Buell Hampton. Emerson Willis George
overtake the thieves.”
Soon after this Hugh took leave of Mr. Horton, who gave him a pressing invitation to call at his ranch. Hugh accepted this invitation by promising to visit Mr. Horton at no distant day.
CHAPTER VIII. – A COMMITTEE OF FIVE
THE Barley Hullers’ Association was a secret society made up principally of tried and true members of the Farmers’ Alliance. It had been founded by Maj. Buell Hampton, who was district organizer of the Farmers’ Alliance in southwestern Kansas. It was said that the primary incentive of the farmers thus associating themselves together was to prevent the excessive prices which they were compelled to pay for articles purchased, and to raise the ruling prices which they had been forced to accept for the products of their farms.
About a mile northeast of Meade, in an old deserted building that had formerly been used as a sugar mill, were the secret lodge-rooms of the organization. This dilapidated building was provided with a spacious reception-room, an anteroom, and a hall of deliberation, and was indifferently illuminated throughout with green and red lights.
The written work of the order was said to be very literary in tone and was based upon the great principle that in union there is strength. Its professed object was to exact justice from the contending forces of the commercial world. Indeed, it was an organization founded on the principles of the brotherhood of man and of fair dealing toward all classes.
Maj. Buell Hampton enjoyed, perhaps, a pardonable pride in this organization, which was strictly a child of his own making. The members had passwords, grips, and everything of that sort, whereby one brother Barley Huller might know another, whether in the dark or in the light. It was a custom, among the members of the organization, to turn out in force on the Fourth of July and other holidays. On such occasions they paraded the streets to the tat-tat-too music of a snare drum and the shrill whistle of a fife. Their badge was a cluster of barley heads, worn as a boutonnihre.
When crops were good the Farmers’ Alliance organization usually languished, but when they were poor a marked revival invariably sprang up. It was the highest ambition of the young farmer who was a member of the local Farmers’ Alliance to show, by his zealous work and adherence to the principles of that organization, that he was worthy and eligible to membership in the Barley Hullers.
There was a system of procedure in these secret meetings which gave a better idea of the aims and accomplishments of the order than anything disclosed in its written by-laws or professions of faith. At these secret meetings one might find two or three dozen stalwart farmers seated on broken chairs and benches, while their chief presided. The exercises consisted of a general exchange of confidences, which were usually made in speeches intended for the general good of the order.
A few evenings after Hugh had made the acquaintance of John Horton, the Barley Hullers had a meeting, at which Bill Kinneman, a prominent yet rather inflammable member, was present. Several members made spirited speeches and finally Kinneman got the floor.
“Mr. President,” said he, “I’m no corn-field sailor ner exhortin’ evangelist, but I’m ‘lowin’ if anybody crosses my trail, why, we’ll jist try a tussle an’ see who’s locoed fust. Fur the las’ ten years I’ve bin ridin’ the range, workin’ like a nigger fur other people, an’ durin’ all this time I hev never hed a single ray uv hope ‘til I jined the Barley Hullers.”
The twenty-five or thirty members sitting around cheered him lustily at this convincing confession.
Bill continued: “There’s a lot uv us laborin’ fellers thet hasn’t hed no privileges up to the present time, an’ now we air proposin’ to hev a little fairer divide. Fur my part, I’m tired uv bankers, cattle kings, middlemen, an’ all the other blood-suckers who air feastin’ in luxury on our hard labor.”
“Hear! hear!” shouted the crowd. Thus encouraged, Kinneman continued:
“Speakin’ wide open and onrestrained like, I want to say it’s mighty nigh time we wuz provin’ a man’s better ‘n money. It’s time our brotherhood wuz banded together tighter ‘n ever an’ thet we stop bein’ slaves fur these ‘ere money kings who hev got their iron heels on our necks an’ air grindin’ us down in the dust like as we wuz a pack of Russian serfs. We ask fur bread an’ they giv’ us a stun; we ask fur meat an’ they give us a serpent, an’ by an’ by we’ll hev to ask permission to breathe the pure air uv heaven, as we take a gallop acrosst the range.”
Wild huzzas and more hand-clapping greeted this, and the speaker continued:
“I’m liable to git hostile in the extreem an’ somebody’s goin’ to git hurt on this ‘ere range afore long onless a change sets in. The question is, hev n’t us workin’ fellers got to thet pint uv life whure money is more respected than the genuine pure artickle uv manhood? Thet’s the question, feller citizens, fur us to settle. Pussonally I’m feelin’ a heap careless.”
Cries of “Good!”
“That’s right!”
“Come again!” were heard on every side.
“Lets us,” continued Kinneman, “take our cue from these ‘ere money fellers. Ev’ry cussed one uv ‘em is in a pool or a trust uv some kind an’ hang together jist like so many cockle-burrs, an’ we, my br’thers, mus’ do the same. We’re the fellers thet’s workin’ like dogs an’ they’re the fellers thet’s hevin’ all the big dinners. Now, I say, is the time to stop. It’s no longer a question uv capital an’ labor, it’s a question uv life, an’ jestice on one side an’ death an’ injestice on t’other. There’s liable to be a select assortment uv guns doin’ onusual permiscus work in these ‘ere diggins if some people don’t quit assoomin’ sooperior airs over us laborin’ men. My doctrine is to hustle an’ git what b’longs to us, peace’ble if we can; if not, git it anyway.’.rsquo;
“That’s right!”
“Now you’re talking!” was heard from the open-mouthed auditors.
“Now, gen’lemen,” concluded Kinneman, “I don’t b’lieve in a feller screechin’ round too much. Talk’s mighty cheap. I b’lieve in bein’ plenty p’lite; same time I want to be doin’ suthin’. An election is clus to hand, an’ the fellers thet git the support uv the Barley Hullers in this ‘ere county air dead sure to be elected, and I onbosom myself enuff to say that they’ve got to pay fur it an’ pay fur it han’some, an’ no misunderstandin’, an’ don’t yer furgit it, an’ – ”
“Hold on!”
“Hold on!” cried several voices. “We must not go into politics.”
“Major Buell Hampton,” said one member, “has expressly provided that politics shall not be mixed up in this organization. Now, while I am with Brother Kinneman in much that he has said, yet I draw the line on violating any of the rules of the order.”
Bill Kinneman was about to reply, when a greasy-looking member stealthily took him by the coat sleeve and whispered a few words to him.
“All right, Mr. President,” said Bill, “p’rhaps I wuz actooally a leetle too fast, an’ I ‘poligize fur whoopin’ it up in so ondefensible an’ hostile fashion.” Other members spoke, but in a less fiery manner. Most of them were moderate in their expressions, and urged that in union there was sufficient strength to accomplish all the aims in a peaceful and friendly manner.
Soon after the meeting broke up, the lodge-room became a lobby, thick with smoke from numerous pipes. Kinneman was praised on every hand for his fiery speech. A little later the farmers wended their way in different directions toward their respective homes, while Kinneman and his four associates skulked back into the old mill building, and sought the privacy of the room of deliberations, taking special care that the window curtains were well drawn.
“You mighty nigh upset our game, Brother Bill,” said Dan Spencer.
“Well, I ‘poligize. I clar furgot myself, sure,” replied Kinneman, good-naturedly. “Now, if it’s agreed, I’ll act as chairman, an’ we’ll state briefly the objec’ of this