Stephen had food for thought as he walked northward through the strange streets on that summer evening.  Here indeed was a force not to be reckoned, and which few had taken into account.

CHAPTER II

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

It is sometimes instructive to look back and see hour Destiny gave us a kick here, and Fate a shove there, that sent us in the right direction at the proper time.  And when Stephen Brice looks backward now, he laughs to think that he did not suspect the Judge of being an ally of the two who are mentioned above.  The sum total of Mr. Whipple’s words and advices to him that summer had been these.  Stephen was dressed more carefully than usual, in view of a visit to Bellefontaine Road.  Whereupon the Judge demanded whether he were contemplating marriage.  Without waiting for a reply he pointed to a rope and a slab of limestone on the pavement below, and waved his hand unmistakably toward the Mississippi.

Miss Russell was of the opinion that Mr. Whipple had once been crossed in love.

But we are to speak more particularly of a put-up job, although Stephen did not know this at the time.

Towards five o’clock of a certain afternoon in August of that year, 1858, Mr. Whipple emerged from his den.  Instead of turning to the right, he strode straight to Stephen’s table.  His communications were always a trifle startling.  This was no exception.

“Mr. Brice,” said he, “you are to take the six forty-five train on the St. Louis, Alton, and Chicago road tomorrow morning for Springfield, Illinois.”

“Yes sir.”

“Arriving at Springfield, you are to deliver this envelope into the hands of Mr. Abraham Lincoln, of the law firm of Lincoln & Herndon.”

“Abraham Lincoln!” cried Stephen, rising and straddling his chair.  “But, sir—­”

“Abraham Lincoln,” interrupted the Judge, forcibly “I try to speak plainly, sir.  You are to deliver it into Mr. Lincoln’s hands.  If he is not in Springfield, find out where he is and follow him up.  Your expenses will be paid by me.  The papers are important.  Do you understand, sir?”

Stephen did.  And he knew better than to argue the matter with Mr. Whipple.  He had read in the Missouri Democrat of this man Lincoln, a country lawyer who had once been to Congress, and who was even now disputing the senatorship of his state with the renowned Douglas.  In spite of their complacent amusement, he had won a little admiration from conservative citizens who did not believe in the efficacy of Judge Douglas’s Squatter Sovereignty.  Likewise this Mr. Lincoln, who had once been a rail-sputter, was uproariously derided by Northern Democrats because he had challenged Mr. Douglas to seven debates, to be held at different towns in the state of Illinois.  David with his sling and his smooth round pebble must have had much of the same sympathy and ridicule.