Part 5 (1/2)
”It runs, I reckon, seventy-five bushel to the acre, and there are two hundred acres.” After a lengthened pause he continued: ”That makes nigh on three thousand dollars. I must hev spent two hundred dollars this year in hired labour on that ground, and the half ain't cut yet. Thar's a pile of money and work on that quarter-section.”
A few minutes more pa.s.sed in silence. Bancroft did not know what to say, for the calm seriousness of the Elder repelled sympathy. As he looked about him there showed on the rise across the creek a knot of United States cavalry, the young lieutenant riding in front with a civilian, probably the surveyor, by his side. Bancroft turned and found that the Elder had disappeared in the corn. He followed quickly, but as he swung himself on to the fence the Elder came from behind a stook with a burnished shot-gun in his right hand, and said decisively:
”Don't come in hyar. 'Tain't your corn and you've no cause to mix yourself in this fuss.”
Bancroft obeyed involuntarily. The next moment he began to resent the authority conveyed in the prohibition; he ought to have protested, to have insisted--'but now it was too late. As the soldiers rode up the lieutenant dismounted and threw his reins to a trooper. He stepped towards the fence, and touching his cap carelessly, remarked:
”Well, Mr. Conklin, here we are.” The earnestness of the Elder appeared to have its effect, too, upon him, for he went on more respectfully: ”I regret that I've orders to pull down your fences and destroy the crop.
But there's nothing else to be done.”
”Yes,” said the Elder gravely, ”I guess you know your orders. But you mustn't pull down my fence,” and as he spoke he drew his shot-gun in front of him, and rested his hands upon the muzzle, ”nor destroy this crop.” And the long upper lip came down over the lower, giving an expression of obstinate resolve to the hard, tanned face.
”You don't seem to understand,” replied the lieutenant a little impatiently; ”this land belongs to the Indians; it has been secured to them by the United States Government, and you've no business either to fence it in or plant it.”
”That's all right,” answered Conklin, in the same steady, quiet, reasonable tone. ”That may all be jes' so, but them Indians warn't usin'
the land; they did no good with it. I broke this prairie ten years ago, and it took eight hosses to do it, and I've sowed it ever sence till the crops hev grown good, and now you come and tell me you're goin' to tromple down the corn and pull up the fences. No sir, you ain't--that ain't right.”
”Right or wrong,” the officer retorted, ”I have to carry out my orders, not reason about them. Here, sergeant, let three man hold the horses and get to work on this fence.”
As the sergeant advanced and put his hand on the top layer of the heavy snake-fence, the Elder levelled his shot-gun and said:
”Ef you pull down that bar I'll shoot.”
The sergeant took his hand from the bar quickly, and turned to his commander as if awaiting further instructions.
”Mr. Conklin,” exclaimed the lieutenant, moving forward, ”this is pure foolishness; we're twelve to one, and we're only soldiers and have to obey orders. I'm sorry, but I must do my duty.”
”That's so,” said the Elder, lowering his gun deliberately. ”That's so, I guess. You hev your duty--p'r'aps I hev mine. 'Tain't my business to teach you yours.”
For a moment the lieutenant seemed to be undecided; then he spoke:
”Half-a-dozen of you advance and cover him with your rifles. Now, Mr.
Conklin, if you resist you must take the consequences. Rebellion against the United States Government don't generally turn out well--for the rebel. Sergeant, down with the bar.”
The Elder stood as if he had not heard what had been said to him, but when the sergeant laid hold of the bar, the shot-gun went up again to the old man's shoulder, and he said:
”Ef you throw down that bar I'll shoot _you_.” Again the sergeant paused, and looked at his officer.
At this juncture Bancroft could not help interfering. The Elder's att.i.tude had excited in him more than mere admiration; wonder, reverence thrilled him, and his blood boiled at the thought that the old man might possibly be shot down. He stepped forward and said:
”Sir, you must not order your men to fire. You will raise the whole country against you if you do. This is surely a law case, and not to be decided by violence. Such a decision is not to be taken without reflection and distinct instructions.”
”Those instructions I have,” replied the lieutenant, ”and I've got to follow them out--more's the pity,” he added between his teeth, while turning to his troopers to give the decisive command. At this moment down from the bluff and over the wooden bridge came clattering a crowd of armed farmers, the younger ones whirling their rifles or revolvers as they rode. Foremost among them were Morris and Seth Stevens, and between these two young Jake Conklin on Jack. As they reached the corner of the fence the crowd pulled up and Morris cried out:
”Elder, we're on time, I reckon.” Addressing the lieutenant he added violently: ”We don't pay United States soldiers to pull down our fences and destroy our crops. That's got to stop right here, and right now!”
”My orders are imperative,” the officer declared, ”and if you resist you must take the consequences.” But while he spoke the hopelessness of his position became clear to him, for reinforcements of farmers were still pouring over the bridge, and already the soldiers were outnumbered two to one. Just as Seth Stevens began with ”d.a.m.n the consequences,” the Elder interrupted him:
”Young man,” he said to the lieutenant, ”you'd better go back to Wichita. I guess General Custer didn't send you to fight the hull towns.h.i.+p.” Turning to Stevens, he added, ”Thar ain't no need fer any cussin'.” Amid complete silence he unc.o.c.ked his shot-gun, climbed over the fence, and went on in the same voice: