They become despotic. They will not solicit work. Work must solicit them. Their labor is an article in demand, and the price goes up, up, up. There are special rates paid during harvest—paid at no other season. In the years immediately succeeding the war harvest hands received as high as five dollars per day—and were not content. They never are. If wages are two dollars and fifty cents, they demand three dollars. If three they ask for four. It is their harvest-time; and without a cent in their pockets and existing on the bread of charity, they will hold out for days together, in idleness, rather than work for less than they demand.
Then a few days work; a glorious spree in which their earnings disappear; and they move off along the Range. As the harvest retreats north they follow it. Neither benefitted in purse or person by the labor they irregularly perform.
The dram shops do a thriving business. Scenes of lawlessness are numerous, and battles with towns that have tired of their arrogant idleness and mendicancy frequently occur. Railroads are blockaded with them. Road employees lead a life of trouble, terror and turmoil. Incidents have been where they have seized trains. They hesitate at nothing. Every year the herd becomes larger,—every year its chance for honest labor smaller and smaller. There is a great enemy eating up their range; destroying their stamping-grounds. It is invention. Where seven men held stations and bound in a field, three men on a harvester now do the same amount of work. What will you do with the idle four? Where three men labored on a harvester, one now drives and the automatic binder makes the sheaves. What will you do with the idle two?
"Make producers of them."
Good. Who will make the consumers, were each to produce for himself?
On to the north—to the great grain fields of Minnesota—go the herd. And then they come back again; but no longer the solid army that marched north. Fleeing from the cold they come down in fragments. By boat, raft, and skiff down the great river. By tramping, and jumping the trains. By every conceivable method of travelling they make their way south. Where was this herd twenty-five years ago? We do not know. Like the Texas cattle trade, it is a growth of the present decade.
It was this Harvest Range that Ben now found himself crossing. The herd had left. It was far to the north. Remnants of it were numerous, however. Tramps who had tired of following the trail. Sharp tramps who cutely remained to fatten on the deserted pastures. Sharper tramps who sought the lower rendezvous before the herd returned. Crippled members of the fraternity, left behind. Parties that the law had detained. The stragglers formed quite a respectable army still.
At least our hero thought so, shortly after ensconcing himself in an empty box car on a western bound freight, late that night. It was the only empty and open car in the train, and he was congratulating himself upon holding exclusive possession of it when a gang of four invaded his privacy, and in passing the next three stations the excursionists had augmented to fifteen souls. Of course the train employees became aware of their presence, and ordered them off twice. The first time they all got out and going around to the other side all got in again. On a repetition of the order to dismount they merely laughed and chaffed the conductor. The conductor telegraphed the state of affairs to Maidensville and called for help to eject them. The operator made the dispatch public, and the citizens of Maidensville were apprised of their approaching visitors. The tramps were not blind to these matters. Expecting a forcible ejectment and arrest when they arrived at Maidensville, they guarded against it by refusing to allow the train men to close the doors and lock them in, intending to jump from the train before it drew up at the station. But the engineer threw his valves wide open and ran his train into the depot at a rate that prevented the squad from leaving until it finally stopped. When it did so a surprise awaited all parties. A delegation of citizens was on hand with bread and cheese. It begged the tramps to remain in the car and partake of the food, intimating an immediate arrest for any who dismounted. They were also informed that their ride to St. Louis was paid for, and the conductor discovered to his chagrin, that, by telegraph, the citizens of Maidensville had chartered empty box car No. 1073 to convey a load of live stock from Maidensville to St. Louis—that day and date. The conductor opened his eyes. The citizens smiled broadly. And the fair city of Maidensville was relieved from her unwelcome guests.
With much hilarity the excursionists completed their ride into East St. Louis, where they arrived at noon. But what was Ben's dismay to find a small squad of police ready to receive them as they dismounted! Alas, here he was again, for the second time during his journey, under arrest!
The crowd was taken before the mayor, arranged in a platoon, charged with vagrancy, asked no questions, permitted no defence, found guilty,—and sentenced to sixty days in the work house, and a fine of fifty dollars, each! Good-bye to New Orleans. Good-bye to the twenty thousand dollars. Good-bye to the great, glorious, grey eyes. Our hero was fairly floored. Indignation at this summary treatment was swallowed up in amazement. Struck dumb with the overwhelming nature of his disaster, with drooping head and downcast eyes he followed his companions in misery out of the court room. They traversed several streets, closely attended by policemen, and at last neared the river. The tall chimneys and acres of roofs of smoke-curtained St. Louis arose on the opposite bank. Our friend's heart gave a great leap. There was the city that had filled his mind these many days. There was where he was to have again seen her. There was the half-way house of his tramp. Once in it and his journey would have seemed more like an accomplished fact, having attained the first objective point in the stipulations of his wager. And there it was, just across the river—so near and yet so far! A mile of water, sixty days imprisonment, and fifty dollars fine, separating them. Wild thoughts entered his head.