Chapter XXI: Controversy and Reminiscence

The affair at Break o'Day caused more excitement than the murder of Green, and was the most notable event which had happened in the vicinity that season. Representatives of the Jackson and Ann Arbor Press visited the hamlet, which in a few weeks acquired more reputation than it had hitherto gained in half a century. From Wingscheut a reporter obtained a sensational and valuable budget of news. His paper stated that the valiant German had been fated singularly often to meet the horse-thieves, that in the spring he had an encounter with them when they were escaping with a horse at the barn of a farmer named Spartus, that in the swamp near Break o'Day he maintained, unarmed and unaided, a combat with four of them, and that, had he been properly supported, the entire gang might have been captured.

The Jackson "Goad," a sheet published with the avowed purpose of prodding beyond endurance the party then in power, was especially active in making inquiries about Wrengell. It gave a highly colored account of the young man's sojourn at Ratke's. It dwelt minutely on his reticence respecting his former residence and occupation. It declared that a man unused to deeds of violence could never show such nerve and determination as he had manifested. It related how he had been detained by the order-loving citizens of Break o'Day, how he had broken loose from their restraint, knocking them right and left, how he had fearlessly charged upon and driven back a group of men at the dock, how he had sought an encounter with the boats and had done some phenomenally close shooting at Long range.

The major was wroth at the wrong done his hired man. He visited Rorus and talked to him with such sternness that the doctor did not as usual reply in a long series of co-ordinate terms capped by an anti-climax. He told him that he should hold him responsible for the injury which Wrengell received, and that if one of his men ever again was subjected to so much as an affront at the drug-store, he would administer a personal castigation to its proprietor. Directly after the appearance of the exaggerated article in the "Goad" Ratke called on the editor and demanded that retraction be made at once. The next week the story was modified; but after it was shorn of its absolute untruths, it still bore strong testimony against Wrengell.

The startling occurrences which agitated Ratke's neighbors did not keep him from the contemplation of his inventions. He had engaged an Oakville blacksmith to iron his Jerusalem wagon, which he decided to take in pieces and put on another vehicle for transportation. As the several parts were too heavy to be lifted easily by one man, he ordered Jake to assist him.

"I expect to create a sensation with my wagon in a few weeks, Jake," said the philosopher. "If it becomes famous, you can boast that you had a hand in preparing the first perfect model."

"Put this 'ere rattletrap in the hind end?" asked Jake, as he picked up a pair of wheel-posts, seemingly unconscious of his honorable function.

"Now, Jake," said the major, when he was ready to start to Oakville, "you may haul the wood which you and John sawed. I would like to be able to say that my inventions are used to a great extent on my farm. You may draw the wood with the Old Jerusalem. I intend to go to Jackson, and shall no doubt be gone until five o'clock."

Jake had a special aversion to the products of his employer's genius. With rebellion in his heart he hitched a team to the Old Jerusalem. He had driven but a few rods when the reach came unfastened and letting one end of the box fall to the ground, slid him speedily down the smooth bottom boards. Many minutes were occupied in readjusting the detached parts. Impatient of delay, he climbed on the wagon and spoke sharply to the team, but the tongue with the whiffletrees was jerked loose, and he was nearly pulled from his position by the lines. The last accident intensified his disgust, which he had before restrained with difficulty. He hitched the horses to a pair of trucks, and with this equipment hauled the wood in the forenoon some hours sooner than the major thought the work would be completed.

Ratke, who drove no farther than Oakville, returned to the farm at eleven o'clock. After caring for his team, he went to the field where Montcalm was at work.

"Trace," said the major, "that article which you sent to the Indianapolis "Standard" will greatly benefit me. You described my wagon in fine terms. You could never I have obtained its insertion if you had not once been a reporter for the paper. Such an account coming from a distance will make me and my inventions respected more at home. A great name, to be acquired in one's own neighborhood, must be imported. We may call this the endosmose of reputation."

In passing the barns Ratke noticed that the trucks were not in their accustomed place under a shed. His anger was kindled at sight of Jake, who was throwing off his last load of wood from another vehicle than the Old Jerusalem.

"Jake," said the displeased inventor, hurrying to the wood-pile, "I told you expressly to use the Old Jerusalem. Why did you take the trucks?"

"'Cause," replied Sheppard, "I wanted to git done some time to-day. I didn't like to fuss."

"I pay you for your time," returned Ratke. "When you do as I tell you, it is my lookout if your service is unprofitable. After this you use the tool I give you to work with."

"I don't like no such 'rangement as the Jerus'lem," rejoined Jake. "The ole thingumbob ain't good for nothin', an' never was."

"Jake," said the major, "it is not your place to question the wisdom of my plans. I am quite capable of directing my own affairs. Whenever you are unwilling to obey my instructions you may quit my employ."

"I guess I better quit now," said Jake. "We never had no words till to-day, an' we never want none."

"How much do I owe you?" inquired the major.

"You ain't paid me nothin' for two years," answered Sheppard, "an' there's some back that I earnt afore that."

"Is that so?" ejaculated the major, ashamed that he was unable to pay his discharged hired man. "I will get it for you as soon as I can, Jake."

"They gener'ly make reckonin' on payin' a man when they ship him," said Jake, "but you needn't be in no hurry about it. I'll let you know when I want it."

"Never mind throwing off the wood," said the major. "Come in to dinner. I will have Mark take care of the team."

"I'm much obliged," returned Jake. "I'll take care of 'em myself and finish up my job at the wood. I don't care for no dinner. I've et in that house for nine years, but 'tain't likely I'll ever eat there agin."

The major found visitors awaiting him in the house, Senator Mallard and Mrs. Baldwin, a sister of the statesman's deceased wife. Mallard's whole aspect was one of strength, both physical and mental. He was heavily built, though not corpulent. His face was smooth-shaven. His mouth was peculiarly expressive, indicating according to his mood, pleasure, approbation, sarcasm, disdain or wrath. His eyes were large and dark, and over them rose a brow which was broad and steep. While he was yet a young man, he had been prominent in state politics. Very soon after he had entered the United States Senate, he was ranked as a power in debate; and in a few years he was a recognized party leader. The idol of his friends, he was hated by many of his opponents whose opinions had been roughly handled by his aggressive speeches.

The greeting between the old men was cordial. They had many questions to ask, answers to return and experiences to relate. Since their last meeting one had increased in wealth and influence, one had virtually lost his property, each had been bereft of a wife, and each had grown gray, though he had retained his bodily vigor. Mrs. Grippin had to repeat her summons to dinner several times before it was responded to by the major and his guest. Ratke quite forgot everything except his friend and the scenes through which they had mutually passed. He talked with such abstraction, as he waited on the visitors, that he was unfitted for his duty. He placed potatoes on the plate intended for Mrs. Baldwin, one at about every four words. He had the dish well rounded when he was stopped by Mrs. Grippin, and the second interference of his sister alone saved the vegetables from being deluged with a profuse quantity of gravy. After dinner he and Mallard went back of the house, where they seated themselves on the wood-pile and talked for half the afternoon.

"Well, George," said the major, "I suppose you are confident of being re-elected in January."

"I am confident that I shall not again be re-elected," replied Mallard. "For nearly forty years, with scarcely an intermission I have been a public servant. Now I have a right to demand that my condition shall be changed from serfdom to independence."

"There are many who aspire to be tied with the bonds of national servitude," said the major. "The official has too much authority properly to be called a slave. He dictates to those whom you term his masters."

"Neither all nor the greater part of political power," returned Mallard, "is wielded by officials acting in an official capacity. Behind the officer is the will of the public, and behind that is the moulding influence of the Press and of those thinkers who study and expound matters of government. When the honest legislator finds that his conscience and popular sentiment are antagonistic, it is his duty to yield to the former; but he who habitually disregards the wishes of his constituents will soon destroy his political career."

"The responsibility to constituents," said Ratke, "is our great safeguard against usurpation. Were it not for that, the Republican party would be wholly unscrupulous in its disregard of precedent. The organization of which you are a leader has repeatedly violated the constitution and is advocating principles which, if carried out, will eventually lead to monarchy."

This provoked a spirited reply from Mallard, which in turn elicited a long answer from Ratke.

"James," called Mrs Grippin, "I'll have to have some wood now."

"All right, Maria," said the major. "There is no warrant in the constitution for such dictatorial laws as have been enacted. Quote, if you can, a single passage which justifies them."

"Very well," answered Mallard, "'Congress shall have power to make all laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into execution the foregoing powers, and all other powers vested by this constitution in the government of the United States, or in any department or officer thereof.' The specification in an instrument like the constitution of every power of a legislative body is quite impracticable, on account of the limited space in the instrument and the inability of its framers to tell with any certainty what exigencies may arise. This provision, had it not been inserted, would have to be assumed, for no government could long prosper without the ability to enact special laws."

"James," said Mrs. Grippin, who was kept by the presence of her visitors from an outburst of passion, "I'm waiting for that wood."

"You shall have it," answered Ratke, methodically picking up two sticks and advancing to the kitchen, "'To make all laws which shall be necessary and proper.' The Republican party ignores that word proper. It interprets the clause thus! 'To make such laws as best serve our partisan purposes,' An undue concentration of national authority," he continued, elevating his voice as he entered the kitchen, "is incompatible with good government. There should be a diffusion of power."

"Oh, dear! What a man!" exclaimed Mrs. Grippin. "Two sticks of wood to do a baking. Now you go right back and get me some wood."

"I can carry the larger load," said Mallard, laughing, as Ratke descended the back steps. "In our younger days we tried feats of strength, but I am not used to them now."

Each man took in a huge armful of wood, and Mrs. Grippin was satisfied both with the quality and quantity of the supply. The housekeeper took pains to find several tasks for her brother, that the discussion might be, broken off and he might not be worsted by Mallard, for, though she professed great dislike of his argumentative habits, she was secretly proud of his proficiency.

"George," said the major, when they had left the house, "a great career is sometimes late in its commencement, is it not?"

"Certainly," responded Mallard, "history furnishes many such instances."

"I believe," said Ratke, "that mine is about to begin. Did I tell you that I have turned a part of my attention to literature?"

"No, indeed," answered the senator with some surprise. "Which one of the muses has captivated you? Are you pondering over the massive tomes of Themis, are you under the spell of Polyhymnia's rhetoric, or are you following the voice of Calliope as she leads you over fields, through forests and across lakes, by ancient earth works and mounds, in which are the relics of extinct races. This locality, I think, would furnish to a string imagination material for a grand epic."

"Your guess is incorrect," said Ratke. "The title of the work which I am writing is 'Nature Concordia Philosophiae Animi.' In two volumes I am undertaking to prove that every phenomenon of nature has a corresponding one in the human mind or soul. Volume one treats of the relativity of physics and metaphysics, volume two, of the relation of physical laws to the will and higher emotions. The moral treatise I finished first, more than a year ago, in fact.

"In its preparation I was obliged to refer to no modern language except our own. English is rich in dissertations of the soul, but it furnishes little to the science of mental phenomena. In order to master the metaphysical part I was obliged to read a great deal in German. You know I am deficient in that language. I was helped in my reading by Manie and by Wrengell, the young fellow who made such a stir at Break o' Day."

That night the old men sat up until after twelve o' clock talking of experiences which stretched through fifty years, of college days, of books which were but half remembered, of sports long unpracticed, but still unforgotten, of acquaintances, some of whom were living, some dead, some honored, some disgraced. Their faces kindled with fervor of youth, their tones and gestures were animated; they were no longer old. They laughed at ludicrous circumstances with greater zest than when they witnessed the incidents. Unrealized ambitions, triumphs in the lyceum and in class-room, petty dissensions with their fellows, they reviewed with minuteness which they could not have used in describing later events. At every visit since their graduation, they had gone over these same experiences. Each recital had exceeded its predecessor in the pleasure which it had imparted and the earnestness with which it had been delivered. Only three days before, Mallard had made in Chicago a great speech, which was destined to be published in the papers throughout the entire country and to be repeated in substance on the platform by the minor satellites of his party. Now his dignity was laid aside, he was mirthful, even boyish, in his actions.

"George," said Ratke, "you remember that we confided our aspirations to each other. Mine have promised much, but yielded nothing. You have accomplished what you set out to accomplish. You must be a happy man."

"You judge too hastily," returned Mallard. "I have money, I have a fair reputation, but I have been unfortunate in my family affairs. I had a wife, a perfect companion, one of the best helpmeets whom God ever gave to man. She is dead. I had a son, gifted and promising. I kept him at school and gave him every advantage. He excelled in his studies. He had a special liking for rhetoric and argument. I meant to train him to be a statesman. I believed that he would exceed me in fame and power as Alexander exceeded Philip. But he took to drink. He died a disgraceful death, and the world knows my shame. I had a daughter who was as amiable as she was beautiful and accomplished. After the death of my wife and son, she was my idol. For a year she took music lessons at Detroit. When she came home, she told me about some attentions which had been paid her by a young foreigner, a German. I cautioned her to accept no more of his addresses until I had seen him. One day I was discussing the slavery question with some gentlemen in a hotel. You know before the war I was not in favor of immediate abolition, I was advocating the principles of the Republican party, when a young abolitionist commenced to talk in the most fanatical manner. I answered him, and he returned a torrent of abuse. Saying that I had no wish to discuss a question with one who substituted invective for argument, I left him. A few days after this occurrence I opened the door of my house and found in the parlor the young man who had treated me so rudely in the hotel. I bade him go and never enter my dwelling again. I asked Eliza if this impudent German was her suitor. She said he was. I told her to hold no communication with him, that if she did, she could no longer stay under the protection of my roof. A week after that they eloped. I made no attempt to follow them, but Eliza wrote me that they had gone to Detroit, and the newspapers, of course, tracked them up and put in every mouth the story of my new disgrace. I would have welcomed them back had it not been for my positive declaration that I would not do so. I heard nothing more of them until my sister-in-law found an item in a paper which stated that they had been killed two months previously in a railroad accident at Chicago. An enterprising reporter had had his attention riveted by the names of the victims, as they appeared in an old paper and had discovered that they were the same which had been borne by my son-in-law and daughter. The surmise of the reporter was correct. I took up the bodies, which are now in the Lansing cemetery. Never measure happiness by fame or apparent success."

The next morning the major to no avail urged his guests to prolong their visit. He did, however, extract a promise that Mallard would make a more extended stay the succeeding summer. As the senator and Mrs. Baldwin were at the gate taking leave of the Ratkes, Panicky came trudging up with his satchels.

"Good morning, Senator," was the peddler's familiar salutation. "How do you come on?"

"Very well," answered Mallard. "How is your health, Mr. Dabney?"

"Extra," said Panicky. "I am exposed enough to kill three common men, but I know what to take to keep me healthy. What's the reason I can't ride with you?"

"You can as well as not," replied Mallard, "if you can sit in the back of the buggy and let your feet hang behind. It is an uncomfortable way of riding, but it is the best I can provide for you, Mr. Dabney."

"James," said the senator, "we are old men. We can not tell when we shall next meet. It may be in another world."

"I hope you will come back again soon," said Ratke as they shook hands at parting. "If you do not of your own accord, I hope circumstances will bring you back."

"I wish I had such a team as that," remarked Panicky, when they were on their way. "I wouldn't be ramping through the country as I am now. I know what to give 'em to keep 'em in good trim."

"You sold me some panacea for them, Dabney," said Mallard with a smile. "I have at home all the medicine I can possibly use."

"You hauled 'em over the coals good at Chicago," said Panicky. "That speech ought to be in the house of every Republican, and every Democrat, for that matter. If If could hear you get off the same thing at Lansing, I'd give all there is in my satchels to some hospital. The Democratic papers make as big a fuss about that as the doctors do about the Great American Panacea."

"Why did you not stop at Ratke's?" inquired the senator. "I should think you would try to make a sale at every house."

"Oh, yes, I do," said Panicky, "but I was over this road just a little while ago. I'm going to turn off up hovered past Takum's. I don't have to peddle the panacea much. It sells itself."

Mallard's team was young and spirited. Constantly on the alert for objects by which they might be frightened, the horses lifted their heads high and drew the buggy along at a sharp pace. In the road near Takum's house were playing some children, some of whom were so nearly of a size that there was no perceptible difference in their ages. They were seated, or squatted, exactly in the track, and they moved aside reluctantly to make way for the travelers. One little girl, who used her apron as a receptacle of sand, pulled the garment over her face and suddenly rising, jerked it down, throwing a cloud of dust almost against the fractious team. The horses jumped forward, determined to flee from the unwonted spectacle. They were in a fair way to be quieted when the whole troop of Takum's dogs, large and small, came bounding toward them with yelps and barks. They still would have been manageable by Mallard's strong arm had not accident aided them in their insubordination. The left-line snapped in twain, the unbalanced right pulled them to one side, a front wheel struck a large stone, and the buggy was overturned.

Panicky was whirled over in a summersault, his satchels, bumping and jingling, rolled down an incline, where one of them flew open; his knee struck a small stump which was inconveniently near. He groaned dismally for a moment; then, raising himself, began to wail: "Oh, dear! Oh, gosh! Oh, Jerusha! Oh, I'm dying! I'm dying! I'm dying!"

Mrs. Baldwin was unhurt. She turned at once to the assistance of her brother-in-law, whose form was stretched at full length, motionless and apparently lifeless. She lifted his head, she rubbed his hands, she called his name. His closed eyes did not open, he gave no sign of realizing her attentions. The Ratke family and Brown ran as soon as possible to the scene of the accident, Nora in advance of them all. They carried the senseless statesman back to the house which he had thought he might not again visit.

Bitterly did Ratke regret his expressed wish that, with or against his will. Mallard would soon return. The stalwart frame, the hands he had pressed in farewell, the features, the changes of which he had watched in controversy and shared in the revival of memories had, indeed, come back; but tied in the bonds of inertness, they could not return his words or feelings. He found, however, that his friend was not dead. In the course of an hour he had the satisfaction of seeing him sit up and of hearing him announce that he felt better.

Daggett was in the tamaracks by the road cutting poles when his attention was drawn by the sound of rapidly approaching hoofs. Dropping his ax, he rushed to the highway just in time to catch the runaway team. With some trouble he allayed their excitement and drove them back toward Ratke's. The overturned buggy and the groaning peddler were sufficient to explain the catastrophe.

"Helloa! What's up?" he exclaimed, as he neared Panicky, who was seated on the ground, holding his knee and rocking back and forth.

"Oh, I'm about dead!" moaned Panicky. "I'm fixed! My leg's broke! I know it is! Oh, that's awful! You don't know how I suffer! Oh, I'm laid up for life! Oh, I won't do another tap of work for six months!"

"I am agent for the Great American Panacea," said Daggett, advancing with a broken bottle, which had been left with the fractured part upward, so that it still retained a portion of its contents. "This medicine is compounded of pine, hemlock, tamarack, cedar and spruce, besides sovereign roots and herbs known to the medical fraternity. It cures cuts, bruises, sprains, wounds, incisions and all injuries to the flesh. It is also a sovereign remedy for asthma, bronchitis, tonsilitis, laryngitis and all throat diseases, besides being an excellent tonic for consumption, dyspepsia, liver-complaint, rheumatism, malaria, fever and ague."

"If your knee was like mine, you wouldn't make fun of it," returned Panicky. "Oh, the whole top of my knee's smashed! Oh, I won't do another tap of work for two months!"

"Oh, yes, you will," assured Daggett, "I'll have you on your feet in no time, I know a fellow over in Ingham, a log rolled over his leg, smashed the whole business fine, bones, skin, flesh and all. The doctor, he come to amputate it, but I got him to try a bottle of the panacea. Well, the next week was the Fourth of July, and he took the first prize for running at Lansing, and just a little while afterward he beat the best mile record by three seconds. Have a bottle, Mister. It isn't panicky. Panacea, sir, panacea. Panicky is where they get in a battle, you know."

"I guess I will rub some of the panacea on my knee," said the peddler, taking the broken bottle with a grin. "That feels a good deal better," he acknowledged, as he arose after applying his medicine. "It beats all how quickly it helps it," he said, limping to his satchels and beginning to gather up the uninjured portion of his wares. "You'll know just what to do for lameness," he concluded, when with the strap over his shoulder connecting the two burdens, he was limping around the corner.

Before the arrival of doctor Rorus, for whom the major had sent. Mallard declared that he was able to recommence his journey. Ratke protested, but to no avail. He did, however, induce the senator to take the cars at Barton Junction and allow Daggett, whom he considered a fair horseman, to drive the team to Lansing.