THE CLOUD OF WAR
"I KNOW the cause of Dawson's trouble," remarked Vose Adams, late one
night at the Heavenly Bower.
"What is it?" asked Wade Ruggles, while the rest listened intently.
"On my last trip to Sacramento, two months ago, I brought him a thick
letter: that's what is raising the mischief with him."
"But what was in the letter to make him act so queer?"
"How should I know? do you expect me to open and read all the letters
I bring through the mountains?"
"Bein' as you couldn't read the big letters the parson has painted on
the side of the rock a foot high," said Al Bidwell sarcastically,
"there ain't much danger of your doin' that, which the same is lucky
for them as gits love letters like myself regular by each mail."
"Which the same you won't git any more onless you sling your remarks a
little more keerful," warned the mail carrier.
"And the same being that you can't read the directions writ onto
them, I don't see how you're going to help yourself."
"The postmaster at Sacramento is very obligin'," was the significant
comment of Vose.
Bidwell saw the dangerous ground on which he was treading, and made it
safe by a jesting remark and an invitation to Adams and the rest to
join him at the bar.
"We was on the subject of Dawson," remarked Ruggles from his seat, for
all had learned long before of the uselessness of inviting him to
drink; "and it's the opinion of Vose, I understand, that it was the
letter that has made the change in him."
"There ain't any doubt about it," said Adams; "fur the attack took him
right after; I noticed the difference in him the next day. He sets by
himself these evenings after the little gal has gone to bed, smoking
his pipe, without any light in his shanty, and thinking hard."
Wade smoked thoughtfully a minute and then remarked:
"I wonder whether it wouldn't be a good idee to app'int a committee to
wait on Dawson and ask him what the blazes is the matter and whether
we can't do nothin' to make a man of him agin."
Since Ruggles had become accustomed to act as chairman at the
discussions in the Heavenly Bower, he had developed a strong faith in
committees.
"That's a piece of the most onspeakable foolishness that I've run
aginst since I settled in New Constantinople," observed the landlord
with a contemptuous sniff; "the minute the committee arrove and stated
their bus'ness, Dawson would kick 'em out of his shanty and clean
across the street, and he'd be lacking in the instincts of a man if he
didn't do that same thing."
"Mr. Ortigies forgits that I didn't mean to suggest that _he_ was to
be a member of the committee; I meant they should be _gentlemen_;
consequently that bars him out and there wouldn't be no trouble."
"I understand your sarcasm, Wade, but your words would leave you off
the committee likewise; but may I ask what the members would ask him
when they knocked at his door?"
"Any gentleman wouldn't be at a loss what to say, fur he would only
hev to remark sorter careless like that he had observed the man was
acting so queer that we was afeard he was troubled with remorse over
some crime he'd committed, and about which he had got notice that the
officers was lookin' fur him, but that if he'd trust us and give a
description of the officers, so there wouldn't be any mistake, we'd
watch fur 'em up the trail and pick 'em off afore they could profane
New Constantinople with their presence."
This was a prodigious sentence for Wade, and he leaned back and smoked
his pipe with considerable self-complacency, but it impressed none of
his hearers as he expected. Parson Brush shook his head.
"It isn't a very wise way of introducing yourself to a man by assuming
that he is a fugitive from justice. In the first place, I am sure
there is nothing of the kind in the case of Dawson. He has probably
heard some news from the East that troubles him."
"That's just what I was sayin'," broke in Ruggles.
"But not of the nature intimated by you."
"What else can it be?"
"It might be one of a dozen things; I know you are all wrong in your
guesses."
Every eye was fixed upon the parson, for all were anxious to learn at
what he was hinting. His face was unusually grave, but he stopped
speaking, as if he deemed it indiscreet to say anything more. He
noticed the looks and whetted the curiosity by adding:
"I have been so disturbed over the change in Dawson that I called on
him last night and had a talk with him."
"And what did you learn?" asked Budge Isham, the moment Brush showed
an inclination to stop talking.
"Well, it was hard work to draw him out, but finally he told me he had
received a letter from the East, which made him think he would have to
leave us. That isn't the worst."
All were breathless, afraid to give utterance to the dread that until
then was vague and indistinct in their minds.
"He thinks he must take his daughter Nellie with him."
"What! Take her away from us? That can never be allowed."
None felt the anguish of the announcement keener than the man who made
it, but he looked calmly into the angry faces and said:
"You forget, my friends, that she is his child and he has the moral
and legal right to do what he thinks is best for her."
"But where are _our_ rights?" demanded Wade Ruggles; "they mustn't be
forgot."
"We haven't any,--not a single one. But I am satisfied that one cause
of Dawson's distress of mind is the very question you have asked. He
can never cease to be deeply grateful to all of us for what we have
done for him and his child. He doesn't wish to take her away for it
will be as painful to her as to us. But friends," continued the
parson, with a sense of right that was creditable to him, "Dawson's
first duty is to his child. She is now twelve years old, quite a large
girl and is growing fast. She has never seen girl or woman since she
was brought here; she will soon be a young woman; she requires
association with others of her own sex; her welfare demands this; her
education and proper training can never be obtained in this mining
settlement."
"Eddycation!" exclaimed Vose Adams; "what have you been doing with her
all this time? She must be as far along in her studies and eddycation
as me and Ruggles."
"It is to be hoped so," replied the parson with a smile; "I doubt
whether she will meet any one of her age as proficient in book
learning as herself, but there remains music, etiquette, and above
all, the social customs and accomplishments which can be acquired
nowhere except in the abode of civilization. There is none upon whom
this blow will fall more heavily than myself, but I have no right to
interpose when a man is doing his duty."
An exploding bomb could not have caused more consternation than the
news brought by the parson. Every one felt the truth of his words and
respected him for their utterance, but it was like asking them to
consent to the blotting of the sun from the heavens.
"I see a way out of it," finally remarked Wade Ruggles with a
brightening face; "we can compermise."
"In what way?"
"Why, if Dawson feels that he and the gal must go, let him split the
difference atween us; he can go and leave her; that will satisfy
everybody."
"It will hardly satisfy him, since the whole question is that of
taking her with him. He must be left free to do whatever he chooses."
The parson looked into the gloomy faces turned toward him.
"Boys, you have all heard the news brought by the last papers. Fort
Sumter has been fired on; President Lincoln has called for volunteers;
the Southern Confederacy has been declared and civil war has begun. It
is the intention of Dawson to offer his services to the cause of the
Union."
"And I shall enlist too," declared Wade Ruggles, compressing his lips,
"but it will be on the other side."
"I'm with you," added Budge Isham; "I am from Alabama, and if she
secedes, as she is sure to do, I am ready to lay down my life in her
defence."
"Sorry, pards, but that shoves me into the Union army," remarked Al
Bidwell, puffing quietly at his pipe; "we must keep the balance right,
but we'll part friends here and we'll be friends till we shoulder our
muskets. Then we'll do all we can to kill each other."
Further discussion disclosed that the citizens of New Constantinople
were about equally divided in their allegiance, but all of them were
not yet ready to take up arms in support of the cause with which they
sympathized. There were eight who announced their intention of making
their way to San Francisco, there to find the most available route to
the points necessary to reach. It was typical of that stupendous
struggle, the greatest of modern times, that four of these recruits
were ardent supporters of one cause and four equally eager to risk
their lives for the other. They were the warmest of friends and had
been for years, willing to face any danger for the sake of the
remainder. It would be the same until they parted, and then, as one of
them had already expressed it, they would devote every energy to
trying to kill one another.
None of the volunteers faltered until Maurice Dawson decided to leave
his daughter at the settlement until his return, if so be he should be
permitted to return. He knew of no better or safer place for her, nor
of any friends to whose care he would more cheerfully commit her, in
case it should be his lot to fall on the field of battle.
It had been Parson Brush's intention to be Dawson's comrade in his
perils, but when the father begged him to stay behind to look after
his child he consented. And so the programme, so fraught with
momentous consequences, was arranged.