THE VIGILANTES
The weeks immediately following the Christmas holidays were always
hard ones at St. Helen’s. This year was no exception to the experience
of every other year. The weather was cold and snowy, the girls were
homesick, or, as was too often the case, half ill and listless from
too many sweets and too much gayety during the vacation. Lessons were
often poorly learned or not learned at all. In short, the St. Helen’s
faculty dreaded January, and the St. Helen’s girls hated it.
“It’s the worst month in the whole year,” remarked Priscilla, standing
by her window one Saturday afternoon, and watching a cold northeast
storm whirl the snow-flakes from a gray, forbidding sky. “January’s
the out-of-sorts month, and every one in this whole school is
out-of-sorts, too. I wish it were Christmas over again!”
“So do I,” said Virginia from the other window.
Virginia had just caught the out-of-sorts epidemic. For a week at
least after her return from Vermont, the memory of her own joyous
Christmas had kept her happy. It had been such a lovely two weeks! She
and her grandmother had grown to be such good friends. Virginia
actually dared believe that her grandmother did not now disapprove of
her in the least. She and Aunt Nan had had such a happy, jolly
vacation; and even the Rev. Samuel Baxter had been most gracious, not
once mentioning Korean missions or the sale of Bibles. But even
memories were not proof against a general atmosphere of discontent,
and she was beginning to be infected.
“There goes Dorothy in all this snow,” announced Priscilla a moment
later. “She’s carrying books, too. Where’s she going, I wonder?”
She rapped on the window. Dorothy either did not hear or did not
choose to. The latter would be more thoroughly in keeping with her
January disposition.
“I know. She’s failed in geometry every day since we came back, and
has to take private lessons with Miss Wells. Of course she didn’t tell
me, but I know she’s failed because she’s in my division. Bess Shepard
told me yesterday that Dorothy was going to take lessons with her of
Miss Wells in the afternoon. Bess was sick, you know, and she’s making
up lost time. That’s how I know.”
Priscilla turned suddenly from the window and sat down on the couch.
“Virginia,” she said, “I’m desperately worried about Dorothy. It isn’t
being untrue to her to talk with you about her, because you are her
friend, too. She isn’t a bit the way she was last year. She doesn’t
seem to care about lots of things the way she did then and when she
was at our house this summer. Don’t you think she’s different from
what she was even in September?”
Virginia left the window and sat beside her roommate.
“Yes,” she said, “she is different. She laughs at things now that she
didn’t then; and she seems to be afraid of taking sides about things.
I mean, whether anything’s fair or not. She never likes to say what
she thinks any more, like she used to.”
“That’s Imogene. I think it’s almost all Imogene.” Priscilla’s voice
was lowered to a whisper. “Dorothy likes Imogene because she has such
a don’t-care way about things, and because she has so much money, and
dresses better than any girl in school, though _I_ think her clothes
are a sight! Mother thought Dorothy was different when she was here
Thanksgiving. She noticed it. I wish Imogene Meredith had never come
here!”
Virginia’s voice was also lowered. “She doesn’t give Vivian a chance
either. I think Vivian’s dear and sweet; but Imogene makes her do
everything she says, and poor Vivian’s so easily influenced, she does
it. You know what I’m thinking about especially?”
Priscilla nodded. She knew. They were both thinking of the “Flood,” as
St. Helen’s now termed it, and of how Imogene had tried to shift the
blame from her own shoulders on those of poor Vivian and unconscious
Virginia.
“Of course I know. I told you then ’twas just like her. And Dorothy
knew about that, too. I’m sure she did! She’s so quiet whenever it’s
mentioned, and looks ashamed. And lately Dorothy’s even been teasing
Vivian, just as Imogene does, about that silly Leslie, who always
gives Vivian extra large cakes at the ‘Forget-me-not.’ Oh, dear! I
don’t suppose there’s anything I can do, but it worries me. Dorothy’s
my best friend along with you, and I don’t want her to grow like
Imogene. Can you keep a secret if I tell you one?”
“Of course, I can.”
“Well, Dorothy visited Imogene at Christmas time. Not the whole
vacation, because she spent most of it with her aunt in New York. You
know, her mother is dead, and her father is in California most of the
time, so she spends vacations with her aunt. She was there for a week
and a half, and then she went to Albany and visited Imogene, and that
is why they came back together. They were late, too, because they
stayed for a party Imogene gave. And the thing I mind most is that
Dorothy never told she’d been there at all, just as though it were a
secret. Only Vivian was at the party, and she mentioned it just as
though I knew. Mother asked Dorothy to come home with me—mother feels
sorry that she hasn’t really any family like ours—but Dorothy said her
aunt wasn’t going to let her go anywhere this vacation. It isn’t that
I minded her not coming to us, you know, but I don’t like to have her
so much with Imogene, and, besides, I can’t see why they keep it so
secret.”
Priscilla finished, troubled. Virginia was troubled, too, for she
loved Dorothy, even though of late Dorothy had not seemed to care so
much for her. She remembered the day she had first seen Priscilla and
Dorothy at the station, and Dorothy’s resolutions in regard to grades.
“Dorothy hasn’t gotten all _A’s_ the way she planned in September, has
she?”
“I think she had _B’s_ on her fall card, because she was ashamed of
it, and wouldn’t show it to mother at Thanksgiving. I know she hasn’t
done so well in class as she did last year. Miss Wallace and Miss
Allan have reproved her more than once. And you know the house-meeting
we had when Mary said The Hermitage couldn’t win the scholarship cup
away from Hathaway unless some of us who were getting _B’s_, got _A’s_
for a change? Well, Dorothy just cut Mary for two days after that, and
she isn’t nice to her now. It does seem too bad when we’ve decided to
try extra hard for the cup that Imogene and Dorothy pull us down. Even
Vivian’s been getting _A’s_, and Lucile’s doing better all the time,
isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is. Even in English she’s really trying; and she’s fine in
French and Latin and geometry. Do you think Dorothy likes Miss Wallace
as much as she used?”
“That’s Imogene again. She called Miss Wallace Dorothy’s ‘idol’ all
the fall in that sneering way she has, and now Dorothy acts ashamed to
show she loves Miss Wallace. She doesn’t go to see her the way she did
last year. Last year, if she were troubled about anything, she went
right to Miss Wallace. Oh, dear, what shall we do?”
Virginia did not answer for a moment. She was thinking.
“Isn’t life queer?” she said at last thoughtfully. “It all goes
crooked when you most want it to go straight. But I have an idea,
Priscilla. Let’s be Vigilantes!”
“Vi-gi-lan-tes! What’s that?”
“Why, don’t you know about the Vigilantes? No, I don’t suppose you do.
Even Miss Wallace didn’t till I told her. Why, the Vigilantes were
brave men in the early days when the Pioneers were just going into
Montana and Wyoming and the other States out there. You see, when they
discovered that those States had such rich lands for wheat, and hills
for cattle, and gold mines—especially the gold—people just flocked
there by thousands. And, of course, there were many thieves and
cutthroats and lawless men who went, too, and they just became the
terror of the country.
“They rode swift horses, and they knew all the passes in the
mountains. When they heard a train of men and horses was coming from
the mines, they would lie in wait in the mountains and come down upon
them, steal their gold and horses and murder any who resisted. It
wasn’t safe to take any journeys in those days.”
“Well, but why did the people allow it? Why weren’t they arrested?”
Priscilla in her interest had forgotten all about being out-of-sorts.
“Why, you see the people couldn’t help it at first. The country was so
very new that law hadn’t been made. The government did send judges out
there; but there were so many lawless men that they threatened even
the judges; and, besides, these robbers were perfectly wonderful
shots, and they would scare the people so terribly that they were glad
to get away with their lives.
“But by and by things grew so bad, and so many innocent persons who
dared oppose the robbers were shot down, that some men banded
together, and called themselves the Vigilantes. They pledged
themselves to watch out for evil-doers, to stand for fair play, and to
put a stop to robbery and murder. Of course, it was very hard at
first, and many of the Vigilantes lost their lives; but pretty soon
other bands were formed in the other towns, and they kept on, no
matter how discouraged they were at times. They used to post signs on
the roads that led to towns; and sometimes they would draw in red
chalk on a cliff or even on the paving in town, warning the robbers
and murderers that if they came into that place they would be
captured.”
“What did they do if they captured them?”
“They most usually hung them to a tree. The big tall cottonwoods out
there are called ‘gallows trees,’ because they used to hang so many to
their branches. It seems wicked now, of course,” Virginia explained,
seeing the horror on Priscilla’s face, “to kill them like
that—sometimes even without a trial. But really, Priscilla, they
couldn’t do anything else in order to save the good people from
danger.”
“No, of course, they couldn’t. Mustn’t it have been exciting?”
“Exciting? I rather think it was exciting! Jim used to tell me about
it. There was one place in Montana named Virginia City where there
were many of the Vigilantes. You see, there were very rich gold mines
there, and that meant there were lawless men, too. Jim was there once,
and he could remember some of the Vigilantes. He said there was one
awful man who had killed scores of persons, and who was the terror of
the whole country. And the strangest part of it was, he was
nice-looking and talked like a gentleman. The Vigilantes watched for
him for ten years before they got him.”
“Did they hang him from a cottonwood, too?”
“Yes; and Jim said when they had put the rope around his neck, and
were just going to lead his horse from under him he burst out laughing
at them all, and said, ‘Good-by, boys. I’m mighty sorry I can’t tell
you by and by how it feels to be hung. It’s the only Western
experience I’ve never enjoyed.’”
“After all he certainly was brave to die like that, laughing. He had
Margaret of Salisbury’s spirit. I always loved her, especially when
she said if they wanted her head they must take it with her standing.
Virginia, you know more thrilling stories than any one I ever knew. It
just makes me wild to go away out there and visit you. Do you suppose
I ever shall?”
“Yes, I just know you’re coming. I shouldn’t wonder if this very next
summer. I feel it inside me. We can be Vigilantes for sure out there.
That’s just where they belong. But don’t you think we could be sort of
Vigilantes here—standing as they did for fair play and ”—she lowered
her voice “watching out for evil-doers?”
Priscilla was enthusiastic over the idea. It seemed so different and
original. Besides, it really did mean something to try to stand for
fair play, and to watch out for anything—any evil influence, for
example—that might harm those you loved.
“We’ll especially try to see that Vivian isn’t so easily influenced,”
Virginia whispered, “and we’ll try our best to help Dorothy to be like
she used to be. Only they mustn’t know we’re trying. That would spoil
it all.”
“Shall we ask any one else to join?” asked Priscilla.
“We might ask Mary. She’s really a Vigilante anyway, being a monitor.”
“Suppose we tell her about it, and ask her to be adviser. You see,
where she’s monitor, she can’t take sides just as we can, and maybe
she’d think she’d better not join. It’s going to be a Secret
Organization, isn’t it?”
“Oh, of course. Secret things always seem more important. Let’s draw
up the constitution this minute. I like to feel settled.”
Pen and ink were found, and within fifteen minutes the composition of
the organization was complete, Virginia being the Thomas Jefferson of
the occasion.
“I’ll read it aloud,” said the author, “so that we can tell if it
sounds right.
“‘We, the undersigned, on this 20th day of a sad January, do
hereby announce in the sacred presence of each other, that we
are Vigilantes of St. Helen’s. We are bound by our honor as
friends and room-mates to secrecy, and to an earnest
performance of our work as true Vigilantes. We deplore the
evil influence of —— ——, and we promise to strive to off-set
that influence especially in regard to —— —— and —— ——. We are
going to try to stand at all times for fair play, and real
friendship. We appoint —— —— as our trusted adviser. At
present we are the sole members of the Vigilante Order.
“‘Signed
“‘Priscilla Alden Winthrop.
”‘Virginia Webster Hunter.’
“I put blanks instead of names,” explained Virginia, signing her name
after Priscilla. “It seems more like an organization some way, and,
besides, we understand. Now, we are real Vigilantes, Priscilla.”
They shook hands solemnly. The paper was sealed with an extravagant
amount of sealing wax, and stuffed with much secrecy into a rent of
Virginia’s mattress. Then the two Vigilantes, feeling much revived in
spirits, invited the disconsolate Vivian to join them, and went for a
walk in the snow.