by Thomas Dixon
VII
LIFE
On his graduation, the Second Lieutenant of Infantry, from the State ofMississippi, barely twenty years old, reported for duty to theJefferson Barracks at St. Louis.
He was ordered to the frontier to extend the boundaries of the growingRepublic--now accompanied by his faithful body servant, James Pemberton.
The Fort, situated on the Wisconsin River, was the northern limit of theIllinois tribe of Indians, and the starting point of all raids againstthe Iroquois who still held the rich lands around the village ofChicago.
The Boy Lieutenant was the first lumberman to put axe into the virginforests of Wisconsin. He was sent into the wilderness with a detachmentfor cutting timber to enlarge the Fort.
Under the direction of two voyageurs he embarked in a little open boatand began the perilous journey.
The first day out his courage and presence of mind were put to quicktest.
The Indians suddenly appeared on the shore and demanded a trade fortobacco. The little party rowed to the bank and began to parley. Aguide's keen eyes saw through their smooth palaver the hostile purposeof a bloody surprise and warned the commander. The order to push intothe river and pull for their lives was instantly given.
With savage yells the Indians sprang into their canoes and gave chase.
It was ten to one and they were sure of their prey. The chance of escapefrom such strong, swift rowers in light bark canoes was slight. The lowfierce cries of victory and the joyous shout of coming torture rang overthe waters.
The Indians gained rapidly.
The young Lieutenant's eye measured the distance between them and sawthe race was hopeless. With quick command he ordered a huge blanketstretched in the bow for a sail. The wind was blowing a furious galeand might swamp their tiny craft. It was drowning or death by torture.The commander's choice was instantaneous.
The frail boat plunged suddenly forward, swayed and surged from side toside through the angry, swirling waters, settled at last, and drewsteadily away from the maddened savages.
With a curious smile, the boyish commander stood in the stern andwatched the black swarm of yelling devils fade in the distance.
He was thinking of his old professor at West Point. His insult had beenthe one thing in life to which he owed most. He could see that clearlynow. His heart went out in a wave of gratitude to his enemy. Our enemiesare always our best friends when we have eyes to see.
The winter following he was ordered down to Winnebago.
The village of Chicago was the nearest center of civilization. The onlyway of reaching it was by wagon, and the journey consumed three months.
There was much gambling in the long still nights, and some drinking. Inlieu of the excitement of the gaming table, he took his fun in breakingand riding wild horses, and hairbreadth escapes were the order of hisdaily exercise. It was gambling, perhaps, but it developed the musclesof mind and body.
His success with horses was remarkable. No animal that man has broken tohis use is keener to recognize a master and flout a coward than thehorse. No coward has ever been able to do anything with a spiritedhorse.
He was wrestling one day with a particularly vicious specimen, to theterror and anguish of Jim Pemberton.
"For de Lawd's sake, Marse Jeff, let dat debbil go!"
"No, James, not yet--"
"He ain't no count, no how--"
"All the more reason why I should be his master, not he be mine."
The horse was possessed of seven devils. He jumped and plunged andbucked, wheeled and reared and walked on his hind legs in mad effort tothrow his cool rider. The moment he reared, the Lieutenant dropped hisfeet from the stirrups and leaned close to the brute's trembling, angryhead. At last in one supreme effort the beast threw himself straightinto the air and fell backwards, with the savage purpose of crushing histormentor beneath his body.
With a quiet laugh, the young officer slipped from the saddle andallowed him to thump himself a crashing blow. As the horse sprang to hisfeet to run, the Lieutenant leaped lightly into the saddle and the fightwas over.
"Well, for de Lawd, did ye ebber see de beat er dat!" Jim Pembertoncried with laughing admiration.
Scarcely a week passed without its dangerous excursions against thePawnees, Comanches and other hostile tribes of Indians. The friendlytribes, too, were everlastingly changing to hostiles in a night. Deathrode in the saddle with every man who left a fortified post in theseearly days of our national life.
The Lieutenant was ordered on a peculiarly long and daring raid intohostile territory, and twice barely escaped a massacre. Their errandaccomplished, and leisurely returning to the Fort, they suddenly met alarge party of Indians.
The Lieutenant shot a swift glance at their leader and saluted him withfriendly uplifted hand:
"Can you tell us the way to the Fort, Chief?"
The tall brave placed himself squarely in the path and pointed in thewrong direction.
Instantly the Lieutenant spurred his horse squarely on the savage,grasped him by the hair, dragged him a hundred yards and flung him intothe bushes. The assault was so sudden, so unexpected, so daring, thewhole band was completely cowed, and the soldiers rode by withoutattack.
Nor was the Indian the only enemy to test the youngster's mettle. Thepioneer soldiers of the rank and file in these turbulent days had mindsof their own which they sometimes dared to use.
The Lieutenant had no beard. His smooth, handsome face, clear blue eyes,fresh color and gay laughter, gave the impression of a boy of nineteen,when by the calendar he could boast of twenty-one.
A big strapping, bearded soldier, employed in building the Fort, hadproven himself the terror of his fellow workmen. He was a man ofenormous strength and gave full rein to an ugly, quarrelsomedisposition.
His eyes rested with decided disapproval on the graceful young master ofhorses.
"I'll whip that baby-faced Lieutenant," he coolly announced to hissatellites, "if ever he opens his jaw to me--watch me if I don't. Whatdoes he know about work?"
The men reported the threat to the Lieutenant. The next day without amoment's hesitation, in quiet tones, he gave his first order to thegiant:
"Put that piece of dressed scantling beside the window--"
The man deliberately lifted a rough board and placed it.
"The rough board won't do," said the even voice. "It must he a dressedscantling."
The soldier threw him an insolent laugh, and stooped to take up a boardexactly like the one he had laid down.
The baby-faced Lieutenant suddenly seized a club, knocked him down, andbeat him until he yelled for quarter.
The soldiers had watched the clash at first with grins and winks andnudges, betting on their giant. His strength was invincible. When theunexpected happened, and they saw the slender, plucky youngster standingover the form of the fallen brave, they raised a lusty shout for him.
When the giant scrambled to his feet, the victor said with a smile:
"This has been a fight, man to man, and I'm satisfied. I'll not reportit officially."
The big one grinned sheepishly and respectfully offered his hand:
"You're all right, Lieutenant. I made a mistake. I beg your pardon.You're the kind of a commander I've always liked."
Again the soldiers gave a shout. No man under him ever again presumed onhis beardless face. He had only to make his orders known to have theminstantly obeyed.
Jim Pemberton had watched the little drama of officer and man with anugly light gleaming in his eyes. The young master had not seen him. Thatnight in his quarters Jim quietly said:
"I'd a killed him ef he'd a laid his big claws on you, Marse Jeff."
"Would you, James?"
"Dat I would, sah."
Nothing more was said. But a new bond was sealed between master and man.
While at Fort Crawford, the Lieutenant had been ordered up the YellowRiver to build a saw mill. He had handled the neighboring Indians withsuch friendly skill and wo
n their good will so completely, he wasadopted by their chief as a brother of the tribe. An old Indian womanbent with age traveled a hundred miles to the Fort to warn the "LittleChief" of a coming attack of hostile bands. Her warning was unheeded bythe new commander and a massacre followed.
The success of this attack raised the war spirit of the entire frontierand gave the soldiers a winter of exceptional danger and hardship. Thecountry in every direction swarmed with red warriors on the warpath. Theweather was intensely cold, and his Southern blood suffered agoniesunknown to his companions. Often wet to the skin and compelled to remainin the saddle, the exposure at last brought on pneumonia. For months helay in his bed, directing, as best he could, the work of his men.
James Pemberton lifted his weak, emaciated form in his arms as if hewere a child. The black man carried his money, his sword and pistols. Atany moment, day or night, he could have stepped from the door into thewilderness and been free. He was free. He loved the man he served. Withtireless patience and tenderness, he nursed him back from the shadows ofdeath into life again.
On recovering from this illness, the Lieutenant faced a new commander atthe head of his regiment--a man destined to set in motion the greatestevent of his life.
Colonel Zachary Taylor had been promoted to the command of the FirstInfantry on the death of Colonel Morgan. Already he had earned the titlethat would become the slogan of his followers in the campaign which madehim President. "Old Rough and Ready" at this time was in the prime ofhis vigorous manhood.
Colonel Taylor sent the Lieutenant on an ugly, important mission.
Four hundred pioneers had taken possession of the lead mines at Dubuqueagainst the protest of the Indians whose rights had been ignored. TheLieutenant and fifty men were commissioned to eject the miners. To aman, they were heavily armed. They believed they were being cheated oftheir rights of discovery by the red tape of governmental interference.They had sworn to resist any effort to drive them out of these mines.Most of them were men of the higher types of Western adventurer. TheLieutenant liked these hardy sons of his own race, and determined not touse force against them if it could he avoided.
He crossed the river to announce his official instructions, and was metby a squad of daring, resolute fellows, armed and ready for a fight.
Their leader, a tall, red-headed, serious-looking man, opened theconference with scant ceremony. Looking the youthful officer squarely inthe eye, he slowly drawled:
"Young man, we have defied the gov'ment once befo' when they sent theirboys up here to steal our mines. Now, ef yer know when yer well off,you'll let honest white men alone and quit sidin' with Injuns--"
There was no mistaking his accent. He meant war.
The Lieutenant's answer came in quick, even, tones:
"The United States Government has ordered your removal, gentlemen. Mybusiness as a soldier is to obey. I shall be sorry to use force. ButI'll do it, if it's necessary. I suggest a private interview with yourleader--" he nodded to the red-headed man.
"Sure!"
"Talk it over!"
"All right."
The men from all sides gave their approval. The leader hesitated amoment, and measured the tall, straight young officer. He didn't likethis wrestle at close quarters with those penetrating eyes and thetrained mind behind them. But with a toss of his red locks he muttered:
"All right, fire away--you can talk your head off, for all the goodit'll do ye."
They walked off together a few yards and sat down.
With the friendliest smile the Lieutenant extended his hand:
"Before we begin our chat, let's shake hands?"
"Certain--shore--"
The brawny hand clasped his.
"I want you to know," the young officer continued earnestly, "my realfeelings toward you and your men. I've been out here four years with youfellows, pushing the flag into the wilderness, and the more I see of youthe better I like you. I know real men when I see them. You're strong,generous, brave, and you do things. You're building a great republic onthis frontier of the world. I've known your hospitality. You've hadlittle education in the schools, but you're trained for this big work inthe only school that counts out here--the School of Danger and Struggleand Experience--"
The brawny hand was lifted in a helpless sort of protest:
"Look a here, Boy, you're goin' ter bamboozle me, I kin jist feel it inmy bones--"
"On the other hand," the Lieutenant continued eagerly, "I assure you Iam going to treat you and your friends with the profoundest respect.It's due you. Let's reason this thing out. You've taken up these minesunder the old right of first discovery--"
"Yes, and they're ours, too,"--the lean jaws came together with a snap.
"So I say. But it will take a little time and a little patience toestablish your claims. The Indian, you know, holds the first rights tothis land--"
"T'ell with Injuns!"
"Even so, isn't it better to first settle their claims and avoid war?"
"Mebbe so."
"And you know we can't settle with the Indians while you hold by forcethe mines they claim as the owners of the soil--"
The leader scratched his head and rose with sudden resolution:
"Come on, and tell this to the boys."
The leader escorted the Lieutenant to the crowd, and commanded them tohear him. His speech was interrupted at first by angry exclamations, butat its close there was respectful silence. The fight was won without ablow.
The new Colonel was much pleased at the successful ending of thedangerous job. He had received the orders to eject these miners with awry face. That the work had been done without bloodshed had lifted aload from his mind.
The Lieutenant was honored on the night of his return by an invitationto dine with Colonel Taylor's family. They had been settled in thecrowded quarters of the Fort during his absence--the wife, threedaughters and a little son.
The Lieutenant's curiosity was but mildly roused at the thought ofmeeting the girls. In the lofty ways of youth, he had put marriage outof his mind. A soldier should not marry. He had given his whole soul tohis country, its flag and its service. He would be agreeable to theladies, of course, in deference to his commander and the honor he wasreceiving at his hands.
The dinner was a success. The mother was charming and gracious in herwelcome. Something in her ways recalled his own mother.
She extended her hand with a genial smile, and took his breath with herfirst remark:
"I've quite fallen in love with you, sir, because of a story I heard ofyour West Point career--"
"Not in pity for my fall over the cliff, I hope," he answered gravely.
The mother's voice dropped to a whisper:
"No,--your friend Albert Sydney Johnston told me that you saved a largepart of your allowance and sent it home to your mother--"
The young officer's lips trembled, and he looked away for a moment:
"But she sent it back to me, madam."
"Yes, until you wrote that she hurt you by not keeping it--"
To relieve his evident embarrassment, the mother introduced him in rapidsuccession to her daughters, the eldest Anne, the second Sarah Knox, theyoungest Elizabeth. Richard, the handsome little boy, had introducedhimself. He had liked the Lieutenant from the first.
He had been so surprised by the mother's possession of one of thesweetest secrets of his schoolboy life, and had blushed so furiouslyover it, he had scarcely noticed the girls, merely bowing in hisconfusion.
It was not until they were seated at the table and the dinner had fairlybegun, that he became conscious of the charm of the second daughter, whosat directly opposite.
Her beauty was not dazzling, but in fifteen minutes she had completelyabsorbed his attention. It was impossible, of course, not to look ather. She sat squarely before him. There was no embarrassment in thefrank, honest curiosity with which she returned his gaze.
The thing that first impressed him was the frankness of a winsomepersonality. He listened w
ith keen attention to her voice. There was nosimper, no affectation, no posing. She was just herself. He foundhimself analyzing her character. Refined--yes. Intelligent--beyond adoubt. She talked with her father in a quiet, authoritative way whichleft no doubt on that score. Graceful, tender, sincere, too--her tonesto her impulsive brother and her younger sister proved that. And a willof her own she had. The firmly set, full lips were eloquent ofcharacter. He liked that above all things in a woman. He couldn't standa simpering doll.
"Sing for us, Sarah!" her brother said impulsively, as they rose fromthe table.
"Certainly, Dick, if you wish it."
There was no holding back for urging. No mock modesty. No foolishness inher answer. It was straight, affectionate, responsive, open hearted,generous--just like his own sweet little sister Polly when he had askedof her a favor.
And then, he blushed to find himself staring at her in a sort of dreamyreverie. He hoped her music would not spoil the impression herpersonality had made. This had happened once in his life. He could nevertalk to the girl again, after he had heard her sing. The memory of itwas a nightmare.
He watched her tune the guitar with a sense of silly dread. The tuningfinished, she turned to her brother and asked with a smile:
"And what shall I sing, Sir Richard?"
"The one I love best--'Fairy Bells.'"
When the first line with its sweet accompaniment floated out from theporch on the balmy air of the June evening, the Lieutenant's fears hadvanished. Never had he heard a song whose trembling melody so found hisinmost soul. It set the Fairy Bells ringing in the deep woods of hisfar-away Mississippi home. He could see the fairy ringing them--herbeautiful hair streaming in the moonlight, a smile on her lips, the joyand beauty of eternal youth in every movement of her exquisite form.
When the last note had died softly away, he leaned close and before heknew what he was doing, whispered:
"Glorious, Miss Sarah!"
"You like it very much?" she asked.
"It's divine."
"My favorite, too."
All night the "Fairy Bells" rang in his heart. For the first time inlife, he failed to sleep. He listened entranced until dawn.