As a town, Macon did not differ materially from its sister towns of like
size throughout the State. It is true it was located on the border of
the bluegrass, and this alone gave it a distinction which the
penny-royal and mountain districts did not possess. The corporate limits
of the place held about three thousand souls--black and white--and
nobody ever got in a hurry. A quiet air of indolent aristocracy pervaded
the town. Shops were opened late, and if any one wished to buy, they
were served courteously and languidly, but there was no "drumming for
trade." For all of its lazy atmosphere, it might have been located
farther south. But its people were good people, on the whole, although
they permitted saloons, and went wild over horse racing. And, best of
all, they reverenced their women. A lady on the streets of Macon had
respectful right of way. It may have been that they were duly proud of
these three things, for they knew full well that nowhere in the world
were nobler or more beautiful women, faster horses, or better whiskey.
The nabobs of central Kentucky were a distinct and exclusive class in
the years preceding the great Civil strife which freed the colored race.
They had friends about them constantly, near and from a distance. They
gave large banquets and more often drank immoderately; they dressed in
expensive and fashionable clothes, and had body servants galore. Each
gentleman had a personal valet, to shave him every morning, attend to
his wardrobe and be always within call. Another servant groomed his
favorite horse, brought it around and held the stirrup while his master
mounted, and was always on the spot when his master returned to have the
bridle reins thrown to his waiting hands.
Then came the war scourge, and the old order passed. Homes were broken
up; houses were pillaged and burned, bought and sold. Of the several
stately homes surrounding Macon, but one or two remained in the family
after the war.
The Dudleys were an old family, proud as could be, and holding manual
labor a disgrace. This faulty doctrine was due to heredity and training,
and detracted in no way from the sterling manhood and womanhood which
ran with the name. They had been wealthy people generations gone, living
freely and without stint. Then came the days when one of them became a
black sheep and killed a man while in liquor. It took most of the vast
estate to save him from the gallows. When the war ended Major Thomas
Dudley found that he had little left save a wife and child, the
homestead, a half dozen horses of purest racing strain, and an eighty
acre farm which would grow with equal abundance hemp, tobacco, corn or
wheat. He would not work; he could not work. Had a Dudley's hand ever
touched the handle of a plow? Never! Welcome genteel starvation rather
than ignoble toil! In the meantime the family had to live in befitting
manner. One by one the servants, enticed by their new-found freedom,
drifted away. At length only Peter and Aunt Frances were left, and the
Major knew that his body servant would never go, for between these two
was that subtle, adamantine bond which rarely existed, but which, once
formed, was indissoluble.
Julia grew to girlhood, and the question of her education came up. There
had never been a Dudley, male or female, who had not received a complete
college course. The Major avowed that Julia should go to boarding
school, and he signed away the remaining eighty acres with a hand which
did not tremble in order that the traditions of his family should remain
inviolate. Julia, ignorant of the sacrifice which had been made for her,
went away three successive years, coming back the last time to find her
mother dying. After Mrs. Dudley had been laid to rest in the little
cemetery east of town, the daughter stepped into her place in the
management of the household. Up to this time she had supposed her father
had plenty, but the fact that they were almost poverty stricken became
quickly revealed to her now. She met the situation with a brave and
smiling face, and employed every art she knew to cut down expenses.
About this time a number of shares of stock in the thriving Bank of
Macon were placed on the market. Then Major Dudley severed the last tie
which bound him to the old life. He was getting too old to give his
horses proper attention. He sold them, every one, retaining only a colt
not quite a year old, and bought the bank stock. He had figured out that
the dividends which this would bring would barely keep them in food and
clothing, and pay the taxes on the home. The colt which he had held back
from the sale he had given to Julia at its birth, and this was The
Prince, the last member of the stables which in years gone by had been
the wonder of all Kentucky.
Peter, born to the care of fine horses, shadowed The Prince day and
night. Though well up in the seventies, he had broken the young horse to
the saddle, and that without a fall. Then, shrewd old rascal that he
was, one balmy night he had ridden the colt out to the race track, one
mile from the town limits, and tested his speed. He had no watch
wherewith to time the exploit, but he needed none, for had he not seen
races ever since he was two feet tall! The result had been marvelous.
The Prince almost ran from under him, and he must needs cling on with
heels and hands when the horse was in motion. When he slipped from his
back in an ecstasy of joy, Peter knew that he stood beside the greatest
race-horse that had ever touched Kentucky soil! The old darkey was wild
with delight, and could hardly wait till morning to tell the Major of
his discovery. Major Dudley's face beamed when the news was given him.
"Keep it still, Peter," he counselled, "and watch him. There'll be
racing here in July next year."
Winter passed and the Spring came again, and Peter hied himself and The
Prince to the race track as soon as the earth became solid. He went
always at night, and always alone, but a rumour began to spread through
Macon and the county in general that Major Dudley's colt was a marvel,
and could make a mile in two minutes flat. Certainly the story lost
nothing by its constant re-telling, and while few believed it true, yet
everyone confided it to his neighbor as a matter of gossip.
Then came the night of the cowardly attempt upon The Prince's life.
* * * * *
The evening express from the north was due at Macon a quarter till
eleven. The night of the day upon which Major Dudley had promised to his
daughter a revelation of certain things which had been kept hidden from
her, this train was running fifteen minutes late. The engineer was
trying to make the time up, and in consequence the coaches were swaying
and jerking over the rather imperfect roadbed. Crouched in the corner of
a seat next the window sat a young man. It would have been impossible to
form any idea of his physical appearance from the uncouth position which
he had assumed. It was quite evident from this that he was traveling
entirely alone. He had slipped down in his seat until his head was below
the top of its back. His long legs were flexed so that his knees rested
against the back of the seat in front of him. His shoulders, unusually
broad and square, drooped somewhat, as from weariness; his chin was sunk
upon his shirt front, and his cap was pulled well down over his eyes, so
that only a portion of his face could be seen. The line of shadow
slanted across his face sharply just at the cheek bone, revealing below
it a smoothly shaven surface, and a chin as square and resolute as the
shoulders. In common with the majority of his fellow-passengers, he was
dozing. The conductor came unsteadily up the aisle, fumbled at his cap
band for the piece of paper sticking in it, then, observing that the man
was asleep, he shook him gently by the shoulder. The sleeper aroused
readily, and in response to "Your's next station," nodded his head, and
turned, as one will do the blackest night, to look out the window. This
not with the purpose of seeing anything, but from some inexplicable
force within.
But the young man did see something--a dull glow was discernible in the
sky, apparently a great distance away. To a sleep-befuddled brain it
looked very much like the rose tints of morning, and John Glenning
mechanically pulled out his watch, to smile at his stupidity the next
moment, for it was not yet eleven. He glanced about the car and brought
himself to an erect sitting posture with a quick exercise of the great
fund of reserve strength which he undoubtedly possessed. His shoulders
went back squarely against the seat, and his feet sought the floor.
Then, as he pushed the cap off his eyes, his face became visible. It was
a strong face, with jaw- and cheek-bones showing prominently. The
forehead was good, almost square, and over one eye was a crescent-shaped
scar, not livid, but standing out plainly against the white skin. His
hair was black and straight, and his face wore a half melancholy
expression, which seemed habitual.
After a casual and disinterested survey of the compartment, he turned to
the window again, placed his elbow upon the sill, and looked out into
the night. The glow in the distance was still there. He judged it to be
a fire, although no flames were yet visible. Just a dull red vapor
seemed suspended, like an immense ruby, against the black draped breast
of the sky, and on all sides of it the stars shone like rare gems. As
this poetic thought struck Glenning, he smiled, as though pleased at the
conception, and just then a long blast of the whistle told him that they
were approaching his station. A moment later the door was flung open,
admitting a rush of pure, sweet night air into the stuffy coach, and the
flagman passed through, touching alternate seats with either hand to
steady himself, and shouting "Macon! Macon!"
Women began to rouse soundly sleeping children, men to stretch their
arms and remark to their neighbors, and John also began to get himself
together. He was near the door, and as the train came to a halt with
jangling bell and escaping steam, he grasped his suit case and safely
made his exit before the aisle became crowded.
The place was entirely new to him, for his home had been in the north
end of the State. The engine had stopped at the edge of a bisecting
street, and just in front of it an arc light was suspended, which threw
his surroundings into view uncertainly. Back of him was the bulk of a
water tank; to the front, and at one side, the station. People were
hurrying to board the train, and packages and trunks were being hastily
dumped from the open door of the express car onto a truck drawn
alongside. A number of forms moved vaguely about--that pitiful,
shiftless class which no small town can eliminate, who had merely come
to "see the train come in." All this Glenning saw in the twinkling of an
eye, and then he started briskly up the crushed rock space which served
for a platform. Opposite the tender of the engine were two or three men,
one of them a negro, standing abreast, toeing an invisible line and
bawling lustily the names of different hotels. Glenning stopped for a
moment in front of a row of hands eagerly outstretched, and just then
the words "Union House!" came to his ears through the din of jumbled
voices. He remembered suddenly that a friend had told him this was the
best hotel in the place, so he resigned his suit case to the care of the
one who had yelled "Union House!" and fell in with the straggling line
of people streaming up town.
Above the babel of the hotel criers, and the slow, muffled puffs of the
inert engine, a new sound now throbbed through the air--the clanging,
tumultuous notes of a sharp-toned bell, rung with fury. The people
nearest John pricked up their ears, and he heard the sinister query,
"Where's the fire?" "Where's the fire?" repeated on all sides. No one
knew, and those who had been from home, and had returned on the train,
hastened their steps, some breaking into a run, for none knew whose
household goods were in danger. The panic spirit seized Glenning, too,
for henceforth his life was to be in this place, and with these people,
and he found himself running with the others. Covering a short square,
they turned into the main street of Macon, where confusion reigned. Men
were dashing about in the middle of the street, shouting to each other,
and an ancient fire engine had just been dragged into view, with the
hook-and-ladder wagon trailing in its wake. Glenning ran towards the
engine, which had halted in the center of the highway, and at which some
striplings were tugging in a vain effort to move it.
"Where's the horses? Where's the fire company?" demanded the new-comer,
hurriedly, stopping in perplexity.
"Men is the hosses that pull this old water-bug!" volunteered one of the
youths, ceasing his efforts to move the antiquated vehicle; "'n' the
fire comp'ny's anybody that's got spunk 'nough to fight fire!"
As these words were spoken a number of men reached the scene, some of
them bareheaded and wearing only shoes, trousers and shirts, and pounced
upon the engine like wolves upon a carcass.
"Come on!" "Lend a hand!" "Git holt!" "Push!" "Pull!"
These and divers other excited exclamations rang out, and in the cupola
directly overhead the brazen tongued bell sent out its warning, appeal
and encouragement in vibrant and deafening tones.
Glenning needed no spurring on. His hands were the first to fall into
place, and with rumble and rush the Macon Fire Company started on its
errand of succour. The hook-and-ladder wagon, being lighter, was dragged
along by half grown boys, who took a keen delight in emulating, both in
speed and endurance, their elders in the lead. To the accompaniment of
yelping dogs, men in vehicles and men on horseback, the procession
rushed madly up Main street, rudely disturbing the calm serenity of the
summer night. As he ran, doing his full stint of work, and more, the
athletic stranger cast his eyes about in a vain effort to locate the
conflagration. He turned to the man running nearest him.
"Do you suppose it's out? I can see no sign of it now."
"No; it ain't out! Cemetery hill's in the way. There's been nothin' to
put it out. An old white man, a girl and two old niggers couldn't do
much with a house on fire!"
Glenning noticed from the straggling houses and vacant lots that they
were nearing the edge of town.
"Where is it, anyway?" he asked. "In the country?"
The man puffed and blew before making reply.
"Mile from the court house, ever'body says. I b'lieve it's a mile and a
quarter. Seems like three or four tonight!"
He dashed the perspiration from his eyes, and settled to his work
afresh. John looked at him again, and in the dim starlight, to which his
eyes had become accustomed, he saw that the man was young and soft. His
hands showed white, his face was purple from exertion, and his breathing
was stertorous.
"Pretty tough on a fellow who stays indoors, isn't it?" queried
Glenning, pleasantly.
"You--bet! Stranger, ain't you?"
"Just came on the train tonight."
"You must be--mightily interested--in these people!"
"I'm going to make this place my home."
"Uh-huh. I know you--now. You're the--new doctor!"
"Yes. My name's John Glenning."
"Pleased to--meet you--doctor! I'm Tom Dillard. Work--in bank!"
"I'm glad to know you. You're my first acquaintance here. It's harder
work pushing a fire engine than it is pushing a pen, isn't it?"
Mr. Dillard grinned acquiescence.
"Con--_siderable_!" he gasped.
"Whose house is it that's burning?" continued Glenning.
"Must be--Major Dudley's; no other house out--here close."
At this juncture they rounded a sharp curve in the road, and came in
full view of the fire, now close at hand.
"Stable!" exploded Mr. Dillard, and everybody redoubled their exertions
at the same moment, rendering further conversation out of the question.
The surrounding landscape was brilliantly lighted by the leaping flames,
and Glenning saw that they were sweeping by a large, well kept lawn,
back of which rose a most pretentious old home. On they dashed to a
gate, which some thoughtful person had previously opened, and which let
into a meadow adjoining the stable lot. The people who had started in
buggies and on horseback had all arrived, and a number of them now came
forward to relieve the men who had brought the engine out. Most of these
willingly resigned their places, but Glenning stuck to his, and Dillard,
who was preparing to step aside, gathered fresh courage, and remained
also. The old engine was rushed furiously across the meadow and into the
lot, in the midst of a shrill bedlam of excited cries, most of them
conveying directions and suggestions entirely futile. In one corner of
the lot, near the doomed stable, an old negro was waving his arms
frantically and jumping up and down, yelling at every jump in a high
falsetto.
"Hyar's de well! Hyar's de well! Hyar's de well! Bring de ingine hyar;
Hyar's de water! Hyar's de well!"
Whether his penetrating tones reached the relief party, or whether some
person nearer to hand gave the information, does not matter. But the
engine was quickly rolled in position and the hose unwound. Peter seized
the end of the hose which was being borne towards him, and plunged it
into the well's black mouth.
"_More! More!_" he screamed, tugging at the sinuous rubber tube like a
madman. "De water's down dah! Come on wid it!"
Willing hands unwound the coil, and Peter paid it out. Down went the
hose, and presently the old negro jumped to his feet.
"_Pump!_" he shrieked; "put de water dah!"
Then, for fear he would not be understood, he ran like a monkey towards
the burning building. Stopping just outside the radius of the fiercest
heat, he pointed towards an open door.
"Dah! In dah! Pour hit in dah! De Prince won' come out! I try git 'im
out, but he won' come! Pump de water on 'im!"
In the midst of his exhortations a score of hands grasped the handles
and began to pump. But no water came! In vain the long handles went up
and down. Something had gone wrong with the mechanism of the machine. A
blacksmith was present, and he began an examination. In the meanwhile
the fire grew prodigiously, and suddenly a horse's unearthly scream of
terror and pain rent the air. Few had ever heard this sound before, and
it struck a note of horror upon every soul assembled there. The cry of a
horse in mortal distress is utterly indescribable, but it is a demon
tone which makes cowards of strong men. The mixed crowd drew back in
fear, thinking the imprisoned animal might make a sudden break and
trample them in his rush. Even the smith, who had been vainly searching
for the hitch in the pumping gear of the engine, crawled from under the
useless thing and retreated with the others. So it happened, almost
without his knowing it, that John Glenning was left standing alone by
the deserted engine. The intense glare showed up his figure well. He was
tall and lean, but his shoulders had a look of great strength, and his
face, upon which the light was dancing, was calm and purposeful. The old
negro had sunk to the ground, and with his face hidden in his crossed
arms, was rocking to and fro, moaning ceaselessly. Following the horse's
awful scream, and the subsequent rush backward, fell a dead silence,
disturbed only by the cracking and snapping of seasoned wood as the fire
ate up its fibres, and the low undertone of Peter's dolorous wails. Then
plainly to Glenning's ears came a woman's muffled sobs, and he heard a
voice tense with distress exclaim--
"My poor Prince! O my poor Prince!"
John wheeled half way around abruptly, and looked in the direction from
whence the voice had come. He beheld two people standing partly aside,
and well back. A tall, erect old man whose disordered apparel indicated
the haste with which he had dressed, and a girl clinging despairingly to
his arm, clad only in a white night robe with a shawl thrown about her
shoulders and held tightly over her breast with one clenched hand. The
old man's face was mask-like, but there was a deep furrow in the middle
of his forehead, and his eyes blazed with repressed anger. The young
woman was pitiful to the respectful but penetrating eyes of Glenning.
Her hair, braided for the night, hung over her shoulder, down to her
waist. Her face was drawn with anguish which she could not hide, and in
her big eyes was a living sorrow. As he looked at her she caught his
gaze, and upon that instant she left the old man's side, ran a few steps
forward, and with both arms stretched towards him, with her hands
clasped, her voice rang out in an agony of entreaty.
"Save The Prince! O, save him if you are a man! If he is burned to death
it will kill me! He is there--there!"
She pointed towards the open doorway before which a red veil was
shimmering and waving, then turned to the old man, threw her arms around
his neck and hid her face on his breast, while her whole form shook with
uncontrollable sobs.
Dazed for a moment by this direct appeal, and by the very evident beauty
of his petitioner, Glenning stood without moving. Then from the huddled
crowd, apathetic and silent, burst the figure of a man, running towards
the stable. He came swiftly, and Glenning saw only a low, heavily-built
person. But as he sped by the new doctor saw his face, and shuddered. It
was dark, brutish, treacherous, devilish. Then the man was gone towards
the open door. The girl had turned in time to behold this man's actions,
and on her countenance was repulsion and disgust. The onrushing form had
nearly reached his goal when a sudden shifting of the breeze
concentrated the flames and dashed them into his face with a spiteful
hiss. He stopped as though smitten, staggered and fell back, choked and
coughing. With his hands to his face he reeled over into a patch of
weeds, calling hoarsely for water. Glenning looked at the girl again,
and in her eyes was a dumb appeal. The man's mouth squared in quick
decision, and in a second his lassitude became transformed into vigorous
action. He took off his coat with a few dextrous movements, and holding
it as a shield before his face, quickly drew near the door now guarded
by a wall of shifting fire.
He felt the hot air rushing into his lungs as he advanced, but he never
flinched. Drawing a deep breath, he leaped hard, and passed over the
jealously guarded portals. Faintly to his ears came the resounding cheer
which accompanied this feat. But he had sterner work before him than to
receive merely the praise of those who watched him from a safe distance.
He was alone in a fiery furnace; caged with a maddened animal. He
realized that his work must be done at once, or he would perish
miserably.
Outside, the crowd inched nearer. Renewed silence had succeeded
Glenning's successful entrance into the stall of The Prince, and under
this strange stillness they came closer, in a body, breathing awesomely
and straining their eyes to see. But the waving curtain of flame baffled
their peering gaze. Only once they saw a dark, writhing bulk beyond the
gleaming barrier, then this was hidden. Major Dudley and Julia had not
changed their positions. But upon his face now shone the light of hope,
while the girl's was stony with despair and dread. The brief moments
were as leaden-footed hours, and time changed into eternity for the
anxious hearted watchers. No sound now but the crackling of wood and the
subtle swish of flames, and far off in the shadows at the rear of the
lot a subdued coughing, where Devil Marston crouched and nursed his
scorched lungs, and cursed the unknown man who had gone where he could
not go. The stable was large, and the conflagration was now at its
height, and it presented a gorgeous, if harrowing, spectacle. Red and
yellow and dun streamers shot skyward, shaking out their serpentine
lengths, wrapping and twining about each other, dying if a breath of
wind touched them, only to be succeeded by others, fiercer and longer
and more vivid. Crawling, hissing, crimson serpents of heat disported
over the trembling roof of the building, and myriad of sparks would rise
on columns of rose-tinted smoke when a bit of timber dropped. And deep
in the very heart of all this hell, burned, blinded, suffocated and
weak, a brave soul wrestled with imminent and torturing death, because a
woman had looked twice into his eyes and asked for help, if he were a
man!
There came a change. Less than a minute had elapsed since Glenning had
committed himself to almost certain death. Then the watchers saw a
movement at the flame-hung door. An indistinguishable something seemed
trying to force its way out. At this moment, as though fortune truly
favored the brave, the veering wind caught the red curtain and drew it
aside as gently as though done by a lady's hand. Out from the inferno
within sprang a man, his clothing covered with little red tongues, his
face blackened and his hair singed and disordered. After him, with the
man's coat bound over his head, the sleeves tied under his throat,
completely blindfolding him, came The Prince. Glenning swung on to his
halter, and as the falling sparks nipped the horse afresh he reared
hugely and lunged forward with demoniacal fury. The man's spent strength
could not cope with this final outburst. The horse bore him down,
rushed over him, and the crowd scattered right and left to seek safety.
Peter, with a shrill cry of joy, ran to the prostrate figure and drew it
farther away from the fire. As he laid the rescuer of The Prince down
Julia was there to receive his head in her lap. Her face was white as
the gown she wore, but her voice was clear as she spoke.
"Peter, go for a doctor! Daddy, bring some water, please."
She gently placed her hand upon the smoke-grimed forehead, and while the
crowd lingered to await the outcome, Devil Marston stole away with
curses deep and vile, and set his dark face towards home.