The Man in Gray: A Romance of North and South Part 30

"You can keep your pistol."

"I intend to."

"But you are not to use it, sir, without my orders."

"I am not going to use it at all, except in self-defense."

"You will not be called upon to defend yourself. I am going on a divine mission. G.o.d has shown me the way in a Vision. I wish no man's help who must be driven."

"You'll not get any help, sir. I wouldn't have gone on that survey with you if I'd known what was in your mind."

Brown searched his son's eyes keenly.

"You will not betray me to my enemies?"

"I can't do that. You're my father."

He turned to Frederick.

"Nor you?"

The tears were streaming down the boy's face. He was hysterical from the strain of the fight.

"You heard me, sir," the father stormed.

"What did you say?" Frederick stammered.

Oliver explained.

"He asked if you were going to betray his plans to those people on the Pottawattomie."

A far-away expression came into his eyes.

"No--no--not that."

"Then you'll both follow and keep out of my way until we have finished the work and then come back with me?"

"Yes," Oliver answered.

"Yes," Frederick echoed vaguely.

Townsley and Weiner were coming with the pair of grays to be hitched to the wagon. Weiner led his own pony already saddled. When they reached the wagon all signs of rebellion had pa.s.sed.

"Are you ready?" Townsley asked.

"Ready." Brown's metallic voice rang.

The horses were hitched to the wagon, the provisions and equipment loaded. Brown turned to his loyal followers:

"Arm yourselves."

Owen, Salmon, Henry Thompson, Theodore Weiner and John Brown each buckled a loaded revolver about his waist, and seized a rifle and cutla.s.s.

Weiner mounted his pony as an outpost rider and the others climbed into the wagon. Oliver and Frederick agreed to follow on foot. The expedition moved toward the Southern settlement on Pottawattomie Creek.

Brown crouched low in the wagon as it moved slowly forward and a look of cunning marked his grim face.

He was the Witch Hunter now. The chase was on. And the game was human.

As the sun was setting behind the Western horizon in a glow of orange and purple glory the strange expedition drove down to the edge of the timber between two deep ravines and camped a mile above Dutch Henry's Crossing of the Pottawattomie.

The scene was one of serene beauty. The month of May--Sat.u.r.day, the twenty-third. Nature was smiling in the joy of her happiest hour. Peace on earth, plenty, good will and happiness breathed from every bud and leaf and song of bird.

The broad prairies of the Territory were fertile and sunny. They stretched away in unbroken, sublime loveliness until the land kissed the infinite of the skies. Unless one had the feeling for this suggestion of an inland sea the view might be depressing and the eye of the traveler weary.

The spot which John Brown picked for his camp was striking in its beauty and picturesque appeal. Winding streams, swelling hills, and steep ravines broke the monotony of the plains.

The streams were bordered by the rich foliage of n.o.ble trees. The streams were called "Creeks." In reality, they were beautiful rivers in the month of May--the Marais des Cygnes and the Pottawattomie. They united near Osawatomie to form the Osage River, the largest tributary to the Missouri below its mountain sources. Each river had its many tributaries winding gracefully along wood-fringed banks.

Beyond these ribbons of beautiful foliage stretched the gorgeous carpet of the gra.s.s-matted, flower-strewn prairies.

The wild flowers were in full bloom, pus.h.i.+ng their red, white, yellow, blue and pink heads above the gra.s.s. The wind was blowing a steady life-giving gale. The fields of flowers bowed and swayed and rose again at its touch. Their perfume filled the air. The perfume of the near-by fields was mingled with the odor of thousands of miles of prairie gardens to the south and west. A peculiar clearness in the atmosphere gave the widest range to vision. Brown climbed the hill alone while his men were unpacking. From the hilltop, even in the falling twilight, he could see clearly for thirty or forty miles.

He swept the horizon for signs of the approach of a party which might interfere with his plan.

He knelt again and prayed to his G.o.d, as the twilight deepened into darkness. The stars came out one by one and blinked down at his bent figure still in prayer, his eyes uplifted in an uncanny glare.

As he slowly moved back to his camp he met Townsley.

Frederick and Oliver had reached camp and Townsley had caught a note of the sinister in their whispered talk. He didn't like the looks of it.

Brown had told him there was trouble brewing on the Pottawattomie. He had supposed, as a matter of course, that it was the long-threatened attack of enemies on Weiner's store. Weiner, a big, quarrelsome Austrian, had been in more than one fist fight with his neighbors.

Brown studied Townsley and decided to give him but a hint of his true purpose. He didn't like this sign of weakness on the eve of great events.

Townsley took the hint with a grain of salt, but what he heard was enough to bring alarm. The thing Brown had hinted was incredible.

But as Townsley looked at the leader he realized that he was not an ordinary man. There was something extraordinary about him. He either commanded the absolute obedience of men who came near him or he sent them from him with a repulsion as strong as the attraction to those who liked him.

He felt the smothering power of this spell over his own mind now and tried to break it.

"Mr. Brown," Townsley began haltingly, "I've brought you here now. You are snug in camp. I'd like to take my team back home."

"To-night?"

"To-night."

"It won't do."