THE FIGHTING INSTINCT
As questions of discipline became more and more pressing old Tom
refused to sit as an active judge in the executive council.
Norman protested in vain against his decision to retire for a while.
"I can't do no good settin' thar listenin' to them fools," the miner
declared. "They make me sick. Besides, ye all vote me down when I
tells ye what to do, and things keep on goin' from bad to worse. Jest
let me git out and move around among the boys a little. I think I can
do some good. You folks is all too chicken-hearted to run this
Brotherhood. Love and fellowship is all right, but ye've got ter mix a
little law and common sense before ye can straighten the kinks out of
this here community."
Norman gave his consent reluctantly, and was amazed at the end of a
week to observe a remarkable improvement in the spirit of the colony.
Loafers disappeared, stealing all but ceased, drinking and fighting
were on the decrease.
One by one old Tom had taken the loafers with him on a long walk up
the beach. He was usually gone about an hour and always came back
laughing and chatting with his friend in the best of humour.
Invariably the loafer went to work.
In the same way he took a walk with each one of a crowd of wild,
unmannerly boys, whose rudeness at the table and whose horse-play
about the building had become unendurable. The effects of these walks
seemed magical. Always the pair returned in a fine humour and the most
marked revolution was immediately noted in the conduct of the
offender.
Norman asked the old man again and again for the secret of his power.
He replied in the most casual way:
"Just had a plain heart-to-heart talk with 'em and told 'em what had
to be--that's all."
The good work had continued for a week with uninterrupted success,
when a bomb was suddenly exploded in the executive council by the
appearance of an irate mother leading an insolent fourteen-year-old
cub, who walked rather stiffly.
Amid a silence that was painful, the mother stripped the boy to the
waist, thrust him before Norman and Barbara, and said:
"Now, tell them what you've just told me."
The boy glanced cautiously around to see if his enemy were near and
poured forth a tale the like of which had never been heard before.
"Old Tom asked me to take a walk with him. He got me away off in a
lonely place behind the big rocks on that little island up the beach
and pulled up a plank drawbridge so I couldn't get back till he wanted
to let me. He stripped me like this, tied me to a whipping-post and
nearly beat the life out of me. He said he'd been appointed by the
council to settle with me in private so nobody would know anything
about it."
"Said that he had been appointed by the council to whip you?" Norman
asked, in amazement.
"That's what he said, sir," the boy went on. "He gave me forty-nine
lashes with a cowhide and then set down and talked to me a half hour."
"And what did he say?" Norman inquired, forcing back a smile by a
desperate effort.
"He told me that he tried to get out of the work, but the council had
forced it on him. Said there oughtn't to be no hard feelings, that it
was a dirty, tiresome job, and he didn't have no pleasure in it, but
it had to be done for the salvation of the people. He said it wasn't
wise to talk about such things among the Brotherhood. I told him I'd
tell my ma the minute I got home. He said that would be foolish, that
none of the others had said a word, that they had all taken their
medicine like little men."
"He told you he had whipped all the others who had taken that walk
with him?" Norman gasped.
"That's what he said, sir," the boy insisted, "and I guess he had, for
they'd pawed a hole in the sand 'round that whipping-post big enough
to bury a horse in."
The boy paused and his mother shook him angrily.
"Tell what else he said to you!"
The cub glanced hastily toward the door and whispered:
"Said if I opened my mouth about what had happened he'd skin me
alive."
The council sent the mother and son away with the assurance of
immediate action.
The court adjourned and Norman started with Barbara at once to find
Tom. Faithful to his new calling he had strolled up the beach with a
man who once had been his partner as a prospector and miner. Joe
Weatherby had been drinking heavily the week before and Tom had keenly
felt the disgrace his old partner had brought on the Brotherhood by
his rudeness in the dining-room.
Joe had thrown a plate of soup in the face of a boy who was making
facetious remarks about his capacity for strong drink. When rebuked by
his neighbours he had accentuated his displeasure by overturning the
table and smashing every dish on it. He ended the affair by roundly
cursing the Brotherhood for its rules and regulations interfering with
his personal liberty, threw his pack on his back, and struck the trail
for the mountains to prospect for gold.
He had just returned, after a week's absence, and Tom seized the
opportunity to invite Joe to take a walk with him.
Knowing the character of the two men, Norman felt quite sure this walk
could not possibly have the usual happy ending that attended so many
of these performances.
He quickened his pace.
"Hurry, or we may have a funeral for our next function," he cried,
with a laugh.
A quarter of a mile up the beach the sound of loud angry words
suddenly struck their ears from behind a pile of huge boulders.
"Quick, we're just in time!" Barbara cried, "they've begun to
quarrel."
They cautiously approached the boulders and climbed to the top of the
larger one overlooking the scene Tom had evidently chosen for his
debate with Joe.
"Hadn't you better part them now?" Barbara asked with some anxiety.
"No, I'll stop them in time. I want to get acquainted with Tom's
methods of persuasion first."
Tom's voice was rising in accents of wrath. "Joe, I'm a man o'
peace--I'm a member o' the Brotherhood and you're my brother, but I'll
tell ye right now we've got to have law and order in this
community----"
"And I say, Tom Mooney, there hain't no law exceptin' what's inside a
man."
"Yes, but how kin ye git any law inside a man ef he's always chuck
full er licker?"
"I don't drink to 'mount to nothin'," Joe protested. "Just a drop now
an' then ter keep me in good health."
"Wall, ef you try any more capers in that dinin'-room, your health's
goin' ter break clean down--yer hear me?"
Joe eyed Tom a moment and said with sharp emphasis:
"I reckon I can take care o' myself, partner, without you settin' up
nights to worry about me."
"That's just the trouble, Joe, ye can't. You jined the Brotherhood,
but yer faith's gettin' weak. I'm afeard you're onregenerate,
conceived in sin an' brought forth in iniquity, an' ye ain't had no
change er heart nohow."
"Look here, what are ye drivin' at?" Joe asked, beginning to back away
cautiously.
"I just want ter strengthen yer faith, partner," Tom protested kindly
as he advanced good-naturedly and laid his hand on Joe's arm.
Joe shook it off and turned to go. With a sudden spring Tom was on
him. A brief, fierce struggle ensued marked by low, savage growls like
two bull-dogs clinched and searching for each other's throats.
"Stop them! Stop them! They'll kill one another," pleaded Barbara.
"No. It'll do them good. Wait," he replied, watching them
breathlessly.
"Here! Here, you old fool," growled Joe. "Do you call this the
Brotherhood of Man?"
"Yes, my son, and specially the Fatherhood er God. The Lord chastens
them he loveth!"
With a sudden twist the writhing figures fell in the sand, Tom on top
pinning Joe down.
Joe fought with fierce strength to rise but it was no use.
Tom clutched his throat and choked him steadily into submission.
"I'm er man o' peace, Joe," he repeated.
"Yes, you are!" the bottom one growled.
"But when I mingles with the unregenerate, my son, I trusts in God an'
keeps my powder dry!"
"Let me up, you old fool!" Joe growled.
"Not yet, my son!" was the firm answer.
"You'll get my dander up in a minute and some body's goin' ter git
hurt," warned the prostrate figure.
"Please make them quit," Barbara whispered tremblingly.
"Nonsense. They're enjoying themselves," Norman softly laughed.
"What are you tryin' ter do anyhow?" whined Joe.
"I'm callin' a lost sinner to repentance," was the prompt answer.
"Lemme up, I tell ye," Joe yelled, struggling with desperation.
Tom choked him again into silence and seated himself comfortably
across Joe's stomach.
"Now, Joseph, my boy. I want you ter say over the catechism of the
Brotherhood of Man. Hit'll freshen yer mind an' be good fer yer
soul----"
Another grim struggle interrupted the teacher.
"Say it after me: I believe in the fatherhood er God----"
Joe squirmed.
"Say it!"
Still no sound. Tom firmly gripped his throat and Joe gurgled:
"Fatherhood er God!"
"And brotherhood o' man!"
"Brotherhood er man!"
"Yer believe it now?" Tom fiercely asked.
Joe feebly assented.
Tom gripped his throat.
"Say it strong!"
"Yes--I believe it!" Joe confessed.
Again the under man struggled desperately and the man on top fiercely
choked him into a quieter frame of mind.
"Now again: No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom er God!"
Joe repeated, "No drunkard--shall--what?"
"Inherit--the--kingdom--er God--by golly you've forgot yer Bible too!"
"Inherit--the--kingdom er--God!"
"Who shall not inherit the kingdom of God?"
"No drunkard!" Joe answered.
"Let that soak into yer lost soul!" Tom growled, pausing a moment.
"Now once more! Bear--ye--one--another's burdens!"
Joe hesitated and the man on top bumped the words out of him one at a
time:
"Bear--ye--one--another's--burdens!"
"An' ye're goin' ter help me bear mine?" the teacher asked.
"Ain't I a-doin' it now?" grumbled the man below.
"Well, once more then: Private property is theft!"
"That's a lie an' you know it," Joe sneered.
"The big chief says so and it goes--say it!"
"Private property is theft," Joe repeated.
"Well, then, once more: Love--one--another!"
"Love one another," came the feeble echo.
"Do ye love me?" Tom fiercely inquired.
Joe struggled.
"Say it!" commanded the teacher.
"I love ye," he groaned.
Norman suddenly appeared on the scene followed by Barbara and the two
miners leaped to their feet.
"Tom, old boy," the young leader cried, "you mean well, but we are
told by the preacher that the kingdom of God cometh not of
observation--it must be from within."
"Just goin' over his Sunday-school lesson with him, Chief."
Joe made a hostile movement, and Norman stepped between them.
"Come! You two big kids--enough of this now, shake hands and make
up!"
The men both hung back stubbornly.
Norman turned to Tom.
"Were you not partners and friends before you joined the Brotherhood?"
"Yes," the old miner replied grudgingly. "We bin tergether twelve
years an' we worked an' played tergether, starved an' froze tergether,
lived tergether, an' slept under the same blanket--he's the only
partner I ever had--an' he's my best friend"--Tom paused and
choked--"but I don't like 'im!"
"Shake hands and make up!" Barbara laughed.
They hung back a moment longer until Barbara's smile became
resistless.
Joe extended his hand, exclaiming:
"Shake, you old coyote!"
Norman gave Joe a serious talk--got a pledge from him to quit drink
and stand by him in his efforts to bring order out of the confusion
and chaos in which the colony was floundering.
"You think I can do anything to help you?" Joe asked incredulously.
"Of course you can. You and Tom are two men I've known all my life. I
know where to find you if I get into trouble."
"Is there goin' ter be any trouble?" Tom broke in, eagerly.
"Not yet, but it's coming. When it does we'll fight it out and win.
I've set my life on the issue of this experiment."
Joe extended him his hand. "I'm sorry I got drunk. I won't do it
again--we'll stand by ye!"
"Through thick an' thin," Tom added.
"And hereafter, Tom," Norman said with a smile, "I'd like to be
consulted before you hold any more sessions of your court up the
beach."
Tom started.
"You've heard about it?"
"Yes."
"By gum, I knowed I oughter licked that kid again!" the old miner
observed, regretfully.
Norman, said gravely: "Tom, we are getting into deep water. I've begun
to have some doubts about our safety. A leader must lead. And I'm
going to do it. Can I depend on you to execute my orders and mine
alone?"
"Every day in the year," was the firm reply.
"The same here," Joe echoed.
Barbara had drawn apart from the group of men and stood watching them
with keen, suspicious interest as the two miners started homeward with
restored good humour.
"What did you mean by saying that you were afraid of coming trouble?"
Barbara eagerly asked of Norman. "What have you heard? What do you
suspect?"
"Nothing," he answered, thoughtfully. "But I've had the blues for a
week. It's been growing on me that we are not getting on except into
situations more and more impossible. There's a screw loose somewhere
in our system. There's going to be a wreck unless we find and repair
it."
"I have felt this, too, and I think I know the cause."
"What?"
"Liberty which has degenerated into licence. We lack authority and the
power to enforce it."
"And this is the one thing we cursed in the old system--the law,
power, authority."
"No," Barbara quickly objected. "We did not rebel against law or the
exercise of authority. We rebelled against its unjust use."
"And what depresses me is that I am convinced that we must use the
power of law with more stern, direct, and personal pressure than ever
known under the system of capitalism, or we must fail."
"Is not such pressure desirable?"
"It depends on who applies the pressure--but it seems inevitable--and
it depresses me."
Barbara broke into a joyous laugh.
"Away with gloomy forebodings! It's only a day's fog. It will lift.
The sun is shining behind it now."
Her laughter was contagious. Norman smiled in quick sympathy, and a
response of hope and courage was just forming itself on his lips when
he looked toward the house and saw an excited crowd packed in the
doorway.
"What on earth is the matter?" Barbara gasped.
"Some accident has happened," he replied, quickly. "Come, we must
hurry!"
Catherine's lithe figure darted down the steps and met them on the
lawn.
"What is it?" Norman cried.
"A murder!"
"A murder?" Barbara repeated, incredulously.
"Yes--wilful, deliberate, cruel, horrible!" Catherine went on
excitedly.
"Not old Tom and Joe?" Norman broke in.
"No--Blanche----"
"Oh, God, I knew it," Barbara gasped. "Go on."
"Blanche kept on playing fast and loose with the two boys who fought
over her the other night. George Mann found his rival in her room just
now, waylaid him in the hall, and when he came out sprang on him like
a fiend, stabbed him through the heart and cut his throat. The
brothers of the dead boy swear they will kill the murderer on sight,
and they've locked him in your room, Norman, for safety. The men are
excited to frenzy. Nobody likes the boy who did the crime. The
rougher ones swear they are going to hang him. They tried to break in
your door twice, but Herman knocked the ringleaders down and with Tom
and Joe beat the crowd back. Something must be done at once to prevent
another outbreak."
Norman hurried to the scene and joined Wolf in his defence of the
prisoner. Tom formed a guard of ten men heavily armed and marched the
prisoner to the top of the house, placed him in the small room in one
of the central towers, and stationed one man inside and five on the
stairway leading into the tower.
The executive council met immediately and voted unanimously to erect a
prison, establish a penal colony on the small island at the north of
Ventura, and restore the whipping-post for minor offenders.
The announcement of this momentous act was made to the general
assembly without request for debate or an expression of opinion. It
was received in silence.
The Bard could not protest. He was still confined to his room from the
effects of a recent argument with his wife.