IN WHICH ABE AND SAMSON WRESTLE AND SOME RAIDERS COME TO BURN AND STAY TO
REPENT
Within a week after their return the election came off and Abe was
defeated, although in his precinct two hundred and twenty-seven out of a
total of three hundred votes had been cast for him. He began to consider
which way to turn. He thought seriously of the trade of the blacksmith
which many advised. Burns and Shakespeare, who had been with him in
recent vicissitudes seemed to disagree with him. Jack Kelso, who had
welcomed the returning warriors in the cheery fashion of old, vigorously
opposed his trying "to force the gates of fortune with the strong arm."
They were far more likely to yield, he said, to a well trained intellect
of which mighty sinews were a poor tool but a good setting. Moreover,
Major John T. Stuart--a lawyer of Springfield--who had been his comrade
in the "war" had encouraged him to study law and, further, had offered to
lend him books. So he looked for an occupation which would give him
leisure for study. Offut, his former employer, had failed and cleared
out. The young giant regarded thoughtfully the scanty opportunities of
the village. He could hurl his great strength into the ax-head and make
a good living but he had learned that such a use of it gave him a better
appetite for sleep than study.
John McNeil, who for a short time had shared his military adventures, had
become a partner of Samuel Hill in a store larger and better stocked than
any the village had known. But Hill and McNeil had no need of a clerk.
Rowan Herndon and William Berry--he of the morning-glory shirt--had
opened a general store. Mr. Herndon offered to sell his interest to Abe
and take notes for his pay. It was not a proposition that promised
anything but loss. The community was small and there were three other
stores and there was no other "Bill" Berry, who was given to drink and
dreams as Abe knew. He was never offensive. Drink begat in Bill Berry a
benevolent form of intemperance. It imparted to him a feeling of pity for
the human race and a deep sense of obligation to it. In his cups he
acquired a notable generosity and politeness. In the words of Jack Kelso
he was then "as placid as a mill pond and as full of reflection." He had
many friends and no one had questioned his honesty.
Abe Lincoln had not been trained to weigh the consequences of a business
enterprise. The store would give him leisure for study and New Salem
could offer him nothing else save consuming toil with the axe or the saw.
He could not think of leaving the little cabin village. There were Ann
Rutledge and Jack Kelso and Samson Traylor and Harry Needles. Every
ladder climber in the village and on the plain around it was his friend.
Upon these people who knew and respected him Abe Lincoln based his hopes.
Among them he had found his vision and failure had not diminished or
dimmed it. He would try again for a place in which he could serve them
and if he could learn to serve Sangamon County he could learn to serve
the state and, possibly, even the Republic. With this thought and a
rather poor regard for his own interest his name fell into bad company
on the sign board of Berry and Lincoln. Before he took his place in the
store he walked to Springfield and borrowed a law book from his friend
Major Stuart.
The career of the firm began on a hot day late in August with Bill Berry
smoking his pipe in a chair on the little veranda of the store and Abe
Lincoln sprawled in the shade of a tree that partly overhung its roof,
reading a law book. The latter was collarless and without coat or
waistcoat. His feet were in yarn socks and heavy cloth slippers. Mr.
Berry was looking intently at nothing. He was also thinking of nothing
with a devotion worthy of the noblest cause. No breeze touched the mill
pond of his consciousness. He would have said that he "had his traps set
for an idea and was watching them." Generally he was watching his traps
with a look of dreamy contemplation. He, too, wore no coat or waistcoat.
His calico shirt was decorated with diminutive roses in pink ink. His
ready tied necktie was very red and fastened on his collar button with an
elastic loop. A nugget of free gold which, he loved to explain, had come
from the Rocky Mountains and had ten dollars' worth of the root of evil
in it, adorned his shirt-front--dangling from a pin bar on a tiny chain.
The face of Mr. Berry suddenly assumed a look of animation. A small,
yellow dog which had been lying in repose beside him rose and growled,
his hair rising, and with a little cry of alarm and astonishment fled
under the store.
"Here comes Steve Nuckles on his old mare with a lion following him,"
said Berry.
Abe closed his book and rose and looked at the approaching minister and
his big dog.
"If we ain't careful we'll git prayed for plenty," said Berry.
"If the customers don't come faster I reckon we'll need it," said Abe.
"Howdy," said the minister as he stopped at the hitching bar, dismounted
and tied his mare. "Don't be skeered o' this 'ere dog. He were tied when
I left home but he chawed his rope an' come a'ter me. I reckon if nobody
feeds him he'll patter back to-night."
"He's a whopper!" said Abe.
"He's the masteris' dog I ever did see," said the minister, a tall, lank,
brawny, dark-skinned man with gray eyes, sandy whiskers on the point of
his chin, and clothes worn and faded. "Any plug tobaccer?"
"A back load of it," said Berry, going into the store to wait on the
minister.
When they came out the latter carved off a corner of the plug with his
jack-knife, put it into his mouth and sat down on the door-step.
"Mr. Nuckles, how did you happen to become a minister?" Abe asked.
"Well, sur, I done had a dream," said the Reverend Mr. Nuckles, as he
clasped his hands over a knee and chewed vigorously. "I done dreamt that
I had swallered a double wagon and that the tongue o' the wagon were
stickin' out o' my mouth. It were a cur'ous dream an' I cain't tell what
you'd make of it, but I done tuk it for a sign that my tongue were to be
used on the gospel."
"It shows that a man who can swaller a wagon can swaller anything," said
Abe. "But I'm glad you took it for a sign. You've done a lot of good in
this country. I've seen you out in all weather and you've made over many
a man and broke and bitted some of the wildest colts on the prairie."
"I jes' keep watch an' when ol' Satan comes snoopin' eround I'm right
thar to ketch holt an' flop him. It done come to pass frequent I've laid
it on till he were jest a hollerin' fer mercy. Where do Samson Traylor
live?"
Abe took him to the road and pointed the way.
"There be goin' to be a raid," said Nuckles. "I reckon, by all I've
heard, it'll come on to-night."
"A raid! Who's going to be raided?" Abe asked.
"Them Traylor folks. A lady done tol' me yesterday. Soon as ever I got
her soul saved she blabbed it. Thar be a St. Louis man name o' Biggs,
done stirred up the folks from Missourey and Tennessee on the south road
'bout the Yankee who holps the niggers out o' bondage. Them folks'd have
slavery in this here county if they could. They be right hot I reckon. A
stranger done been goin' eround with whisky in his bags startin' a band
o' regulators. Held a meetin' las' Sunday. They be goin' to do some
regulatin' to-night. Ol' Satan'll break loose. Ef you don't wa'ch out
they'll come over an' burn his house sartin."
"We'll watch out," said Abe. "They don't know Traylor. He's one of the
best men in this country."
"I've heered he were a he man an' a right powerful, God-fearin' man,"
said the minister.
"He's one of the best men that ever came to this country and any one that
wants to try his strength is welcome to; I don't," said Abe. "Are you
going over there?"
"I were goin' to warn 'em an' holp 'em ef I cain."
"Well, go on, but don't stir 'em up," Abe cautioned him. "Don't say a
word about the raid. I'll be over there with some other fellers soon
after sundown. We'll just tell 'em it's a he party come over for a
story-tellin' an' a rassle. I reckon we'll have some fun. Ride on over
and take supper with 'em. They're worth knowing."
In a few minutes the minister mounted his horse and rode away followed by
his big dog.
"If I was you I wouldn't go," said Berry.
"Why not?"
"It'll hurt trade. Let the rest of Traylor's friends go over. There's
enough of 'em."
"We must all stand as one man for law and order," said Abe. "If we don't
there won't be any."
As soon as Abe had had his supper he went from house to house and asked
the men to come to his store for a piece of important business. When they
had come he told them what was in the wind. Soon after that hour Abe and
Philemon Morris, and Alexander Ferguson, and Martin Waddell and Robert
Johnson and Joshua Miller and Jack Kelso and Samuel Hill and John McNeil
set out for the Traylor cabin. Doctors Allen and Regnier and James
Rutledge and John Cameron and Isaac Gollaher, being older men, were
requested to remain in the village and to use their guns, if necessary,
to prevent a demonstration there. Samson greeted the party with a look
of surprise.
"Have you come out to hang me?" he asked.
"No just to hang around ye," said Abe.
"This time it's a heart warmin'," Jack Kelso averred. "We left our wives
at home so that we could pay our compliments to Mrs. Traylor without
reserve knowing you to be a man above jealousy."
"It's what we call a he party on the prairies," said Ferguson. "For one
thing I wanted to see Abe and the minister have a rassle."
The Reverend Stephen Nuckles stood in front of the door with Sarah and
Harry and the children. He was a famous wrestler. Forthwith he playfully
jumped into the air clapping his heels together three times before he
touched the ground.
"I cain't rassle like I used to could but I be willin' to give ye a try,
Abe," said the minister.
"You'd better save your strength for ol' Satan," said Abe.
"Go on, Abe," the others urged. "Give him a try."
Abe modestly stepped forward. In the last year he had grown less inclined
to that kind of fun. The men took hold of each other, collar and elbow.
They parried with their feet for an instant. Suddenly Abe's long right
leg caught itself behind the left knee of the minister. It was the hip
lock as they called it those days. Once secured the stronger man was
almost sure to prevail and quickly. The sturdy circuit rider stood
against it for a second until Abe sprang his bow. Then the heels of the
former flew upward and his body came down to the grass, back first.
"That ar done popped my wind bag," said the minister as he got up.
"Call in," said John McNeil and the others echoed it.
"I call you," said the minister turning to McNeil.
"McNeil!" the onlookers called.
The stalwart young Irishman stepped forward and said:
"I don't mind measuring my length on the grass."
This he did in less than half a moment. As the young man rose from the
grass he said:
"I call in Samson Traylot."
At last the thing which had long been a subject of talk and argument in
the stores and houses of New Salem was about to come to pass--a trial of
strength and agility between the two great lions of Sangamon County.
Either of them would have given a month's work to avoid it.
"I reckon we better begin our story-tellin'," said Abe.
"I think so too," Samson declared. "It's purty dusk now."
"A rassle--a rassle," their neighbors shouted.
"I'd rather give ten bushel o' wheat than miss seein' you fellers take
hold o' each other," said Alexander Ferguson.
"I would too," said Martin Waddell.
So it happened that these friendly giants, each dreading the ordeal,
faced each other for a contest.
"Now we shall see which is the son of Peleus and which the son of
Telemon," Kelso shouted.
"How shall we rassle?" Samson asked.
"I don't care," said Abe.
"Rough and tumble," Ferguson proposed.
Both men agreed. They bent low intently watching each other, their great
hands outreaching. They stood braced for a second and suddenly both
sprang forward. Their shoulders came together with a thud. It was like
two big bison bulls hurling their weight in the first shock of battle.
For a breath each bore with all his strength and then closed with his
adversary. Each had an under hold with one arm, the other hooked around a
shoulder. Samson lifted Abe from his feet but the latter with tremendous
efforts loosened the hold of the Vermonter, and regained the turf. They
struggled across the dooryard, the ground trembling beneath their feet.
They went against the side of the house shaking it with the force of
their impact. Samson had broken the grip of one of Abe's hands and now
had his feet in the air again but the young giant clung to hip and
shoulder and wriggled back to his foothold. Those lesser men were
thrilled and a little frightened by the mighty struggle. Knowing the
strength of the wrestlers they felt a fear of broken bones. Each had torn
a rent in the coat of the other. If they kept on there was danger that
both would be stripped. The children had begun to cry. Sarah begged the
struggling men to stop and they obeyed her.
"If any of you fellers think that's fun you can have my place," said Abe.
"Samson, I declare you elected the strongest man in this county. You've
got the muscle of a grizzly bear. I'm glad to be quit o' ye."
"It ain't a fair election, Abe," Samson laughed. "If you were rassling
for the right you could flop me. This little brush was nothing. Your
heart wasn't in it, and by thunder, Abe! when it comes to havin' fun
I rather guess we'd both do better to let each other alone."
"'Tain't exactly good amusement, not for us," Abe agreed.
It was growing dark. Ann Rutledge arrived on her pony, and called Abe
aside and told him that the raiders were in the village and were breaking
the windows of Radford's store because he had refused to sell them
liquor.
"Have they any guns with them?" Abe asked.
"No," Ann answered.
"Don't say anything about it," Abe cautioned her.
"Just go into the house with Sarah Traylor and sit down and have a good
visit. We'll look after the raiders."
Then Abe told Samson what was up. The men concealed themselves in some
bushes by the roadside while the minister sat close against an end of the
house with his blood hound beside him. Before they were settled in their
places they heard the regulators coming. The horses of the latter were
walking as they approached. Not a sound came from the men who rode them.
They proceeded to the grove just beyond the cabin and hitched their
horses. There were eight men in the party according to Abe's count as
they passed. The men, in concealment, hurried to the cabin and surrounded
it, crouched against the walls. In a moment they could see a big spot,
blacker than the darkness, moving toward them. It was the massed raiders.
They came on with the stealth of a cat nearing its prey. A lion-like roar
broke the silence. The blood hound leaped forward. The waiting men sprang
to their feet and charged. The raiders turned and ran, pell mell, in a
panic toward their horses. Suddenly the darkness seemed to fill with
moving figures. One of the fleeing men, whose coat tails the dog had
seized, was yelling for help. The minister rescued him and the dog went
on roaring after the others. When the New Salemites got to the edge of
the grove they could hear a number of regulators climbing into the tree
tops. Samson had a man in each hand; Abe had another, while Harry Needles
and Alexander Ferguson were in possession of the man whom the dog had
captured. The minister was out in the grove with his blood hound that was
barking and growling under a tree. Jack Kelso arrived with a lantern. One
of Samson's captives began swearing and struggling to get away. Samson
gave him a little shake and bade him be quiet. The man uttered a cry of
fear and pain and offered no more resistance. Stephen Nuckles came out
of the grove.
"The rest o' that ar party done gone up-stairs to roost," said the
minister. "I reckon my dog'll keep 'em thar. We better jest tote these
men inter the house an' have a prayin' bee. I've got a right smart good
chanct, now, to whop ol' Satan."
They moved the raiders' horses. Then the party--save Harry Needles, who
stayed in the grove to keep watch--took its captives into the cabin.
"You set here with this gun and if any o' them tries to get away you take
a crack at him," said Samson, as they were leaving, in a voice intended
for the men in the tree-tops.
The men and the four dejected raiders crowded into the cabin.
Sarah, who had heard the disturbance and wondered what it meant, met them
at the door with a look of alarm.
"These men came to do us harm," Samson said to Sarah. "They are good
fellows but they got an idea in their heads that we are bad folks. I hear
that young Mr. Biggs set them up against us. Let's give them a bite to
eat the first thing we do."
They took a look at the captives. Three of them were boys from eighteen
to twenty years of age. The other was a lanky, bearded Tennessean some
forty years old. One of the young lads had hurt his hand in the evening's
frolic. Blood was dripping from it. The four sat silent and fearful and
ashamed.
Sarah made tea and put it with meat and milk and doughnuts and bread and
butter on the table for them. Samson washed and bandaged the boy's wound.
The captives ate as if they were hungry while the minister went out to
feed his dog. When the men had finished eating Samson offered them
tobacco. The oldest man filled his pipe and lighted it with a coal. Not
one of the captives had said a word until this tall Tennessean remarked
after his pipe was going:
"Thankee, mister. You done been right good to us."
"Who told you to come here?" Samson demanded.
"'Twere a man from St. Louis. He done said you hated the South an' were
holpin' niggers to run away."
"And he offered to pay you to come here and burn this house and run
Traylor out of the county, didn't he?" Abe asked.
"He did--yes, suh--he suah did," answered the man--like a child in his
ignorance and simplicity.
"I thought so," Abe rejoined. "You tackled a big job, my friend. Did you
know that every one of you could be sent to prison for a term of years
and I've a good mind to see that you go there. You men have got to begin
right now to behave yourselves mighty proper or you'll begin to sup
sorrow."
Stephen Nuckles returned as Abe was speaking.
"You jest leave 'em to me, Mr. Lincoln," he said. "These be good men but
ol' Satan done got his hooks on 'em. Mis' Traylor, ef you don't mind I be
goin' to do a job o' prayin' right now. Men, you jest git down on yo'
knees right hyar along o' me."
The men and the minister knelt on the puncheon floor while the latter
prayed long and loudly for the saving of their souls. Every one who heard
it felt the simple, moving eloquence of the prayer. Kelso said that
Christ's love of men was in it. When the prayer was ended the minister
asked permission to go with the raiders to the barn and spend the night
with them. Of this curious event Samson wrote in his diary:
* * * * *
"Of what was done in the barn I have no knowledge but when Nuckles came
back to the house with them in the morning the minister said that they
had come into the fold and that he would promise for them that they would
be good citizens in the future. They got their breakfast, fed and watered
their horses and rode away. We found five men up in the tree-tops and the
dog on watch. The minister went out and preached to them for about half
an hour and then prayed for their souls. When that was over he said:
"'Now, boys, be you ready to accept Christ and a good breakfast? If not
you'll have to git a new grip on yer pews an' set right thar while I
preach another sermon. Thar ain't nary one of us goin' to break our fast
till you're willin' to be saved.'
"They caved in.
"'I couldn't stan' another sermon no how,' said one in a sorrowful voice.
'I feel like a wownded bird. Send up a charge o' buck shot if you keer
to, but don't preach no more sermons to me. It's jest a waste o' breath.
I reckon we're all on the monah's bench.'
"When they had come down out of the tree-tops not one of them could stand
on his legs for a little while."
* * * * *
The gentleman of the sorrowful voice and the broken spirit said:
"'Pears like I'll have to be tuk down an' put together again."
They were meek and sore when they limped to the cabin and washed on the
stand by the doorside and went in to breakfast. After they had eaten the
minister prayed some more and rode away with them.
It is recorded later in the diary that the rude Shepherd of the prairies
worked with these men on their farms for weeks until he had them wonted
to the fold.