less to do with the result than the prompt action of a couple of
hundred defenders of the place who made a dash outwards towards the
advancing rabble. Mounted on a grocer's box in the main street, John
Brown thus addressed them before action: 'If they come up and attack
don't yell, but remain still. Wait till they get within twenty-five
yards of you: get a good object: be sure you see the hind sight of
your gun--then fire. A great deal of powder and lead is wasted on
aiming too high. You had better aim at their legs than at their heads.
In either case, be sure of the hind sights of your guns. It is from the
neglect of this that I myself have so many times escaped; for if all
the bullets that have ever been aimed at me had hit, I should have been
as full of holes as a riddle.'

All these skirmishes from a military point of view were trivial, but
from a political standpoint they were crucial. They saved Kansas, and
made free election at length possible. Brown and his men were
'incarnate earnestness,' says one writer, and it was that fervent
devotion which made all that followed possible. It became impossible
for a government to wink at arson and murder. 'Take more care to end
life well than to live long,' the old man used to say, and he
exemplified his doctrine.

His reckless bravery was proverbial. After one of their successful
skirmishes a wounded Missourian wished greatly to see the redoubtable
John Brown before he died. The captain went to the wagon where he lay
and said, 'Here I am; take a good look at me; we wish you all no harm.
Stay at home, leave us alone, and we shall be friends. I wish you
well.' The dying man looked at him from head to foot, and, reaching
out his hand, said, 'I don't see as you are so bad. You don't look or
talk like it. I thank you.' Clasping his hand, the old captain said,
'God bless you,' and his tears were the Amen. Thus tender was he ever
with his prisoners, despite his fierceness.

At length the United States Government saw the free settlers were in no
abject mood, and stepped in to their relief. John Brown saw the dawn
of better days, and then travelled away northward, worn and sick, with
a fugitive slave as a kind of trophy hidden in his wagon. Before long
he found security and peace for a while at North Elba, New York, at the
house of Gerrit Smith.

CHAPTER VI

THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY

We now find John Brown busy for a while in the Northern States
add