Silas Strong 21

Silas Strong 21

"Not me," said the occupant of the nail-keg. "Too many houses an' folks

an' too much noise. Couldn't never stan' it."

 

"Village is a cur'ous place," said another, who had never been sober

when he saw it. "Steeples an' buildin's an' folks reel 'round in pairs.

Seems so the sidewalk flowed like a river, an' nothin' stan's still long

'nough so ye can see how 't looks."

 

The speaker was interrupted by the proprietor of the Pitkin general

store, who came downstairs and flung himself on the top of the counter.

 

"Goin't' the Fourth?" said he of the cracker-barrel.

 

"Might as well--got t' hev a tooth drawed."

 

"I've got one that's been growlin' purty spiteful," said the

nail-kegger. "Dunno but I might as well go an' hev it tore out."

 

"I got t' be snaked, too," said the cracker-barrel man.

 

"Reg'lar tooth-drawin' down thar to-morrer," said a voice from the

counter.

 

"Beats all how the teeth git t' rairin' up ev'ry circus an' Fourth o'

July," said the nail-kegger. The laughter which now ensued seemed, as

it were, to shake everybody off his perch. The counter and the

cracker-barrel expressed themselves in a creak of relief, and all went

abovestairs save the Emperor. He cut a few boughs for a pillow, spread

his blanket under the pine-trees, flung an end of it over his great

body, and "let go," as he was wont to say. At any time of day or night

he had only to lie down and "let go," and enjoy absolute forgetfulness.

 

 

 

 

XVII

 

AT the break of day next morning, Strong rose and called his

fellow-travellers. Beside the turnpike he built a fire, over which he

began to cook fish and potatoes and coffee. When the Migleys had come,

all sat on a blanket within reach of their food and helped themselves in

a fashion almost as ancient as the hills. Then Strong gave the coon his

share, and washed the dishes and got his pack ready. It was a tramp of

four miles to the station below Pitkin. They arrived there, however,

before the sun was an hour high.

 

When they were seated in the end of the smoking-car, with coon and pack

beside them, Mr. Migley began to reveal the plans of the great king,

Business. Having increased his territory, he now felt the need of

adding to his power. He must have more legislation, for there were to

be ruthless changes of the map. Those few really free and independent

people who dwelt in and near the Lost River country were to be his

subjects and they must learn to obey. At least they must not oppose him

and make trouble. Gently his envoy began.

 

"You know," said he, "there's to be a new member of Assembly in our

district."

 

Strong nodded.

 

"I want my son to go," the elder Migley went on, as he winked

suggestively. "He's going to make his home in Pitkin, and it's very

necessary to his plans that you people should be with him. He's got the

talent of a statesman. Ask anybody who knows the boy."

 

He paused a moment. The Emperor made no reply.

 

"Level-headed and reliable in every spot an' place, an' a good-looker,"

Migley continued, as if he were selling a road-horse, while he nudged

the Emperor. "Look at him. I'd swap faces with that boy any day and give

him ten thousand dollars to boot. Wouldn't you?"

 

Mr. Migley spoke in dead earnest. He pinched the knee of Strong and

waited for his reply.

 

"W-wouldn't fit me," the Emperor replied.

 

"Pop" Migley took the answer as a compliment and gurgled with good

feeling.

 

"Strong, you're a kind of a boss up here in the hills," said he. "There

isn't a jay in the pine lands that wouldn't walk twenty miles to caucus

if you asked him to."

 

"Dunno," Strong answered, doubtfully.

 

"I know what I'm talking about," said the lumberman, with a smile. "I

want the vote o' the town o' Pitkin. If we get that we can give 'em all

the flag."

 

Strong was not unaccustomed to this kind of appeal. There were not many

voters in his town, but they always followed the Emperor.

 

"You can get it for us," Mr. Migley insisted.

 

"N-no."

 

"Why not?"

 

"I've promised to help M-Master."

 

"Oh, well, now, look here--you and I ought to be friends," said Migley.

"We ought to stand by each other. You look out for me and I'll look out

for you."

 

As he offered his alliance, Migley tenderly pressed the shoulder of

Silas Strong. Then he put his index-finger on that square of latitude

and longitude which indicated the region of his heart, and added,

impressively, "I have the reputation of being true to my friends--ask

anybody."

 

The hunter sat filling his pipe in silence.

 

"With what's pledged to us, if we get this town we can win easy."

 

Strong began to puff at his pipe thoughtfully. Here sat a man who could

make or break him. His face reddened a little. He shook his head.

 

Mr. Migley had caught the eye of a man he knew--Joe Socket--postmaster

and politician of Moon Lake. He rose, tapped the shoulder of Strong, and

said, "Think it over." Then he hurried down the aisle of the car.

 

He leaned over and whispered into the ear of Socket, "What kind of a man

is Strong?"

 

"Square," said the other, promptly. "A little cranky in some ways, but

you can depend upon him. He'll do What he says--the devil couldn't turn

him."

 

"He says he's pledged to Master--that chap who's come up here with a bag

o' money. Do you think Master has bought him?"

 

"I don't think so. I suppose he could be bought, but--but I never knew

of his taking money. The boys of the back country swear by the Emperor;

they look up to him. Fact is, Sile Strong is a ------ ---- good fellow."

 

His oath seemed to contradict his affirmation.

 

"He's like a rock," said Migley. "The glad hand don't make any

impression. What ye going to do with a man who won't drink or talk or

swap lies with ye? I could put the poor devil out of house and home, but

he don't seem to care."

 

"We'll turn him over to the Congressman," Socket answered. "He'll bring

him into camp. If not we can get along without him."

 

The fact was the "Emperor of the Woods" was not like any other man they

had to deal with--in history, character, and caliber.

 

He used his brain for a definite purpose--"to think out thoughts with,"

as he was wont to say, and if his heart approved of them they were

right, and he could no more change them than a tree could change its

bark or its foliage.

 

As yet the arts and allies of the flatterer had no power over him. He

was content and without any false notion of his own importance.

 

 

 

 

XVIII

 

WHAT a fair of American citizenship was on its way to Hillsborough this

morning of the Fourth of July! They that now crowded the train were like

others travelling on all the main thoroughfares of the county--farmers

and their wives, rustic youths and their sweethearts, mill-hands and

mill-owners, teamsters, sawyers, axemen, guides, and storekeepers. They

were celebrating a day's release from the tyranny of Business, and were

not deeply moved by the tyranny which their grandfathers had suffered.

History, save that of the present hour, did not much concern them.

 

They were mostly sound-hearted men. There were some who, in answer to

the charge that a local statesman had got riches in the Legislature,

were wont to say, "He'd be a fool if he hadn't." He was "a good fellow,"

anyhow, and they loved a good fellow. All the men of wealth and place

and power were in his favor, and had practised upon them the subtle arts

of the friend-maker. They would not have accepted "a bribe"--these good

people now on their way to Hillsborough--but they could get all kinds

of favors from Joe Socket and Pop Migley and Horace Dumay and other

henchmen of the wealthy boss and legislator. They had yielded to the

insidious briberies of friendship--warm greetings and handshakes, loans,

small sinecures, compliments, pledges of undying esteem over clinking

glasses, and similar condescension. They loved the forest and were

sorry to see it go, but many of them got their bread-and-butter by its

downfall--directly or indirectly--and then Socket, Dumay, and

Migley were nothing more or less than lumber, pulp, and water-power

personified. They were like the lords and barons of the olden time--less

arrogant but more powerful. Indeed, Strong was right--the tyrant of the

modern world is that ruthless giant that he called "Business," and his

nobles are coal, iron, cotton, wool, food, power, paper, and lumber.

These people on the edge of the woodland were slaves of power, paper,

and lumber. With able and designing chiefs this great triumvirate gently

drove the good people this way and that, and there was a little touch

of irony in this journey of the latter to celebrate their freedom and

independence.

 

One who knew them could not help feeling that the old martial spirit

of the day was wholly out of harmony with their own. They were a

peace-loving people, purged of their fathers' hatred, and roars of

defiance found no echo in any breast--save those overheated by alcohol.