High Twelve

A WINK OF THE EYE

Thus burdened he ran like a deer

It is farthest from my purpose to call up any bitter recollections of the Civil War from 1861 to 1865. A fierceness was marked, especially at the beginning, that in these days seems impossible. These outbursts were not confined to one side, Unionists and Confederates shared in them, but the passing years have dimmed their memory and those who wore the Blue and those who wore the Gray have long been brothers in the truest sense of the word. Thousands of the warmest friendships were formed between those who had striven to their utmost to kill each other, or, as has been said, it was the blood shed on both sides that cemented the Union more firmly than ever before.

I am sure it will be conceded, that in the incidents already narrated relating to the mighty struggle, my underlying purpose has been to illustrate the fraternal nature of Freemasonry. A complete list of such occurrences would fill volumes, but the trend of all is the same--that of helping one another in distress and exercising a charity such as was taught by the greatest Teacher that ever lived.

The incidents which I am about to relate were told me by Richard M. Volney. I have not met him in the long years that followed our series of chats, nor do I know whether he is living. If he is, and these pages should meet his eye, he will confirm everything here set down. At that time I was not a Freemason, though he was. I therefore did not fully appreciate all he said until some years later, when I became a member of the Order.

At the beginning I must note an important but rather curious coincidence. The three men who figure prominently in the incidents bore the same given name, Richard, or, as it was invariably called. "Dick." It is best, perhaps, that I should, so far as possible, let Dick Volney tell his own story. I don't suppose it would make any difference if I gave minute particulars, but to be safe against causing offense, I shall veil a few points. My friend said:

"When the clouds of civil war began to gather, I was Station Agent at a small town in Southern Missouri, on the -- Railway. I acted also as telegraph operator, but the duties of the two offices combined left a good deal of idle time on my hands. There were several daily passenger and freight trains each day, but little travel or business. The section was poor, and in the usual order of events the Railway Company would not declare any dividends on its stock for an indefinite time to come.

"But with the threatening aspect of affairs came a change. The nervous, restless condition of the State seemed to create a taste for moving to and fro. A good many walked, others rode horseback, and still more paid their fare on the Railway. It struck me as curious, and I did not quite understand it, but so it was.

"'If matters remain as they are,' I said, 'this hurly burly will prove a good thing for the company,' but in the nature of things it could not last. When Parson Brownlow, of Knoxville, Tenn., described the situation there in 1861 by the single word 'Hell,' he faithfully pictured affairs in Kentucky and Missouri. It was the border States that were called upon to drain the bitter cup to the dregs and no one, not living in them, can ever comprehend the fiery furnace through which the poor inhabitants had to pass.

"I was a Union man in sentiment, but the majority of those around me were not only red hot Secessionists, but were aggressive to the last degree. Having no wish to die suddenly, I did my best to hide my feelings, though more than once my blood boiled and I was on the verge of casting discretion to the winds.

"Families were divided by feuds of deadly hatred. Fathers hurried off to join the forces of Sterling Price, while their sons separated, some to go with him and others to enlist under Union leaders or affiliate with the guerrilla raiders. When a man met the neighbor who had been his friend from boyhood, he did not know whether the greeting was to be a genial 'Howdy,' or a rifle shot. The skies were lit up by burning homes and crimes were committed which must have made the angels grieve.

"I have said that for a time there was a marked increase in the business of the railway of which I was an employee. Because of this fact I was provided with an assistant or associate, who took turns with me in selling tickets and working the telegraph key. He was a young man about my own age, Richard Gibbons by name, and the son of a widow with whom I boarded and lodged. There was never a more earnest Secessionist and he made no secret of his wish to join the Confederacy as soon as there was a real call for his services. His denunciation of President Lincoln, his hirelings and the abolition government, and his praises of Jeff Davis and the South, caused me to bite my lips many a time, but as I have already said, I was too keenly aware of the certain results of any rash expression on my part, and I bided my time.

"Why did I not leave and join the Union Army? I longed to do so, and I was finally resolved to take the step at an early day, but something seemed to whisper that the time had not yet come and that there was preliminary work to be done. So I held on. I knew the Railway Company appreciated my services, and though the majority of the Officers and Directors sympathized with the Confederacy, they could readily secure my exemption from military service therein. Such exemption was general at first, but was removed later on.

"Dick Gibbons and I alternated on night and day duty. The former lasted from nine in the evening to seven in the morning, while the latter included the intervening hours. When on day duty, the Agent ate his lunch in the office at noon; his associate did the same at midnight. It is necessary to remember this arrangement in order to understand what follows.

"Although I rigidly restrained my sentiments in the presence of Gibbons and never uttered a sentence in his hearing to which he could take exception, I knew he distrusted me. I was of northern birth, and before feeling rose so high, expressed my hope that the Union would be saved. He never forgot this, though I did my best to disabuse his mind.

"'He yearns for an excuse to shoot me,' was my thought, 'and he'll do it, if given the opportunity, unless I get in my shot first.'

"It was during the early months of '61 before Ft. Sumter was fired on, and the country was seething with excitement. I shall never forget that crisp wintry March day and the bright starlit night that followed. I was just about to come out from the railway station which enclosed the chubby sentry box of an office, where I kept my tickets, cash, papers and telegraph apparatus. The little round faced clock above my table showed ten minutes of nine, and as there was a lull in the work, I started to walk out on the platform to stretch my limbs, before the arrival of Gibbons.

"I had not reached the door, which was closed because of the cold, when I heard someone running at headlong speed along the planking. The next instant the door was dashed inward and never before or since, have I seen such a picture of wild terror as stopped before me and banged the door shut behind him. The man was hatless, wore neither coat nor waistcoat, and his shirt was torn open at the throat, as if he had wrenched himself from the grasp upon his necktie. His yellow hair seemed to stand straight up like the quills of a porcupine, and his wide eyes had the glare of a scared tiger. His boots, the legs of which covered his knees, were spattered with mud, and he panted like a dog in the last stage of exhaustion.

"'For God's sake" he gasped, 'hide me quick! They're at my heels!'

"'Whom do you mean?' I asked, 'Who are you?'

"'I haven't time to tell you! Hide me somewhere or I am lost.'

"He glanced, terrified, about him in quest of some place that would serve as a refuge, but there was not a closet in the room. In the corner, however, there was a trap door leading to a shallow cellar, in which we kept a supply of coal, together with boxes barrels and rubbish. I sprang to it, seizing the iron ring and lifted the small lid. A suspicion flashed into my mind and I pushed him back for an instant as he was about to leap down through the opening.

'I leave this office in a few minutes; another man takes my place until tomorrow morning; he will not befriend you as I am doing; don't stir or make the slightest noise until you hear me rap on the door above you; if you do, you're a dead man; down with you.

"'God bless you!" he exclaimed gratefully, as he dropped through the door, which I closed over him.

"It was all done in less time than it has taken me to tell it, but few as were the moments, there was not one to spare. I count it a fortunate gift that what few wits I have are always at instant command. As I was walking the few steps necessary to reach the door, the sounds which reached my ear were those made by several men dashing along the platform. I had time to light a cigar and I delayed the opening of the door so as to confront them as they came forward.

"In the faint glow of the lamp which hung suspended from the middle of the ceiling, I recognized lieutenant Dick Ashman, the most furious Secessionist in town. He had been engaged for several weeks in raising and training recruits for the Southern Army. It was understood that when he secured a hundred men, he was to be. commissioned Captain. At present he was only lieutenant, but his promotion was certain. He was accompanied by half a dozen recruits as eager as he to risk their lives for the Southern Confederacy. Each carried a gun and had a revolver at his hip.

"'Halba, Volney,' called the officer, halting in front of me, 'have you seen anything of a -- abolitionist in the last few minutes?'

"'I don't understand you. Lieutenant,' I replied with a laugh, 'how can I tell the brand?'

"My caller was in no mood to trifle and I made haste to add:

"'I wonder if that could be he I heard a few minutes ago?'

"'Where was he? Quick, man; out with it and no fooling or we'll serve you as we're going to serve him.'

"'I was sitting at my key a few minutes ago,' I said, lying like a Trojan, 'when I heard a man going over the railway ties as if the devil were after him.'

"'Did you get a glimpse of him?'

" 'No, it is too dark.'

"'Which way was he running?'

"'He was headed for St. Louis, and if he keeps up at the rate at which he was going, he'll be there by tomorrow morning.

"'That's the -- !' exclaimed the lieutenant; 'come on, boys, he can't get away from us.'

"And the squad scurried up the platform and disappeared in the night.

"They had hardly gone when the form of a man loomed through the gloom and Dick Gibbons stepped up beside me to take his turn in the office. Prudence prompted me to withhold all reference to the incidents just described and after the exchange of a few civilities, I strolled down the street to my lodgings.

"The thought of this occurrence kept me awake for a long time. Naturally I wondered as to the identity of the fugitive, but I could learn that on the morrow. It is curious that the question that puzzled me most, related to my associate Dick Gibbons. What would he have done if the man fleeing for his life had arrived a few moments later and asked him for protection? Would it be safe to let Gibbons into the secret? Would he not betray him and denounce me to Lieutenant Ashman, who would give me mighty short shrift?

"These questions were never answered, for I am thankful my judgment would not allow me to put them to the test. I sauntered back to the office next morning carrying a more substantial lunch than usual. When Gibbons had gone and a look around showed me no one was on the platform, I stepped to the corner of the main room and struck the heel of my boot three times upon the tray door. I had to repeat the summons before there was a timid response from below, a fact which I was glad to note, though it may have been due to the man being asleep rather than to his vigilance.

"The door was softly raised enough to show the head and shoulders of the fugitive with his tousled hair, white, sweaty face and glaring eyes. He was still shivering with terror and in the dim light I noticed an odd flutter of his lower jaw. He had not fully rallied from his collapse and was the most pitiable object upon which I have ever looked.

"'Is it safe for me to come out?' he asked in a tremulous whisper, staring wildly about him.

'You mustn't think of it.'

"'What time is it?'

"'Not quite eight o'clock, Saturday morning. Tomorrow I shift with my associate and go on night duty. I hope to get you off on the midnight train, but it won't do to try it a minute before. Who are you?'

"'Jared Hepburn, correspondent of the St. Louis Gazette. (This is not the correct name of the paper, which was one of the leading dailies in the Mound City.) 'I have been in this section several weeks. I roasted the secession leaders 80 hard, and especially Lieutenant Dick Ashman, that they got after me. How they discovered my identity I can't imagine, but they did, and here I am.'

"'Keep your voice down. How about this last row with Ashman?'

"'I had gone into a restaurant up the street and was bolting a few mouthfuls, when he and his crowd dashed in, and without warning set upon me. I drew my revolver, but it was wrenched from me before I could use it. I don't know how I managed to save myself, but I fought my way out of the door and you know the rest.'

"'You had a mighty close call. I threw Ashman off the scent, but from what he said, he believes you are hiding near by and won't give up the search for some time. If you will follow my directions and never try to communicate with me until I first give three knocks on the door, there will be a chance of getting you off, but not otherwise.'

"Despite my warning, would you believe that that fool came within a hair's breadth of spoiling everything and bringing down upon me the fate which threatened him? Of course, I was able to keep him supplied with food and drink without rousing suspicion and he never seemed able to express his gratitude.

"The understanding with Gibbons was, that he was to remain at the station until Sunday noon, when I should succeed him till the next morning. The change, as you will note, bore a little hard at first on both of us, but it couldn't be helped. When I walked into the waiting room Sunday noon, I stood for a few minutes talking to my associate about the rush of telegraphic work. We were near the door and since the next train was not due for more than an hour, no waiting passengers were there.

"Suddenly three knocks sounded on the trap door from below.

"'What's that?' asked Gibbons with a start.

"I saw from his glance that he had not located the point whence the signal came.

"'Somebody outside' I replied indifferently, moving to the platform. He followed and I led him far enough to be beyond earshot of any knocks that might be repeated. Naturally we saw nothing to explain the slight occurrence and fortunately the 'war news was so important that we forgot everything else. Gibbons finally started for home to come back the next morning at daylight.

"When certain that I had a few minutes at command, I strode to the trap door, threw it back and angrily called for Hepburn. I was indignant enough to carry out my threat of giving him up and washing my hands of the whole business.

"'I have risked my life to help you' I said 'but I can square myself with Ashman by turning you over to him and that's what I ought to do.'

"He was so sorry that my anger cooled. His explanation was that he had misunderstood me and believed that I was alone on duty when his thirst led him to ask for a drink of water. He assured me he would die before offending again, and of course I forgave him.

"It seemed that the final rescue of the newspaper man would be easy providing his hiding place remained undiscovered for twelve hours longer. Once clear of the town where he had had so narrow an escape, he could readily take care of himself. Even though he landed in another hotbed of secession he could shout for the cause as loud as anybody, He had passed through numberless perils without serious harm, and ought to be able to do so again.

"My plan was for him to board the midnight train north just as other passengers did, and ride as far as he thought advisable. The zone of danger was narrow and would soon be crossed. I had smuggled a cap and coat through the trap door with the last lunch and as he had plenty of funds, I furnished him a regular ticket, for which he paid me.

"Well, to be brief with this part of my story, he stayed in hiding until the rumble of the approaching train was heard; the engine's headlight flashed through the gloom as it swept round the curve to the south and the engineer whistled for brakes. A man and his wife were waiting on the platform and therefore saw nothing of the stealthy emergence of Hepburn, who strolled outside with the indifference of a professional traveler.

"I had a few words with him before he left.

"'Our situations are reversed,' I said, 'and my life is now in your hands.'

"'What do you mean?'

"'If you publish a word of your experience in this town while I am here, and I expect to remain indefinitely, I shall be shot or hanged as sure as the rising of tomorrow's sun.

"'MY dearest of friends,' he protested in a shaking voice, give yourself not a moment's uneasiness on that score. I can never, never forget my debt to you.

"We did not shake hands through fear of attracting notice and the next minute he followed the couple to the train, which steamed away into the night.

"Here, you might suppose, my story ends, but the strangest part is yet to come. The Gazette of which Hepburn was the correspondent had, as it has today, a large circulation in Missouri. It was one of the papers of which I received a copy daily and a number of subscribers lived in the place. It was ardently Union and was widely read by the Secessionists because of that fact. The series of letters which were dated in our town, though it did not follow that they were written or mailed from that point, were of the most violent character. A specially vicious attack upon Lieutenant Dick Ashman, who was called a thief, coward and jailbird, so infuriated that individual that he swore he would have the writer's life. I have shown that he succeeded in identifying the correspondent and came within a hair's breadth of carrying out his threat.

"The third day after the flight of Hepburn, my copy of the Gazette was flung off the train, and having a little leisure at command, I walked into my small quarters, elevated my feet upon the telegraph table, leaned back in my chair and unfolded the paper, curious to learn what it had to say about exciting national affairs.

"The very first words that caught my eye were the scare heads of the opening column:

"'THRILLING ESCAPE!

"'Faithful Among the Faithless!

"'Richard A. Volney a Hero. A Modest Agent of the Railroad Saves the Life of the Gazelle Correspondent. Full particulars!'

"Everything swam before my eyes. It seemed to me that my heart stopped beating and for several minutes I did no breathe. There were two columns of leaded type for the story was the feature of that issue. It was graphically told and in the main accurate, though naturally the writer minified his own craven role and magnified the part he played in the stirring drama. One point he omitted-his solemn pledge at parting not to betray me in the house of my enemies.

"'That means my finish!' I bitterly exclaimed, when I had succeeded in partly pulling myself together, and while I felt morally certain that I should be offered a sacrifice to the unspeakable ingrate, my dominating emotion was raging resentment against him.

"'All I ask,' I muttered, 'is the chance to lay my hands on him for just ten minutes. He would never betray another man!'

"I dropped my feet from the table to the floor and in doing so cleared the view through the window which commanded the fifty feet of railway platform, running parallel with the track. Along the planking six men, led by a seventh, were keeping step as they came briskly toward where I was sitting transfixed. Each carried a gun, after the manner of soldiers and wore a cockade in his slouch hat. There was a crude attempt at uniform, but the Confederacy had not yet officially adopted the Gray, and the effort was not a success.

"The seventh man held a sword, a revolver was at his hip and he grasped a folded newspaper in his left hand. He was Lieutenant Dick Ashman. I knew the name of that paper and the date of its issue.

"Tramp, tramp, the squad marched up the platform to the narrow portion back of the building upon which the rear door opened. There they broke step, halted, and at the word of command, the butts of their muskets banged upon the floor. The Lieutenant thrust open the door and strode across the room to the little window through which I was accustomed to pass tickets and change to passengers.

"I had risen to my feet and was looking through this opening. As I caught the officer's flashing eye. I made a military salute and said in the cheeriest voice I could assume:

'Good morning, Lieutenant!'

"He paid no attention to the salutation, but slapped down the paper, so folded as to show the scareheads I have quoted, and with an oath demanded:

'Do you know anything about that?'

"'I had just finished' reading it as you came up the platform. What do you think of a cur who will give away the man who befriended him in his trouble?'

"Evidently this was not the answer Ashman expected. He thought I should whine and beg for my life. I knew I was standing on the brink, but to betray the fear I felt was the worst course possible. He glared at me for a moment and then roared:

"'What do I think of him? A thousand times more than I do of you, for harboring and lying about the scoundrel!'

"'Lieutenant,' I said, as calmly as I could, looking him in the eye, I didn't know what that man was when he burst into this room and begged me to save him from his pursuers. I didn't know he was your enemy and I did just what you would have done under the same circumstances. I told him to drop through that door and keep still, That's all there is to it.'

'Not by a long shot I told you what he had done and you still shielded him. It's for that I'm going to shoot you.'

"He had worked himself into a frightful passion and was ready to carry out his threat. I was watching his right hand, expecting him each instant to whip out his revolver and fire through the little window. My own hand was at my hip and had he made a move. I should have been the quicker and shot him dead, although it would have prolonged my life for only a few minutes. Instead of doing as I expected however, he commanded:

"'Come out of there -- you, and learn the meaning of the witch's circle!'

"At this supreme moment one of the six men came hurriedly through the door and laying his hand on the arm of the Lieutenant, said peremptorily:

"'Hold on, Dick, this won't do!'

"You need not be reminded that in this instance military discipline was pretty lax to make such a thing possible. For a private to address his officer without his title and in a voice of remonstrance was unprecedented and unheard of afterward, but the private who did so was Alf Rightmyer, Ashman's most intimate friend. Moreover, Rightmyer was senior deacon in the Masonic Lodge of which I was a member.

"The Lieutenant turned angrily upon him:

"'What do you mean, sir?'

"'Come outside and talk this over.

"The Lieutenant stood undecided for a moment, but Rightmyer with a laugh swung him around, grasped his arm and said:

"'Come on, old fellow.'

"The two went out on the platform and I could hear their voices though only now and then a word was distinguishable. Rightmyer afterward repeated the conversation to me.

"The Lieutenant was insistent that I should be shot by the squad that were more than willing to perform the job. Rightmyer maintained that while it would serve me right, military etiquette required that Colonel Mulford should be first consulted and he, though expected home that evening, was just then in Sedalia.

"'You will soon be a Captain in his regiment and it will add to his respect for you if you show him this deference. It is only a simple formality, for there can be no doubt he will promptly tell you to shoot. He has been as much abused as you have by that sheet.

"'If he is certain to give his assent, what's the use of waiting for it?' demanded Ashman.

"'It is only a question of etiquette and military usage. You can afford to hold off till tomorrow morning. What's the odds?'

"'I'll telegraph to Colonel Mulford and we shall get his order inside of an hour.'

"Ashman started to come back and prepare the message. Rightmyer caught his arm again with another laugh.

"'You chump! Don't you suppose Volney will censor the message both ways?'

"'I'll send for Gibbons; we can depend on him.'

"'Not on your life! He and Volney are chums and each will do anything for the other. I shouldn't trust Gibbons out of my sight.'

"'Hang it all! What do you want me to do?'

"'Just what I told you. Wait till the Colonel comes home tonight and secure his assent to shooting Volney to morrow morning. You'll get his permission dead sure.

"'Yes.' snarled Ashman, 'and by morning the bird will be flown. Is that your game?'

"'Dick, you mustn't insult me,' replied Rightmyer in a grieved tone.

"'How are you going to manage it, Alf?' asked the officer in a voice which was a partial apology for his hasty words.

"'Nothing in the world is easier. I'll make Volney think you have decided, on my urgency, to spare his life. Feeling certain that all danger is over, he will be glad to stay here for an indefinite time to come. Depend upon it he will be at his post tomorrow morning waiting for Gibbons to relieve him.'

'I don't like your plan, but have it your own way.

"'Now listen to me,' said Rightmyer, pushing open the door, followed by the Lieutenant, who closed it and remained standing on the other side of the room. He could hear all that was said and see my white face over the shoulder of Rightmyer, as he leaned his elbows on the slide of the little window and glared at me.

"And you ought to have heard what he said! He compared me to Judas Iscariot and Benedict Arnold, much to the advantage of those historical individuals, while I stood dumb, not knowing what to say. He wound up something in this fashion:

"'It is because I know personally that you are a friend of Southern independence that I have persuaded Lieutenant Ashman to overlook your act of treachery, when anybody else would not have honored you with a bullet, but used a rope. I don't think you'll soon forget your lesson.'

"And without another word he turned about, rejoined his scowling friend, and the two passed out and departed with the disappointed squad.

"Throughout the tirade, Aif Rightmyer looked me squarely in the face and I met his gaze unwaveringly. In the 'midst of his abuse, he winked his left eye.

"Nothing in the world is more expressive than such a signal. It told me that my Masonic brother was acting the part of the truest of friends. He meant exactly the opposite of what he said. I caught on like a flash and shifting my pose for an instant, so Ashman could not see me, I returned the wink. We understood each other, though no one could have detected the slightest evidence of it.

"But that is not all my friend did. He had a direct message for me and he delivered it. His left hand (I recalled he was left handed) reached out aimlessly and lifted a yellow telegraph blank and the stub of a lead pencil, tied with a bit of cord and lying beside it, inside of the window slide it was done so deftly that Lieutenant Ashman, who never took his eyes from us, had no suspicion of the action. Without looking down at the paper or his hand, Rightmyer rapidly traced a few words, twisted the paper into a little wad, and flicked it with one finger to the floor at my feet. I did not even glance at it, but continued silently to stare at my accuser until he coolly shoved the pencil back in place, whirled about, slouched across the floor to the door, and passed out with his friend.

"I turned my head and watched the squad who finally stepped down from the farther end of the platform and went off to town. Then I picked up the twist of paper, unrolled it and read the hastily scrawled words:

"'Get out tonight or you are a dead man!''

"I chewed the paper up into a pulp spat it out and smeared it under my foot beyond all possible recognition, muttering gratefully:

"'Aif Rightmyer is a true Freemason!'

"There was but one thing to do,-- that was to board the midnight train, just as the newspaper man had done, and bid goodbye to my town forever, or at least until all peril should pass. I dared make no preparation, beyond quietly pocketing the funds that were rightly mine but came back in the evening at the usual time with my modest lunch. Gibbons bade me good night and started I supposed for his home, but an our after when the telegraph key was still and a tomb-like silence reigned I heard a soft footstep outside. I strolled to the platform as I often did to stretch my legs and slowly paced to and fro. The sky was starlit and I involuntarily contrasted the soothing quiet with the turmoil of the nation itself.

"The dim form of a man took shape in the gloom, at the side of a freight car, which stood on a siding. He did not stir, no, doubt believing he was invisible to me, and I did not give him any evidence to the contrary. I knew it was Gibbons, who was watching me. Of course, he, like every one in town, had learned of the incident of the Gazette correspondent. Lieutenant Ashman, despite the assurance of Rightmyer, felt so uncertain about my remaining at my post that he had asked Gibbons to prevent my flight and my associate gladly undertook the task. It was another illustration of the bitterness that reigned during the early years of the war.

"I was certain Gibbons was still there when a growing rumble told of the approach of the northbound train. Then he came briskly into the room with the remark:

"'I felt restless tonight. Dick, and thought I'd come and find out what is passing over the wires.'

"'There has been nothing special I replied, going out on the platform to exchange a few words with the conductor, as was my custom. I expected to meet Gus Harmon, who had had charge of that train for more than a year and he was a brother Mason, but it was a stranger, whom, in the brief interval I dared not test, nor could I have had a chance to exchange the fewest confidential words with him, while Gibbons was at my elbow on the alert.

"The halt was brief, for the train was late. We three stood at the front near the baggage car; when the Conductor said good night to us, swung aboard and passed out of sight. As the last car came opposite to where I stood it was going at a good clip. I broke into a short run and made a flying leap for the rear platform. I succeeded in landing, but came so near failure that I pitched forward on my hands and knees and only the guard rail saved me from rolling off to the ground.

"But that fall saved my life. Dick Gibbons did not catch the meaning of my dash until I jumped. Then I saw three flashes in quick succession, though the noise of the train drowned the reports. One or all of those bullets would have, hit me, for Dick was an expert with a revolver, had I remained standing. He could not see me, because. the lower part of the car door was wood the upper being of figured glass. To exasperate him with the knowledge that he had failed, I rose when the train was beyond range, pushed open the door and stood for a moment outlined against the illumination beyond.

"I could not have done a more foolish thing. Had I stayed prone until the cars glided around the curve, not far off, Gibbons would have been sure he had hit me and that would have been the last of the matter so far as he was concerned, but he knew I was unhurt and would instantly telegraph to the next station, asking to have me taken off and held until further word could be sent. Such flagrant disregard of the law would be impossible in time of peace, but nothing is impossible when war rages.

"I had provided myself with a ticket to St. Louis, that city being my destination, but the next station was fifteen miles 'from my home town and the schedule time for making it was not quite half an hour. Gibbon's telegram to the agent would give him opportunity to summon a force strong enough to make me a, prisoner and no doubt that was what would take place if I remained on the train.

"I did not think it wise to make a confidant of the Conductor, for there was nothing to be gained thereby. Being at the front when Gibbons opened his fusillade, the rattle of the cars shut out the sound of the reports, and he had yet to solve the mystery of the splintered wood work at the extreme rear.

"The problem that confronted me was as simple as it could be. Lieutenant Ashman's enmity could not follow me far. I had only to reach a section where I was a stranger, when all would be plain sailing.

"Waiting until the train began slowing up for the next station, and while it was still a fair distance, I dropped off the rear platform, and whisked up one of the side streets. At that late hour few lights were burning and I thought it imprudent to go to the single inn in the place. I walked straight out into the country and when daylight came, stopped at a farmhouse, paid for a good breakfast of corn bread and bacon (and let me tell you Missouri beats the world in the way of corn bread), secured a refreshing, sleep, and hired the farmer to take me to the nearest railway station a dozen miles distant. I was in no danger whatever and it is enough to say that on the second day I landed in St. Louis, which was seething, for at that time it contained more Secessionists than Unionists.

"Why did, I go to St. Louis? You may smile, but it was with the unshakable purpose of licking Jared Hepburn to a frazzle. Everything else must wait until that pleasant duty was accomplished. Before leaving my hotel, however, I wrote a letter to Lieutenant Ashman which must have affected him like the Gazelle correspondence some time before. I denounced Aif Rightmyer with equal savagery, saying it was because he had pledged me I should not be molested for acting the Good Samaritan, that I knew the two cowards intended to assassinate me, and explained why I had made a hurried change of base.

"Several years after the war, I learned what took place after my 'French leave.' Colonel Mulford reached home late that night and being appealed to by Ashman, promptly ordered him to see I was shot at daylight. Seemingly the angriest man over my escape was Rightmyer, who did not hesitate to hint that Gibbons had connived at it. The time came when Rightmyer made a clean breast of the whole business. Colonel Mulford and Dick Gibbons had been killed during the war, but Lieut. Ashman, who had become a Brigadier General, laughed and said he was glad Rightmyer had done as he confessed he did, and we shook hands all around.

"But I am getting ahead of my story. I lost no time in making my way to the Gazette office. I had nursed my wrath so long that it was boiling over I bounded up the two long flights of stairs a couple of steps at a time, burst into the business office and shouted:
"'I want to see Jared Hepburn! Fetch him out p. d. q.!'

"One of the three clerks, who was round-shouldered and wore eye-glasses, came languidly forward and handed me a prepared card, upon which he told me to state my business.

"I tried to restrain myself but did not quite succeed. I dashed off my name and in the space left me to make known my business I wrote:

"'I have a little account to settle with you. Don't keep me waiting.'

"A queer smile lit up the face of the sallow youth as he held the slip of paper close to his nose and read what I had written.

"'One minute,' he said, and turned and passed through a swinging door. It seemed to me he was gone a long time and when he came back the bit of paper was still in his hand.

"'Mr. Hepburn is not in."

"'I'll wait for him!' I said, dropping into one of the chairs placed outside the railing for callers. I managed to behave myself for half an hour, when my patience gave out. I stepped to the counter and called to the stoop-shouldered clerk:

"'How soon will that fellow be back?'

"He looked up at the broad-faced clock and drawled:

"'You mean Mr. Hepburn?'

"'Of course, whom do you suppose I mean?'

"'He went East this morning and may be back in the course of three or four months, but I cannot promise with certainty.'

"With an angry expletive I banged the door behind me and skittered down the stairs followed by the derisive laughter of the three young men.

"I did not doubt that Hepburn was at his desk all the time but dared not meet me. On the street I saw the folly of what I was trying to do, for he could easily keep out of my way as long as he chose to do so. I compressed my lips:

"'Sooner or later we shall meet and I'll have it out with him.'

"It was a true prophecy, but little did I dream of the circumstances that were to attend that meeting. I enlisted under General Nathaniel Lyon, who later, as you know, was killed at the battle of Wilson's Creek in the summer of 1861. I saw him shot and can never recall the incident without a pang of sorrow, for he was a good and brave man. The most important battle in which I took part was at Pea Ridge, Arkansas, in the following March. It was there that Brother Albert Pike, one of the most prominent Freemasons in the world, made the experiment of helping the Confederacy, in whose service he was acting as Brigadier-general, by enlisting two thousand Indians. Since they were members of the civilized tribes, Pike expected them to fight in a civilized fashion. Bearing this in mind, no criticism can be made upon his action.

"The experiment, however, was a failure. The noble red man isn't worth his weight in shoe strings when it comes to regular fighting. He must have an advantage or he won't fight at all. To them Confederates and Unionists looked alike, and if they had been given the chance, they would have relieved General Pike himself of his top knot.

"I speak from personal knowledge of this business, for I had an experience that remains vivid in my memory through life. I was with the troops that were being forced back and was fighting as best I could, when all at once I thought both of my legs had parted company with my body. I went down, tried desperately to get to my feet, but collapsed again and had to give up. I couldn't have walked a step to save my neck. In the pandemonium of discharging guns, shouts, curses and groans of men and the swirling combatants, I saw a huge painted warrior, with a bloody knife in band rush toward me. There could be no mistaking his purpose but I was helpless. I had fired my musket the instant before falling and my revolver was empty. I made a despairing effort to club my gun and struggle to one knee and then resigned myself to play the role of Jane McCrea.

"Just then the warrior with a shriek bounded in air and sprawled forward with a bullet through his bronzed skull. The soldier who had shot him stooped in front of me, face turned away, knocked the musket from my grasp, seized each hand and drew them over his shoulders. Then he straightened up, holding me Pick-a-pack' as the children say. Thus burdened, he ran like a deer, pushing his way through and ahead of the throng that was panic stricken.

"When the flight was stayed and a point reached where, with the other wounded, I could be given attention by the surgeons, my preserver tenderly lowered me to the ground. I had caught it in my right hip, which explains the lameness that will always cling to me.

"'How do you feel, Volney?' asked my preserver with a grin.

"Something in the voice struck me as familiar. I looked up and in the amazement of the moment forgot my pain.

"'Great heavens! Is it you, Jared Hepburn?'

"With the same broad grin he answered:

"'I heard you were looking for me to give me the drubbing I deserved for the low down trick I played on you. You are hardly in condition to do it now, so I shall have to wait until you recover.
'We have met: I'm the one that's licked: our account is square; shake."' Accordingly it was so done.