A grey-haired man stood up, and his fingers shook a little on the table.
"My lease has fallen in, and the Bureau will not renew it," he said. "I'm
not going to moan about my wrongs, but some of you know what it cost me to
break in that place of mine. You have lived on the bitter water and the
saleratus bread, but none of you has seen his wife die for the want of the
few things he couldn't give her, as I did. I gave the nation my two boys
when the good times came, and they're dead--buried in their uniform both
of them--and now, when I'd laid out my last dollar on the ranch, that the
one girl I've left me might have something when I'd gone, the Government
will take it away from me. Gentlemen, is it my duty to sit down quietly?"
There was a murmur, and the men looked at one another with an ominous
question in their eyes, until Torrance raised his hand.
"The land's not open to location. I guess they're afraid of us, and
Allonby's there on toleration yet," he said. "Gentlemen, we mean to keep
him just where he is, because when he pulls out we will have to go too.
But this thing has to be done quietly. When the official machinery moves
down here it's because we pull the strings, and we have got to have the
law upon our side as far as we can. Well, that's going to cost us money,
and we want a campaign fund. I'll give Allonby a cheque for five hundred
dollars in the meanwhile, if he'll be treasurer; but as we may all be
fixed as he is presently, we'll want a good deal more before we're
through. Who will follow me?"
Each of them promised five hundred, and then looked at Clavering, who had
not spoken. One of them also fancied that there was for a moment a trace
of embarrassment in his face; but he smiled carelessly.
"The fact is, dollars are rather tight with me just now," he said. "You'll
have to wait a little if I'm to do as much as the rest of you. I am,
however, quite willing."
"I'll lend you them," said Torrance. "Allonby, I'll make that cheque a
thousand. You have got it down?"
Allonby accepted office, and one of the other men rose up. "Now it seems
to me that Torrance is right, and with our leases expired or running out,
we're all in the same tight place," he said. "The first move is to get
every man holding cattle land from here to the barren country to stand in,
and then, one way or another, we'll freeze out the homesteaders. Well,
then, we'll constitute ourselves a committee, with Torrance as head
executive, and as we want to know just what the others are doing, my
notion is that he should start off to-morrow and ride round the country.
If there are any organizations ready, it might suit us to affiliate with
them."
It was agreed to, and Clavering said, "It seems to me, sir, that the first
question is, 'Could we depend upon the boys if we wanted them?'"
Torrance strode to an open window and blew a silver whistle. Its shrill
note had scarcely died away when a mounted man came up at a gallop, and a
band of others in haste on foot. They stopped in front of the window,
picturesque in blue shirts and long boots, sinewy, generously fed, and
irresponsibly daring.
"Boys," he said, "you've been told there's a change coming, and by and by
this country will have no more use for you. Now, if any folks came here
and pulled our boundaries up to let the mean whites from back east in,
what are you going to do?"
There was a burst of hoarse laughter. "Ride them down," said one retainer,
with the soft blue eyes of a girl and a figure of almost matchless
symmetry.
"Grow feathers on them," said another. "Ride them back to the railroad on
a rail."
"I scarcely think that would be necessary," said Torrance quietly. "Still,
you'd stand behind the men who pay you?"
There was a murmur that expressed a good deal, though it was inarticulate,
and a man stood forward.
"You've heard them, sir," he said. "Well, we'll do just what you want us
to. This is the cattle-baron's country, and we're here. It's good enough
for us, and if it means lots of trouble we're going to stay here."
Torrance raised his hand, and when the men moved away turned with a little
grim smile to his guests. "They'll be quite as good as their word," he
said.
Then he led them back to the table, and when the decanter had gone round,
one of the younger men stood up.
"We want a constitution, gentlemen, and I'll give you one," he said. "The
Cedar District Stockraisers' Committee incorporated to-day with for sole
object the defence of our rights as American citizens!"
Clavering rose with the others, but there was a little ironical smile in
his eyes as he said, "If necessary against any unlawful encroachments made
by the legislature!"
Torrance turned upon him sternly. "No, sir!" he said. "By whatever means
may appear expedient!"
The glasses were lifted high, and when they had laid them down the men
rode away, though only one or two of them realized the momentous issues
which they and others had raised at about much the same time. They had
not, however, met in conclave too soon, for any step that man makes
forward towards a wider life is usually marked by strife, and the shadow
of coming trouble was already upon the land. It had deepened little by
little, and the cattle-barons had closed their eyes, as other men who have
held the reins have done since the beginning, until the lean hands of the
toilers fastened upon them, and fresh horrors added to an ancient wrong
were the price of liberty that was lost again. They had done good service
to their nation, with profit to themselves, and would not see that the
times were changing and that the nation had no longer need of them.
Other men, however, at least suspected it, and there was an expectant
gathering one hot afternoon in the railroad depot of a little wooden town
where Grant stood waiting for the west-bound train. There was little to
please the eye about the station, and still less about the town. Straight
out of the great white levels ran the glistening track, and an unsightly
building of wood and iron rose from the side of it, flanked by a towering
water-tank. A pump rattled under it, and the smell of creosote was
everywhere. Cattle corrals ran back from the track, and beyond them
sun-rent frame houses roofed with cedar shingles straggled away on the one
hand, paintless, crude, and square. On the other, a smear of trail led the
dazzled vision back across the parched levels to the glancing refraction
on the horizon, and the figure of a single horseman showing dimly through
a dust cloud emphasized their loneliness. The town was hot and dusty, its
one green fringe of willows defiled by the garbage the citizens deposited
there, and the most lenient stranger could have seen no grace or beauty in
it. Yet, like many another place of the kind, it was destined to rise to
prosperity and fame.
The depot was thronged that afternoon. Store and hotel keeper, citizens in
white shirts and broadcloth, jostled blue-shirted cattle men, while here
and there a petty politician consulted with the representative of a
Western paper. The smoke of cigars drifted everywhere, and the listless
heat was stirred by the hum of voices eager and strident. It was evident
that the assembly was in an expectant mood, and there was a murmur of
approbation when one newspaper man laid hold of Grant.
"I couldn't light on you earlier, but ten minutes will see us through," he
said. "We'll make a half-page of it if you'll let me have your views. New
epoch in the country's history! The small farmer the coming king! A
wood-cut of the man who brought the first plough in."
Larry Grant laughed a little. "There are quite a few ahead of me, and if
you spread my views the barons would put their thumb on you and squeeze
you flat," he said. "On the other hand, it wouldn't suit me if you sent
them anything I told you to publish."
The man appeared a trifle embarrassed. "The rights of the Press are sacred
in a free country, sir," he said.
"Well," said Grant drily, "although I hope it will be, this country isn't
quite free yet. I surmise that you don't know that the office of your
contemporary farther east was broken into a few hours ago, and an article
written by a friend of mine pulled out of the press. The proprietor was
quietly held down upon the floor when he objected. You will hear whether I
am right or wrong to-morrow."
What the man would have answered did not appear, for just then somebody
shouted, and a trail of smoke swept up above the rim of the prairie. It
rose higher and whiter, something that flashed dazzlingly grew into shape
beneath it, and there was a curious silence when the dusty cars rolled
into the little station. It was followed by a murmur as an elderly man in
broad white hat and plain store clothing, and a plump, blue-eyed young
woman, came out upon the platform of a car. He wore a pair of spectacles
and gazed about him in placid inquiry, until Grant stepped forward. Then
he helped the young woman down, and held out a big, hard hand.
"Mr. Grant?" he said.
Grant nodded, and raised his hat to the girl. "Yes," he said. "Mr.
Muller?"
"Ja," said the other man. "Also der fräulein Muller."
There was a little ironical laughter from the crowd. "A Dutchman," said
somebody, "from Chicago. They raise them there in the sausage machine. The
hogs go in at one end, and they rake the Dutchmen out of the other."
Muller looked round inquiringly, but apparently failed to discover the
speaker.
"Dot," he said, "is der chestnut. I him have heard before."
There was good-humoured laughter--for even when it has an animus an
American crowd is usually fair; and in the meanwhile five or six other men
got down from a car. They were lean and brown, with somewhat grim faces,
and were dressed in blue shirts and jean.
"Well," said one of them, "we're Americans. Got any objections to us
getting off here, boys?"
Some of the men in store clothing nodded a greeting, but there were others
in wide hats, and long boots with spurs, who jeered.
"Brought your plough-cows along?" said one, and the taunt had its meaning,
for it is usually only the indigent and incapable who plough with oxen.
"No," said one of the newcomers. "We have horses back yonder. When we want
mules or cowsteerers, I guess we'll find them here. You seem to have quite
a few of them around."
A man stepped forward, jingling his spurs, with his jacket of embroidered
deerskin flung open to show, though this was as yet unusual, that he wore
a bandolier. Rolling back one loose sleeve he displayed a brown arm with
the letters "C. R." tattooed within a garter upon it. "See this. You've
heard of that mark before?" he said.
"Cash required!" said the newcomer, with a grin. "Well, I guess that's not
astonishing. It would be a blame foolish man who gave you credit."
"No, sir," said the stockrider. "It's Cedar Range, and there's twenty boys
and more cattle than you could count in a long day carrying that brand. It
will be a cold day when you and the rest of the Dakotas start kicking
against that outfit."
There was laughter and acclamation, in the midst of which the cars rolled
on; but in the meanwhile Grant had seized the opportunity to get a
gang-plough previously unloaded from a freight-car into a wagon. The sight
of it raised a demonstration, and there were hoots, and cries of
approbation, while a man with a flushed face was hoisted to the top of a
kerosene-barrel.
"Boys," he said, "there's no use howling. We're Americans. Nobody can stop
us, and we're going on. You might as well kick against a railroad; and
because the plough and the small farmer will do more for you than even the
locomotive did, they have got to come. Well, now, some of you are keeping
stores, and one or two I see here baking bread and making clothes. Which
is going to do the most for your trade and you, a handful of rich men, who
wouldn't eat or wear the things you have to sell, owning the whole
country, or a family farming on every quarter section? A town ten times
this size wouldn't be much use to them. Well, you've had your
cattle-barons, gentlemen most of them; but even a man of that kind has to
step out of the track and make room when the nation's moving on."
He probably said more, but Grant did not hear him, for he had as
unostentatiously as possible conveyed Muller and the fräulein into a
wagon, and had horses led up for the Dakota men. They had some difficulty
in mounting, and the crowd laughed good-humouredly, though here and there
a man flung jibes at them; while one, jolting in his saddle as his broncho
reared, turned to Grant with a little deprecatory gesture.
"In our country we mostly drive in wagons, but I'll ride by the stirrup
and get down when nobody sees me," he said. "The beast wouldn't try to
climb out this way if there wasn't something kind of prickly under his
saddle."
Grant's face was a trifle grim when he saw that more of the horses were
inclined to behave similarly, but he flicked his team with the whip, and
there was cheering and derision when, with a drumming of hoofs and rattle
of wheels, wagons and horsemen swept away into the dust-cloud that rolled
about the trail.
"This," he said, "is only a little joke of theirs, and they'll go a good
deal further when they get their blood up. Still, I tried to warn you what
you might expect."
"So!" said Muller, with a placid grin. "It is noding to der franc tireurs.
I was in der chase of Menotti among der Vosges. Also at Paris."
"Well," said Grant drily, "I'm 'most afraid that by and by you'll go
through very much the same kind of thing again. What you saw at the depot
is going on wherever the railroad is bringing the farmers in, and we've
got men in this country who'd make first-grade franc tireurs."