CHAPTER IV
A POLITICAL DIFFERENCE
Spring came at last, though some of us almost longed for the frozen paths when we sank inches deep in the mud. We really were a city now and had a mayor about whom there was still some contention. He had been elected by the small majority. There were many citizens who objected to this step and even then aldermen were looked upon with some suspicion. Where was the money to come from for all the improvements planned? We were going along comfortably, why not let well enough alone?
There were a few sidewalks, but the streets were a terror until they settled a little. The wind helped; there were times when it swept from the prairies and brought the inspiration of the far west, the promise of what could be done shortly, visions of acres of wheat fields that were to be powerful rivals to peltries and furs.
It was absolutely funny sometimes to hear the old men talk who gathered about the wharf or strolled round the warehouse, which was stretching out as well as running over. We, engaged in the heart of things, had our hands full, and were not likely to "creak in the j'ints" for lack of exercise.
"This 'ere Hubbard 'lows he knows most every thin'," old Hiram Green would say, "'sif the Lord had gin him a kind of far-off sight and called him into council t' settle things. Ther's some freightin', but he didn't diskiver it. Fore he was born things come down from Detroit an' Canady. 'N I've hearn tell that some old Frenchman talked this canal business long time ago. Ther's nothin' new under the sun—Solomon said so—an' 'though I don't hold altogether to Solomon, he had a clear head there. Canal'l never be built more'n I be made over. Sho now! Country was good enough forty year ago, when you could get your livin' huntin' and fishin' and were livin' neighborly round the blockhouse."
"Ye ferget the Injun raids," said Abe Byers. "Had to git yer scalp fasten'd on tight every mornin' er cut yer hair short. An' what's livin' wuth if yer ain't improvin'? We want a good clear run to the Mississip—"
"An' be holpen them ther' towns all along the river. Ther's Saint Louis an' Kasky an' Cahooky an' down to Noo Orleens, all them ther' places to the east that are braggin' theirselves up, and we'm goin' to be jest a sort o' isthmus between this and that," balancing his hands one way and the other. "All they want is er right o' way jest to tromp thro' us, to buy things down yender and sell 'em up ther'," nodding his head. "An' who gits the money? I declar' to man I ain't seen a dollar in so long that I'm 'feared I should drop dead if one kem my way."
"We can't spare you yit, Hi' Green, so we ain't goin' to put that ther' kind o' sacrifice in your way," laughed a good-natured man. "Some day when you're 'bout a hundred they'll be writin' a story of Chicago, an' they'll want to know these 'ere old facts. So you jes' keep 'em safely stored in that brain of yourn."
"Can't many remember furder back?" returned the old man, somewhat mollified. "I've hearn granpop tell 'bout that old black fellow thet come from some o' the islands down 'bout Gulf o' Mexico with his injun wife when ther' were only a few tradin' cabins, an' ther' land was free for anybody who could give a string o' beads to an Injun."
"Beads won't pass muster now, and I wonder if Pierre Menard didn't feel sick afterward when he found what a good bargain he had unloaded on John Kinzie. The Kinzie tribe will be rich enough presently."