NON-RESISTANCE.
It was the custom of the Pioneers to send once a week to Union Mills in
order to do their necessary marketing and to get the post, which came
there twice a week from Kansas City by stage-coach. The subject of the
post was one that had been rather hotly debated at Perfection City,
although to the outsider it would seem a very harmless topic, and not
fruitful of division. The fact was, however, that there was only one
member of the Community who showed any eagerness about getting letters
regularly and often, and that member was Madame. She indeed did receive
a most unconscionable number of letters and periodicals, so the other
members thought. She got several American Magazines, such as the
Atlantic Monthly and Harper’s, but she also received English papers, and
French ones, and occasionally German ones as well. The Community
thought, but did not dare to give public expression to the thought, that
Madame should have rested content with the mental sustenance provided by
themselves for home consumption. Brother Wright in particular felt
himself equal to the task of providing everybody with all they needed in
the way of correct views upon even the highest subjects. But Madame,
although she listened with politeness and apparent attention to what he
had to say, found this sustenance too meagre for the wants of her
nature. Moreover she took a deep interest in the affairs of the outside
world, an interest almost offensive to persons who prided themselves
upon having risen above the world and all its concerns. It was really
humiliating to think that the leading spirit of their Community should
occupy her mind with the relations between Prussia and Austria, when
such questions as affected the future of humanity and of Perfection City
were what filled their souls. She even evinced a keen interest in the
career and personality of the Prussian minister, Bismarck, and that,
too, when Brother Wright was willing to give her the light of his
thoughts upon all really important questions. It was painful to the
feeling of the Pioneers, who were all in all to themselves and wished to
be so to others, but they had to put up with it, since Madame was their
leader and, moreover, the only one who had a purse with some money in
it. Ezra was the only member of the Community who sided with Madame in
her taste for reading the new books and the latest periodicals. He and
she had that taste, with many others, in common, and it drew them
together in an especial degree. On his last trip East during the winter,
when he had been so unexpectedly delayed, as they now knew, by meeting
with his fate in the shape of Olive, one of his commissions had been to
bring back a box of books, which were now arranged in neat shelves in
Madame’s private sitting-room. And yet notwithstanding all these books,
a hundred or more, the steady stream of papers, periodicals, and
magazines continued as before, and had to be fetched regularly from
Union Mills.
The brethren took it in turns to go to the town, which was some ten
miles distant, and they always combined some useful business with the
fetching of the letters. Brother Wright was a frequent messenger, for he
liked going better than Ezra did, while of course Brother Dummy was
precluded by his affliction from going, and Brother Carpenter was
hopelessly unable to drive horses. Some of the women generally contrived
to find an excuse for going to Union Mills, for women like to get away
from the petty cares of house and home, a peculiarity from which the
sisters of Perfection City were by no means exempt. In particular Mrs.
Ruby, invariably called Aunt Ruby, loved to go. She thus got a chance of
seeing new faces and talking with new people. She would not for worlds
have confessed that she was tired of the restricted society of
Perfection City, but she knew so well what each had to say, that it was
refreshing to go out sometimes into the world and meet people whose
ideas could not always be guessed beforehand.
It so happened that the day after the corn planting it became necessary
to go to Union Mills in order to take a grist of corn to be ground.
Madame suggested that Brother Wright should go, while Brother Dummy took
up his plough-handles and finished the field the former was preparing
for the corn. Mary Winkle, still prostrated by the previous day’s hard
work, urged her spouse to go, “For then,” said she, “if you ain’t here I
needn’t get any dinner. I’ll just send Willette over to Sister Olive’s
for dinner, and I needn’t stir till milking time.” This seemed a happy
arrangement, and her husband set off shortly after breakfast, picking up
Aunt Ruby as he passed her cottage.
“Be you lonesome living in that house by yourself?” asked Brother Wright
as they jogged along over the prairie, for it had struck him as very
lonely that morning as he drove up.
“No, no, I ain’t lonely, least not most whiles,” answered Aunt Ruby, an
alert little old woman, not unlike a bird in her quick movements. “In
the summer-time there’s allus the chickens to see to an’ feed an’ ten’,
an’ chickens is powerful spry an’ talkin’ birds. They most allus has
somethin’ to scold an’ chatter ’bout, chickens an’ hens has, an’ cocks.
Then in the winter I hev the clock tickin’ loud o’ evenin’s, an’ that’s
most as good as a pusson in the room, an’ there’s allus the cat, an’
mostly the kettle singin’ on the stove. Come to think on’t, there’s a
heap o’ company in a house like mine, if you on’y has ears to hear an’
un’erstan’ what is said by beasts an’ things.”
Yet notwithstanding this “heap o’ company” Aunt Ruby dearly loved a good
gossip with the saddler’s wife at Union Mills, whenever that luxury was
attainable. On the present occasion Aunt Ruby had a real good time, for
Brother Wright was delayed longer than usual, first in order to get some
harness mended, and afterwards to have a shoe replaced that suddenly
showed signs of coming off one of the horses. Thus it was very near
sun-down before they left Union Mills. Aunt Ruby, owing in large measure
to her gossip, and also partly to an exceptionally strong cup of tea,
was in a highly nervous and excitable frame of mind.
Had Brother Wright, she asked, heard of that rumour about the Cherokees?
And did he think there was any danger of their leaving their Reservation
and going on the war-path? Brother Wright, who had a poor opinion of
Indians, and a worse one of the way in which the white men had treated
them, thought on the whole that the rumour might be considered false.
This comforted Aunt Ruby, to whom the word “Injun” suggested torture and
death and all sorts of horrors. She remained comforted until she
remembered that other rumour—about the raid of border ruffians from out
of Missouri. Brother Wright thought it highly probable that this rumour
might prove to be true. Missouri men had raided Kansas more than once,
and it was possible they might do so again at any moment. With
conversation such as this they came to the end of the daylight and the
beginning of the trees around Cotton Wood Creek about the same time.
“I shall be glad when we are safe over this ford and out of the dark
wood beyond,” said Brother Wright, trying to urge his horses along, but
he had a heavy load of timber and coal and some iron bars for
smith-work.
“Ain’t it near here that those people over beyond Jacksonville got
robbed?” asked Aunt Ruby, nervously peering about in the gloom with her
weak old eyes. At this moment some distant creature made a shrill scream
or howl.
“Oh! what was that,” exclaimed Aunt Ruby nervously.
“That was a prairie wolf, I guess,” answered Brother Wright quietly.
Silence followed, except for the creaking of the waggon, the straining
of the horses at their traces, and an occasional clang made by one of
the bars of iron which was not sufficiently wedged up with hay.
“If those Missouri border ruffians came to Perfection City, do you
reckon our principles would save us from being robbed?” asked Aunt Ruby.
“Most everybody knows as we are non-resistants.”
“I don’t think our principles would stand in the way of a Missouri man.
More likely they would take advantage of them. They are mean cusses, and
are used to riding rough-shod over principles and rights. It is a
recognised thing everywhere that women and children are non-resistants,
yet that does not save ’em from being raided and robbed by border
ruffians.”
“And you think they would rob us, peaceful folks as ha’n’t no arms nor
nothin’?” asked Aunt Ruby anxiously.
“I guess they would try,” replied Brother Wright.
“Then I think as we oughter reconsider our principles a mite,” said Aunt
Ruby. “For if we are robbed and killed by folks as can’t un’erstan’ the
higher life, we shan’t be able to teach the world nothin’. An’ what’s
the good o’ principles when you’re dead an’ gone an’ undergroun’?”
“That is so,” assented Brother Wright.
“I didn’t never think on’t in this light afore,” said Aunt Ruby. “It
’pears to me as how we should meet together an’ try an’ settle some way
as how we can keep our principles an’ yet live on the prairie.”
“I guess you’ve pretty nearly said the truth,” said Brother Wright.
“What we hev to do is to live here an’ show ’em our principles at work,
an’ not die straightway afore we’ve done anything to improve mankind.
That’s my view,” said Aunt Ruby. “What do you think, Brother Wright?”
Instead of answering Brother Wright pulled up short and looked intently
in front of him.
“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Aunt Ruby in a high-pitched voice of
alarm.
“Hush!” replied her companion, “don’t make a noise.”
Aunt Ruby’s heart began to beat violently. “Do you see anything?” she
asked in a whisper.
“I see a man over there by the road, sitting on horseback with his right
arm out pointing towards the waggon.”
“Oh! brother, I wish you had a carnal weapon of defence,” said Aunt Ruby
in a shaking voice.
“I have,” replied Brother Wright, pulling an uncommonly useful-looking
Colt’s revolver from his breeches pocket. “I always carry one in case of
Injuns.”
Again they sat silent for a moment, the horses shook their heads, and
one of them stamped a foot.
“Who goes there?” hailed Brother Wright in a loud defiant voice. “Drop
that right arm of yours or I’ll fire.”
No answer.
The figure sat motionless, the right hand still raised in that menacing
attitude.
“I am a man of my word,” said Brother Wright, rising to his feet and
sighting his revolver steadily on the figure, while to Aunt Ruby he
said, “Hold on tight, the horses will jump.”
A shot rang out on the still night air. The horses nearly jumped out of
their skins with fright, and would certainly have run away, only the
waggon was very heavy, and they decided to run in different directions.
Hence they only jerked each other almost to the ground and then stood
still amazed and trembling.
“Better make sure,” said Brother Wright, emptying another barrel at the
figure which appeared to remain motionless in the uncertain foggy light.
This time the horses came to the same conclusion and tried to turn round
abruptly, but the attempt was expertly frustrated by Brother Wright and
a cowhide whip of exceptional stinging power. Having thus reduced the
horses to reason, he again turned his attention to the figure and saw
with amazement that it still sat on horseback in the same spot.
“Well, I swan!” said Brother Wright, rubbing his eyes. “That beats all!
It can’t be a mortal man, or he would have either dropped or returned
fire. I guess I’ll drive on and do no more shooting this time.”
He stowed his pistol away in his pocket and drove on.
“Hadn’t you better keep the weapon handy?” suggested Aunt Ruby. “You
might lay it down in my lap, if you like.”
“No, thank’ee,” replied Brother Wright. “I don’t generally give that
sort of thing to women to hold for me.”
He pulled up at a little opening just near the ford, where the faint
light of a crescent moon showed between the bare branches of the trees,
and a sort of water-fog hung along the elder bushes by the banks.
“This is the spot he was standing,” remarked Wright, “the exact spot. I
guess I’ll just look and see if there is any trail. The ground is soft
about here and should show up pretty clear.”
He descended from the waggon and carefully examined the side of the
road, but could see nothing. There was a large stump with a broken
branch sticking out which attracted his attention, and he walked around
it a couple of times, surveying it critically in the uncertain light.
“Well, I swan!” he exclaimed, after the third inspection. “I didn’t
think I could have been mistaken.”
Then he climbed back into the waggon, and said, “Gee-up!”
“Did you fin’ any tracks o’ robbers?” asked his companion anxiously.
“No,” replied Brother Wright, “no tracks of robbers, but I lighted on
the trail of a doggauned fool. Guess we’ll not say much about the attack
made on our waggon, at Little Cotton Wood Creek.”
“I won’t mention it at all,” remarked Aunt Ruby, “’cause it might
frighten the folks up to Perfection City an’ make ’em uneasy ’bout
coming to Union Mills.”
Brother Wright only chuckled in reply, possibly because his whole
attention was required at this juncture to get his horses and waggon
safely through the water, for it was certainly very dark in that
bottom-land. Once the creek was crossed and the high prairie reached, it
became easy enough to see by the light of the new moon and the stars,
and the pair reached Perfection City in safety, although very late.
Brother Wright was very eager to unravel the mystery of that horseman at
the ford on Little Cotton Wood Creek, so he made a private expedition
thither on horseback as soon as he could frame an excuse for a morning’s
absence. He went to the place whence he had first seen the alarming
stranger, half closed his sharp grey eyes, and looked.
“Well, I swan!” he remarked, as this expression seemed somehow to
relieve his feelings. By daylight there was nothing suspicious to be
seen, but the old stump with the broken branch sticking out from it
straight towards the spectator. Brother Wright surveyed this stump
critically and came to the conclusion that with the help of darkness, a
slight mist, a new moon, and a nervous companion, the old stump might
take on an alarming aspect. He rode up to the stump, got off his horse,
and examined it.
“I should like to know that I hit him plumb with both bullets anyhow,”
remarked he, with a grin most unbecoming to a Perfection City
non-resistant. He had hit “him” plumb, but so had other people, and the
amazed Brother Wright counted no less than seventeen bullet holes, both
old and new, in the body of that long suffering stump.
“Well, I be jiggered!” said Brother Wright as he mounted his horse.
“What a sight of blamed fools there must be in the world!” and with this
comforting reflection he rode home, and ever after held his peace about
the episode on the ford of Little Cotton Wood Creek. And so likewise did
Aunt Ruby, that talkative old lady. But sometimes, when she and Brother
Wright looked into each other’s eyes, they grinned a little sheepishly,
showing that the recollection of it had not quite faded from their
minds.