The Doomsman | Page 7

of the learned are no more susceptible of proof than are the idle
speculations of the vulgar.
"For convenience, we will accept the popular classification of the
human race as it exists to-day--the Painted Men, the House People, and
the Doomsmen. To take them up in that order.
"The Painted Men, otherwise the Wood Folk, are the descendants of the
Indians of old, but the strain is largely mingled with that of the negro
race, and, with hardly an exception, it is the weaker qualities both of
body and of mind that have been emphasized in the hybrid. From their
Indian forebears they have preserved the custom of painting their face
with crude and hideous pigments upon all occasions of ceremony;
hence their popular designation--the 'Painted Men.'
"The House People are conveniently subdivided into two classes--the
townsmen, or House People proper, and the stockade dwellers,
colloquially, the Stockaders.
"The House People of the walled towns represent as nearly as may be
the middle classes of the ancient civilization. Originally, the family was
the political and social unit, just as with the patriarchs of Holy Writ, but
within the last generation the community idea has been growing rapidly,
and there are perhaps a score of towns and villages scattered along the
banks of the Greater and Lesser rivers.
"The Stockaders, reversing the procedure of their kinsmen of the towns,
live apart from one another, each proprietor depending wholly upon his
own resources for sustenance and defence. Some of the larger estates

contain several hundred acres enclosed by a strong timber stockade and
otherwise defended against the assaults of enemies. The head of the
family, or clan, as it might more properly be termed, is lord paramount
within his own borders, even possessing the rights of life and death.
But this last authority is rarely called in exercise, since these folk of the
free country-side are naturally wholesome, honest, generous-hearted
men, content to lead a simple life and coveting no man's honor or goods.
On the other hand, it must be admitted that the stockade dweller is both
provincial of habit and prejudiced of mind. He looks down upon the
townsman as a huckster in private and a shuffler in public life, and this
feeling of contemptuous enmity is fully returned by the cit, who regards
the free proprietor in the light of a boor and a bully. Moreover, it
rankles in the Houseman's breast that no Stockader pays a farthing of
head-money to the treasure-chest of the Doomsmen. Now and then
some well-to-do proprietor may suffer loss from cattle thieving and rick
burning, but as often as not the marauders pay full price for all they get.
And this leads us to a consideration of the Doomsman himself, that foul
excrescence upon our modern body politic. Fortunately, history here
speaks clearly, and we have only to listen to her voice.
"It was a natural procedure, upon the coming of the Terror, to throw
open the doors of the jails and other punitive institutions, thereby
giving the wretched inmates an equal chance for life. The great mass of
these degraded beings gravitated inevitably towards the cities, seeking
plunder and opportunities for bestial dissipation that even the dread
presence of the Terror could not restrain. Without hope and without
fear, they rushed to the vulture's feast; here was wine and gold and soft
raiment; let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.
"It was the ancient city of New York that received the vast bulk of this
army of human rats; naturally so, since it was the supreme
treasure-house of the western world. In such overwhelming numbers
did these vermin come that the civil and military administrations were
literally swarmed over. Between two days the outlaws were in complete
possession, and the small remnant of the decent residents retired
precipitately, preferring to meet death under the open sky rather than in
company with their new masters.

"The years went on, but the changes that they brought were few. The
descendants of the ancient criminals remained in the ruined city, at first
of necessity, afterwards by choice, finding there fuel and shelter in
abundance besides large stores of non-perishable food supplies. When,
in the next generation, these provisions became exhausted it was
inevitable that the refugees should fix covetous eyes upon the
threshing-floors and herd-stalls of their rural neighbors. But although
the outlaws had continued to gain in numbers, their natural increase
was not proportionate to the growing power of their adversaries. Little
by little the Doomsmen began to lose ground; already they had been
defeated several times in pitched battle, and it looked as though the
hornet's-nest would soon be smoked out.
"It was at this critical juncture that the infamous personality of Dom
Gillian made itself of commanding account, and thenceforth the
balance