BROTHER SMITH AND QUARTER STAKES.
"Good morning, Mr. Jones. I suppose we may call this Indian
summer--may we not?" and the missionary--for it was he--shook hands
with the hunter.
"Scarcely time for it yet," replied the latter. "But this is fine
weather, though."
"Shall you be busy to-day? I wish to find a good quarter section of
land on which to put up a house. I have been thinking that as I have
never pre-empted, and have therefore a right to do so, I may as well
do it."
The hunter laughed scornfully, and said,--
"Good many folks about here pre-empt more than once."
"But that is illegal," replied the minister.
"They don't stand about that."
"But they are obliged to take oath at the Land Office that they have
never availed themselves of the privilege."
"And they take it."
"But they perjure themselves in doing so."
"Yes."
"Well," said the clergyman, with a sigh, "I can't understand how a
person can break the laws and take a false oath for the sake of a
little land."
"Nor can I," replied the hunter, almost fiercely; "and I makes no
pretensions to _piety_, either. I pre-empted once, and afterwards sold
out; and I hev moved about considerable sence; but I have never
cheated government out of a cent yet--nor anybody, as to that. I don't
own nothing here; this is government land that my cabin sets on, and
if it was put up for sale to-day, by the proper authorities, I
couldn't say a word if it was sold, improvements and all. I have to
take my risk, and I'm contented to, rather than own the biggest farm
out doors, and get it by lying under oath. No; they calls Joseph Jones
a worthless dog, and _I_ don't say he isn't; but let me tell you,
neighbor, that I haven't it on my conscience that I went into the Land
Office and lifted up my right hand, solumly promising to speak the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and then, when I
knows that I have pre-empted once, or maybe a number of times, swear
that I never hev--as some of your praying, psalm-singing folks has!"
"Do I understand you to say, Mr. Jones, that professing Christians
living about here have done this?"
"That's _just_ what I say," replied the hunter; "and I have as much
respect for sich whining hypercrites as I have for a hissing adder:
that's why I never took much to meetin's, I suppose. What I gits, I
gits honest--don't I, pet?" and he caressed his rifle as if it were a
living thing, and understood what he said. "I brings home what the
good Lord sends inter the woods an' over the prairies fur me. 'The
cattle upon a thousand hills are his'--that's Scripter, I believe; and
it means, I take it, that the deer, and the elk, and the bear, and the
geese and the hens, belong to _him_: nobody ken say, '_I_ owns them
all,' and keep them for his own use; and when Billy, here,"--patting
his gun,--"brings down a fat buck, we feel _honest_ about it--don't
we, Bill? 'Tisn't like standing behind the counter with a smerk on yer
face, as yer cheat in weight an' measure, or sell sanded sugar for the
genuine. Many an' many's the time I've known this done, by them that
lives in fine houses, and wears fine clothes, an' goes reg'lar to
church; an' if they passed Joseph Jones, wouldn't deign to speak to
the old hunter. Not that I care about that; I don't deign to speak to
them; and if heaven is for _them_, I had just as lieves stay a while
outside, for they an' I could never git along together here, and we
couldn't be expected to there. But did you want anything perticular of
me?"
"I was told," said the missionary, "that none of the settlers
understood so well about the land, and where to find the section and
quarter section stakes as you; and I thought, if it wouldn't be taking
too much of your time, that perhaps you would show me around a
little."
"Nothin' would suit my feelings better," said the hunter. "Was there
any perticular direction you wish to go to?"
"Brother Smith tells me that here is a fine quarter section still
unclaimed;" and the clergyman took from his note-book a
roughly-sketched map of the vicinity, purporting to show what
was taken up and what was not.
"Did he give you _that_?" asked the hunter, as he ran his eye over the
paper.
"Yes; as looking up land is new to me, I was thankful to get some sort
of a guide," replied the missionary.
"I don't see much to be thankful for on that drawin'."
"Why, isn't that quarter section free?" inquired the minister,
perplexed.
"Yes; an' we'll go an' see it. But are yer goin' afoot?"
The missionary replied affirmatively.
"You'll never stand it in the world, to hunt up land in that way--too
much ground to go over. Wife," he added, putting his head in at the
door, "you jist entertain the minister, while I see if I ken scare up
a team fur him."
Mr. Jones strode off as if he had a congenial errand to do, and
striking a "bee line" across the prairie, over a river, through a
grove, halted before a cosy cottage that would remind one of New
England. The acres and acres of tilled land stretched away from the
dwelling, enclosed in the most substantial manner, and sleek cattle,
that fed in the rich pasture, bespoke competency and enterprise. He
stopped not to knock at the door, but entering, asked of a lady who
sat sewing'--
"Is yer husband about, Mrs. Lincoln?"
"Yes; he's in the other room. I'll speak to him."
And in a moment the robust form of the owner of the farm appeared.
"How are you, Jones?" he said, in an offhand way.
"O, I'm nicely. I called on an errand fur yer minister, that you've
invited to settle among us. He wants a spot for a cabin,--like the
rest of us, I suppose,--and Smith has told him to look at the quarter
section way over there, a mile and a half beyond Clark's; you know the
place. I jist want to git your team and take him over in a good,
Christian way, and not let him travel his legs off, so that he can't
preach to us sinners next Sunday."
Mr. Lincoln had been foremost in urging the missionary to cast in his
lot with them, and no one had made more promises of material aid than
he. He was sincere in this, and was really a generous man, but
exceedingly careless. He had been told that the minister was going to
look up a claim; but it had never occurred to him, until now, that the
preacher had no other conveyance than his feet, and that to walk over
the prairies would be a toilsome and time-consuming task. Slapping his
caller on the shoulder, he said,--
"Glad to see you interested, Jones; and to encourage you, I'll harness
right up, and you may take the span."
The nimble-footed steeds were soon in the buggy; and the hunter,
having taken the preacher aboard, was, in good time, pointing out to
him the boundaries of the claim. It was a lovely spot,--like many such
in Prairiedom,--and the hunter took care that it should be seen to
advantage. On a gentle swell of ground was a small gem of a grove,
commanding a view of the rest of the section. The fall flowers,
many-hued and bright-eyed, nodded gayly in the tall grass; a natural
spring, bursting from the hillock, wound its way along till lost in
the distance; the sun was pouring down its rays from a sky
fleecy-clouded and soft. How could the preacher, with his pure tastes
and cultivated love of the beautiful, help being delighted with the
scene?
"This is delightful!" he exclaimed. "I'll build my cottage right here
by the side of this spring, and my tilled land will always be in
view."
The hunter had anticipated his decision, and dryly observed,--
"It wouldn't be no sich place as yer ought to hev."
"Why not?" asked the minister, smiling.
"Do you reckon on keeping a horse?" asked the other.
"No; I couldn't afford that."
"How, then, are you goin' to git to yer appintments, an' to visit the
sick an' the dyin', from this pint? And you'll never farm it much; the
land looks nice and slick as a gentleman's lawn: this is one of the
Lord's lawns, neighbor; but 'twasn't made for you to live on. Don't
you expect to hev no evenin' meetin's? You can't hev them out here
where there's no live critter but the prairie hins, and maybe in the
winter a stray wolf or two. You're a _perfessional_ man, and it's
necessary for you to be right among folks, and not livin' off one
side, like as if you wanted to keep out the way of company."
This rugged, common-sense way of putting things was quite effective,
and the missionary said,--
"You are right. But what can I do? By this chart I find that there is
little vacant land about here, and I am unable to purchase an improved
farm at the prices at which they are held."
"You don't mean to settle down on _this_--do ye?"
"That is out of the question."
"Well, Joseph Jones isn't of much account, but if he don't show you a
bit of land that's been left for jist sich as you, then I lie like
that lying chart," he said, angrily. And motioning the preacher to
resume his seat in the buggy, the hunter drove back for some distance
in the direction from which they had come, then, striking a well-worn
cart-path to the right, suddenly emerged from a piece of woods near a
river, on the farther bank of which was a saw-mill, and in the stream
were men at work strengthening a dam.
"There," said the hunter, "is the centre of things, so fur as this
vicinity is concerned. That's the store,"--as he pointed across the
river to a small building,--"and a hotel is going up just opposite;
and the land sharks and speculators that's going to settle here will
want jist sich as you right among 'em, to stir up their consciences,
and jog their pure minds by way of remembrance,--as the Book
says,--an' not way off there!" pointing contemptuously over his
shoulder.
"But brother Smith informs me that all the land near to the town is
taken up," said the missionary.
"_Brother_ Smith--who's he? I know _Charles_ Smith; and if you kin
fellowship him, I can't. An' when you come to sift folks down,--as I
foresee sich as you will,--you won't brother him much, unless he
repints--an' I don't say he won't. Now let me introduce you to your
future home, ef you settles in these parts. There, _this_ is the town,
where we now are;" and he placed the tip of his little finger on the
place as represented on the map. "Now coming down square on to the
town-site is this eighty-acre lot; lays beautiful to the town, the
main street running right up to it. And through that street,"
continued he, impressively, "must go all the travel to the important
places beyond. And by and by, when the immigration gets strong enough,
the owner of that piece of land will hev corner lots and sich to sell.
Let me show jist how it lays;" and crossing the bridge, and passing up
the projected street, he stopped the horses on a gentle rise of
ground, forming the nearest point in the eighty acres. "There," he
continued, referring to the map again, "you see the eighty-acre lot
runs lengthwise from the town. Across it runs a tributary of the
river--just down there where you see the plum and bass-wood trees;
and beyond that are ten acres of the richest and easiest-worked river
bottom that the sun ever shone on--all fenced; then follers thirty
acres of young and valuable timber land. Here's your building spot
right here where we stand, in sight of everybody, and all the travel,
handy to the store, and saw-mill, and post-office, and sich, and handy
to meetin'; and the ten acres of alluvial, rich as the richest, and
finely pulverized as powder,--you ken plough it or hoe it jist as easy
as you ken turn your hand over,--will give you all the sarce you want,
and something to sell. And there's wood enough down over the place to
keep yer fires a going; and when you want to pre-empt, jist sell some
of yer standing timber there, to help pay for the whole, at government
price."
"But," replied the missionary, as the squatter finished his graphic
description, "I see by this chart that this is taken up;" for he had
meanwhile been examining it.
"Well," said the hunter, "whose name's writ down as the owner of this
land?"
"Henry Simonds," said the minister, reading from the paper.
"And do you know who 'Henry Simonds' may be?" asked the hunter. "It's
a young chap jist turned nineteen, and of course not old 'nough to
pre-empt, according to law, and who hasn't lived on this claim a day
in his life. There isn't a sign of a shanty on the place, and the law
requires that every man must show _something_ of a house to prove that
he is an actual settler. That name's a blind. This land jines Smith's,
and he's been carrying on the ten-acre lot over the river, rent free;
and it comes very handy for him to come in on this piece and get his
saw-logs. It's government property; and all you have to do is, to put
you up a cabin, and go ahead, and if Smith kicks up a fuss, jist send
him to me."
This revelation of duplicity on the part of Mr. Smith took the
minister by surprise. It was evident that the location would be as
advantageous for him as his plain-spoken guide had represented. It was
defrauding the government for Smith to hold it as he did; and should
he, in a legal way, take possession, no one could accuse him of wrong.
But he had not come out on the frontier to promote his worldly
interests; and he said to the hunter,--
"What you say is all right, I have no doubt, Mr. Jones; but it is not
land that I want so much as to do good among this people; and I should
not wish to do anything that would cause ill feeling."
"Just as I expected," said the squatter, with a disappointed air; "and
I rather think you belong to the kingdom that is not of this world.
But you are stopping at Edmunds's--aren't you? Well, it's only a short
piece to his cabin, and I must take the team back; but"--after
thinking a moment--"if you'll take the dam on your way, you'll find
Palmer there. He's a Christian, if there is one in these parts; and
you can depend on him; and if you choose to talk with him a bit about
this eighty-acre lot, there won't be any harm done."
The minister thanked the squatter for his services, the latter saying,
as he drove off,--
"Call on me agin, if you want anything in my line."
As the missionary passed towards the dam, he saw the surveyors at
work, dividing the town site into lots; and he paused to notice again
the location. The underbrush had been carefully removed, and the
cleared space--bounded on one hand by the river, and on the other by
the forest, while farther away from each side stretched the smooth
prairie--looked as if nature had intended it as a business centre.
"How do you like our town plot?" said a voice at his side.
"It is charming!" exclaimed the preacher; and, turning, he saw Mr.
Palmer.
He was a medium-sized man, in shirt sleeves and blue overalls, with an
old black silk hat on, which, from its bent appearance, gave one the
idea that it had on occasions been used for a seat as well as a
covering. The keen blue eyes under it, and the general contour of the
face, ending in a smoothly-shaven chin, revealed a hard-working,
frugal, money-saving character, yet honest, sincere, and unselfish. He
was, indeed,--what he struck the observer as being,--a prudent
counsellor, a true friend, a wisely-generous helper in every good word
and work. No man in the settlement was more respected than he--a
respect not based on his personal appearance, it was clear; for he had
a perfect contempt for the ostentations of dress and equipage, but due
to his straightforward and consistent deportment. He was about forty,
and unmarried, and, on account of his amiable, thrifty, and
Christianly qualities, was said to be the victim of incessant
"cap-setting" by managing mammas and marriageable daughters, and of no
little raillery on the part of the men, which he bore with great good
nature, safely escaping from each matrimonial snare, and returning
joke for joke.
"Been looking up land?" asked the bachelor.
The missionary related the day's doings, and what the squatter had
said about Mr. Smith and the eighty acres.
"Jones has stated the facts in the case," said Mr. Palmer, "and
advised well; but it won't do for you to have any falling out with
Smith. If you will leave the matter with me, I guess I can manage it
so that you shall have the eighty acres, and there be no bad feelings.
We had better pay Smith something than to have a quarrel."
"But is Smith a member of a church?" asked the missionary.
"We don't know who is who, yet," answered the other; "but should we
ever form a church here, of course he'll have to show a certificate of
membership in order to join; and I rather think he'll never be able to
do that. Do him all the good you can, but don't trust him overmuch."