CAPTAIN LINCOLN
John Rutledge and John McNeil were discussing Abe Lincoln as they sat
around a low-burning fire on an early April evening. John Rutledge had
just announced it as his opinion that Abe Lincoln had uncommon stuff in
him and would make his mark in the world some way.
"I think Abe is a fine fellow," John answered, "but he'll never get
anywhere."
"What makes you think that?"
"He doesn't know enough to get on the right side of a question. He's
always taking up for something like nigger slaves. How's a man going to
get anywhere in politics taking up with such notions?"
"I've never heard him say much about negro slaves, one way or another,"
Rutledge said. "But the general principle of one man being held as
property by another man, that's what Abe Lincoln gets after, and I
think he's right."
"Do you know what he's taking up for now?" John McNeil asked.
"Haven't heard. What is it?"
"Indians, he's taking up for our enemies the Indians. A lot of the
fellows were talking about the Indians. Ole Bar was telling the way
they poison their arrows. He told some of the most blood-curdling
cruelties you ever heard."
"And Abe Lincoln took up for the cruelties?"
"Not exactly that, but he said the Indians didn't do any worse than we
would. They try to kill us and go at it the best way they know how.
We try to kill them and, having bullets instead of arrows, kill more
of them. Besides, he says this country belonged to them before it did
to us, and we got it just as a big dog gets a bone away from a little
dog. And he said more. He said that we, professing to be civilized and
Christians, break our promises and treaties worse than they do."
Rutledge took his pipe from his mouth and slowly exhaled a thin cloud
of smoke. Then he said: "Well, John, the only thing the matter with
this is that it's all true."
"Maybe so," McNeil admitted. "But what's it going to get him, taking up
for slaves and Indians."
"And poor little children whose fathers beat them, and women dying
alone in the forest?"
It was Ann who asked this question. She had been sitting by her little
sewing-table, mending stockings.
"That's what I'm asking," John McNeil repeated. "How's a man going to
make money, fighting customers who swear in his store, or leaving his
shop to hunt folks who have paid him a penny too much; or to get votes,
taking up for folks that haven't any?"
The young man spoke quite seriously. John Rutledge laughed and then
said: "It's the principle of things that counts. At present, however,
only local issues are being discussed. On these Abe Lincoln is what we
want."
"You'll lose your vote if you cast it for him. He'll never get anywhere
politically. Mark what I tell you."
* * * * *
It was only a few days after this that the entire New Salem community
was thrown into great excitement by news of an Indian invasion.
Treaties had been broken and Black Hawk, the head of the warring Sacs,
was again on the war path.
A company was immediately formed in New Salem to go out against the
redskins. While the organization was yet forming, a demand was made
for Abe Lincoln as captain.
He had a rival for the position and the choice was to be made by vote,
each man as he voted to take his place behind the man of his choice.
The voting progressed briskly. When it was finished the line headed by
Abe Lincoln was three times as long as that of his rival. Great cheers
were given, and Lincoln himself was exuberant with joy. A good horse
was brought to him, the stirrups were lengthened, and he mounted. Some
there were who had never seen him on a horse, perhaps. But now to the
shouts of on-lookers and members of his company, he showed himself a
horseman of experience and the angular lines of his body took on a
really military bearing.
With horses prancing and men shouting and calling, a parade was formed
to march up the one street of New Salem. It was a motley crowd, some of
them in buckskin, some in foxed and homespun breeches, with a generous
sprinkling of coon-skin caps, that formed the company of Captain
Lincoln. In addition to the Clary Grove gang, Wolf Creek patriots were
there and the rowdies from Sand Town, and it was freely conceded by
the cool-headed men of New Salem that not a man could handle such a
crowd save Abe Lincoln.
Ann Rutledge looked on with smiling face and clapped her hands and
shouted when Lincoln went prancing by on his good horse, his face
bright with excitement and his black hair flying back from his forehead
in the wind. But a shadow came over her face the night after the
parade, and during the next few days, when every woman in town was
foxing breeches for the Company, she tried to see him, for she had
something to say.
Unable to find an opportunity she sent Sis to tell him Ann had
something to give him before he went away.
He came at once, and Mrs. Rutledge told him Ann was somewhere in the
back yard.
He found her in the garden where a few peach trees were struggling into
bloom.
"I've come, Ann," he said, stopping before her. "You sent for me,
didn't you?"
"Yes, Abraham Lincoln. There's something I want to say to you before
you go away. I've been holding it against you--but I want to tell you
that I forgive you."
"Forgive me!" he said in astonishment. "What did I ever do to you that
I should need forgiveness for?"
"Don't you remember the quilting-bee?" she asked, her face flushing
slightly.
"And you forgive me?"--he asked the question seriously. Then he
laughed. "Don't forgive. Forgiveness might tempt me to do it again.
Just remember as I go away that I'm not afraid of wolves or bears or
catamounts or snakes or Indians, or any living creature--except women.
It's women I'm afraid of," and he laughed.
The flush yet showed on Ann's face and her voice was a bit unsteady as
she said, "And there's something else."
"What is it, Ann?"
"I--I don't want anything to harm you. I want you to come back sound
and well."
There was pleading in her eye and a hint of quaver in her voice.
Abe Lincoln regarded her thoughtfully a moment. Her blue eyes did not
shift before his steady gaze.
"Why do you want me to return unharmed?" he asked.
"Because you are kind to the weak and forgotten folks of earth, and not
many think of this kind: because I think often what the child said."
"What child?"
"The beaten and abused child of old Kelly that you saved from more
pain."
"What was it the child said?"
"'God came,'" she said. "'And his name was Abe Lincoln.'"
There was an almost imperceptible twitching in Abe Lincoln's face.
"There are many children," she continued, "many suffering, sad and
helpless ones who need a strong friend to help them. My father says you
have a future. I want you to come back to your future."
"Do not fear for me. I will come back--to my future. Good-bye." And he
held out his hand.
"First, may I pin a sprig of wild plum on your coat for luck? It's
almost too early for them yet and I searched the thicket before I found
this, which looks as if it had only half opened its white eyes, but
it gives out its springtime fragrance to stir up happy memories and
hopes."
Abe Lincoln held out the lapel of his coat. "Look at me, Ann," he said
when she had fastened the flower there.
She raised her eyes. They were rimmed with tears.
Abe Lincoln stared a minute as if wholly unable to comprehend the girl;
then he said: "Good-bye, Ann, take care of yourself," and he turned
hurriedly away.