THE SPREAD OF DISORDER
Flett spent a bitter night, keeping an unavailing watch among the
willows where a lonely trail dipped into a ravine. Not a sound broke
the stillness of the white prairie, and realizing that the men he
wished to surprise had taken another path, he left his hiding-place
shortly before daylight. He was almost too cold and stiff to mount;
but as his hands and feet tingled painfully, it was evident that they
had escaped frostbite, and that was something to be thankful for.
Reaching an outlying farm, he breakfasted and rested a while, after
which he rode on to the Indian reservation, where he found signs of
recent trouble. A man to whom he was at first refused access lay with
a badly battered face in a shack which stood beside a few acres of
roughly broken land; another man suffering from what looked like an ax
wound sat huddled in dirty blankets in a teepee. It was obvious that a
fight, which Flett suspected was the result of a drunken orgy, had been
in progress not long before; but he could find no liquor nor any man
actually under its influence, though the appearance of several
suggested that they were recovering from a debauch. He discovered,
however, in a poplar thicket the hide of a steer, from which a recent
breeze had swept its covering of snow. This was a serious matter, and
though the brand had been removed, Flett identified the skin as having
belonged to an animal reported to him as missing.
He had now, when dusk was approaching, two charges of assault and one
of cattle-killing to make, and it would not be prudent to remain upon
the reservation during the night with anybody he arrested. The Indians
were in a sullen, threatening mood; it was difficult to extract any
information, and Flett was alone. He was, however, not to be daunted
by angry looks or ominous mutterings, and by persistently questioning
the injured men he learned enough to warrant his making two arrests;
though he decided that the matter of the hide must be dropped for the
present.
It was in a state of nervous tension that he mounted and drove his
prisoners on a few paces in front of him. If he could get them into
the open, he thought he would be safe, but the reservation was, for the
most part, a tract of brush and bluff, pierced by ravines, among which
he half expected an attempt would be made to facilitate their escape.
For all that, he was, so far as appearances went, very calm and grim
when he set out, and his prisoners, being ahead, did not notice that he
searched each taller patch of brush they entered with apprehensive
glances. Nor did they see his hand drop to his pistol-butt when
something moved in the bushes as they went down the side of a dark
declivity.
There was, however, no interference, and he felt more confident when he
rode out into the moonlight which flooded the glittering prairie. Here
he could deal with any unfavorable developments; but it was several
leagues to the nearest shelter, and the Indians did not seem inclined
to travel fast. The half-frozen constable would gladly have walked,
only that he felt more master of the situation upon his horse. Mile
after mile, they crossed the vast white waste, without a word being
spoken, except when the shivering man sternly bade his prisoners, "Get
on!"
Hand-cuffed as they were, he dare not relax his vigilance nor let them
fall back too near him; and he had spent the previous night in the
bitter frost. At times he felt painfully drowsy, but he had learned to
overcome most bodily weaknesses, and his eyes only left the dark,
plodding figures in front of him when he swept a searching glance
across the plain. Nothing moved on it, and only the soft crunch of
snow broke the dreary silence. At last, a cluster of low buildings
rose out of the waste, and soon afterward Flett got down with
difficulty and demanded shelter. The rudely awakened farmer gave him
the use of his kitchen, in which a stove was burning; and while the
Indians went to sleep on the floor, Flett, choosing an uncomfortable
upright chair, lighted his pipe and sat down to keep another vigil.
When dawn broke, his eyes were still open, though his face was a little
haggard and very weary.
He obtained a conviction for assault; but, as the charges of
cattle-killing and being in possession of liquor had to be dropped,
this was small consolation. It left the men he considered responsible
absolutely untouched.
Afterward, he played a part in other somewhat similar affairs, for
offenses were rapidly becoming more numerous among both Indians and
mean whites; but in spite of his efforts the gang he suspected managed
to evade the grip of the law. Flett, however, was far from despairing;
he waited his time and watched.
While he did so, spring came, unusually early. A warm west wind swept
the snow away and for a week or two the softened prairie was almost
impassable to vehicles. Then the wind veered to the northwest with
bright sunshine, the soil began to dry, and George set out on a visit
to Brandon where he had some business to transact.
Reaching Sage Butte in the afternoon, he found it suffering from the
effects of the thaw. A swollen creek had converted the ground on one
side of the track into a shallow lake; the front street resembled a
muskeg, furrowed deep by sinking wheels. The vehicles outside the
hotels were covered with sticky mire; the high, plank sidewalks were
slippery with it, and foot passengers when forced to leave them sank
far up their long boots; one or two of the stores were almost cut off
by the pools. It rained between gleams of sunshine, and masses of dark
cloud rolled by above the dripping town and wet prairie, which had
turned a dingy gray.
As he was proceeding along one sidewalk, George met Hardie, and it
struck him that the man was looking dejected and worn.
"Will you come back with me and wait for supper?" he asked. "I'd be
glad of a talk."
"I think not," said George. "You're on the far side of the town and
there are two streets to cross; you see, I'm going to Brandon, and I'll
take enough gumbo into the cars with me, as it is. Then my train
leaves in half an hour. I suppose I mustn't ask you to come into the
Queen's?"
"No," said the clergyman. "Our old guard won't tolerate the smallest
compromise with the enemy, and there's a good deal to be said for their
point of view. After all, half-measures have seldom much result; a man
must be one thing or another. But we might try the new waiting-room at
the station."
The little room proved to be dry and comparatively clean, besides being
furnished with nicely made and comfortable seats. Leaning back in one
near the stove, George turned to his companion.
"How are things going round here?" he asked.
"Very much as I expected; we tried and failed to apply a check in time,
and of late we have had a regular outbreak of lawlessness. At first
sight, it's curious, considering that three-fourths of the inhabitants
of the district are steady, industrious folk, and a proportion of the
rest are capable of being useful citizens."
"Then how do you account for the disorder?"
Hardie looked thoughtful.
"I suppose we all have a tendency to follow a lead, which is often
useful in an organized state of society; though it depends on the lead.
By way of counter-balance, we have a certain impatience of restraint.
Granting this, you can see that when the general tone of a place is one
of sobriety and order, people who have not much love for either find it
more or less easy to conform. But, if you set them a different
example, one that slackens restrictions instead of imposing them,
they'll follow it, and it somehow seems to be the rule that the
turbulent element exerts the stronger influence. Anyway, it becomes
the more prominent. You hear of the fellow who steals a horse in a
daring manner; the man who quietly goes on with his plowing excites no
notice."
"One must agree with that," George replied. "Popular feeling's fickle;
a constant standard is needed to adjust it by."
Hardie smiled.
"It was given us long ago. But I can't believe that there's much
general sympathy with these troublesome fellows. What I complain of is
popular apathy; nobody feels it his business to interfere; though this
state of things can't continue. The patience of respectable people
will wear out; and then one can look for drastic developments."
"In the meanwhile, the other crowd are having their fling."
Hardie nodded.
"That's unfortunately true, though the lawbreakers have now and then
come off second-best. A few days ago, Wilkie, the station-agent, was
sitting in his office when a man who had some grievance against the
railroad walked up to the window. Wilkie told him he must send his
claim to Winnipeg, and the fellow retorted that he would have
satisfaction right away out of the agent's hide. With that, he climbed
in through the window; and I must confess to a feeling of satisfaction
when I heard that he left the station in need of medical assistance. A
week earlier, Taunton, of the store, was walking home along the track
in the dark after collecting some of his accounts, when a man jumped
out from behind a stock of ties with a pistol and demanded his wallet.
Taunton, taken by surprise, produced a wad of bills, but the thief was
a little too eager or careless in seizing them, for Taunton grabbed the
pistol and got his money back. After that, he marched the man three
miles along the track and into his store. I don't know what happened
then, but I heard that there were traces of a pretty lively scuffle."
George laughed, but his companion continued more gravely:
"Then we have had a number of small disturbances when the men from the
new link line came into town--they've graded the track to within a few
miles now--and I hold Beamish responsible; they haven't encouraged
these fellows at the Queen's. In fact, I mean to walk over and try to
get a few words with them as soon as I leave you."
"One would hardly think Saturday evening a very good time," George
commented.
His train came in shortly afterward, and when it had gone Hardie went
home for a rubber coat, and then took the trail leading out of the
settlement. He was forced to trudge through the tangled grass beside
it because the soft gumbo soil stuck to his boots in great black lumps,
and the patches of dwarf brush through which he must smash made
progress laborious. After a while, however, he saw a long trail of
black smoke ahead, and sounds of distant activity grew steadily louder.
There was an angry red glare on the western horizon, though the light
was beginning to fade, when he reached the end of the new line and
found a crowd of men distributing piles of gravel and spiking down the
rails which ran back, gleaming in the sunset, lurid, straight and
level, across the expanse of grass, until they were lost in the shadowy
mass of a bluff. Near the men stood a few jaded teams and miry wagons;
farther on a row of freight-cars occupied a side-track, a little smoke
rising from the stacks on the roofs of one or two. Their doors were
open, and on passing, Hardie noticed the dirty blue blankets and the
litter of wet clothing in the rude bunks. As he approached the last
car, which served as store and office, a man sprang down upon the line.
He wore wet long boots and an old rubber coat stained with soil, but
there was a stamp of authority upon his bronzed face.
"How are you getting on, Mr. Farren?" Hardie inquired.
"Slowly," said the other; "can't catch up on schedule contract time.
We've had rain and heavy soil ever since we began. The boys have been
giving me some trouble, too."
"You won't mind my having a few words with them?"
"Why, no," said Farren. "Guess they need it; but I'm most afraid
you'll be wasting time. The Scandinavians, who're quiet enough and
might agree with you, can't understand, and it's quite likely that the
crowd you want to get at won't listen. Anyway, you can try it after
they've dubbed the load off the gravel train; she's coming now."
He pointed toward a smear of smoke that trailed away across the
prairie. It grew rapidly blacker and nearer, and presently a grimy
locomotive with a long string of clattering cars behind it came down
the uneven track. It had hardly stopped when the sides of the low cars
dropped, and a plow moved forward from one to another, hurling off
masses of gravel that fell with a roar. Then the train, backing out,
came to a standstill again, and a swarm of men became busy about the
line. Dusk was falling, but the blaze of the great electric light on
the locomotive streamed along the track. While Hardie stood watching,
half a dozen men dropped their tools and walked up to his companion.
"We're through with our lot," announced one. "We're going to the Butte
and we'll trouble you for a sub of two dollars a man."
"You won't get it," said Farren shortly. "I want the ties laid on the
next load."
"Then you can send somebody else to fix them. We're doing more than we
booked for."
"You're getting paid for it."
"Shucks!" said the other contemptuously. "What we want is an evening
at the Butte; and we're going to have it! Hand over the two dollars."
"No, sir," said Farren. "I've given in once or twice and I've got no
work out of you for most two days afterward. You can quit tie-laying,
if you insist; but you'll get no money until pay-day."
One of the men pulled out his watch.
"Boys," he said, "if we stop here talking, there won't be much time
left for a jag when we make the Butte. Are you going to let him bluff
you?"
The growl from the others was ominous. They had been working long
hours at high pressure in the rain, and had suffered in temper. One of
them strode forward and grasped Farren's shoulder.
"Now," he demanded, "hand out! It's our money."
There was only one course open to Farren. His position was not an easy
one, and if he yielded, his authority would be gone.
His left arm shot out and the man went down with a crash. Then the
others closed with him and a savage struggle began.
Hardie laid hold of a man who had picked up an iron bar, and managed to
wrest it from him, but another struck him violently on the head, and he
had a very indistinct idea of what went on during the next minute or
two. There was a struggling knot of men pressed against the side of
the car, but it broke up when more figures came running up and one man
cried out sharply as he was struck by a heavy lump of gravel. Then
Hardie found himself kneeling beside Farren, who lay senseless near the
wheels with the blood running down his set white face. Behind him
stood the panting locomotive engineer, trying to hold back the growing
crowd.
"Looks pretty bad," he said. "What's to be done with him?"
"We had better get him into his bunk," directed Hardie. "Then I'll
make for the Butte as fast as I can and bring the doctor out."
"It would take two hours," objected the engineer, as he gently removed
Farren's hat. "Strikes me as a mighty ugly gash; the thing must be
looked to right away. If I let her go, throttle wide, we ought to make
Carson in half an hour, and they've a smart doctor there." He said
something to his fireman and added: "Get hold; we'll take him along."
It looked as if the outbreak had not met with general approval, for a
number of the bystanders offered their help and the injured man was
carefully carried to the locomotive.
"I'll run the cars along as far as the gravel pit; then I can book the
journey," the engineer said to Hardie. "But as I can't get off at the
other end, you'll have to come along."
Hardie wondered how he would get back, but that was not a matter of
great consequence, though he had to preach at Sage Butte in the
morning, and he climbed up when Farren had been lifted into the cab.
Then he sat down on the floor plates and rested the unconscious man's
head and shoulders against his knees as the engine began to rock
furiously. Nothing was said for a while; the uproar made by the
banging cars would have rendered speech inaudible, but when they had
been left behind, the engineer looked at Hardie.
"In a general way, it's not the thing to interfere in a row with a
boss," he said. "Still, four to two, with two more watching out for a
chance to butt in, is pretty steep odds, and Farren's a straight man.
I felt quite good when I hit one of those fellows with a big lump of
gravel."
Hardie could understand his sensations and did not rebuke him. So far
as his experience went, the western locomotive crews were of an
excellent type, and he was willing to admit that there were occasions
when the indignation of an honest man might be expressed in vigorous
action.
"It was really four to one, which makes the odds heavier," he said.
"I guess not," rejoined the engineer with a smile. "You were laying
into one of them pretty lively as I ran up."
Hardie felt a little disconcerted. Having been partly dazed by the
blow he had received, he had no clear recollection of the part he had
taken in the scrimmage, though he had been conscious of burning anger
when Farren was struck down. It was, however, difficult to believe
that the engineer had been mistaken, because the locomotive lamp had
lighted the track brilliantly.
"Anyway, one of them put his mark on you," resumed his companion. "Did
you notice it, Pete?"
"Sure," said the grinning fireman; "big lump on his right cheek." He
fumbled in a box and handed a tool to Hardie. "Better hold that
spanner to it, if you're going to preach to-morrow. But how's Farren?"
"No sign of consciousness. The sooner we can get him into a doctor's
hands, the better."
"Stir her up," ordered the engineer, and nodded when his comrade swung
back the fire-door and hurled in coal. Then he turned to Hardie.
"We're losing no time. She's running to beat the Imperial Limited
clip, and the track's not worked down yet into its bed."
Hardie, looking about for a few moments, thought the speed could not
safely be increased. There was a scream of wind about the cab, though
when he had stood upon the track the air had been almost still; a
bluff, which he knew was a large one, leaped up, hung over the line,
and rushed away behind; the great engine was rocking and jolting so
that he could hardly maintain his position, and the fireman shuffled
about with the erratic motion. Then Hardie busied himself trying to
protect Farren from the shaking, until the scream of the whistle broke
through the confused sounds and the pace diminished. The bell began to
toll, and, rising to his feet, Hardie saw a cluster of lights flitting
back toward him. Shortly afterward they stopped beside a half-built
row of elevators.
"Guess you'll have to be back to-morrow," the engineer said.
Hardie nodded.
"I've been rather worried about it. It would take me all night to
walk."
"That's so," agreed the other. "All you have to do is to see Farren
safe in the doctor's hands and leave the rest to me. I've got to have
some water, for one thing." He turned to his fireman. "We'll put in
that new journal babbit; she's not running sweet."
The clergyman was inclined to believe that the repair was not strictly
needed, though it would account for a delay; but one or two of the
station hands had reached the engine and, following instructions, they
lifted Farren down, and wheeled him on a baggage truck to the doctor's
house. The doctor seemed to have no doubt of the man's recovery but
said that he must not be moved again for a day or two; and Hardie went
back to the station, reassured and less troubled than he had been for
some time. The attitude of the engineer, fireman, and construction
gang, was encouraging. It confirmed his belief that the lawless
element was tolerated rather than regarded with sympathy, and the
patience of the remainder of the community would become exhausted
before long. Though he admitted the influence of a bad example, he had
firm faith in the rank and file.