CHAPTER I
NEWS FROM CHARLESTON
It would soon be Christmas and Harry Kenton, at his desk in thePendleton Academy, saw the snow falling heavily outside. The schoolstood on the skirt of the town, and the forest came down to the edge ofthe playing field. The great trees, oak and ash and elm, were clothedin white, and they stood out a vast and glittering tracery against thesomber sky.
The desk was of the old kind, intended for two, and Harry's comrade init was his cousin, Dick Mason, of his own years and size. They wouldgraduate in June, and both were large and powerful for their age.There was a strong family resemblance and yet a difference. Harry'sface was the more sensitive and at times the blood leaped likequicksilver in his veins. Dick's features indicated a quieter and morestubborn temper. They were equal favorites with teachers and pupils.
Dick's eyes followed Harry's, and he, too, looked at the falling snowand the white forest. Both were thinking of Christmas and the holidayseason so near at hand. It was a rich section of Kentucky, and theywere the sons of prosperous parents. The snow was fitting at such atime, and many joyous hours would be passed before they returned toschool.
The clouds darkened and the snow fell faster. A wind rose and drove itagainst the panes. The boys heard the blast roaring outside and thecomfort of the warm room was heightened by the contrast. Harry's eyesturned reluctantly back to his Tacitus and the customs and manners ofthe ancient Germans. The curriculum of the Pendleton Academy was simple,like most others at that time. After the primary grades it consistedchiefly of the classics and mathematics. Harry led in the classics andDick in the mathematics.
Bob Turner, the free colored man, who was janitor of the academy,brought in the morning mail, a dozen letters and three or fournewspapers, gave it to Dr. Russell and withdrew on silent feet.
The Doctor was principal of Pendleton Academy, and he always presidedover the room in which sat the larger boys, nearly fifty in number.His desk and chair were on a low dais and he sat facing the pupils.He was a large man, with a ruddy face, and thick hair as white as thesnow that was falling outside. He had been a teacher fifty years,and three generations in Pendleton owed to him most of the learning thatis obtained from books. He opened his letters one by one, and readthem slowly.
Harry moved far away into the German forest with old Tacitus. He wasproud of his Latin and he did not mean to lose his place as first in theclass. The other boys also were absorbed in their books. It was seldomthat all were studious at the same time, but this was one of the raremoments. There was no shuffling of feet, and fifty heads were bent overtheir desks.
It was a full half hour before Harry looked up from his Tacitus.His first glance was at the window. The snow was driving hard, and theforest had become a white blur. He looked next at the Doctor and he sawthat the ruddy face had turned white. The old man was gazing intentlyat an open letter in his hand. Two or three others had fallen to thefloor. He read the letter again, folded it carefully, and put it in hispocket. Then he broke the wrapper on one of the newspapers and rapidlyread its columns. The whiteness of his face deepened into pallor.
The slight tearing sound caused most of the boys to look up, and theynoticed the change in the principal's face. They had never seen himlook like that before. It was as if he had received some sudden anddeadly stroke. Yet he sat stiffly upright and there was no sound in theroom but the rustling of the newspaper as he turned its pages.
Harry became conscious of some strange and subtle influence that hadcrept into the very air, and his pulse began to leap. The others feltit, too. There was a tense feeling in the room and they became so stillthat the soft beat of the snow on the windows could be heard.
Not a single eye was turned to a book now. All were intent upon theDoctor, who still read the newspaper, his face without a trace of color,and his strong white hands trembling. He folded the paper presently,but still held it in his hand. As he looked up, he became conscious ofthe silence in the room, and of the concentrated gaze of fifty pairsof eyes bent upon him. A little color returned to his cheeks, and hishands ceased to tremble. He stood up, took the letter from his pocket,and opened it again.
Dr. Russell was a striking figure, belonging to a classic type foundat its best in the border states. A tall man, he held himself erect,despite his years, and the color continued to flow back into the face,which was shaped in a fine strong mold.
"Boys," he said, in a firm, full voice, although it showed emotion,"I have received news which I must announce to you. As I tell it,I beg that you will restrain yourselves, and make little comment here.Its character is such that you are not likely ever to hear anything ofmore importance."
No one spoke, but a thrill of excitement ran through the room. Harrybecame conscious that the strange and subtle influence had increased.The pulses in both temples were beating hard. He and Dick leanedforward, their elbows upon the desk, their lips parted a little inattention.
"You know," continued Dr. Russell in the full voice that trembledslightly, "of the troubles that have arisen between the states, Northand South, troubles that the best Americans, with our own great HenryClay at the head, have striven to avert. You know of the election ofLincoln, and how this beloved state of ours, seeking peace, voted forneither Lincoln nor Breckinridge, both of whom are its sons."
The trembling of his voice increased and he paused again. It wasobvious that he was stirred by deep emotion and it communicated itselfto the boys. Harry was conscious that the thrill, longer and strongerthan before, ran again through the room.
"I have just received a letter from an old friend in Charleston,"continued Dr. Russell in a shaking voice, "and he tells me that on thetwentieth, three days ago, the state of South Carolina seceded from theUnion. He also sends me copies of two of the Charleston newspapers ofthe day following. In both of these papers all despatches from theother states are put under the head, 'Foreign News.' With theAbolitionists of New England pouring abuse upon all who do not agreewith them, and the hot heads of South Carolina rushing into violence,God alone knows what will happen to this distracted country that allof us love so well."
He turned anew to his correspondence. But Harry saw that he wastrembling all over. An excited murmur arose. The boys began to talkabout the news, and the principal, his thoughts far away, did not callthem to order.
"I suppose since South Carolina has gone out that other southern stateswill do the same," said Harry to his cousin, "and that two republicswill stand where but one stood before."
"I don't know that the second result will follow the first," repliedDick Mason.
Harry glanced at him. He was conscious of a certain cold tenacity inDick's voice. He felt that a veil of antagonism had suddenly been drawnbetween these two who were the sons of sisters and who had been closecomrades all their lives. His heart swelled suddenly. As if byinspiration, he saw ahead long and terrible years. He said no more,but gazed again at the pages of his Tacitus, although the letters onlyswam before his eyes.
The great buzz subsided at last, although there was not one among theboys who was not still thinking of the secession of South Carolina.They had shared in the excitement of the previous year. A few hadstudied the causes, but most were swayed by propinquity and kinship,which with youth are more potent factors than logic.
The afternoon passed slowly. Dr. Russell, who always heard therecitations of the seniors in Latin, did not call the class. Harry wasso much absorbed in other thoughts that he did not notice the fact.Outside, the clouds still gathered and the soft beat of the snow on thewindow panes never ceased. The hour of dismissal came at last and theolder boys, putting on their overcoats, went silently out. Harry didnot dream that he had passed the doors of Pendleton Academy for thelast time, as a student.
While the seniors were quiet, there was no lack of noise from theyounger lads. Snowballs flew and the ends of red comforters, dancingin the wind, touched the white world with glowing bits of color. Harrylooked at the
m with a sort of pity. The magnified emotions of youth hadsuddenly made him feel very old and very responsible. When a snowballstruck him under the ear he paid no attention to it, a mark of greatabstraction in him.
He and his cousin walked gravely on, and left the shouting crowd behindthem. Three or four hundred yards further, they came upon the mainstreet of Pendleton, a town of fifteen hundred people, important inits section as a market, and as a financial and political center. Ithad two banks as solid as stone, and it was the proud boast of itsinhabitants that, excepting Louisville and Lexington, its bar was ofunequalled talent in the state. Other towns made the same claim,but no matter. Pendleton knew that they were wrong. Lawyers stoodvery high, especially when they were fluent speakers.
It was a singular fact that the two boys, usually full of talk, afterthe manner of youth, did not speak until they came to the parting oftheir ways. Then Harry, the more emotional of the two, and consciousthat the veil of antagonism was still between them, thrust out his handsuddenly and said:
"Whatever happens, Dick, you and I must not quarrel over it. Let'spledge our word here and now that, being of the same blood and havinggrown up together, we will always be friends."
The color in the cheeks of the other boy deepened. A slight moistureappeared in his eyes. He was, on the whole, more reserved than Harry,but he, too, was stirred. He took the outstretched hand and gave it astrong clasp.
"Always, Harry," he replied. "We don't think alike, maybe, about thethings that are coming, but you and I can't quarrel."
He released the hand quickly, because he hated any show of emotion,and hurried down a side street to his home. Harry walked on into theheart of the town, as he lived farther away on the other side. He soonhad plenty of evidence that the news of South Carolina's secession hadpreceded him here. There had been no such stir in Pendleton since theyheard of Buena Vista, where fifty of her sons fought and half of themfell.
Despite the snow, the streets about the central square were full ofpeople. Many of the men were reading newspapers. It was fifteen milesto the nearest railroad station, and the mail had come in at noon,bringing the first printed accounts of South Carolina's action. In thisborder state, which was a divided house from first to last, men stillguarded their speech. They had grown up together, and they were all ofblood kin, near or remote.
"What will it mean?" said Harry to old Judge Kendrick.
"War, perhaps, my son," replied the old man sadly. "The violence of NewEngland in speech and the violence of South Carolina in action may starta flood. But Kentucky must keep out of it. I shall raise my voiceagainst the fury of both factions, and thank God, our people have neverrefused to hear me."
He spoke in a somewhat rhetorical fashion, natural to time and place,but he was in great earnest. Harry went on, and entered the office ofthe Pendleton News, the little weekly newspaper which dispensed the news,mostly personal, within a radius of fifty miles. He knew that the Newswould appear on the following day, and he was anxious to learn whatMr. Gardner, the editor, a friend of his, would have to say in hiscolumns.
He walked up the dusty stairway and entered the room, where theeditor sat amid piles of newspapers. Mr. Gardner was a youngish man,high-colored and with longish hair. He was absorbed so deeply in a copyof the Louisville Journal that he did not hear Harry's step or noticehis coming until the boy stood beside him. Then he looked up and saiddryly:
"Too many sparks make a blaze at last. If people keep on quarrelingthere's bound to be a fight some time or other. I suppose you've heardthat South Carolina has seceded."
"Dr. Russell announced it at the school. Are you telling, Mr. Gardner,what the News will have to say about it?"
"I don't mind," replied the editor, who was fond of Harry, and who likedhis alert mind. "If it comes to a breach, I'm going with my people.It's hard to tell what's right or wrong, but my ancestors belonged tothe South and so do I."
"That's just the way I feel!" exclaimed Harry vehemently.
The editor smiled.
"But I don't intend to say so in the News tomorrow," he continued."I shall try to pour oil upon the waters, although I won't be able tohide my Southern leanings. The Colonel, your father, Harry, will notseek to conceal his."
"No," said Harry. "He will not. What was that?"
The sound of a shot came from the street. The two ran hurriedly downthe stairway. Three men were holding a fourth who struggled with themviolently. One had wrenched from his hand a pistol still smoking at themuzzle. About twenty feet away was another man standing between two whoheld him tightly, although he made no effort to release himself.
Harry looked at the two captives. They made a striking contrast.The one who fought was of powerful build, and dressed roughly. Hiswhole appearance indicated the primitive human being, and Harry knewimmediately that he was one of the mountaineers who came long distancesto trade or carouse in Pendleton.
The man who faced the mountaineer, standing quietly between those whoheld him, was young and slender, though tall. His longish black hairwas brushed carefully. The natural dead whiteness of his face wasaccentuated by his black mustache, which turned up at the ends likethat of a duelist. He was dressed in black broadcloth, the long coatbuttoned closely about his body, but revealing a full and ruffledshirt bosom as white as snow. His face expressed no emotion, but themountaineer cursed violently.
"I can read the story at once," said the editor, shrugging hisshoulders. "I know the mountaineer. He's Bill Skelly, a rough man,prone to reach for the trigger, especially when he's full of bad whiskeyas he is now, and the other, Arthur Travers, is no stranger to you.Skelly is for the abolition of slavery. All the mountaineers are.Maybe it's because they have no slaves themselves and hate the moreprosperous and more civilized lowlanders who do have them. Harry,my boy, as you grow older you'll find that reason and logic seldomcontrol men's lives."
"Skelly was excited over the news from South Carolina," said Harry,continuing the story, which he, too, had read, as an Indian reads atrail, "and he began to drink. He met Travers and cursed theslave-holders. Travers replied with a sneer, which the mountaineercould not understand, except that it hurt. Skelly snatched out hispistol and fired wildly. Travers drew his and would have fired,although not so wildly, but friends seized him. Meanwhile, othersoverpowered Skelly and Travers is not excited at all, although hewatches every movement of his enemy, while seeming to be indifferent."
"You read truly, Harry," said Gardner. "It was a fortunate thing forSkelly that he was overpowered. Somehow, those two men facing eachother seem, in a way, to typify conditions in this part of the countryat least."
Harry was now watching Travers, who always aroused his interest.A lawyer, twenty-seven or eight years of age, he had little practice,and seemed to wish little. He had a wonderful reputation for dexteritywith cards and the pistol. A native of Pendleton, he was the son ofparents from one of the Gulf States, and Harry could never quite feelthat he was one of their own Kentucky blood and breed.
"You can release me," said Travers quietly to the young men who stood oneither side of him holding his arms. "I think the time has come to huntbigger game than a fool there like Skelly. He is safe from me."
He spoke with a supercilious scorn which impressed Harry, but whichhe did not wholly admire. Travers seemed to him to have the quietdeadliness of the cobra. There was something about him that repelled.The men released him. He straightened his long black coat, smoothed thefull ruffles of his shirt and walked away, as if nothing had happened.
Skelly ceased to struggle. The aspect of the crowd, which was largelyhostile, sobered him. Steve Allison, the town constable, appeared and,putting his hand heavily upon the mountaineer's shoulder, said:
"You come with me, Skelly."
But old Judge Kendrick intervened.
"Let him go, Steve," he said. "Send him back to the mountains."
"But he tried to kill a man, Judge."
"I know, but extraor
dinary times demand extraordinary methods. A greatand troubled period has come into all our lives. Maybe we're about toface some terrible crisis. Isn't that so?"
"Yes," replied the crowd.
"Then we must not hurry it or make it worse by sudden action. If Skellyis punished, the mountaineers will say it is political. I appeal to you,Dr. Russell, to sustain me."
The white head of the principal showed above the crowd.
"Judge Kendrick is right," he said. "Skelly must be permitted to go.His action, in fact, was due to the strained conditions that have longprevailed among us, and was precipitated by the alarming message thathas come today. For the sake of peace, we must let him go."
"All right, then," said Allison, "but he goes without his pistol."
Skelly was put upon his mountain pony, and he rode willingly away amidthe snow and the coming dusk, carrying, despite his release, a bitterheart into the mountains, and a tale that would inflame the jealousywith which upland regarded lowland.
The crowd dispersed. Gardner returned to his office, and Harry wenthome. He lived in the best house in or about Pendleton and his fatherwas its wealthiest citizen. George Kenton, having inherited much landin Kentucky, and two or three plantations further south had added tohis property by good management. A strong supporter of slavery, actualcontact with the institution on a large scale in the Gulf States had notpleased him, and he had sold his property there, reinvesting the moneyin his native and, as he believed, more solid state. His title ofcolonel was real. A graduate of West Point, he had fought bravely withScott in all the battles in the Valley of Mexico, but now retired and awidower, he lived in Pendleton with Harry, his only child.
Harry approached the house slowly. He knew that his father was aman of strong temper and he wondered how he would take the news fromCharleston. All the associations of Colonel Kenton were with theextreme Southern wing, and his influence upon his son was powerful.
But the Pendleton home, standing just beyond the town, gave forthonly brightness and welcome. The house itself, large and low, builtmassively of red brick, stood on the crest of a gentle slope in twoacres of ground. The clipped cones of pine trees adorned the slopes,and made parallel rows along the brick walk, leading to the whiteportico that formed the entrance to the house. Light shone from ahalf dozen windows.
It seemed fine and glowing to Harry. His father loved his home, and sodid he. The twilight had now darkened into night and the snow stilldrove, but the house stood solid and square to wind and winter, and theflame from its windows made broad bands of red and gold across the snow.Harry went briskly up the walk and then stood for a few moments in theportico, shaking the snow off his overcoat and looking back at the town,which lay in a warm cluster in the hollow below. Many lights twinkledthere, and it occurred to Harry that they would twinkle later than usualthat night.
He opened the door, hung his hat and overcoat in the hall, and enteredthe large apartment which his father and he habitually used as a readingand sitting room. It was more than twenty feet square, with a loftyceiling. A home-made carpet, thick, closely woven, and rich in colorscovered the floor. Around the walls were cases containing books,mostly in rich bindings and nearly all English classics. American workwas scarcely represented at all. The books read most often by ColonelKenton were the novels of Walter Scott, whom he preferred greatly toDickens. Scott always wrote about gentlemen. A great fire of hickorylogs blazed on the wide hearth.
Colonel Kenton was alone in the room. He stood at the edge of thehearth, with his back to the fire and his hands crossed behind him.His tanned face was slightly pale, and Harry saw that he had beensubjected to great nervous excitement, which had not yet wholly abated.
The colonel was a tall man, broad of chest, but lean and muscular.He regarded his son attentively, and his eyes seemed to ask a question.
"Yes," said Harry, although his father had not spoken a word. "I'veheard of it, and I've already seen one of its results."
"What is that?" asked Colonel Kenton quickly.
"As I came through town Bill Skelly, a mountaineer, shot at ArthurTravers. It came out of hot words over the news from Charleston.Nobody was hurt, and they've sent Skelly on his pony toward hismountains."
Colonel Kenton's face clouded.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I fear that Travers will be much too free withstinging remarks. It's a time when men should control their tongues.Do you be careful with yours. You're a youth in years, but you're a manin size, and you should be a man in thought, too. You and I have beenclose together, and I have trusted you, even when you were a little boy."
"It's so, father," replied Harry, with affection and gratitude.
"And I'm going to trust you yet further. It may be that I shall giveyou a task requiring great skill and energy."
The colonel looked closely at his son, and he gave silent approval tothe tall, well-knit form, and the alert, eager face.
"We'll have supper presently," he said, "and then we will talk withvisitors. Some you know and some you don't. One of them, who has comefar, is already in the house."
Harry's eyes showed surprise, but he knew better than to ask questions.The colonel had carried his military training into private life.
"He is a distant relative of ours, very distant, but a relative still,"continued Colonel Kenton. "You will meet him at supper. Be ready in ahalf hour."
The dinner of city life was still called supper in the South, andHarry hastened to his room to prepare. His heart began to throb withexcitement. Now they were to have visitors at night and a mysteriousstranger was there. He felt dimly the advance of great events.
Harry Kenton was a normal and healthy boy, but the discussions, thedebates, and the passions sweeping over the Union throughout the yearhad sifted into Pendleton also. The news today had merely struck fireto tinder prepared already, and, infused with the spirit of youth,he felt much excitement but no depression. Making a careful toilethe descended to the drawing room a little before the regular time.Although he was early, his father was there before him, standing in hiscustomary attitude with his back to the hearth, and his hands claspedbehind him.
"Our guest will be down in a few minutes," said Colonel Kenton. "Hecomes from Charleston and his name is Raymond Louis Bertrand. I willexplain how he is related to us."
He gave a chain of cousins extending on either side from the Kentonfamily and the Bertrand family until they joined in the middle. It wasa slender tie of kinship, but it sufficed in the South. As he finished,Bertrand himself came in, and was introduced formally to his Kentuckycousin. Harry would have taken him for a Frenchman, and he was, in verytruth, largely of French blood. His black eyes and hair, his swarthycomplexion, gleaming white teeth and quick, volatile manner showed adescendant of France who had come from the ancient soil by way of Hayti,and the great negro rebellion to the coast of South Carolina. He seemedstrange and foreign to Harry, and yet he liked him.
"And this is my young cousin, the one who is likely to be so zealous forour cause," he said, smiling at Harry with flashing black eyes. "Youare a stalwart lad. They grow bigger and stronger here than on our warmCarolina coast."
"Raymond arrived only three hours ago," said Colonel Kenton inexplanation. "He came directly from Charleston, leaving only threehours after the resolution in favor of secession was adopted."
"And a rough journey it was," said Bertrand vivaciously. "I wasrattled and shaken by the trains, and I made some of the connections byhorseback over the wild hills. Then it was a long ride through the snowto your hospitable home here, my good cousin, Colonel Kenton. But I hadminute directions, and no one noticed the stranger who came so quietlyaround the town, and then entered your house."
Harry said nothing but watched him intently. Bertrand spoke with arapid lightness and grace and an abundance of gesture, to which he wasnot used in Kentucky. He ate plentifully, and, although his mannerswere delicate, Harry felt to an increasing degree his foreign aspect andspirit. He
did not wonder at it when he learned later that Bertrand,besides being chiefly of French blood, had also been educated in Paris.
"Was there much enthusiasm in South Carolina when the state seceded,Raymond?" asked Colonel Kenton.
"I saw the greatest joy and confidence everywhere," he replied, thecolor flaming through his olive face. "The whole state is ablaze.Charleston is the heart and soul of our new alliance. Rhett and Yanceyof Alabama, and the great orators make the souls of men leap. Ah, sir,if you could only have been in Charleston in the course of recentmonths! If you could have heard the speakers! If you could haveseen how the great and righteous Calhoun's influence lives after him!And then the writers! That able newspaper, the Mercury, has thundereddaily for our cause. Simms, the novelist, and Timrod and Hayne, thepoets have written for it. Let the cities of the North boast of theirsize and wealth, but they cannot match Charleston in culture and spiritand vivacity!"
Harry saw that Bertrand felt and believed every word he said, and hisenthusiasm was communicated to the colonel, whose face flushed, and toHarry, too, whose own heart was beating faster.
"It was a great deed!" exclaimed Colonel Kenton. "South Carolina hasalways dared to speak her mind, but here in Kentucky some of the coldNorth's blood flows in our veins and we pause to calculate and consider.We must hasten events. Now, Raymond, we will go into the library.Our friends will be here in a half hour. Harry, you are to stay withus. I told you that you are to be trusted."
They left the table, and went into the great room where the fire hadbeen built anew and was casting a ruddy welcome through the windows.The two men sat down before the blaze and each fell silent, engrossed inhis thoughts. Harry felt a pleased excitement. Here was a great andmysterious affair, but he was going to have admittance to the heartof it. He walked to the window, lifted the curtain and looked out.A slender erect figure was already coming up the walk, and he recognizedTravers.
Travers knocked at the door and was received cordially. Colonel Kentonintroduced Bertrand, saying:
"The messenger from the South."
Travers shook hands and nodded also to signify that he understood.Then came Culver, the state senator from the district, a man of middleyears, bulky, smooth shaven, and oratorical. He was followed soon byBracken, a tobacco farmer on a great scale, Judge Kendrick, Reid andWayne, both lawyers, and several others, all of wealth or of influencein that region. Besides Harry, there were ten in the room.
"I believe that we are all here now," said Colonel Kenton. "I keep myson with us because, for reasons that I will explain later, I shallnominate him for the task that is needed."
"We do not question your judgment, colonel," said Senator Culver."He is a strong and likely lad. But I suggest that we go at once tobusiness. Mr. Bertrand, you will inform us what further steps are to betaken by South Carolina and her neighboring states. South Carolina mayset an example, but if the others do not follow, she will merely be asacrifice."
Bertrand smiled. His smile always lighted up his olive face in awonderful way. It was a smile, too, of supreme confidence.
"Do not fear," he said. "Alabama, Mississippi, Florida and Louisianaare ready. We have word from them all. It is only a matter of a fewdays until every state in the lower south goes out, but we want also andwe need greatly those on the border, famous states like your Kentuckyand Virginia. Do you not see how you are threatened? With the triumphof the rail-splitter, Lincoln, the seat of power is transferred to theNorth. It is not alone a question of slavery. The balance of theUnion is destroyed. The South loses leadership. Her population is notincreasing rapidly, and hereafter she will merely hold the stirrup whilethe North sits in the saddle."
A murmur arose from the men. More than one clenched his hands, untilthe nails pressed into the flesh. Harry, still standing by the window,felt the influence of the South Carolinian's words more deeply perhapsthan any other. The North appeared to him cold, jealous, and vengeful.
"You are right about Kentucky and Virginia," said Senator Culver."The secession of two such strong states would strike terror in theNorth. It would influence the outside world, and we would be in a farbetter position for war, if it should come. Governor Magoffin will haveto call a special session of the legislature, and I think there willbe enough of us in both Senate and House to take Kentucky out."
Bertrand's dark face glowed.
"You must do it! You must do it!" he exclaimed. "And if you do ourcause is won!"
There was a thoughtful silence, broken at last by Colonel Kenton,who turned an inquiring eye upon Bertrand.
"I wish to ask you about the Knights of the Golden Circle," he said."I hear that they are making great headway in the Gulf States."
Raymond hesitated a moment. It seemed that he, too, felt for the firsttime a difference between himself and these men about him who were somuch less demonstrative than he. But he recovered his poise quickly.
"I speak to you frankly," he replied. "When our new confederation isformed, it is likely to expand. A hostile union will lie across ournorthern border, but to the south the way is open. There is our field.Spain grows weak and the great island of Cuba will fall from her grasp.Mexico is torn by one civil war after another. It is a grand country,and it would prosper mightily in strong hands. Beyond lie the unstablestates of Central America, also awaiting good rulers."
Colonel Kenton frowned and the lawyers looked doubtful.
"I can't say that I like your prospect," the colonel said. "It seems tome that your knights of the Golden Circle meditate a great slave empirewhich will eat its way even into South America. Slavery is not whollypopular here. Henry Clay long ago wished it to be abolished, and his isa mighty name among us. It would be best to say little in Kentucky ofthe Knights of the Golden Circle. Our climate is a little too cold forsuch a project."
Bertrand bit his lip. Swift and volatile, he showed disappointment, but,still swift and volatile, he recovered quickly.
"I have no doubt that you are right, Colonel Kenton," he said, in thetone of one who conforms gracefully, "and I shall be careful when I goto Frankfort with Senator Culver to say nothing about it."
But Harry, who watched him all the time, read tenacity and purpose inhis eyes. This man would not relinquish his great southern dream,a dream of vast dominion, and he had a powerful society behind him.
"What news, then, will you send to Charleston?" asked Bertrand atlength. "Will you tell her that Kentucky, the state of great names,will stand beside her?"
"Such a message shall be carried to her," replied Colonel Kenton,speaking for them all, "and I propose that my son Harry be themessenger. These are troubled times, gentlemen, and full of peril.We dare not trust to the mails, and a lad, carrying letters, wouldarouse the least suspicion. He is strong and resourceful. I, hisfather, should know best and I am willing to devote him to the cause."
Harry started when he heard the words of his father, and his heart gavea great leap of mingled surprise and joy. Such a journey, such anenterprise, made an instant appeal to his impulsive and daring spirit.But he did not speak, waiting upon the words of his elders. All of themlooked at him, and it seemed to Harry that they were measuring him,both body and mind.
"I have known your boy since his birth," said Senator Culver, "and heis all that you say. There is none stronger and better. The choice isgood."
"Good! Aye, good indeed!" said the impetuous Bertrand. "How they willwelcome him in Charleston!"
"Then, gentlemen," said Colonel Kenton, very soberly, "you are allagreed that my son shall carry to South Carolina the message thatKentucky will follow her out of the Union?"
"We are," they said, all together.
"I shall be glad and proud to go," said Harry, speaking for the firsttime.
"I knew it without asking you," said Colonel Kenton. "I suggest to you,friends, that he start before dawn, and that he go to Winton insteadof the nearest station. We wish to avoid observation and suspicion.The fewer questions he has
to answer, the better it will be for all ofus."
They agreed with him again, and, in order that he might be fresh andstrong for his journey, Harry was sent to his bedroom. Everythingwould be made ready for him, and Colonel Kenton would call him at theappointed hour. As he withdrew he bade them in turn good night, andthey returned his courtesy gravely.
It was one thing to go to his room, but it was another to sleep.He undressed and sat on the edge of the bed. Only when he was alone didhe realize the tremendous change that had come into his life. Nor intohis life alone, but into the lives of all he knew, and of millions more.
It had ceased snowing and the wind was still. The earth was clothedin deep and quiet white, and the pines stood up, rows of white cones,silvered by the moonlight. Nothing moved out there. No sound came.He felt awed by the world of night, and the mysterious future which mustbe full of strange and great events.
He lay down between the covers and, although sleep was long in coming,it came at last and it was without dreams.
The Guns of Bull Run: A Story of the Civil War's Eve Page 2