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 fierce and burning that