 
 would turn to him very often, when they had 
 time to stray from daily duty. I wondered 
 what had become of him, wondered 
 whether he was alive, and what part he 
 would take in this new world's drama. 
 
 I wished Hale to know of my purpose, 
 when once it was formed, and I set about 
 writing to him. I could think of no better 
 way of spending the heavy night hours. It 
 was to be a long letter, and the leisure of sev 
 eral nights had been spent upon it, when one 
 day a letter came to me : 
 
 "My DEAR BOY : 
 
 "This is written to send you a brief good- 
 by. We start for Kansas to-morrow. I fear 
 that there may be little time for writing from 
 the new home, but our hearts are with you al 
 ways. We hope that you may do your part. 
 Has not the time come? JOHN HALE/' 
 
 That was all. But it was quite enough. 
 When I had read the letter, my daily round 
 of prosaic life became very unreal and 
 dreamlike, as life will appear to a man when 
 his thoughts are elsewhere. But I read duty 
 in each day's labour; duty to those who 
 loved me nobly, who had made me what I 
 was, and whom I loved with an immeasura-
 
 Off for Kansas 
 
 53 
 
 ble devotion. No one can understand the 
 stress of such thoughts until he has himself 
 felt them swelling in his soul. 
 
 I am not equal to the telling of what came 
 next; but it must be told in some fashion. 
 The fervour of excitement had aroused 
 Adams from his placid unruffled age, until 
 his soul was ablaze. There is no eagerness so 
 pathetic as that of an old man when he longs 
 to do the things of youth and strength, and 
 knows all too clearly that he cannot. The 
 fire which kindled in Adams was but the 
 afterglow of his manhood, and he under 
 stood that perfectly. 
 
 "Pokey, Pokey!" he would cry to me. 
 "Thee must indeed be strong for two. I am 
 going away, but not to Kansas. Perhaps it is 
 best, for I doubt that I am fit to be the Lord's 
 servant in this work. God grant I may be 
 willing to abide by what He sends, though 
 it is hard upon me." But his thoughts were 
 not all of himself. Though his time for 
 thought was now much foreshortened, he 
 thought of us all. "Thee has been like a son 
 to me, lad, and now thee is a man. I wish I 
 might live to see thee begin thy man's work. 
 God's will, God's will!"
 
 54 Sons of Strength 
 
 And so from day to day we saw him grow 
 ing weaker and weaker, until at last he died, 
 while his aged wife sat by his side, and his 
 head lay upon my shoulder. It was a quiet 
 death, and beautiful to see. If hopeful life 
 be one of God's blessings, what shall we say 
 of such a death ? 
 
 When we had buried him upon one of the 
 fair hillsides there at home, and there was 
 but one left for me to love, the detaining 
 strength of that love was multiplied many 
 times. I could not go away, though the 
 passing months brought urgent calls. Ill- 
 omened things were happening in Kansas. 
 Early prophecies of those who doubted our 
 national integrity were seeming to find large 
 fulfillment. The pioneers were beset by 
 stronger evils than their fears had created; 
 for they had feared unorganized lawless 
 ness and violence, while their enemies were 
 in fact controlled and organized by able 
 leaders, whose every thought and act was 
 embittered with hatred. They asked no ques 
 tions of the proprieties. They had resorted 
 to any means which promised effectiveness 
 in dealing with the matters in hand. Popu 
 lar elections in Kansas had been turned into
 
 Off for Kansas 5$ 
 
 grim burlesques by invading hordes of armed 
 men ; the government of the territory was in 
 the hands of those who had effected its open 
 ing for settlement, just as had been in 
 tended from the beginning. Theirs was not 
 a pacific policy, but one of terrorizing, al 
 ways a favorite policy of the short-sighted. 
 Force of numbers had given the invaders a 
 semblance of success for the time being; but 
 the future was something over which the 
 thoughtful were puckering their brows, 
 doubtful whether its problems were to be 
 solved save by opposing force. The crime of 
 murder had reddened the black page. Peace 
 ful settlers who had resisted usurped au 
 thority had suffered death; settlers not so 
 mild-hearted had themselves resorted to kill 
 ing. No one could see the end; all awaited 
 the inevitable crash of final conflict. 
 
 In the spring of the new year, Adams' old 
 wife went to seek him in that far country, 
 where she too might be made acquainted 
 with God's ways, which are indeed ways of 
 peace. Who can doubt that a life of godli 
 ness is well worth while, if its end comes at 
 last with such ineffable sweetness and se 
 renity? I had few tears toi the departure of
 
 56 Sons of Strength 
 
 my well-beloved friend, for whom death was 
 the crowning glory of life. 
 
 I remained at home for only the little time 
 that was needed to straighten the simple 
 worldly affairs of those good souls; then I 
 was ready to face destiny, hopeful that it 
 might be measured to my impetuous desires 
 for vigorous action. I joined the first party 
 which went westward through our neigh 
 bourhood. 
 
 There were three wagons and six men in 
 our party, the men all young and strong, and 
 all rich in that delicious inexperience which 
 makes youth so sweet. We gave sufferance 
 to no thought save that things must turn out 
 well by and by. We could only guess what 
 would come in the meantime, and foreboding 
 of ill is not a trick in which young men are 
 skillful. Perhaps we were a little dismayed 
 and afraid some times; but the fear came 
 only in brief flashes, like those from a hover 
 ing storm-cloud, while our courage was like 
 sunshine. Our wagons were loaded with the 
 tools of peaceful pioneering, and with some 
 other tools which did not go so well with the 
 thought of peace. We were well provided
 
 Off for Kansas 57 
 
 with all things that we were likely to need in 
 making our way in a new country. 
 
 The journey was all too slow, for we were 
 heavily laden. Through the long August 
 days we plodded onward upon the summer- 
 clad roads, and at night we slept upon the 
 ground, beneath the broad summer sky. On 
 ward, onward; each day onward, while we 
 gathered health and strength, will and forti 
 tude, knowing that we were likely to need all, 
 and longing for the time to come when we 
 might begin using them.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ELIZABETH 
 
 AFTER a few days we were joined by two 
 other wagons which came into our road from 
 the north, and we all went on together. The 
 strangers were from Ohio, where some good 
 men have been born. The days passed more 
 quickly when they were with us ; and I found 
 them passing pleasantly, too. I do not quite 
 know how to tell about it, except in a very 
 plain way. 
 
 There were four of the newcomers, two 
 men and two women. Of the women, one 
 had settled into the rigid composure of mid 
 dle age, taking things as they came, without 
 either enthusiasm or complaining. She was 
 the wife of one of the men, and a good wife, 
 no doubt. If shewas a little too stolid for my 
 liking, she was also solid and substantial, 
 one of those strong creatures upon whom the 
 heaviest burdens rest lightly. But my 
 thoughts were not very much concerned 
 about her; they were busy with dwelling
 
 Elizabeth y 
 
 upon the other woman, who was of about my 
 own age. I am quite hopeless of being able to 
 write what I saw in her and thought about 
 her. 
 
 She was light and slender of body, but so 
 lithe that no one would have thought her 
 wanting in agile strength, save that she 
 lacked the ruddy hue which marks the more 
 robust. Her hair was glorious, massive, 
 and full of bright living lights; and, though 
 it was worn in a demure fashion, it seemed 
 rebellious of confinement, and to be strug 
 gling for a freedom of its own in the pure 
 summer air ; so that there were always light 
 strands of it flying about her ears, or blown 
 across her cheeks. She had a good clear 
 face, which was moulded into strong lines, 
 each full of virile character, and there seemed 
 to be no room for those lighter and more 
 fleeting dimples and shadows without which 
 few women's faces are beautiful. But as 
 I looked at her furtively now and again, and 
 as I dwelt upon those glimpses in the inter 
 vals, I became satisfied that she was very 
 beautiful, though it was not easy to say 
 wherein her beauty lay. 
 
 Sometimes she would leave her seat in the
 
 60 Sons of Strength 
 
 wagon and walk by the roadside, as though 
 she enjoyed it, and found such activity a 
 greater luxury than sitting still. At such 
 times I found myself growing restive, too; 
 and on the second day I left my wagon and 
 walked by her side. There was such commu 
 nity of interest in our party that my meeting 
 with her was free from any constraint. When 
 I drew near to her, she looked at me with per 
 fect frankness, and then I knew at once why 
 I thought her beautiful ; it was because of her 
 eyes. They were large clear eyes, blue and 
 pure, and deep enough to hold every human 
 passion, gentle sympathy and kindness and 
 love, yes, and just hatred, too, no doubt, if 
 the turn of events might arouse it. 
 
 "We shall be many days together," I said 
 for introduction. "We ought to know each 
 other's name, even if we know no more. My 
 name is Pokey Upjack." 
 
 By the mention of my name to a stranger, 
 I was always able to conjure a smile. Though 
 the girl's lips were controlled, I saw the smile 
 dancing in her eyes. 
 
 "My name is Elizabeth Archibald," she 
 told me simply, and the music of the soft syl 
 lables and of her calm voice gave me one of
 
 Elizabeth 6 1 
 
 those indefinable thrills of pleasure and satis 
 faction. I thought of my own name as being 
 very rude and coarsely made. 
 
 "I have been wondering to see women un 
 dertaking such a journey," I said. "I am 
 afraid that Kansas will not be a place for 
 women just yet." 
 
 It was not what I should have said, as I 
 saw at once ; for the smile sank back into the 
 depths of her eyes, and they showed instead a 
 discomforting glow of defiant light. 
 
 "Why not?" she asked. 
 
 "It will be a hard life, with very little com 
 fort in it. It is to be a life of endurance, not 
 one of enjoyment." 
 
 "Comforts !" she repeated ; and the tone of 
 her voice was changed, too, while the glow of 
 defiance was kindling into a flame. "Are you 
 one of those who think of a woman as at 
 her best when she is nurtured upon com 
 forts?" 
 
 "Well, yes," I answered honestly enough ; 
 for that was really all I then knew of women. 
 "I mean I don't like to think of a woman's 
 being subjected to hardship." 
 
 "Why are you going to Kansas?" she
 
 62 Sons of Strength 
 
 asked. "Is it for the purely selfish enjoyment 
 of a little hardship?" 
 
 "Selfish enjoyment?" I had to ask in my 
 turn. "No, of course not. It will be a hard 
 part we shall have to act in Kansas ; but that 
 is a man's duty, and a man's right." 
 
 "And a man's pleasure, too," she said; 
 "isn't that so?" 
 
 "Yes, and pleasure, too," I confessed. 
 "But it is a pleasure above the deeds them 
 selves. It is not the brute joy of fighting, but 
 the joy of fighting for a just end." 
 
 "Ah !" she breathed softly. "Then the joy 
 of doing justice, and the joys of heroism 
 are to be denied to women ?" 
 
 With the girls back at home I had been 
 used to talk, when the chance offered, of the 
 beauties of light and shadow upon the rolling 
 hills, or of the softness of the starlight. 
 Dimly I wished that I had spoken of those 
 things to this girl. 
 
 "No," I said ; "I would deny to a woman 
 nothing that she is able to do or to enjoy. I 
 doubt that a woman's strength will be equal 
 to what is before us. It is not alone a ques 
 tion of impulse or conviction. By and by the 
 intoxication of fervid impulse will be gone,
 
 Elizabeth 63 
 
 and then it will all come down to dull forti 
 tude, enough to tax the strength of the 
 strongest." 
 
 She bit her lip, so that the marks of her 
 teeth were left upon it. She was not pleased 
 with me. 
 
 "She who has the fortitude to endure the 
 trials of such place as you would assign to 
 women, must find relief in any other trial. 
 Do you think nothing better of us than you 
 have said ? Are we to be only lookers-on at 
 the serious work of life?" 
 
 My wits had but little room for turning; 
 but they were conceiving a mighty admira 
 tion for this girl. 
 
 "What will you do?" I persisted. "It is a 
 practical problem, to be solved by muscle, as 
 well as by strength of will. There will be 
 plowing in tough prairie sod, and house 
 building, to say nothing of what may have 
 to be done with rifles." 
 
 "I shall go with these people and shall do 
 my part. Haven't women always done their 
 part in new countries ? Have they ever been 
 found wanting? I have taught school in 
 Ohio. There may be schools to be taught in 
 Kansas by and by."
 
 64 Sons of Strength 
 
 Our speech had been free of any adorn 
 ments of courtesy; for we were speaking 
 honestly, and courtesy is not often absolutely 
 honest. As I turned and looked into her in 
 tent face, it was honesty which flashed out 
 again : 
 
 "If there be schools to be taught in Kan 
 sas, God grant they may be taught by such as 
 you !" I held out my hand, and when she had 
 looked at me for a moment, she laid her own 
 hand in mine. "Forgive me, won't you?" I 
 asked. "I fear I am not very wise concerning 
 women." 
 
 "No," she frankly agreed; "you are not 
 beginning right. There are some human 
 qualities that are not limited by sex." 
 
 Thereafter we talked for a little time of 
 other and lighter things. And by and by, 
 when I returned to my wagon, I had a new 
 thing to think of, for whiling away the slow 
 hours. I thought a great deal about her. 
 And at night, when I had rolled myself in my 
 blanket and lain down upon the ground, it 
 was a long time before I slept. It was a beau 
 tiful night ; heavy with sweet summer scents, 
 softly pulsing with a blur of summer sounds, 
 a light south wind keeping all gently astir ;
 
 Elizabeth 65 
 
 one of those nights which make a man think 
 that until the present moment he has not 
 tasted of the full richness of life; one of 
 those nights when eyes and ears are of no 
 distinct use, save as aids to an eerie imagina 
 tion. I think I felt something of this, as I 
 lay staring upward, and trying to form the 
 old stars into the lines of a new constellation, 
 two of the brightest for eyes, others for 
 lips and chin, and the soft mist of the milky 
 way for a mass of fair hair. It was a very 
 beautiful night.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SHADOWS CAST BEFORE 
 
 THE next day we crossed the river into 
 Missouri, where we had to expect hostile op 
 position to our progress, when it should be 
 come known what our purpose was. We had 
 heard many ominous tales of other emi 
 grants' journey ings across the state; those 
 tales might not be all true, but we knew 
 very well that we should have no cor 
 dial welcome. But that was the short 
 est way into Kansas, and our impatience 
 was far greater than our caution. We 
 had resolved to be prudent, keeping our wits 
 about us and our mouths shut, so far as 
 might be. We could do no more than that, 
 for we were but eight men, all told. Our fire 
 arms were hidden from sight, though they 
 were not beyond reach in case of need. It 
 was impossible to foretell events, and that 
 was not at all welcome ; for a man may relish 
 a known danger, while dreading one that is 
 altogether imaginary. 
 66
 
 Shadows Cast Before 67 
 
 But the days passed in outward quiet, after 
 all. Forbidding looks and undertones of 
 threatening import were lavished plentifully 
 upon us, but we met with no direct molesta 
 tion, and that was all we had hoped for. 
 Fortunately we were all endowed with a 
 large genius for silence, which has served 
 many a man in a tight place. 
 
 A part of my daily life was to walk for a 
 little while by the side of Elizabeth Archi 
 bald, and a very pleasant part of life it was, 
 full of many things of which I had not even 
 dreamed before. After that first day, we had 
 got on very well together, talking freely of 
 our new life. And by and by we began to 
 talk of other things than politics and free 
 dom. It is hard for youth to be altogether 
 abstract and impersonal. Abstractions are 
 pale and cool ; the blood of youth is red and 
 warm. She told me many things of herself, 
 and of the life that she had left behind her; 
 nor was it long until she knew my own sim 
 ple story. We were the best of friends. 
 
 And thus, with one golden summer day 
 upon another, all filled with the winey spirit 
 of free life and hope, with the blessedness of 
 unbounded health, and with anticipation of
 
 68 Sons of Strength 
 
 the early fruitage of our plans, we drew near 
 to Kansas soil. In another day or two we 
 should take our places among the makers and 
 moulders of a free state. But our journey 
 was not to be wholly uneventful; for that 
 happened which changed the course of our 
 lives. 
 
 We were plodding slowly forward through 
 the sultry day. The road did not lead 
 straight away, but twisted and turned along 
 the course of a wooded stream. The shad 
 ows vere very grateful, and the air was of a 
 balmy fragrance which acted upon our hith 
 erto alert senses like a strong sedative. We 
 were intent upon nothing save the drowsy 
 pleasure of the moment. My wagon was in 
 the lead of the train, and as I turned a sharp 
 bend in the winding trail, I came upon a sight 
 which caused me to stir myself, as though to 
 shake off sleep ; for the change was swift as 
 the transformation of a dream. 
 
 There was a cleared place in the midst of 
 the deep woodland ahead, and in the middle 
 of the clearing there stood a rude log house, 
 large, rough-hewn and mud-thatched. A 
 dull cheerlessness overhung the place, as 
 though the life of the people who lived there
 
 Shadows Cast Before 69 
 
 was a constant hard struggle to subdue the 
 persistent imps of the wilderness. The door- 
 yard held a rank growth of wild plants which 
 had arisen since the timber was cleared away, 
 making the yard to look ragged and frowzy, 
 as though the genius of pioneering had found 
 this task too great and had sat itself down in 
 deep dejection of spirit, to brood upon the 
 futility of further effort. It was not such a 
 home as I had left behind me, nor such as I 
 hoped to make for myself beyond the river. 
 But it was not the unpleasant picture of wild- 
 ness that startled me. 
 
 In the midst of the tangled yard two men 
 stood near together, facing one another. 
 Both were tall, well-made and strong, and 
 clad in the loose free style of the border, 
 with shirts of flannel open at the throat, 
 and coarse trousers tucked into the tops of 
 cowhide boots. One was a man past middle 
 life, as might be seen by his face alone ; for 
 the lift of his shoulders showed all the tense 
 vigour of the prime of physical manhood. In 
 his powerful right hand he held an uplifted 
 short whip of rawhide, ready for instant use, 
 and with it he made strong threatening ges 
 tures as he talked. The other man was
 
 yo Sons of Strength 
 
 much younger, though he had the best of it 
 in robust stature and breadth of shoulders. 
 His head and neck were full of that mas- 
 siveness of muscle and sinew which is to be 
 seen in a young bull; his face was large, 
 heavy with turgid muscles, and clean shaven, 
 or perhaps it had not yet come to the time 
 of beard. He wore no hat, but his head was 
 covered with a close-tangled thicket of tawny 
 hair. In his arms, locked tight against his 
 breast, he held a half-naked negro child 
 which cowered close to him, its face hidden 
 upon his neck. Across the child's bare back, 
 from shoulder to waist, was the livid mark of 
 a whip-stroke, with some red drops of blood 
 trickling out, dyeing the gray flannel of the 
 young rnan's shirt. 
 
 The old man's face was contorted in a 
 spasm of passion; his voice was a high- 
 pitched impotent shriek: "Put that nigger 
 down!" 
 
 The lad's voice came like the masked roll 
 of distant thunder, swelling mightily in his 
 throat, as though it was hard to be held 
 back : "I will not put her down !" 
 
 The uplifted whip danced wildly for a 
 moment, and the shriek was repeated with a
 
 Shadows Cast Before 71 
 
 fierce oath: "Damn you! Put that nigger 
 down !" But the lad stood finely erect, mak 
 ing no answer, moving no muscle. With a 
 sharp cruel sound the lash descended upon 
 him, and then it was his own blood that 
 stained the shoulder of his shirt. I stood up 
 in my place in the wagon, bringing my horses 
 to a stop. I did not wish to see murder 
 done. The young man was much more than 
 a match for the old one ; he could have killed 
 his assailant with a blow of his great fist. 
 But he did not move, save to raise his hand 
 for warding the blow from the child. When 
 the lash had fallen, he stood like a statue. 
 I did not know what to make of it, and I 
 sprang to the ground and began to push my 
 way toward them through the matted weeds. 
 The old man saw me, and he burst forth furi 
 ously : "Stand where you are ! What do you 
 want here?" 
 
 I continued forward slowly, while the 
 young man also turned and looked at me. 
 His was such a face as cannot be forgotten ; 
 it was the face of one whose manhood was at 
 its strongest and best. He was flashing red 
 and white by turns with righteous anger, yet 
 the strong firm jaw showed perfect mastery
 
 72 Sons of Strength 
 
 of self. As he glanced at me he spoke qui 
 etly, as though he read my intention : "Stand 
 where you are, please. It's all over now ; he 
 won't strike again." 
 
 "Won't I ?" the old man screamed. "You 
 put that nigger down, or I'll strike as long as 
 I can lift my hand." He brandished the 
 whip, as though to make good his word; 
 but I sprang forward and caught his uplifted 
 wrist firmly. With a harsh snarl he turned 
 upon me, struggling to wrest himself from 
 my grasp. He threw his left hand behind 
 him, striving to reach the pocket over his 
 right hip ; but the lad had set the child upon 
 the ground and come to my aid, so that we 
 each held one of the old man's arms. 
 
 "Don't let go," the young fellow said with 
 the same quiet manner and tone ; "he'll shoot, 
 sure. Wait till I take his pistol away." 
 That he did easily, slipping the weapon into 
 his own pocket, while our prisoner struggled 
 and ground his teeth in silent fury, his cheeks 
 and lips purple, his eyes frenzied. 
 
 Never in all of my life have I seen another 
 human face so devoid of humanity. As I 
 now remember it, it gave me the impression 
 of having been cheaply furnished with a lot
 
 Shadows Cast Before 73 
 
 of second-hand features, ill-matched brutal 
 eyes, a frayed fringe of dry beard about the 
 throat and chin, ill-formed lips, which could 
 not hide the irregular array of broken-down 
 yellow teeth that were straggling, toppling 
 and neglected as the stones in a forgotten 
 graveyard. It was not a face upon which 
 kindness could lie without much discomfort 
 to itself ; it seemed wholly surrendered to the 
 foul tokens of baseness and meanness, and 
 with its momentary fierce fury fresh upon 
 it, it made a most ungodly sight. 
 
 "I wish you hadn't come in," the young 
 man said to me. "I could have quieted him, 
 if I'd been alone; I've done it lots of times 
 before. There's no use try in' to quiet him 
 now, though. I reckon we're in for it. We 
 may have to stand here and hold him for a 
 week." He broke into a broad smile, as 
 though he found some humour in the posi 
 tion. But there was no reflection of the 
 smile upon the sullen old face. 
 
 "You're a strange fellow," I said, speak 
 ing my thoughts plainly, and as though we 
 were out of hearing of our captive. "Why 
 arc you afraid of him ? You could lift him 
 over your head, big as he is."
 
 74 Sons of Strength 
 
 "What good'd that do?" he answered. 
 "I'd have pitched him over the roof, long 
 ago, if I'd had my way. But he's my dad, 
 you see. I hain't got no particular regard 
 for him on that score : but I have for myself. 
 It'd kind of go against me to lift my hand 
 to him." 
 
 "Well! But look at the blood on your 
 shirt," I suggested. He appeared to have 
 forgotten his hurt. He set his teeth grimly 
 as he turned his head and looked at the dark 
 stain upon his sleeve, and his voice was pas 
 sionate when he spoke again. 
 
 "Oh, I've taken lots off of him; no two 
 ways about that. I wouldn't have took it 
 if it hadn't been for Her." 
 
 Who might Her be, I wondered; and the 
 boy answered the question in my eyes: 
 "Mam, you know. Dad's good to her. 
 Funny, ain't it? She's the only livin' soul 
 he cares a straw for. He's never touched 
 her. I've pretty near wished he would lift 
 his hand to her, sometimes, just easy, like, 
 so I could feel right about givin' him one 
 lick with my fist. But I can't do it so long 
 as he treats her right." 
 
 The old man's struggles had grown less
 
 Shadows Cast Before 75 
 
 furious, as he gradually realized the futility 
 of contending against us. He stood with 
 his chin sunk doggedly upon his breast, 
 his breath coming and going in ragged 
 gasps through his widely parted lips. Since 
 we had laid hands upon him, he had 
 not spoken an articulate word, though his 
 throat was choking with brutish sounds. He 
 had contented himself with casting evil men 
 acing looks from one of us to the other. By 
 this time two or three of the other wagons 
 of our train had reached the clearing, and at 
 sight of the struggle some of the men left 
 their seats and hurried toward us. 
 
 "Tell them to keep away," the young man 
 said. "We can take care of him." The men 
 returned to their places, though they waited, 
 to be ready in the event of need. 
 
 "Where are you going?" the young fellow 
 asked. "Is it a Kansas outfit?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered. 
 
 "What are ye? Free Soilers?" 
 
 "We are all Free Soilers," I told him. 
 
 "Abolitionists?" he persisted. 
 
 "I'm an Abolitionist," I answered ; "and so 
 are some of the rest of the party." 
 
 The old man renewed his struggles with
 
 j6 Sons of Strength 
 
 greater vigour than before, while white 
 flecks of foam lay upon his livid lips. 
 
 "Let me go !" he bellowed. "There's no 
 damned Abolitionist on top of earth shall 
 hold me !" He struck out viciously with his 
 heavily shod feet, and gave us greater trouble 
 than was welcome in the sultry air. 
 
 "I reckon two of 'em can do it, though," 
 the son said, when this spasm of energy had 
 spent itself. The old man turned his blazing 
 eyes upon the young face, and his muscles 
 suddenly relaxed. 
 
 "You !" he gasped through drawn lips. 
 
 "Yes, me!" the young man flared in an 
 swer. "Me ! An Abolitionist ! Understand? 
 Might as well come out now, Dad. The 
 same township can't hold you and me no 
 more after this, not while we're both alive." 
 
 "Then Lord strike you dead !" the father 
 cried harshly ; and again his chin sank upon 
 his breast. 
 
 There was a silence of doubt upon us for a 
 few minutes, none of us moving.The old man 
 was lost in his own gloomy thoughts. 
 
 "Say," the young giant said presently; 
 "I've got to get out of this. I can't stay 
 here no more, not after what's happened
 
 Shadows Cast Before 77 
 
 now. Ain't there some way I could fix it to 
 go over into Kansas with you folks ? I take 
 up a good sight of room myself, but I ain't 
 got much to tote with me. If you'll let me, 
 I'd like to go on with you right now. I 
 wouldn't expect to stay with you, under 
 stand; all I want's passage. I've been to 
 Kansas. I know all the settlements from 
 here to Lawrence, where most of the Free 
 Soilers goes. I know the trails to take to 
 keep away from the Pro-Slaves. You ain't 
 huntin' trouble, are you?" 
 
 I liked his manliness; his fearless sturdy 
 way appealed to me strongly. I told him 
 that he could have a seat in my wagon if he 
 wished it. 
 
 "I'm much obliged," he said simply. "I 
 ain't goin' to forget it, neither." He looked 
 at his father and then at me, with a whimsi 
 cal, half-foolish smile. "What am I goin' to 
 do with him? If we let him go, he'll stir up 
 the whole county, before we can make the 
 twelve miles between here and the river. 
 How many men have you got with your out 
 fit?" 
 
 "Eight," I answered. 
 
 "'Tain't enough," he said decisively. "If
 
 78 Sons of Strength 
 
 we let him go, he'll have thirty or forty on 
 our trail inside an hour ; an' they'll expect to 
 do some shootin', too. Thirty men can 
 mostly out-shoot eight or nine. We've got 
 to fix some way besides lettin' him loose. I 
 reckon there ain't no way but to tie him up. 
 Rosy look at that little nigger, squattin' 
 where I put her, scared to budge ! Rosy, run 
 around to the cow-yard and fetch me that 
 bunch of rope hangin' on the fence. Run 
 along, that's a good child." The pitiful lit 
 tle figure crept painfully around the corner 
 of the house, returning presently with a coil 
 of stout half-inch rope. With this, despite 
 the old man's powerful struggles, we bound 
 him hand and foot, wrapping him about 
 with the rope-ends until he was wholly help 
 less. 
 
 "I better tote him in the house," the son 
 said; and he lifted the dead-weight to his 
 shoulder and bore it into the cabin, I follow 
 ing as he beckoned me. "It's a good thing 
 Mam ain't to home," he said as he laid his 
 burden down upon the floor of an inner 
 room. "It'd go ag'in her to see Dad mis 
 treated this way." He stood for a few mo 
 ments, bending over his father, looking into
 
 Shadows Cast Before 79 
 
 the hate-distorted face. Through all this 
 later time the old man had not spoken. 
 
 "Dad," the son said; "there hain't never 
 been no love between you an' me ; but I hate 
 to be too hard on you. Will you promise not 
 to holler, if I leave your mouth loose?" The 
 only answer was a sullen stare, malevolent, 
 and full of hard unforgiveness. I turned 
 away, for I did not like to see it ; but the boy 
 was not much disturbed. "All right, Dad," 
 he said coolly; "I reckon I'll have to tie 
 your jaw up, too." He found a coarse towel 
 and began folding it into a strong bandage, 
 the old man watching with kindling eyes. 
 
 "You imp of hell !" he cried in his helpless 
 madness. "Lord hear me! Kansas won't 
 hide you from me ! I'll trail you to the end 
 of the earth I will! I will! " But ere the 
 fiery threat was done, the towel was drawn 
 beneath the wagging jaw, and tied firmly, so 
 that no sound could issue from the ugly lips 
 save the sound of wild passion simmering in 
 the hairy throat. 
 
 "It's a hot day," the son grinned. "He 
 ain't goin' to feel very good, all tied up like 
 that, an' with the doors shut. Whose fault 
 is it but his'n ? Mam won't be home till sun-
 
 80 Sons of Strength 
 
 down. Unless some of the niggers find him, 
 he'll stay here four or five good hours yet. 
 We'll be mighty close to Kansas by that 
 time." When he had reached this conclusion 
 he seemed well pleased. He delayed for a 
 little while to gather together a small bundle 
 of clothing and some odds and ends of his 
 possessions. Then we went out, closing and 
 locking the doors, leaving the old man 
 stretched upon the floor. I noticed that the 
 owl-eyed little darkey had disappeared. I 
 feared that she might spread an alarm, and 
 I said so. 
 
 "Who; Rosy?" the young man laughed. 
 "You don't need to worry about Rosy; she 
 ain't goin' to say nothin'; she can't. She 
 hain't ever talked none since she was born. 
 She's kind of foolish in her head. That's 
 what makes Dad get so mad at her, be 
 cause she don't seem to have no sense." 
 
 He took his place beside me upon my 
 wagon-seat, and our train got under way 
 once more. He was full of boyish glee, 
 which wrought his face into an expression 
 of great good humour, very different from 
 its stern square- jawed aspect when I had 
 first seen it. Despite his great size and 
 strength, he was not now much like a man.
 
 ON THE NEW SOIL 
 
 "SAY, what's your name?" my companion 
 asked after a few moments; and I told him 
 my name. 
 
 "Pokey Upjack!" he repeated slowly, 
 with an amused chuckle. "Pokey Upjack! 
 What is it? Nigger or Injun?" I told him 
 as well as I could where and how the name 
 was made. He listened with serious atten 
 tion, but without comment. 
 
 "My name's Arch McCulloch," he said 
 when I had done. "Arch is just the short of 
 it ; if you want to say it all, it's Archibald." 
 Archibald ! The name, spoken so unexpect 
 edly, conjured the warm blood to my cheeks. 
 
 "What's the matter?" he asked, looking 
 at me curiously. "You act like you'd heard 
 the name before." 
 
 "There's a lady in the train whose name 
 is Archibald," I answered ; "so I have heard 
 
 it before." 
 
 Si
 
 8 2 Sons of Strength 
 
 "That so ?" he asked, with a light show of 
 interest. "Where's she from?" 
 
 "Ohio," I answered. 
 
 "Why, Mam was an Archibald, back in 
 Ohio. That's where I got my name, for 
 her folks. Mebbe she's some of my kin. 
 Whereabouts is she?" 
 
 She was in the wagon that followed mine, 
 not so far in the rear but that McCulloch 
 could see her face clearly. "I reckon mebbe 
 she's one," he said briefly. "There ain't none 
 of 'em right down handsome, that ever I've 
 seen, chin's too square an' big, an' looks too 
 sassy. She looks like she might belong to the 
 tribe. I'll find out, when I get a clean shirt 
 on. Say, he must have hit me a right smart 
 clip ; my shoulder don't feel a bit good." He 
 lapsed into silence for a while, nursing his 
 injured arm; then he burst out: 
 
 "Dad, he's a weak one! That's why I 
 don't like him, I reckon. I don't like weak 
 ones. Mam, she's different. It's the strong 
 ones I'm sorry for, because they need it. A 
 weak one never tries to tote nothin' ; but the 
 strong ones is always tryin' to tote more'n 
 they can lift. That's Mam, all over. It 
 don't look right !" By a swift transition he
 
 On the New Soil 83 
 
 seemed once more a man, thoughtful and 
 stern-lipped. His face was subject to those 
 quick changes; it responded at once to his 
 moods. "That's why I'm sorry for Him," 
 he said. 
 
 "Him?" I repeated in question. 
 
 "Yes; Christ, you know. Don't you 
 think he pretty near needed it? He must 
 have got awful tired an' lonesome. Ever 
 been lonesome, Upjack? Say, is Upjack 
 all of your last name? Or is it all one?" 
 
 When I had answered his last question, 
 he seemed to have quite forgotten the one 
 which went before it; he did not recur to it 
 again, but talked in that inconsequential 
 manner of many things. He was a strange 
 fellow. Not once did he speak of the cir 
 cumstance of his having said good-by to 
 home, nor did he seem at all saddened by it. 
 While he talked so lightly, he made no de 
 mand upon me, save for a brief word once in 
 a while, to show that attention was awake. I 
 was studying not his speech, but himself, 
 looking at him in the light of his name, and 
 wondering what might come of this strange 
 meeting. He was perfectly sel f -centered ; 
 nothing seemed to disturb him, or to throw
 
 84 Sons of Strength 
 
 him from his balance of calm assurance. De 
 spite his knowledge of all that had occurred 
 within the space of a short hour, despite his 
 ignorance of what might come within an 
 other hour, he was not at all dismayed. He 
 made foolish jokes; he told quaint stories of 
 the life of the border; he bared his head to 
 the woodland air, and seemed quite content. 
 
 But suddenly, while he was in the midst 
 of a laugh over one of his whimsical tales, 
 and while I had my eyes fixed upon him, try 
 ing to make up my mind about him, the danc 
 ing lights went out of his eyes, and they were 
 overcast, while the heavy muscles in his face 
 were fixed. 
 
 "There's Mam comin'," he whispered, lay 
 ing his hand upon my arm. "Oh, Lord! I 
 'most wish I hadn't seen her." For the first 
 time since our meeting, he was agitated. 
 
 I looked ahead, in the direction of his dis 
 mayed glance, and though it was a heartless 
 thing to do, I laughed, for the picture there 
 was quite grotesque. Along the shaded 
 roadway a slow-paced, harness-worn old 
 mule was coming toward us, its head droop 
 ing to its knees, its eyes half-closed. Upon 
 its back there was perched a diminutive wo-
 
 On the New Soil 85 
 
 man's figure, clad in a limp and dejected garb 
 of rusty black, worn shiny and bare in places, 
 like the coat of the mule; and she wore a 
 much-creased and stringy mourning-veil 
 draped from a fashionless straw bonnet. 
 Her whole costume, if it might be called by 
 so high a name, gave pathetic assurance of 
 having been home-made out of something 
 left over; the wearer herself bore the dis 
 pirited air of being a badly-worn left-over. 
 Her black bonnet made a shelter for her face, 
 so that I could not see what she was like un 
 til she drew near to us and levelled the barrel 
 of her bonnet upon us ; then I felt sharp sor 
 row for having laughed. Her face was thin, 
 pale and haggard, as the faces of so many 
 middle-aged women are, bearing that dumb 
 but never despairing endurance which does 
 not fall to the lot of many men. It was a 
 very sad face, with faded lips held in calm 
 restraint, and worn eyes full of patience. 
 
 McCulloch leaped to the ground and ran 
 toward his mother, throwing his great arms 
 around her, lifting her from her saddle and 
 pressing her close against his breast, as he 
 might have held a child, protecting her with 
 his strength. He pushed her bonnet back,
 
 86 Sons of Strength 
 
 and kissed her again and again upon the 
 faded cheeks, upon the lips and upon the thin 
 gray hair. .When I saw that, I began to love 
 the boy. 
 
 "Mammy!" he cried with wonderful deep 
 feeling. "Dear old Mammy ! I'm goin' !" 
 
 She lay quiet in his arms, looking up into 
 his face. Her own face did not change its 
 expression, save that the lines upon it grew a 
 little deeper. 
 
 "Archy!" she said in a moment: "I knew 
 it must come, some time. I ain't sorry, be 
 cause I reckon it's best." She laid her head 
 down upon him, and he put his cheek against 
 her hair. "Mammy's baby must be a good 
 boy," she said. "There'll be a-many things 
 to go wrong with him ; but he mustn't forget 
 what Mammy's told him." The great fel 
 low seemed very plastic under her words ; the 
 muscles of his massive chin were trembling, 
 and tears were running down his broad 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Does Dad know?" she asked, and the 
 boy's tears vanished before a light laugh. 
 
 "He knows, all right," he grinned. "He 
 took it pretty quiet, too." He gave himself 
 up for a moment to frank enjoyment of his
 
 On the New Soil 87 
 
 joke; then, by another of those mysterious 
 changes he was a man again. He placed her 
 upon her saddle, and kissed her cheek with 
 all of a man's serious way. "Good-by, 
 Mammy. I ain't ever goin' to forget you. 
 You'll have a better time now, too; Dad '11 
 be peacefuller when I ain't there to keep him 
 r'iled up." And then again he kissed her 
 upon the lips, very fondly. "Now," he said, 
 "make that mule lope as hard as she can, so 
 you'll get out of sight before I weaken." 
 
 There were no more words passed between 
 them. Her thoughts were so full of him that 
 she paid no attention to the rest of us. She 
 urged the ancient mule into a heavy lumber 
 ing trot, stirring up a cloud of road-dust 
 through which beast and rider showed spec 
 trally. McCulloch stood quite still until they 
 had gone from sight down the winding road ; 
 then he laughed irresponsibly. 
 
 "A woman certainly looks comical on a 
 mule, don't she?" he said, as he climbed to 
 his place at my side; "especially if you get a 
 hind-sight of 'em. I'm glad I got to see her, 
 though; and I'm glad my last sight was a 
 hind-sight ; it looks so funny it don't make 
 me feel so bad." With no more of effort, he
 
 88 Sons of Strength 
 
 became as gay-hearted as he had been before 
 their meeting. But sometimes, as we rode 
 along, his manner would show quick flashes 
 of thoughtfulness. 
 
 "There's just one thing on earth I don't 
 know," he said at one of those times. "What 
 makes Dad and Mam stick to each other the 
 way they do ? It beats me. Every way else, 
 he's a brute ; there ain't nothin' too low-down 
 for him. But he sure does act right with 
 Mam. And say ! why Mam sticks to him like 
 he was worth it. There ain't nothin' could 
 make her go back on him. I think that's the 
 funniest thing in Missouri." 
 
 Soon the outlines of things in the wood 
 land grew shadowy and uncertain, and the 
 shadows seemed to encroach more and more 
 upon the roadway, while the tiny patches of 
 sky showing through the trees were deepen 
 ing from blue to purple. We urged our 
 horses forward. Urgent travel was most un 
 welcome on a day of such sultriness; but 
 should we fail to cross the river ere night 
 fall, we should most likely be sorry for it. 
 McCulloch was more eager than any of our 
 own party to reach Kansas at once, and he 
 made no effort to hide his anxiety.
 
 On the New Soil 89 
 
 "I ain't scared for myself," he said. "I've 
 got you fellows to think about now, after 
 you've done so much for me. I reckon I had 
 no business to come with you; I never took 
 trouble to think what it might get you into. 
 If the Blue Lodge scoundrels get after you, 
 they won't stop at anything." 
 
 "Blue Lodge?" I asked. 
 
 "Blue Lodge; yes, Social Band, Sons 
 of the South ; Lord ! don't you know about 
 them ? They're societies, an' they say they're 
 goin' to run Kansas. They've come pretty 
 near doin' it, too, seems to me. They've 
 stood pretty close together, election times, an' 
 such ; they're oath-bound, you know. Every 
 body, pretty near, except me, belongs to 'em ; 
 but I wouldn't, an' that's why I've had such 
 a warm time over home. I've kept my mouth 
 shut mostly, except to Mam ; but they suspi 
 cion that I'm a little contrary on this nigger 
 business. If we don't get over the ferry to 
 night, they'll be after us, sure, hot-foot." 
 
 But I was not very well pleased with my 
 self, when I thought about it; for here was 
 I running away from the first shadow of dan 
 ger, it was not even a shadow of real dan 
 ger ; it was nothing but a fear. I turned my
 
 90 Sons of Strength 
 
 horses out to the side of the road and let the 
 rest of the wagons pass on, so that McCul- 
 loch and I might have the hindmost place in 
 the train; then we let our horses take their 
 own time, and we felt better about it. When 
 McCulloch saw what I meant to do, he 
 laughed delightedly and laid his arm across 
 my shoulders. 
 
 "Say, me an' you ought to be pardners. I 
 like the way you do. I ain't never had a fight 
 yet; but that ain't say in' I don't want one. 
 I've been pretty close up to the edge of one 
 sometimes, but I don't seem to be able to get 
 in the middle." He held his hands together 
 upon his knees, cracking his huge knuckles 
 with great relish. "Trouble is, I ain't got no 
 judgment. If I had my way, I'd never stop 
 to think about odds or outcome; I'd just 
 fight. Mam, she's watched out for me, lots 
 of times, or I wouldn't be here now. She says 
 it ain't right to fight ! Ain't that a crazy no 
 tion ? I don't see the sense of it, except be 
 cause Mam says it. Understand,! don't want 
 to make a fuss about nothin' ; but sometimes 
 things do get so mixed up an' all wrong, 
 it looks as if a good hard lick with a big fist 
 like mine maybe might straighten 'em out.
 
 On the New Soil 91 
 
 Then's when I want to fight. An' look here, 
 I'll tell you what : If them Blue Lodge cow 
 ards ever cross my trail over in Kansas, you 
 know what I'm goin to do? I'm just goin' 
 to go to work an' forget everything Mam's 
 ever told me, until I lay a few of 'em out." 
 As I looked into his flushed face, I found 
 my heart acknowledging kinship to his, and 
 sending the warm blood in a red flood to my 
 cheeks. I thought of dear old Adams, and 
 of his gentle caution and counsel of peace; 
 and I was startled to find how soon those 
 mild influences had begun to seem very faint, 
 unreal and far away, now that I had stepped 
 into my new life and the time was drawing 
 near when I should have to make up my mind 
 for myself about the business of fighting. 
 Though I thought of Adams' warning of pa 
 tience, the echo of his words in my memory 
 did not deaden my quickening heart-beats. 
 Who, after all, will deny to a man the wild 
 joy and the glory of conflict for righteous 
 ness' sake? Is he true to himself who only 
 strives to subdue and to conquer the pulses of 
 passionate fire that beat and leap in his soul 
 when he looks upon wrong and injustice; 
 who lets the wrong go unrighted, and quiets
 
 92 Sons of Strength 
 
 his coward heart by prating of peace? It 
 does a man good to surrender himself for 
 once in a while to his longing to see justice 
 done, not counting the cost; letting heart, 
 head and hand work together, giving all that 
 he has and is to do good to his kind when 
 they need him. The purest joys of my life 
 have not come to me over the byways of cau 
 tion and prudence, but over the great broad 
 highway of manhood's God-given passions. 
 The men who have led and ruled the world 
 in its serious work have been those who have 
 placed full trust in their manhood; for cau 
 tion makes man but a pigmy, but passion 
 makes him a giant. 4 thought of these things 
 as we two sat together on that summer even 
 ing, wondering what was before us, and hop 
 ing we might have the spirit to make the 
 most of ourselves. 
 
 But we were not yet to be suffered to make 
 trial and proof of ourselves. McCulloch's 
 knots must have been well tied, for as night 
 fell we reached the shores of the river with 
 out adventure, and ere the darkness had quite 
 enclosed us we were upon the soil of the 
 great new territory, which rolled away and 
 away, a vast and beautiful land of promise.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ALL ON A SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 IT WAS a solemn hour for us all. We were 
 not mere adventurers in search of material 
 rewards for effort. We had hoped to work 
 out for ourselves the chance for walking up 
 right under a free sky, as men and women 
 surely have the right to do, and we wished to 
 open the way for other like-minded ones to 
 come after us. I do not think we were self 
 ish ; had we been so, we must have kept out 
 of Kansas. We had a purpose before which 
 the consideration of self faded away, like 
 night-fogs before sunlight. I do not say this 
 for boastfulness' sake, but because of the 
 wish that the hardy spirit of my companions 
 may be understood. We were not vain of 
 our achievement in reaching the new soil, but 
 we were pleased and glad ; serious, too, and 
 inclined to speak few words; for there was 
 among us an understanding far stronger 
 than any which might have been built upon 
 words.
 
 94 Sons of Strength 
 
 When we had gone a little way back from 
 the river-landing, by a quiet trail which Mc- 
 Culloch showed us, we made our camp for the 
 night, and after we had eaten a little, and had 
 cared for our horses and picketed them near 
 the wagons to graze, we lay down to sleep. 
 To sleep ! Once I was stretched at my length 
 upon the ground, sleep seemed a foolish 
 thing to be thought of. The flames of the 
 sinking camp-fire threw fitful lights and 
 shadows upon the white wagon-covers, 
 strange handwriting upon new walls, full of 
 portentous prophecy, if only it might be in 
 terpreted; lights prophetic of well-being; 
 shadows pregnant with threat of things not 
 all easy, though no doubt to make for our 
 good at last. And the night wind, stirring in 
 the prairie grasses, seemed to be doing its 
 best to whisper an interpretation to my lis 
 tening ears, and its voice was sweet and low 
 and soothing. I could not sleep ; I could not 
 even think. The soul sometimes reaches 
 those exalted estates where it finds the pro 
 cess of thought impossible and unnecessary ; 
 where all it needs do is to lay itself bare 
 and take its blessing without effort, fresh 
 from the hand of God. And while I lay
 
 All On a Summer Night 95 
 
 there, it was with soul bared. Manhood 
 stretched away before me like the wide 
 prairie, sun-kissed, wind-caressed, but wild 
 and unsubdued. Prairie and soul together 
 were to be wrought into order, and to render 
 of their fruits according to their richness. 
 
 By and by I saw that some one was mov 
 ing in one of the wagons. It was near to 
 midnight, and the drive of the day had been 
 long and exhausting ; I had thought that my 
 companions must all be sleeping soundly. 
 The women alone kept to the wagons in the 
 night-time ; so I knew that it was one of them 
 who had found herself stirred beyond power 
 of sleep. Why I hoped so it might have 
 been hard to say; but I did hope that it 
 was Elizabeth Archibald. In a moment 
 I saw that it was she, for she drew 
 apart the rear curtains of the wagon-cover 
 and stepped quietly down to the ground. 
 She had thrown some light drapery over her 
 head, and she began to pace softly back and 
 forth just beyond reach of the dying fire 
 light, but where I could see her form outlined 
 against the starlit sky. As I watched her, my 
 wandering thoughts came to a focus upon 
 her. Day by day, as I had looked at her,
 
 96 Sons of Strength 
 
 talked to her and listened to what she had to 
 say out of a pure heart and a resolute mind, 
 I had found myself looking not alone for 
 ward, but upward as well. I had not thought 
 of love, I mean I had not thought of lov 
 ing her, but had given myself up to those in 
 fluences which womanly goodness and purity 
 exert upon a man. Theretofore I had been 
 quite content to see her sometimes, without 
 growing impatient over delay; but now I 
 longed for the sound of her voice. I fol 
 lowed her with my eyes for a few moments 
 more; then I arose, drew on my coat which 
 had served for my pillow, and went out to 
 meet her. 
 
 She paused in her walk when she heard my 
 step in the long grass, and I said quietly, for 
 reassurance sake: "It is only I Upjack. 
 Have you too been restless?" 
 
 "No," she answered me; "not restless at 
 all, but calmer than I have been since we 
 started from home, so calm that there's no 
 need for sleep. The wagon was so narrow 
 and cramped. I wanted to get away from 
 it, and from everything there, from wheels, 
 and implements, and bed-clothes, and every-
 
 All On a Summer Night 97 
 
 thing so pitifully human. Do you under 
 stand ? This immense night suits me better." 
 
 "Did you want to be alone?" I asked. 
 "Maybe I would better go back to my 
 blanket" 
 
 "No ; stay,"she said simply. She laid her 
 hand in the cradle of my arm, and we walked 
 slowly onward side by side, away from the 
 camp. She did not speak again for some 
 time, nor did I ; she appeared to be wholly 
 occupied with her enjoyment of the wide 
 peaceful night, so restful and beneficent. 
 And I found myself strangely at peace, too, 
 a new-born peace, though whether it came 
 of the gentle influences of the night, or grew 
 up wholly within my heart, I could not have 
 said surely. I was glad to be there, and glad 
 to have the light warm hand upon my arm. 
 The girl's face was indistinct in the star 
 light, but I could see that its expression was 
 wondrously softened, by so much as the star 
 light was softer than light of day. And while 
 I timed my steps to hers, I looked sometimes 
 at her, and sometimes far away toward the 
 vague line of the horizon. 
 
 "What a strange thing happened to-day," 
 she said by and by, speaking as though her
 
 98 Sons of Strength 
 
 thoughts had been dwelling upon the matter. 
 "Were they father and son?" 
 
 "Father and son," I answered. "It does 
 seem strange. It's like finding a lion sired 
 by a jackal. There was never greater con 
 trast between men. The boy has untamed 
 courage; I'm glad he's to be with us." 
 
 "I like such bravery," she said quietly, 
 "because it's a natural part of the man. True 
 bravery isn't at all artificial, is it?" 
 
 I had to think for a moment before I knew 
 that I agreed with her. "No," I said; "if 
 you mean the fighting instinct, it's certainly 
 born in the animal, with the rest of his her 
 itage of brutality." I was not speaking quite 
 as I had that day learned to think, but I 
 wished to hear what she would say. 
 
 "Of course," she said, "the mere unrea 
 soning instinct is valueless. Its fineness lies 
 in keeping a clear eye on the object." 
 
 "But the mere physical courage of the 
 fighting man isn't rational," I said per 
 versely. "The fighter does his thinking 
 afterwards." 
 
 She turned her face toward me, and her 
 fingers tightened somewhat upon my arm. 
 "That isn't true, is it?" she asked quietly.
 
 All On a Summer Night 99 
 
 I laughed a little shamefacedly; and I 
 was glad, too, that I had been found out. 
 "No," I owned; "it isn't altogether true. 
 But this is : Women always overvalue physi 
 cal courage in a man. They do it as natural 
 ly as men fight. Both together are relics of 
 the old days. The lioness stands by while the 
 lions tear each other, and then she mates with 
 the victor." 
 
 There was a little silence after that, while 
 once again I felt that I had failed to please 
 her with my speech. I was finding out that 
 I always failed to please her by just so much 
 as my speaking wandered from the candid 
 truth. She had a strange divination of the 
 truth, even as it lay in another's heart. 
 
 "Forgive me, girl," I said presently. "I 
 shall never speak so to you again. Now let 
 me be honest, just for my own credit. The 
 real bravery of the man lies in his keeping to 
 his manliness, no matter what the hazard. 
 He must make no concessions and no com 
 promises. He must go willingly where that 
 course leads him, whether it be through the 
 frost of disapproval, or through the fire of 
 battle. He must take what comes of such
 
 loo Sons of Strength 
 
 course, and look upon what comes as a bless 
 ing; for it will be a blessing. Now!" 
 
 And right glad I was to have done so well. 
 She drew nearer to my side, with her head 
 bent down, and both of her hands were laid 
 upon my arm, with a swift pressure ; then she 
 laughed softly, and her laugh carried a note 
 that thrilled me. I thought that her hand, as 
 I pressed it to my side, must feel my heart's 
 quicker beating. 
 
 "Now we understand one another," she 
 said. 
 
 "Upon that matter, at least," I answered. 
 
 "Nothing else signifies," she returned. 
 
 "We have said nothing of women," I 
 urged. 
 
 "Why need we? Do you set a different 
 standard for the woman ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I am sorry to hear you say so," she 
 breathed. "It must be a lower one; there is 
 no higher." 
 
 "No," I said strongly. "But it is very 
 different, as different as peace is from 
 strife. For strong strife and watchful care 
 are the price a man pays for his goodness, if 
 he gets it at all. He has to achieve it by
 
 All On a Summer Night 101 
 
 effort. But goodness is the woman's lawful 
 heritage. Why, girl! it's surely plain 
 enough ! Look at the face of a good man ; 
 it bears the hard marks of the terrible strug 
 gle of restraint. But the face of a good 
 woman is placid and serene." 
 
 We walked on, silent, thoughtful. I 
 burned to say more, but I dared not. It was 
 a trying thing to have come to an under 
 standing with this girl; it tried me in more 
 ways than one, though I rejoiced in the trial. 
 For I have ever been one of those whose 
 thoughts are slow to waken, and slow to 
 move, lying still and sleeping under the 
 fret of light circumstances, but moving at 
 last with a firmness, right or wrong, that is 
 hard to be subdued. And all at once I found 
 them awakened and aroused to such pitch of 
 vigour that I must keep firm hold upon 
 them. I feared to say all that I thought, 
 though I thought nothing unworthy. No 
 man will understand this, unless his mind be 
 of the slow and ponderous type, like my 
 own. 
 
 After a while Elizabeth paused and turned 
 back toward the camp. "We forget to-mor 
 row," she said. "We shall have to be careful
 
 IO2 Sons of Strength 
 
 of our strength, until we have come to the 
 end of our journey. We must go back now 
 and sleep ; we must at least rest." 
 
 We said nothing as we walked toward the 
 glowing speck of the campfire. When we 
 were within the circle of the firelight, she 
 gave me her hand. "Good night," she said, 
 and her beautiful eyes were lifted to mine. 
 I held her hand for only an instant, while I 
 looked at her, for only an instant, yet in 
 that brief time I saw how generous and sweet 
 a gift life might be, if its ways were lit by 
 eyes like those, so true and pure. Yes, more 
 than that ; I saw that I was suddenly uplifted 
 by a passionate desire to have the ways of my 
 own life so illumined. I knew surely, surely, 
 that my heart was no longer but a still pool, 
 unstirred from within ; it was a living foun 
 tain, with love welling in its depths. And 
 as I knew that, I bent my head and touched 
 the girl's hand with my lips, and then I closed 
 my own hand upon it, so that she had to let 
 me keep it for a moment longer, though she 
 tried to take it from me, her cheeks glowing 
 rosy-red in the dull light. 
 
 "Girl, girl !" I said, struggling to possess 
 myself; "we understand one another some-
 
 All On a Summer Night 103 
 
 what, but not perfectly. Sometime " But 
 I saw then that I gave her distress; and so, 
 though I could not hold my tongue in check, 
 now that it was set a-going. I did the only 
 other thing I could, I loosed her hand from 
 mine, and turned away to my bed upon the 
 ground beyond the fire. 
 
 McCulloch's place was beside mine, and as 
 I made ready to lie down, I saw that he was 
 awake and looking at me, his broad face 
 smiling. "You're a sly pair!" he said. 
 "Midnight, and starlight, and all that sort of 
 thing ! Oh, you'll do ! You can go up head 
 of the class!" But I put out my hand and 
 laid it upon his lips. I was not in the mood 
 for his light raillery. He seemed to under 
 stand, for he grasped my hand quickly with 
 his strong fingers and gave it a sympathetic 
 pressure. 
 
 "I didn't mean nothin'," he said seriously. 
 "I'm glad ; sure I am. A man like you al 
 ways treats a woman right." He turned 
 away, drawing his blanket over him, and I 
 soon thought him asleep ; but he was not. 
 
 "I'd like to love a nice girl," he said in that 
 frank direct manner of his. "It must do a 
 man good,, don't it?"
 
 1 04 Sons of Strength 
 
 I laughed a little foolishly ; but his boyish 
 innocence inspired confidence, and I an 
 swered without embarrassment : "I think so, 
 surely. I'm a better man than I was an hour 
 ago." 
 
 "An hour ago !" he repeated. "You don't 
 mean it's only an hour?" 
 
 "Yes; less than that," I said. "You saw 
 more than there was to see McCulloch. 
 There's nothing between us as yet; but I 
 hope sometime " And there again I had 
 to stop. He sat erect, resting his elbows 
 upon his knees, his chin upon his hands, 
 while his unclouded eyes studied the fire and 
 the dim landscape that lay beyond. 
 
 "I hope so," he said soberly. "Anyway, 
 you'll be likely to remember your first night 
 in Kansas, won't you? I'd be glad now to 
 find that she's some of my kin. Maybe I'll be 
 callin' you Cousin Pokey one of these days ; 
 how'd you like that?" But like most of his 
 questions, that did not require any answer; 
 at least he did not seem to expect one, for he 
 made himself comfortable upon his rude 
 couch and was soon breathing deeply, as be 
 came a tired man. 
 
 He slept soundly enough for two; which
 
 All On a Summer Night 105 
 
 was well, for I could not sleep at all, but had 
 to lie with wide eyes staring up at the night 
 sky, taking no account of the passing of the 
 hours until the stars began to sink far into a 
 vast ocean of pearl-gray ; and this was turned 
 to azure, and then to rose-pink. Here and 
 there, away out upon the prairie, there 
 sounded a sleepy bird-note, faint and weak 
 at first, then swelling sweet and clear, and 
 multiplied by many, until the wide stretch of 
 hill and vale was alive, echoing and resound 
 ing with the riotous symphonic overture to 
 day. It was a beautiful day-dawn ; the most 
 beautiful I have ever seen, and the sweetest 
 and the fullest of all goodness; for so do 
 things appear to a man when love has 
 touched his eyes with its soft finger-tips. I 
 was a happy man, though my happiness had 
 no surer foundation than doubt and uncer 
 tainty of the outcome. But though I had not 
 yet much clear hope, I hoped sometime to 
 have it ; and in the meantime doubt was very 
 sweet and worthy of being cherished.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 WHEN the glory of the morning had 
 taken full possession of earth and sky, I arose 
 and busied myself with the camp-fire, and 
 with the beginnings of breakfast. McCul- 
 loch soon followed me. When he stood 
 before me, he laid his great hands upon my 
 shoulders, looking at me as though I was a 
 child who had done something worthy, for 
 which he wished to praise me. 
 
 "It's all right, Pokey," he said. "I like 
 you first rate. You an' me'll have to be 
 pardners, I reckon, if we can make a deal. 
 I'd kind o' like to keep my eye on you, 
 an' see how things go. I ain't no slouch to 
 work. You just keep thinkin' about it a 
 little." He did not wait for an answer then, 
 but set about doing his share of the work, 
 bringing in wood, carrying water from the 
 near-by creek, and caring for the horses. 
 But although I made a good beginning at 
 thinking of his plan, I made no end of it;
 
 The Shadow of a Great Rock 1 07 
 
 for thought of him soon faded away, and 
 thought of my love took its place. Nor do 
 I blame myself now, when thinking back 
 upon that time ; for it seems to be a part of 
 God's plan for us that we shall set greater 
 store by love than by any other of life's ne 
 cessities. Surely I was not very practical- 
 minded upon that morning, for I suffered 
 the fire to sink low, and made poor headway 
 with cooking the breakfast, until the women 
 came from their wagon to help. 
 
 But by and by we ate our simple meal, 
 doing it hurriedly ; for we were now come to 
 the time when we must forego too close 
 friendship with the past and ally ourselves 
 with the future. Kansas was at hand; we 
 must make up our minds what we were to 
 do. And in that matter, we were very will 
 ing to listen to McCulloch's ingenuous coun 
 sel. 
 
 "I don't like to load advice on to you," 
 he said in a modest deprecation of our trust ; 
 "but mebbe I can tell you a few things you 
 don't know about the territory an' the folks 
 that's in it. It's mostly along the river that 
 the Pro Slaves has made the most trouble for 
 the Free State men, of course so, with Mis-
 
 1 08 Sons of Strength 
 
 souri just across the river. If you folks want 
 fightin' an' excitement, you better stay right 
 around here. If you want to settle down 
 and be quiet, this ain't no place for you. 
 This is the way the Blue Lodge fellows 
 have fixed it: There ain't a great sight 
 of 'em livin' in Kansas, but they're right 
 handy, don't you see? so they can come 
 across when there's anything to be looked 
 after. Every town an' every county along the 
 river is Pro Slave, whenever the Blue Lodge 
 chaps take a notion to come over an' run 
 things. Now that's the truth." He was 
 speaking with much earnestness, and so 
 simply that we could not doubt his good in 
 tention. To me at least as he proceeded, his 
 speech was like a blazing torch, given us to 
 light our uncertain way. "I'll tell you what 
 I've been thinkin' over night. I think you 
 better go down on the Wakarusa: know 
 where that is? It's a good country, an' 
 there's where most of the Free State folks 
 from the east have gone, the first Boston 
 colony, an' a lot more. There's good com 
 pany out there, an' good land, too. I've 
 been down there and looked it over. There's 
 where I'd go, if it was me doin' it. There's
 
 The Shadow of a Great Rock 1 09 
 
 a first-rate good town been laid out down 
 on the Wakarusa river, the first town in 
 the territory. I reckon you've heard about 
 Lawrence, haven't you? named after some 
 Boston chap that helped it along. The 
 folks down there know what they've 
 come for, an' that's a good beginning, ain't 
 it? The man that knows what he wants is 
 more apt to get it than him that ain't made 
 up his mind yet. That's the way I figure 
 it out." 
 
 There was so much of homely common 
 sense in what he said that we were not long 
 in deciding to trust to his judgment 
 wholly; for, although he was so plainly un 
 schooled and untrained save in those ele 
 mental instincts which are the rightful pos 
 session of Nature's out-door sons, we felt 
 safer in confiding ourselves to the guidance 
 of such instincts than in relying upon our 
 own ability to reason the matter out logically. 
 One of the chiefest blessings of pioneer 
 ing lies in the fact that it brings men into 
 first relations with nature, and teaches them 
 to trust to their instincts. As a rule, we are 
 too skeptical of our instincts, when we have 
 gotten a little of what we call wisdom.
 
 no Sons of Strength 
 
 "We'd better keep off the main trails," 
 McCulloch said when we were getting ready 
 to move. "We ain't out of reach of Dad's 
 company yet, an' we don't want them to 
 clean us up the first day, do we ? You take 
 my way an' if they don't catch up with us 
 to-day, we'll be safe enough after that." He 
 seemed a little ill at ease while he gave this 
 advice, as though he did not quite relish its 
 flavour in his mouth. While he and I were 
 putting our horses into harness, he spoke 
 apologetically : 
 
 "You don't think I'm a coward, do you, 
 Pokey, runnin' away from Dad? I'll tell 
 you the truth: I don't want to meet him 
 over here in Kansas. Sure as we get to 
 gether, something's bound to happen that'll 
 make Mam feel bad; that's all I'm thinkin' 
 about. It's bound to come some time, sure, 
 unless one of us drops off beforehand. I 
 know Dad. He won't be able to sleep good 
 until he's wiped out yesterday's score. On 
 Mam's account, I'd like to put off the reck 
 oning as long as I can, so's to give somebody 
 else a chance to get him before I do. Be 
 cause, Pokey " He paused in his work of 
 buckling the harness and stood confronting
 
 The Shadow of a Great Rock 1 1 1 
 
 me, his clenched hands uplifted, his boyish 
 face putting on the guise of hard inevitable 
 vengeance, blazing with passion. "Listen 
 here! Just so sure as me an' him runs 
 across each other, there ain't goin' to be room 
 enough for both of us. I hate him ! Lord 
 God, how I hate him!" Then in another 
 moment his face was ashy-gray when the 
 fire of passion had died out. "But it'll be 
 hard on Mam, won't it? Dear little old 
 Mammy ! Just for her sake, I wish I could 
 help myself. But I can't. So I'm going to 
 do the next best thing, an' shoot quick." 
 
 I had never known a man like him. 
 While he voiced his brutal threat with so 
 much of uncontrolled and uncontrollable 
 fierce anger, I own that I was afraid of him 
 and of what might come of his being with 
 us; but it was a fear which did not outlive 
 the next swift change in his mood, a re 
 turn to his usual broad-smiling good nature. 
 
 "Which would look best in wings, Pokey, 
 me or Dad ? It would take a big pair to 
 hold me up, wouldn't it? I know I'll be 
 scared to try my first flop, unless I get a 
 chance to go off somewheres an' take a few
 
 H2 Sons of Strength 
 
 lessons from some old angel that knows 
 how." 
 
 In our little company, all our rules of 
 action were impromptu, more impulses 
 than rules. We had full confidence in one 
 another, and mutual confidence is always 
 better than rule of law. It is when the 
 members of a society lose trust in one 
 another that they begin to make hard and 
 fast codes of law to take the place of trust 
 fulness, a poor exchange. We had no 
 formal ways. I had neglected even the 
 primary matter of making McCulloch ac 
 quainted with Elizabeth Archibald; but it 
 was an omission which did not impede ac 
 quaintance, after all. When everything 
 was in readiness for beginning the day's 
 journey, and we were mounting to our places 
 in the wagons, McCulloch went to the girl's 
 side. 
 
 "I've been looking at you," I heard him 
 say with his honest impetuosity. "I want 
 to find out something. Pokey, over there, 
 says you're an Ohio Archibald. So's my 
 Mammy. Can I walk with you a little 
 ways ?" 
 
 She gave ready assent. It was not easy
 
 The Shadow of a Great Rock 113 
 
 to offer resistance to his simplicity. In the 
 fresh clear morning, walking was a luxury 
 and not a labour. They were both in the 
 humour for making the most of it, and soon 
 left our slow-moving wagons behind. As 
 usual, my wagon was in the lead of the train, 
 and as I drove onward I found a dear delight 
 in following them with my eyes while they 
 walked, McCulloch moving, despite his 
 size and heaviness, with the step of some 
 wild animal, free of the weight of self con 
 sciousness; Elizabeth, with her lithe grace, 
 keeping well at his side. I did not hear what 
 they said ; but I knew that the girl was well 
 pleased, for I heard her gentle laugh welling 
 up freely more than once, as though there 
 was nothing to hold it back. I knew from 
 my own experience that she did not laugh in 
 that manner for one who had displeased her. 
 McCulloch was very gallant; but perhaps 
 I wrong him in saying so, for his manner 
 was nothing more than the unstudied bear 
 ing of a natural gentleman. Now and 
 again he left the beaten trail to gather a 
 bunch of brilliant prairie blossoms, until each 
 carried an armload of the wild colours. But 
 by degrees he grew less active, and contented
 
 114 Sons of Strength 
 
 himself with marching slowly along by the 
 girl's side. Their walk grew so slow that 
 the wagons overtook them ; then McCulloch 
 helped his companion to mount to her place, 
 and when that was done he climbed to his 
 own seat at my side. He was not talkative, 
 nor did his face show its accustomed lively 
 aspect. He lounged forward, his arms 
 crossed upon his knees, paying no heed to 
 me until I thought it well to ask what 
 he had discovered. He aroused himself 
 with an effort, as though his thoughts had to 
 travel far in coming back to me. 
 
 "Eh?" he asked. "Oh! The relation 
 ship, you mean ? Dogged if I know 
 rightly. I ain't figured it out yet. Niece 
 of somebody's second wife's sister's aunt ; 
 can you sense those durned things? She's 
 kin, all right, but I don't know just exactly 
 how it is. You see, I reckon I forgot what 
 we were talkin' about, before we got it 
 straightened out. I'm always a good deal 
 apt to do that. All I know is, she's some 
 kind of kin to me." Then came silence 
 again, overcast with that same far-off 
 thoughtfulness. At last he sat erect, stretch-
 
 The Shadow of a Great Rock 115 
 
 ing his arms aloft and shaking his head as 
 though to cast off a spell of drowsiness. 
 
 "Say, young fellow," he said with a broad 
 candour ; "I'm glad you got to know her be 
 fore I did. That's honest true. It's saved 
 me a heap of trouble, an' I know it." He 
 threw his big arm around me and made me 
 sit a little nearer to him. "There's no use 
 fightin' against it, Mr. Pokey; you an' me'll 
 have to stand by each other. I'm lots 
 fonder of you than I was before I'd talked 
 with your sweetheart, and found out what 
 she's like. I'd like to be pardners with a 
 man that's got sense enough to pick out that 
 kind of a woman." He thrust his hand into 
 the breast of his shirt and drew forth a small 
 packet, wrapped in brown paper and tied 
 securely with a bit of string. "That's 
 money," he said. "It belongs to me, too. 
 I ain't goin' to be a beggar : I can pay half, 
 if you're willin' to take me." But there was 
 no need for him to show his money ; he had 
 a better capital than that, and one more to 
 my liking, though to be sure we were likely 
 to need money in our new home. We were 
 put to no trouble in settling the terms of our 
 alliance, for we were both honest, and we
 
 1 1 6 Sons of Strength 
 
 liked one another. When our understand 
 ing had been made perfect, McCulloch 
 breathed a deep sigh of relief and satisfac 
 tion. 
 
 "I hope you ain't goin' to be sorry, 
 Pokey," he said. "You won't be, neither, 
 if muscle counts for anything ; an' I reckon 
 it will, when it comes to breakin' prairie. 
 I'm an old hand at the business." He 
 passed his hands caressingly over the muscles 
 of his great limbs and swelled out his chest 
 as though to show me what I could rely 
 upon in him. "I ain't able to do much with 
 my head, pardner,when it comes to thinkin' ; 
 but I know a few things about Kansas, an' 
 about Missouri, too. Unless I'm fooled, 
 Missouri's goin' to make us more trouble 
 than Kansas is. But say!" he burst out 
 after a moment ; "I ain't sure that I'm doin' 
 just right by you, either. There's Dad. 
 I've got no business makin' you run that 
 risk with me. I guess I better keep off to 
 myself until after that business is settled; 
 don't you?" 
 
 "No," I answered very willingly. "If 
 we're partners at all, we're partners in every-
 
 The Shadow of a Great Rock 117 
 
 thing that befalls us. We'll stand by each 
 other, McCulloch." 
 
 He laughed delightedly, and hugged me 
 again in that giant's embrace. "Good!" he 
 cried. "I hoped you'd say that! Now I 
 feel all right." 
 
 After two days' travel, as rapid as we 
 could make it, considering our horses' good, 
 we came to that brave-hearted little town 
 that was for so many as the shadow of a 
 great rock in a weary land. Lawrence ! No 
 Kansas pioneer is disturbed by any doubt as 
 to what's in a name. Truly that was a name 
 to conjure with, a name to be loved, a name 
 worthy of a man's best thought and warmest 
 heart's blood. 
 
 When we first came within sight of the 
 place, on a morning in late September, our 
 hearts were stirred to their depths ; for there 
 the love of liberty had made for itself an 
 abiding place in a new wilderness. It was 
 a beautiful spot, sheltered by low hills, with 
 its two rivers near at hand. But little more 
 than a year before our coming, the first hardy 
 immigrants had pitched their tents there, 
 very few, but growing in numbers with 
 the passing of the weeks, until there was a
 
 1 1 8 Sons of Strength 
 
 goodly number of them showing fair and 
 white in the clear sunlight. When we arrived, 
 the tents were in a minority among the places 
 of abode; there were other dwellings, to 
 give promise of permanence, rude struct 
 ures of poles, thatched with wild grass, and 
 some buildings of logs; not very beautiful, 
 save as the mind might draw thoughts of 
 beauty from the spirit which hovered over. 
 Already the makers of this little city had 
 learned that they would not be suffered to dwell 
 there in peace, and here and there about the 
 borders of the town there were primitive 
 earth-works for defense, grim assurance 
 that those intrepid souls meant to fight their 
 way to peace at last. When we knew that 
 we were at last entering upon the stage 
 where we were to play our part with kindred 
 souls, all our past weary doubt and suspense 
 faded away before the dawn of live resolu 
 tion, and we drove forward eagerly.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 We were received in the town without 
 idle enthusiasm; there was no time nor in 
 clination for any sentimental waste of 
 energy; but we were made to feel at home, 
 and were given a place where we might pitch 
 our temporary camp. We had talked of our 
 plans quite freely. Some of our party had 
 determined that they would remain in 
 Lawrence; but the Ohio folks, and Mc- 
 Culloch and I were going beyond, into the 
 rich farming lands that lay a little to the 
 westward. 
 
 We were all worn and weary after our 
 long journey. The day of our arrival in 
 Lawrence was Saturday, and those of us 
 who were not yet at our road's-end decided 
 that we should rest ourselves in the town 
 over the Sabbath and take up our way again 
 on Monday. Since leaving Illinois we had 
 been altogether deprived of any regular 
 rest days, by whatever name they might be
 
 1 20 Sons of Strength 
 
 called; it was good to find ourselves in 'a 
 friendly settlement, ruled by the New Eng 
 land conscience, where we were likely to be 
 justified by our surroundings in spending 
 one day in release from labour and weariness. 
 And it was to be a notable Sabbath for me, 
 though I did not suspect it beforehand. I 
 know not how it may be with others ; but all 
 of the most notable things of my life have 
 come to me without power of forecast or 
 forethought. It is only the trivial matters 
 of no consequence that have fallen out ac 
 cording to my own prearrangement. 
 
 I had begged of Elizabeth on Saturday 
 evening that she would go with me to 
 church on the Sabbath. I did not know 
 what there might be in a sermon of prairie 
 growth, but I wanted to be privileged to sit 
 by her side through a quiet hour, when I 
 should have nothing to do save to turn my 
 eyes to her face once in a while, and think of 
 her. I knew that I should profit by that. 
 And so I was well pleased when I found 
 that there was to be an out-door service in 
 the morning; and when the time came, and 
 we walked together toward the place ap-
 
 An Old Friend 12! 
 
 pointed for the preaching, I was a happy 
 man. 
 
 I do not remember whether there were 
 any churches built at that time among the 
 substantial structures of logs. I had found 
 something better than a roofed church build 
 ing, however pretentious it might be. 
 Within the past week there had come to 
 Lawrence a missionary from the east, an 
 advance agent of some denominationalism, 
 who had made his home in a tent until he 
 could find a fitter abiding place. His tent 
 was in the midst of a group of trees, and he 
 had promised that he would preach to those 
 who cared to come and sit upon the grass 
 before his tent door. The thought of such 
 a thing was very grateful to me, for my re 
 ligion has always been of the sort that seems 
 to thrive best out of doors. I was not sure 
 but that this might prove to be like that old 
 sermon preached to the multitude upon the 
 hillside. 
 
 Never was there a more beautiful 
 sanctuary than that, with its vaulted sky- 
 roof, frescoed by the graceful branches of 
 the elms whose stately trunks were the pillars 
 of the long wide aisles. Only to sit upon the
 
 122 Sons of Strength 
 
 grass, with that wild free beauty all around 
 us, and listen to the mighty anthem of sum 
 mer sounds, was enough to put us in wor 
 shipful mood. I thought that he must be 
 a poor preacher who failed to preach well 
 there. 
 
 Elizabeth and I seated ourselves with our 
 backs resting against the column of a tree- 
 trunk near the little tent. The tent-curtains 
 were folded back, so that we could see all 
 that was within; a few homely utensils of 
 housekeeping, a trunk and a low cot covered 
 with gray blankets. By the side of the cot, 
 his back turned toward us, the missionary 
 knelt praying. He made much show of 
 being in earnest about it, for he held his 
 clasped hands before him, raising them some 
 times above his head and moving his body 
 back and forth, as though he wrestled with 
 an angel unseen by our eyes. I did not like 
 that very well. I even felt a little ashamed 
 for him, and wished that he had kept the 
 curtains closed while he prayed; though 
 there was no great harm in his way, if it 
 pleased him. 
 
 He remained kneeling for quite a long 
 time; but at last he appeared to have found
 
 An Old Friend 123 
 
 what he sought, for his movements grew 
 quieter by degrees, and his praying came to 
 an end. He got up then, dusting the knees 
 of his black trousers; which made me 
 smile, in spite of myself ; it was so sharp and 
 sudden a descent, from the sublime heights 
 of prayer to the low level of care for a matter 
 of his toilet. He picked up his Bible, and 
 walked to the door of his tent, where he 
 stood facing us, letting his eyes glance over 
 us as though trying to make up his mind as 
 to what we were and how he should match 
 himself to us. And while I looked at him 
 a little curiously, trying to find in him some 
 appearances which would justify me in liking 
 him, I felt a strange tremor of weakness 
 come over me, though I sat erect, with every 
 muscle and nerve drawn straight and hard. 
 Surely I knew that man ! Where had I seen 
 him, and who might he be? He was tall 
 and well made, though he had none of the 
 appearance of strength that follows upon 
 hard work ; his was more the likeness of one 
 whose habit it was to take care of himself, 
 avoiding wear and tear. His hands were 
 like his body, supple and well-modeled, but 
 not toil-marked. His head was well formed
 
 1 24 Sons of Strength 
 
 and confidently poised, his forehead broad 
 and unwrinkled. His face was clear and of 
 good features, but it bore no marks of hard 
 thought; there was even a little dimple 
 showing upon either smooth cheek. His 
 whole bearing gave assurance that he got 
 along very well in the encounter with life. 
 But all that did not aid me much in resolving 
 my doubt about him, though it all seemed 
 strangely familiar. To look at him was like 
 trying to remember a familiar but forgotten 
 word, a tantalizing trial. But in a mo 
 ment he gave me help ; for as his eyes glanced 
 from one face to another in the assemblage, 
 at last they rested upon mine. They were 
 large brown eyes, solemnly wide open. I 
 knew him then ; he was Blinky Meade ! 
 
 When I knew that to be true beyond a 
 doubt, I could hardly contain myself; I 
 wanted to call out to him, or shout aloud in 
 my joy. I thought myself blessed in seeing 
 his face in that place, and all of my old-time 
 doubt about him seemed ridiculous and 
 wrong. I know that I must have shown my 
 strong feeling of pleasure, for as he looked 
 down into my face a frown gathered upon 
 his own as though in reproof of my apparent
 
 An Old Friend 125 
 
 levity. I could see that he did not know me ; 
 but I knew him! and I was rejoiced to find 
 him there. I could hardly compel myself 
 to be quiet and to wait until by and by, when 
 I could go to him. I was so full of this 
 thought that I gave no heed to the beginning 
 of the simple service ; not until he began his 
 sermon did I get back to a realization of the 
 present surroundings. 
 
 When he began to speak, it seemed to me 
 that I had gone back through the long lapse 
 of years and was sitting with him once more 
 under the maples in the asylum yard, while 
 he entranced me as of old with his magic 
 tongue. He had still the old manner ; no 
 doubt it had become a hard and fast habit 
 after so long a time for practice; perhaps 
 his visions were real to him ; even as a child 
 he had seemed to think them real. Some 
 men are so, and perhaps I wrong him in 
 speaking slightingly of his wonder-tales, 
 after all. As he stood there before us and 
 talked to us, it was not with sober counsel to 
 give us strength for the trials near at hand ; 
 he spoke of unsubstantial things, as though 
 he had his family of angels standing around 
 him, telling him dream-stories which might
 
 126 Sons of Strength 
 
 not be heard by our grosser ears, but which 
 he was interpreting for us. Nor was that 
 all : I found by and by that his family had 
 grown somewhat larger, and that there were 
 a few evil imps added to it, hiding in the 
 dark places of his sermon, waiting to pop out 
 their heads and frighten us. I do not believe 
 that they were there by his own choice; he 
 did not seem to love them as he loved the 
 fairer creatures of his fancy ; he treated them 
 as though they were unwelcome, but must 
 be given a courteous consideration notwith 
 standing, having been begotten by his theo 
 logical training, and being a part of his pro 
 fessional armament. It was a strange ser 
 mon, as strange as his old self, and as 
 full of impracticable unwisdom, but clothed 
 in such splendour that one was apt to forget 
 all else while looking on at the brilliant 
 spectacle. But I could not avoid measur 
 ing what he said by the standard of 
 our trying time and surroundings ; and when 
 I did that, he seemed to be still a child in 
 thought, amusing himself with a childish 
 game of "make-believe." I feared that if 
 I looked too closely at his beautiful imagery, 
 I should see that it was but a phantasm ; and
 
 An Old Friend 127 
 
 so I settled back upon my own thoughts, 
 while I waited for him to finish, when I could 
 grasp his hand and find that he at least was 
 not an illusion, but of warm flesh and blood. 
 
 At last he had finished, and the people 
 loitered around beneath the trees, talking 
 together, many crowding about the young 
 orator, praising him after a fashion that 
 brought a flush of pleasure to his cheeks. I 
 could not wait for them to leave him ; I, too 
 pushed forward and held out my hand to 
 him 
 
 "Blinky!" I cried; "Blinky! don't you 
 know me?" 
 
 I had hoped to see him pleased by being 
 remembered, and by hearing once again the 
 syllables of his boyish name ; but he was not. 
 The flush that praise had kindled upon his 
 face died away suddenly, leaving him very 
 pale, and his brown eyes shone with quick 
 resentment, while his hand grew limp in 
 mine. 
 
 "I do not know you, sir," he said coldly. I 
 was too eager to reflect that he might not 
 wish to know me, or that he might want to 
 leave the old times behind him ; I was anx 
 ious only to make him remember me.
 
 128 Sons of Strength 
 
 "Why, Blinky!" I said warmly; "don't 
 you remember Pokey Up jack? Surely you 
 havn't forgotten the days " But he put a 
 stop to my impetuous speech by linking his 
 arm firmly in mine and dragging me forcibly 
 with him into his tent. He pushed me into 
 a seat; then drew the tent-curtains close, 
 so that no curious eyes might spy upon us. 
 He did not sit down, but stood before me, 
 his lips set ; then he paced back and forth for 
 a few moments, seeming nervous. Soon 
 he paused and stood close to me, looking 
 down into my face. 
 
 "That was a long time ago," he said, 
 speaking in such low tone as to make it im 
 possible for those outside to hear. "Since 
 that time there have been great changes. I 
 am the Reverend Arthur Brooks." He 
 dropped his eyes as he said this, becoming 
 intent upon crushing a small pebble into the 
 earth with the toe of his polished shoe. 
 
 "Brooks!" I echoed, wondering. "Why 
 Brooks, Blinky?" 
 
 "Brooks, by adoption," he answered ; "and 
 by choice also. I did not wish the old name 
 to cling to me, or to rise against me in my 
 new life."
 
 An Old Friend 129 
 
 "Had you dishonoured it then?" I could 
 not avoid asking ; nor could I avoid having a 
 little of scorn in my question. He glanced 
 quickly at me before he answered. 
 
 "No," he said. 
 
 "You are only Blinky Meade to me," I 
 said, "and I am still Pokey Upjack. I hope 
 we shall never be anything else to one 
 another than we were in those old days, boy." 
 But he lifted his white hand with a gesture 
 of impatient remonstrance. 
 
 "Hush!" he commanded harshly. "Do 
 you want them to hear you ?" 
 
 I felt the grateful warmth of enthusiasm 
 dying down within me. I had to struggle 
 with myself to speak calmly. 
 
 "Do you mean that you have grown 
 ashamed of that time?" 
 
 He did not answer at once, but resumed 
 his nervous walk, while he formed his next 
 speech. "See here!" he said at last; "can 
 you understand this? I have made a place 
 for myself in the world. I am at the begin 
 ning of an honourable career. It hasn't been 
 easy ; I have had to fight against my past, as 
 well as against the difficulties of the under 
 taking itself. But I have won, and I have
 
 130 Sons of Strength 
 
 no one to thank for it but myself. People 
 are beginning to recognize my gifts, as I 
 have meant that they should. And now " 
 
 "Well?" I asked as he hesitated. 
 
 "Well!" he flashed in return. "I have 
 struggled to forget that I was ever a despised 
 asylum brat and outcast. I had almost suc 
 ceeded. My present honours are independent 
 of the past. I don't wish to be reminded of 
 the past. I hate it. If you persist in 
 recognizing me, I hope you will respect my 
 wish and call me by the new name, and not 
 the old. Do you understand now ?" 
 
 I hope that there may be few who can 
 appreciate the bitterness of that moment. It 
 is a sad thing for a man to find the spirit 
 of manhood so dishonoured and the truth 
 disowned by one whom he has trusted to up 
 hold both. I hardly dared trust myself to 
 speak after that; but speech was forced out 
 of me at last. 
 
 "If I recognize you at all, it will be as 
 Blinky Meade. You must understand that." 
 He knotted his slender fingers together, and 
 I saw that he was trembling with anger as he 
 glared down upon me. 
 
 "Listen !" he said by and by. "What are
 
 An Old Friend 1 3 1 
 
 you going to gain by that? You can gain 
 nothing, nothing from me. I have won 
 position, but nothing else as yet. I am still 
 a poor man " 
 
 I sprang to my feet thrusting my hands 
 into my pockets and clenching them there, 
 so that I might not raise them against him. 
 I did not speak to him again, but pushed by 
 him and passed out of his tent and into the 
 free air. 
 
 I had not spoken to Elizabeth of Blinky. 
 She had no doubt seen what had passed out 
 side the tent, and when I rejoined her and 
 walked with her from the grounds, her clear 
 eyes asked questions of me; but they were 
 questions which I could not answer. But as 
 I looked into her sweet true face, I found 
 that my wound was not mortal, after all, 
 though it was grievously painful. I took 
 her hand and drew it through my arm. 
 When I felt its gentle pressure, I was even 
 able to laugh a little, though it was a laugh 
 which might better have been left out. 
 
 "Elizabeth!" I said, calling her by her 
 name for the first time. "Dear girl ! Noth 
 ing must ever come between us. We must
 
 132 Sons of Strength 
 
 wear no masks for one another. Masks have 
 no place in such friendship as ours." 
 
 Again she turned her eyes to mine; and 
 in a moment, so potent was their spell, all 
 bitterness faded out of my heart, and it was 
 possessed by a strong deep peace.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOME MAKING 
 
 WE WERE not disposed to dally upon our 
 way. I wished with all my heart that we 
 had not stopped in the town; but that was 
 beyond remedy now, and I tried to forget 
 what had happened, forcing myself to work 
 with vigour in getting ready for our home- 
 building upon the prairies. 
 
 Of those who were going onward, all had 
 been used to farming, save Elizabeth. She 
 chose to go with us, however, until she had 
 learned more about Kansas, and about what 
 she had to expect. We were all able to adapt 
 ourselves to whatever might seem to be for 
 the best, caring but little what it was, if it 
 gave promise of good. 
 
 When we were out of the town, I was 
 glad to have McCulloch talk to me, in that 
 honestly irresponsible fashion of his. His 
 counsels were divided between vagary and 
 common sense, so that in listening I had to
 
 1 34 Sons of Strength 
 
 keep my wits awake, not to miss the good 
 of what he said. 
 
 "We'll stay by the river," was a part of 
 his argument. "We mustn't get far from 
 water; nor we don't want to get too far 
 away from this town, neither. It's a good 
 thing to be near your friends when you need 
 'em, or when they need you? Unless I'm 
 mistaken, there'sgoin' to be a heap of fightin' 
 around here. It's a good scheme to keep 
 pretty close together. The folks over in 
 Missouri don't like this town. They've said 
 they're goin' to wipe it out. I don't believe 
 they will, but they'll worry us a good bit, be 
 fore we're done with 'em. They're born 
 cowards, like my Dad. You could tell he 
 was a coward, couldn't you? Nobody but 
 a coward would hit a little nigger idiot with 
 a rawhide. The rest of 'em are pretty much 
 like him. They have to do their fightin' in 
 bunches, like wolves. Get one of 'em by 
 himself, an' he's meek as a lamb. If this 
 town puts on a good front, and won't take 
 no back-talk, it'll come out all right. It 
 don't do to let a coward see you're afraid of 
 him; that's liable to make him act mean." 
 
 Despite his lapses into childishness, I felt
 
 Home Making 135 
 
 quite safe in relying upon him in selecting 
 a site for our home. This he picked upon 
 when we were but little more than a day's 
 journey from the town; and it was a selec 
 tion which had the approval of all of us. The 
 place where he had advised the erection of 
 our buildings was a wooded knoll close to 
 the river, where all the materials for build 
 ing were at hand, and where in an emer 
 gency we should have protection against 
 being surprised by enemies ; while the lands 
 that we were to cultivate were of the best, 
 free of timber, and lying smooth and open 
 to the sun, so that we should be put to no 
 needless labour of clearing. 
 
 The season was still warm, but we knew 
 that we should have no time to spare in pre 
 paring for winter. We went to work with 
 willing hands. Here again McCulloch's 
 counsels prevailed. 
 
 "We've got to build right. There's only 
 one right way. We have to build as if we 
 expected to stay. The best way to keep 
 from being drove off is to fix so you can de 
 fend yourself. Poles and grass are all right 
 for weather, but they won't keep off a
 
 136 Sons of Strength 
 
 Missouri Blue Lodge. Logs is the thing; 
 I'll show you." 
 
 We were very busy and very happy for 
 many days thereafter, McCulloch the busi 
 est and happiest of all. Although he would 
 take no credit to himself, we must have fared 
 poorly without him. He was tireless with 
 axe and saw. . In one minute I would think 
 that his greatest genius lay in his broad back 
 and mighty limbs; in the next minute he 
 would surprise me with some well-planned 
 device which showed genius to lurk within 
 his round head also. 
 
 When our clearings were made upon the 
 top of the low hill, we selected strong sound 
 logs, trimming them into shape and match 
 ing them as well as we were able. Then we 
 dug trenches in the form of the outer walls 
 of our buildings, paving the bottoms of the 
 trenches with broad flat stones from the 
 river-bed, until we had a secure foundation. 
 Then our logs were set upon end in the 
 trenches, in two rows, the inner row cover 
 ing the chinks of the outer, and after that the 
 earth was filled into the trenches, and packed 
 down tightly. When the walls had been 
 plentifully mud-plastered, they were safe
 
 Home Making 137 
 
 and secure, proof against any weather, and 
 better still, no doubt, proof against bullets, 
 if such should chance to come our way. 
 Though we were justifiably proud of our 
 work, there was no time for any show of 
 pride. From lighter and slender logs we 
 fashioned the roofs of our buildings. The 
 roofs were also plastered with mud, mixed 
 with twigs and grasses for strength's sake, 
 and over all was placed a thatching of the 
 rank grass stems, woven firmly together, 
 making a roof that would stand storms or 
 fire. Nor was that all : 
 
 "If there's goin' to be any shootin' done, 
 we want to have a hand in it, don't we?" 
 McCulloch suggested. "We've got to fix 
 for that, pardners." And so we cut small 
 gun-ways through the thick walls, not large 
 enough to be dangerous for those within, 
 but allowing us to use our own weapons to 
 ward all points of the compass. When this 
 work was finished, it was doubtful whether 
 our buildings were better adapted to be 
 abodes of peace or hatcheries of war. I was 
 a little inclined to laugh at their formidable 
 aspect, but McCulloch was not abashed. 
 
 "Laugh, of course, if it tickles you," he
 
 138 Sons of Strength 
 
 said in his broad good-nature. "I'll do my 
 laughing by and by, mebbe, when we have 
 to stand off on^y^f those rowdy outfits from 
 over the river, twenty or thirty against us 
 four. How do you think you'd feel then, 
 without thick walls and gun-ports? Inside 
 of this place, when we get the doors and 
 windows fixed the way I'll show you, we can 
 hold our own against as many as can get on 
 the outside, unless they bring cannon. 
 There's lots of folks that'll be sorry they 
 didn't build this way; you mark what I tell 
 you." 
 
 Barns and sheds were made, too, after 
 the same substantial pattern, though they 
 were less warlike in purpose and appearance. 
 When all was done, so that we had time to 
 look about us and think of what had been 
 accomplished, we were well satisfied. Our 
 work gave assurance that we had come to 
 stay; that we were no longer aliens, but 
 entitled to the honours of full citizenship. 
 
 While the hard work of building had been 
 going forward, we had lived like a big fam 
 ily ; the men working together, helping one 
 another as need arose, and the two women 
 attending to the out-door kitchen under the
 
 Home Making 139 
 
 friendly trees, not the lightest share of 
 work, for our appetites kept pace with our 
 labours, and sound health attended upon all. 
 It was a generous life, already amply re 
 warded. Each one of us learned to rely more 
 and more not only upon himself, but upon 
 the others. Labour and sacrifice and danger 
 are well repaid when a man finds that he can 
 place full trust in his fellows, with no fear 
 of their failing him. 
 
 As the days passed I was filled with sharp 
 sorrow for that first speech of mine to Eliza 
 beth concerning the unwisdom of women 
 taking part in this pilgrimage. She was a 
 hundred times stronger and braver than I; 
 not alone in the big things, but in the little 
 things of daily trial, which are the real trials 
 after all. A mountain of adversity may 
 beautify a life-landscape; the outlook from 
 its summit may reveal things undreamed of 
 in the peaceful valley. Such a mountain is 
 no hardship; it is the tiny dust-grains of 
 trivial worry blown into our eyes which test 
 temper and endurance. In those matters 
 Elizabeth showed courage sadly wanting in 
 myself. Gladly would I have undone that 
 harsh speech of mine, if I could; but I had
 
 140 Sons of Strength 
 
 to content myself with confession of its in 
 justice, letting her see that I was truly re 
 pentant. 
 
 And thus, while we worked, the weeks 
 passed and winter was at hand. We were 
 quite secluded from the world and its activi 
 ties, almost castaways, hearing no news, 
 and knowing nothing of what had been 
 happening. We were not far from Law 
 rence, to be sure, but our claims were away 
 from the main trails, and we saw no one. 
 But though we worked in outward and 
 undisturbed quiet, our thoughts were not at 
 peace ; nor could they be until we knew what 
 had been going forward in the territory and 
 in the nation. Portentous things might and 
 must have happened. But preparations 
 against approaching winter seemed the great 
 est present demand upon us : news-gathering 
 must be put.off. 
 
 We were not idly curious. Our own wel 
 fare hung in a light balance. When we had 
 entered the territory, the administration of 
 affairs had been practically lawless, save as 
 the settlers chose to regard the principles of 
 natural justice and equity; and no one cared 
 to venture a prediction whether that would
 
 Home Making 141 
 
 continue, once the thin tissue of novelty had 
 been worn away, leaving the threadbare fab 
 ric of dull reality. There were many threats 
 which the future held in suspense. It might 
 be a matter of but a short time until force 
 would rule us ; for in the judgment of many 
 in such troubled times, force is considered 
 more feasible than equity. In McCulloch's 
 forecast of events, force and violence were to 
 be the mace and scepter of our enemies of 
 the Blue Lodges. 
 
 But at last our work was done. We had 
 built well, and the rigours of severest winter 
 could visit no surprise upon us. We were 
 safe, secure and comfortable, save that our 
 great appetites had made sad inroads upon 
 our store of provisions, which must be re 
 plenished ere winter enclosed us. But that 
 was cause for no anxiety, for the roads were 
 still open, and the weather milder than we 
 had expected, though December was upon 
 us. We determined then that our need for 
 food, added to our need for news, should 
 prompt a trip to Lawrence with one of our 
 wagons. 
 
 McCulloch was eager to go; an eager 
 ness which I at first laid to the charge of his
 
 142 Sons of Strength 
 
 boyish spirit of impatience with monotony 
 and his love of exciting change; but I was 
 not long in seeing that I wronged him in 
 that, as I had already wronged him in so 
 many ways when I had judged him by first 
 appearances. While we were discussing 
 plans, he made occasion to speak with me 
 apart. 
 
 "Look here, Pokey; you've got to let me 
 go. Look at it sensible, can't you ? We've 
 been here two months, an' how do you know 
 what's happened? A wagon may have a 
 hot time getting to Lawrence an' back. It 
 looks to me like it'd be foolish to send one of 
 you fellows in, that don't know the country 
 like I do. The safest way is goin' to be to 
 keep away from the trails, and go across 
 country, until I can find out about things. I 
 ain't scared, understand, don't you never 
 think that; but I ain't goin' to risk losin' 
 horses an' wagon, that's all. I tell you I've 
 got to go." 
 
 "Well," I said ; "but you must take some 
 one with you. We'll go together ; or you can 
 take one of the other men, if that suits you 
 better." 
 
 He shook his head strongly. "No," he
 
 Home Making 143 
 
 answered. "One man's as good as two; 
 better, because we've only got four alto 
 gether. I can make it alone, if anybody 
 can. I ain't braggin' now, Pokey ; I'm only 
 talkin' sense. You can trust me, can't 
 you?" 
 
 Trust him! He was so much in earnest 
 that there was no room for doubt. While 
 he was in that mood I would have relied 
 upon him to drive his wagon around the 
 world, if need required. 
 
 "Well," he said, when he saw my re 
 sistance evaporating, "then that's settled, is 
 it? You fix it with the others, an' I'll pull 
 out in the morning." 
 
 And thus it was arranged, without strong 
 demur upon the part of any one. When he 
 had promised to carry the matter through, 
 we did not doubt that he would do it, and 
 gave ourselves to aiding him in preparation 
 for his going.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A NEW ELEMENT 
 
 THROUGH our weeks of labour I had had 
 no time for thought. I had been wholly 
 lost and abandoned in the need and duty of 
 each present moment. Though work was 
 sweet to us, it had been very hard. All day 
 long our muscles strained to their uttermost 
 with the heavy logs, so that we were worn 
 and beaten into weariness, with tired senses 
 longing for nightfall, when we could sleep 
 the deep sleep of utter exhaustion. But 
 on this night, when I had done with 
 helping McCulloch, and all was in readi 
 ness for the morning, I wrapped myself 
 warmly for protection against the chill 
 of the night, and sat down upon the 
 rude bench that we had built at the front of 
 our house. There were some practical con 
 cerns that must have thoughtful attention, 
 concerns of dollars and acres. And I began 
 very well; but soon, without knowing how
 
 A New Element 145 
 
 it came about, without caring why, I was 
 deep in thought of Elizabeth. 
 
 I loved her; so much I knew with a cer 
 tainty that shamed the security of all my 
 other knowledge, save the knowledge that 
 she was worthy of a love based upon the 
 best of all that is good in manhood. The 
 love that a man cherishes for a true and pure 
 woman becomes very strange and wonderful 
 to him, when he thinks of it calmly. He 
 may not say surely when it had its birth, any 
 more than he may date his other thoughts; 
 he may only say that it has become a part of 
 himself, and that he cannot put it away from 
 him. When I tried on that night to find my 
 way back to the time when love began, I 
 could not do it; it seemed older than mem 
 ory, as though from the first my life had 
 been in some mysterious way directed and 
 shaped toward the time when I should love 
 this girl. There had been small chance of 
 late for talking with her, or for seeing her 
 alone ; there was no need for that, for speech 
 is but a sorry means to such an end as love. 
 I did not know, I dared not try to think 
 what would come of it. Until that night I 
 had hardly dared make clear confession even
 
 146 Sons of Strength 
 
 to my own heart that I loved her ; but then, 
 when I would have told myself that it was 
 true, I saw that there was no need for that, 
 either. There was no need for anything 
 beyond making surrender of myself to the 
 certainty that love possessed me, and that 
 the wild wide night was witness to the truth. 
 
 And then, when I had found that out, and 
 was trying to grow accustomed to the won 
 der of it all, I was quite lost to everything 
 else. I must have sat in that way for a long 
 time, thinking of my beloved and comforting 
 myself with little tricks of fancy, dwelling 
 upon her sweetness and gentleness, the calm 
 beauty of her eyes, and the soft loveliness of 
 her voice, as a man will. Then all at once 
 like a dream within a dream, I heard her 
 voice quite near me, and when I had aroused 
 myself somewhat I could see in the deep 
 twilight that she and McCulloch stood to 
 gether only a few steps away. I was so star 
 tled by the sudden awakening that I did not 
 think of moving, but sat still where I was 
 and heard what they said. 
 
 "So you are to be the one to go?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, I'm goin,' " he answered lightly.
 
 A New Element 147 
 
 "I'm glad I run acrost you, too. I wanted 
 to see you before I got away. I was goin' 
 to ask you to let me do something for you 
 in the town." 
 
 "Something for me?" she repeated. 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't care what. Anything you 
 think about. I'd like to do something for 
 you ; that's all." 
 
 She laughed gaily, a little ripple of de 
 lighted enjoyment of his frank gallantry. 
 She was never under constraint when she 
 talked with him, and he seemed always to 
 like that way. But this time he did not 
 laugh with her. 
 
 "Say, I ain't jokin'," he urged; and I 
 knew that he spoke the truth, for his voice 
 carried the deep resonant note which I had 
 grown to love so well. "I mean just what I 
 say, Eliz'beth; I want to do somethin' for 
 you, an' I want you to tell me to do it." 
 
 "Forgive me," she said gently; "I didn't 
 mean to be rude." 
 
 "You couldn't," he answered. "'Tain't 
 in you, like 'tis in other folks. You're 
 different from everybody else I know, ex-
 
 148 Sons of Strength 
 
 cept Mam. Mam's the only one I ever saw 
 that I like better than I like you." 
 
 She made no answer to that; and when 
 McCulloch spoke again, it was with an ef 
 fort at lighter manner. "That ain't what I 
 was goin' to say. But I ain't sorry I said it, 
 you know. You've just got to tell me to do 
 somethin' for you, an' I won't quit botherin' 
 you till you do." 
 
 "You can't please me in any way any 
 better than by bringing yourself safely back 
 to us," she said in the same gentle way. I 
 heard that his breath was sharply indrawn, 
 after the manner of one who suffers a shock 
 of cold, and his answer was quite as sharp : 
 
 "Oh, Lord ! What's the use sayin' things 
 like that?" 
 
 "Why shouldn't I say it?" she asked sim 
 ply; "don't you think it's true?" 
 
 "Eliz'beth!" he cried in a voice which 
 I did not know as his, so hard and strained 
 it was. "What you think I'm made of?" 
 He was bravely struggling for control. "I 
 wish you'd go away!" he burst forth at 
 last; "I can't. 'Tain't in me to run away 
 from anything; not even this." 
 
 No doubt the poor girl was startled by
 
 A New Element 149 
 
 such strange speech. She turned without a 
 word, and would have left him, but he called 
 to her impetuously: "Eliz'beth! wait a 
 minute!" He stepped to her side, then 
 spoke more quietly, as though for reas 
 surance : "You don't need to be scared. I 
 wasn't goin' to say much : yes, I was, too ; 
 but not to scare you. I was goin' to say a 
 heap. Oh, Eliz'beth, listen !" And though 
 he seemed quite himself again, his voice was 
 of fathomless depth. "I don't know for the 
 life of me which is most like a coward, to 
 talk, or to keep still. I've got to talk, I 
 reckon, whether I want to or not. I ain't 
 sure a man's got any business to keep still, 
 not if he's honest, when he when he feels 
 like I do about you." 
 
 Why it was I cannot say; but my heart 
 held no fear while I listened, but only sor 
 row and pity, and the wish to comfort him ; 
 for I thought that he must feel quite 
 wretched and hopeless. And I felt pity for 
 the girl, too, in the face of such rude way of 
 speaking as his. Most people at such times 
 find refuge and protection behind light 
 breastworks of words ; but there was no such 
 refuge for him, who knew nothing of for-
 
 150 Sons of Strength 
 
 mality or subterfuge. He had to speak the 
 plain truth in a plain way, if he spoke at all. 
 
 "Archy, what is it?" she asked softly. 
 "Have I done anything to hurt you?" 
 
 "You !" he cried with a short laugh. Then 
 he suddenly struck his open hands together, 
 and held them locked fast. "Oh !" he cried 
 passionately; "I wish I was different! I 
 wish I was a man, the kind of a man Pokey 
 is ! You love Pokey, don't you ?" 
 
 "Archy ! Hush !" she cried in sharp pain, 
 and I felt my face flushing hot. For very 
 sharr\e I wished myself away ; but I feared to 
 move. I could do nothing but sit still where 
 I was and wait for what came next. 
 
 "I can't hush," he said. "I've got to talk. 
 Tell the wind to hush, an' mebbe it would ; I 
 can't. 'Tain't goin' to do you no hurt, an' 
 it's goin' to do me a heap of good to tell you 
 just this once, honest, I love you. There !" 
 he cried, when in voluntarily she shrunk away 
 from him. "There ! that's all. I ain't ever 
 goin' to say it again ; don't you be afraid. I 
 had to tell you. An' now you're told, so 
 you can't ever forget, not if you tried. You 
 ain't one of the kind that forgets such 
 things." There came a throbbing pause
 
 A New Element 151 
 
 then, which must have seemed to him like a 
 reproof, for when he spoke again it was in a 
 tone of pleading apology. "That ain't so 
 bad, is it? I hoped you wouldn't feel bad 
 about it. When even a dog loves you, you 
 like to know it, don't you? I do." 
 
 She gave a sharp inarticulate cry of pro 
 test, and I saw that she grasped at his 
 clenched hands, holding them fast in her 
 own. "Oh, Archy! Don't !" she breathed. 
 Upon sudden impulse she lifted one of his 
 great hands to her lips, then laid her cheek 
 against it. But he pulled his hand away, 
 trying to laugh, a feeble little laugh that 
 died in birth. 
 
 "Lord A'mighty!" he sighed almost in- 
 audibly. "This here ain't no place for me. 
 I'd better be greasin' my harness. You trot 
 along, Eliz'beth, an' go to bed. It's time 
 you was asleep. I ain't goin' to talk to you 
 no more." 
 
 "Archy!" she said again, oh so gently. 
 "Dear Archy, if I could only say " 
 
 His laugh was stronger and braver then. 
 "Don't you say it, old lady. What's the 
 use? You ought to have more sense. 
 Shucks! I oughtn't to have worried you;
 
 152 Sons of Strength 
 
 but seemed like I couldn't help it. Look 
 here; you mustn't feel that way about it. 
 You an' me's got to be good friends ; that's 
 all. Don't you ever dare forget that." 
 
 All fear had left her. She stood close to 
 him, lifting her hands to lay them upon his 
 broad shoulders, while her face was turned 
 to his. But he held his head erect, standing 
 straight and firm as the strongest tree in the 
 woodland beyond, his hands folded together 
 at his back. 
 
 "Say," he said slowly; "there's one thing 
 needs straightening yet. You mustn't 
 think I ain't bein' fair with Pokey. Him an' 
 me's pardners. I love Pokey, an' so do you, 
 don't you?" 
 
 But at that she turned quickly away and 
 left him. He made no attempt to follow 
 her, nor did he try to speak again. He 
 stood without moving until she had passed 
 from sight into the deep night shadows, 
 until the sounds of her footsteps had died 
 away, until she opened the door of her 
 home, letting a beam of light flash out into 
 the night, to reveal her form for an instant 
 before she vanished, closing the door after 
 her. Still he stood motionless, while my
 
 A New Element 153 
 
 heart measured many slow seconds. I 
 longed to go to him, but a weight of irreso 
 lution was upon me. Suddenly he raised 
 his arms above his head, holding them out 
 stretched to the sky, and turning his face up 
 ward, so that it showed haggard and pale in 
 the wan starlight. 
 
 "Oh!" he groaned. "Why ain't I dif 
 ferent!" But that did not last. In a 
 moment he recovered himself and walked 
 slowly away toward the stables at the back 
 of the clearing. Though I lay awake for 
 a long time in my bed, he did not come into 
 the house. I thought of him at first, and 
 my thoughts were full of wonder and com 
 passion; but I was thinking of Elizabeth 
 when at last I fell asleep, and my fitful 
 dreams were of her, not of him. 
 
 Before dawn of the chill morning I was 
 aroused by the gentle weight of his hand 
 upon my shoulder, and by the flare and 
 flicker of a candle he carried. He was al 
 ready dressed, and when I started up in bed 
 I saw that his own bed had been undisturbed 
 through the night. His eyes were sunken 
 and his face pale and worn, but he spoke in 
 his usual cheery manner:
 
 1 54 Sons of Strength 
 
 "How you do sleep! I've made noise 
 enough here to wake up old Adam. Break 
 fast's nearly ready; you better get dressed 
 quick. I want to start early, so as to go as 
 far as I can before folks begin to travel." 
 
 A bright fire was blazing in our wide fire 
 place in the outer room. Water was sing 
 ing in the kettle, and the cabin was filled 
 with the grateful scent and sound of frying 
 bacon. With the aid of plenty of cold water 
 I was soon awake, and I dressed rapidly. 
 Our simple breakfast was awaiting me. Mc- 
 Culloch was already in his place, drinking 
 strong black coffee with much apparent rel 
 ish. 
 
 "That's the stuff to wake a body up !" he 
 said when his tin pint-cup was emptied. The 
 hand that lifted the steaming pot to refill his 
 cup was trembling. He ate nothing, though 
 I urged his need for fortifying himself for 
 the cold journey. 
 
 "Too early," he said briefly. "Don't you 
 worry; I'll take a little snack with me, to 
 eat by and by, and I'll cook something hot 
 at noon. I'll be in Lawrence some time to 
 night, you know." 
 
 After that, though we made determined
 
 A New Element 155 
 
 efforts to talk of the affairs before us, we 
 bungled sadly. I saw that he was very tired ; 
 and my own thoughts would go wandering 
 in unfamiliar places, where speech dared not 
 follow. Soon he pushed his chair away 
 from the table and began buttoning his 
 heavy coat around him. 
 
 "Don't hurry," he said. "There's no 
 need for you to go out yet. I've got the 
 horses fed, an' the harness on 'em, all ready 
 to put 'em in the wagon. You sit still an' 
 eat." But I arose and went with him to the 
 stable, and together we attended to the few 
 last details. When everything was ready, 
 he stood beside me for a moment, holding 
 his lantern aloft so that its light fell full 
 upon my face. He laid his free arm over 
 my shoulders, holding me against his breast 
 in his impulsive caressing way, and laughing 
 lightly. 
 
 "Good-by, Pardner Pokey," he said. 
 "Now don't you get uneasy. You know 
 there ain't nothin' to worry about, only it's 
 a good thing not to risk being surprised. 
 I've got my rifle an' a couple of pistols 
 handy, under the hay in the bottom of the 
 wagon. They won't catch me asleep. I
 
 156 Sons of Strength 
 
 ought to be back in four days, anyway ; tut 
 don't you get scared if I don't come for a 
 day or two more. I may want to drive a 
 good ways off the trail, if I find it's safer. 
 Good-by; an' tell the rest of 'em good-by 
 forme, will you?" 
 
 He lowered his lantern and stood for a 
 little time in silence, patting my shoulder 
 gently with his heavy hand. I dreaded that 
 he would speak of Elizabeth; but if he 
 thought of it at all, he gave it up. 
 
 "Good-by," he called again from his seat ; 
 and then the wagon passed away into the 
 shadows, and became one with them.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 TO ARMS 
 
 ALTHOUGH our hardest work was done, 
 there were still many little things to claim 
 us. We had made up our minds that if we 
 would deserve success in our new life, no 
 moment of daylight should find us idle, and 
 we all worked with a will at those odds and 
 ends which lie ever ready to the hand of the 
 farmer, in all seasons. I had thought that 
 I should miss McCulloch in his absence ; but 
 I found the day passing very quickly, with 
 both muscle and mind so busy. 
 
 In the dull gray mid-afternoon, while I 
 worked upon our pile of firewood, swing 
 ing my axe with a lusty willingness, to keep 
 off the cold, I was all at once startled by a 
 far-off shout, rising again and again with 
 much urgency. When I straightened my 
 self and looked around, I saw a horse flying 
 toward the clearing, across the open prairie, 
 a man mounted upon its back, swinging 
 his arms over his head wildly, and shout-
 
 158 Sons of Strength 
 
 ing. He was not long in coming so 
 near that I could see it was McCulloch, 
 and that he was riding one of the horses 
 taken from the wagon. A part of the beast's 
 harness was still upon it, the loosened ends 
 of the straps flyng and flapping, and the ani 
 mal's breath made quick little puffs of white 
 vapour. It ran with the short uneven gait 
 of an animal far spent. McCulloch was a 
 sore burden for the strongest horse in a gal 
 lop over wild prairie. 
 
 McCulloch sat in his seat like one half- 
 drunk, swaying from side to side. He kept 
 no hold of rein, but was using both freed 
 arms to emphasize and point his shouting. 
 His hat was gone, and his outer coat was 
 spread beneath him for a saddle. I was 
 deeply alarmed, though his shouts seemed 
 exultant. But suspense was not long con 
 tinued, for with his booted feet McCulloch 
 was urging the poor beast to do its best, and 
 he soon drew so near that he could call to me 
 articulately. 
 
 "Glory, glory, glory!" he roared. "Hell's 
 popped wide open, Pardner, it has, sure! 
 We're goin' to have some fightin' at last!" 
 
 His face was radiant. He threw himself
 
 To Arms 159 
 
 to the ground, staggering against me breath 
 lessly, and hugging me tight in his mighty 
 arms. 
 
 "What is it you say?" I cried. "Let go 
 of me, Archy, and talk like a sane man." 
 
 "Oh, it's true !" he gasped, capering about 
 like a pleased child, with me in his arms. My 
 strength was of no use against his, while he 
 chose to hold me. "I found out from a fel 
 low that's riding across to stir up some Free 
 Soilers above here. Every man that can 
 carry a gun's wanted in Lawrence right off! 
 Oh, I ain't foolin'! We'll have a Glory 
 Hallelujah time, Pokey, you an' me. I 
 swear, it makes me glad I'm alive, just to 
 think about it !" 
 
 "But, Archy !" I persisted, getting clear of 
 his embrace at last, and grasping his wrists 
 firmly. "Tell me what you mean, man! 
 What is it?" 
 
 He motioned that I should follow, and 
 strode into our house, where he threw him 
 self down upon his bed, stretching out his 
 arms and legs in an excess of complete 
 weariness, his broad chest heaving as he 
 strove to regain his spent breath. 
 
 "Oh !" he cried again, as though that was
 
 160 Sons of Strength 
 
 all he could say. He lay there, panting, 
 and laughing foolishly sometimes, until he 
 had recovered his senses and his breath to 
 gether. Then he sat upright upon the bed's 
 edge, his broad face flushing with excite 
 ment while he talked. 
 
 "Pokey, Pokey ! but the things that have 
 happened since we've been shut up in here! 
 You don't know ! It's the Blue Lodges again 
 that's doin' it. They hate Lawrence like 
 they hate the devil; worse, because the 
 devil's a friend of their'n. They've just 
 been waitin' their chance, an' now they think 
 it's come.- Old Goliah thought so, too, 
 didn't he ? that time when he run up against 
 David. That's the kind of a time we're 
 goin' to have. Oh, it'll be splendid !" 
 
 "Archy!" I demanded; "what are you 
 talking of? Have you gone altogether 
 daft?" 
 
 "Yes!" he shouted exultantly. "Plum 
 wild crazy ; that's what I am ! You would 
 be, too, if you only knew." He bounced up 
 from his seat upon the bed and ran to me, 
 giving me another fierce hug. "Look here, 
 now," he said, with a determined effort to 
 be rational and coherent: "there's goin' to
 
 To Arms 161 
 
 be real fightin', down to Lawrence. There 
 was some folks got mixed up in a murder, 
 and the sheriff had a Free Soil prisoner, 
 takin' him down to Lecompton, makin' his 
 brags about what they was goin' to do. But 
 the prisoner was stole away from Mr. Sher 
 iff, an' taken down to Lawrence. That's 
 what's made the trouble. The sheriff called 
 on the governor for militia to help. Militia ! 
 In Kansas! Ain't that rich? We know 
 where the 'militia's' comin' from, an' so do 
 the Lawrence folks, an' they ain't goin' to 
 stand it. There's a thousand 'militia' camped 
 down to Franklin right now, an' more 
 comin'. That messenger told me they're 
 comin' fixed to fight, too. They've got two 
 cannon, an' they've stole all kinds of arms 
 from an arsenal. With the most the Free 
 Soilers can get together, the Blue Lodges'll 
 have three to one. I wish it was six to one ; 
 that'd be just about right to give us a good 
 fight. Oh, Pokey, Pokey ! It's great!" 
 
 He could not tell much more than that, 
 though the others of our party gathered in 
 our house and plied him with questions ; he 
 could only urge upon us that we be prompt 
 in getting ready to go to the aid of the be-
 
 162 Sons of Strength 
 
 sieged town ; and we soon put curiosity away 
 from us and began to form our preparations. 
 There was no whisper of personal prudence 
 raised among us, a thing I was glad to re 
 member afterward. We did not think of 
 it at all ; we were only anxious to give quick 
 answer to the call of need. 
 
 Preparations were not elaborate. In less 
 than an hour we were ready. We had only 
 to see that our arms were in order, and to 
 improvise blanket saddles for the horses. 
 Three of us were to go, leaving the women 
 and the older man behind, to care for our 
 possessions. None had any wish to stay, 
 now that the chance for action was ripening, 
 Elizabeth least of all, as I could plainly 
 see; though she yielded to sober counsels. 
 McCulloch had left his wagon and his free 
 horse in a place of safety, where he might 
 reach them some time before midnight, if we 
 rode well; and we meant to waste no time. 
 
 We had plenty of company when we 
 found the trail; for the alarm had been 
 quickly spread abroad through the wide 
 prairie neighbourhood, and the settlers gave 
 ready response. With our numbers there 
 was no necessity for avoiding the main trav-
 
 To Arms 163 
 
 elled ways, and by the next midday we were 
 in Lawrence, face to face with masked des 
 tiny. 
 
 From all the country around the people 
 had gathered, five hundred strong. The 
 town was alive with armed men, and bust 
 ling with active effort to prepare for de 
 fense, for they meant to do nothing more 
 than defend their rights. The arms were 
 various and for the most part old fashioned 
 and poor; but the spirit of the men was of 
 that sort which is never out of fashion when 
 there is a stern duty to be done. Some there 
 were, of course, who bore themselves with a 
 manner of doubt, and even with white-faced 
 fear, but they were no large part of the com 
 pany; the greater number showed ruddy 
 and clear-eyed courage, though the outlook 
 was not such as to beget confidence. Rumor 
 said that the invading enemies of the town 
 then in camp a few miles away were of three 
 times our number, well equipped with rifles 
 and even with heavier weapons, worse 
 than all, with many days' supply of liquor. 
 Attack was almost hourly expected; none 
 could say why it had been so long delayed. 
 Meanwhile, defensive earthworks were
 
 164 Sons of Strength 
 
 growing hour by hour under willing hands ; 
 men were drilling under their chosen lead 
 ers ; and women, too, were busied in a hun 
 dred ways, cooking, moulding bullets, 
 some even bearing arms, begging to take 
 their places in the ranks with the soldiers. 
 It was a sight very good to look upon. 
 
 Upon the main street of the town there 
 stood a building of stone, not yet completed, 
 but since crowned with fame, the Free 
 State Hotel. To that place we were di 
 rected, when we inquired for the headquar 
 ters of the militiamen, and thither we went 
 to report ourselves for duty.
 
 CHAPTER XV3 
 
 OLD JOHN BROWN 
 
 As we drew near we saw a curious spec 
 tacle. Many men were gathered around 
 the front of the hotel, regarding with won 
 dering eyes a wagon which had arrived just 
 before our own. There were six or seven 
 men within it, all heavily armed, and of 
 themselves enough to attract attention at 
 such a time, when men were so sorely 
 needed. But it was the wagon that formed 
 the chief interest. Around its sides many 
 poles were set upright, and to the top of each 
 there was fastened a weapon, sword, bayo 
 net or pistol, making the whole to look most 
 warlike and imposing. When the driver of 
 the strange vehicle drew rein before the ho 
 tel, a hearty cheer went up from the assem 
 blage, and we hastened to join the throng, 
 anxious to see what manner of men the new 
 comers might be. 
 
 All were young save one. His shoulders 
 were a little stooped, though age sat lightly
 
 1 66 Sons of Strength 
 
 upon him. His figure was firm, and above 
 middle height, and every movement gave 
 promise of agile strength. Although I 
 could see so little of him as yet, I felt a 
 strange attraction toward him, and pushed 
 my way forward so that I might see his face 
 and form clearer judgment concerning him. 
 As I reached the side of the wagon, he 
 sprang lightly to the ground, and for a brief 
 time we stood regarding one another in 
 tently, for so short a time as might have 
 been required for speaking ten words, 
 though there were no words that passed be 
 tween us. I knew that I was living to some 
 purpose while those eyes were fixed upon 
 me, for a sincere and dauntless soul looked 
 out of them. His face was clean shaven, 
 showing every line upon it, and every line 
 was full of meaning. Calm dignity of 
 thought marked the wide forehead, sheltered 
 by shaggy hair ; the firm lips showed perfect 
 control and mastery of self ; but the beauti 
 ful eyes I loved best, for in them there blazed 
 a will so mighty that no earthly circumstance 
 could subdue it or turn it from its way. 
 There was no expression of softness upon 
 the face as I looked at it then ; but that was
 
 Old John Brown 167 
 
 not a time for softness. It was the face of 
 one who knew beyond all doubt what man 
 hood meant, and who was living up to his 
 knowledge. It was the face of one who had 
 heard the voice of God speaking to him, di 
 recting his ways, and whose greatest earthly 
 glory it was to yield obedience to his Lord's 
 command and do His will. Old John 
 Brown ! 
 
 And men have called him mad. No 
 doubt he was, when measured by those 
 earthly standards which account all men as 
 fools or mad whose every thought and im 
 pulse and act is not concerned with self. No 
 doubt he was mad as all must be who are 
 compelled to listen at once to the voice of 
 God and to the Babel of earthly tongues. 
 Yes, no doubt he was mad, in the view of 
 such as cried against a certain holyNazarene 
 that he had a devil. But I thank God that 
 I have met face to face with one heaven- 
 born and heaven-directed madman. This 
 world is far poorer since he left it, a pov 
 erty that may not be mended. 
 
 But I have lost my way, and have wan 
 dered far from the course of my tale. 
 
 While I stood there in the street, looking-,
 
 1 68 Sons of Strength 
 
 looking, and not getting enough of looking 
 at that master's face, some one touched me 
 upon the shoulder, and a deep voice said: 
 "Pokey! My boy! Thank God!" And 
 there was John Hale at my side. Oh, that 
 was a blessed day! 
 
 He had grown much older in appearance 
 since last I had seen him. His big beard was 
 streaked with gray, and there was a mottling 
 of gray upon his temples. But those things 
 do not count for much in such a man; his 
 eyes were full of that fire which only death 
 can smother ; the smile that lay upon his face 
 was like a pledge of eternal youth. 
 
 "I made sure that I should find you, dear," 
 he said, speaking as though I was still a 
 child ; and indeed I had a child's joy while I 
 stood before him, holding his hand, and 
 knowing that he lived and that all was well 
 with him. 
 
 "Yes,"I answered, when I could find the 
 power of speech ; "I could not stay behind." 
 
 "A great big boy you have grown to be, 
 too," he said, running his eyes over my bulk. 
 
 "Big enough, I hope, to fill a large place 
 in the ranks here," I laughed. "Does it look 
 serious?" '
 
 Old John Brown 169 
 
 "Serious enough!" he answered soberly; 
 "serious enough. No one can say what is 
 ahead; though we shall no doubt give a 
 good account of ourselves." 
 
 He had not much to tell of himself, be 
 yond the plain facts that he and his family 
 had fared well in the new territory, and that 
 he had taken part in many of those conflicts 
 which were now history. He asked a few 
 questions concerning my own life and ex 
 perience in Kansas, and seemed well pleased 
 when he knew the most essential parts of 
 what I had to tell him. "We shall make this 
 into a beautiful land," he said confidently, 
 "and one fit for God to look upon with pleas 
 ure. It is so written, Pokey ; we must believe 
 it. Justice will be done ; it is beyond human 
 power to prevent that." I know that he be 
 lieved what he said. 
 
 He had formed some acquaintance already 
 with John Brown, and of that he gave me 
 the benefit. Before very long we were upon 
 terms of such friendship as the stress of cir 
 cumstances required. 
 
 The martial appearance of John Brown 
 and his men gave them much prestige in the 
 beleaguered town, though they were modest
 
 170 Sons of Strength 
 
 in taking the forward places assigned to 
 them. Among the best armed of those who 
 had assembled, a new militia company was 
 at once formed, and of this company Brown 
 was made captain. Archy, John Hale and I 
 were selected for service under him. We 
 lost no time, once we had been assigned to 
 duty. Our captain soon had us in company 
 formation, drilling us in the arms-manual 
 and instructing us in some of the plainer 
 things of warfare. No doubt those were 
 matters of which a righting man should have 
 some knowledge, though they were of less 
 service to us, both then and thereafter, than 
 another lesson which he seemed ordained 
 to teach, the great lesson of manly self-re 
 liance and heroic self-sacrifice in one. He did 
 his best to make us believe that we were to 
 fight for a just cause, and that therefore God 
 had decreed us victorious, a strange way of 
 thinking in this latter time, and a way al 
 most gone out of style, though nothing could 
 shake his simple faith or move his steadfast 
 will. Doubt had no place in his mind, while 
 there was a duty waiting to be done; and 
 he tried to teach us so, while instructing us 
 in the use of our rifles. But for the most part
 
 Old John Brown 171 
 
 the men were slow to learn the higher lesson, 
 having greater confidence in their weapons 
 than in themselves. 
 
 Soon he had learned the temper of the 
 men under his command, as well as the exi 
 gencies of the time; then he was impatient 
 for action, impatient to strike a blow. We 
 had been waiting in hourly expectation that 
 the invaders would advance upon us, when 
 they had discovered our inferiority in num 
 bers and arms; but the passing hours bore 
 nothing more trying than our own suspense. 
 Delay was not to Brown's liking, nor would 
 he give ear to the counsels of caution urged 
 upon him by those who knew the strength 
 of the force we should have to combat. 
 
 "You are ignorant of the ways of the 
 Lord," he said to such as tried to discourage 
 him in his plan. "The time is ripe. The 
 Lord does not temporize with evil, and 
 neither can I, who am appointed by Him to 
 do this work. We shall go down and smite 
 in His name, and even my little band shall 
 have victory." And indeed those of the 
 command who had come to know him and 
 to know themselves were as impatient as he, 
 and as unwilling to be restrained for policy's
 
 172 Sons of Strength 
 
 sake. But we were made to suffer disap 
 pointment. 
 
 A Council of Safety there was in the town, 
 formed of those men whose political craft 
 had been tried and proven. Their desire was 
 to secure peace, rather than victory ; to sac 
 rifice honour for peace, rather than to risk 
 defeat for victory. The inexorable spirit of 
 John Brown, whom they soon called fanatic, 
 kept the Council in a constant dumb ague 
 of terror, while they kept him in constant 
 wrath. When his plan was formed for mak 
 ing an attack upon the invaders' camp, the 
 Council appealed to the chief officers of the 
 militia to check his mad design, and to pre 
 vent the conflict which the committee dread 
 ed; for it was a Council of Fear, strong 
 in the faith that safety lay only in non-resist 
 ance. I remember that there were several 
 visits of those men to our captain, which 
 came to nothing. We were going on with 
 preparations for attack, when at last Gen 
 eral Lane appeared in person, attended by 
 a few of his adherents. He was a man of 
 well-known and often-tried political cunning, 
 and of such composite character that al 
 though he was wholly false to principle and
 
 Old John Brown 173 
 
 full of low hypocrisy, he had persuaded the 
 people to think him genuine and true. But 
 that is no very hard task at any time ; for we 
 sons of earth are after all a simple-minded 
 lot, and easily deceived by appearances. 
 Lane and his party came to seek Brown, 
 while we were drilling, and to make a final 
 effort to thwart his purpose; and when I 
 looked them over, from my place in the 
 ranks, to see what they might be like who 
 would try to overawe this doughty old Puri 
 tan, among the foremost of them I descried 
 Blinky Meade, his dimpl'es sunk into 
 wrinkles of perplexity, his dreamy brown 
 eyes clouded with doubt and anxiety. When 
 I knew that he was likely to try his tongue 
 upon the unchangeable spirit of our leader, I 
 kept my ears open. 
 
 Lane spoke with a great show of bluster 
 ing authority, giving an emphatic order of 
 obedience to his direction that the attack 
 upon Franklin be abandoned; but as well 
 might he have tried to exercise his authority 
 upon the north wind. Brown listened in 
 silence for a time ; but it was a silence which 
 we knew could not endure for very long. 
 
 "I deny all military authority over me,
 
 174 Sons of Strength 
 
 unless you give me an order to fight," he 
 cried at last hotly. "My master is the Lord. 
 I shall obey none but Him, and His orders 
 I have already received." 
 
 "Your course would be the sheerest folly," 
 Lane answered with the hasty impatience of 
 one who was not much concerned with ques 
 tions of heavenly dominion in earthly af 
 fairs. "What can you hope to do, with fifty 
 men against fifteen hundred? You can do 
 nothing beyond involving us all in ruin and 
 loss." 
 
 Brown's great grey eyes were blazing with 
 the wrath that such speech would excite in 
 him. 
 
 "I should think myself ruined and lost be 
 yond all salvation," he cried, "if I should 
 fail to carry out the trust which the Lord has 
 reposed in me. I cannot listen to the coun 
 sels of such cowardice as yours, and I will 
 not obey your orders." 
 
 While he spoke thus so briefly, the old 
 hero held his drawn sword before him, mak 
 ing use of it in strong gestures. When he had 
 said the last word, he returned the blade to 
 its scabbard, and then the two men stood 
 face to face, their eyes meeting in a silent
 
 Old John Brown 175 
 
 war of one will against the other. They were 
 Lane's eyes that dropped at last, while he 
 turned away to speak with those who at 
 tended hm. He seemed to rely upon Blinky 
 Meade; for to him he spoke a few low syl 
 lables, as though urging him to use what 
 skill of argument he possessed against this 
 rebellious captain, who was so far beyond 
 the reach of discipline. And Blinky was not 
 one to allow such chance to escape him, as I 
 well knew. 
 
 "It is not our wish, here in Lawrence, to 
 provoke strife," he said smoothly. "We 
 wish to preserve peace. It was to that end 
 that our call for aid was sent abroad. You 
 forget that you were summoned here for the 
 protection of our interests." 
 
 A faint smile moved the grim old lips for 
 a moment, while Brown looked into Blinky's 
 face, as though that face was an open page 
 which held something amusing. "Interest !" 
 Brown echoed. "That seems to be a mighty 
 word, sir, in this time. But I am called to 
 serve a stronger interest than yours, which 
 is an interest of dollars. Dollars against 
 righteousness !"
 
 1 76 Sons of Strength 
 
 "Our interests are for peace," Blinky per 
 sisted. 
 
 "Peace!" John Brown repeated again. 
 "Peace to what end? What will you do 
 with peace?" 
 
 "Peace for the enjoyment of our liberties," 
 Blinky answered. "We have made homes 
 for ourselves here ; we desire to preserve and 
 enjoy them. We seek no conflict." But 
 Brown held up his hand with a sharp gesture 
 of remonstrance and dissent. 
 
 "Words! Words!" he cried. "You are 
 faithless to your calling, sir; faithless to 
 your duty as a man ! Peace bought with the 
 coin of cowardice is not peace at all. There 
 can be no peace save that which attends upon 
 righteousness; and when righteousness 
 makes compromises with evil, it is no longer 
 righteousness, but becomes itself a thing of 
 the devil. You need talk to me no more, for 
 we cannot agree." 
 
 Blinky's face grew fiery red with the un 
 lovely flush of wounded vanity. I knew very 
 well that he was not to be converted by the 
 means of plain, honest words like Brown's. 
 His manner was stiff with pride when he 
 tried to answer : "You assume a great deal
 
 Old John Brown 177 
 
 when you place your own notions above the 
 convictions of all the rest of us. We have 
 material interests to guard, while you have 
 no concern beyond the gratification of a 
 wildly foolish whim. We have a right to in 
 sist that you listen to our reasons and ob 
 serve our wishes." 
 
 It was Brown's turn to grow flushed of 
 face ; but his was a flush of passionate indig 
 nation. "I waste time in talking to you!" 
 he cried. "I might as well talk to the de 
 caying stump of a dead tree. Though you 
 call yourself a servant of the Lord, you be 
 tray Him when you set your own vaunted 
 concerns against your duty. I will observe 
 the wish of none but God, whose command 
 I have clearly heard; and it is a command 
 to strike at the oppressors of freedom. You 
 fear a loss of dollars; I do not fear even 
 death. A man dies but once, and when his 
 time comes ; I would account it blessed in the 
 Lord's service. I will strike according to 
 His order, if my men will stand by me." 
 
 When it was so clearly seen that the gran 
 ite will of the old man would yield in no de 
 gree to persuasion, command or threat, and 
 that he would not lose sight of what he
 
 178 Sons of Strength 
 
 thought to be his higher call, General 
 Lane signified to Blinky that he should aban 
 don argument; which he did willingly, 
 though with a manner of childish angry pet 
 ulance. Then Lane spoke to us who formed 
 Brown's company, as though he had received 
 a prompting from Brown's last words. 
 
 "Because of the disobedience of your cap 
 tain to the orders of his superiors," he said, 
 "it becomes my duty to command you that 
 you take no part in any lawless expedition 
 of violence and disorder, under pain of such 
 punishment as may be visited upon you by 
 the constituted authorities. As a part of the 
 military forces summoned for the protection 
 of the town, you will be hereafter subject to 
 my direction. I caution you for your own 
 safety, as well as for the general good, to 
 remember what I say." Then he turned 
 with his aids and left us, while our captain 
 stood with his chin sunk upon his breast, his 
 eyes bent to the ground, as though he had 
 suffered a personal shame. 
 
 It was plain that Lane's words had 
 wrought their intended effect in some of the 
 less courageous hearts ; for it is always easy, 
 in any time and place, to find men who are
 
 Old John Brown 179 
 
 more ready to heed the idlest threat than to 
 follow the strongest call of duty. The 
 greater number of those in our company 
 turned fearful, and their purpose lagged. 
 And soon after, when it became known that 
 the Council of Safety had dispatched a mes 
 senger to bring the governor of the territory 
 from Shawnee Mission to Lawrence, and 
 that they meant to employ his offices in ef 
 fecting a compromise with the Missouri in 
 vaders, John Brown hopelessly abandoned 
 his intentions, and fell into disheartened 
 apathy.
 
 CHAPTER XVI' 
 
 A PRIVATE ENTERPRISE 
 
 STRANGE works are wrought in the name 
 of Safety! as we found when the governor 
 arrived in Lawrence. He was a very weak 
 man, weak because of his strong faith, so 
 popular at that time, that Policy is the most 
 effective means of dealing with men. When 
 he was with the Council he was made drunk, 
 and while he was in that helpless condition, 
 the terms of peace were settled. It was soon 
 known to us that the compromise was a 
 thing of fact, and that the siege of Law 
 rence would be raised. Brown's voice was 
 lifted in solemn protest ; but his protest was 
 passed idly by. The people were too busy 
 with congratulating one another upon their 
 escape from danger; they had no time to 
 give attention to the vagaries of any latter- 
 day voice crying in the wilderness. 
 
 But this was not to the liking of Archy 
 McCulloch. When we knew that peace 
 would reign once more, he brooded upon the
 
 A Private Enterprise 181 
 
 matter for a time in silence ; then he sought 
 me. 
 
 "Pokey, this won't do," he said earnestly. 
 "What kind of a way is this to act ? This is 
 the first chance we've had to look Missouri 
 in the face, and I'd hoped Well, Dad's 
 down there to Franklin; I know he is. It 
 kind o' seems like I'm to blame, myself, for 
 this backin' down. I tell you what; I've 
 got to go down there to Franklin and take a 
 look at them fellows. I've just got to; an' 
 I'm a-goin' to-night, soon as it's dark, before 
 they get away." 
 
 I could not help smiling ; the scheme was 
 so wild, so foolhardy, yet so altogether in 
 harmony with his dominant humour, 
 "Archy," I said; "I must have a guardian 
 appointed to take care of you." 
 
 He laughed with careless good nature. 
 "Oh, I picked him out long ago. What else 
 are you? That's why I'm talkin' to you 
 now ; you've got to come along with me an' 
 look after me." He paused for a moment, 
 studying my face for signs ; then went on in 
 his most candid manner of persuasive sim 
 plicity: "I just can't go back home, after 
 bein' so near to them folks from over the
 
 1 8 2 Sons of Strength 
 
 river, without takin' a squint at 'em. Of 
 course, there's Dad ; I want to see him, you 
 know, that's natural. And then there's 
 bound to be others with the crowd, that I 
 know. I I'm kind o' homesick to see 'em. 
 An' then, Pardner, there's little old 
 Mammy; it's months since I've heard any 
 thing about her. I can't stand it no longer ; 
 I've got to take some chances, an' try to find 
 out something about her." 
 
 "Well, Archy," I was constrained to say 
 after a little of futile argument; "I'll go 
 with you. Do you want any others?" 
 
 "No. You an' me's enough. More would 
 hinder, instead of helpin'. A big party 
 couldn't get in past the picket lines without 
 bein' caught. An' we know too much al 
 ready about the kind of stuff these fellows 
 here are made of; a lot of wood dummies, 
 instead of men. You an' me'll be enough. 
 We'll just sneak in quiet, an' mebbe we can 
 get close enough to see what's goin' on, an' 
 who's there." 
 
 We took no one into our confidence con 
 cerning the trip, save John Brown and Hale. 
 As we talked to Brown briefly, and ex 
 plained the reasons for our going, his rug-
 
 A Private Enterprise 183 
 
 ged face was alight with appreciation and 
 encouragement. "With fifty men like you 
 two, I could route the whole horde!" he 
 cried. And yet our plan was simple and 
 unpraiseworthy. 
 
 We started in the early evening, going 
 quietly and by a roundabout way until we 
 had passed beyond chance of interference 
 from those in the town who were now so cer 
 tain of the end of the trouble. . We knew 
 that they would not suffer us to go, if they 
 guessed our errand. We rode two of our 
 best horses, meaning to make the last part of 
 the journey on foot, to be sure of passing 
 undiscovered through such lines of sentries 
 as might still be maintained on the outskirts 
 of the town where the invaders were 
 camped. It was a cheerless ride, and must 
 have discouraged us if we had not been in 
 earnest. As the night deepened, a heavy rain 
 fell persistently, and a bleak wind blew the 
 rain into our faces, making it sting with 
 harsh needles of cold. The winter chill bit 
 at our hands, and even found its way into 
 our blood, so that we could with difficulty 
 keep to our seats and guide our fretful 
 beasts. Yet when we talked of it, we dis-
 
 184 Sons of Strength 
 
 covered that the weather was in our favour ; 
 for on such a night, those from whom we 
 had to fear molestation would be apt to seek 
 such shelter as they could find, letting the 
 outer world care for itself. This followed 
 our wish exactly; for when we had passed 
 a little way beyond the river, the roads were 
 unfamiliar, and heavy with mud and slush, 
 so that our horses' splashing steps must have 
 betrayed us for a long distance, if there had 
 been any abroad to hear. 
 
 After the last ray of twilight had been 
 sunk and lost in inky blackness of night, and 
 we could no longer see the roadway, we 
 trusted to our horses, allowing them to 
 choose their own way of going. We were 
 sure of nothing, save that we were passing 
 toward Franklin; for in the distance we 
 could see that the low-hanging clouds were 
 ruddy with the reflected glow of the enemy's 
 camp. We had to take all the rest for 
 granted. 
 
 Such mode of travel did not encourage 
 speech ; we had quite enough to do in bend 
 ing our heads to the storm, and in keeping 
 our coats drawn closely about us for protec 
 tion against its icy breath. But when we
 
 A Private Enterprise 185 
 
 had approached as near to the town as we 
 dared upon horseback, and had tied our ani 
 mals in a sheltered and secure place, we 
 found a grateful warmth in the hard work 
 of walking over the miry road. And then, 
 as the blood began to flow more freely in our 
 veins, and our stiffened muscles relaxed, we 
 talked a little now and again. 
 
 "Say, Pokey," my companion asked in 
 one of those times; "how do you feel when 
 you're disappointed in a man? Does it 
 hurt?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered briefly, speaking from 
 sad experience which was fresh upon my 
 mind. 
 
 "It hurts me, too," he said. "I always 
 like to think well of folks, as long as they 
 give me half a chance. It's lots the best 
 way, don't you know it? But it certainly 
 goes against me to run across such fellows 
 as some of them mangy curs back in Law 
 rence. A Blue Lodge wouldn't have done a 
 trick like that. They're cowards, I know, 
 over in Missouri, but they're a different kind 
 of cowards. They'd fight the best they 
 knew how, anyway; though that ain't 
 much. Look at that young preacher, for
 
 1 86 Sons of Strength 
 
 one, him that tried to scare the captain the 
 other day. I've always expected a preacher, 
 no matter who he was, to take all kinds of 
 chances in this sort of a game. Mebbe that's 
 because I hain't known many preachers. A 
 critter like him makes a pretty picture, don't 
 he? when he stands beside a man like old 
 Brown." 
 
 Then, partly by way of answer, and 
 partly as a means of beguiling the slow min 
 utes, I told him what I knew of Blinky 
 Meade, and of what he had been to me in the 
 olden time, when we were boys together. 
 Archy listened attentively until I had fin 
 ished my story. 
 
 "Say, I didn't want to make you feel 
 bad," he said then. "I reckon I oughtn't to 
 have said that about him." 
 
 Before I could find words for disclaiming 
 the wish to champion Blinky's weakness, I 
 heard the sound of horse's hoofs splashing 
 and floundering in the road behind us. I 
 passed to Archy a quick warning, and we 
 stepped out to the side of the road. There 
 was now ample justification for such pre 
 caution, for we were drawing very near to 
 Franklin, and the light reflected from the
 
 A Private Enterprise 187 
 
 low clouds showed us the roadway and the 
 objects in our course, everything appear 
 ing blurred and shadowy of outline, yet dis 
 tinct enough to warn us that we too might 
 be seen. We stood against a dark background 
 of leafless bushes, waiting in silence until 
 the horseman should pass us. We knew by 
 the sound that there was but one, and we 
 judged from his incautious manner of trav 
 elling that he was a friend of the invaders, 
 or perhaps one of them, and not afraid of 
 discovery. I thought that he must have rid 
 den far, for his horse appeared to be badly 
 jaded, and needed constant urging by whip 
 and spur. All this would not have been 
 cause for remark; but when the rider was 
 nearly abreast of us he broke into a petulant 
 but choicely worded complaint of the horse's 
 lagging, and of his own discomfort. The 
 voice seemed very familiar. Archy noticed 
 this also, and spoke to me under his breath : 
 "Who's that? Somebody from Law 
 rence ! Who do you reckon would be comin' 
 'down here? Say, I'm goin' to see who it 
 is !" And despite my whispered protest, he 
 crept forward warily from our shelter, 
 standing as near to the center of the road as
 
 1 88 Sons of Strength 
 
 he dared, to catch sight of the dim-lit face. 
 He stood motionless until the traveller had 
 gone past and his impatient words were soft 
 ened by distance into a muttered growl. 
 
 "Pokey;" Archy called then, as I went 
 out to join him ; "Who do you think it was? 
 It was the preacher !" 
 
 "Not Blinky Meade?" I asked. 
 
 "Blinky!" Archy echoed. "Blinky! It 
 was him, all right; I saw him fair and 
 square, an' no mistake. What in the world 
 is he doin', comin' down to Franklin?" 
 
 But that was more than I could guess. 
 Surely there could be no public mission so 
 urgent as to demand that a messenger 
 should travel in such wise, and on such a 
 night; and Blinky Meade I knew to be the 
 most unlikely man to thus immolate himself 
 for the general good. The mere fact of its 
 being he was sufficient cause for thinking his 
 purpose a purely personal one. 
 
 "I give it up, Archy," I said. "Come; 
 let's go on. and maybe we'll find out his er 
 rand." 
 
 The peace compromise, and the raw dis 
 comfort of the winter night had leagued 
 themselves together for withdrawing the
 
 A Private Enterprise 189 
 
 pickets theretofore posted on regular duty. 
 In the outskirts of the little town all was 
 dark; for the Free Soil citizens were keep 
 ing in as close seclusion as they could, avoid 
 ing all chance of meeting with the rowdy 
 horde, while the sympathizers of the inva 
 ders were hanging about the large camps 
 maintained by the tramp-army, drinking of 
 the liquor that had been flowing so freely. 
 We had no difficulty in working our way 
 well into the heart of the town. When we 
 were so near to the Missouri encampment 
 that we could distinctly hear the tumult of 
 their rioting, we avoided the thoroughfares, 
 and slunk through alleyways and through 
 vacant lots and wooded places, drawing 
 nearer, little by little, to the wild vortex of 
 drunken brawling which marked the last un 
 comfortable days of that mimic campaign. 
 We were protected by a thick growth of 
 timber when we came within sight of the 
 main camp. It was the merest child's-play, 
 after all, to keep ourselves in hiding while 
 we observed everything that went forward. 
 It was a sorry and bedraggled picture that 
 lay before us. The cold rains had fallen 
 with distressful frequency within the few
 
 190 Sons of Strength 
 
 days preceding the compromise, until men, 
 wagons and food were pitilessly drenched, 
 and the hot blood of those doughty brag 
 garts, which had been boiling with eager 
 ness for battle, was now reduced to such low 
 point of temperature as showed itself in 
 fierce outbreaks of passionate bad temper in 
 each man toward his fellows. They had 
 sought to reduce their discomfort by the use 
 of liberal potations of raw whisky ; but that 
 had only served to stir to greater depths the 
 springs of their ill nature. They had missed 
 their hoped-for fight with us, and they were 
 making up for the loss by fighting valiantly 
 among themselves. The less hardy mem 
 bers of the expedition, or perhaps they 
 were only the less drunken, had returned 
 homeward even before the time of Governor 
 Shannon's intervention. The lot of those 
 who remained was hard, though their lead 
 ers did their best to maintain some outward 
 show of bravery, stimulating and exciting 
 the chilling spirit of the mob by a continued 
 display of the fireworks of passionate ora 
 tory. 
 
 Such an exhibition was in progress when 
 we first looked from our hiding place among
 
 A Private Enterprise 191 
 
 the trees. A great bonfire of logs had been 
 kindled in the open, and was blazing with 
 such vigour as to defy the rain, its glow 
 throwing upon the broad picture myriad 
 eerie effects of high light and dense shadow. 
 Near to the fire stood two small cannon, 
 dripping with moisture at muzzle and 
 breech, which turned into impotence their 
 threatening aspect. Covered wagons were 
 drawn near together in long rows, and some 
 of the canvas wagon-tops had been made 
 into small shelter-tents around the fire. In 
 every possible place of protection the men 
 were clustered thickly, joining their voices 
 in a general chorus of unavailing protest and 
 complaint. Upon the rear step of one of 
 the wagons a rain-soaked orator was holding 
 forth with a fierce array of words, words 
 that lacked all heart and sentiment, that 
 lacked everything save bitterness of feeling 
 toward the hated Free Soilers. The atten 
 tion given to the speaker was wavering and 
 discourteous; for the host was in such con 
 dition that mere words could have little ef 
 fect. Very few of the men would venture 
 from their shelter; they preferred to listen, 
 if they listened at all, from the posts of com-
 
 192 Sons of Strength 
 
 parative comfort under the canvas. Some 
 times the voice of the speaker would be 
 wholly drowned by the rising tide of intoxi 
 cated clamor and quarrelling.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A BETRAYAL AND A RESCUE 
 
 THE fulminating oration was brought to 
 a sudden end. From some place in the dim 
 background a shrill cheer arose over the 
 general medley of sounds, and a half-dozen 
 of men hurried forward into the circle of the 
 firelight, crowding and jostling one another, 
 and talking loudly. They seemed to have 
 their interest centered upon one of their 
 number, whom they urged into a place of 
 prominence at their head. Straining my 
 eyes in the dancing uncertain light, I saw 
 that he was Blinky Meade. The long coat 
 that he wore was spattered and clogged with 
 mud, and every thread of his clothing was 
 dripping wet ; but his face was flushed, and 
 his manner, as he talked with his compan 
 ions, was impetuous and eager. 
 
 When the little company had reached the 
 speaker's wagon, Blinky's companions left 
 him and hurried about among the wagons 
 and tents, from each of which there issued a
 
 1 94 Sons of Strength 
 
 noisy group of men who clustered around 
 Blinky, screaming and shouting as though 
 they sought to do him some rude honour. 
 His mentors soon returned to his side, and 
 lifted him to a place upon the wagon-step 
 which did duty as a rostrum, while the as 
 semblage raised a boisterous demand for a 
 speech. And Blinky showed no hesitation 
 in yielding to their wish. 
 
 "Men !" he began in his solemnly impres 
 sive pulpit manner, as though he thought 
 himself teaching a Godly lesson. "Men! 
 Your leaders have known me in the past, 
 and who I am is not unknown to some of the 
 lowlier among you. I have been called upon 
 to perform a delicate and trying duty in your 
 behalf, and I have had to choose a trying 
 means of coming down to make my report to 
 your worthy leaders, so that they might 
 judge whether I have performed my duty to 
 their satisfaction. And now I want to say 
 a few words in the hearing of yourselves, 
 who are the sinews of this contest for our 
 sacred liberties !" He got no further then, 
 for a mighty cheer went up from the general 
 throat, and it was a long time before such
 
 A Betrayal and a Rescue 195 
 
 order was restored as to allow of his con 
 tinuing. 
 
 "Hear that!" Archy whispered hoarsely 
 in my ear. "Good God! An' that's him 
 that talked to old Brown !" The rest of his 
 whispering was very forceful, formed of 
 words made upon the border ; but it can have 
 no place here ; it was the only speech I ever 
 heard from him which might not be repeated 
 at large. 
 
 We could hear little of what followed 
 from Blinky's lips, so tumultuous was the 
 clamor. I cannot tell what I thought. I 
 knew Blinky so well that I could hardly have 
 justified a hope of finding him better or 
 manlier than he had shown himself to be; 
 and yet I have always been weak enough to 
 hope strongly that good will come upper 
 most in a man, if it has but fair chance. It 
 was not that I disliked having him allied 
 with those who in their turn were allied with 
 wrong. I could freely have allowed him 
 his own choice of opinions, and should have 
 thought none the less of him because those 
 opinions disagreed with my own. I would 
 have had him be honest. I did not believe 
 that his present course was an honest one;
 
 1 96 Sons of Strength 
 
 politic it was, rather, born of a faint-hearted 
 regard for the force of numbers, and of fear 
 for the future. And as I knew that, in that 
 moment all my old love for him died down 
 within me. 
 
 But I had little time then for dwelling 
 upon my disappointment. While he was 
 speaking, suddenly there issued from one of 
 the tents near by a new figure, at sight of 
 whom Archy and I involuntarily started for 
 ward. He made a most melancholy specta 
 cle. He was dishevelled and smoke-grimed, 
 as though his person had received complete 
 neglect during the eventful fortnight. His 
 hair and beard were unkempt and matted, 
 and mud was thick upon him, as though he 
 had made his nightly bed in the soft ooze. 
 With most men those things would have 
 served as disfigurements and disguises; but 
 with him they seemed to render recognition 
 easier, accenting every feature of his low 
 and vile aspect. 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" Archy groaned in hopeless 
 misery. "It's Dad! Look at him! He's 
 drunk ! He's got pretty low down, ain't he ? 
 I've never seen him drunk before, not in all 
 my life." But there could be no doubt of
 
 A Betrayal and a Rescue 197 
 
 his drunkenness: his steps were reeling, his 
 feet slipping helplessly beneath him upon the 
 soft earth, and he grasped wildly at every 
 thing within reach that promised a secure 
 hold. When he stood upon the outer edge of 
 the noisy company, he sought to push him 
 self into the heart of the dense mass ; but he 
 could not; he had to content himself with 
 clinging for support to those who consider 
 ately allowed him a hold of arm or clothing. 
 Whether he had heard something of Blinky 
 Meade's discourse, or whether he formed his 
 drunken judgment upon the attitude of those 
 who were in better position to hear, we could 
 not tell ; but he raised his maudlin voice in a 
 hoarse shout of approval : 
 
 "Good for you, young fellow ! Death and 
 hell-fire for the Abolitionists! That's what 
 I say ! You talk, an' I'll shoot !" His fren 
 zied outburst rose high above the din, and he 
 waved a pistol threateningly above his head, 
 until some one took it from him. Blinky's 
 eyes were turned toward him, while the 
 speech was stopped for a moment. The 
 crowd seemed intolerant of the interruption. 
 A few of those who stood near the old man 
 took hold of him and tried to urge him to go
 
 198 Sons of Strength 
 
 away; but he strongly refused, striking out 
 aimlessly with clenched fists. Then, while 
 I was deeply intent upon the unlovely sight. 
 I heard that Archy gave a sharp gasp, and 
 he clutched fiercely at my arm. 
 
 "Look!" he cried. "There's Mammy!" 
 And when I looked as he pointed, there she 
 was in truth, coming from the tent whence 
 her husband had escaped. Her face, which 
 I remembered as being so full of a dumb 
 warrant for compassion, was now deeply 
 seamed with the marks of suffering, tense 
 and white. She was dressed as on the day I 
 had first seen her, in poor black; but her 
 head was without the protection of her bon 
 net, exposed to the chilling rain. She seemed 
 to have just awakened from sleep ; her eyes 
 were heavy and haggard, and she looked 
 about her in a bewildered and anxious way, 
 as though in quest of something she had 
 missed on waking. 
 
 "'Archy! What can be the matter?" I 
 asked. "This is no place for a woman. 
 What is she doing here?" 
 
 "What's she doin'?" he returned fiercely. 
 "What do you reckon she's doin'? She's 
 lookin' after that worthless old hellyon over
 
 A Betrayal and a Rescue 199 
 
 there; that's what she's doin'." And so it 
 proved; for in a few moments her wander 
 ing eyes found the abject figure, tottering 
 helplessly on the edge of the shrill-yelling 
 concourse. He was receiving no attention, 
 for Blinky's interrupted speech had been re 
 sumed and was better worth attention than 
 a drunken brother in wretchedness. When 
 she saw him she made her way quickly to his 
 side, laying her hands upon his arm, and 
 trying to persuade him to go away with her. 
 In his crazed mood he was rebellious, and 
 struggled as well as he could against her de 
 taining grasp; but his strength was at low 
 ebb; little by little she half forced and half 
 coaxed him toward their tent, supporting 
 his reeling weight upon her slight shoulders. 
 Archy broke into a fierce oath and stepped 
 out of the shadows where we were concealed, 
 I at his side, to be ready in case of need. And 
 the need speedily arose; for the old man's 
 besotted mind resented his wife's interfer 
 ence with his liberty, and as they approached 
 their tent his struggles grew stronger, so 
 that the poor little woman had all she could 
 do in keeping him and herself upright. At 
 last he wrenched his arm from her grasp,
 
 2oo Sons of Strength 
 
 pushing her rudely away, crying out with 
 brute impatience of restraint. The effort 
 made him totter; but he recovered himself, 
 and when she came toward him again, hold 
 ing out her hands in a gesture of pleading, 
 he raised his heavy hand and struck her upon 
 the uncovered head, and she fell backward, 
 her head striking against a wheel of one of 
 the wagons. 
 
 What followed after that seems clear' 
 enough in my memory, until I try to tell of 
 it; then I find that the details are clouded 
 and uncertain, like the details of a dream. I 
 know that Archy and I leaped forward, as 
 though moved by one impulse, caring noth 
 ing where we were going, caring only for 
 the pitiful figure lying quietly where it had 
 fallen. And if the old man thought about 
 the matter afterward, it must have seemed 
 very dreamlike to him, too ; for in an instant 
 after he had struck the cowardly blow, and 
 while he still stood looking down upon the 
 huddled heap that was his wife, and trying 
 to gather his dazed wits together, he was 
 confronted by the towering figure of his son, 
 whose every muscle was rigid with righteous 
 rage, and whose face was ablaze with long
 
 A Betrayal and a Rescue 201 
 
 pent-up hatred. The old man started back, 
 his mud-fouled face full of a sudden terror. 
 Before he had time to think of protecting 
 himself, even if that had been possible, 
 Archy's mighty hands had laid hold of him, 
 had lifted him, struggling helplessly, into 
 the air, and had dashed him upon the ground, 
 where he lay motionless. Then very ten 
 derly, though with all haste, Archy raised 
 the body of his mother in his arms, holding 
 her tight against his breast, and we ran back 
 to the shelter of the trees, going rapidly 
 northward by the path we had travelled a 
 half hour before. 
 
 How it happened I cannot say. A fight 
 may have been no unusual sight there. Per 
 haps we were not seen. The enchantment 
 of Blinky Meade's sounding words may have 
 been a godsend to us, after all, holding the 
 crowd rapt. Certainly if we were seen we 
 must have been thought members of the 
 camp; for had those drink-maddened men 
 suspected that we were interlopers from the 
 hated Lawrence, we could not have escaped 
 as we did. But when we had run for a little 
 distance through the woodland, and paused 
 for a moment to listen for sounds of pursuit,
 
 2O2 Sons of Strength 
 
 we heard nothing more than the usual noises 
 the hum of rough voices, pierced by occa 
 sional shriller outbursts of cheering to mark 
 one of Blinky's telling sentences. 
 
 Archy fell against me, panting and trem 
 bling violently; though that could not have 
 been from physical exertion. I was not in 
 much better plight ; for so does the relaxation 
 after strong excitement work upon a man. 
 
 "Thank God A'mighty we come !" Archy 
 gasped. "Oh if we hadn't come !" 
 
 But our helpless estate did not long con 
 tinue. Too much depended upon our keep 
 ing our wits about us, and our muscles 
 strung for action. I would have taken 
 Archy's burden upon myself for a time, but 
 he would not suffer me to do it. 
 
 "You keep a watch for horses," he said. 
 "Ours are too far away. Horse-stealin' ain't 
 good for the health around these parts, but 
 we'll have to borrow a couple, if we can find 
 'em. Three miles is too far to carry her, an' 
 walkin's too slow." 
 
 Horses were plentiful enough. I soon 
 found a little band which had been tethered 
 upon open land within the town, and I has 
 tily selected the two that seemed best able
 
 A Betrayal and a Rescue 203 
 
 to bear us, and those we pressed into service, 
 improvising bridles from the tether-ropes. 
 Archy wrapped his mother as securely as he 
 could in his outer coat, and when we were 
 mounted his arms were wholly occupied with 
 holding her; so I led his horse beside my 
 own, and in that fashion we rode until we 
 reached the place where our own animals 
 were secreted. Then we mounted, turning 
 the others adrift to find their way back to 
 their owners as best they could.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A REUNION AND A SEPARATION 
 
 ALTHOUGH there was great need for haste, 
 as a means to safety for ourselves, there was 
 still greater need for travelling easily, as a 
 means to the comfort of our charge. She 
 had given no sign of conscious life since 
 Archy lifted her in his arms, though her 
 heart was still beating. Until we should 
 reach a surgeon, we could know nothing of 
 the hurt she had suffered; but to ride hard 
 might do her a still greater hurt. So while 
 Archy did his best to keep her at ease in his 
 arms, I made the best speed I dared with the 
 horses. 
 
 Thus we travelled for two slow hours. It 
 must then have been past midnight ; we could 
 only guess at the time. There had been noth 
 ing to relieve the terrible suspense, save that 
 once, when Archy tried to shift the inert 
 weight of the body in his embrace, to give 
 a little change to his strained and stiffened 
 muscles, we heard a feeble moan escape the
 
 A Reunion and a Separation 205 
 
 pallid lips; and then again Archy breathed 
 a fervent and honest "Thank God!" Even 
 a moan of suffering may be a pleasant sound 
 sometimes. 
 
 We had gone perhaps two-thirds of the 
 way from Franklin to Lawrence when for 
 the second time that night I heard the dis 
 quieting sound of a horse's approach from 
 our rear. And this time also the sound be 
 trayed the fact that he who approached was 
 riding alone. We had not much to fear; 
 which was very fortunate, for we were in 
 a narrow part of the road where we could 
 not have escaped, however formidable the 
 appearance of an attack. I drew my pistol 
 and held it ready for use in my hand, for 
 safety against surprise ; and when the horse 
 man had come so near that I could distin 
 guish his form clearly, I called to him to 
 halt. The demand must have come unex 
 pectedly. The stranger drew rein so sharply 
 that he pulled his beast almost upon its 
 haunches, and ere it had quite recovered its 
 feet, a pistol flashed spitefully in the rider's 
 hand, and my broad hat flew from my head, 
 falling somewhere in the dark road. 
 That was not a time for deliberate thought.
 
 206 Sons of Strength 
 
 On the instant, my pistol answered his, and 
 I saw him fall heavily from his saddle, and 
 heard him strike the mud of the road, while 
 his terrified horse wheeled about and went 
 flying back toward Franklin. Never before 
 had I used a weapon against a man : I was 
 seized with a cold chill of fear, which was 
 not very seemly, perhaps, and which may not 
 be explained to those who have not endured 
 such a moment for themselves. My first im 
 pulse was for wild flight; but Archy quieted 
 my quaking heart. 
 
 '"Get down an' look after him ! What are 
 you settin' there for? He's lyin' still 
 enough : there's nothin' to be afraid of. Get 
 down!" 
 
 I obeyed in a dazed mechanical way. The 
 fallen man lay at full length in the mire, his 
 face upturned, and near the middle of his 
 broad white forehead was the mark of my 
 bullet. The glance that showed me that 
 mark showed me also that the dead man was 
 Blinky Meade. To this time, in those night 
 hours when sleep is delayed, I can see that 
 face of ghastly whiteness, stained with the 
 little ooze of blood from the round bullet- 
 wound.
 
 A Reunion and a Separation 207 
 
 I spoke to Archy calmly, a very unnat 
 ural calm, telling him who thermanwas,and 
 that he was quite dead. There was nothing 
 for me to do but to drag the body to the road 
 side and leave it for after-care. We must go 
 on with our living burden ; we could not take 
 the dead body with us; our horses were al 
 ready overladen. And there we left him, 
 lying upon his back in the mud; Blinky 
 Meade, the brown-eyed boy who had sat 
 with me under the trees in the asylum yard, 
 eating my apples ; Blinky Meade, the strange 
 little fellow who had been used to see visions 
 and interpret them to me; Blinky Meade, 
 who as a man had thought to make a proud 
 place for himself in a proud world. I won 
 dered whether his family of angels had at 
 last become real to him and would care for 
 him. Since that wild night I have never of 
 my own will killed any living creature. 
 
 Archy's mind was not concerned with the 
 dead. "Say!" he said with sudden resolu 
 tion as we took up our interrupted ride; 
 "we'll have to stop at the next house. It's 
 safe enough now, likely, an' we'll save time 
 for her by doin' it. We're gettin' pretty near 
 to Lawrence; they're likely to be friends
 
 208 Sons of Strength 
 
 along here, an' we can get somebody to ride 
 ahead an' fetch a doctor ; then she won't have 
 to stand any more of this infernal joggling." 
 
 We came to a house before long. It was 
 darkened, but in answer to my persistent 
 shouts a cautious light soon appeared, and 
 we learned that we had found friends. We 
 carried the still unconscious body into the 
 house, where the women took it under their 
 care; and a young man, mounted upon a 
 fresh horse, started in hot haste for Law 
 rence, to summon a surgeon and to bear news 
 to John Brown of what had occurred. This 
 last was by Archy's suggestion. 
 
 "Brown '11 know what it means," he said 
 to me. "If if Dad ain't if he comes 
 around all right, so as to be able to talk, some 
 of them fellows'll follow us this morning. 
 They'll be along most any time. Brown '11 
 know that, an' he'll know what to do. He 
 won't leave us alone. You'll see!" Truly 
 his was a wise head, his wit matched to 
 every emergency. Never did I know it to 
 fail him; though that seemed an unlikely 
 thing, judging him by appearances. 
 
 Matched to all emergencies ? To all save 
 one. For when his mother had been re-
 
 A Reunion and a Separation 209 
 
 lieved of her cold drenched clothing and laid 
 in bed, and Archy went to her bedside, there 
 was an emergency beyond his resources. He 
 called to me that I should join him, and 
 when I went in he seemed in sore need of me, 
 for he grasped at my hand like a frightened 
 child, and clung to it as though for sup 
 port. 
 
 "You stay here with me, Pardner," he 
 said. "I can't bear this kind of thing, by 
 myself. Please don't go away." 
 
 It was a trial to unnerve the strongest. 
 The wan worn face lying upon the pillow 
 before us seemed hardly mortal, so frail it 
 was, so overshadowed by a long life full of 
 patient suffering, and so terribly pathetic in 
 its almost lifeless lethargy. The pallid light 
 of our one poor candle cast such strange 
 shadows upon the thin features, while our 
 own shadows upon the wall were so vast and 
 burly. 
 
 "Oh !" the poor son groaned. "My God ! 
 I wish she'd wake up ! Don't she look aw 
 ful?" 
 
 But she was a long time in rising 1 to life's 
 surface. Sometimes she would stir uneasily 
 and her pale lips would move, but no sound
 
 210 Sons of Strength 
 
 came from them. For an unmeasured time 
 we sat, one upon either side of the bed, 
 hardly speaking a word, but waiting for the 
 unknown issue. 
 
 At last, when I had almost abandoned ex 
 pecting it, her sunken eyes came open with a 
 start, as though a sharp sound had aroused 
 her from heavy sleep. Her glance went 
 wildly around the unfamiliar room, to rest 
 at last upon my face ; but she seemed to get 
 no comfort from looking at me, and her 
 eyes were taking on a dull fixed stare when 
 I beckoned to Archy. 
 
 "Speak to her; quick!" I urged; and he 
 bent over, calling softly, "Mammy! Dear 
 old Mammy! Here's your big baby come 
 back." 
 
 No magic so strong as the voice of a loved 
 one, whose softest tone can reach to the 
 greatest depths of the valley of the shadow 
 of death. So did his voice recall her. 
 
 "Archy !" she breathed, and her head was 
 pillowed upon his broad breast, her poor 
 thin hands clinging to his great neck, while 
 his cheek was laid fondly upon her hair. 
 "You've been a weary long time comin',
 
 A Reunion and a Separation 211 
 
 deary," she crooned. "I thought you'd for 
 gotten old Mammy!" 
 
 He could not speak. Words were sunk 
 into the depths of his suffering soul. He 
 could only cling to her, straining her to his 
 side. But after a little silence, she appeared 
 to find memory awakening, for she drew 
 away from him, looking at him with vague 
 doubt; then looking around the room in 
 quest of something she could not see. 
 "Where is he?" she asked weakly. 
 
 "Dad?" Archy answered with brave 
 cheerfulness. "Oh, he's all right, Mammy; 
 don't you worry. He'll come pokin' along 
 pretty soon. You just lie still." And that 
 she was content to do for the present, 
 though I could see that little by little her 
 scattered consciousness returned to her. 
 
 "Archy," she said at last; "nothin' has 
 happened to him?" 
 
 "Everything's all right, Mammy," he re 
 peated; and in her weakened state that was 
 enough to soothe her for a little while. But 
 restless phantoms seemed to rise and haunt 
 her. Slowly, again and again, while she lay 
 against his breast, a mist would settle over 
 her eyes, growing deeper, until she would
 
 212 Sons of Strength 
 
 stir uneasily, striving to cast it off, as one 
 struggles against the overpowering spell of 
 a drowsy drug. 
 
 And a mighty drug was finding its way 
 into her blood ; the mightiest that ever was. 
 By and by she seemed to realize this, for with 
 all her little strength she raised herself in 
 bed, and free from Archy's arms, and sat 
 looking fixedly at him ; then with a helpless 
 wild cry she threw herself upon him, hiding 
 her face. "My baby ! I thank the kind God 
 I have found you before I die. I must tell 
 you now." 
 
 He tried with his gentlest caresses to re 
 store her to quiet ; but she stopped him, hold 
 ing his hands locked fast m her own. "Lis 
 ten!" she cried. "I'll soon be gone, deary; 
 I know it. Don't talk ; you must listen ! It's 
 about your little brother." 
 
 His eyes were imploring me for aid ; but I 
 could give him none. "There, there; don't 
 talk so, Mammy," he pleaded. "Say, don't 
 you remember Pokey, over there? He's 
 been mighty good to me. You remember 
 him, don't you ? the fellow that took me in 
 his wagon?" Briefly she glanced at me,
 
 A Reunion and a Separation 213 
 
 stretching toward me one cold hand, which 
 I clasped and held fast until the end. 
 
 "No !" she said sharply ; "you must listen 
 to me ! You must know ! I have never told 
 you ; but I must tell you now." 
 
 And then, while life ebbed slowly from 
 her, she told him what she sought to tell, 
 speaking not all at once and smoothly, but 
 with broken ragged sentences, and gasping 
 sometimes for breath to form the next word ; 
 told what I have told in the beginning of 
 this story, of the day when I awoke from 
 babyhood, a desolate waif before the gates of 
 the asylum. While she talked I listened 
 with dry lips parted, with heart near burst 
 ing, with the blood roaring in my ears. My 
 thoughts were beyond all power of telling. 
 
 "Archy, my baby!" she breathed at last 
 very faintly; "we were so poor, so starved, 
 and it seemed best. Oh, I can't tell you! 
 And then, when we were no longer hungry, 
 I wasn't sure Dear Archy, I didn't try 
 to find him. I hoped he would grow to be a 
 good man, and I wanted to save him from 
 his father, as I would have saved you, if I 
 could. Oh, my children, my children !" 
 
 That was the last. Her strength failed
 
 214 Sons of Strength 
 
 her utterly, and she sank back shivering 
 upon her pillow. 
 
 '"Mother! My Mother!" I cried from my 
 knees by the bedside. "Here I am ! Look at 
 me! I am your son!" 
 
 Did she hear me? Stronger than any 
 other of my hopes in this life has been the 
 hope that she did hear me, and that she un 
 derstood. I have tried to think that her 
 dear hand, as I bent my throbbing forehead 
 upon it, gave to my own hand a little an 
 swering pressure ; but it may have been only 
 the pulseless rigour of death. When I found 
 the strength to draw myself up to gaze into 
 her face, I saw that the patient gray eyes 
 were already looking upon other scenes than 
 those of this troubled earth. 
 
 And there, while the feeble light of the 
 candle was drowning in the broader light of 
 the gray dawn, Archy and I, kneeling, 
 looked across the body of our peaceful dead 
 into one another's eyes, and the lips of each 
 formed the sacred word, Brother.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS 
 
 LIFE is very strange, a deep and won 
 derful puzzle, past all the power of our poor 
 wits to solve. At the best, we must take so 
 many things for granted; believing, if we 
 can, that our destiny is formed according to 
 God's clear inevitable sight. We think all 
 would be so easy if our days moved forward 
 with smoothness and certainty to an end al 
 ways in our view, as we foolishly dream they 
 might move had we our own will. I have 
 sometimes rebelled bitterly against my utter 
 helplessness and blindness, and have longed 
 to shape things for myself, thinking how 
 strong and sure my life must then be; and 
 sometimes I have been glad that I must walk 
 with all humankind by hidden paths. But it 
 is a test of strength greater than mine to be 
 able to look with calm fortitude into the face 
 of each new day and circumstance and to 
 say to each, God's will be done concerning 
 you. Sometimes God speaks to men out of
 
 2i6 Sons of Strength 
 
 the whirlwind; sometimes He says to the 
 tempest, Peace, be still. I like to believe that 
 if we listen we shall not fail to hear His 
 voice, and shall find that His word is always 
 sweet and just. 
 
 She my dead mother, and he my living 
 brother ; yes, and that other my father ! I 
 could not realize these things; my under 
 standing was obscured by a gloomy fog of 
 doubt. I hid my face in the coverlet of the 
 bed where the body of my mother lay, and 
 was lost in the mazes of wonder and despair. 
 By and by I felt a light touch upon my 
 shoulder, and found that Archy was kneel 
 ing by my side. He was crying, tears of 
 mingled holy sorrow and deep joy shining in 
 his eyes and upon his cheeks, he making no 
 trial to check or hide them. 
 
 "Brother Pokey!" he said softly. "It's 
 just you and me now. We'll have to be a 
 heap to each other, won't we?" With hands 
 clasped and with lips locked by awed silence, 
 we sat together for a long time, while the 
 wintry day broadened. I do not remember 
 what we said, or if we spoke at all. There 
 was no need that we should speak. There 
 come times in life when speech seems only
 
 In the Valley of Shadows 217 
 
 dumb show; when the clasp of a faithful 
 hand or the glance of true eyes is all we ask. 
 Time had no claim upon us as we knelt; 
 time seemed suspended in the vast duration 
 of eternity, save that the gray of dawn was 
 slowly yielding place to white day. 
 
 After a long time I asked, "What shall 
 we do, Archy?" 
 
 "I've been thinking about that," my 
 brother answered me. "I don't know as 
 there's anything to do now, but bury her. 
 You and me can do that. She'd like to have 
 us, I know, just by ourselves, and we'd 
 rather do it, wouldn't we ? I wouldn't want 
 to take her away from here ; would you ? I 
 feel like this place is best, right here where 
 we've all found each other. Don't you feel 
 that?" 
 
 "Yes," I said ; and we arose and set about 
 the simple duties of preparing the poor body 
 for its grave. 
 
 While we were thus busied, there was a 
 sudden commotion of shouts and quick foot 
 steps in the yard without. The door of our 
 room was opened hastily, though with 
 thoughtful quiet, and there entered the 
 young man who had been our messenger to
 
 2 1 8 Sons of Strength 
 
 Lawrence. When he saw the truth, his 
 ruddy face bore honest compassion ; but his 
 present errand would brook no delay of tell 
 ing. 
 
 "They're coming!" he cried. "There's a 
 good many of 'em, not more than a mile 
 away, and they're riding as hard as they can. 
 I saw 'em from the last hill, as I came down. 
 What do you want to do ?" 
 
 We looked at one another, and I saw that 
 Archy had shaken himself free from his 
 softer mood and that his thoughts were 
 moving with certainty. 
 
 "Do you want to hide?" the boy asked. 
 "There's a good place in the ravine out back 
 of the barn-yard, where they'll never find 
 you before Brown gets here with his men. 
 He's coming, right away. He had a dozen 
 of his fellows saddling up when I left Law 
 rence. Or you might ride on up toward Law 
 rence, and meet him coming down. But 
 you'll have to hurry, if that's what you want 
 to do. There's no time to waste thinking 
 about it." 
 
 Archy shook his head in answer to the 
 boy's suggestion. "No," he said. "We'll 
 stay here. We ain't goin' to leave her, are
 
 In the Valley of Shadows 219 
 
 we, Pokey? But we don't want to mix you 
 folks up in our fight, if we can help it. 
 Pokey, where's your pistol?" 
 
 My heavy revolver was belted to my side. 
 Archy drew his own weapon from the pocket 
 of the coat which had been wrapped about 
 our mother. 
 
 "We're all right!" he cried with a light 
 mirthless laugh of nervous excitement. 
 "Come on; let's go out. You folks keep 
 inside, out of sight from the road. They 
 won't be likely to bother you. It's me they 
 want." 
 
 Together we left the house and walked 
 down to the roadside. There was abundant 
 shelter amongst the trees and behind the 
 rude frontier fence, and there we crouched 
 for a time, peering down the road, waiting 
 for the advance of the party from Franklin. 
 
 "It's just you and me now, Pokey," Archy 
 repeated. "It's a funny mix-up, ain't it ? I 
 wish to God I knew what's goin' to happen. 
 No, I don't, either. I'm ready for anything 
 now; but I mightn't be ready if I knew 
 what's comin'. Do you reckon it'll be both 
 of us? If it's got to be one, I hope it'll be 
 both; don't you?" But I thought of Eliza-
 
 22O Sons of Strength 
 
 beth, and my thoughts choked my answer 
 to his question. In that brief moment of 
 self-inquiry, I found that life was still very 
 sweet and dear to me. 
 
 Not a very long time passed before we 
 heard the party approaching, so tell-tale was 
 the muddy road ; and then they appeared in 
 sight, a score of men, bedraggled and 
 wretched, but grimly threatening in aspect, 
 with rifles slung across their saddles, and 
 with smaller arms showing plentifully in 
 each man's belt. They were riding warily, 
 knowing that they were near to Lawrence 
 and in a dangerous neighborhood; though 
 they seemed not to suspect that we were so 
 close at hand, 
 
 As they drew nearer, Archy clutched my 
 wrist fiercely. "There's Dad, right square 
 in front!" he cried. His voice was tense as 
 steel. "Pokey, you've got to keep your 
 hands down till I tell you. It's my first 
 shot !" All his wild instincts had possession 
 of him, and I found myself powerless, 
 though I tried to speak with rational calm. 
 
 "Keep still!" I urged. "They don't ex 
 pect to find us here. Let them go past. 
 They'll go on up the road and meet Brown's
 
 In the Valley of Shadows 221 
 
 party. It would be madness to expose our 
 selves here." But he did not seem to com 
 prehend. 
 
 "Remember, now; it's my first shot! 
 Thank God ! Oh, Dad, Dad; I've got a lot 
 to settle with you! Hands down, Pokey. 
 You got the preacher; it's my turn now." 
 He laid his pistol against a rail of the fence, 
 glancing hungrily along its barrel. 
 
 "Archy!" I pleaded. "Not that way!" 
 
 "Hush !" he said. "Don't you be afraid. 
 I'm goin' to fight fair. I never was much 
 of a sneak, and I ain't goin' to sneak now." 
 
 The horsemen were so near us that 
 Archy 's last words were spoken almost in a 
 whisper. Then, before I could guess what 
 he was about, he arose, vaulted over the 
 fence into the open road, and stood in full 
 view of all. 
 
 The old man drew rein sharply, involun 
 tarily dropping his hand to grasp the pistol 
 which hung in its holster. He was trem 
 bling with an ague of sudden fright; but 
 Archy's hand, as it swung its weapon aloft 
 and dropped the barrel to the level of the old 
 man's breast, was rigid as the brown earth. 
 
 Truly we do walk by hidden paths. In
 
 222 Sons of Strength 
 
 that supreme moment, while the bitter 
 wrongs of his life surged in his heart, 
 Archy proved himself a man. A sharp 
 gasping oath escaped his drawn lips, and his 
 pistol went whirling through the air, falling 
 harmlessly a long way off. 
 
 "You shoot, Dad," he cried. "I'll be 
 damned if I can!" Then he stood firmly 
 awaiting what should befall him. 
 
 If I had been at all afraid, all fear left 
 me at that. For fear, and every other base 
 thing, departs from the heart of a man when 
 he ceases to think of himself ; and as I looked 
 at my brother standing before me with his 
 resolute face turned undaunted toward 
 death, the echo of his heroic cry still in my 
 ears, my every thought was of him. Before 
 I knew it, I was over the fence and by his 
 side, hoping to protect him, though not 
 knowing how that might be accomplished in 
 the face of so many enemies; meaning to 
 die with him, if nothing better offered. 
 
 The old man, our father, how strange it 
 seems to call so foul a creature by that beau 
 tiful name! our father had at last worked 
 his pistol loose from its confining holster, 
 and he now held it in his uplifted hand.
 
 223 
 
 while he gloated upon the presence of the 
 defenseless man before him, and upon the 
 nearness of his revenge. He did not deign 
 to look at me; his eyes were wholly con 
 cerned with Archy. He was quivering with 
 the exultation which thrills a man when he 
 nears the accomplishment of a fixed purpose, 
 good or bad. When he spoke, his voice was 
 vibrant with the same passion, 
 
 "You brat of the devil! I hoped heaven 
 would give me this chance before hell 
 yawned to claim you!" His vile blasphe 
 mies choked his throat and strangled them 
 selves from further utterance. With a fierce 
 gesture he lowered his weapon, taking as 
 careful aim as he could with his nerveless 
 hand. I threw myself before Archy, holding 
 up my arms to make the old man look at 
 me. 
 
 "Wait !" I cried. "Listen to me first ; then 
 shoot if you will." 
 
 When he saw who I was: "You too!" 
 he bellowed in fury. "Stand aside ! I'll kill 
 him first, and you next. Get out of the 
 way!" 
 
 "Listen!" I shouted strenuously. "You 
 must listen, father father! "
 
 224 Sons of Strength 
 
 Ere I could say more, strong hands were 
 laid upon my shoulders and I was swept 
 helplessly aside. "Pokey," Archy said 
 quietly; "don't stain your soul, callin' him 
 that!" 
 
 A sudden commotion of panic seized upon 
 those who had been idle onlookers, and a 
 cry went up, "Look out ! There come the 
 soldiers!" and with the panic fresh upon 
 them those doughty warriors wheeled their 
 horses about in the road and broke into ig 
 nominious disordered flight. Fled, all save 
 one. The old man did not heed ; perhaps he 
 did not hear. He held his horse firmly in 
 check; his levelled pistol flashed, flashed 
 once, twice, and Archy fell heavily against 
 me. 
 
 "Dad! For God's sake!" he gasped. 
 "Shoot straighter! You've killed her; 
 now kill me quick !" 
 
 Something made the old man hear those 
 low words. His face went white as death, 
 his hand fell to his side, and he sank forward 
 in his saddle. 
 
 "Killed her!" he screamed. "Almighty 
 God! Where is she?" 
 
 "Yonder," Archy answered, with life
 
 In the Valley of Shadows 225 
 
 sinking low in his voice, and I silently 
 pointed toward the little house where our 
 mother's body lay. With a groan the 
 wretched man got from his horse and stag 
 gered up the pathway to the door, which he 
 beat open and then vanished within. 
 
 Brown and his men were near. As I lifted 
 Archy away to the side of the road and laid 
 him gently down, they galloped up, Brown 
 himself at the front, and beside him John 
 Hale. 
 
 "Be quick!" was Brown's imperative or 
 der. "What's the meaning of this? Is the 
 man dead?" 
 
 "God knows," I answered sadly ; for con 
 sciousness was gone from Archy's face, and 
 his head lay with a lifeless weight against 
 my breast as I knelt beside him. 
 
 "Quick!" Brown thundered. "Tell me 
 what it means. Who did it?" 
 
 The words leaped to my lips; but there 
 they hung. I knew that if I spoke, justice 
 would be swift and terrible. I thought of 
 what was going forward within the house. 
 She was my mother, and this was my 
 brother clasped in my hungry arms, perhaps 
 with life gone out of him. Yes, truly; but
 
 226 Sons of Strength 
 
 that other was my father. With this wild 
 tumult of thoughts and passions raging in 
 my soul, the words that should betray the 
 murderer would not be spoken. We are 
 troubled over many things. The lightest 
 cloud in summer skies will cast a shadow, 
 and the recurring shadows fret us. But wild 
 whirlwinds and devastating storms are not 
 things of every day. 
 
 The riderless horse, left to take its own 
 unhindered way, and brought to complete 
 weariness by the hard forced journey, lin 
 gered near us in the road, pricking its ears 
 with half-fright, yet heedless of flight. Some 
 of Brown's men espied it. 
 
 "Whose horse is that?" Brown asked; and 
 when I did not answer, he turned toward 
 the house. "They can tell us something in 
 there," he said to Hale. "Come with me." 
 They rode toward the gate; but I arose and 
 barred the way when they would have dis 
 mounted to enter. 
 
 "Gentlemen!" I cried with a firmness 
 which surprised myself; "gentlemen, you 
 must not go in there now. A woman has 
 just died. To go in upon such an errand 
 at this time would be heartless."
 
 In the Valley of Shadows 227 
 
 Brown's eyes were searching my face 
 keenly. "Tell us who shot this man," he 
 said, "and where he has gone. We want 
 him. Our duty is with him, if he is alive, 
 and not with dead women." 
 
 As I looked from one to the other of their 
 stern faces, my answer was slow in coming, 
 and was not very satisfactory to me when it 
 came, for it was only a simulation of the 
 truth. "I cannot tell you where he is," I 
 said; "but you must not go into the house." 
 
 Hale spoke kindly. "I know this man," 
 he said to Brown; and then to me: "Give 
 me your word, Pokey, that he is not in the 
 house, and we'll not go in." 
 
 In an instant my thoughts flashed back 
 to the old days when I was a little child and 
 sat by John Hale's side beneath the trees in 
 the asylum yard, listening while he taught 
 me to speak the truth. I set my back against 
 the closed gate, holding my pistol ready in 
 my hand. 
 
 "No," I said; "I will not tell you that. 
 But you shall not go in. I will kill you first ; 
 or you must kill me. I have found my father, 
 Hale, and I will not give him up to you." 
 
 But such argument could avail nothing
 
 228 Sons of Strength 
 
 against Brown's stern faith, which regarded 
 no earthly ties, which regarded neither 
 death nor life. Without a word he gave 
 his bridle-rein to Hale, then swung himself 
 to the ground and came toward me, his com 
 pelling eyes fixing mine, his lips set grimly. 
 He was unarmed; his weapons he had left 
 in their pockets on his saddle. Yet I could 
 not fire ; my finger upon the trigger was im 
 potent. When he was at arm's-length from 
 me, he held out his hand. 
 
 "Give me that pistol," he said in the tone 
 of a master of men ; and he took it from my 
 unresisting grasp. "You would better look 
 after the needs of that wounded man. Some 
 of my men will help you." Then, at his com 
 mand, three or four of the others followed 
 him to the house. 
 
 They were too late to find him whom they 
 sought. He had escaped from the house and 
 had entered the deep ravine at the rear of 
 the barn-yard. When this was discovered, 
 Brown summoned all his little band for pur 
 suit. I do not know whether their quest 
 was successful ; for none ever offered to tell 
 me, and I have never dared to ask.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 PEACE 
 
 AND now I draw near to the end ; and the 
 end is like a long deep breath of peace and 
 quiet after ardent strife. I am glad that it 
 is so. I have always liked to think that the 
 end of all our mortal struggle and endeavour 
 will come to us softly, tenderly, not as a 
 shrill shout of death swallowed up in vic 
 tory, but as the cool and calm of a summer 
 night after sultry day. Such seems a fit 
 ting end for my story. 
 
 When the bitterness of our conflict was 
 past, and when Brown's men were assem 
 bled for their return to Lawrence, I begged 
 that they would dig the grave for my moth 
 er's body ; and that they did, at a place which 
 I chose within the sheltering woodland near 
 by. Her burial was simple; but if God re 
 gards such things, I know it was acceptable 
 to Him. I think that the memory of that 
 hour must outlast my life itself. The pic 
 ture is strongly before me now, with those
 
 230 Sons of Strength 
 
 stern-lipped men standing uncovered about 
 the grave, while John Brown lifted up his 
 noble face toward heaven and prayed that we 
 who lived might keep until the end our 
 strength for doing our duty, and that we 
 might at last find the sweet peace which had 
 fallen upon the dead. It was very beautiful 
 and very wonderful to me. 
 
 We had borne Archy into the house and 
 laid him upon the bed made vacant by my 
 mother's burial. When Brown left us with 
 his men, there being nothing that he could 
 do to aid us after that, he promised to send 
 a surgeon; and the surgeon came in due 
 time. 
 
 Archy was still alive, and his heart was 
 going on somewhat with its labour. At first 
 the surgeon would not even hint at hope, 
 perhaps with a jealous eye upon his reputa 
 tion for prophecy; but as the slow hours 
 passed and another night drew on toward 
 morning, he ceased to talk of death alone, 
 and began to speak half-willingly of chance 
 for life. Through it all I did not once aban 
 don determination that my brother should 
 live. His mighty mold was in his favour, 
 and as the hours grew into days, he seemed
 
 Peace 231 
 
 to take a firm hold upon the desire to dwell 
 yet a little longer with us who shared his 
 mortality. He was for a long time in that 
 state where a strong man may choose which 
 ever path he will; and by and by he chose 
 that which led him back to life. 
 
 I did not leave his bedside. That was our 
 mutual wish. His grasp upon the tattered 
 threads of vitality seemed to weaken when I 
 was not within range of his faithful eyes. 
 When he would fall wearily asleep, his last 
 glance would be at me ; and when he awoke, 
 his eyes' first quest was for my face bending 
 above him. 
 
 As he grew stronger, I saw that restless 
 ness possessed him. He did his best to keep 
 patient before me; but that hidden desire 
 would arise in his eyes. When I saw that it 
 persisted, and that his recovery was slower 
 therefor, I made out to speak to him about 
 it one day when we were alone. 
 
 "Archy, there's something you want to 
 say. What is it?" 
 
 He would have denied it at first : but that 
 humour did not last. "Yes, there is, Pokey, 
 I ain't satisfied here. I want to get back
 
 232 Sons of Strength 
 
 home. Seems like I can't stay here no 
 longer." 
 
 "Oh, no; not yet," I said. "All our care 
 would go for nothing, if we tried to move 
 you now. You must keep quiet for a long 
 time yet. The surgeon wouldn't hear to 
 your going home." 
 
 "He don't know; neither do you, Pard- 
 ner," Archy answered quietly. "It's some 
 thing I don't dare tell you, neither, just yet. 
 But it's got to be done, old man. I won't 
 get well until it's over. I've been trying to 
 wait, but I can't. Everything's come on me 
 so quick and hard, it seems as if I ain't got 
 strength to lie quiet and wait. I don't sleep 
 much, thinkin' about it. You'll have to do 
 it, Pokey. I would for you, if you wanted 
 it" 
 
 "Can't you tell me what it is?" I asked. 
 "Isn't it something that I could do for you ?" 
 
 He laughed feebly. "No, I reckon not. 
 You'd be too slow ; and you wouldn't do it 
 the way I want. It's something I've got to 
 do for myself. I can't wait. Sometimes 
 I'm afraid you wouldn't do it, even if I asked 
 you. Then, besides, I want to do it myself." 
 
 My strongest promises for the future
 
 Peace 233 
 
 would not soothe him. In some dim way I 
 grasped at what he meant; and guessing 
 that, I could not find word or argument 
 against him. I promised him that I would 
 speak to the surgeon. 
 
 In place of the urgent denial which I ex 
 pected, the surgeon only puckered his heavy 
 brows. "He's restless and uneasy," he said. 
 "That's bad. He ought to be quiet. He's 
 a big strong fellow, and his will's as strong 
 as his body. I don't know ; I won't say yes 
 or no. Chances are about even, any way. 
 You can do as you like." 
 
 That was equivalent to his saying yes. 
 After that, Archy would not hear of further 
 delay. There came soon a clear mild day in 
 our favour, and we made up a bed in the bot 
 tom of a light wagon and set out upon our 
 journey homeward. 
 
 Though we started in the early morning, 
 night had fallen ere we reached our journey's 
 end. But there was a full moon afloat in the 
 cloudless sky, its soft light showing the broad 
 prairie in all its wild winter beauty. When 
 we came within sight of our little group of 
 homely buildings, Archy made me stop the 
 horses and raise his head from its pillow so
 
 234 Sons of Strength 
 
 that he could catch a glimpse of the familiar 
 picture. 
 
 "It looks good, don't it?" he sighed. 
 "When I went away, Pokey, I didn't much 
 care; but now I swear I'm glad to be alive. 
 It's worth a heap to me, gettin' back here 
 again." 
 
 Despite his joy, he was very weak when 
 we had borne him into the house and laid 
 him upon his rude couch; nor did he rest 
 through the night. He tossed and fretted, 
 speaking impatiently of the long delaying of 
 dawn. 
 
 "Unless you sleep, Archy, I shall be sorry 
 we came back now. It wasn't wise, I know. 
 You must sleep," I urged. 
 
 "Oh, shucks!" he said. "I don't need 
 sleep, old man. I'm rested for the rest of 
 my life, if I never get to sleep again. Sleep 
 ain't what it's cracked up to be. I'd rather 
 stay awake and think." 
 
 At the first appearance of weak daylight, 
 I prepared his breakfast ; but his new excite 
 ment would not permit him to eat, though to 
 please me he toyed with his food for a time. 
 
 "Oh, take it away, Pardner," he said in 
 final abandonment of the pretense, "and then
 
 Peace 235 
 
 come and sit down here beside me. I want 
 to talk to you." When I had done as he 
 said, he took my hand in his enfeebled grasp. 
 
 "There's been a lot of things settled since 
 we went away from here, Pokey; ain't 
 there?" he asked softly. "But there's one 
 thing more that ain't settled yet, and I want 
 to ask you about it." He lay still for a little 
 time, stroking my hand with his own, his 
 eyes never wandering from mine, as 
 though he sought a clue for the beginning of 
 his speech. 
 
 "Pokey, you don't know how I feel about 
 things. It 'most scares me sometimes, when 
 I think how things have come out, and how 
 I've got waked up. Suppose things hadn't 
 happened just like they did ; and then But 
 what's the use! They have happened; and 
 that's enough, I reckon. It's enough for 
 me, any way. But I've wondered sometimes 
 what we're goin' to do with ourselves now. 
 It won't do to just go along from one day to 
 the next, like we used to. The days mean 
 something now ; don't they ? and we've got 
 to do something with 'em." 
 
 "Yes," I answered, smiling at his honest 
 earnestness. "Life means something for us
 
 236 Sons of Strength 
 
 now, and we ought to try to make the most 
 of it. But I shouldn't worry. I like to be 
 lieve that the providence that has waked us 
 up will give us waking sight and strength. 
 I don't believe we need be concerned." 
 
 "Yes, I guess that's so," he agreed. "But 
 then, we've got to think about things for our 
 selves, too, as they come along; and there's 
 one thing I can't get quite clear in my head. 
 I can't help worryin' about it some, till it's 
 straightened out. That's what I want to 
 ask you about. Pokey, have you ever felt 
 what love is, love for a real good woman?" 
 
 I had divined what he would say. I felt 
 my cheeks flush red and hot, though a chill 
 seized upon my heart. 
 
 "I know what you mean, Archy," I said. 
 
 He fell again into that tense silence, while 
 he groped for words. "It's funny," he said 
 at last. "I've been wondering and wonder 
 ing, and I can't quite make it out, just 
 what a man's love is, I mean. What do you 
 think, Pokey?" 
 
 I had to turn my eyes away from his ; but 
 I am glad to remember that I spoke with full 
 and perfect honesty in all that followed. 
 
 "I think there's nothing richer or sweeter
 
 Peace 237 
 
 or truer in a good man's life, Archy, than his 
 love. Nothing in his life seems to matter 
 very much, save love and honor. All the 
 other things that keep us so busy are very 
 small in comparison. Love is the man's only 
 passion that is wholly unselfish, at its best. 
 The man's true love for a good woman will 
 make his life strong and broad; and if she 
 loves him, his strong broad life will be easy 
 for him." 
 
 He had listened with straining eagerness. 
 He breathed a long deep sigh. "Yes ; that's 
 about what I've thought, too. A man's 
 right love is bound to be unselfish. But 
 seems like most men look at it as if when 
 they love a woman, there ain't nobody else 
 on earth but just that one man and that one 
 woman. That ain't the way it ought to be, 
 of course. The man's love for the woman 
 ain't all." Then he lay quite still upon his 
 pillow for a time, closing his eyes wearily. 
 
 "Pokey, I ain't bein' quite fair with you," 
 he said at last. "I didn't want to talk about 
 love, by itself; I wanted to ask you about 
 Eliz'beth. You'll tell me true, I know you 
 will ; won't you ?" 
 
 "Yes, Archy," I answered, though my
 
 238 Sons of Strength 
 
 voice seemed to come from a long way off. 
 "What is it about Elizabeth?" I was re 
 solved that I would tell the uttermost truth, 
 if he asked me. 
 
 "Does she love you?" he questioned 
 gently. 
 
 "I do not know. I am even afraid to hope 
 so." 
 
 "Hope so?" he echoed. "But you'd like 
 to hope so, wouldn't you, if you wasn't 
 afraid?" 
 
 "Yes ; I should like to hope so, if my fears 
 would let me." 
 
 "Then you do love her, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes; I love her." 
 
 "As much as you love me, Pardner ?" 
 
 "Yes, as much as I love you. I could not 
 love any one more than that." 
 
 His fingers closed heavily upon mine, and 
 a tear slipped across his cheek to the pillow. 
 "That sounds good," he breathed. "But 
 ain't you ever said anything to her, then? 
 You ain't said anything to each other, so 
 there's any understanding?" 
 
 "No," I answered, when I had thought for 
 a moment. "No; there's nothing between 
 us that we have ever spoken aloud. There is
 
 Peace 239 
 
 nothing beyond what I have felt in my soul ; 
 and I have got but elusive comfort out of 
 that." 
 
 "Do you think when a good man loves a 
 good woman, and there's nothin' to keep him 
 back, he ought to tell her?" he asked slowly. 
 
 It was after a sharp struggle that I spoke 
 calmly. "Yes ; he ought to tell her." 
 
 "If if " His eyes closed again, and 
 when he opened them it was to say what I 
 feared. "Pokey, it's no use. I want you to 
 go and tell her to come here ; will you ? I've 
 got to see her." And I went out to seek her 
 and to do as he asked. 
 
 When she entered the cabin with me, she 
 went quickly to the bedside and sank upon 
 her knees, laying her hand upon his hot fore 
 head. "Archy, Archy !" she said softly ; and 
 that seemed to give him peace. He looked 
 at me directly, and I went out, closing the 
 door after me. 
 
 I had faced death when death seemed 
 something real, and I had not shrunk. But 
 while I paced back and forth without the 
 house, I could hardly summon the fortitude 
 for facing life ; for life must prove a phan 
 tasm and a mockery when I should be
 
 240 Sons of Strength 
 
 brought to the necessity of crushing out the 
 love which had become life's very essence. 
 I knew better then than to feel empty com 
 passionate sympathy for Archy, as for one 
 who merited only pity for the hopelessness 
 of his plight. I knew then that he was far 
 more of a man than I. No doubt Elizabeth 
 had found that out long ago, she being less 
 blind than I; and I knew her to be one of 
 those rare women who can value manhood 
 at its real worth. It was a bitter struggle; 
 but as my troubled thoughts filled the slow 
 minutes of waiting, I made up my mind to 
 let things be as they were shaping them 
 selves. For my brother's sake I would do 
 that; yes, and for Elizabeth's sake, too. I 
 loved them both, and perfect love must be 
 able to bear even the supreme test of renun 
 ciation. 
 
 When this thought had become fixed in 
 my heart, I tried to think calmly and clearly 
 of the life before me. There would no doubt 
 be many ways for filling in the days and 
 years, if years should be mine. I wished 
 that my mother might have lived. There 
 was no reasonable hope that our border war 
 fare was yet at an end; I would take my
 
 Peace 241 
 
 place with the fighters, and might yet find 
 chance for doing something worthy of a 
 man. I even tried to persuade myself that I 
 should find happiness in seeing the fruition 
 of the happiness of those who were so dear 
 to me, and that I might thereby be led to 
 contentment; but that was an empty pre 
 tense, as I soon saw, being honest with my 
 self. Happy contentment must choose its 
 own paths when it comes to us; we cannot 
 force it to tread ways of our making. 
 
 What passed in the cabin during those 
 minutes I never knew. After a long time 
 Elizabeth came to the door and beckoned me 
 in. When I entered she was standing by the 
 bedside, and tenderly stroking Archy's hair 
 from his forehead. His eyes were shining 
 with joy. I could not bring myself to the 
 point of looking at her, though I stood across 
 from her, taking Archy's hand in mine and 
 trying to let him feel that my heart was right 
 toward him. 
 
 "It's all right, old man," he said ; and then 
 upon quick impulse I looked at Elizabeth and 
 saw that her cheeks were flushed crimson. 
 Archy turned his glance to her face also, and 
 he laughed in that old familiar boyish way.
 
 242 Sons of Strength 
 
 "I can't help it, Eliz'beth," he cried gaily. 
 "I never was much of a mummy. I can't 
 keep still. This old clam Pokey wouldn't 
 ever find out, without somebody to help 
 him." He had clasped her wrist, and though 
 she strove to withdraw it he held it firmly, 
 with a new strength in his grasp. "No, you 
 don't!" he said. "Oh, Eliz'beth; what's 
 the use? Just us three!" Before I knew 
 what he was about, he had brought the girl's 
 hand to meet mine. 
 
 "There !" he cried gleefully. "That's the 
 way it ought to be, when two people love 
 each other. Don't mind me, Pokey; tell 
 her. You know you've got to humour a sick 
 man, and I want to hear you say it."
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 
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