12
The University Courier.
LITERARY.
OPPORTUNITY.
Maker of human destiny am I.
Fame, love and fortune on my footsteps wait.
Cities and fields I walk. I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and passing by
Hovel and mart and palace; soon or late
I knock unbidden at every gate.
If sleeping, wake; if feasting, rise before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death. But those who doubt or hesitate,
Condemned to failure, penury and woe,
Seek me in vain and uselessly implore
I answer not, and I return no more.
—Jno. J. Ingalls.
AN ANSWER.
"How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey every day From every open flower." How doth he do it? why that's plain. The little bee he humps himself, He digs with all his might. And that's the reason, you see, The bee is out of sight.
A KANSAS EPISODE.
We occupied the same seat in a car on the Southern Kansas going out of Kansas City. My companion was an elderly man, strong and rugged, well dressed, and was apparently a commercial traveler.
The train stopped at Zarah, a little way station about fifteen miles from Kansas City. My companion leaned over and gazed long and intent westward, across the country. "Do you see that clump of trees on the hillside to the southwest?" he asked. "Well, I planted those trees more than thirty years ago. My, how they have grown!" As the train moved off he continued: "I had a claim here then and lived in a little cabin at the place where the trees now stand. I came from an eastern state simply for love of change and possibly of adventure, and when I got here I decided to take a claim."
"I suppose you had a rather hard time then," I said. "We, the younger generation, know little of real hardship, such as the early settlers experienced."
"Yes, I suppose most people nowadays would say we only half lived. Communication with the East was difficult, so we were contented if we got a few necessaries. Then the Indians on the reservation near us were troublesome, especially when drunk; and besides it was the time of the border troubles. Quarrels between the two parties were frequent, and murder was oftentimes the result. Every man had to take care of himself. But the class of men who came to Kansas had the pure stuff in them. They were fearless, brave and self-reliant."
"I suppose you knew some odd characters among these early settlers; such men are usually found along the border."
"Oh yes, every man was a character, and some of them pretty hard ones, too," he added with a laugh. "But I had one neighbor who made quite a name for himself afterwards. His name was James B. Hickok. He afterwards was called 'Wild Bill.' I believe he received the name from the wild and desperate manner in which he defended himself against a gang of horse thieves who tried to take his horses from him. People nowadays doubt his existence. But he was a real personage and every inch a man. He settled a claim next to mine and we soon became well acquainted. He was then a young man about twenty-five, tall, slender, athletic, with a strong, determined face, and the most flashing black eyes I ever saw in a man's head. I do not wonder that he became the most noted shot in the West, and for that reason the terror of bushwackers, and of the cow-boys and gamblers of Caldwell and Abilene.
"But Wild Bill, or 'Jim' Hickok as we called him, was at this time an ordinary country fellow intent on 'proving up' his claim and
settling down in life. But other things were in store for Wild Bill than a peaceful farmer's life.
"Down at the Shawnee Mission, six or eight miles from my claim, was a trading post. The trader's name was Rogers. He lived in the back part of the store with his wife and daughter Millie. Millie was a pretty blonde, and had most engaging manners. Women were scarce in this country then and Millie was much sought after by the young settlers. Jim Hickok was among her suitors, and before long it was evident that he was the chosen one. He began to build a cabin, and it was generally understood that he and Millie were to be married the coming spring."
"Among Millie's suitors was a young Missourian by the name of Ellwood, a big, brawny, coarse fellow, whose advances were indignantly repelled by the girl. Ellwood soon learned that Wild Bill was the favored suitor. He swore to be revenged. Wild Bill was warned, but he laughed at the threat.
"One night shortly after Wild Bill had completed his house, Ellwood and a number of companions came into the trader's store. Millie was attending the store. The men were partly drunk and very talkative. From snatches of their conversation she learned they intended to make an attack on Wild Bill that night, burn his home and murder him, and thus dispose of another 'abolitionist.' The men rode away in the darkness. What was to be done? Her lover must be warned of his danger. Her father was away at Kansas City. Quickly calling her mother she explained the situation. Then, hardly waiting to hear the mother's answer, she ran to the stable, saddled and bridled one of her father's horses, mounted it and sped away across the prairie towards Wild Bill's cabin eight miles away.
"Ellwood and his companions had not ridden very rapidly, so that she soon came within hearing distance. How to pass them and not be discovered was the question. Suddenly she remembered that the road divided at Mill creek, there being an upper and a lower ford. She could pass them there. Riding up as close as she dared, she saw them take the road for the upper ford. As soon as they were out of hearing she put her horse at full speed for the lower crossing. She crossed the creek and hurried on. Soon she was at the meeting of the roads again. She stopped and listened. Yes she had gotten ahead; she could hear their loud voices and the tramp of the horses behind her. Her horse was not much exhausted and the road now lay across the open prairie. Taking a long swinging gallop she soon covered the remaining distance. 'Jim' was at home. I suppose no person was ever more astonished than he when he saw Millie. She explained matters to him. 'Jim' swore he would stay and fight them. Millie implored him for her sake to leave. He yielded to her entreaties. They mounted their horses and by a circuitous route rode back to the Mission. Ellwood and his crowd burned Jim's house and stable and drove away or killed his stock.
"I seldom saw Jim after that. He lost his desire of settling down in life. The border troubles were now on and he connected himself with the anti-slavery party and distinguished himself for daring and bravery in the exciting events of that time. After the war I heard of him at times, but he never came back to Shawnee. He was always seeking adventure and excitement. At last I heard of his death at Deadwood, Dakota."
"And Millie?" I asked.
"Millie was true if ever a woman was. Her father was killed during the war and the store burned. Millie took upon herself the support of her mother, and waited for "Jim;" but he never came. At last she heard of his death. Then she packed up their few belongings and moved away.
"For a long time I did not know where they were. But last spring I was in a town in northern Texas, and there I met Millie and her now aged mother. Millie had prospered in the world. She had started a boarding house, then a hotel, and is now well to do. She is the same cheery soul as when she made that ride to save Jim. But she never married. She still believes Jim true, and has a firm faith that had he lived he would have come to her."
"Olathe!" yelled the brakeman. My destination was reached, and I reluctantly bid my new acquaintance adieu.