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They came on a starlit night, the deputation of silent, fearful men, sacrificing paltry hours
of sleep. Their entrance, preceded by unexpected noises beyond the door which caused
the inhabitants to start was an embarrassed shuffling of feet. Their eyes were downcast.
They sat in Carl's cottage an none of them knew where to begin. 'Friends, will you take some refreshment?' Hot drinks were served in steaming mugs by the flitting woman who was Carl's own. 'What do you want?' Uncertain eyes met without success. Finally, Ursus said, 'These men wanted to speak with you, Carl, but that doesn't seem to be the case now. Funny, 'cause I know how they got plenty on their minds.' At last Willis said, 'Katz is dead.' 'He was a good fella,' said another. 'That were O'Grady done that,' said a third. 'And that bastard, Jamie.' 'Why are you telling me all this?' asked Carl. 'We want your help, Carl,' said Willis. 'It ain't right.' In the firelight Carl appeared old. He seemed to be deliberating if he should say anything at all. Finally he said, addressing himself to Ursus. 'These are good men, they shouldn't be ashamed, though that's how they appear to me. They stand for things that are right and proper, things that are honest in the world. They work and work well. They have given all they had a received so little in return. For most, not even the right to be with their women. Now they are afraid, and why?' Ursus stared uncertainly at Carl. The words were spoken at him yet they seemed to go beyond; beyond the walls, beyond the earth itself. Ursus shivered and felt as if there were Demons all about them. 'They are afraid of death,' continued Carl. 'Not death because they failed to do their honest work or through transgression on the Sheriff's hanging tree; not nature's death because the harvest failed or cold snow or icy flood caught them out of doors; not the death of an animal in sickness or old age. No! The deaths they fear are of damp, unnatural blackness, of falling rocks and evil waters, of cutting whips and nails and guns. These are the deaths of exploitation, and who can blame them? There was a murmur of agreement. Half eyes met in the circle. There was no reply to make. 'These men need help, 'said Carl. 'If they wish it I will help them. I will go and see O'Grady. I knew O'Grady once, a few weeks ago. He was my friend, a reasonable man.' 'O'Grady is a bastard!' came the call. 'No! O'Grady was a reasonable man, once. With persuasion he can be so again. But he must be persuaded.' 'Right,' said one. 'That man must be persuaded.' But others shook their heads. 'He ain't got no sense,' said Willis. 'He don't need none,' said a third. 'Ursus,' said Carl. 'I can show these men how to persuade O'Grady if he won't see reason. But first they must agree to accept me as their leader and do as I command.' 'We'll do that!' they said eagerly. 'We will, we're not afraid.' The men departed, shuffling through the door. Their doubtful eyes were still downcast but, as they passed they raised them briefly into the eyes of dumb Ruth and saw her face with its gentle smile, no longer seeking approval, as she handed each a boiled sweet. |
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