IN WHICH ABE RETURNS FROM VANDALIA AND IS ENGAGED TO ANN, AND THREE
INTERESTING SLAVES ARRIVE AT THE HOME OF SAMSON TRAYLOR, WHO, WITH HARRY
NEEDLES, HAS AN ADVENTURE OF MUCH IMPORTANCE ON THE UNDERGROUND ROAD.
Again spring had come. The great meadows were awake and full of color.
Late in April their green floor was oversown with golden blossoms lying
close to the warming breast of the earth. Then came the braver flowers of
May lifting their heads to the sunlight in the lengthening grasses--red
and white and pink and blue--and over all the bird songs. They seemed to
voice the joy in the heart of man. Sarah Traylor used to say that the
beauty of the spring more than paid for the loneliness of the winter.
Abe came back from the Legislature to resume his duties as postmaster and
surveyor. The evening of his arrival he went to see Ann. The girl was in
poor health. She had had no news of McNamar since January. Her spirit
seemed to be broken. They walked together up and down the deserted street
of the little village that evening. Abe told her of his life in Vandalia
and of his hopes and plans.
"My greatest hope is that you will feel that you can put up with me," he
said. "I would try to learn how to make you happy. I think if you would
help me a little I could do it."
"I don't think I am worth having," the girl answered. "I feel like a
little old woman these days."
"It seems to me that you are the only one in the world worth having,"
said Abe.
"If you want me to, I will marry you, Abe," said she. "I can not say that
I love you, but my mother and father say that I would learn to love you,
and sometimes I think it is true. I really want to love you."
They were on the bluff that overlooked the river and the deserted mill.
They were quite alone looking down at the moonlit plains. A broken sigh
came from the lips of the tall young man. He wiped his eyes with his
handkerchief. He took her hand in both of his and pressed it against his
breast and looked down into her face and said:
"I wish I could tell you what is in my heart. There are things this
tongue of mine could say, but not that. I shall show you, but I shall
not try to tell you. Words are good enough for politics and even for the
religion of most men, but not for this love I feel. Only in my life shall
I try to express it."
He held her hand as they walked on in silence for a moment.
"About a year from now we can be married," he said. "I shall be able to
take care of you then, I think. Meanwhile we will all help you to take
care of yourself. You don't look well."
She kissed his cheek and he kissed hers when they parted at the door of
the tavern.
"I am sure I shall love you," she whispered.
"Those are the best words that ever came to my ears," he answered, and
left her with a solemn sense of his commitment.
Soon after that Abe went to the north line of the county to do some
surveying, and on his return, in the last week of May, came out for a
talk with the Traylors.
"I've been up to the Kelsos' home and had a wonderful talk with him and
Brimstead," said Abe. "They have discovered each other. Kelso lives in a
glorious past and Brimstead in a golden future. They're both poets. Kelso
is translating the odes of Pindar. Brimstead is constructing the future
of Illinois. They laugh at each other and so create a fairly agreeable
present."
"Did you see Annabel?" Harry asked.
"About sixty times a minute while I was there. So pretty you can't help
looking at her. She's coming down to visit Ann, I hope. If you don't see
her every day she's here, I shall lose my good opinion of you. It will be
a sure sign that your eyes don't know how, to enjoy themselves."
"We shall all see her and fall in love with her, too, probably," said
Sarah.
"She's made on the right pattern of the best material," Abe went on.
"She's full of fun and I thought it would be a great thing for Ann. She
hasn't had any one to play with of her own age and standing since Bim
went away. I was thinking of Harry, too. He needs somebody to play with."
"Much obliged!" the young man exclaimed. "I was thinking that I'd have to
take a trip to Hopedale, myself."
"I knew he'd come around," Sarah laughed.
But all unknown to these good people, the divinities were at that moment
very busy.
That was the 26th of May, 1835, a date of much importance in the calendar
of the Traylors. It had been a clear, warm day, followed by a cloudless,
starry night, with a chilly breeze blowing. Between eleven and twelve
o'clock Sarah and Samson were awakened by the hoot of an owl in the
dooryard. In a moment they heard three taps on a window-pane. They knew
what it meant. Both got out of bed and into their clothes as quickly as
possible. Samson lighted a candle and put some wood on the fire. Then he
opened the door with the candle in his hand. A stalwart, good-looking
mulatto man, with a smooth shaven face, stood in the doorway.
"Is the coast clear?" he whispered.
"All clear," Samson answered, in a low tone.
"I'll be back in a minute," said the negro, as he disappeared in the
darkness, returning presently with two women, both very black. They sat
down in the dim light of the cabin.
"Are you hungry?" Sarah asked.
"We have had only a little bread and butter to-day, madame," said the
mulatto, whose speech and manners were like those of an educated white
man of the South.
"I'll get you something," said Sarah, as she opened the cupboard.
"I think we had better not stop to eat now, madame," said the negro. "We
will be followed and they may reach here any minute."
Harry, who had been awakened by the arrival of the strangers, came down
the ladder.
"These are fugitive slaves on their way north," said Samson. "Take them
out to the stack. I'll bring some food in a few minutes."
Harry conducted them to their hiding-place, and when they had entered it,
he brought a ladder and opened the top of the stack. A hooped shaft in
the middle of it led to a point near its top and provided ventilation.
Then he crawled in at the entrance, through which Samson passed a pail
of food, a jug of water and some buffalo hides. Harry sat with them for
a few moments in the black darkness of the stack room to learn whence
they had come and whither they wished to go.
"We are from St. Louis, suh," the mulatto answered. "We are on our way to
Canada. Our next station is the house of John Peasley, in Tazewell
County."
"Do you know a man of the name of Eliphalet Biggs who lives in St.
Louis?" Harry asked.
"Yes, suh; I see him often, suh," the negro answered.
"What kind of a man is he?"
"Good when he is sober, suh, but a brute when he is drunk."
"Is he cruel to his wife?"
"He beats her with a whip, suh."
"My God!" Harry exclaimed. "Why don't she leave him?"
"She has left him, suh. She is staying with a friend. It has been hard
for her to get away. She has been a slave, too."
Harry's voice trembled with emotion when he answered:
"I am sure that none of her friends knew how she was being treated."
"I suppose that she was hoping an' praying, suh, that he would change."
"I think that one of us will take you to Peasley's to-morrow night," said
Harry. "Meanwhile I hope you get a good rest."
With that he left them, filled the mouth of the cave with hay and went
into the house. There he told his good friends of what he had heard.
"I shall go down to St. Louis," he said. "I read in the paper that there
was a boat Monday."
"The first thing to do is to go to bed," said Sarah. "There's not much
left of the night."
They went to bed, but the young man could not sleep. Bim had possession
of his heart again. In a kind of half sleep he got the notion that she
was sitting by his bedside and trying to comfort him. Then he thought
that he heard her singing in the sweet voice of old:
"Come sit yourself down
With me on the ground
On this bank where the primroses grow.
We will hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale,
As she sings in the valleys below,
As she sings in the valleys below."
He roused himself and thought that he saw her form receding in the
darkness.
Fortunately, the spring's work was finished and there was not much to be
done next day. Samson went to "Colonel" Lukins' cabin and arranged with
him and his wife to come and stay with Sarah and made other preparations
for the journey to the north. Soon after nightfall they put their guests
on a small load of hay, so that they could quickly cover themselves if
necessary, and set out for Peasley's farm. As they rode along Samson had
a frank talk with Harry.
"I think you ought to get over being in love with Bim," he said.
"I've told myself that a dozen times, but it don't do any good," said the
boy.
"She's another man's wife and you have no right to love her."
"She's another man's slave, and I can't stand the thought of it," Harry
answered. "If she was happy I could mind my business and get over
thinking of her, by and by, maybe, but now she needs a friend, if she
ever did, and I intend to do what I can for her."
"Of course, we'll all do what we can for her," said Samson. "But you must
get over being in love with a married woman."
"If a man's sister were in such trouble, I think he'd have the right to
help her, and she's more than a sister to me."
"I'll stand with you on the sister platform," said Samson.
In the middle of the night they stopped by a stream of water to feed the
horses and take a bite of luncheon. The roads were heavy from recent
rains and daylight came before they could make their destination. At
sunrise they stopped to give their horses a moment to rest. In the
distance they could see Brimstead's house and the harrowed fields around
it. The women were lying covered by the hay; the man was sitting up and
looking back down the road.
"They're coming," he exclaimed, suddenly, as he got under the hay.
Samson and Harry could see horsemen following at a gallop half a mile or
so down the road. It looked like trouble, for at that hour men were not
likely to be abroad in the saddle and riding fast on any usual errand.
Our friends hurried their team and got to Brimstead's door ahead of the
horsemen. A grove of trees screened the wagon from the view of the latter
for a moment. Henry Brimstead stood in the open door.
"Take these slaves into the house and get them out of sight as quick as
you can," said Samson. "There's going to be a quarrel here in a minute."
The slaves slid off the load and ran into the house.
This was all accomplished in a few seconds. The team started on toward
Peasley's farm as if nothing had happened, with Harry and Samson standing
on the load. In a moment they saw, to their astonishment, Biggs and a
colored servant coming at a slow trot. Were the slaves they carried the
property of Biggs?
"Stop that wagon," the latter shouted.
Samson kept on, turning out a little to let them pass.
"Stop or we'll shoot your horses," Biggs demanded.
"They'll have to pass close to the load," Harry whispered. "I'll jump on
behind Biggs as he goes by."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Harry sprang off the load,
catching Biggs's shoulders and landing squarely on the rump of his horse.
It was a rough minute that followed. The horse leaped and reared and
Biggs lost his seat, and he and Harry rolled to the ground and into a
fence corner, while the horse ran up the road, with the pistols in their
holsters on his back. They rose and fought until Harry, being quicker and
stronger, got the best of it. The slaver was severely punished. The
negro's horse, frightened by the first move in the fracas, had turned and
run back down the road.
Biggs swore bitterly at the two Yankees.
"I'll have you dirty suckers arrested if there's any law in this state,"
he declared, as he stood leaning against the fence, with an eye badly
swollen and blood streaming from his nose.
"I suppose you can do it," said Samson. "But first let's see if we can
find your horse. I think I saw him turn in at the house above."
Samson drove the team, while Biggs and Harry walked up the road in
silence. The negro followed in the saddle. Peasley had caught Biggs's
horse and was standing at the roadside.
"I want to find a Justice of the Peace," said Biggs.
"There's one at the next house above. I'll send my boy for him," Peasley
answered.
The Justice arrived in a few minutes and Biggs lodged a complaint founded
on the allegation that his slaves were concealed in the hay on Samson's
wagon. The hay was removed and no slaves were discovered.
"I suppose they left my niggers at the house below," said Biggs as he
mounted his horse and, with his companion, started at a gallop in the
direction of Brimstead's. Samson remained with Peasley and the Justice.
"You had better go down and see what happens," he said to Harry. "We'll
follow you in a few minutes."
So Harry walked down to Brimstead's.
He found the square house in a condition of panic. Biggs and his helper
had discovered the mulatto and his wife hiding in the barn. The negroes
and the children were crying. Mrs. Brimstead met Harry outside the door.
"What are we to do?" she asked, tearfully.
"Just keep cool," said Harry. "Father Traylor and Mr. Peasley will be
here soon."
Biggs and his companion came out of the door with Brimstead.
"We will take the niggers to the river and put them on a boat," Biggs was
saying.
His face and shirt and bosom were smeared with blood. He asked Mrs.
Brimstead for a basin of water and a towel. The good woman took him to
the washstand and supplied his needs.
In a few moments Samson and Peasley arrived, with the latter's team
hitched to a Conestoga wagon.
"Well, you've found them, have you?" Peasley asked.
"They were here, as I thought," said Biggs.
"Well, the Justice says we must surrender the negroes and take them to
the nearest landing for you. We've come to do it."
"It's better treatment than I expected," Biggs answered.
"You'll find that we have a good deal of respect for the law," said
Peasley.
Biggs and his friend went to the barn for their horses. The others
conferred a moment with the two slaves and Mrs. Brimstead. Then the
latter went out into the garden lot to a woman in a sunbonnet who was
working with a hoe some fifteen rods from the house. Mrs. Brimstead
seemed to be conveying a message to the woman by signs. Evidently the
latter was deaf and dumb.
"That is the third slave," Brimstead whispered. "I don't believe they'll
discover her."
Soon Peasley and Samson got into the wagon with the negroes and drove
away, followed by the two horsemen.
In a little village on the river they stopped at a low frame house.
A woman came to the door.
"Is Freeman Collar here?" Peasley demanded.
"He is back in the garden," the woman answered.
"Please ask him to come here."
In a moment Collar came around the house with a hoe on his shoulder. He
was a slim, sandy bearded, long-haired man of medium height, with keen
gray eyes.
"Good morning, Mr. Constable," said Peasley. "This is Eliphalet Biggs of
St. Louis, and here is a warrant for his arrest."
He passed a paper to the officer.
"For my arrest!" Biggs exclaimed. "What is the charge?"
"That you hired a number of men to burn the house of Samson Henry
Traylor, near the village of New Salem, in Sangamon County, and, by
violence, to compel him to leave said county; that, on the 29th of
August, said men--the same being eight in number--attempted to carry out
your design and, being captured and overpowered, all confessed their
guilt and your connection with it, their sworn confessions being now in
the possession of one Stephen Nuckles, a minister of this county. I do
not need to remind you that it is a grave offense and likely to lead to
your confinement for a term of years."
"Well, by G--," Biggs shouted, in anger. "You suckers will have some
traveling to do before you arrest me."
He struck the spurs in his horse and galloped away, followed by his
servant. Samson roared with laughter.
"Now, Collar, get on your horse and hurry 'em along, but don't ketch up
with 'em if you can help it," said Peasley. "We've got them on the run
now. They'll take to the woods an' be darn careful to keep out of sight."
When the Constable had gone, Peasley said to Samson: "We'll drop these
slaves at Nate Haskell's door. He'll take care of 'em until dark and
start 'em on the north road. Late in the evening I'll pick 'em up an'
get 'em out o' this part o' the country."
Meanwhile Brimstead and Harry had stood for a moment in the dooryard of
the former, watching the party on its way up the road. Brimstead blew out
his breath and said in a low tone:
"Say, I'll tell ye, I ain't had so much excitement since Samson Traylor
rode into Flea Valley. The women need a chance to wash their faces and
slick up a little. Le's you and me go back to the creek and go in
swimmin' an' look the farm over."
"What become of the third nigger?" Harry asked.
"She went out in the field in a sunbonnet an' went to work with a hoe and
they didn't discover her," said Brimstead.
"It must have been a nigger that didn't belong to him," Harry declared.
"I guess it was one that the others picked up on the road."
They set out across the sown fields, while Brimstead, in his most
divulging mood, confided many secrets to the young man. Suddenly he
asked:
"Say, did you take partic'lar notice o' that yaller nigger?"
"I didn't see much of him."
"Well, I'll tell ye, he was about as handsome a feller as you'd see in
a day's travel--straight as an arrow and about six feet tall and well
spoken and clean faced. He told me that another master had taught him to
read and write and cipher. He's read the Bible through, and many of the
poems of Scott and Byron and Burns. Don't it rile ye up to think of a man
like that bein' bought and sold and pounded around like a steer? It ain't
decent."
"It's king work; it isn't democracy," Harry answered. "We've got to put
an end to it."
"Say, who's that?" Brimstead asked, as he pointed to a pair of horsemen
hurrying down the distant road.
"It's Biggs and his servant," Harry answered.
"Whew! They ain't lettin' the grass grow under their feet. They'll kill
them horses."
"Biggs is a born killer. I'd like to give him one more licking."
In a moment they saw another horseman a quarter of a mile behind the
others and riding fast.
"Ha, ha! That explains their haste," said Brimstead. "It's ol' Free
Collar on his sorrel mare. Say, I'll tell ye," Brimstead came close to
Harry and added in a low tone: "If Biggs tries any fightin' business
with Collar he'll git killed sure. That man loves excitement. He don't
take no nonsense at all, and he can put a bullet into a gimlet hole at
ten rods."
They had their swim in the creek and got back to the house at dinner
time. Samson had returned and, as they sat down at the table, he told
what had happened at the Constable's house and learned of the passing
of Biggs and his friend in the road, followed by Collar on his sorrel
mare.
"We must hurry back, but we will have to give the horses a rest," said
Samson.
"And the young people a chance to play checkers?" said Mrs. Brimstead.
"I have no heart for play," said Annabel, with a sigh.
"The excitement and the sight o' those poor slaves have taken all the fun
out of her," the woman remarked.
Then Harry asked: "What have you done with the third slave?"
"She's been up-stairs, getting washed and dressed," said Mrs. Brimstead.
As she spoke, the stairway door opened and Bim entered the room--in a
silk gown and slippers. Sorrow had put its mark upon her face, but had
not extinguished her beauty. All rose from the table. Harry walked toward
her. She advanced to meet him. Face to face, they stopped and looked into
each other's eyes. The moment long desired, the moment endeared and
sublimated by the dreams of both, the moment toward which their thoughts
had been wont to hasten, after the cares of the day, like brooks coming
down from the mountains, had arrived suddenly. She was in a way prepared
for it. She had taken thought of what she would do and say. He had not.
Still it made no difference. This little point of time had been so filled
with the power which had flowed into it out of their souls there was no
foretelling what they would do when it touched them. Scarcely a second of
that moment was wasted in hesitation, as a matter of fact. Quickly they
fell into each other's embrace, and the depth of their feeling we may
guess when we read in the diary of the rugged and rather stoical Samson
that no witness of the scene spoke or moved "until I turned my back upon
it for shame of my tears."
Soon Bim came and kissed Samson's cheek and said:
"I am not going to make trouble. I couldn't help this. I heard what he
said to you last night. It made me happy in spite of all my troubles. I
love him but above all I shall try to keep his heart as clean and noble
as it has always been. I really meant to be very strong and upright. It
is all over now. Forgive us. We are going to be as respectable as--as we
can."
Samson pressed her hand and said:
"You came with the slaves and I guess you heard our talk in the wagon."
"Yes, I came with the slaves, and was as black as either of them. We
had all suffered. I should have come alone, but they had been good and
faithful to me. I could not bear to leave them to endure the violence of
that man. We left together one night when he was in a drunken stupor. We
took a boat to Alton and caught The Star of the North to Beardstown--they
traveling as my servants. There I hired a team and wagon. It brought us
to the grove near your house."
"Why did you disguise yourself before you came in?"
"I longed to see Harry, but I did not want him to see me. I did not know
that he would care to see me," she answered. "I longed to see all of
you."
"Isn't that like Bim?" Samson asked.
"I am no longer the fool I was," she answered. "It was not just a
romantic notion. I wanted to share the lot of a runaway slave for a few
days and know what it means. That mulatto--Roger Wentworth--and his
wife are as good as I am, but I have seen them kicked and beaten like
dogs. I know slavery now and all the days of my life I am going to fight
against it. Now I am ready to go to my father's house--like the Prodigal
Son coming back after his folly."
"But you will have some dinner first," said Mrs. Brimstead.
"No, I can not wait--I will walk. It is not far to Hopedale."
"Percy is at the door now with his buggy," said Brimstead.
Bim kissed Samson's cheek and embraced Annabel and her mother and hurried
out of the house. Harry carried her bag to the buggy and helped her in.
"Harry, I want you to fall in love with this pretty girl," she said.
"Don't you dare think of me any more or come near me. If you do, I'll
shoo you away. Go on, Percy."
She waved her hand as the buggy went up the road.
"It's the same old Bim," Harry said to himself, as he stood watching her.
"But I think she's lovelier than she ever was."
The next day Samson wrote in his diary:
* * * * *
"Bim was handsomer, but different. She had a woman's beauty. I noticed
her loose clothes and that gentle look in her face that used to come to
Sarah's when her time was about half over. I am glad she got away before
she was further along."