think, but was caught up by the strong wind and thrown forward, and this
in such quick succession that the whole plain seemed to take fire at
once. It was in some respects like what one may see on the water when a
hurricane, sweeping the tops of the rolling waves, carries them upward
and forward, to let them drop finally like a deluge of falling rain. So
the flames which we stood watching were continually lifted and carried
forward by great leaps and bounds, and with such speed that the eye
could only faintly trace their progress. At times, indeed, the earth
itself seemed to be aflame, and all things about to perish, so fierce
and all-pervading was the heat.
"As the fire came on a curious thing happened, for from out the tall
grass about the base of the black hill whereon we stood the wild animals
that live in the plain, with lolling tongues and bloodshot eyes, burst
into the open, and seeing us, mounted to the summit, and crouched at our
feet, trembling and panting, as domestic animals might have done, all
their wildness clean gone out of them. At last, as the grass about us
ignited, a fawn ran into the opening, but only to fall exhausted on its
very edge. Seeing this, my companion ran to where it was, and taking
the animal in his arms, brought it safely to the top. Afterward, not
less curiously, when the fire had passed and we began to stir about, all
the animals took fright and fled, their fear of man returning as if by
one accord once the danger was gone.
"Thus we were saved, and in the manner I have described. When the fire
had died down, and there was no longer any danger, I sought to express
my thanks and admiration for my companion's coolness and bravery. He,
however, as if thinking lightly of what had happened, was already
preparing the horses for our departure, and with such expedition that
ere I had recovered myself they were in readiness for us to mount.
Springing into the saddle as if urged to haste by some motive unknown to
me, he cried aloud:
"'Come, quick! the danger is past; I must be off!'
"Mounting my horse without response, we took our way down the side of
the hill, and reaching its base, he stopped abruptly, saying:
"'I can't go on with you, but must hasten across the country to my home.
My wife will have seen the fire and be crazed with fear until she knows
I am safe; but if you would like,' he went on, seeing the look of
distress in my face, 'I should be glad to have you go with me. It will
not be much out of your way, and you can ride into town in the morning
if you wish.'
"To this I answered that I should be only too glad to do as he said.
'But how,' I asked, 'can we find our way across the country on such a
night, with every landmark gone?'
"'I know the direction, and my horse will take me home without bridle or
spur or swerving an inch from the true course.'
"'Go on, then,' I answered, and without saying more we started; and
after an hour's ride across the black expanse at a pace I thought only a
madman would dare, we reached his home in safety, where we found his
wife, as he had thought, prostrate and in tears. Our welcome was such
as seldom falls to the lot of men in this world, though Mr. Holmes
strove to make light of the risk we had run. She knew better, however,
and so what he said did not lessen the shock; and at supper, which was
soon spread, she ate nothing, but sat idly by, never taking her eyes off
his face. Nor did he succeed in calming her during the evening that
followed, though she said little or nothing. Thus we escaped, and alas!
brave man, only that you should afterward be overtaken by a fate
scarcely less cruel!"
Here our companion brought his story to an end, and leaning forward
rested his face in his hands, as if consumed by the sad thoughts the
recollection called forth. Waiting a while, Uncle Job spoke up, but
with voice so low and broken as to be scarce audible:
"You used a name just now that is dear to us beyond speaking. Perhaps
you remember Mr. Holmes' other name?"
"Yes, Charles; and his wife's name was Margaret," he answered without
moving.
Hearing this, Uncle Job turned toward me and held up his hand as if in
warning, but I overcome by what I had heard, burst into a paroxysm of
tears, crying out:
"Father! Mother!"
At this outburst our companion raised his head, his look of melancholy
giving place to one of surprise. Thus he continued to regard me for
some time, until at last, understanding the meaning of what I said, he
reached forward in tender pity, and lifting me up pressed me against his
heart. Releasing me after a while, he took my hand, and leaning
forward, looked in my face as one might gaze into the face of a friend
long mourned as lost.
"Yes, the same; his mother's face and eyes, and something of his
father's look, too," he murmured, as if talking to himself. "How
strange that in the shadow of this hill I should meet their child.
Gone; I thought never to see them again, but here they look out on me as
before."
Overcome, I made no answer, and thus we went on in silence until our
little party having in some measure regained its former composure, the
gentleman, taking my hand, spoke up again:
"Tell me, my son, where you live, your home, if you do not mind."
"I'm going to live with Uncle Job," I answered; "but where, I do not
know."
"I asked, thinking some time to be of service to you. Who knows: It
would not be more strange than our meeting here; but this I want to ask
of you, my child, that you will treasure the thought that I want to
serve you: and that you may always know where I am and how to reach me,
take this," and tearing a leaf from a worn book he took from his pocket,
he wrote thereon his name and handed it to me; and I looking, read:
[Illustration: A. Lincoln, Springfield, Ills]
This precious paper I still have and treasure, and shall transmit to my
children, as one might the relic of a saint or the memory of an event in
which love mingles and grows stronger with the lapse of time.
NOTE.--Mr. Lincoln at the time of which Gilbert Holmes speaks was in his
twenty-ninth year, but already bore in his drawn face the look of
melancholy habitual to it in later life. This, as if forecasting in some
way the doom that was finally to overtake him in the height of his
career; but not, indeed, until his task was done and his country saved
through his great wisdom and patriotic effort.--THE AUTHOR.
*CHAPTER XIV*
*THE HIGHWAYMAN*
When the day was half gone, and we were worn with fatigue and hunger, we
reached the edge of the forest toward which we had been tending since
early morning. Here in its shadows we came upon a lonely tavern, where
we found dinner and a change of horses. Here, too, the mailbag was
brought forth for the first time, and its contents scanned by our host
of the "White Cow"--for such was the name of the hostelry--but
unavailingly, for of letters or other matter concerning him there was
not a scrap. Our dinner, which was quickly served, was simple in the
extreme, but greatly to our liking, consisting of cornbread and hulled
corn, with pork and hot coffee for relishes; and then, to top all, and
in the way of dessert, wild strawberries, with cream from the White
Cow's own dairy.
When we were ready to depart the stage was brought to the door, and
taking our places, we bade our host adieu, greatly refreshed in body and
mind by our short stop. The way lay through the deep forest, and our
progress, before slow, now became still more deliberate, for there was
scarce more than a path, and across this the rank shrubbery stretched
its luxuriant branches as if to further bar the way. Moreover, the road,
softened by late rains, was in many places impassable, so that we often
found it necessary to alight in order to lessen the load. Nor was this
sufficient in many cases, but in such emergencies the great strength of
Mr. Lincoln answered us in good stead, being enough in itself to lift
the vehicle from the mire and place it on firm ground. In this way our
stoppages were so frequent that we ceased to give them any attention; so
that finally, when we came to an abrupt halt on emerging from a small
stream, we thought nothing of it until a man, springing from behind the
overhanging trees, called out:
"Halt! Throw up your hands!"
Not waiting a response, he came forward with resolute step, covering the
occupants of the stage with the weapons he carried. Scarce had the
summons been made, however, than Mr. Lincoln, with a quick movement,
thrust a pistol forward and fired. Missing his mark, the shot did not
stay the robber, for now, coming on with longer strides, he thrust his
pistols into the stage, crying out:
"Throw up you hands, or, by heavens, I'll blow your heads off!"
At this, seeing further resistance useless, Mr. Lincoln and Uncle Job
did as they were told.
"There! that's more polite. God Almighty, what an ugly shot, though!"
the highwayman exclaimed, and in proof of it held up his arm, showing
the sleeve of his coat half blown away. "Most men would fire back, my
friend, but I am more considerate, you see, though it's not nice to
welcome a man who seeks agreeable company in so rude a fashion. There!
you need not excuse yourselves," he went on, in a whimsical,
good-natured way; "but get down, and lest you pinch your fingers, keep
your hands in the air meanwhile. There! like that; thanks!" Saying
which he moved back so as to let us alight, but keeping his pistols all
the while pointed in our direction. When I got down, which I did with
all haste, he laughed aloud, as he did at Uncle Job; but when Mr.
Lincoln bent forward to follow, the robber, scanning his face, gave a
start of surprise, and lowering his weapons, cried out, as if astonished
beyond measure at what he saw:
"Great God! Mr. Lincoln!"
Hearing his name thus called, Mr. Lincoln sat still, scrutinizing the
robber, as if trying to recall his face.
"Good Lord!" the highwayman went on, after a moment's pause, "who would
have thought to run across you here! And to think I might have killed
you, of all men. Do not get down, Mr. Lincoln, but let me, and in that
way ask your forgiveness, and on my knees." Saying which, and without
more ado, the bandit dropped down in the road in the most ludicrous way
possible, looking for all the world as if he wished he were dead, so
forlorn was his aspect. To all this Mr. Lincoln made no response, but
sat gazing upon the other with darkened brow in which anger and surprise
were mingled. At last, raising his hand to still the other, he said, in
his slow, measured way:
"What is the meaning of all this nonsense, man--if indeed you are not
mad or acting a part?"
At this the robber, still kneeling, removed his hat, which before partly
hid his face, and doing so, displayed a countenance singularly handsome
and free from look of evil or dissipation of any kind. Seeing him thus
more clearly, Mr. Lincoln exclaimed, in a voice full of astonishment and
anger:
"Fox, the highwayman!"
"Yes, Fox; the scoundrel you saved from the gallows, only to risk your
own life to-day."
"If not me, some one else," Mr. Lincoln answered; "for if you would rob
and, if need be, murder a stranger, you would not long respect a friend;
but men like you have no friends."
"No, nor deserve any, and I wish you had killed me; I would like to have
died that way," the robber answered, averting his face and rising to his
feet.
"I only sought to cripple your arm, as your torn sleeve shows," Mr.
Lincoln answered, looking him over.
"That was like you, but I did not deserve it, nor was it a mercy to me."
"No, but I do not wish your blood on my hands. You are not to die that
way, but by the hangman, Fox," Mr. Lincoln answered, soberly.
"No, no, not that!" the other cried. "I am not so bad as to deserve
such a death, for I have never killed any one, and did not intend injury
to you, though you will not believe it, and ought not to."
"It is not likely; but tell me how long you have been following this
kind of a life," Mr. Lincoln asked, after a pause.
"I have not followed it at all, or only since yesterday."
"You are not telling the truth; but how could you take to the road again
after the promises you made me?" Mr. Lincoln inquired, with a mournful
cadence in his voice.
"Oh! you think I have always been a highwayman, and lied to you?" Fox
cried out at this in a pitiful way.
"Certainly; or how does it happen you are here?" Mr. Lincoln asked, his
voice filled with distress at the imposition that had been practiced
upon him.
"It was exactly as I told you at the time, neither more nor less, though
every appearance is now dead against me, I know," Fox answered,
appealingly.
"I have forgotten the particulars, or remember them only vaguely. Tell
them to me again, and quickly; and speak the truth as you hope to be
saved," Mr. Lincoln interrupted.
"I will, but I can't speak more truly than I did before. I was in bad
company, and that was all, as I told you at the time; but that was
enough to undo me. A little while before you came across me in the
hands of the farmers I had been sick and unfortunate. Traveling across
the country, I fell ill of a fever at a farmhouse where I chanced to
stop for the night; and here I remained for many weeks, while the man
and his wife, themselves far from well, nursed me back to life. When
strong enough to go on I had nothing save my horse with which to pay
them for their kindness. This I left, though they would have prevented
it if they could. Going forward on foot, and greatly enfeebled, I fell
in after a while with a man leading an extra horse. Whether out of
kindness because of my forlorn condition or for some other reason I know
not, he asked me to make use of the spare animal. This I did, thanking
him for his kindness; but when we had gone a little way on the road, and
I was congratulating myself on my good fortune, I observed men following
us, and as soon as they were within hearing they called to us to stop.
Upon this I turned about, but my companion, going to one side, entered
the forest which here grew near the road. Of this I thought nothing,
but when the party, coming up, accused me of stealing the horse upon
which I was mounted, I looked around for my companion to confirm my
innocence, only to find he had disappeared. They laughed at my
explanation, and would have hung me had you not come up, and by entreaty
and promises to see that justice was done, prevailed upon them to put me
in jail. For you know how it is in this disordered country; a man may
rob another of his purse, and even take life, and still have the benefit
of a doubt, but to have stolen a horse means death, with no trial save
by men in the heat of passion."
"That is the story I remember you told me at the time; but what did you
do afterward, and why have you turned highwayman if you were honest
before?" Mr. Lincoln interrupted, his voice wavering between distrust
and pity.
"When I was set free every one thought me guilty, nor would they believe
otherwise, saying I got off because the jury was influenced by your
belief that I was innocent, and that it was your plea that saved me, and
nothing else. When finally no one would give me work and I was warned
to leave the country, I turned to the road for a living, and poor it is,
for save a worthless watch I have nothing for my pains."
Here the poor robber, as if realizing anew his forlorn condition, fell
to crying as if his heart was broken. At this we were all greatly
moved, so distressing was the sight, and from disbelief were every one
of us led to think he spoke the truth, and in all things had been much
abused by the community. For a long time nothing was said, until at
last, turning to the robber, Mr. Lincoln exclaimed:
"Well, Fox, I am led to believe you again, though your presence here
confirms all the things said of you before. Surely with your talents you
ought to be able to do something better than this."
"Let me have a chance, Mr. Lincoln, for there never lived a man less
inclined to lead such a life; but my good name is gone, and I dare not
show my face among honest men. Of all the wrongdoing laid at my door
this is the beginning and end," he exclaimed, drawing from his pocket a
silver watch scarce worth the carrying, and handing it to Mr. Lincoln.
"A few hours ago, coming upon an old man, this was all he had, and so
sorrowful was his tale that in pity I was led to give him the few pieces
of silver I had in exchange. Nor would I have taken the watch, only
that I could not see how I was to succeed as a highwayman if I let the
first man I met escape me."
"I am afraid you would make a poor robber, Fox," Mr. Lincoln answered;
"and if you are still inclined to live an honest life, I will help you
to start anew. Our new country is full of such breakdowns, and happy
the men who can and will retrieve them."
Saying which, Mr. Lincoln, reaching out his hand, grasped that of Fox,
and with such fervor and good will that should I live a thousand years I
could not forget the action, nor how it thrilled me. At this tears
welled up afresh in the forlorn eyes of the poor wretch, and reaching
forward he would have embraced Mr. Lincoln's knees but the latter,
lifting him up, exclaimed:
"There, mount and follow us, or tie your horse behind and get into the
stage if you would like that better. No one here will speak of what has
happened," he added, looking at each of us in turn to confirm his words.
To this appeal we answered with our eyes, for we were all filled with
the greatest pity.
"You are capable of great things, Fox," Mr. Lincoln went on, "and
hereafter you shall look to me till you get on your feet again, which
will not be long," he added, as if to encourage him. Upon this, Fox,
without saying more, mounted his horse and fell in behind the stage,
where he rode on in silence the rest of the afternoon.
No word was spoken after we took our seats, and so it came about that I
found myself again peering into the face of the man before me, who had
shown, by turns, such courage and trusting faith and womanly tenderness.
It was less perplexing to me now, and in its sad expression I read, as a
child might, the story of his life and its hardships; hardships
patiently endured, and that would forever make its owner tender to all
who were afflicted or in distress; a face shadowing forth a thousand
miseries, and that in youth had looked out on a barren prospect from a
body overworked and poorly nourished; a face that hid itself behind eyes
weary with disappointment and vain striving; a face to invite confidence
and hold it forevermore; a face full of expediency, and that would have
been commanding and self-assertive had it not been softened by long
waiting upon the pleasure of others; a face truly great, but having in
its texture other and lesser strains such as all men's have, the kingly
line, not less than the peasant's; a face in which greatness dominated
all others, but sensitive withal, and scarce fitted to endure the
buffetings of unthinking boors who, to be made useful, must be smoothed
into good-natured complaisance. Yet such tasks its owner set about, and
succeeding, suffered naught save martyrdom, of which mankind will
forever reap the fruits. Of my scrutiny Mr. Lincoln took no further
notice, but shrank back again within himself, as if he would hide from
every one what he was or sought to be. Inscrutable man! How truly
great, and yet how truly tender and honest of heart! Surely such
combination ne'er found lodgement in man before, nor will again until
suffering and ambition blend strains as widely divergent.
Thus the afternoon passed until the sun was setting, when we stopped at
a wayside tavern for supper and a change of horses. Here Mr. Lincoln
arranged for Fox to stay until his return, some days later. As for the
latter, he could not be moved to take his eyes off his benefactor, but
sat as if entranced, and when we drove away, watched us from the road
until our lamps were lost in the depths of the surrounding forest.
*CHAPTER XV*
*CONSTABLE BLOTT*
Nothing further occurred to disturb the monotony of our journey until we
neared its end, on the afternoon of the third day, when I was thrown
into a fever of excitement by the strange actions of a man of savage
aspect who overtook us as we were slowly making our way. Pistols
protruded from his belt, and as he passed he slackened his pace, and
thrusting his lean face into the stage, gazed about with such fierce
assertiveness that I threw up my hands, expecting we should surely be
called upon to halt; but after eying us attentively, and me most of all,
he straightened up, and putting spurs to his horse, was soon lost in the
distance. Before this, however, at every stop, no matter what the
cause, I fell back in my seat, scarce able to breathe, thinking to hear
the report of a pistol and an order to halt, so greatly had the
adventure with Fox upset my nerves. Nothing of the kind occurring, my
peace of mind returned at last, so that I was able to pursue the journey
with some comfort, until, as I say, the savage little man with the
beaked nose and fierce eyes stirred my blood afresh.
In this way our long ride came to an end on the third day, when we
alighted, none the worse for our journey, in the little town of Quincy.
Scarce looking to the right or left, we hurried to the river to take the
boat which lay tied to the shore, with steam up. As I followed on,
however, wide-eyed, I was thrown into a tremor of fright by the sight of
the savage little man who had passed us on the road, who now stood as if
awaiting our coming. With him there was another man of great stature,
but harmless-looking, with flabby cheeks and bloated hands that seemed
about to burst or drop to the ground, so limp and dangling did they
appear. This man had on some badge of office, but loosely, and not as
if it gave him honor or in any way added to his dignity. Between the
two, the man of huge frame and the pigmy by his side, there was such
contrast that for the moment I forgot my fears in staring open-mouthed.
Surely nothing more remarkable was ever seen before. The weazened,
parched-faced, pugnacious little man, frail of body, and with legs no
bigger than mopsticks, and chest as flat as a pieplate, stood erect and
eager-eyed, with the spring of a panther, though long past the prime and
vigor of life; while the other, scarce thirty years of age, was
shambling and heavy on his feet, and had about his sunken eyes and
spongy features the marks of a man fast falling to decay. The first,
any one could see, was filled to the ends of his nails with love of
life, and so had studied how to prolong it; but his companion, not
regarding such things, except as abstractions not needful for him to
consider with his huge frame and stanch stomach, was broken and winded
long before his time.
As I came up, eying them and wondering, the little man turned to his
companion, and pointing to me called in a voice I could plainly hear:
"That is the lad we are after, Blott. Lay hold of him, and see that he
doesn't get away."
Upon this the latter, winking heavily, as if to collect his wits, came
forward, and laying his hand on my arm, said:
"Hold on, my lad, I want you."
"What for?" I asked, staring at him.
"For company mebbe, and mebbe because I've a summons for you," he
answered, good-naturedly.
"A summons! What's that?" I asked, confused, not understanding fully
what he meant.
"It's the beginnin' of trouble for you, I'm afeered; but what's the
world comin' to, Pickle. Don't children learn nothin' nowdays, not to
know what a summons is?"
"Never mind that," the savage little man exclaimed; "but tell him and
march along."
"Well, sonny, it's an order to take you to court," the other answered,
placidly.
"To court!" I exclaimed, striving to free myself.
"To the justice's office, innocent. Where else could it be?" he
answered, taking a firmer hold of my jacket.
"Why? I've done nothing, for we have just got here," I answered, still
attempting to get away.
"Mebbe, but don't ask me, for blister my nose if I know; but quit
wrigglin'; you're harder to hold than an eel."
"Well, I'm not going to any justice's office," I answered, slipping out
of my jacket and starting to run.
"Hello, my bird!" he cried, catching hold of me. "Now keep quiet, or
I'll put the come-alongs on you, an' I'd hate to do that, you're so
young an' fresh."
"You are a bigger boy than he, Blott, and don't know half as much," the
little man here interposed. "What are you about? Are you going to
stand here all day wrangling with him?"
"If it was you, Pickle, I'd show you how spry I could be," Blott
answered, eying the other.
Seeing no way of escape, I called at the top of my voice to Uncle Job,
who had stopped a few feet away, and stood beside Mr. Lincoln, watching
the loading of the boat. Hearing my cry and seeing the officer, they
turned and hurried back.
"What have you got your hand on that lad for, officer?" Uncle Job asked,
as he came up.
"'Cause I'm attached to him," he answered, winking stupidly at Mr.
Lincoln.