s and a sinewy giant by the name of Lincoln were thrilling the
West. Phillips and Garrison were thundering in Massachusetts, and fiery
tongues in the South were flashing back scornful challenges and threats
that would imperil a nation. An invisible air-line shot suddenly
between the North and the South, destined to drop some day and lie a
dead-line on the earth, and on each side of it two hordes of brothers,
who thought themselves two hostile peoples, were shrinking away from
each other with the half-conscious purpose of making ready for a
charge. In no other State in the Union was the fratricidal character of
the coming war to be so marked as in Kentucky, in no other State was
the national drama to be so fully played to the bitter end.

That night even, Brutus Dean was going to speak near by, and Chad and
Caleb Hazel went to hear him. The fierce abolitionist first placed a
Bible before him.

"This is for those who believe in religion," he said; then a copy of
the Constitution: "this for those who believe in the laws and in
freedom of speech. And this," he thundered, driving a dagger into the
table and leaving it to quiver there, "is for the rest!" Then he went
on and no man dared to interrupt.

And only next day came the rush of wind that heralds the storm. Just
outside of Lexington Chad and the school-master left the mare and colt
at a farm-house and with Jack went into town on foot. It was Saturday
afternoon, the town was full of people, and an excited crowd was
pressing along Main Street toward Cheapside. The man and the boy
followed eagerly. Cheapside was thronged--thickest around a frame
building that bore a newspaper sign on which was the name of Brutus
Dean. A man dashed from a hardware store with an axe, followed by
several others with heavy hammers in their hands. One swing of the axe,
the door was crashed open and the crowd went in like wolves. Shattered
windows, sashes and all, flew out into the street, followed by showers
of type, chair-legs, table-tops, and then, piece by piece, the battered
cogs, wheels, and forms of a printing-press. The crowd made little
noise. In fifteen minutes the house was a shell with gaping windows,
surrounded with a pile of chaotic rubbish, and the men who had done the
work quietly disappeared. Chad looked at the school-master for the
first time: neither of them had uttered a word. The school-master's
face was white with anger, his hands were clinched, and his eyes were
so fi