I climbed the ladder and looked out of the open window on the great,
serene and silent scene spread out before me. Great gulfs of shadows
lay under the trees, a gentle breeze stirred the branches, and their
upturned leaves glimmered silvery in the moonlight which covered the
sleeping earth as with a garment.
I undressed and knelt beside the little bed and prayed my first prayer.
Thirty-seven years had slipped past me--my wavy-brown hair was already
sprinkled with white; lines of care were on my face; girlhood gone; the
marks of age had come; I was reaching out toward two score, and I had
never prayed. Of course I had read the prayer-book, and in church I had
mumbled certain words; but now for the first time I fell on my knees
and buried my face in my hands. The hot tears came quick and fast, and
trickled through my fingers; but they were tears of joy, not sorrow. At
last life seemed to show a gleam of meaning! There was purpose in it
all, God’s purpose! I prayed that I might do His will. The only words
that came to my sobbing throat, and these I said over and over again,
were: “Oh, give me a clean heart and a right spirit!”
I got into bed, which never before seemed so welcome. I seemed to relax
every muscle and abandon myself to rest. I heard the far-away hooting
of a whippoorwill--the gentle murmur of the winds as they sighed
through the branches seemed to sing me a sweet lullaby. I imagined I
was again a child; so sweet and perfect was the rest; and I remembered
the gentle baritone voice of The Man as he had said, “Blessed are the
pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed----” I was asleep.
It seemed as if I had not slept ten minutes, but I found afterward five
hours had passed, when I was startled by a wild yelling, and a coarse,
grating, brutal voice that shouted:
“Now we have got ’em--pound in the door!”
Bang--crash it went, and the tramping of a score of feet I heard below.
I jumped from bed, and without a thought as to what I would do grabbed
the end of the ladder, and in a twinkling it was on the floor under my
feet.
“There, boys, didn’t I tell you? They’re up-stairs. There, Bill, why in
hell didn’t you ketch that ladder afore they pulled it up, or else go
up it?”
“What, you think that I’d go up that ladder alone and fight the two of
’em? Not much! Why, the man alone is a terror--and the woman, God help
us! she’d scratch my eyes out afore the rest and you could come up.”
“Hey, you, up thar, you old reprobate, we are on to you, don’t yer see?
Now come down peaceable or it’ll go hard with you.”
They waited for an answer, but not a word did I say. I hastily had put
on my dress, and stood with a little hickory-bottomed chair in my hands
near the opening in the floor through which I had pulled the ladder.
“Hain’t you goin’ to answer? Well, all right, don’t then! We’ll jist
make a bonfire on this yer floor and see if it singes yer manes.”
Some one of the rabble outside here fired a revolver several times,
but I rightly guessed this was only to frighten. I still stood firm.
Perhaps I was frightened, but if so it did not affect my strength,
for I was waiting for a head to appear at the opening, and I did not
have to wait long, for soon there was a whispered consultation below.
I heard a hoarse whisper say, “No, you go”--“Well then, Jake, you try
it,”--“Hell, who’s afraid! Here, you, give me a lift,” and a hand
grasped the edge of the floor.
I stepped back, gripped the chair and swung it aloft, and through the
floor by the glare of the torches I saw the face of Bilkson, the
junior. That chair was well on its errand before I caught sight of the
countenance; but no matter, I would not have stayed it if I could.
Crash--down went the man. I heard him fall like a dead weight, just as
I have seen a bale of hay tumbled out of a barn door.
“I’m shot! I’m shot! Run for a doctor, boys. I’m dying! A minister. Oh,
Judas! I’m shot through the brain,” I heard him scream.
“Shet up, ye dam fool! Yer haven’t any brains to shoot. Nobody’s shot.
They hit you wid a club--’ats all. Yer haven’t been hurt. Yes, by
George! yer smeller is broken, and yer had better spit out them teeth
afore yer swallers ’em. Gawd help him, boys, I’se glad it ain’t me.
He’s got a bad swipe. Well, it’s his bizness anyway, not ours. We jest
come ter see the funf an’ lend a hand if we was needed.”
Here I heard a voice coming from a little distance. “We got him! We got
him!” There was a sudden stampede below for the outside, and looking
out of the window I saw by the glare of the torches (the moon had gone
down and it was now quite dark), five or six of the ruffians holding
The Man. He offered no resistance, but two had seized either arm, and
two had hold of his collar from behind, and they were leading him
toward the house.
“We’ve got him! We’ve got him!” they shouted. “Now wasn’t he sharp?
Heard us a-coming, got out of the window, and carried the cot down
under a tree and pretended to be asleep. Oh yer can’t fool us, old
man--we’re on to you.”
“Why, Bilkson, you said he wore false whiskers and a wig--look here!”
and the young wretch gave a savage pull at the snowy beard, and a man
behind grabbed into his hair with a jerk that nearly threw The Man off
from his feet.
“Now wot’s the use of yankin’ of him around so?” said a tall young
fellow. “Look at that shoulder, will you. He kin lick any one of you if
you give him a show, and as long as he is decent and ain’t tryin’ to
get away, let up on him, will you now! I’ll vouch for him.”
At this they loosened their hold, but stood around; some with clubs,
several carried pitchforks, and two had revolvers which they brandished
and now and then fired in the air. All the while the yelling and
running talk filled the air, oaths and obscene jokes were bandied
about, and I saw that several carried bottles which were freely passed
around.
They stood outside for a minute, all asking questions of The Man. “Who
are you and where did you come from? Enticin’ foolish women out here,
that is fine bizness, ain’t it? We’ll show you!” and I saw a fist held
up close to that fine face.
One fellow took off his slouch hat and struck The Man with it, at the
same time saying: “See, I’m the only one in the gang what respects
you.” At this sally there was a big laugh. “He says he is a son of God.
You heard him say that, Jake, up at the store?”
“Yes,” said Jake, “he said not only he was a son of God but we all
is. Where is the gal--she hasn’t got away? The city gent says she is
up-stairs fixen her toilet so as to come down and receive the callers.”
“Go up again, Bilkson, and tell her I’m dead gone on her.”
The handkerchiefs tied around the face of the junior smothered the
reply, and still the rabble yelled and talked. Through a crack between
the logs I saw a bottle passed to the tall young fellow I have spoken
of, and I saw him take it and fling it far into the bushes, as he said
in a commanding voice: “Here, you fellers, I’ve seen enough of this.
We came out here with these two city gents to arrest the man and gal.
Now, what the devil are you doing, just standing around getting drunk
and yellin’ like fools?--You, old man, they’ve got you and air going to
take you to Buffalo, and the gal too, wherever she is. There’s another
city chap out in the bush. Now go ’long peaceable-like both of you, and
I’ll knock the senses out of any man what lays a hand to you. I will,
or my name ain’t Sam Scott.”
Up to this time The Man had not spoken, and I could not detect from the
flare of the torches that the calm had left his beautiful face. As a
lamb, dumb before the shearer, so opened he not his mouth. He turned
and looked at Sam Scott and said, quietly,
“Friend, we will go with you.” Then in a louder voice, which I knew was
for me, “Do not fear--no harm can come to you. We will go.” I hesitated
not a moment, but lowered the ladder, and in an instant I stood
among the rabble as they crowded about me, with faces full of wicked
curiosity, brutality and hate.