When the door had closed upon them, Juana buried
her face in her hands.
“Oh, what misery I bring everywhere,” she
sobbed. “To my father and mother I brought death and
now to you all and to Jim and Mollie I am bringing ruin
and perhaps death also. But it shall not be—you shall not
suffer for me! He looked straight at you, Julian, when he
made his threat. What could he mean to do? You have
done nothing. But you need not fear. I know how I may
undo the harm I have so innocently done.”
We tried to assure her that we did not care—that we
would protect her as best we could and that she must not
feel that she had brought any greater burden upon us than
we already carried; but she only shook her head and at
last asked me to take her home to Mollie’s.
She was very quiet all the way back, though I did my
best to cheer her up.
“He cannot make you work for him,” I insisted. “Even
The Twentyfour, rotten as it is, would never dare enforce
such an order. We are not yet entirely slaves.”
“But I am afraid that he will find a way,” she replied,
“through you, my friend. I saw him look at you and it
was a very ugly look.”
“I do not fear,” I said.
“I fear for you. No, it shall not be!” She spoke with
such vehement finality that she almost startled me, and
then she bade me good night and went in to Mollie’s house
and closed the door.
All the way back home I was much worried about her,
for I did not like to see her unhappy.
As I approached the house I saw that the candle was
still burning in the living room—I had left so hurriedly
that I had given it no thought—and as I came closer I
saw something else, too. I was walking very slowly, and
in the soft dust of the pathway my soft boots made no
sound, or I might not have seen what I did see—two figures,
close in the shadow of the wall, peering through one of
our little windows into the living room.
I crept stealthily forward until I was close enough to
see that one was in the uniform of a Kash Guard while the
other was clothed as are those of my class, and in the latter
I recognized the stoop-shouldered, lanky figure of Peter
Johansen. I was not at all surprised at this confirmation
of my suspicions.
I knew what they were there for—hoping to learn the
secret hiding place of The Flag—but I also knew that unless
they already knew it, there was no danger of their discovering
it from the outside since The Flag had been removed
from its hiding place. So I hid and watched them
for awhile, and then circled the house and entered from the
front as though I did not know they were there, for it would
never do to let them know that they had been discovered.
Taking off my clothes I went to bed, after putting out
the candle. I do not know how long they remained—it
was enough to know that we were being watched, and
though it was not pleasant I was glad that we were forewarned.
In the morning I told Father and Mother what I
had seen. Mother sighed and shook her head.
“It is coming,” she said. “I always knew that sooner or
later it would come. One by one they get us—now it is
our turn.”
It was market day, and I went in with a few wethers,
some hides and cheese. Father did not come along—in
fact, I advised him not to as Soor would be there and also
Hoffmeyer. One cheese I took as tribute to Soor. God,
how I hated to do it! But both Mother and Father thought
it best to propitiate the fellow, and I suppose they were
right. A lifetime of suffering does not incline one to seek
further trouble.
The market place was full, for I was a little late. There
were many Kash Guards in evidence—more than usual. It
was a warm day—the first really warm day we had had—and
a number of men were sitting beneath a canopy at
one side of the market place in front of Hoffmeyer’s office.
As I approached I saw that Or-tis was there, as well as
Pthav the coal baron, and Hoffmeyer of course, with several
others, including some Kalkar women and children. I
recognized Pthav’s woman—a renegade Yank who had
gone to him willingly—and their little child, a girl of about
six. The latter was playing in the dust in front of the
canopy some hundred feet from the group, and I had
scarcely recognized her when I saw that which made my
heart almost stop beating for an instant.
Two men were driving a small bunch of cattle into the
market place upon the other side of the canopy when suddenly
I saw one of the creatures, a great bull, break away
from the herd and with lowered head charge toward the
tiny figure playing, unconscious of danger, in the dust. The
men tried to head the beast off but their efforts were futile.
Those under the canopy saw the child’s danger at the same
time that I did, and they rose and cried aloud in warning.
Pthav’s woman shrieked and Or-tis yelled lustily for the
Kash Guard; but none hastened in the path of the infuriated
beast to the rescue of the child.
I was the closest to her and the moment that I saw her
danger I started forward; but even as I ran, there passed
through my brain some terrible thoughts. She is Kalkar!
She is the spawn of the beast Pthav and of the woman who
turned traitor to her kind to win ease and comfort and
safety! Many a little life has been snuffed out because of
her father and his class! Would they save a sister or a
daughter of mine!
I thought all these things as I ran; but I did not stop
running—something within impelled me to her aid. It
must have been simply that she was a little child and I the
descendant of American gentlemen. No, I kept right on in
the face of the fact that my sense of justice cried out that
I let the child die.
I reached her just a moment before the bull did and
when he saw me there between him and the child he stopped,
and with his head down he pawed the earth, throwing clouds
of dust about, and bellowed—and then he came for me;
but I met him half way, determined to hold him off until
the child escaped, if it were humanly possible for me to
do so. He was a huge beast and quite evidently a vicious
one, which possibly explained the reason for bringing him
to market, and altogether it seemed to me that he would
make short work of me; but I meant to die fighting.
I called to the little girl to run and then the bull and I
came together. I seized his horns as he attempted to toss
me and I exerted all the strength in my young body. I had
thought that I had let the hellhounds feel it all that other
night; but now I knew that I had yet more in reserve,
for to my astonishment I held that great beast and slowly,
very slowly, I commenced to twist his head to the left.
He struggled and fought and bellowed—I could feel the
muscles of my back and arms and legs hardening to the
strain that was put upon them; but almost from the first
instant I knew that I was master. The Kash Guards were
coming now, on the run and I could hear Or-tis shouting to
them to shoot the bull; but before they reached me I gave
the animal a final mighty wrench so that he went down first
upon one knee and then over on his side and there I held
him until a sergeant came and put a bullet through his head.
When he was quite dead Or-tis and Pthav and the others
approached—I saw them coming as I was returning to my
wethers, my skins and my cheese. Or-tis called to me, and
I turned and stood looking at him, as I had no mind to
have any business with any of them that I could avoid.
“Come here, my man,” he called.
I moved sullenly toward him a few paces and stopped
again.
“What do you want of me?” I asked.
“Who are you?” He was eyeing me closely now. “I
never saw such strength in any man. You should be in the
Kash Guard. How would you like that?”
“I would not like it,” I replied. It was about then, I
guess, that he recognized me, for his eyes hardened. “No,”
he said, “we do not want such as you among loyal men.”
He turned upon his heel; but immediately wheeled toward
me again. “See to it, young man,” he snapped, “that you
use that strength of yours wisely and in good causes.”
“I shall use it wisely,” I replied, “and in the best of
causes.”
I think Pthav’s woman had intended to thank me for saving
her child, and perhaps Pthav had, too, for they had both
come toward me; but when they saw Or-tis’ evident hostility
toward me, they turned away, for which I was thankful.
I saw Soor looking on with a sneer on his lips and
Hoffmeyer eyeing me with that cunning expression of his.
I gathered up my produce and proceeded to that part of
the market place where we habitually showed that which
we had to sell, only to find that a man named Vonbulen
was there ahead of me. Now there is an unwritten law
that each family has its own place in the market. I was
the third generation of Julians who had brought produce
to this spot—formerly horses mostly, for we were a family
of horsemen; but more recently goats, since the government
had taken over the horse industry. Though Father
and I still broke horses occasionally for The Twentyfour,
we did not own or raise them any more.
Vonbulen had had a little pen in a far corner, where
trade was not so brisk as it usually was in our section, and
I could not understand what he was doing in ours, where
he had three or four scrub pigs and a few sacks of grain.
Approaching, I asked him why he was there.
“This is my pen now,” he said. “Tax collector Soor
told me to use it.”
“You will get out of it,” I replied. “You know that it
is ours—everyone in the teivos knows that it is and has
been for many years. My grandfather built it and my family
have kept it in repair. You will get out!”
“I will not get out,” he replied truculently. He was a
very large man and when he was angry he looked quite
fierce, as he had large mustaches which he brushed upward
on either side of his nose—like the tusks of one of his
boars.
“You will get out or be thrown out,” I told him; but he
put his hand on the gate and attempted to bar my entrance.
Knowing him to be heavy minded and stupid I thought
to take him by surprise, nor did I fail, as, with a hand upon
the topmost rail, I vaulted the gate full in his face and
letting my knees strike his chest I sent him tumbling backward
into the filth of his swine. So hard I struck him that
he turned a complete back somersault, and as he scrambled
to his feet, his lips foul with oaths, I saw murder in his
eye. And how he charged me! It was for all the world
like the charge of the great bull I had just vanquished,
except that I think that Vonbulen was angrier than the
bull and not so good looking.
His great fists were flailing about in a most terrifying manner,
and his mouth was open just as though he intended
eating me alive; but for some reason I felt no fear. In
fact, I had to smile to see his face and his fierce mustache
smeared with soft hog dung.
I parried his first wild blows and then stepping in close
I struck him lightly in the face—I am sure I did not strike
him hard, for I did not mean to—I wanted to play with
him; but the result was as astonishing to me as it must
have been to him, though not so painful. He rebounded
from my fist fully three feet and then went over on his back
again, spitting blood and teeth from his mouth.
And then I picked him up by the scruff of his neck and
the seat of his breeches and lifting him high above my head
I hurled him out of the pen into the market place, where,
for the first time, I saw a large crowd of interested spectators.
Vonbulen was not a popular character in the teivos, and
many were the broad smiles I saw on the faces of those of
my class; but there were others who did not smile. They
were Kalkars and half-breeds.
I saw all this in a single glance and then I returned to
my work, for I was not through. Vonbulen lay where he
had alighted and after him and onto him, one by one, I
threw his sacks of grain and his scrub pigs and then I
opened the gate and started out to bring in my own produce
and livestock. As I did so, I almost ran into Soor, standing
there eyeing me with a most malignant expression upon
his face.
“What does this mean?” he fairly screamed at me.
“It means,” I replied, “that no one can steal the place
of a Julian as easily as Vonbulen thought.”
“He did not steal it,” yelled Soor. “I gave it to him.
Get out! It is his.”
“It is not yours to give,” I replied. “I know my rights
and no man shall take them from me without a fight. Do
you understand me?” And then I brushed by him without
another glance and drove my wethers into the pen. As
I did so, I saw that no one was smiling any more—my
friends looked very glum and very frightened; but a man
came up from my right and stood by my side, facing Soor,
and when I turned my eyes in his direction I saw that it
was Jim.
Then I realized how serious my act must have seemed
and I was sorry that Jim had come and thus silently announced
that he stood with me in what I had done. No
others came, although there were many who hated the Kalkars
fully as much as we.
Soor was furious; but he could not stop me. Only The
Twentyfour could take the pen away from me. He called
me names and threatened me; but I noticed that he waited
until he had walked a short distance away before he did so.
It was as food to a starving man to know that even one
of our oppressors feared me. So far, this had been the
happiest day of my life.
I hurriedly got the goats into the pen and then, with one
of the cheeses in my hand, I called to Soor. He turned
to see what I wanted, showing his teeth like a rat at bay.
“You told my father to bring you a present,” I yelled
at the top of my lungs, so that all about in every direction
heard and turned toward us. “Here it is!” I cried. “Here
is your bribe!” and I hurled the cheese with all my strength
full in his face. He went down like a felled ox and the
people scattered like frightened rabbits. Then I went back
into the pen and started to open and arrange my hides
across the fence so that they might be inspected by prospective
purchasers.
Jim, whose pen was next to ours, stood looking across
the fence at me for several minutes. At last he spoke.
“You have done a very rash thing, Julian,” he said; and
then: “I envy you.”
