Court day brought ever a large and motley crowd to town.
It is the farmer's levee, his monthly holiday--a proper time for
friendly intercourse and barter. Usually busied in the field or about
the farm, he sees little of the social or business world except through
the medium of county court day.
On such occasions most of the tillers of the soil quit work and come in
from the surrounding country and the neighboring hills--even from
further outlying villages and adjacent counties. Some come on business,
some on pleasure bent, but whether for recreation or profit, a goodly
crowd convenes, the day in itself an all-sufficient excuse for the act.
A Kentucky court day possesses a marked social feature peculiarly its
own. The men meet friends and neighbors in a social mood; renew
acquaintances of long standing, and enjoy making new ones; they
exchange political opinions, disseminate local news, trade, swap, buy or
sell; the women come to town, exchange country produce for shopping
bargains, and learn something of the prevailing mode from their more
stylish sisters who are in closer touch with the outer world.
Occasionally it comes to pass that personal grievances and feuds of long
standing, or even family differences, are settled by a court day
encounter, wherein the all-too-ready knife or pistol helps to play the
tragic part; but oftener a spirit of good-fellowship prevails, and the
social glass binds friendly neighbors into boon companions.
There is yet a more God-fearing element--the bone and sinew of pioneer
strength and hardy manhood, men of simple faith, who walk sedately in
the paths of sobriety and peace, whose lives are as quiet and gentle as
the folk who once "dwelt in the basin of Minas." And in all, it is a
strangely mixed gathering of good and evil--a Kentucky court day.
A larger crowd than usual was in town on this particular October
morning. Most of the crops had been laid by, and even the more careful
husbandmen felt as if they might safely indulge in a holiday without
disquieting thoughts of work done and duties neglected; but there were
other reasons yet to account for the large attendance on this day.
An undercurrent of suppressed excitement was manifest throughout the
community, for the recent toll-gate raids, and the rumored threats
against gates still standing in the county, made the question of free
roads an all-absorbing topic.
The greater number of farmers were in favor of no toll, as was naturally
the case, though some suggested a new and lower scale of rates, while
the more conservative looked with apprehension on the spirit of
lawlessness that seemed suddenly to flame into a passion that might grow
alarmingly akin to anarchy, if the destructive tendency were left
unchecked.
These more prudent, law-abiding men counseled patience and forbearance
until the voice of the people should decide the question of free roads
at the next election, and the slow-moving machinery of legislation give
by purchase the right of travel without the payment of toll, which many
cried out against as an unjust and excessive tariff.
A discordant note had for a long time prevailed among these dwellers of
the hills in opposition to the turnpike corporations, and this
antagonistic spirit had intensified and spread, slowly leavening the
disquiet, until it had become dangerously like a hot-bed of communism,
only waiting for a daring hand to stir it into flame and action, and now
this had finally come to pass.
The recent bold work of the raiders was guardedly discussed in public,
for one did not always know but that a partisan to the cause might be
the listener. A few non-partisans who had been overbold in their
denunciation of the raiders' methods of acquiring free roads, had
received anonymous letters warning them to silence, while a crude
drawing of hangman's noose, or skull and crossbones lent significant
weight to the message.
Since the burning of the Cross Roads gate, the county court had offered
a reward of two hundred dollars for information that would lead to the
apprehension and capture of any of the raiders, while numerous rumors
were afloat concerning them. It was hinted that Maggie O'Flynn had
recognized two or three members of the band the night of the attack on
the gate, and that several arrests would soon follow.
Men from adjacent counties brought the news of toll-gates raided near
their homes. The infection was rapidly spreading, and it seemed that the
fiat had gone forth dooming the collecting of tolls, and forecasting the
speedy downfall of all the gates.
Several times through the day Squire Bixler saw the man with whom he had
held converse the previous night, but on meeting him now, in the broad
light of day, an indifferent nod on the one hand, and a friendly,
"Howdy, Squire!" on the other, was all that passed between the two men.
Milton Derr was also in town, but no recognition whatever took place
between him and his uncle when they met by chance some two or three
times, face to face, on the crowded street.
The Squire shrewdly kept his eyes open and tried to bear in mind the
different persons his confidential informant held converse with during
the day; but this one was here and there, with a nod, a hand-shake or a
friendly greeting, having, it seemed, no especial business with any one.
Along toward five o'clock (for the dusk came on early these brief
October days) the Squire got his horse and started homeward. He had
chosen to ride a horse on this occasion, for he did not wish to be
importuned to give any one a seat in his buggy on the way back, and
there was no prospect of having the pretty toll-gate keeper for company,
for she was helping her mother collect toll, as it was court day.
Moreover, for special reasons of his own, the Squire desired to be
alone.
He jogged along at a moderate pace until he reached the top of the first
hill; then he let his horse drop into a slow walk, for, on looking back,
he saw in the waning light a horseman approaching from the town, and
judging that it was the person he wanted to see, he came to a halt in
the road when the overhanging elm was reached.
"What news?" asked he, as the other rode up.
"The night riders will be out again tonight, sure an' certain."
"About what time will they make a raid?"
"Along towards midnight--perhaps a little later."
"And what gate will they attack?"
"This one," answered his companion, nodding down the road.
"What! the New Pike gate?" exclaimed the Squire.
"Yes, it was decided at the last moment by the captain."
"Humph! I shouldn't think Milt would want to take a hand in that,"
muttered the Squire, reflectively.
"He don't know yet that it's to be this one, I think; but even if he
did, he wouldn't dare to refuse to go along. He's taken the oath to obey
the orders that are given him, an' now he'll have to do it, whether it
pleases him or not. You'll have that other hundred all right when I come
to see you tomorrow night or the next?"
"That's what I agreed to do, isn't it?" demanded the Squire, testily.
"Yes, of course, Squire, of course, only I wanted to remind you so you
wouldn't forget to have it on hand, an' in small bills, too. A man
don't feel like riskin' his neck at this business, you know, unless he's
sure of gettin' well paid for it."
"You've already received more than yours is worth, I'm thinking,"
growled the Squire. "If things turn out all right, though, and the young
man is safely jailed, I shan't mind giving you the extra hundred out of
my own pocket," added he, melting into good humor again, as he rode off
homeward.