Under the Lions Paw
By Hamlin Garland
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Along the main-travelled road trailed an endless line of prairie schooners. Coming into sight at the east, and passing out of sight over the swell to the west. We children used to wonder where they were going and why they went.
IT was the last of autumn and first day of winter coming together. All day long the ploughmen on their prairie farms had moved to and fro in their wide level fields through the falling snow, which melted as it fell, wetting them to the skin all day, notwithstanding the frequent squalls of snow, the dripping, desolate clouds, and the muck of the furrows, black and tenacious as tar.
Under their dripping harness the horses swung to and fro silently with that marvellous uncomplaining patience which marks the horse. All day the wild geese, honking wildly, as they sprawled sidewise down the wind, seemed to be fleeing from an enemy behind, and with neck outthrust and wings extended, sailed down the wind, soon lost to sight.
Yet the ploughman behind his plough, though the snow lay on his ragged great-coat, and the cold clinging mud rose on his heavy boots, fettering him like gyves, whistled in the very beard of the gale. As day passed, the snow, ceasing to melt, lay along the ploughed land, and lodged in the depth of the stubble, till on each slow round the last furrow stood out black and shining as jet between the ploughed land and the gray stubble.
When night began to fall, and the geese, flying low, began to alight invisibly in the near corn-field, Stephen Council was still at work finishing a land. He rode on his sulky plough when going with the wind, but walked when facing it. Sitting bent and cold but cheery under his slouch hat, he talked encouragingly to his four-in-hand.
Come round there, boys! Round agin! We got t finish this land. Come in there, Dan! Stiddy, Kate, stiddy! None o yr tantrums, Kittie. Its purty tuff, but got a be did. Tchk! tchk! Step along, Pete! Dont let Kate git yr single-tree on the wheel. Once more!
They seemed to know what he meant, and that this was the last round, for they worked with greater vigor than before. Once more, boys, an then, sez I, oats an a nice warm stall, an sleep fr all.
By the time the last furrow was turned on the land it was too dark to see the house, and the snow was changing to rain again. The tired and hungry man could see the light from the kitchen shining through the leafless hedge, and he lifted a great shout, Supper fr a half a dozen!
It was nearly eight oclock by the time he had finished his chores and started for supper. He was picking his way carefully through the mud, when the tall form of a man loomed up before him with a premonitory cough.
Waddy ye want? was the rather startled question of the farmer.
Well, ye see, began the stranger, in a deprecating tone, wed like t git in fr the night. Weve tried every house fr the last two miles, but they hadnt any room fr us. My wifes jest about sick, n the children are cold and hungry
Oh, y want o stay all night, eh,?
Yes, sir; it ud be a great accom
Waal, I dont make it a practice t turn anybuddy way hungry, not on sech nights as this. Drive right in. We aint got much, but sech as it is
But the stranger had disappeared. And soon his steaming, weary team, with drooping heads and swinging single-trees, moved past the well to the block beside the path. Council stood at the side of the schooner and helped the children out two little half-sleeping children and then a small woman with a babe in her arms.
There ye go! he shouted jovially, to the children. Now were all right! Run right along to the house there, an tell Mam Council you wants sumpthin t eat. Right this way, Mis keep right off t the right there. Ill go an git a lantern. Come, he said to the dazed and silent group at his side.
Mother he shouted, as he neared the fragrant and warmly lighted kitchen, here are some wayfarers an folks who need sumpthin t eat an a place t snoot. He ended by pushing them all in.
Mrs. Council, a large, jolly, rather coarse-looking woman, too the children in her arms. Come right in, you little rabbits. Mos asleep, hey? Now heres a drink o milk fr each o ye. Ill have sam tea in a minute. Take off yr things and set up t the fire.
While she set the children to drinking milk, Council got out his lantern and went out to the barn to help the stranger about his team, where his loud, hearty voice could be heard as it came and went between the haymow and the stalls.
The woman came to light as a small, timid, and discouraged looking woman, but still pretty, in a thin and sorrowful way.
Land sakes! An youve travelled all the way from Clear Lake t-day in this mud! Waal! Waal! No wonder youre all tired out Dont wait fr the men, Mis She hesitated, waiting for the name.
Haskins.
Mis Haskins, set right up to the table an take a good swig o tea whilst I make y sm toast. Its green tea, an its good. I tell Council as I git older I dont seem to enjoy Young Hyson nr Gunpowder. I want the reel green tea, jest as it comes offn the vines. Seems t have more heart in it, some way. Dont spose it has. Council says its all in m eye.
Going on in this easy way, she soon had the children filled with bread and milk and the woman thoroughly at home, eating some toast and sweet-melon pickles, and sipping the tea.
See the little rats! she laughed at the children. Theyre full as they can stick now, and they want to go to bed. Now, dont git up, Mis Haskins; set right where you are an let me look after em. I know all about young ones, though Im all alone now. Jane went an married last fall. But, as I tell Council, its lucky we keep our health. Set right there, Mis Haskins; I wont have you stir a finger.
It was an unmeasured pleasure to sit there in the warm, homely kitchen. the jovial chatter of the housewife driving out and holding at bay the growl of the impotent, cheated wind.
The little womans eyes filled with tears which fell down upon the sleeping baby in her arms. The world was not so desolate and cold and hopeless, after all.
Now I hope. Council wont stop out there and talk politics all night. Hes the greatest man to talk politics an read the TribuneHow old is it?
She broke off and peered down at the face of the babe.
Two months n five days, said the mother, with a mothers exactness.
Ye dont say! I want o know! The dear little pudzy-wudzy! she went on, stirring it up in the neighborhood of the ribs with her fat forefinger.
Pooty tough on oo to go gallivantn cross lots this way
Yes, thats so; a man cant lift a mountain, said Council, entering the door. Mother, this is Mr. Haskins, from Kansas. Hes been eat up n drove out by grasshoppers.
Glad t see yeh! Pa, empty that wash-basin n give him a chance t wash. Haskins was a tall man, with a thin, gloomy face. His hair was a reddish brown, like his coat, and seemed equally faded by the wind and sun, and his sallow face, though hard and set, was pathetic somehow. You would have felt that he had suffered much by the line of his mouth showing under his thin, yellow mustache.
Hadnt Ike got home yet, Sairy?
Hadnt seen im.
W-a-a-l, set right up, Mr. Haskins; wade right into what weve got; taint much, but we manage to live on it she gits fat on it, laughed Council, pointing his thumb at his wife.
After supper, while the women put the children to bed, Haskins and Council talked on, seated near the huge cooking-stove, the steam rising from their wet clothing. In the Western fashion Council told as much of his own life as he drew from his guest. He asked but few questions, but by and by the story of Haskins struggles and defeat came out. The story was a terrible one, but he told it quietly, seated with his elbows on his knees, gazing most of the time at the hearth.
I didnt like the looks of the country, anyhow, Haskins said, partly rising and glancing at his wife. I was ust t northern Ingyannie, where we have lots o timber n lots o rain, n I didnt like the looks o that dry prairie. What galled me the worst was goin s far away acrosst so much fine land layin all through here vacant.
And the hoppers eat ye four years, hand runnin, did they? Eat! They wiped us out. They chawed everything that was green. They jest set around waitin fr us to die t eat us, too. My God! I ust t dream of em sittin round on the bedpost, six feet long, workin their jaws. They eet the fork-handles. They got worse n worse till they jest rolled on one another, piled up like snow in winter Well, it aint no use. If I was t talk all winter I couldnt tell nawthin. But all the while I couldnt help thinkin of all that land back here that nobuddy was usin that I ought o had stead o bein out there in that cussed country.
Waal, why didnt ye stop an settle here? asked Ike, who had come in and was eating his supper.
Fer the simple reason that you fellers wantid ten r fifteen dollars an acre fer the bare land, and I hadnt no money fer that kind o thing.
Yes, I do my own work, Mrs. Council was heard to say in the pause which followed. Im a gettin purty heavy t be on mlaigs all day, but we cant afford t hire, so I keep rackin around somehow, like a foundered horse. S lame I tell Council he can t tell how lame I am, fr Im jest as lame in one laig as t other. And the good soul laughed at the joke on herself as she took a handful of flour and dusted the biscuit-board to keep the dough from sticking.
Well, I hadnt never been very strong, said Mrs. Haskins. Our folks was Canadians an small-boned, and then since my last child I hadnt got up again fairly. I dont like t complain. Tim has about all he can bear now but they was days this week when I jest wanted to lay right down an die.
Waal, now, Ill tell ye, said Council, from his side of the stove silencing everybody with his good-natured roar, Id go down and see Butler, anyway, if I was you. I guess hed let you have his place purty cheap; the farms all run down. Hes teen anxious t let t somebuddy next year. It ud be a good chance fer you. Anyhow, you go to bed and sleep like a babe. Ive got some ploughing t do, anyhow, an well see if somethin cant be done about your case. Ike, you go out an see if the horses is all right, an Ill show the folks t bed.
When the tired husband and wife were lying under the generous quilts of the spare bed, Haskins listened a moment to the wind in the eaves, and then said, with a slow and solemn tone,
There are people in this world who are good enough t be angels, an only haff t die to be angels.
Jim Butler was one of those men called in the West land poor. Early in the history of Rock River he had come into the town and started in the grocery business in a small way, occupying a small building in a mean part of the town. At this period of his life he earned all he got, and was up early and late sorting beans, working over butter, and carting his goods to and from the station. But a change came over him at the end of the second year, when he sold a lot of land for four times what he paid for it. From that time forward he believed in land speculation as the surest way of getting rich. Every cent he could save or spare from his trade he put into land at forced sale, or mortgages on land, which were just as good as the wheat, he was accustomed to say.
Farm after farm fell into his hands, until he was recognized as one of the leading landowners of the county. His mortgages were scattered all over Cedar County, and as they slowly but surely fell in he sought usually to retain the former owner as tenant.
He was not ready to foreclose; indeed, he had the name of being one of the easiest men in the town. He let the debtor off again and again, extending the time whenever possible.
I dont want yr land, he said. All Im after is the intrest on my money thats all. Now, if y want o stay on the farm, why, Ill give y a good chance. I cant have the land layin vacant. And in many cases the owner remained as tenant.
In the meantime he had sold his store; he couldnt spend time in ithe was mainly occupied now with sitting around town on rainy days smoking and gassin with the boys, or in riding to and from his farms. In fishing-time he fished a good deal. Doc Grimes, Ben Ashley, and Cal Cheatham were his cronies on these fishing excursions or hunting trips in the time of chickens or partridges. In winter they went to Northern Wisconsin to shoot deer.
In spite of all these signs of easy life Butler persisted in saying he hadnt enough money to pay taxes on his land, and was careful to convey the impression that he was poor in spite of his twenty farms. At one time he was said to be worth fifty thousand dollars, but land had been a little slow of sale of late, so that he was not worth so much.
A fine farm, known as the Higley place, had fallen into his hands in the usual way the previous year, and he had not been able to find a tenant for it. Poor Higley, after working himself nearly to death on it in the attempt to lift the mortgage, had gone off to Dakota, leaving the farm and his curse to Butler.
This was the farm which Council advised Haskins to apply for; and the next day Council hitched up his team and drove down to see Butler.
You jest let me do the talkin, he said. Well find him wearin out his pants on some salt barrel somewers; and if he thought you wanted a place hed sock it to you hot and heavy. You jest keep quiet, Ill fix im.
Butler was seated in Ben Ashleys store telling fish yarns when Council sauntered in casually.
Hello, But; lyin agin, hey?
Hello, Steve! How goes it?
Oh, so-so. Too clang much rain these days. I thought it was goin t freeze up fr good last night. Tight squeak if I get m ploughin done. Hows farmin with you these days?
Bad. Ploughin aint half done.
It ud be a religious idee fr you t go out an take a hand yrself.
I dont haff to, said Butler, with a wink.
Got anybody on the Higley place?
No. Know of anybody?
Waal, no; not eggsackly. Ive got a relation back t Michigan whos ben hot an cold on the idea o comin West fr some time. Might come if he could get a good lay-out. What do you talk on the farm?
Well, I d know. Ill rent it on shares or Ill rent it money rent.
Waal, how much money, say?
Well, say ten per cent, on the price two-fifty.
Wall, that aint bad. Wait on im till e thrashes?
Haskins listened eagerly to this important question, but Council was coolly eating a dried apple which he had speared out of a barrel with his knife. Butler studied him carefully.
Well, knocks me out of twenty-five dollars interest.
My relationll need all hes got t git his crops in, said Council, in the same, indifferent way.
Well, all right; say wait, concluded Butler.
All right; this is the man. Haskins, this is Mr. Butler no relation to Ben the hardest-working man in Cedar County.
On the way home Haskins said: I aint much better off. Id like that farm; its a good farm, but its all run down, an so m I. I could make a good farm of it if I had half a show. But I cant stock it nr seed it.
Waal, now, dont you worry, roared Council in his ear. Well pull y through somehow till next harvest. Hes agreed t hire it ploughed, an you can earn a hundred dollars ploughin an y cn git the seed o me, an pay me back when y can.
Haskins was silent with emotion, but at last he said, I aint got nothin t live on.
Now, dont you worry bout that. You jest make your headquarters at ol Steve Councils. Motherll take a pile o comfort in havin yr wife an children round.
Y see, Janes married off lately, an Ikes away a good eal, so well be darn glad t have y stop with us this winter. Nex spring well see if y cant git a start agin. And he chirruped to the team, which sprang forward with the rumbling, clattering wagon.
Say, looky here, Council, you cant do this. I never saw shouted Haskins in his neighbors ear.
Council moved about uneasily in his seat and stopped his stammering gratitude by saying: Hold on, now; dont make such a fuss over a little thing. When I see a man down, an things all on top of m, I jest like t kick em off an help m up. Thats the kind of religion I got, an its about the only kind.
They rode the rest of the way home in silence. And when the red light of the lamp shone out into the darkness of the cold and windy night, and he thought of this refuge for his children and wife, Haskins could have put his arm around the neck of his burly companion and squeezed him like a lover. But he contented himself with saying, Steve Council, youll git yr pay fr this some day.
Dont want any pay. My religion aint run on such business principles.
The wind was growing colder, and the ground was covered with a white frost, as they turned into the gate of the Council farm, and the children came rushing out, shouting, Papas come! They hardly looked like the same children who had sat at the table the night before. Their torpidity, under the influence of sunshine and Mother Council, had given way to a sort of spasmodic cheerfulness, as insects in winter revive when laid on the hearth.
Haskins worked like a fiend, and his wife, like the heroic woman that she was, bore also uncomplainingly the most terrible burdens. They rose early and toiled without intermission till the darkness fell on the plain, then tumbled into bed, every bone and muscle aching with fatigue, to rise with the sun next morning to the same round of the same ferocity of labor.
The eldest boy drove a team all through the spring, ploughing and seeding, milked the cows, and did chores innumerable, in most ways taking the place of a man.
An infinitely pathetic but common figure this boy on the American farm, where there is no law against child labor. To see him in his coarse clothing, his huge boots, and his ragged cap, as he staggered with a pail of water from the well, or trudged in the cold and cheerless dawn out into the frosty field behind his team, gave the city-bred visitor a sharp pang of sympathetic pain. Yet Haskins loved his boy, and would have saved him from this if he could, but he could not.
By June the first year the result of such Herculean toil began to show on the farm. The yard was cleaned up and sown to grass, the garden ploughed and planted, and the house mended.
Council had given them four of his cows.
Take em an run em on shares. I dont want o milk s many. Ikes away s much now, Satdys an Sundys, I cant stand the bother anyhow.
Other men, seeing the confidence of Council in the newcomer, had sold him tools on time; and as he was really an able farmer, he soon had round him many evidences of his care and thrift. At the advice of Council he had taken the farm for three years, with the privilege of re-renting or buying at the end of the term.
Its a good bargain, an y want o nail it, said Council. If you have any kind ov a crop, you cn pay yr debts, an keep seed an bread.
The new hope which now sprang up in the heart of Haskins and his wife grew almost as a pain by the time the wide field of wheat began to wave and rustle and swirl in the winds of July. Day after day he would snatch a few moments after supper to go and look at it.
Have ye seen the wheat t-day, Nettie? he asked one night as he rose from supper.
No, Tim, I aint had time.
Well, take time now. Lets go look at it.
She threw an old hat on her head Tommys hat and looking almost pretty in her thin, sad way, went out with her husband to the hedge.
Aint it grand, Nettie? Just look at it.
It was grand. Level, russet here and there, heavy-headed, wide as a lake, and full of multitudinous whispers and gleams of wealth, it stretched away before the gazers like the fabled field of the cloth of gold.
Oh, I think I hope well have a good crop, Tim; and oh, how good the people have been to us!
Yes; I dont know where wed be t-day if it hadnt teen fr Council and his wife.
Theyre the best people in the world, said the little woman, with a great sob of gratitude.
Well be in the field on Monday sure, said Haskins, gripping the rail on the fences as if already at the work of the harvest.
The harvest came, bounteous, glorious, but the winds came and blew it into tangles, and the rain matted it here and there close to the ground, increasing the work of gathering it threefold.
Oh, how they toiled in those glorious days! Clothing dripping with sweat, arms aching, filled with briers, fingers raw and bleeding, backs broken with the weight of heavy bundles, Haskins and his man toiled on. Tummy drove the harvester, while his father and a hired man bound on the machine. In this way they cut ten acres every day, and almost every night after supper, when the hand went to bed, Haskins returned to the field shocking the bound grain in the light of the moon. Many a night he worked till his anxious wife came out at ten oclock to call him in to rest and lunch. At the same time she cooked for the men, took care of the children, washed and ironed, milked the cows at night, made the butter, and sometimes fed the horses and watered them while her husband kept at the shocking.
No slave in the Roman galleys could have toiled so frightfully and lived, for this man thought himself a free man, and that he was working for his wife and babes.
When he sank into his bed with a deep groan of relief, too tired to change his grimy, dripping clothing, he felt that he was getting nearer and nearer to a home of his own, and pushing the wolf of want a little farther from his door.
There is no despair so deep as the despair of a homeless man or woman. To roam the roads of the country or the streets of the city, to feel there is no rood of ground on which the feet can rest, to halt weary and hungry outside lighted windows and hear laughter and song within, these are the hungers and rebellions that drive men to crime and women to shame.
It was the memory of this homelessness, and the fear of its coming again, that spurred Timothy Haskins and Nettie, his wife, to such ferocious labor during that first year.
M, yes; m, yes; first-rate, said Butler, as his eye took in the neat garden, the pig-pen, and the well-filled barnyard. Youre gittn quite a stock around yeh. Done well, eh? Haskins was showing Butler around the place. He had not seen it for a year, having spent the year in Washington and Boston with Ashley, his brother-in-law, who had been elected to Congress.
Yes, Ive laid out a good deal of money durin the last three years. Ive paid out three hundred dollars fr fencin.
Um hm! I see, I see, said Butler, while Haskins went on:
The kitchen there cost two hundred; the barn aint cost much in money, but Ive put a lot o time on it. Ive dug a new well, and I
Yes, yes, I see. Youve done well. Stock worth a thousand dollars, said Butler, picking his teeth with a straw.
About that, said Haskins, modestly. We begin to feels if we was gittn a home fr ourselves; but weve worked hard. I tell you we begin to feel it, Mr. Butler, and were goin t begin to ease up purty soon. Weve been kind o plannin a trip back t her folks after the fall ploughins done.
Eggs-actly! said Butler, who was evidently thinking of something else. I suppose youve kind o calclated on stayin here three years more?
Well, yes. Fact is, I think I cn buy the farm this fall, if youll give me a reasonable show.
Um m! What do you call a reasonable show?
Well, say a quarter down and three years time.
Butler looked at the huge stacks of wheat, which filled the yard, over which the chickens were fluttering and crawling, catching grasshoppers, and out of which the crickets were singing innumerably. He smiled in a peculiar way as he said, Oh, I wont be hard on yeh. But what did you expect to pay fr the place?
Why, about what you offered it for before, two thousand five hundred, or possibly three thousand dollars, he added quickly, as he saw the owner shake his head.
This farm is worth five thousand and five hundred dollars, said Butler, in a careless and decided voice.
What! almost shrieked the astounded Haskins. Whats that? Five thousand? Why, thats double what you offered it for three years ago.
Of course, and its worth it. It was all run down thennow its in good shape. Youve laid out fifteen hundred dollars in improvements, according to your own story.
But you had nothin t do about that. Its my work an my money.
You bet it was; but its my land.
But whats to pay me for all my
Aint you had the use of em? replied Butler, smiling calmly into his face.
Haskins was like a man struck on the head with a sandbag; he couldnt think; he stammered as he tried to say: But I neverd git the use Youd rob me! Moren that: you agreed you promised that I could buy or rent at the end of three years at
Thats all right. But I didnt say Id let you carry off the improvements, nor that Id go on renting the farm at two-fifty. The land is doubled in value, it dont matter how; it dont enter into the question; an now you can pay me five hundred dollars a year rent, or take it on your own terms at fifty-five hundred, or git out.
He was turning away when Haskins, the sweat pouring from his face, fronted him, saying again:
But youve done nothing to make it so. You hadnt added a cent. I put it all there myself, expectin to buy. I worked an sweat to improve it. I was workin for myself an babes
Well, why didnt you buy when I offered to sell? What y kickin about?
Im kickin about payin you twice fr my own things, my own fences, my own kitchen, my own garden.
Butler laughed. Youre too green t eat, young feller. Your improvements! The law will sing another tune.
But I trusted your word.
Never trust anybody, my friend. Besides, I didnt promise not to do this thing. Why, man, dont look at me like that. Dont take me for a thief. Its the law. The reglar thing. Everybody does it.
I dont care if they do. Its stealin jest the same. You take three thousand dollars of my money the work o my hands and my wifes. He broke down at this point. He was not a strong man mentally. He could face hardship, ceaseless toil, but he could not face the cold and sneering face of Butler.
But I dont take it, said Butler, coolly All youve got to do is to go on jest as youve been a-coin, or give me a thousand dollars down, and a mortgage at ten per cent on the rest.
Haskins sat down blindly on a bundle of oats near by, and with staring eyes and drooping head went over the situation. He was under the lions paw. He felt a horrible numbness in his heart and limbs. He was hid in a mist, and there was no path out.
Butler walked about, looking at the huge stacks of grain, and pulling now and again a few handfuls out, shelling the heads in his hands and blowing the chaff away. He hummed a little tune as he did so. He had an accommodating air of waiting.
Haskins was in the midst of the terrible toil of the last year. He was walking again in the rain and the mud behind his ploughhe felt the dust and dirt of the threshing. The ferocious husking-time, with its cutting wind and biting, clinging snows, lay hard upon him. Then he thought of his wife, how she had cheerfully cooked and baked, without holiday and without rest.
Well, what do you think of it? inquired the cool, mocking, insinuating voice of Butler.
I think youre a thief and a liar! shouted Haskins, leaping up. A black-hearted houn! Butlers smile maddened him; with a sudden leap he caught a fork in his hands, and whirled it in the air. Youll never rob another man, damn ye! he grated through his teeth, a look of pitiless ferocity in his accusing eyes.
Butler shrank and quivered, expecting the blow; stood, held hypnotized by the eyes of the man he had a moment before despised a man transformed into an avenging demon. But in the deadly hush between the lift of the weapon and its fall there came a gush of faint, childish laughter and then across the range of his vision, far away and dim, he saw the sun-bright head of his baby girl, as, with the pretty, tottering run of a two-year-old, she moved across the grass of the dooryard. His hands relaxed: the fork fell to the ground; his head lowered.
Make out yr deed an morgage, an git offn my land, an dont ye never cross my line agin; if y do, Ill kill ye.
Butler backed away from the man in wild haste, and climbing into his buggy with trembling limbs drove off down the road, leaving Haskins seated dumbly on the sunny pile of sheaves, his head sunk into his hands.
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