“Mr. Maybee, I feel like a miserable cur whenever I think how supinely I have rested while such a horror was perpetrated--and yet I call myself a man! Your government cannot long survive under a system that thrusts free-born people into slavery as were those helpless children. May I have a word with you in private?” “Hu--sh!” said Mr. Maybee, looking cautiously around, “them ar sentimen’s breathes pizen in this loorid atmosphere. Ef one of the galoots walkin’ about this deck was to hear you, you’d dance on air at the yard arm in about two minutes. Them’s dang’rous opinions to hold onto in free Ameriky,” replied Mr. Maybee with a sly twinkle in his eye. “See that pile o’ lumber out on the wharf? Well, that’s the best place I know on to have a leetle private conversation with a friend. The boat won’t start fer some time yet, an’ I can straddle one end o’ the pile an’ keep a sharp lookout for listeners.” “There’ll be a war in this country in less than two years, I predict,” continued Maxwell, as they walked ashore. “No need o’ waitin’ two years, mister; jes’ make it two months. The prelude to the war that’s comin’ was struck last fall when all Western Missouri poured into Kansas an’ took the ballot out of the hands of our citizens, sir. Eli Thayer’s teachin’ all the North to emigrate into bleedin’ Kansas an’ fight it out. That’s me, mister; I says to Ma’ Jane, my wife, ‘good-bye, Ma’ Jane, ef I don’t come back you’ll know I’ve gone in a good cause, but John Brown’s calling for volunteers an’ I’m boun’ to be in the fight.’ So, I’ve left her power of attorney, an’ the business all in her name, an’ here I am. It beats all nature how fightin’ jes’ grows on a man once he’s had a taste. Mr. Maxwell, do you know anythin’ about the transfiguration of souls that some college fellars advocates? Dad gum it, I believe mos’ of us must have been brutes once. Yes, sir, dogs an’ vicious hosses, an’ contrairy mulses an’ venomous repertiles. Yes, sir, there’s goin’ to be a fight, an’ I’m spilin’ to git in it.” “Is it possible that matters are as critical as you say?” “Critical! You may call ’em so, my boy. Six months ago I took up a claim outside o’ Lawrence. One mornin’, a fortnit later, twenty-eight men tied their hosses to the fence and one asked me: ‘Whar you from? East?’ ‘Yes,’ says I. ‘Then you’re a d----d abolitionist,’ another says politely. ‘Of course,’ says I, an’ in less than a half-hour the place was cleaned out, my shack burnt to the ground an’ my cattle driven off. Me an’ two or three of the boys put up a decent fight or I wouldn’t be sittin’ here talkin’ to you to-day. ’Tain’t their fault.” “You amaze me, Mr. Maybee.”