Moultrie De Kalb. A romance of a college rebellion, and army and mercantile life on the Indian border

Contents

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I. — Trouble — Ominous — Impending . 9

II. — The Greek-Letter Clans on the

Chapter I. Trouble — Ominous— Impending

In the branches — seemingly — of the honored, ancient elm in front of the spacious, student’s boarding house, on University street, was an odd place for an owl to perch and hoot dismally.

And the musical after “Taps ’’notes of a whippoorwill issuing from the open window of a second floor front, as if in response, was also strange. Yet to those not of the Achates clan of the Cedar Crest College secret societies, those unusual midnight sounds seemed to be the veritable utterances of the birds named.

In the big, rambling building, window after window was raised, some noisily, some noiselessly, and soft signal whistles issued from each. Then every sash was lowered, lights extinguished, and in a few minutes Fatty Forbush, waiting at the base of the big elm, was joined by a dozen fellow students, arrayed in grotesque and differing dominoes and disguises.

One, who was at once received as a person of authority, wore a woman’s dress skirt, a shawl, sun-bonnet, and a red and black pasteboard false face of an ass with a goat's beard.

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A deep bass voice, and a formidable hickory club with a carved owl’s head for a handle, might have proclaimed her a witch, or an amazon.

In obedience to a command, in Latin, from this person, three of the keenest eyed students took post. One went down, one up, and the third across the street, and stationed themselves, closely concealed under cover, as sentinels.

A low cat-call announced no eavesdroppers nor spies in windows nor on the street.

Then the “ Committee of the Conclave,” those under the big elm, conferred in low, confidential tones.

The old negress who passed, on the way from her sick mistress to the doctor, rushed on at first and then paused, half paralyzed.

Later on she said to the old physician :

“ Fore de Lawd, doctor, I seed em ! Dey is bugglars, tramps and furriners suah ! Go koch em !”

But the good old doctor was a college trustee, suspected only students’ pranks, and was too tired and sleepy to venture out and investigate.

“ What did you hear them say ?” he asked.

“ I was so skeered I stopt a leetle fust, and I seed dey was in a ring roun ‘ de big elm, shakin’ hands all aroun’. An’ de fat one he say — berry solemcholy like — he say ‘ Ebery one be a Argus , watch wid eyes front, rear, bof side and top ob his head ! Watch Quantil like a hawk, and perteck Apollo Moultrie ! Be sure nuf, an very sure each a ginuine Briareus , and pertect him with yer hundred arms !’

“ And den he say : ‘ Make no mistake ! Koch no

one yer doant want ! Be alert ; walk de wise path ! de virgin saphead.’ ”

Fatty had said “ walk in the wise path, via sapientioB ” (the way of wisdom).

So tense had been the attention of Dinah these words had burned themselves into her memory. For reasons, later on explained, the excited students

TROUBLE — OMINOUS — IMPENDING.

II wefe calling the professors “ Asses ” and “ traitors ’’ — and worse.

These denunciations were hot-headed, unthinking and— well, it was all a mistake, of course ; a most lamentable mistake, for which each and every “ classic ” and “ scientific,” plodding his way through the curriculum of dear old Cedar-Crest, deeply deplored, later on, as subsequent disclosures will amply testify.

Nevertheless they continued to be uttered — the denunciations — and were multiplied, and grew deeper, more open and defiant and louder.

“ Detur Digniori ” (Let it be given the more worthy), the cherished school motto, was no longer proudly quoted.

And some unknown recalcitrant, or some secret society committee or appointee, through malice or mischief, had turned inward to the wall the famous college banner, hung conspicuously over the chapel pulpit, upon which was emblazoned that motto, in letters of gold upon a field of celestial blue spangled with crystal stars.

The deplorable immediate, and ultimate beneficial results that fructified from all this are described further on.

Professor Cheval was thirty-five years old, just six feet tall and, although slender, muscular. His long limbs and arms would not suggest that fact save to a close, expert observer. He was, daily, at the college gymnasium, enthusing the students and, seemingly, enlisting his whole heart into the feats and exercises, but, really, doing more than anyone else in regulating and moderating the, ofttimes, too violent exertions of super-ambitious boys for athletic fame.

He was closely observant of everything, while, to the casual looker-on he was, in semblance, indifferent and, merely “a boy himself again,” heartily enjoying and applauding the sports and contests, the skill and endurance and conquests he witnessed. Plain in attire, though with tailor-cut and well-fitting

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clothes, there was an indefinable something about him, that made you turn, and look a second time, whenever he passed you by.

His eyes were deep set, and somewhat close together. But this would escape you during his tranquil moods, for when excited, their near juxtaposition seemed to emphasize that concentrated gaze, that never dropped nor wavered until it had subdued all opposition.

His hair was somewhat long, not of the frontier cowboy, nor the Mississippi planter length, however, and his Napoleonic moustache and long, gracefully tapering beard, lent him a military appearance which was dissipated, however, whenever, in his magnetic manner, he pointed an admonition with a “ pat ” proverb or an “ ungrammatic” with — what our learned British cousins call — “ a beastly Latin solecism. n

At such times he revealed himself as a “ man of letters,” and a scholar, as much born to rule in his own realm, as military proficients in generalship are in theirs.

His heart and soul and every endeavor was enlisted in the problem, “ how to perfect a sound mind in a sound body.” And to evolve the solution was the paramount ambition of his life.

While he encouraged physical prowess, he couched his praise thereof in phrases that incited to love for scholastic eminence, prompted to more studious habits in study hours, and larger general, intellectual effort.

He especially believed more in education than he did in instruction.

His face was remarkably mobile. Swift as a flash it would change, with kaleidoscopic vividness, from a courtly to a ludicrous, comical, angry or sneering, or even a bland, vacant or inquiring expression. He was a “ natural born ” actor and elocutionist, and he was professor of elocution at Cedar- Crest College. When a boy his health was undermined by hard study. His family physician, a kind-hearted, brusque graduate of the war in his profession, and who loved him dearly, had thoroughly diagnosed his case and, in loud-mouthed, peremptory, practical directions, had commanded him to close his books, pack up and get ready to rough it on the plains, with an overland ox-train.

No wonder young Cheval was dismayed at this order. It was a change, indeed, from his quiet, student life, amid the luxuries of a cosy, well appointed home, to that of a “ Bull-whacker ” or, at least, to that in which his immediate associates would be Bull-whackers. To leave, for an indefinite period, his loved authors, his chosen volumes in his father’s ample library, the historic pictures and classical statuary and busts, the antique vases and urns and his beloved mother, with her motley but choice array of bric-a-brac and old china, to become the everyday companion of bellowing bulls, huge freight wagons, and boisterous, profane teamsters seemed too awful for anything. However, go he must.

He had implicit faith in his kind but gruff old physician and implicitly he would obey him. So his little medicine chest was prepared, all other necessities provided, and he started, sleeping, on his tour, for weeks on the ground, in the open air, through all kinds of clement and inclement weather, sometimes with the shelter of a tent and, much of the time without any shelter whatever, exposed, now to heat, dust and blistering sunshine, and anon to rain, mud and bitter cold. And all this, instead of killing him, proved the salvation of his health.

Buffalo, at this period, peopled the, seemingly, boundless plains, immense seas of shoreless grass, in countless herds, east of the “ Rockies.” They were at once, food, shelter, raiment and illuminating material for the nomadic Indians, whose home was always on their trail.

Freight, not sent by sea all the way around Cape Horn on vessels and steamships, reached the Pacific

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H

slope, the famed land of gigantic trees, gold-veined earth and luscious, brobdignagian-sized fruit, by transit in huge “ bull trains/’ that stretched for miles, in long, thread-like lines, en route to their destination.

These ponderous wagons loomed up like immense wheeled arks on the treeless expanse of grass, and were styled “ Prairie Schooners.” Each had a capacity of several tons and, when loaded, required from twenty to forty yoke of oxen to draw it.

A trip across the continent, in those days, took weeks by the fastest stage transportation, and months by means of these wagon trains.

On going into camp the wagons were usually corralled, the enclosure being spheroid shaped for protection against Indians. And inside the enclosure thus formed, the teamsters and other trainmen usually bivouacked.

Herders, in reliefs, were told off, much like military guards are mounted, and the cattle, under their charge, were turned loose on the grass to graze.

This was the kind of life led by Cheval for six months. And from it he returned home, bronzed, brawny, and cured of his pulmonary and bronchial disorder.

*****

Professor Cheval was closeted with Rev. Dr. Waring, the President of Cedar-Crest College. They were discussing charges lodged by Si Quantrell against certain, so-called, riotous students. Quantrell headed a delegation of his henchmen from among the citizens of Cedar-Crest. Moultrie De Kalb, a student, was cited as the principal offender. There had long existed a feud between Moultrie’s father and Quantrell, and the latter had mustered his present following, hoping, by such formidable showing, to compel an investigation by the college authorities and the dismissal of Moultrie. Securing that result he proposed thereafter to have the young man indicted as a criminal.

The culprit was guilty, not of malicious trespass, which was the charge made by Quantrell, but of leadership in a practical joke that had involved considerable damage to property in the village. Unfortunately, he had incurred the hearty dislike of the Professor of Classics — a florid, stoutish man of full habit, irritable, exacting and choleric.

His dislike, however, for young Moultrie, was not openly manifest, but slumbered like a smouldering fire, ready to break forth into a fierce blaze on the appearance of the first provocative breeze, for Moultrie, knowing the general unpopularity of the professor with the students, was the only one among them who, without any real malice, had the audacity to go too far in caricaturing him.

And yet the professor was really a truly good man, and amiable enough when not unduly provoked. He was extremely sensitive to ridicule, morbidly so. And although generally ready to forgive an open, unjust attack, he never would condone a sally of wit that exposed him to laughter. And the ill-guarded, unthinking, incisive and transparent assaults by Moultrie, in that line, he well knew of. Hence his implacable hostility toward him. Moultrie, not having confined his tongue, was liable to have his tongue confine himself.

To make matters worse, Moultrie was totally ignorant of this hostility, while, on the other hand, he enjoyed vastly the laughter and numerous comments, inside the college halls and in town, elicited by his ridiculous sallies in the class-room, and, of late, had grown worse than ever.

Utterly overlooking the increased critical manner and now illy-suppressed rage of the professor, waiting to pounce savagely on him as soon as, in his judgment, he could make the offense of sufficient gravity to demand, before the Faculty, his expulsion.

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MOULTRIE DE KALB.

Only the Tuesday before, Moultrie had greatly exasperated him.

They were parsing a Latin sentence and the adjective “ felix ” fell to the young culprit.

“Felix is a noun,” he hurriedly said, “proper, because the name of a person, masculine gender, singular number, and ”

“Come, come, come!” broke in the professor angrily, doubly incensed at detecting a mischievous wink from Moultrie to another merry-visaged classmate.

Quick as thought the young man responded.

‘ Cum ’ is a verb, sir, but I don’t see it ! “ Please

have the sentence read, I have lost it and cannot give the connection.”

The scene that followed, first the giggle and then the roar of the class, the exasperation of the professor and the pretended mystification of the offender — in the set phrase of all portrayers of indescribable things, “ can be better imagined than described.”

“ I cannot believe anyone else sees it !” exclaimed the professor, hotly. “ The English come is not the Latin cum ! You have made a mistake, sir !”

“ Excuse me ; so I have. As big a mistake as that mantel manufacturer made about your heating apparatus.”

“ How’s that, sir? What has that to do with your stupid error ?”

“ Why he made a grate mistake and I also made a great one.”

Amid a roar of laughter the professor shouted,

“ Class is dismissed !”

Of course a report of the occurrence, magnified and distorted, spread, like wild-fire, thoughout the college halls and from there to the town. And several persons, some only mischievously inclined, and others malevolently, because they hated the professor, simply because he was a learned gentleman , concocted further annoyance for him.

From behind fences, and from unseen crannies and from other vantage points, while homeward bound, he was yelled at : “ Hello, Felix /” Hi thar, come, come, come ! All uttered in his own peculiar, sing-song tone.

Some of the more brazen and cowardly — principally of the alley-bred breed, who despised “ college men an larnin ,” openly reiterated these covert insults, directly to his face. And he could not, as openly, resent, save at the risk of jeers from his tormentors — so far beneath him socially — nor could he risk it out of self-respect.

It was insulting, unbearable. And he felt it, and showed he felt it. Had Schuyler Cheval been in his shoes he would have sailed serenely through the whole business, indifferent to or heartily enjoying it. And thus would have made their vulgar shafts harmless or “ turned the laugh on the teasing rabble.”

Happily, at this juncture, a tall, stalwart man, clad in Catholic clericals, grasped the nervous, bewildered professor by the hand. His smile and greeting were charming, enthusing, assuring, strengthening.

He had at once the face, mien and stature of a Leo and the manner of a lamb. He bore the air of a man born to win, either by command, persuasion or supplication, yet born to win. And benevolence beamed from every feature of his face and pose.

The professor and he had been boyhood playmates. And each, in his own drift, had watched and loved and respected the other.

The priest had carried a musket during the war, from 1861 to 1865, and afterward studied for and accepted orders.

“ Let us walk together, I am going to the post-office,” he said to the professor.

And arm in arm they proceeded in that direction.

There was no more jeering at the little professor after that. Whether it ceased through respect for the tall, commanding, soldierly looking-priest, or for what cause, did not clearly appear, but it ceased.

i8

MOULTRIE DE KALB.

Both men were ordained clergymen, for the professor was a Methodist preacher.

And this opportune meeting cemented forever the old, boyhood friendship that had found birth years agone. And many happy hours ensued during which, in the cosy little library of the professor, the two mildly reveled in early reminiscences and discussions of Sanscrit, Greek and Latin literature. And shortly after this, both professor and priest took up their own respective lines of life and disappeared abruptly from the scenes and drift of our story.

But none wHo witnessed it will ever forget that abiding friendship of the “ Papist ” and “ Protestant.”

On the Thursday appointed Moultrie entered the class-room, sedately. Under his arm was his Viri Romce and a formidable roll of foolscap.

This “ roll ” was his “ original Latin composition in ten lines ” the professor had ordered.

So much paper for so small an affair seemed ominous. And every student present knew there was some sort of further fun in store. But all remained orderly though nervously expectant.

Hurrying through the recitation the professor called, “ Mr. De Kalb, your exercise now, please.”

Moultrie rose, solemnly, and deliberately opened his “ roll.” Than he brushed up his forelock to resemble the professor’s, cleared his throat in the manner of that gentlemen, and commenced reading, in imitation of the professor’s intoning manner, but purposely mispronounced words frequently, thereby causing delays until, by the time six pages had been read, the recitation hour had nearly expired.

The professor then, apparently for the first time, discovered the mass of supposed manuscript, and exclaimed with some acerbity:

“ If the remainder of your exercise, sir, is no better than what we have heard, it is just as well we have no more time to waste on it ; you can leave it with me for examination.”

Now this was just what Moultrie did not want to

TROUBLE — OMINOUS — IMPENDING.

do. But he had overleaped himself and was in for it. He placed the manuscript on the professor’s desk, and that gentleman, to his amazement, discovering that only one line was written on each page, directed him to remain after the class was dismissed.

That very night Moultrie was a prime mover in a charivari to a newly married post-graduate, in which an old cannon, fired in a narrow street, shattered all the window-glass in the vicinity.

When I say he was the prime mover, I mean that he was a leading instigator, but, in justice, it must be said he protested loudly against resort to the artillery, when tin-pans, trumpets, cow-bells, shrill whistles, and other noisy things, had failed the serenades in their object, and advised retreat.

He had been identified, however, and, although Si Quantrell had pierced several other disguises, Moultrie’s was the only case he cared to work up at that stage.

The president of the college was an elderly gentleman, with strong prejudices, and an irascible temper, which he had brought under admirable subjection by the exercise of a strong will.

Few men in fact have ever attained that excellent control of themselves he had reached.

He had been assailed, for years, by vicious opponents, and of late had been more hounded than ever, by which I mean that, for four decades of struggle to elevate the human race to a higher plane, social, moral and intellectual, he had been opposed, misjudged and thwarted on all sides, latterly more so than in previous years.

And now he was harassed with a multiplicity of anxieties.

Antagonisms among the faculty, differences between the students and towns-people, the college debt, and various complications that threatened to kill the favorable prospect for an expected endowment, together with recent family affliction and

MOULTRIE DE KALB.

straitened financial circumstances of his own ; all these combined to worry the noble old man, whose conscientiousness and innate kindly impulses, brought him only that sympathy which is an empty mockery, because it pities without relieving.

If some millionaire, whose shekels had piled up on his hands, in spite of the numerous princely benevolences he had bestowed, had stepped in and laid down a small hillock of plethoric gold-bags for the college, or had donated a quire or two of government bonds, much of the load might have been lifted from the oppressed heart of the dear old genleman, leaving only the worry and grief of a personal nature to afflict him, and which nothing could have entirely assuaged.

But the last good “ Magi ” seemed dead, and benevolent millionaires “ passed by on the other side.”

How to thwart this very manifest malice of Quantrell, aimed at Moultrie, and yet do his duty, was what, on this Saturday morning, grievously perplexed him, and, relying much on the excellent common sense of Professor Cheval, he had called him in for confidential consultation, before taking any official action in the case.

There is always more or less jealousy and antagonism between towns-people and collegians in all college towns, and very serious differences were at fever heat in Cedar-Crest at this particular time. Differences fomented, largely, by Quantrell.

Of all the college faculty it was generally conceded Professor Cheval had the most friends and admirers among the villagers.

His quiet jokes, his unassuming dignity, and his open detestation of all phases of sham had made him very popular, in spite of his indifference to popularity.

The President of the college believed Cheval more valuable, in an effort to patch up a peace, than the entire balance of the corps of teachers, combined,

TROUBLE— OMINOUS— IMPENDING.

himself included. But now, when he was flattering himself that that was about to be accomplished, this lamentable, disgraceful and destructive charivari had come to overwhelm him.

Moultrie was, of all the students, his chosen favorite. And Cheval’s also.

Because both knew there was no real malice in the boy.

“ It is very unfortunate, very, all this affair,” said the President. “ It has served to widen the already lamentable breach and will, I fear, greatly complicate matters. It depresses me more than I can tell.” Then, realizing his own utter impecuniosity he -added, vehemently,

“ I would have given a hundred dollars, poor as I am, and heavily in debt, if it had not happened ! Oh, if I could only have prevented it ! Dear me ; dear me ; it is too bad, too bad /”

“What had Quantrell to say?” asked Cheval, eying the President closely, for an instant, then judicially.

“ Oh, well, he is after Moultrie, I can see that ! To disgrace him is all he cares for, now, at least. I am afraid it will not end with our conclusion so far as Moultrie is concerned. We must save him ! What can we do ?”

Looking at Cheval as if asking “ What ?”

Neither spoke again for a full minute.

“ Some terrible retribution will surely overtake Quantrell!” Cheval finally remarked.

He had seated himself and held a book open on his lap. He did not know it was upside down.

When he said “ that man ” or “ that woman,” however carelessly, he always expressed the contempt in which he held the party spoken of.

The words were a true barometer of his feelings toward the person referred to.

“ I always think of a boy’s mother,” replied the president, “ when an affair like this comes to pass.

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Women feel disgrace so keenly, and moreover, Mrs. De Kalb dotes on Moultrie.”

“ I know Quantrell intends to use the investigation of the faculty as a stepping stone to criminal action before the courts,” said Cheval.

“ I shall insist therefore that our proceedings be with closed doors.

“ Unusual as it may seem we have a precedent, and I, for one, do not propose to give that man a chance to make capital, for his personal malice, off our deliberations, at the sacrifice of any one, much less Moultrie.”

The use of the Christian name, by the professor, in speaking to, or of persons, was always indicative of a more than ordinary personal regard for such person or persons.

Here again were his words a true index of his feelings.

“ Injudicious publicity and condemnation of offenses committed in thoughtlessness — especially in the case of young people — often leads to seriously bad results,” remarked the president.

“ I have known of punishment of that sort producing effects directly the opposite of what was sought ; especially in the case of young persons. People can be inured to shame as well as any species of hardship, for shame is hardship, and for that reason, in all cases of mischief resulting from mere exuberance of animal spirits, I certainly do not approve of harsh public correction.

“ When the offense is the outgrowth of a malicious disposition that needs prompt curbing — or absolute eradication — if that is possible, the case is entirely different.

“ I tell you, however, that unreasonable correction has done more to deprave the human race than anything else ; unwise restrictions in youth possibly excepted. Suppose we should resolve on a public investigation Damaging facts would surely come to light, facts not at all criminal, but which, in the present state of feeling, a jury of towns-people would most likely construe as such/’

“ Moultrie would be indicted and sent to prison. Of course he would be cruelly humiliated, but would it benefit him or any one ?

“ The usual cant about ‘ The majesty of the law must be vindicated/ and all that sort of stuff, in the matter of criminal procedure, to punish the wild colt pranks of a young student overflowing with animal exuberance, is the sheerest nonsense.

“ As to the damages wrought at the charivari, I received this morning an anonymous note, asking that a member of the faculty ascertain accurately the same, in full, and announce it, in detail, in the chapel, whereupon, the writer assures me, cash to cover the same will be placed in my hands. The writer further disclaims any intention by the participants, in the outset, to do more than treat a former student to a lively, ‘Chinese serenade.’

“ Now Cheval,” continued the president, “if there had been any of that malicious spirit dominating, that Mr. Quantrell charges, this note would never have been sent me. The handwriting is either most skillfully disguised or some outsider wrote it. It does not resemble the script of any student now on the college rolls. Read it and see if you can fix who is the author.”

Cheval took the note, scrutinized it closely, for some little time, and then laughed immoderately.

The president joined him, out of sympathy, perhaps, because, otherwise, he could not have told “ for the life of him ” why he laughed, also.

“ Wha — wha — what do you discover ?” he asked.

“ Why the manuscript is, apparently, understand me — apparently — masculine for a certainty, See how bold and defiant and, forgive the coinage — how * honesty-assertive ’ it looks ; but, to my mind, it is undoubtedly of purely feminine construction. Some sweet girl ally wrote it.”

After some further discussion of the incidents of

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the charivari Cheval withdrew and walked rapidly to his rooms in Druid Hall.

He was painfully aware of the state of feeling existing among the students, faculty, trustees and villagers. And he also read in the excited faces or averted looks of many of the young men that something unusual was brewing.

He scented mischief hatching of no ordinary character or proportions, and thought he saw encouragement, if not actual participation in it, foreshadowed in the demeanor of the graduating class.

And he set himself resolutely to work to find out what it could be.

On arrival at his rooms he found several students awaiting him. He greeted them cordially and then, in a shrewd but off-hand, seemingly careless, indifferent manner, proceeded to glean such inkling as he could.

Chapter II. The Greek-letter Clans On The Warpath

To quietly unearth and export from Cedar-Crest, and forever embargo therefrom the prime and most potent factors in the cause and continuance of these frictions and outbursts, was Cheval’s secret determination.

And he neither had nor would admit any ally nor confidant.

And there is little doubt that if “ such a consummation so devoutly desired ” could be achieved, he was the only man to accomplish it.

On this particular Saturday morning, he arrived most unexpectedly at the nature and value of the principal unknown quantity of his self-imposed problem.

And he resolved to pursue it to the finish.

it would have bothered a much shrewder body of then than the faculty of Cedar-Crest College, at that time, to hide from the ken of the secret societies of that temple of learning any move, portending, impending, or actually resolved on against one of its members.

Cheval had been correct in his hypothesis when he suggested to Dr. Waring — the college president, that the masculine handwriting of the anonymous note the doctor had received was of feminine construction, no matter who was the builder of the phraseology. And the secret societies did have allies at the “Young Ladies’ Seminary.”

At this particular period in their history, those societies boasted an astonishing array of budding and embryonic talent. Among their numbers, were a future Cabinet officer, two coming U. S. and three State Senators, five members of the lower House of Congress, a Territorial delegate, two Governors, and an honest Indian agent. Half a dozen front-rank journalists and numerous successful lawyers, divines and capitalists. To his amazement, Professor Cheval found that his guests knew all about the singling out of Moultrie De Kalb for prosecution by Quantrell. He had believed it a profound secret between himself, that worthy, and his immediate confederates and the college president.