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Mister Chairman, I move for a committee of three, yourself to be one, to ride down and ask the Missourians to join on again, all under Major Banion." "I'll have to second that," said a voice. Price saw a dozen nods. "You've heard it, men," said he. "All in favor rise up." They stood, with not many exceptions rough-clad, hard-headed, hard-handed men of the nation's vanguard.
She discovered the rough-clad, almost uncouth figure of Bat. She noted his moving jaws as he chewed vigorously. She saw that a short stubble of beard was growing on a normally clean-shaven face, and that the man's clothing might have been the clothing of any labourer. But the iron cast of his face left her with sudden qualms. It was so hard.
The recreation room was packed to suffocation, packed from end to end with a human freight. The benches were crowded, and the tables groaned under the weight of as many rough-clad creatures as could crowd themselves thereon.
She had abandoned her dance and was standing very still, obviously interested in the rough-clad, booted figure which had seemed so abruptly to materialize from the forest land. Ben Gaynor had seen him through a window and met him at the door. Their hands met in the way of old friendship, gripping hard.
One of my associates in this locality, for two or three months, was a man who had had a university education; but now for eighteen years he had decayed there by inches, a bearded, rough-clad, clay-stained miner, and at times, among his sighings and soliloquizings, he unconsciously interjected vaguely remembered Latin and Greek sentences dead and musty tongues, meet vehicles for the thoughts of one whose dreams were all of the past, whose life was a failure; a tired man, burdened with the present, and indifferent to the future; a man without ties, hopes, interests, waiting for rest and the end.
It is not likely that the fine young officer noticed the rough-clad ranger; but they were to know more of each other at a future time. Three weeks after that the war was at an end. The Indians had been beaten in a battle, and Black Hawk had been taken prisoner. But Abraham Lincoln had not been in any fight. He had not seen any Indians, except peaceable ones.
He went into an outer room where perhaps a dozen rough-clad men were gathered about a figure of medium height, compactly built, with a broad head, shifting blue eyes and a dynamic, nervous manner. "Don't forget," he pounded fist on palm for emphasis, "on August 18 we organize the party. Johnny Day will be the prisident. We'll make thim bloody plutocrats take notice."
But these demands were sneered at. The idea of the natural equality in rights of all men, the idea of the personal worth of every man, the idea that rough-clad workers have prerogatives which can be whipped out by no smooth-clad idlers, these ideas were as far beyond serf-owners of those days as they are beyond slave-owners of these days. Nothing was done.
Breakfast was nearly over in the hotel, and, to judge by the number of saddle-horses at the tie-post, the people of Beacon Crossing were very much astir. Presently the verandah began to fill with hard-faced, rough-clad men. And most of them as they came were filling their pipes, which suggested that they had just eaten. Nevil Steyne was one of the earliest to emerge from the breakfast room.
Daisy had struggled up from her knees to a sitting posture, putting her hair, curled into a thousand shining rings, away from her flushed face. "Have you been scolding Daisy again, Septima?" he asked, angrily, taking the panting little damsel from the floor and seating her upon his knee, and drawing her curly head down to his rough-clad shoulder, and holding it there with his toil-hardened hand.
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