CHAPTER XII.

OLD JOE MEEK AND MR. SPAULDING.

One day a man in a buckskin habit came to the door of the school-house and looked in upon the school.  His face was that of a leader of men, hard and powerful; one could see that it feared nothing, and that it looked with contempt on whatever was artificial, affected, or insincere.  His form had the strength and mettle of a pioneer.  He rapped a loud, hard rap, and said, in a sturdy tone: 

“May I come in?”

The master welcomed him cordially and courteously, and said: 

“This is Mr. Meek, I believe?”

“Yes, old Joe Meek, the pioneer—­you have heard of me.”

“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Mann.  “You have caught the spirit of Oregon—­you are Oregon.  You have made the interest of this great country your life; I honor you for it.  I feel the same spirit coming over me.  What we do here is done for a thousand years, for here the great life of the Anglo-Saxon race is destined to come.  I can see it; I feel it.  The morning twilight of time is about me.  I can hear the Oregon calling—­calling; to teach here is a glorious life; the whole of humanity is in it.  I have no wish to return to the East again.”

“Stranger, give me your hand.”

The New England schoolmaster took the hard hand of the old pioneer, and the two stood there in silence.

The children could not understand the great, soul-expanding sympathy that made these two men friends.  They gazed on Mr. Meek’s buckskin jacket and trousers with curiosity, for they were picturesque with their furs, belts, and weapons, and he looked like a warrior or a forest knight clad in armor.

He wore the same buckskin suit when he appeared in Washington as the delegate to Congress from Oregon.  It was at the time of Polk and Dallas, and not a person in Washington probably knew him when he made his appearance at the Congressional Hotel.

The people at the hotel stared at him as the children did now.  He went into the great dining-room with the other Congressmen, but alone and unknown.  The colored waiters laughed at him as he took his seat at the table.

The other people at the table were served, but no one came near him.  At last he turned and faced a hurrying colored man, and, in a voice that silenced the room, said: 

“Waiter, come here!”

The waiter rolled up his eyes and said, “Sir?”

“Have you any big meat to-day?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any bear?”

“Any bear? bear?  No, sir.”

“Any buffalo?”

“Any buffalo—­buffalo?  Where did you come from?  No, sir.”

“Well, waiter you may bring me what you have.”

The waiter went away with white teeth, and a smile and titter passed around the table.  The waiter returned with the usual first course of the meal, and was about to hurry away, when the old pioneer took out his pistol and laid it down on the table, saying: