Part 23 (1/2)
Susannah did not know the Danite's name; it never occurred to her to ask him any question about himself.
At dawn they started again upon their tramp. The man knew the country, and when the sun was up he brought Susannah out of the forest to a settler's farm. She was faint now for want of food, walking again, as she had walked last night, with vacant eyes and dull mechanical tread.
The Danite made her sit down upon a stone near the house, and brought a woman to her who carried bread and milk. Susannah ate and drank without speaking.
”My! but she's tired,” said the farmer's wife. ”It's a cruel shame to make her walk so far; you're not a good husband to her, I'm thinking.”
Having satisfied her need, Susannah turned away dully without a word.
The settler's wife offered the remainder of the bread and milk to the Danite, who regarded it with famished eyes.
”Where's your husband?” he asked.
”We've enough men about the place.”
”Where is your husband?”
”He's away with the militia under Lucas.”
”Then I'll not touch his food,” said the Danite. With an oath he flung the cup and plate upon the ground. ”Do you see that woman there?” He pointed to Susannah. ”I took the food for her, for she had died without it. Yesterday devils like your husband shot her child in her arms and her husband before her eyes, and to Almighty G.o.d I pray that when I've got her to some safe place I may have strength yet to shoot your husband and your children, shoot them down like dogs, and laugh at you because you don't like it.” The restrained pa.s.sion of all the long preceding hours broke out. His face was ashen, his eyes burning; there was foam about his lips as, with thick utterance, he hurled the words at her.
The woman stepped back in dismay, but she, too, was enraged now, and courage was the habit of the free life she led. ”You are a b.l.o.o.d.y Mormon,” she cried, ”and if I'd known it I'd have let your woman die before I'd have fed her.” She walked backwards, her voice rising higher with pa.s.sion. Unable to think connectedly, she shrieked the phrases she had in mind. ”Coming here to spread idolatry in a Christian country!
Teaching superst.i.tion in a free Christian land!” She was still shrieking some jargon about the United States being founded on the Word of G.o.d, and the divine right to exterminate all Mormons, when he, walking fast, joined Susannah.
They had not gone much further before a large dog which the settler's wife had evidently let loose, came after them with fierce intent. The Danite turned, and as the dog sprang, slew it with one stab of his knife, and, leaving it bleeding upon the road, hurried Susannah into the forest.
It was a tradition upon that farm for years afterwards that these two Mormons, after receiving charity, had made an open display of that wanton wickedness which was habitual to them.
Susannah and the Danite travelled on for many hours. The way was not easy. Sometimes where the trees were thin their legs were tangled knee-deep in a plant covered with minute white feathery blossoms, looking like white swan's-down shot through with green light, that carpeted miles of the ground; sometimes the trees had fallen so thickly that they had to clamber from log to log rather than walk; sometimes their way was a bog, and they were in danger of sinking deeper than was safe.
Susannah asked no questions. She had heard and understood all the words that had pa.s.sed in the incident of the morning. She felt cowed now, afraid to think what might come next; it was enough that the Danite had evidently some point in view.
About four in the afternoon they left the forest and came to another and much larger house. The Danite advanced here with more confidence and spoke with some men who gathered at their approach. Afterwards three men, a father and sons, came and one after the other shook hands respectfully with Susannah. Within the house she found a motherly woman, the wife of the elder son. When Susannah's misfortunes were related to her in undertones she cast her ap.r.o.n over her head and groaned as with pain.
Susannah thought that the concern of this household must arise from fear on their own account. ”Are you Latter-Day Saints?” she asked mechanically.
The eldest man, with the air of a patriarch, replied, ”No, madam, we are not Saints; the fact is we don't hold by religion of one sort or another; we just believe in being kind to our neighbours and living, good lives; so whatsoever your belief may be it is no affair of ours, and you shall rest here for the sake of our common humanity. We'll look after you, madam.” He made a bow that was a queer mixture of uncouthness in keeping with his surroundings and a recollection of some more formal society.
The woman of the house, taking her ap.r.o.n from her head, suddenly bethought her of the best things that she had to offer. Gently forcing Susannah into an elbow chair, she ran, and lifting an infant a few weeks old from its cradle, put it in Susannah's arms.
The next night the young Danite went away.
CHAPTER XIII.
Only the outline of pa.s.sing events was reported to Susannah in her haven of peace. The elder man took her into his courtly care, and made a point of explaining to her what he thought she needed to know. The newspapers were sedulously kept from her, and so reticent were the other members of the household on the subject of their contents that her heart constantly sickened at the thought of what she was not allowed to hear.
”You see, madam,” the old man explained, ”it was Major-General Atchison that called out the militia in first defence of your people against Gilliam's mob. Gilliam had about three hundred men, and they started in the north of the State. Well, Parks and Doniphan, commanding the militia called out by Atchison, seem to have set about fighting the mob sincerely enough.” The old man pushed back his spectacles and rubbed his hair. ”Then you see, madam, that didn't please Governor Boggs. Here was the militia of his State shooting down his own good, honest Christian voters who keep him in office, that's Gilliam's men, and all the mob; so Boggs gets a lot of his men in all parts of the country to write him letters saying what dreadful crimes the Mormons are committing. These letters will no doubt pa.s.s into history as a genuine account of your people's doings. Well! well! I wouldn't shock your prejudices, but I'd like just to point out by the way that it's all done in the name of religion. There's Boggs has got an old mother who spends a lot of her time praying that the purity of the American religion may not be corrupted by the awful doctrines of Joe Smith.”
The old man shook his head and rubbed his thin gray curly hair again with a smile of constrained patience. ”You see, although I do not wish to grieve you by saying it, if we could only get rid of religion there would be a lot of brotherly kindness in the world that so far has never had a chance to say 'peep' and peck its sh.e.l.l. Well, but here's Boggs reading his letters, and he turns pale with horror at the thought of the corruption that has come among his good and pious people, so he writes off to the commanders of the militia that they are to stop fighting the mob, to fight against the Mormons, and only against the Mormons. So then Atchison resigns. He points out, fairly enough, that there hasn't been a single conviction in any lawful court against the Mormons for the crimes they are accused of. But what of that if Boggs is Governor? So they have taken away the arms from the Mormon company of militia, and the other day they went up to Far West with three or four thousand men, and they got Smith and his brother Hyrum and three of the elders to come out to them, and they court-martialled them and ordered them all to be shot the next day.