CHAPTER XLI. – A ROSICRUCIAN
THE cattle king and his associates were shocked into silence by their discovery. That Major Buell Hampton, of all men in southwestern Kansas, should turn out to be the master spirit of the cattle thieves, was quite beyond their apprehension.
“Gentlemen,” said the major, “I realize that the situation is an embarrassing one. I certainly had no idea of meeting you, and I am equally certain that you had no expectation of finding in me the cattle thief of the Southwest. I, perhaps, could explain, but it is useless. I certainly cannot deny that for the past three years I have been responsible for the so-called cattle outrages in this part of the country.”
“Major Hampton,” said Captain Osborn, “I am so surprised and stunned at this revelation, together with your confession, that I am at a loss for words. I would have doubted myself as quickly as you.”
The major turned his blanched face toward the moon, and for a moment seemed lost in thought, as if he were communing with some invisible spirit. Finally he replied, “Captain Osborn, I know full well the humiliation of the moment, and the consequences of my capture. At this time I will say only that I have been ruled and guided by a higher power than is found in the laws of our country, – but, why discuss either the motive or the statutes? The former would be disbelieved, while the latter will be cheated by the Vigilantes. The doom of a cattle thief is so well known that it is useless to waste time in further discussion of a subject that is certainly no less distressing to you than it is embarrassing to me.”
“Father,” said Hugh, turning to Mr. Horton, “there must be some deep mystery here which we do not understand. There certainly is an explanation that will exonerate Major Hampton. Whatever we do, let us not act hastily. I cannot and will not believe that the major is in his right mind in making these damaging admissions.”
Major Hampton turned his massive head and looked kindly at Hugh. “My dear Stanton,” said he, “your trusting confidence in your friends is seemingly boundless. It is the nobility of your generous nature, which prompts you to attempt defense where no defense is possible. At present I have no apologies to offer, and but one request to make. I should sincerely appreciate your consideration if you would let me return to Meade immediately. I have a few business matters to adjust, and then I wish to bid my daughter adieu.”
At Captain Osborn’s request the major mounted his horse and permitted himself to be disarmed and thoroughly bound, hand and foot. A hasty consultation was held, and it was decided that Captain Osborn and Doctor Redfield should accompany the prisoner to Meade, while Mr. Horton and Hugh would turn the cattle back to the range camp, which was located a few miles to the west, after which they would, with all possible speed, hasten homeward.
Their plans were carried out satisfactorily, and a little after sunrise on the following morning the four horsemen with their prisoner dismounted in front of the grimy-looking county jail, and, soon after, Major Buell Hampton was securely lodged in prison. He had, with considerable emotion, requested Hugh, the last thing before the doors closed upon him, to keep the truth from Marie as long as possible, and to urge her to go at once to Horton’s Grove.
A wave of strangely varying sentiments swept over the country in an astonishingly short time, and before noon from two to three hundred strangers were on the streets of Meade. They were principally cattlemen and cowboys, who had suffered more or less by reason of cattle thieving. By three o’clock the streets were jammed with cattlemen and farmers. They seemed to come from all directions, and the feeling was undoubtedly growing more dangerous every moment.
The cattlemen were distinguishable by their broad sombreros, high-topped boots, and Mexican spurs; the farmers by the disappointment which each wore indelibly impressed on his pinched and haggard face. Many of them supported boutonnihres of barley in the lapels of their ragged coats, thus denoting their affiliation with the Barley Hullers. It was a strange mixture of frontiersmen, with conflicting hopes and fears.
To have captured the ringleader of the cattle thieves would within itself have startled the people almost into an universal vigilance committee, but to learn that the leader of these lawless depredations was none other than Major Buell Hampton, so beloved by the masses for his generous deeds of charity, was a great shock. Many refused to believe that he was guilty, and declared with great emphasis that no harm should come to Major Hampton, and that no hasty action should be taken.
There were others who expressed great sorrow at the major’s downfall, but nevertheless maintained that the evidence seemed absolute, while the major’s own confession admitted of no argument. There was a dangerous note of warning, that could not be misunderstood, in all these expressions of regret.
It was perhaps five o’clock in the afternoon when the Horton turnout came dashing up to the county jail, which was well guarded by the sheriff and a score of deputies. Hugh Stanton was driving. In the carriage was Marie, accompanied by Mrs. Horton and Ethel. The women were dressed in black and were heavily veiled. As they drove along, Marie’s stifled sobs were audible to those nearest the carriage.
The mob of people in the street gave way to the carriage, and a hushed silence fell over all. On alighting from the carriage, Marie was quickly admitted to her father’s presence by an officer. She remained in the jail nearly an hour, and, on coming out, Hugh met her at the door and assisted her into the carriage. He then drove rapidly away toward the Grove.
As night came on, the throng of people increased, and the sheriff swore in more deputies. Captain Osborn and Mr. Horton were talking in subdued tones in the captain’s private office at the bank.
“Things are looking ugly, and I fear mob violence,” said the captain.
“Yes,” said his companion, “but there are dozens for defense, where there is one for hanging. I had no idea of the extent of Hampton’s friends. His sympathizers are legion.”
“The result of his known and secret charities,” replied the captain. “His hobby has ever been to ‘clothe the naked and feed the hungry.’ I now understand where his seemingly limitless means came from. His mania has been to take from those who have Abundance and give to the destitute. His theory of a more equal distribution of wealth has been carried into practice.”
“What I most fear,” said Mr. Horton, “is that summary justice will be meted out to him, and that we snail find ourselves in a position where we shall be helpless to prevent a brutal murder. Is there not some way to quiet and disperse the people?”
Before Captain Osborn could reply, Hugh and Doctor Redfield admitted themselves with a private key. Hugh’s face was flushed with excitement. “Captain,” said he, “they are preparing to hang Major Hampton. Something must be done, and quickly, or there will be bloodshed.”
“But he has defenders among the people,” said Mr. Horton.
“Very true,” said Hugh, “and the result will be a riot, a pitched battle between the farmers and their sympathizers on the one side and the cattlemen and the cowboys on the other. A wholesale massacre will be the result. If the cowmen win, the major’s life is not worth a penny.”
Just then there came a loud knocking on the back door of the bank. Hugh hastened to the door and soon returned with a note which had been handed him by a deputy. It was from the major, and requested him to come immediately to the jail.
“Go at once, my son,” said Mr. Horton, “and I will assist the captain in trying to quiet the mob. I think, Captain, you had better make them a speech.”
Hugh hurried away to the jail, and was soon in the iron cage with the major. The latter greeted him warmly, and seemed so free from excitement that Hugh was astonished.
“Do you not know that they are planning to hang you?” asked Hugh, excitedly.
“My dear Stanton,” replied the major, smiling, “I am protected, fully and absolutely; therefore give yourself no uneasiness on my account. By the way, have you an extra cigar with you?”
Hugh handed him a cigar, one of the major’s favorite brand.
“Thank you,” said he, with his old-time politeness.
“I must admit, Major, that you inspire me with a sense of security such as I have not before experienced to-day. The Barley Hullers are out
en masse
. They are the protection to which you refer, I presume. What we all fear is a riot. The cowboys, as you know, are veritable devils when they get into a row, and one of them can usually whip half a dozen farmers in a rough-and-tumble shooting scrape.”
The major threw back his clustering iron-gray hair, and, with a smile, said: “Stanton, I have learned to love you, and therefore have concluded to tell you what no man living in America knows to-day.”
He paused a moment, and lighted his cigar.
“Well?” said Hugh, as if impatiently asking a question.
“They cannot harm me,” said he, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the howling mob, whose angry mutterings could be plainly heard. “But I will tell you what may happen.”
He spoke slowly and seemed to Hugh to change for the moment from the Major Hampton he had admired so much into a patriarch with gullied furrows on his brow. Hugh concluded that his light remarks of a few moments before had been assumed, and intended simply to cover the deep emotion that he really felt.
“Captain Osborn will make a speech,” the major continued, “and it will be an impassioned one, seasoned with the eloquence of rare power, inspired by his deep love of justice as well as of myself. The crowd will gradually disperse and wander across the bleak prairies to their miserable homes, furnished principally with poverty and hunger and deferred hopes. The Vigilantes, composed of cattlemen, will come back after midnight and probably select by ballot three of their number to kill me. I will be taken away from here, and will accompany the committee over into Dead Man’s Hollow, where already a grave is being dug and a rough board coffin prepared. The sheriff will be bought with the promise of reelection; he will discharge his deputies and turn me over to these would-be murderers.”
Hugh could hardly restrain himself while the major was thus slowly counting the steps leading up to his death. “But, Major, don’t you think – ” he began.
“I will tell you – not what I think, but what I know.” His voice sank almost to a whisper as he continued. “They cannot hurt me, my boy; no, they cannot kill me, for I am a Rosicrucian and my talisman is the supposedly lost philosopher’s stone. This rare and precious chemical element was crystallized about the middle of the seventeenth century, after almost fifty years of exhaustive research and scientific investigation by my brothers of the Rosy Cross. The philosopher’s stone, however, is but one of the many secrets known to our order. Our home is in the Himalayas, in unknown vaults and caves, far above the Thibetan table-lands.
“I am, in the broadest sense, a missionary sent out by our mystic order, to lighten the burdens of humanity. Suffering among the poor, whose eyes are blinded with scalding tears, appeals to me with a strong and resistless force. For centuries I have been battling for humanity. I have renounced the world and yielded all that was demanded of me for the cheering song of one small feathered thing, that, like a tiny bird, is always singing in my soul. It is called Hope, and it still sings, and its sweet warbling notes fill me with the abiding belief that the millennium is coming, when altruism will rule the world, and selfishness shall be reckoned as one of the lost attributes of man.
“Among the many secrets of our brotherhood is the knowledge of renewing youth, the prolonging of life. Our lives are renewed only that we may complete our work. We are reformists, and seek to benefit the world, to check the greed of wealth and the tyranny and despotism of bigotry and oppression. I have suffered so much at the hands of greed and avarice that my heart has become a touchstone of generosity to the poor.
“It is true that I have taken from the rich and given to the needy, and thereby gladdened the hearts of many; and, no matter what may follow, I have had my reward in the knowledge that I have exercised the courage of my convictions and put into practice not only theories, but truths that are approved by the living God. I have been controlled by an influence leagues beyond the power of man; an influence that lays its strong hand on every deed we do, on every act of our lives, and weaves its unerring results into an iron tissue of destiny. Listen! The mob is growing more tumultuous, – it is clamoring for my blood.
“Before you go, Stanton, I must entrust you with a message to Marie. She is not my daughter. It will almost break her heart, poor girl, when this is told her. In my wandering over the earth, I found a poor, famished woman, sick and without food or shelter, in a little town in eastern Kentucky. In her arms she held a sweet-faced cherub of a babe. I took her to a private hospital and supplied means for her comfort, and, for a time, hoped that she might recover. But the sands of life were too nearly ebbed away, and she finally realized that a few days at best were all that were left to her. I saw that I could lighten her sorrow and gladden her heart by assuring her that her babe would find in me a father, and you can testify as to how well I have kept that promise. I had the consolation of seeing the mother made happy before her spirit was called away. Her real name is Marie Redfield. Her genealogy is in my safe at the
Patriot
office, and you can learn from it that she is none other than Doctor Redfield’s cousin. Tell her, my boy, that no father’s heart was ever more tender toward a daughter than is mine toward her. Say to her that I shall see her before many days, but until I come I shall leave her in your care.” Turning, the major took up a large envelope with Hugh’s name upon it, and, continuing, he said: “I have appointed you my executor and representative. Full instructions and explanations will be found in this envelope. To this part of the world I shall be, from this night on, as one dead. Now go, my boy, and tell your father and Captain Osborn and Doctor Redfield to join you in taking an active part with the Vigilantes, who are clamoring for my death.”
CHAPTER XLII. – A NEW-MADE GRAVE
WHEN Hugh returned to the street, Captain Osborn was concluding one of the most eloquent speeches of his life. His appeal to the better nature of his hearers was having a noticeable effect. Indeed, the wild huzzas and shoutings, which the major had mistaken for the clamoring of the people for his heart’s blood, were, in reality, cheers of approval at Captain Osborn’s words. He admonished them to give up the idea of taking so-called justice into their hands, and to permit the law of the land to take its course. His hearers listened attentively, and, when he concluded his speech with a stirring and eloquent appeal to them, the comments on every side were those of approval. Soon after, the crowd began to disperse, and before midnight the streets were almost deserted.
Captain Osborn, with Doctor Redfield, Hugh, and his father, returned to the bank, where Hugh proceeded to give them a synopsis of his interview with the major. When he concluded his narrative, a profound silence followed.
Presently Captain Osborn said: “Stanton, what do you think of the major’s mental condition?”
“I believe him to be as mad as a March hare,” replied Hugh. “We all know that he is a great student, and, while his knowledge of occult science is certainly extensive, the idea of his claiming to be two or three centuries old, and of his possessing, as a talisman, the philosopher’s stone, is too ridiculous for thoughtful consideration.”
“There is one part of his story that is remarkably rational,” said Doctor Redfield. “A younger brother of my father married a beautiful woman of rare musical gifts and culture. For some reason his family opposed the marriage. My uncle located in eastern Kentucky, and several years went by without our receiving any word from them. Finally my father went there on a visit, and found that his brother had been dead for several years and that his wife had attempted to support herself and child, and had succeeded in doing so until her health became broken and she was reduced to direst poverty. She was too proud to ask for help, and finally died in a private hospital. The matron of the institution told a similar story to the one narrated by Major Hampton. All trace of the child was lost, and, although my father spent years in trying to ferret out some clue that might enable him to find her, his efforts were unavailing.” The doctor continued: “I agree with Hugh that Major Hampton is suffering with at least temporary aberration of the mind. It may not be permanent; and yet, on the other hand, his hallucination may be incurable.”
“Hark!” exclaimed Mr. Horton, “I think some one is calling my name.”
They listened in silence for a moment, and presently heard the cattle king’s name called by some one without.
“Remain here,” said Mr. Horton, “and I will see what is wanted.”
“Remember, father,” interposed Hugh, “that the major’s last request was that we join with the Vigilantes in case they are determined to mete out summary justice.”
“I believe,” said Captain Osborn, after Mr. Horton had gone, “that the major, with all his insane ideas, expects us to control any vigilance committee that might seek his life, and to ward off danger. I have always regarded him as being a man of excellent judgment. The humiliation of being discovered as a cattle thief has undoubtedly dethroned his reason. From his rambling talk to Hugh there can be no doubt of this.”
“I assure you, Captain,” replied Hugh, “that his observations were far from rambling in any respect. Neither was he in the least excited, but went on telling me his marvelous story as if he fully expected me to believe every word that he uttered.”
At this moment Mr. Horton called from the back door of the bank, requesting those within to join him at once. As they came out, he said: “They want to know if we desire to be present, or if we intend to oppose them. Remembering Hugh’s instructions, I told them that we secretly were with the Vigilantes; therefore, there is nothing left but to join them and see what we can do. They are meeting down at Foster’s livery barn.”
Nothing further was said as the four men walked down the street. They were joined by figures coming out of dark alleys and unexpected places, until fully a score of them were in line by the time the barn was reached. They filed into a dark room, whose doors were immediately barricaded. Then a gruff voice called out: “Every man prepare a mask for his face. No one must know his neighbor. A candle will be lighted as soon as your masks are on.”
It required no second invitation, for even the most desperate member of the Vigilantes is careful to conceal his identity from his associates in crime.
Presently the same gruff voice called out: “Are you ready?”
A chorus of affirmative answers came from every part of the room.
The candle was lighted, and, with the aid of a penknife, was fastened to one of the rough beams of the building. The fitful, sputtering tight threw weird shadows over the motley gathering of men, most of whom regarded cattle thieving as the greatest crime in the whole criminal calendar.
“Gentlemen,” said the gruff-voiced man, “I’ve been selected as chairman of this meeting. For three years past we have pledged ourselves to exterminate a cattle thief as soon as caught, without waiting for the slow process of law, which frequently cheats justice and permits guilty men to escape. We have prepared as many ballots as there are men present. Three of these ballots have blood-red crosses in the centre. Form in line and march past, while I hold the hat, and let each man draw therefrom one ballot. The three receiving the ballots with the red cross will remain here. All those drawing blanks will quietly and quickly repair to their homes.”
It was a strangely spectral sight to see more than a score of masked men filing past the speaker to draw from his hat the ratal ballots destined to decree the murderous judgment of the Vigilantes.
Soon the barricades were removed, and all but three of the crowd walked out into the street, but, instead of hastening to their homes, they quickly concealed themselves behind fences, sheds, and stables, waiting to see what would occur.
When all had gone excepting the three who had drawn the fatal ballots, the leader, addressing them, said: “Gentlemen, the Vigilantes have made a compact with the sheriff. You will please go to the jail and knock for admittance. You will have no trouble in securing possession of the prisoner. When he is once in your custody, follow the laws of the Vigilantes. The grave is prepared and the coffin is ready.” Presently three dark figures wended their way toward the county jail. Later four men were seen going from the jail toward Dead Man’s Hollow. No word was spoken until they reached a slight ridge just south of Meade, which separated the town from the spot selected for these executions. Here they paused in deep discussion. The scraggy clouds hurried through the heavens as if even they were fretful and restless, with strange forebodings of the dread event; while the moon, which was in its last quarter, seemed to be endeavoring to catch a glimpse of the tragedy about to be enacted, through broken rifts of the scurrying clouds.
Not only the score or more of men who had taken part in the counsels of the Vigilantes, but perhaps a hundred others were craning their necks from places of concealment, eagerly watching the figures on the crest of the hill. They saw the old major throw back his head in his own princely manner. Notwithstanding the distance, his words were borne distinctly to them on the night winds.
“My life,” said he, “is a charmed one. I am a member of the Mystic Brotherhood, and it is not for you to teach me the sting of death.” They disappeared from view, and a little later three gun-shots rang out on the night air, startling the whippoorwills and thrushes. A neighs boring rooster crowed hoarsely the hour. The watchers knew that the death penalty had been paid.
Captain Osborn and his three friends returned to the bank, but they were silent in their sorrow. In the first place, the major’s friends had not expected the treachery of the sheriff, and they felt sure, because of that official’s promise to Captain Osborn, that it would be impossible for the Vigilantes to secure the prisoner. From the standpoint of the cattlemen Major Hampton had certainly merited death, but it seemed so terrible, so unexpected, so shocking, that no one of the four could reconcile himself to the belief that so monstrous a tragedy had really been enacted.
“Have you opened the letter yet?” inquired the captain.
“No,” replied Hugh, “perhaps we might as well do it now as later.”
The four men gathered around the table, and Hugh broke the seal. The letter read as follows:
“My dear Stanton: – Enclosed herewith I hand you my last will and testament, bequeathing all my possessions to my beloved daughter, Marie Redfield Hampton. I also enclose the combination of my safe.
“You will find, in looking over my private books, an accurate statement of all moneys received from the sale of stolen cattle. You will also find a report of distributions which I have made of the money. The credit balance is less than one thousand dollars; all but this has been given to the poor and needy.
“Instead of experiencing any sentiment of regret, I find deep consolation in thinking of the misery that I have lessened and the hearts that I have gladdened. My remembrance of the great Southwest will ever be a pleasant one. The friendship of yourself, your father, and Captain Osborn, and your many kindnesses, are things engraven on my memory that will bear a golden harvest of responding love for mankind, and greater deeds of charity from my hands, in the years that are to come. The unwritten law of humanity contains stronger covenants than may be found on the statute books of all the nations of the earth.
“It takes a high-souled man to be as ‘brave as a Caesar and wise as a Plato’ when confronted with the trying ordeal of friendship on the one hand and humanity on the other.
“As one of the Rosicrucians – a member of the Brotherhood of the Highest Himalayas – whose only mission on earth is to reform and equalize, to lift up the lowly, to change tears of adversity into smiles of gladness, to oppose plutocracy and greed, to abolish bigotry and selfishness, and to sow seeds of altruistic virtue, I cannot, in taking a farewell retrospective view, discover a single opportunity that I have not endeavored to improve.
“Tell your father that Kinneman and Spencer were but helpers – paid servants to do my bidding – and therefore they should not merit his anger.
“My pen drags a little as I write, for I am thinking of my daughter. I call her mine, although no common blood flows in our veins, for my love of her is very great. Indeed, it is the one tie that is hardest for me to sever. I am sure at your request that both Mrs. Horton and Ethel will comfort her and give her a home. Tell her that it will not be long until we are reunited. The end of our sojourn in the Southwest will be but the beginning of other happy days in a new country where I shall take up my abode.
“Tell her for me, as Charles the Ninth said to the queen mother, – ’Wait. All human wisdom is in this single word, – wait. The greatest, strongest, most skilled is he who knows how to wait, and wait patiently.’ So say I to her, – wait.
“Tell her also that, notwithstanding I am rich with the accumulated wisdom of the centuries, yet, nevertheless, I am subject to the laws of the country in which I may be living, and I can but bow to the frenzy of the mob, and ask that they may be forgiven for they know not what they do. I came to emancipate, and now they seek my life. I came to alleviate their sufferings, and now they would bite the hand that has fed them.
“Impress upon her that no condition can arise in this crisis that is not fully provided for, and, instead of being the ‘plaything of chance,’ I am a Rosicrucian, and am not subject to that mysterious force which compels the children of men to obey its mandates.
“The hope of the age is progress, and ‘the noble few will lose nothing when it overtakes them.’
“You must not suppose, because I enclose my will herewith, that my mission on earth is finished; but in the Great Southwest I shall from this night on be regarded as legally dead. My protection is nothing less than the invincible philosopher’s stone, a talisman which will protect me far more securely than a coat of mail.
“Let me, in conclusion, admonish you to devo