CHAPTER II.
THE FIRE SPREADS.
One fine morning in May, Mr. Bryant was standing at his front gatewatching for his brother-in-law, Mr. Howell, to come down the street.
He held a newspaper in his hand, and with this, loosely rolled, he wasimpatiently tapping on the gate as Mr. Howell drew near. Evidentlysomething had happened to disturb him.
"See here, Aleck," he exclaimed, as soon as his brother-in-law waswithin the sound of his voice, "I can stand this sort of thing nolonger. I'm bound to go to Kansas. I've been thinking it over, and Ihave about made up my mind to go. Brubaker will take my store and thegood-will of the concern. Oscar is wild to go, and his mother isperfectly able to take care of the house while I am getting ready forher to come out. What d'ye say? Will you go too?"
"Well," said Mr. Howell, slowly, "you nearly take my breath away!What's happened to stir you up so?"
"Just listen to this!" cried the other, "just listen!" and, unfoldinghis newspaper, he read, with glowing cheeks and kindling eyes, anaccount of an attack made by some of the "pro-slavery men," as theywere named, on a party of free-State immigrants who had attempted tocross the river near Kansas City. His voice trembled with excitement,and when he had finished reading, he asked his companion what hethought of that.
Mr. Howell looked pensively down the street, now embowered with thefoliage of early summer, noted the peaceful aspect of the village, andthe tranquil picture which gardens, cottages, and sauntering groups ofschool-children presented, and then said slowly, "I never was much ofa hand at shooting, Charles, leastways, shooting at folks; and I don'tknow that I could take steady aim at a man, even if I knew he was aBorder Ruffian out gunning for me. But I'm with you, Charles. Charlieand Sandy can do a heap sight better in Kansas, after things getsettled, than they can here. This place is too old; there's too muchcompetition, and the boys will not have any show if they stay here.But what does Amanda say?"
Now, Amanda was Mr. Bryant's wife, Mr. Aleck Howell's sister. WhenAleck asked this question, the two men looked at each other for amoment, queerly and without speaking.
"Well, she'll hate to part with Oscar; he's the apple of her eye, asit were. But I guess she will listen to reason. When I read this piecein the paper to her this morning, at the breakfast-table, she was asmad as a wet hen. As for Oscar, he's so fired up about it that he isdown in the wood-shed chopping wood to blow off steam. Hear him?" AndMr. Bryant laughed quietly, notwithstanding his rising anger over thenews of the day.
At that moment Sandy came whooping around the corner, intent onovertaking a big yellow dog, his constant companion,--Bose byname,--who bounded along far in advance of the boy. "See here, Sandy,"said his uncle, "how would you like to go to Kansas with your father,Oscar, Charlie, and myself?"
"To Kansas? shooting buffaloes, deer, Indians, and all that? ToKansas? Oh, come, now, Uncle Charles, you don't mean it."
"But I do mean it, my laddie," said the elder man, affectionatelypatting the freckled cheek of the lad. "I do mean it, and if you canpersuade your father to go along and take you and Charlie with him,we'll make up a party--just we five--that will scare the BorderRuffians 'way into the middle of next year." Then, with a more seriousair, he added, "This is a fight for freedom, my boy, and every man andevery boy who believes in God and Liberty can find a chance to help.I'm sure _we_ can." This he said with a certain sparkle of his eyethat may have meant mischief to any Border Ruffian that might havebeen there to see and hear.
As for Sandy, he turned two or three hand-springs by way of relievinghis feelings; then, having once more assured himself that the two menhad serious thoughts of migrating to Kansas, he rushed off to thewood-shed to carry the wonderful news to Oscar. Dropping his axe, thelad listened with widened eyes to the story that Sandy had to tell.
"Do you know, Sandy," he said, with an air of great wisdom, "I thoughtthere was something in the wind. Oh, I never saw father so roused ashe was when he read that story in the Chicago _Press and Tribune_ thismorning. Why, I thought he'd just get up and howl when he had read itout to mother. Jimmini! Do you really suppose that he will go? Andtake us? And Uncle Aleck? Oh, wouldn't that be too everlastingly bullyfor anything?" Oscar, as you will see, was given to the use of slang,especially when under great excitement. The two boys rushed back tothe gate, where the brothers-in-law were still talking eagerly and inundertones.
"If your mother and Aunt Amanda will consent, I guess we will go,"said Mr. Bryant, with a smile on his face as he regarded the flushedcheeks and eager eyes of Sandy and Oscar. Sandy's father added: "AndI'll answer for your mother, my son. She and I have talked this thingover many a time, more on your account and Charlie's than for the sakeof 'bleeding Kansas,' however. I'm bound to say that. Every man is inhonor bound to do his duty by the country and by the good cause; butI have got to look after my boys first." And the father lovingly laidhis hand on Sandy's sturdy shoulder. "Do you think you could fight, ifthe worst comes to the worst, Sandy, boy?"
Of course the lad protested confidently that he could fight; certainlyhe could protect his rights and his father's rights, even with a gun,if that should be found necessary. But he admitted that, on the whole,he would rather shoot buffaloes and antelope, both of which species oflarge game he had already learned were tolerably plentiful in Kansas.
"Just think of it, Oscar, we might have some real Indian-fighting outthere, like that Father Dixon and the rest of the old settlers had inthe time of the Black Hawk war."
His father assured him, however, that there was no longer any dangerfrom the red man in Kansas. The wild Indians were now far out on thefrontier, beyond the region to which emigrants would probably go insearch of homestead lands for settlement. Sandy looked relieved atthis explanation. He was not anxious for fighting with anybody. Funwas more to his liking.
The two mothers, when they were informed of the decision of the malemembers of the family, made very little opposition to the emigrationscheme. In fact, Mrs. Howell had really felt for some time past thather boys would be better provided for in a new country. She had beenone of the "old settlers" of Dixon, having been brought out from theinterior of New York when she and her brother were small children. Shehad the same spirit of adventure that he had, and, although sheremembered very well the privations and the discomforts of those earlydays, it was more with amusement than sorrow that she recalled them tomind, now that they were among the traditions of long-past years. Thetwo young Howells were never weary of hearing their mother tell of thetime when she killed a wildcat with her father's rifle, or of herwalking fifteen miles and back to buy herself a bonnet-ribbon to wearto her first ball in the court-house. Now her silent influence made iteasier for the Kansas Exodus (as they already called their scheme) tobe accepted all around.
The determination of the two families to migrate made some stir in thetown. It was yet a small place, and everybody knew every other body'sbusiness. The Bryants and Howells were among the "old families," andtheir momentous step created a little ripple of excitement among theirfriends and acquaintances. The boys enjoyed the talk and the gossipthat arose around them, and already considered themselves heroes in asmall way. With envious eyes and eager faces, their comradessurrounded them, wherever they went, asking questions about theiroutfit, their plans, and their future movements. Every boy in Dixonlooked on the three prospective boy settlers as the most fortunate ofall their young playfellows.
"I wish my father would catch the 'Kansas fever,'" said Hiram Fender,excitedly. "Don't you suppose your father could give it to him,Charlie? Do you suppose your uncle would take me along if Dad wouldlet me go? Oh, wouldn't that be just gaudy, if I could go! Then therewould be four of us boys. Try it on him."
But the two families resolutely attended to their own business, askinghelp from nobody, and not even so much as hinting to anybody that itwould be a good thing for others to go with them to the Promised Land.The three boys were speedily in the midst of preparations for theirmigration. It was now well along in the middle of May
. If they were totake up land claims in Kansas and get in a crop, they had no time tospare. The delightful excitement of packing, of buying arms andammunition, and of winding up all the small concerns of their life inDixon made the days pass swiftly by. There were all the details oftents for camping-out, provisions for the march, and rough clothingand walking gear for the new life beyond to be looked after.
Some of the notions of the boys, in regard to what was needed and whatwas to be expected from the land beyond, were rather crude. Andperhaps their fathers were not in all cases so wise as they thoughtthemselves. The boys, however, cherished the idea that absolutelyeverything they should require in Kansas must be carried fromIllinois. "Why," said the practical Mr. Howell, "if we cannot buyploughs, cattle, and seed, cheaper in Missouri than we can here, wecan at least save the labor and cost of transportation. We don't wantto haul a year's provisions, either. We expect to raise something toeat, don't we?"
Charlie, to whom this remonstrance was addressed, replied, "Well, ofcourse we can raise some garden truck, and I suppose we can buy baconand flour cheaper in Missouri than here."
"Then there's the game," interrupted Oscar and Sandy, both in onebreath. "Governor Robinson's book says that the country is swarmingwith game," added Sandy, excitedly.
The boys had devoured a little book by Mr. Robinson, the free-StateGovernor of Kansas, in which the richness of the Promised Land wasglowingly set forth.
"Much time we shall have to shoot buffaloes and antelope when we arebreaking up the sod and planting corn," Mr. Howell answered with ashade of sarcasm in his voice.
"And we may have to fire at bigger game than either of those," addedMr. Bryant, grimly.
"Border Ruffians?" asked Sandy, with a feeble attempt at a grin. Hismother shuddered and hastily went out of the room. The Kansas schemeseemed no longer pleasant to her, when she read the dreadful storiesof violence and bloodshed with which some of the Western newspaperswere teeming. But it was settled that most of the tools needed forfarming could be bought better in Missouri than in Illinois; the longhaul would be saved, and the horses with which they were to startcould be exchanged for oxen to good advantage when they reached "theriver." They had already adopted the common phrase, "the river," forthe Missouri River, then generally used by people emigratingwestward.
"But perhaps the Missourians will not sell you anything when they knowthat you are free-State men," suggested Mrs. Bryant, timidly, for thiswas a family council.
"Oh, well," answered Mr. Howell, sturdily, "I'll risk that. I neversaw a man yet with anything to sell who wouldn't sell it when themoney was shaken in his face. The newspapers paint those border menpretty black, I know; but if they stop to ask a man's politics beforethey make a bargain with him, they must be queer cattle. They are morethan human or less than human, not Americans at all, if they dobusiness in that way." In the end they found that Mr. Howell wasentirely right.
All was settled at last, and that, too, in some haste, for the seasonwas rapidly advancing when planting must be attended to, if they wereto plant that year for the fall harvest. From the West they heardreports of hosts of people pouring into the new Territory, of landbeing in great demand, and of the best claims near the Missouri beingtaken by early emigrants. They must be in a hurry if they were to geta fair chance with the rest and a fair start on their farm,--a farmyet existing only in their imagination.
Their wagon, well stored with clothing and provisions, a few books,Oscar's violin, a medicine chest, powder, shot, and rifle-balls, andan assortment of odds and ends,--the wagon, so long a magicalrepository of hopes and the most delightful anticipations, was readyat last. It stood at the side gate of Mr. Bryant's home, with a "spiketeam" (two horses at the pole, and one horse for a leader) harnessed.It was a serious, almost solemn, moment. Now that the final partinghad come, the wrench with which the two families were to be broken upseemed harder than any of the members had expected. The two mothers,bravely keeping up smiling faces, went about the final touches ofpreparations for the lads' departure and the long journey of theirhusbands.
Mr. Howell mounted the wagon with Sandy by his side; Mr. Bryant tookhis seat with the other two boys in an open buggy, which they were todrive to "the river" and there trade for a part of their outfit. Fondand tearful kisses had been exchanged and farewells spoken. They droveoff into the West. The two women stood at the gate, gazing after themwith tear-dimmed eyes as long as they were in sight; and when thelittle train disappeared behind the first swale of the prairie, theyburst into tears and went into the house which was now left unto themdesolate.
It was a quiet party that drove over the prairie that bright andbeautiful morning. The two boys in the buggy spoke occasionally infar-off-sounding voices about indifferent things that attracted theirattention as they drove along. Mr. Howell held the reins, with acertain stern sense of duty on his dark and handsome face. Sandy satsilently by his side, the big tears coursing down his freckledcheeks.