MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
CHAPTER I
LEFT WOUNDED ON THE FIELD
Inow recall our part in the battle merely in a series of detached pictures, having dull, blank spaces between. Nevertheless, how vividly bright with color each separate scene photographed itself upon the retina of the eye. I remember our battery first going into action along the western edge of the old cemetery, among the billowy graves, the cracked overturned stones; I recall the mass of green leaves, checkered by red blossoms, where the vine clambered over the large monument at one rear and how I entangled my foot in the creepers and nearly fell. I shall never forget the ghastly white face of Rosecran's side, his long brown beard blown backward by force of the wind, as he came furiously spurring up the road, his head bare, his hand pointing forward, screaming out his orders; I remember the wild clang and turmoil as our startled horses plunged to the left, dragging after them the black guns, with muzzles still smoking grimly, on a mad, reckless gallop down into the shelter of a shallow ravine splashing through the running water, and dashing in headlong impetuosity up the sharp incline of the opposite bank. I heard the wild yells of the excited drivers, the blows, the crunching of heavy wheels over the stones; I saw the leap of the caissons, the rush of the men. Panting for breath, stumbling over the rough ground, I raced beside Number Two for the crest, vaguely wondering why Wyatt was lashing his leaders so like a demon. I saw Somers go tumbling forward in a shapeless heap, and one of the straining wheelers on Number One drop dead in the traces, dragged remorselessly onward by his team-mates. Yet I was there, my hands hard on the spokes, sluing the heavy guns into position, the very instant the released caissons were trotted to the rear down the protecting slope. Then it instantly became all clockwork, mechanism, discipline. I could scarcely distinguish faces or even forms; all was rush, riot, seeming confusion; yet I knew it must be Keane to right of me and Parkhurst at left. A sharp order hurtled into my numbed brain, and I echoed it automatically even as I heaved, the hot perspiration blinding my eyes, the mad lust of the fight throbbing through my veins. With one bound backwards I was at the breech, the slim muzzle deflected downward into the valley. I marked the vague figure of a man, unrecognizable, spring hastily back from the mouth of the gun, crouching down, rammer in hand; over that deadly smooth barrel I caught one glimpse of low tangled bushes, of drifting smoke clouds, of a solid gray mass breaking through, of sunlight shimmering along a front of levelled steel—then I jerked the lanyard, and mingled smoke and flame burst forth. All that followed was pandemonium, rush, roar, leaping, shapeless figures. I could perceive nothing clearly; all I remember was that we were firing canister, the deflected guns leaping madly back with the recoil, growing hot to the hand. I trod on bodies as I toiled; I heard through the stifling volume of smoke, the infernal uproar, a hoarse shouting of unrecognizable orders, the wild scream of a wounded horse, a single mad oath, an agonized voice yelling from behind, "Where in hell is the infantry?" Yet all that I actually realized then were those distorted black shapes springing back and forth from that gun muzzle, and the lanyard grasped in my hand. That alone was my work, my duty, and I must stand to it until I died. Two years of iron discipline had made me into a machine.
Something burned my shoulder like a sudden spurt of flame; I felt sick from the shock, and clung desperately to the breech to keep from falling; I saw faces here and there amid the brown whirls of smoke, strange, unknown repulsive faces, rendered hideous from the strain of conflict; my gun toppled over, one wheel smashed into splinters; I saw Wyatt turn and run for the rear, and Parkhurst flung backward as though shot from a catapult; I jerked the rammer out of his dead, clutching hands, and began striking fiercely at that crush of gray figures leaping toward me. Then everything went blank, and I pitched over under the wreck.
It was dark when I slowly reopened my eyes, and endeavored to look about, dark and still, except for a faint gleam of distant stars, and the awful gurgling of some desperately wounded man lying not far away. My head throbbed feverishly from pain, and my right side ached horribly as I first attempted to move my body. Above me was the black breech of the gun, and my extended hand touched the single wheel upholding it, the spokes ragged from splinters. It hurt me so desperately to turn over that I remained motionless for a long time, staring straight up at the sky, listening intently for each sound, and endeavoring to think. In a measure the situation soon became sufficiently clear—that fierce charge of the enemy had reached us unchecked, and we had lost the guns. Of this there could be no doubt; but what more? Had we also lost the battle?
How deadly still the night was; not a shot echoing anywhere, not a footstep, not a voice; only that awful gurgling breathing yonder to the left. One of my feet pressed against a body, and I moved it carefully, although even this slight action resulted in a sharp twinge of pain. I could perceive another form huddled in a shapeless heap against the wheel, and, as my hand reached out groping toward the right, it touched an ice-cold face. Someway my ordinarily reckless nerve had totally deserted me, and I drew back shuddering, a nameless fear clutching at my heart. I was afraid to ascertain the truth. Had I been badly injured? Was I crippled for life? To my mind that would have been far worse than death, and had ever been my dread in battle. Now I feared the reality had reached me. At length, mustering sufficient courage for the effort, my teeth clinched in final determination to know the worst, I endeavored to feel along my side where the twinges of pain seemed most severe, but only to discover my rough woollen shirt stiff from congealed blood. My lip, were dry and cracked, my tongue parched and swollen. Suddenly, in the stillness, I distinguished the sound of some one approaching, and sank down again, motionless, listening.
They came slinking toward me from out the night much as jackals might, creeping along from body to body, mumbling to each other as they groped around in the darkness, occasionally lifting their heads to listen like hunted wild beasts. I recognized them instantly as the scourge of the battlefield: human scavengers, foul vultures, whatever uniform they might wear to hide their crime, midnight robbers of the dead. I lay there silent, almost breathless from the clutch of sudden terror, in my covert beneath the dismantled gun, while they swiftly rifled the pockets of that shapeless, hideous thing upheld by the wheel, they saw me lying there plainly enough, but nearer at hand were victims far easier of approach, and so they slunk growlingly past, leaving me unmolested. Yet I distinguished enough of their profane speech to render the situation clear. Our army had been pressed relentlessly back, driven pell-mell across the river in disorderly retreat and the victorious forces of the Confederacy held the field. I stared up at the pitiless stars, perspiration beading my forehead, my teeth clinched from despair and pain. With the first coming of another dawn details would search the field to collect the wounded; they would discover me lying there helpless, and hold me prisoner. A single shot rang out far to my right and the black figure of one of those skulking vultures went slinking past on a run, stumbling in his haste over the dead bodies. Already sentries diligently watched, and with the coming of daylight the Confederate burial parties would be busy.
The very sound of that distant musket shot served to arouse me to action. Slowly, and with no little pain, I succeeded in creeping forth from beneath the gun shadow, and sat up. Perhaps my wounds were not really serious; I might be merely dazed from the blow on the head, weakened and fevered by loss of blood. My side still throbbed severely, it is true, yet my limbs were intact, and I managed to draw myself erect by grasping the spokes of the wheel, until I finally stood there faint and trembling. Nevertheless I realized my strength was coming back in response to movement, a fresh determination taking possession of my mind. I felt ready to endeavor, provided there remained anything to endeavor for. And was was there not? The Federal army could not be very far away; they would have rallied, and reformed their shattered lines by now; those bronzed fighting men I knew so well, as eager as ever to redeem themselves from the bitter sting of defeat. I must endeavor to join them, not lie here to run the risk of capture on the morrow. There would be some hiding-place near by into which I could crawl before the revealing dawn came; far better a long day of suffering and hunger than months, perhaps years, of hopeless imprisonment. Swaying weakly on my feet, I grasped the gun, endeavoring to peer about through the darkness. I could recall so little of the surroundings—there was the black shadow of a wood to my front, but the river would surely be in the opposite direction and the narrow stream we had crossed while coming into action must be yonder to the left. I determined to creep down there anyway, for I must have water; my lips and throat were so dry I could not swallow. I made the endeavor on hands and knees, keeping well aloof from the numerous bodies, and crouching low as possible to escape the observation of any sentry near at hand. Thus I finally arrived at the edge of the hank, where the descent was steep, and slid silently down. Once beside the narrow stream I dipped my face in the running water, and drank greedily.
The cooling draught yielded me renewed life, and energy. Nothing about stirred; there was no sound excepting the murmur of the shallow stream at my feet, and the faint stir of leaves overhead. I tore aside the rough woollen artillery shirt I wore and attempted to explore the wound in my side: it was a jagged, ugly gash, evidently torn by a splinter, but not dangerously deep, although it had bled profusely. I washed it out as best I might with the cold water, gritting my teeth to the sharp pain, and finally fastening a silk handkerchief over the wound to prevent chafing. Some object moved along the opposite hank, a short distance down stream, and I crouched lower within the shadow, watching intently. But I saw nothing to alarm me further, even the slight sound of movement dying away. Suddenly I seemed to recall to memory the vague glimpse of a distant house far down the valley, half revealed as our battery dashed forward into position. Assuredly I had actually seen this; it was no dream. There would undoubtedly he found opportunity for concealment among the out-buildings, provided I could attain to their shelter before daybreak; possibly for food also if any negroes yet remained there. Every inch of this open territory would be diligently searched for the wounded, and my sole chance for escape lay somewhere without the immediate zone of battle. I rubbed my forehead, endeavoring to recall more vividly the faint impression. It must have been two, perhaps three, miles distant, a large white house, almost completely surrounded by trees, and barely showing down the narrow gap of the valley. If I followed the stream I could scarcely go astray.
I struggled to my feet, experiencing a thrill of relief at the subsidence of pain, and the noticeable return of strength to my limbs. I was less seriously injured than I had at first believed, and this knowledge added immeasurably to my stock of hope and courage. Of Irish blood, ardent, combative, the very sense of surrounding danger became a stimulant. I stole silently down beneath the gloom of the bank shadow for possibly a hundred yards, scanning the opposite shore with anxious eyes, yet perceiving nothing calculated to alarm. Then I crept up to the level above, discovering there the faint traces of a road, which I followed, walking forward cautiously. There were numerous fires glowing redly some distance to the right, across the ploughed field, and I could hear a vigorous hammering on iron. Once I sank down into a shallow depression as three shadowy horsemen rode silently past, and, a little beyond, cautiously circled a broken-down army wagon, with a man sleeping peacefully underneath. Then the road led downward into the broadening valley, running through a black fringe of trees, the gloom beneath the interlaced branches so dense I could scarcely discover the way, tripping continually over stumps and roots. It was a long two miles before I attained to the fragment of an enclosing rail fence, and could perceive the dark outlined shadow of a large shed beyond. However, the exercise of the tramp had served to strengthen my muscles, while the attendant excitement had completely swept away the cobwebs from my brain, the cool night acting as a tonic. I had become a man once more, energetic, resourceful; no longer the wounded, aimless thing that had crept, weak, dizzy, and despairing, from beneath the wrecked gun. I took a long breath, peermg about through the darkness, and then cautiously crept underneath the rails into the shed shadow.
CHAPTER II
IN WHICH I SEE AND HEAR
THE faintest tinge of approaching dawn was already in the sky, as yet scarcely perceptible, but enabling my eyes, trained by the long night vigil, to distinguish the dim outlines of my immediate surroundings. Slightly beyond the ramshackle old shed, in the protection of which I crouched, were visible several small log huts, closely grouped together, undoubtedly the negro quarters of the plantation. These appeared deserted, the door of the nearest standing wide open. A low picket fence, originally painted white, but now sadly demoralized, one section lying flat on the ground, served to separate this portion of the estate from the house lot, while a thick hedge of trees thoroughly concealed the mansion itself from view. But the smouldering embers of a camp-fire glowed sullenly directly in front of the covered entrance, and I could both perceive and hear the restless movement of horses tied to the veranda rail. Creeping cautiously forward as far as the fence barrier would permit, I was enabled to distinguish the shadowy figure of a sentry wearily pacing back and forth in front of the broad porch. Beyond all question some Confederate general officer had very sensibly appropriated the place for his headquarters, while his personal escort were encamped within the yard.
I made my way slowly back, all immediate hope of obtaining food dismissed from my mind. Greatly as I felt the need, the risk was too desperate. I had far better seek some safe corner within the old shed, sleep there quietly throughout the day if possible, and then try my luck he next night. Finding the door ajar, I crept in, discovering the interior well crowded with various implements of farm machinery and other odds and ends, among the intricacies of which I slowly picked a path back into the farthest corner. Here a variety of empty barrels and boxes offered a fairly secure hiding-place, and I crawled into a niche next the wall, and thankfully snuggled down, watching the advancing daylight slowly turn the rough interior gray. Almost before I realized the possibility I was sound asleep.
Some unusual noise aroused me, yet when I first opened my eyes I possessed no conception as to how long I had been sleeping. It was still bright daylight, however, and I could perceive a bit of sunlight streaming in through a crack of the western side wall. For a moment or two I lay there puzzled, hearing nothing, and unable immediately to determine what it was which had awakened me so suddenly. Then I distinguished voices conversing apparently not more than ten feet distant. Quietly as both parties spoke, their voices so subdued, indeed, as to render the words indistinguishable even at that distance and in the silence, I was enabled to determine the speakers to be a young white woman and a negro. There was no mistaking the intonation of the latter, but the other voice was so low, vibrant with the soft idiom of the South, that I lifted myself cautiously, peering out from behind the concealing boxes, in order that I might thus assure myself she was really white. The negro stood with his back toward me, a short, stockily built fellow, but bent somewhat by years and hard toil in the fields, his wool showing a dingy gray beneath the brim of his hat. By every outward token he was an old-time slave, to whom freedom would possess no vital meaning.
Just beyond his broad, bent shoulders appeared the features of a young girl, a most piquant face, marked now by trouble and perplexity, yet clearly reflecting a nature in which all the joy of life naturally predominated. I caught merely a glimpse, for I dared not brave disclosure, yet so deeply did that single glance impress me that, had I never been again privileged to see her, I could not have entirely effaced the memory. Scarcely more than eighteen years of age, rather slight of figure, still retaining the form of girlhood, less than medium height, standing firmly erect, every movement displaying unconscious grace and vigor, her face bright with intelligence, animated by every passing emotion, her cheeks flushed with health, her hair of darkest brown, fluffed carelessly back from off the low, broad forehead, her eyes the deepest unfathomable gray-blue, oddly shadowed by long lashes densely black, her lips full, red, and arched, speaking softly the pleasant idiom of the Southland. For a single moment she appeared to me a vision, fulfilling my dreams of young womanhood; then I awoke to the reality—that in fair rounded flesh and pure red blood, she stood there, an ideal surely yet no less a living, breathing fact. My ears finally caught the words of the slave:
"But shorely, Miss Jean, I reckon I don't git dis jist straight, somehow. Why should n't ye do it, honey, when yo' pa an Massa George both want ye to? Dat's what I don't understan' nohow. Don't ye want ter marry Massa Calvert?"
The delicately arched mouth drew down severely, the biue-gray eyes drooping behind lowered lashes.
"I only wish I knew, Joe; I sure wish I knew," her soft voice filled with doubt. "I reckon I always expected to have to do this some day, but that never seemed so bad when it was a long way off. But now they insist it must be to-night, and—and it sure scares me."
"But don't ye love him, honey?"
The girl's eyes opened wide, gazing straight into the black, troubled face fronting her.
"I just don't know, Joe, that's a fact; but—but I'm afraid not. He is just the same to me now as he was when we were children and played together. Sometimes I don't mind being with him, and then there are other times when I am actually afraid to have him near me. I don't think I ever really care whether he is here or not, and—and I do get awfully tired of him when he talks to me; he—he treats me like a little girl, and acts so superior. It almost makes me hate him." She put her hands up to her head, rumpling up the brown hair, a little pucker showing across her forehead. "He has been away most of the last two years, and—and, well, I haven't missed him much! I know I have been lots happier here left alone."
"Ye shore have been happy 'nough," broke in the negro, soberly. "But ye shorely can't live yere alone no more for a while, Miss Jean. 'T ain't no laughing matter, far as I can see. De sojers was yere most ebery day, an' blame me if I can see which side was de worst, de Yanks or de Confeds. Dey steal, an' dey git drunk, an' dey fight, an' it wan't no fit place no longer fer any young gal to be all alone by herse'f, wid no one but an ol' nigger to look after her. It could be did, Missus, when dis country was peaceable like, but now de Lord only knows what's goin' to happen next. Dis yere house would have been burnt to de groun' long afore dis if General Johnston had n't been a-living yere, an' now he's gone. Ye know all dat, Miss Jean, an' it shore looks best to me what yo' pa an' Massa George wants ye fer to do."
"Do you like Calvert Dunn, Joe?"
"Well, maybe I don't exactly like him. Miss Jean," scratching the gray wool under the edge of his hat, and evidently puzzled how to answer diplomatically. "Ye see, he never done treated dis nigger ver' nice, dat's a fact, fer shore. But I reckon it am just his way, an' he don't really mean nothin' by it, nohow. Anyhow he shore t'inks an almighty lot o' ye, Miss Jean, an' ye'd shore be perfectly safe where dey all live at Fairview, while yo' pa and Massa George was away a-fightin' agin de Yanks."
"The armies may come to Fairview yet, and there is no one there but old Judge Dunn and Lucille."
"An' ye don't believe nuffin' of de kind, honey. Dere's half de field han's left dere; some of dem niggers don't know der is any war. Dem armies never will git over de mountains nohow, an' if dey does, de ol' judge got a pow'ful lot o' fight left in him yit. I'd like to see de Yankee sojer what sets fut to his house, I shore would. It was de best place for ye to go to, child, anywhere in dese parts."
The girl sank down on a box, burying her face in her hands, and the negro stood helplessly looking at her, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Finally he blurted out,
"Ye shore ye don't want to marry Massa Calvert, Miss Jean?"
"Oh, really I don't know, Joe, I don't know," the soft voice trembling, the hands clasped. "I feel so different about it at some times than I do at others. I try to make myself realize that it is a duty, and that I am ungrateful not to yield to the wish of my people. Then occasionally he is so nice to me that I feel ashamed not to treat him better. But now, now when it comes to a final decision, and I know my whole future depends upon what I do, I experience a positive aversion for Calvert Dunn. I cannot express it rightly, but I possess no real confidence in the man; he does n't seem true to me, or manly. Besides, I feel as if I was being sold; as if my choice had nothing whatever to do with the matter. Choice!" She sprang to her feet with girlish impulsiveness, one hand pressing her temple. "I have been given no choice; they treat me like a child; they simply tell me I do not know my own mind; that they are the better judges as to my future happiness. But I am the one who will have to live with him, Joe, and put up with his tantrums; and he has tantrums; I already know him well enough for that. And I have n't a soul to turn to, only you; I am all alone. They won't even talk to me, except to give their orders."
"Ye pore little gal," and the old negro's hand was unconsciously stroking her ruffled hair. "I shore wish I could help you, Miss Jean, I shore does, honey, but yo' pa an' Massa George am pow'ful hard men to deal wid when dey once git deir minds sot, an' dey am bofe sot on dis all right. Dey would jist about skin dis nigger alive if he kicked up any muss. I certainly don't tink dat Massa Calvert was onywhere near good 'nough for ye, Miss Jean, an' no more does Diana. We done talked dat over more nor once, but I don't pertend to set up my judgment agin yo' pa an' Massa George, honey. I reckon as how dey knows what am bes', an' dese am pow'ful dangerous times for a gal to live yere all alone. Was Massa Calvert comin' over yere to-night?"
"Yes; there is some early movement contemplated, and that has compelled them to force this matter. He has secured leave for thirty-six hours—just long enough to be married and carry me across the mountains to Fairview."
"An' what 'bout Diana an' me. Miss Jean? It's shore goin' to be mighty lonely yere widout ye, honey."
She clasped the gnarled black hand between her soft palms.
"I know that, Joe, and there is very little for you to look after since that Yankee cavalry company ran off all our stock; but I reckon you'll have to stay just the same, and keep the house until some of us get back again."
"Den ye're really a-goin', Miss Jean?"
"Yes, Joe, I’m going; there is no choice left me. They insist it is for the best, and have made all arrangements. Why, General Johnston's chaplain is waiting there in the house now, and Calvert is expected as soon as it is dark. I am almost ready to run away, if I only knew somewhere I could run to. I have n't any defence, even, for I do not know a thing against Calvert Dunn; so I've got to marry him," her voice choked, her handclasp tightening. "And—and, Joe, I know I'll be miserable, for I believe he is a cowardly brute."
"Ye does, honey?" in unmitigated astonishment at this sudden outburst.
"Yes, I do, although I hardly know why. I have not even dared to whisper it to myself before. It has been little mean, contemptible things no true man would ever be guilty of. Look how he lashed you across the face with his riding-whip; look how he shot that poor dog because it failed to retrieve to his liking; look how he sneered at me for binding up the poor thing's wounds. Such things show what he is, rather than his soft words and outward veneer of courtesy. Besides, what real man would ever insist on a girl’s marrying him when he knows she would almost give her life to escape?"
"Does Massa Calvert know dat?"
"He does, if he understands the English language. I told him plainly enough, and he only laughed. He said I was a child, and didn't know my own mind; then he endeavored to frighten me. Oh, Joe, Joe, if I only had some one I could go to for advice! But no one will even listen to me seriously. There does n't seem anything left me but to marry this man. Father and George both think so highly of him, they will not hear a word spoken against him. I simply had to talk with some one, Joe, and let out my heart; that's why I came out here to you. Oh, I know you can't help me, but you're sorry for me, ain't you, old Joe? It helps just to know some one understands, and is sorry. I tell you, all the slaves in the South are not black, and I reckon it's just as hard to be born free, and then sold, as any other way. I might have learned to like him if he had only come to me as a man should, striving to win me for himself, and treating me as if I possessed a mind and heart of my own; but no, he ignored me entirely, and appealed to papa and George, telling them of the danger I was in here,and of how valuable the two estates would be if joined together. That's the way they have forced me along to the sacrifice—I'm sold for the price of the land."
"Ye pore little girl."
"Say poor little fool, rather," and she sprang to her feet, her cheeks burning with swift indignation. "I should have fought it, fought it; but all that is too late now. I am going, Joe; there is no use talking any longer, and so I am going to smile and look happy, and no one but you will ever know that I am not. You dear old black thing, you've been more like a father to me than any one else ever has. And I am going to have you and Aunt Diana with me at Fairview just as soon as I can. It will be a comfort just to have you there to look at when my heart seems like breaking. And he'll break it, Joe; I know he will, for he cares for no one but himself."
She was gone, vanishing almost as a shadow might, leaving the speechless black staring after her, his outstretched hands trembling as from palsy. Slowly his head drooped forward, and for some moments he remained thus, the picture of utter despair.
"Pore little lamb! pore little lamb!" he kept saying over and over. "An' she am right 'bout it too; dat Massa Calvert am not de kind fer Miss Jean."
Then he passed out also, and I was left alone within the shed.
CHAPTER III
A MILITARY SECRET
MY interest in the situation thus oddly disclosed, awakened very largely, I must admit, by the extremely attractive personality of Miss Jean, and the deep, pathetic appeal in her soft voice, left me momentarily forgetful of my own unpleasant condition and requirements. Both parties to the dialogue had disappeared before I realized any personal necessity for action. By that time it was too late, as I durst not follow the retreating negro out into the open sunlight; nor did I feel, judging from the bitterness with which both he and the girl had referred to the Yankees, that this particular colored brother would prove very much inclined to assist one wearing my uniform. What, then, could be done? I reclined against a packing-case, with brain rested by sleep, reviewing the situation, and endeavoring to plan out some safe method of procedure. That I could in any way aid the young woman out of her present difficulty would have been a preposterous thought; interested I was, yet I had sufficient trouble on hand of my own. My wounds by this time gave me very little concern, and my mind was sufficiently clear and active. Except for some accident, escape ought not to prove so very difficult, although it was true I should be compelled to travel through the night. largely by instinct, knowing almost nothing regarding roads, direction, or where Confederate pickets might be encountered. Still ordinary precaution ought to yield me passage, and the river itself would be a sufficient guide. If I only possessed some semblance of a Confederate uniform, the adventure would become much more simple, for in the confusion which must have followed the late engagement, there would be many scattered soldiers of all arms, wandering about. seeking their lost commands.
However, the first important and vital consideration was food, but that, as well as all else, must wait the coming of darkness. The sun had already disappeared behind the grove of trees in the west, and very soon, beneath the gathering gray of twilight, I ventured to creep forth from my covert and peer cautiously out through the partially opened door. There was a fire burning in the kitchen of the big plantation house, a heavily built negress bustling about busily within, her robust shadow clearly revealed by the reflection of the flames. This was probably Diana, and her aflection for the Yankees was not apt to differ very widely from those of the others.
I must have watched her for fully ten minutes. unable to decide what I had better do, and becoming hungrier every second. The night shadows constantly deepened, and no alarming sound reached me from any direction. Finally Diana came forth on the back steps. holding a dish of something smoking hot in her hands. and began calling shrilly for Joe. There was no response. Muttering continually to herself, the negress passed across to the second cabin and, disappearing for a moment, came forth again empty-handed, and returned to her labors. Evidently Joe's supper had been carried to him, but the important question in my mind just then was, where was Joe? If he had been there he would certainly have answered her call. If not there, then this was my one opportunity. I was far too desperate to hesitate long, and, in the thickening shadows, stole swiftly forward to the cabin which the negress had visited.
The door was latched, but had no lock; there was no sign of occupancy within, and a moment later I came hurriedly forth with what had been intended for Joe's supper, and bore it safely back, still hot and savory, to the shelter of the shed. It was a rasher of bacon and corn bread, ample in amount, admirably cooked, and I certainly enjoyed it to the very last crumb. At the close I hid the dish carefully and, now recklessly comfortable, felt amply prepared to face the adventures of the night.
There was no sound of horses' hoofs stamping in the front yard, nor could I perceive any sign of a pacing sentinel before the house. The guard of the night previous, whatever might be the cause, had very evidently been removed. I hardly know now why I first ventured in that direction, yet I skirted the low garden fence, where the night shadows were most dense, until I found myself crouching close against the latticed veranda. I stopped then suddenly enough, perceiving the figures of three men seated just beyond, evidently enjoying a quiet smoke after their evening meal. I might not have noticed their presence at all, but for the red glow on their cigars, as no one of them spoke for several moments. Indeed, they remained silent and motionless for so long that I became nervous under the strain, half inclined to believe their dim outlines some illusion of the night. I had even drawn back cautiously for a foot or two, intending to make off down the road, when a peculiar deep voice gave utterance to a question, which as instantly stopped me with eagerly beating heart.
"Your news is not exactly clear to me, Chaplain. I understand you to say the plan is for McDermott's Division to take to the Minersville road at midnight, the others to follow along parallel lines hourly until daybreak?"
"Those are certainly Johnston's orders, Colonel Denslow. I distinctly heard them from his own lips, and was also present when his aides were sent out to the various division commanders."
"But nothing whatever has reached me, and we should naturally be third in line to follow McDermott, from our present position."
"Beyond doubt the orders to move are already at your headquarters. An orderly may be tearing down the road even now to recall you to camp. Your regiment is stationed to the left, just beyond the creek, is it not?"
"Yes," and the speaker, a tall, slender, yet broad-shouldered man, rose impatiently to his feet and gazed off in the direction indicated. "The Tenth Georgia Cavalry, Coulter's Brigade. I had no expectation of so hurried a movement. The Yankees are safely across the river entrenching, and all reports reaching us looked like a week's reorganization, and then a direct attack on their position. What is Johnston up to?"
"A flank movement in force, before they can complete their entrenchments. He believes our army in fighting mood, encouraged by victory, and in far better condition than that of the enemy. He proposes to strike suddenly on their right flank, and crumple them up. He will leave all his camp-fires burning, both to-night and to-morrow night, so as to deceive the Federal scouts, fling his troops swiftly across the river before dawn Wednesday, and make the attack at daybreak. He expects to be in their camp before they are aware he has changed position. The success of the movement depends entirely on the promptness of the division commanders, and the condition of the roads. Our cavalry scouts report the plan perfectly feasible."
Colonel Denslow paced nervously back and forth across the broad veranda, the red glow of his cigar lighting up his face and revealing a closely trimmed gray beard.
"This sudden arrangement leaves me in rather a bad predicament," he confessed at last, pausing suddenly. "You know, of course, what you are here for to-night, Mordaunt, although I have not explained all the details; it is to marry my only daughter, Jean, to Lieutenant Calvert Dunn. The present condition of the country, and the danger involved in leaving a young girl here alone and unprotected, has hurried our arrangements, and prevented any formality. But Dunn has been detailed on Johnston's staff, and the Lord only knows where he may be now, if all you say is true. According to our plans he ought to have been here an hour ago, but no doubt he is riding with orders, cursing his luck with every step of his horse, and utterly unable to send us any word to account for the delay. And what, under these circumstances, can I or my son do? Any minute an orderly may come dashing down the west road. That will mean we must depart at once and leave Jean Denslow here alone, absolutely alone, with only an old negro and his wife on the place. Besides, if Johnston succeeds in his plan, and routs the Yankees by striking them on the right flank, this plantation is likely to be in the direct line of their retreat. Great God, man! do you comprehend all that will mean to the girl? Here alone, defenceless, in the track of a beaten army! By Heaven, I would risk my commission rather than desert her to such a fate."
There was a hush, during which I could clearly distinguish the heavy breathing of the three men. Then the softer voice of the Chaplain asked,
"But what particular difference at this time would her marriage to Dunn make?"
"He intended to take her immediately, as his wife, across the mountains to Fairview. It is not very far away, yet so situated as to be out of the track of both armies, in an isolated valley among the hills. His father and sister are there. They would have ridden the distance to-night, and by to-morrow morning she would be in perfect safety."
"But why not have your son ride with her to this haven of refuge? He is here by permission of his superior officer, no doubt, and, if he started before any orders of recall reached him, no harm could result. By hard riding he might even be back to take his command in time for the proposed attack; and surely Lieutenant Dunn's people would receive and protect your daughter, even if the marriage had not already taken place."
The younger man, seemingly little more than a stripling, was on his feet now also, flinging his cigar into the grass.
"I could do it, father," he exclaimed eagerly. "Jean rides as well as any man, and I could be back in Minersville in forty-eight hours. Shall I go?"
"If necessary, yes, George, but we will wait here until the last possible moment in the hope that Dunn may appear. My heart is set on the consummation of this marriage. Chaplain; it has been the cherished plan of our families ever since the birth of Calvert and Jean, not only because it will unite us all more closely, who have been neighbors more than a hundred years, but because our plantations touch each other, and will form one magnificent property after the war. Jean, I regret to say, has been the one obstacle in the way heretofore—she is somewhat headstrong and filled with girlish notions—but she has at last consented to do as we wish, and I am actually afraid to permit her any opportunity for reconsideration. She is a strange girl, and I never know what her mood may be. Once the ceremony is over I shall feel safe, but not before. George, you had better see that the horses are saddled and ready; we will wait for Dunn till the last possible moment. If the orderly comes first, my boy, you are to ride away with your sister before you hear his orders. Have your horses tied there in the fence corner and Jean dressed for the journey."
I slowly drew back from my position as George disappeared around the opposite side of the house. I was a soldier, and had become possessed of an important military secret, which in every sense of my duty compelled me to bear to Rosecrans if possible. The slightest delay might prove disastrous; yet how was I to accomplish the work in time to be of value? I was well within the Confederate lines, on foot and a fugitive, my ragged uniform sure to betray me to any challenging sentinel. I comprehended something now of the lay of the land, the situation of the two armies, and the direction of the contemplated movement. If I only possessed a horse and a Confederate uniform, I might discover a passage and arrive in time with my message of warning to prevent a grave disaster. Those horses tied to the fence corner! George was there, and probably the negro Joe as well, and they were so close to the house the slightest sound of a struggle would be heard instantly. That would mean four against one, the four armed. The orderly! Ay, there was a possible chance he would come riding down that road from the west alone, unsuspecting danger. And he would surely come, if what the Chaplain said was true. Any moment now we might hear the hoof-beats of his horse echoing through the darkness. It was a black, cloudy night, intensely still, and I would need to get some distance away before any attack on the speeding messenger would be safe. Yet, could I once succeed in waylaying him alone, I felt little (ear as to the results of the encounter. I was young, strong, long inured to fighting, and besides would possess all the advantage of surprise. I reached my decision as a soldier, with no other consideration in mind than the plain duty which this emergency brought. The training and discipline of years all combined to urge me forward in forgetfulness of self.
I crawled back along the fence shadow, grasping, as I passed, a loosened picket for a weapon, and pausing long enough behind the shed to fashion it so as to fit my hand. Then I walked boldly down the road to the westward. The gloom of the night was so dense I had to feel the ruts with my feet, yet I had travelled that way before through the darkness, and remembered some of the peculiarities of the path. Not far beyond the corner which I judged marked the limits of the Denslow plantation, the road dipped sharply over a rocky bank, and descended into the narrow valley of the creek. This appeared to me a spot well fitted for an ambuscade, and I came to a halt, leaning against a stunted tree, listening anxiously. The time had already become most precious. The remaining hours of the night might be ample for my purpose, if I only knew the surrounding country better, and could thus find my course directly to the Federal camp. But the chances were I should have to ride many a useless mile seeking to get free from the enemy's lines before reaching our pickets. Every moment of darkness I could gain would add immeasurably to my chances of success. It seemed as if night had never before been so still; not even the slightest sound of life reached me; no rustle of leaves, and barely the faintest tinkle of distant water. Overhead not so much as a single star was visible, and, as I glanced uneasily behind, no gleam of light shone forth from any window of the great house. I was so thoroughly alone the silence strained my nerves and aroused my imagination. Mine was not by any means a pleasant position, now that I had leisure to reflect upon it—I was upon the very edge of the battlefield, well within the Confederate lines; where their sentries were posted, their pickets placed, I could not even guess, only I might rest assured no open road would be neglected. Yet, if any were near, the orderly certainly would be challenged as he rode toward me, and any such sound of warning must reach me from a long distance amid the stillness.
I must have distinguished the approach of that horse's hoofs fully a mile away,—first the faint ring of steel on an exposed stone, and then, a little later, the dull thud of a steady canter. The fellow rode recklessly enough through such gloom, rode as if he were no stranger to the path, yet surely he would be compelled to rein up as he came to cross the water, and with this in mind, I half slid, half crept down to the very edge of the stream, crouching beneath the dense shade of an out-cropping rock, grasping my club firmly, but with heart pounding from excitement. I must act quickly, mercilessly, or there would certainly be firing, the spread of alarm. Not only my own life, but perhaps the fate of an army, depended upon that struggle in the dark.
CHAPTER IV
AN UNEXPECTED PREDICAMENT
CHUG! chug! chug! The fellow was evidently astride of a good horse. Once he broke sharply into a canter, under the spur, but mostly the sounds were those of steady, swift trotting, the rider, no doubt, permitting the animal to pick its own way, with scarcely a restraint upon the rein. They came down the opposite bank, stumbling slightly at the abruptness of the descent, slowing to a walk at the edge of the stream, and then I obtained, for the first time, a dim, smudgy outline of both horse and man. There was a splash of hoofs, a slight pause, as the animal gulped down a few hasty swallows of water, a muttered oath from the impatient rider, accented by a dip of spurs, a scramble for footing on the bank.
The horse saw me as I leaped forward, and sprang sideways, the suddenness of movement causing his surprised rider to lean far out in instinctive effort to retain his seat in the saddle. What followed was strain, confusion, struggle. I had him by the jacket collar, dragging him to earth, and we went down together, clinching desperately. His revolvers were in the saddle holsters, and we fought it out with bare hands. It was so swiftly done as to be scarcely describable; I recall blows struck, the fierce wrestling, a smothered oath, a grappling at the throat, the rolling over and over, our limbs twisted together, and then my throttling him until he lay prone and helpless. There was a derringer in his inner jacket pocket. I felt it as I rested on top, and, wrenching it forth, I pressed the round muzzle against his forehead, my voice full of threat at the slightest movement. The fellow now lay breathless, trembling like an aspen from exertion, more frightened than hurt, yet with all the fight whipped out of him.
Using little enough ceremony, I stripped him of jacket and trousers, flinging down in return beside his prostrate body my own fragments of uniform. As I hastily donned the garments thus feloniously appropriated, my fingers chanced to touch the braided insignia of rank on the jacket collar, and I stopped, staring down in surprise at the dark outline still cowering before the levelled derringer.
"Who are you, an orderly?"
"No, a lieutenant of cavalry."
A flash of light came to me; I had waylaid the speeding bridegroom.
"Oh, indeed," I said, the surprise of discovery rendering me careless. "Then I suppose you must be Calvert Dunn?"
He made no reply which I could understand.
"Come, you might as well answer me."
"I am."
"Of Johnston's staff, I believe, but what regiment?"
"The Tenth Georgia. But who are you? What do you mean by this attack? How do you happen to know my name?"
I took ample time to consider my answer, buttoning the tight-fitting jacket to the throat; then said coldly,—
"I hardly suppose it will do any harm for you to know, as I propose tying you up safely, and leaving you here out of sight and sound. You will be discovered all right by morning; by that time I shall be well beyond your reach. The truth may give you something to think over, but first answer me a question or two: Have your pickets been withdrawn from the road leading east?"
He remained silent, until I pressed the lips of the derringer against his cheek.
"Yes, damn you; I wouldn't tell, but I believe you know it already. What I want to know is who you are!"
"A question easily answered. I am a Yankee artillery-man, who was left for dead on the field yonder. I have been hiding on the Denslow plantation, waiting for night to afford me opportunity for escape beyond your lines. While secreted there I overheard enough of a conversation to learn your name as well as your purpose. But I was not in hiding here expecting to intercept you, for Colonel Denslow believed that, owing to the sudden movement of the army, you would be unable to escape from your staff duties long enough to keep your engagement. He expected, however, the arrival of an orderly at any moment ordering his immediate return to his regiment. I came here hoping to capture that orderly, and appropriate his horse and clothes, so as to facilitate my escape. I sincerely regret that you, instead, were the victim."
The man was uplifted upon one elbow, endeavoring vainly to distinguish my features in the darkness.
"To hell with your regrets," he swore roughly. "Do you mean to tell me that you know what our plans of operation are?"
"I know enough of them, at least, to make me particularly anxious to get away. Now stop that. Lieutenant; not another move; doubtless you know what this derringer contains; I will assuredly use it if necessary, and it feels to me like a hair-trigger. Put out your hands; no, hold them close together—so."
The utter uselessness of resistance was very plain, and, reckless as the fellow might have proven if opportunity served, he realized now clearly enough that death would probably be the penalty of refusal. I did a good job of lashing, thoroughly aware that if he once escaped, and succeeded in raising an alarm before morning, I was the one who would suffer. I greatly disliked gagging him, yet at any moment the belated orderly might ride past, and a single cry from the Lieutenant would mean release and pursuit.
The horse waited patiently, his nostrils still thrust down in the cool running water, his rein trailing. I turned him about, as I must ride directly past the Denslow plantation in my effort to escape, owing to the massing of troops to the westward. If I could rely on the word of the Lieutenant, all pickets had already been recalled from the opposite direction, and I would discover clear passage, although this might prove the long way round. I led the horse slowly forward, moving as noiselessly as possible along the turf by the side of the road, hoping thus to steal past beneath the concealing shadows of the trees. The men would never perceive me at that distance from the veranda, unless some unusual noise should reveal our passage; the greater danger of discovery lay with "Massa George" or the negro Joe, one or perhaps both of whom would very likely be with the waiting horses, near where the garden fence came out even with the road.
I advanced thus as far as the shed, seeing and hearing nothing in any way to alarm me; the house was unlighted, and I could perceive no movement in the darkness ahead, not even the restless motion of horses. I knew where these should be tethered, however, and holding my own animal firmly by the bit, my other hand grasping his nostrils, I led him cautiously forward beneath the blackness of the overhanging boughs. We must have advanced thus for a hundred feet or more, scarcely making a rustling in the short grass under-foot, when a horse neighed shrilly to our right. My horse as instantly stopped and flung up his head, the sudden, unexpected movement loosening my grip. As I hastened to restrain him, my hand struck the overhanging branch of a tree, rattling the leaves sharply. Instantly a dim figure rose up apparently in the very middle of the road.
"Who am dar?" It was the voice of the negro, startled, trembling, yet loud with alarm. "Massa George; Massa George, sah!"
He had not even then perceived me in the shadow, yet I durst not move an inch, and I could hear George hastily leap the fence. I swung silently up into the saddle, my first impulse being to drive in the spurs and ride recklessly. But the negro had located me now, and, encouraged by the near presence of his master, sprang directly to the horse's head. The fellow must have possessed the eyes of an owl to have even noted my shape and uniform under such conditions, for to me he was but the merest unrecognizable smudge, yet his shout of recognition came before I could attempt the first motion to escape.
"Fer de Lord's sake, if it ain't Massa Calvert! What fer yer try to fool dis nigger like dat, sah?"
His words awoke within me a sudden hope. Possibly amid that intense darkness I might pass muster, for long enough, at least, to gain some advantage; perhaps even to escape without being compelled to do him bodily injury. It must be either that, or else an instant struggle which could only add to my danger, no matter how it terminated. I was very nearly Dunn's size, for his uniform fitted me as though made to my measure, and I was sufficiently versed in local conditions for all immediate requirements of such a masquerade. My voice was the greatest peril, that and a possible light which might reveal my features. All this swept through my brain in a flash, so that I answered back even before young Denslow reached us.
"It's all right, Joe; my horse went lame back yonder, and the night is so dark I did n't even know I was here yet. What is the matter with the house that you don't show any light?"
The negro laughed loudly, evidently relieved in his own mind, and released his grip on the rein.
"Fore de Lord, Massa Calvert, dat was suah a good joke on you. Nebber did I tink you not know when you git to dis house. Why was it we not hab any light burning? 'Cause de Yankees done took all de oil, an' we ain't got no more to burn. Lor'! we ain't seen no manner o' light in dis yere house for most free weeks. We's jist felt our way 'round. I's bin in de dark so much I done got cat eyes, an' dat's how dis nigger done knowed you jist now. It am Massa Calvert, Massa George, an', shuar as you're alive, he was goin' right by de house, if I had n't a-stopped him—nebber even knowed he was yere yet."
Young Denslow, the dim outline of his figure that of a mere stripling, but standing rather stiffly erect, held out his hand.
"Glad you succeeded in making it, Calvert. We were becoming afraid you might not get away owing to the sudden advance of the troops. Is it true we have started on a movement by the left flank?"
"Yes, that report is all true enough," I replied striving to hold my voice as low as possible, as I could recall no marked peculiarity in the tones of my late antagonist to imitate; "the aides are riding in every direction with orders for a forced march. I went in and saw General Johnston as soon as I first heard the rumor, and explained to him exactly the situation here. The old man was very sympathetic, and as he had already met Jean, he arranged to send me out in this direction with his orders, and gave me a furlough of twenty-four hours in which to attend to my own affairs. I am to be in Minersville at the expiration of that time, no matter what it may cost in horse-flesh."
"What about the Tenth Georgia?"
"They take up the march at midnight, guarding Coyne's Battery."
"The hell! Then that means a hard ride for both Dad and me with little enough time to spare. But dismount, Calvert, and come up to the house. Here, let Joe take care of your horse, and find out what troubles him—got a stone in his hoof most likely."
The boy had his hand on my pommel, the negro still standing directly in front of the horse's head. What action to escape could I take? It seemed at that moment far easier to permit Fate to decide the play than to take it into my own hands. It was not in my heart to shoot down these unsuspecting men in cold blood, and yet there was no other way of getting clear. 1 slipped a revolver from the left saddle holster into the side pocket of my cavalry jacket, and swung reluctantly to the ground, determining to chance another act in this strange melodrama. As he clasped my arm the lad felt the Colt bulging out the close-fitting jacket.
"Travelling loaded, I see."
"Certainly; I am likely to be beyond the lines before morning."
"That's right, old boy," his voice suggestive of a laugh. "Not exactly the kind of a bridal tour that most people would seek, but needs must when the devil drives."
The entire unpleasantness of the situation dawned upon me with a shock at his words. In the excitement of swiftly succeeding events I had entirely forgotten that particular errand which had brought Lieutenant Dunn to this neighborhood. Here was a most awkward predicament, indeed,—the prearranged, hurried wedding between him and that young, sweet-faced girl, with the gray-blue eyes. The pleasant memory of her came before me instantly, the musical sound of her soft voice, with its delicate Southern accent, the pathetic pleading of her girlish expression, the carelessly ruffled hair, the indignant tone with which she had spoken of her coming lover. Merciful God! I was certainly up against a hard proposition. What could I do? How, even now, could I manage to escape from the coils steadily closing about me? My head was in a whirl; I was unable to think clearly.
Young Denslow, his hand still grasping my sleeve, his brain full of interest in the affair, was rattling off, in boyish fashion, a string of remarks, the meaning of which scarcely penetrated to the recesses of my bewildered mind. There appeared to me no path leading out from this labyrinth now, but through the killing of some one; yet every manly instinct within me revolted against cold-blooded murder. I was a soldier, but never an assassin. And surely there was yet an opportunity for escape—the very lateness of the hour, the urgent requirement for haste on the part of all concerned, the possibility that the necessary papers had not been procured, the girl's strong opposition to the ceremony. Surely, aided by all these, I might yet discover some means for averting the full consequences of this misfortune; ay, might even serve her a good turn by preventing her being forced into a marriage with Dunn. Anyway, I should be in no worse position on the porch than here, with the boy's hand on my arm. Indeed, almost before I had succeeded in reasoning the matter out thus far, we were at the steps, and I could perceive the outlines of two black figures rising up to greet me. It was the deep voice of the elder Denslow which spoke, his outstretched hand warmly grasping mine.
"The last minute, Calvert, my boy, the last minute. So we are to march at midnight, you say? Well, we can make it with hard riding, and I can go now with a relieved heart, knowing Jean will be well looked after while we are away. I had about decided to send George with her to-night to Fairview if worse came to worst, although I hardly thought you would fail us. Come up, my boy there are chairs here to be discovered by feeling after them in the dark. Jean is somewhere within hearing, already dressed for the ride, but the damned thieving Yanks have not left us a light about the house, nor very much of anything else. However, we can get along in the dark; I reckon the parson knows his lines without a book-ah, by the way, Chaplain Mordaunt, you must be acquainted with Lieutenant Dunn, as you are both stationed at headquarters?"
"I have seen him occasionally, although, as you may recall, he is but newly assigned."
"True; only your second week of staff duty, isn't it, Calvert? Well, we scarcely have time to discuss these matters now. There are more important affairs to be considered. You were satisfied with the legality of the papers, Chaplain?"
"Certainly; the license appears to be drawn in regular form. However, even if it were not, my authority in such time of war is ample."
"Good; then we shall have to dispense with an unnecessary ceremony, and get away as soon as possible. Jean, daughter."
There was no immediate response. A swift hope thrilled through me that she might have already fled, or have hidden herself within the darkened house. If so, what could I do? How could I assist in prolonging the delay? The hospitable Colonel had half forced me back into a vacated chair, and now remained facing me, standing shoulder to shoulder with his son on the upper step. The Chaplain remained seated close upon my left; all about us was latticework, thickly covered with trailing vines. The only way of escape would be by flinging both father and son headlong to the walk below, or perhaps a sudden dash back into the unknown interior. Only sheer desperation would warrant either effort, yet I half turned, but the shadows were so black I could not discern the whereabouts of the door. The Colonel spoke again, his voice growing sterner from authority.
"Jean, we are waiting here for you; Calvert Dunn has come."
I neither saw nor heard her as she came forward; when she answered, her slight figure suddenly appeared standing between her father and the Chaplain, a mere indistinct outline, yet so womanly as to send a sudden thrill to my heart.
"Very well, father; I am here to keep my word with Lieutenant Dunn."
CHAPTER V
CAUGHT IN THE TRAP
IT had come; the urgent necessity for instant action, for immediate decision, was upon me, and—I failed. I saw the Chaplain rise deliberately to his feet, and I struggled up also, fiercely gripping the back of my chair, half tempted to use it as a weapon with which to sweep the steps before me clear. Yet I hesitated, swayed by doubt, influenced by many emotions. What was right? What was best? What ought I to do?
I was unable to decide in that instant given me for decision. I realized this much-I must get away, not only in personal safety, but likewise without creating alarm, or leaving behind me any knowledge of the special message I hoped to carry with me across the river. To that end I could gladly sacrifice myself, all of my future if need should be, but had I any right to sacrifice her also? Would even the license of war exonerate me? The opportunity for an easy escape lay clear before me; merely a few brief words spoken in the darkness, the silent acting of a simple part, the riding away together, the others departing unsuspectingly to their several commands, the leaving of the uninjured girl within easy reach of Fairview which could not be far distant, then the spur, the river, and Rosecrans.
This programme appeared so easy, so tempting. It seemed as though everything had been shaped to this end, as if it were the will of Providence. Some one drew back the chairs, and a slender figure stood silently by my left side. I could not distinguish a feature of her averted face, but a vagrant breath of air blew a strand of soft hair against my cheek. Could I sacrifice her, even for such a cause? Suddenly, as if it were the whisper of the devil in my ear, came the controlling thought—she despises the man Dunn; she is being driven into this marriage against her will; possibly this very fraud on my part will best serve her, will eventually result in her final happiness. We would be together merely for an hour, or two hours; then she would be left safe in the care of friends, comprehending the deceit, angry with me, no doubt, yet nothing the worse for the adventure. It might even be that the marriage contracted under such peculiar circumstances would not be held as legal, while if it was, a divorce could be most easily obtained, on the ground of fraud, and it would remain in her memory afterwards merely as an unpleasant episode. What it might prove to me, I neither considered nor cared.
"You will join right hands."
How soft and small her hand was, how cold to the touch, and how it trembled beneath the clasp of my fingers! I can scarcely recall a word spoken; they came to me in the vaguest mumble of sound, conveying not the slightest meaning. I could see the broad shoulders of the Chaplain as he stood directly in front of us, his back to the steps; behind him appeared the dim outlines of the Colonel and Master George; I did not really perceive the girl at all, merely felt her cold hand lying unresponsive within mine. Once the drawling voice appeared to ask me something, repeating the question somewhat sharply before I could force my dry lips into the few necessary words of response. Then I heard her distinctly say, "I do," yet with an effort, as though the utterance nearly choked her. The very sound of these two words, as she thus spoke them filled with utter hopelessness, shocked me even then, and I loosened my clasp, permitting her hand to drop, as I stared toward her. The hot blood rushed to my head, every nerve tingling. Damned if I would be guilty of this cowardly thing! I would fight them all first!
"And now I pronounce you husband and wife; whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."
It was already too late! Too late! The evil was done, the act consummated. In darkness, in masquerade, pretending to be another, I stood there and married Jean Denslow. I was actually guilty of this low, despicable fraud on a woman; I had connived at this ungentlemanly act; I had permitted myself to sink to this unspeakable meanness. I do not comprehend now how I ever held my peace; how I met the outstretched hands of congratulation, what inane words I mumbled in reply. I was conscious merely of regret, humiliation, intense shame. She never came near me, never once spoke, but I heard her sob chokingly as she hid her face on her father's shoulder. Slowly the life came creeping back to me, and with it the realization of our position, a dim comprehension that the cowardly game must now be played out to the end. However inexcusable the fraud, it must now be turned to good account; results must in some measure justify the deceit. I gripped my hands on the chair-back, compelling myself to attend to what was going on about me. George had disappeared but I could hear the sound of horses being led forward over the grass below.
"Well, good-bye, little girl." It was the Colonel's voice. "The ride is n't a long one, and you can scarcely understand how greatly it will relieve me to know that you are safe in the care of friends."
"I say, Calvert, there does n't seem to be anything the matter with your horse," suddenly sang out the boy from below. "He'll carry you all right. What's keeping you and Jean? Don't you know we've got to get out of here?"
"Yes, come, Calvert," and the unsuspecting old Colonel grasped my arm. "Jean is waiting, and we must all of us be off."
It was accomplished mechanically, yet I remember assisting the girl into the saddle, slipping her little foot into the stirrup, my heart beating fast as I touched the arched instep, and felt her slight weight rest for an instant on my shoulder. All at once I apprehended the sweet charm of her young womanhood, coupled with an odd feeling of personal interest. My God! it was a strange situation! I had never even spoken to her; she had never once spoken to me—yet she was my wife. Some way the thought thrilled me as if I had received an electric shock. Jean Denslow was already actually mine; I could claim her by law; she bore my name—why, she did n't even know what my name was! The sense of humiliation seemed to leave me at the thought, and I even smiled at the humor of it as I swung up into my own saddle. Humor? oh, yes! But it would certainly prove no matter tor laughter when she once discovered the truth.
I recall the warm hand-clasps, the cheery words of good-bye, the hearty congratulations, to which we both remained strangely dumb, the several figures standing clustered at our horses' heads; then we rode forth alone, and, knowing nothing as to the direction in which Fairview lay, I permitted the lady's horse to take the lead slightly To my immense relief she drew rein sharply to the right, and we headed eastward. Unacquainted with the nature of the road we travelled, I hesitated to speed the horses anxious though I was to be well advanced before daylight, but she as instantly decided the matter by touching her mount with a light riding-whip, the gray mare under her breaking into a smart canter. Immediately I ranged up at her side, my heavier roan easily keeping the pace, as I permitted him to pick his own way. It was like riding blindfolded, so black was all ahead, with what appeared to be thick forest on either side; yet the road was evidently a well-travelled one, and our horses very seldom made a misstep. Once her high-spirited mare shied violently, so that I reached out, and hastily grasped her rein, but, so far as I could perceive, the slender figure scarcely swayed in the saddle, and her lips uttered no sound. At a steady stride we rode onward through the gloom in silence, an embarrassing constraint upon us both I could realize plainly enough those emotions which were swaying her, but she little comprehended the thoughts of the man at her side. Again and again I glanced toward her, my lips opening for speech, yet unable to utter the first syllable. I had in my heart the fear of a coward; I dreaded to confess the truth, and face her just indignation. Yet I was inevitably driven to it; there was nothing else for me to do, unless I should suddenly rein back my horse, ride swiftly away in the darkness, leaving her alone and undefended. That would be the act of a cur; it would insure me her hatred forever, and, deep down in my heart, I was already beginning to desire the future goodwill of this girl. I wanted her to respect my motives, to understand what it was which had driven me into such an act of deceit. Not even justified in my own mind, I yet dreamed I might possibly justify myself in some small degree before her. Once, as if the constrained silence had become unbearable, she ventured a common-place remark upon the black stillness of the night, to which I must have replied stiffly enough, for both immediately relapsed into silence; the only sound was made by our horses' hoofs, now pounding along a road grown hard and rocky as we steadily rose into higher altitudes. In the narrow bed of a stream we drew rein to permit the animals to drink thirstily. Feeling that I must now know something more definite as to this country we traversed, I began doubtfully to probe after the information.
"I rather expected to encounter pickets along the road," I began, staring about into the night. "Have they been withdrawn?"
I imagined she glanced toward me as if in surprise at my words, or rendered suspicious by the sound of my voice.
"All pickets in this direction were recalled last night, when General Huston returned to his brigade," she replied indifferently.
"Then we are already between the lines?"
"Neither army has ever been east, on this slope of the mountains, so far as I know. Two weeks ago Joe drove me over to Coulter's Landing after some supplies for the house, and the country at that time appeared to have been untouched even by foraging parties. I have heard of no movements in this direction since then."
"Haven't I heard there was a ford at Coulter's?"
"Just below the landing, yes; but it is narrow, and never safe when the water is at all high. Why, we crossed it together only last Summer on our way to Franklyn."
"To be sure; so we did. I have passed through so much since then that I have grown forgetful."
The horses lifted their heads, their wet nostrils dripping, and we rode up the opposite bank, noticing a star or two peeping shyly out from among the ragged clouds. The road uplifted somewhat sharply, but there were comparatively level reaches along which we galloped, riding closely side by side, so that I could feel the touch of her skirt against my leg. The faint gleam of the stars afforded me a slight glimpse of my companion sitting her horse easily, her hair blowing back beneath the rim of a coquettish hat, the soft oval of her face barely taking shape in the gloom. She was gazing directly ahead, apparently utterly unconscious of my near presence, every thought concentrated elsewhere. When was the end to come? Why was it I could not muster sufficient courage to speak, could not even determine what it was I desired to say? Surely I was not afraid of this helpless, slender girl. If I had done wrong it was for the cause of my country, and I had nothing now to fear except her anger. Why should I greatly care for that? Why should I shrink from revealment as a slave from the lash? Suddenly she brought the end upon herself, reining up her mare so sharply that, when I also came to a halt, we were facing each other, my horse rearing from the heavy pressure on his bit.
"What is it? Did you see something?"
"Nothing but that dead pine yonder," pointing toward the left. "We have ridden beyond the cut-off."
"Beyond—"
"Yes, a quarter of a mile beyond. What can be the matter with you to-night? Have you forgotten the way to your own home?"
There was a vague touch of suspicion in the voice, and she was leaning forward evidently striving in vain to distinguish my features in the darkness. An instant I hesitated, no satisfactory excuse coming to my lips. She touched her mare lightly with the whip, forcing her forward.
"Why does it take you so long to answer? You are not usually so dumb."
"I was surprised at having ridden beyond the turn; I—I must have been dreaming," I ventured, still striving to retard the inevitable exposure. But by now she had become convinced that something was wrong; had grown alarmed, indignant. I heard the sharp indrawing of her breath, and marked the uplifting of her hand as if to shade her eyes.
"You—you are not Calvert Dunn," she ejaculated swiftly. "Your voice is unlike his."
I stared at her, my lips dry, my tongue useless, even reeling myself tremble in the saddle.
"Tell me the truth! Who—who are you?" The girl's voice faltered and broke, her hands pulling so hard on the reins as to cause her restless mare to back away.
I was compelled to speak now, rapidly, my voice full of a sympathy and earnestness I made no effort to conceal. She appealed to me; outside her unfortunate situation, merely as a woman she appealed. Even the bravery with which she faced me, sitting there straight and slender in the saddle, was pathetic.
"Don't draw back," I said quickly. "Don't be afraid. Nothing will harm you. I pledge you the word and honor of a soldier that no unfriendly hand shall touch you, no word be spoken to which you need object. Only listen and I will explain all. It is true I am not Lieutenant Dunn, but you are personally as safe with me as you would be riding this road with him. I mean to take you to his people at Fairview, and leave you there entirely unharmed by this night's adventure."
"But—but who are you?"
"A soldier left wounded on the field, who, seeking to escape from capture, was compelled to assume this uniform."
"A—Yankee?" the question barely audible, yet the low voice expressive of intense horror.
"Yes, as you use the term," I admitted, yet even then scarcely comprehending what the word signified to her. "I am from the West, but belong to the Federal army."
Her figure seemed to sink down into the saddle, her head drooping forward.
"Are you so bitterly prejudiced as to believe all Northerners are unworthy? Can you not forget the color of the uniform for a single hour, and trust me to act justly?"
She straightened up instantly, gripping the saddle pommel, and staring toward me through the night.
"But—but," she sobbed, the full bewildering horror of it echoing in her voice. "We have been married! O Father of mercy—married to a Yankee!"
I put my hand out upon the bit of her mare, leaning toward her in my eagerness to explain, determined to finish before she could again interrupt. Better a confession of the whole truth now, except that I durst not trust her with the news I hoped to bear across the river.
"I beg you listen to me; listen to all I have to say. If you fully comprehend the situation you may not condemn me so completely. I know I have done wrong have been guilty of a cowardly act—yet it is not beyond remedy, and I have been driven to it for the preservation of life. Believe me when I say that I respect you; that I will treat you with all honor; only hear what I have to say in my own defence. To be a Federal soldier is not a crime, nor evidence of a debased manhood. That we should differ in time of war does not mean that all which is gentlemanly should be enrolled upon the one side. There are true, honest, upright men wearing both uniforms—the difference between us is political. I am in the Northern army because I am a Northerner, because I have been educated in the principles of that section of the country, and have been called upon to fight to sustain them. Surely you cannot despise me for that alone. That would not be just, nor womanly. I am going to appeal to you simply as a man, not as a partisan. Forget that I was born north, and you south of Mason and Dixon's line, and judge my actions from a fairer standard. Can you do this?"
She did not move nor answer, yet her very silence gave me renewed courage.
"I know you can and will. You have the face and eyes of a woman to be trusted, to be confided in—"
"How do you know that?"
"Because I saw you yesterday, while you were talking with the negro Joe, in the tool-shed."
"You—you were there?—you overheard?"
"Yes," I confessed unwillingly, for her tone was a rebuke. "But I was not an eavesdropper from choice. I was there in concealment, and had fallen asleep. Your voices awoke me."
I knew she was staring toward me, still dazed by the discovery of who I was, unable to decide what to do or say, although her feature, were utterly indistinguishable. At last she seemed to gain sufficient control of her breath to falter,
"You may go on; I—I will listen."
"It is only a short story. I was a member of Reynolds's battery, having enlisted from Illinois. I have been in the service nearly two years. During that last battle yonder, your soldiers charged and captured our guns. In the struggle I was struck in the side by a splinter, and rendered unconscious by a blow on the head. I chanced to fall beneath the cannon, which had been so demolished as to be rendered useless, and lay there like one dead until late at night. When consciousness returned I realized the horrors of my situation, as well as the certainty of capture and imprisonment if I remained there until daylight. Finding myself able to move, I crawled to a near-by stream, attended as best I could to my wounds, and, remembering a vague glimpse of your house down the valley, caught as our battery went forward into action, I naturally turned in that direction, seeking for some place of concealment until another night-fall."
She did not change her posture, yet as I paused I could plainly hear her rapid breathing.
"It was a hard journey, yet I finally crept into your tool-shed just before daybreak, and fell asleep. Your conversation with the negro aroused me, and after you had both gone, and the night came to hide my movements, I succeeded in procuring some food. Before starting to find my way into the Federal lines, I chanced to overhear some conversation on the front veranda, and learned that an orderly was expected to arrive at any moment from the west. Realizing the advantage of possessing his horse and uniform, I resolved to waylay the rider. To accomplish this I made my way back as far as the creek crossing, and lay in wait there. It was not long before a mounted man came down the opposite bank, and stopped to water his horse in the stream. Ten minutes later he was lying there helpless, securely gagged and bound, and I was leading his horse forward, hoping to steal past your plantation unobserved in the darkness."
"But—but it was not the orderly you attacked," she exclaimed. "It was Calvert Dunn."
"Yes, it was Lieutenant Dunn, but I assure you he was left unhurt. What followed I think you already know: how I was discovered by Joe and your brother; how in the gloom they very naturally mistook me for Dunn; how they insisted upon my coming up to the house. I was compelled to yield to their insistence, or else fight them; I never thought at that moment of Dunn's special mission. It merely seemed as if the mistake in identity gave me an opportunity for escape. You realize how all the rest was forced upon me; there appeared no possible way to avoid what happened. When I first arose to my feet at the request of the Chaplain, it was with the intention of knocking your father and brother down, and making a mad rush for the horses. But I hesitated a moment too long. Even as I stood there, bracing myself for the struggle, the Chaplain began, and you took my hand. Then do you comprehend what induced me to remain silent?"
I paused in vain; there was no sound, no movement.
"It was because I knew how you dreaded that marriage with Calvert Dunn."
"And," she burst forth, "did you imagine I would prefer one with you?"
"Certainly not, but it saved you from him and from what might have proven a life-time of misery. You need never see me again, and any court would immediately grant you a divorce on the ground of fraud. I even doubt if such a marriage would be held legal."
"But—but, you do not understand," her words almost sobs. "I have ridden away with you. I am here alone with you now."
"My purpose is to leave you at Fairview. It will require no more than two hours from the time we left your people before we arrive there. No one need ever know the truth, excepting those anxious to protect your good name. You may trust me implicitly."
"Trust you—you! What, after all this? After your lies, your eavesdropping, your spying, your tricking of me into this awful situation? God forgive me! Married to a Yankee! Release my rein!"
I hesitated, the fierce flaming up of her anger so suddenly paralyzing my senses. There was a swift uplifting of her arm to a level with my head.
"I mean it! You thought me helpless, and—and in your power, but I am not. You drop that rein, or I'll fire. Oh, I can do it, you—you miserable Yankee spy! I hate and despise you!"
She drew back her horse, wheeling the animal about, yet turning in the saddle herself so as to keep me in view.
"I do not know why I do not kill you," she exclaimed, her voice growing bitter with anger. "It is what I should do; you deserve it by your own confession, and the one shot would release me. Married to a Yankee!" every syllable hissing from her lips. "The very thought crazes me and puts murder in my heart. I am going to Fairview alone—alone! Do you hear that? If you dare attempt to follow me I will shoot you in your tracks as I would a dog, you low-down, Yankee cur."
With a single swift leap forward, both horse and rider disappeared in the gloom.
CHAPTER VI
THE ACCIDENT
SURPRISED I certainly was by this unexpected outburst. Scarcely realizing previously the indomitable spirit of the girl, before the sound of her mare's flying hoofs had ceased to echo along the hard road, I had given my roan the rein, and was spurring speedily after. I intended to keep within sound at least, nor would I desert her until she was safe in the care of friends. We were between the lines of two hostile armies, in a debatable country, where every possible form of danger might lurk, where bands of irresponsible guerillas, deserters, and fleeing conscripts, roamed unchecked by any authority, where no woman alone in the night could be considered safe for an instant. No fear of her threatening pistol kept me even thus far to the rear, but I sympathized with her, comprehended her outraged feelings, realizing how, in that moment of discovery, she must hate my very presence. And she was right; I had acted the part of a cur; I deserved to be cut by the lash of her tongue, even to be shot dead, if I dared so much as to touch her. Yet it hurt me, hurt me more than I had before supposed any denunciation by a woman possibly could, and I spurred forward grimly, with heart hotly pulsing. I was everything she said, yet it had not come home to me in full force, in all its hideousness, until she said it. Her bitter words stung like a whip, stung all the more sharply because I knew they were deserved.
I rode silently, keeping a tight rein, so as not to gain upon her too rapidly, guided straight by the sound of her swift galloping. The night settled down, darker if possible than before, even the few stars which had been visible, disappearing behind the canopy of clouds. I could see nothing ahead except an occasional spark of fire struck off from the flinty rock by her mare's flying feet. All else was the void of night, out of which arose alone the sound of our reckless riding. It seemed to me we must have fully covered that quarter of a mile back to where she had indicated the branch road as leading down toward Fairview yet there was no turning, or pause in the swift pace. Apparently the little mare was being urged desperately forward through the black void, headed directly west along the same ridge road we had previously travelled together. There was an opening between the walls of rocks to my left, visible even in that darkness, and I drew up the roan sharply, swinging myself instantly to the ground, and feeling about hastily with my feet for the ruts of a travelled roadway. Ay! this must surely be the place: here beyond all doubt ran the way leading south into the valley. There could be no other road branching off at this point. Yet the girl was riding directly westward, riding at full speed, her horse's hoofs sounding fainter each moment.
I stood there an instant, puzzled, uncertain. Then the truth came to me in a flash. She suspected I had overheard more than I had confessed; that I knew of the projected movement of the Gray army, and that it was now my purpose to warn the Blue. That was why she had called me "spy"; that was why she was now riding straight on at top speed, desperately, through the night, bearing a message of warning to Johnston. With a single bound I was back in the saddle, bent forward over the roan's neck, and driving in the spur. I must overtake her, and I could do it. I was astride of far the better horse, stronger, longer limbed, and I must ride as recklessly as she. I was conscious of little except the necessity of the moment, pushing into the black void as though astride a thunderbolt, the night air whistling past my face, my legs gripping the straining body of the roan, my spur constantly urging him to greater effort. And he responded nobly. Slowly, steadily, remorselessly I began drawing in on the chase; I could see nothing, but my ears gave evidence. That she also realized what was occurring behind became sufficiently clear a moment later; out of that shrouding blackness in my front winked two red spits of fire, and I heard a bullet whistle shrilly as it zipped past my head. But I thundered on regardless, merely extending my body along the roan's neck; there was small danger from such shots and I comprehended anew the desperation of the girl, the determination with which she sought to thwart me. A stern chase is proverbially a long one, and I must have b»en still fully a hundred feet in her rear, speeding like a whirlwind, my horse running with belly low, and neck extended, the foam from his nostrils blowing back in my face, when there was a stumble, a cry, the dull shock of a fall I reined up with a suddenness which nearly unseated me and swung down from the saddle, peering and listening. Some accident had occurred—but what? There was no sound, not even a moan or struggle yonder in the dark. Slowly pushed forward on foot, the tired, panting animal trailing along after me.
All excitement and exhilaration of the chase were gone. There was nothing in my heart now but sympathy for this girl; her supreme effort to be of service to her cause had aroused my deepest respect. What had happened to her? In a measure I already knew—her laboring mare had stumbled in the darkness, and gone down, flinging her headlong. That she had been hurt, seriously hurt, the silence seemed to indicate—but how seriously? I went forward quaking, my heart beating like that of a timid girl in the dark. I came first upon the gray mare, a motionless smudge in the road, lying head under, in such a posture I knew instantly the animal's neck had been broken. Fully ten feet beyond the girl lay, just at the edge of the track, her face upturned to the clouded skies dropped upon my knees, drew off her gauntlet glove and felt her wrist. There was a noticeable pulse; an instant later I was enabled to distinguish the faint pulsations of the heart. Unconscious though she was, the terrible fall had not killed her. There was water in the canteen dangling at my saddle bow, and I ran back to where the roan stood, and began hastily to bathe the white face, the contour of which I could barely perceive. Very slowly the returning breath came in greater volume through the parted lips, and I lifted her slightly upon one arm, with head resting against my shoulder. I felt a slight trembling of the slender form, and realized, although I could see nothing, that her eyes were open. Suddenly she wrenched herself away from me, sitting erect, holding herself in that posture of protest by pressing her hands against the ground.
"Am—am I hurt?" she questioned, her voice tremulous, her mind apparently still dazed from the shock.
"You have had an ugly fall, and were rendered unconscious, but I do not think you are severely injured."
"And my horse?"
"The mare broke her neck."
She was silent for a moment, her breath rapid from excitement; then her head drooped, and I caught the sound of half-suppressed sobs.
"Please do not cry," I urged, with all a man's fear of a breakdown. "I am very sure you are not badly hurt, and you are too brave a girl tc give way like this."
In an awkward effort at comfort I placed my hand gently upon her shoulder. The slight familiarity aroused her instantly.
"How dare you touch me," she exclaimed, all signs of weakness vanishing. "I do not wish either your help or sympathy, you despicable Yankee spy."
"But listen first—"
"No, I will not listen; your words, your very presence is an insult. I would have killed you if I could; I will kill you now if you speak to me again, or make any attempt to follow me."
I was aware she yet held the revolver in her hand, andrealized she was keyed to the point of using it, yet I was not silenced.
"Where do you intend going?"
"That is no affair of yours. On foot I am helpless to thwart you, Mr. Spy, so now you can let me alone."
"Then it is true that you were attempting to ride for the Confederate lines?"
She did not answer, but endeavored to struggle weakly to her feet. Scarcer was her slender figure erect when she uttered a sharp cry of anguish. and sank limply back again. both hands clasped about her ankle.
"What is it?"
"My—my ankle; oh, it pains me so!"
"You must permit me to examine it," I said firmly, stooping forward as I spoke. fully determined now to have my own way. "You had a hard fall; it may be sprained, or even broken. In either case the shoe must be removed immediately, before it begins to swell."
The pain and helplessness of her position had made woman of her again. Doubtless she realized the utter futility of further resistance, for she silently permitted me to unlace the shoe, and run my hand softly over the injured ankle. I could feel her wince at the pain of my touch, her fingers clinched tightly.
"It is merely a sprain," I announced at last. "I am very certain no bone has been broken. However, the injury is certainly had enough, and precludes any thought of walking."
She stared toward me through the darkness, conscious of her inability to revolt, yet with the old spirit of rebellion still dominant.
"Then leave me here; it will not be long until morning."
"I shall do nothing of the kind. Do you consider me devoid of every attribute of manhood? You would not be safe here alone, even if uninjured. We are between the lines of two hostile armies, in a debatable land where guerillas and bushwhackers must be numerous enough. Not if I have to remain here with you until daylight, and thus face almost certain capture, will I desert you now. I want you to do what is right, and do it willingly. If you refuse I shall be obliged to use my greater strength to compel obedience."
"What do you mean? What is it you plan for me to do?"
"I intend taking you upon my own horse as far as Fairview, and I will leave you there safe with your friends."
"And—and then?"
"Then, of course, I propose riding at once for the lines of my own army."
She drew a quick breath, straightening her shoulders.
"And do you imagine I will ever permit that?" she questioned fiercely "I am a Southern girl, armed, and I know what you mean to do, Mister Spy."
I stood up before her quietly in the gloom.
"You can certainly shoot me if you wish," I acknowledged soberly. "Perhaps you might be justified in such an act. I am not going to disarm you, nor make any effort to prevent your doing as you desire. But if you do not shoot me, I intend doing my very best to take you safely to Fairview."
I think we were there for a long moment, motionless, speechless, staring toward each other's dim shadow through the darkness. Neither face was sufficiently visible for recognition, yet I could imagine the expression upon hers, as she sat thus, desperately clasping the revolver in her nervous fingers, swayed by fierce emotion, yet helpless to stand alone upon her feet. I was not at all certain what she might do at such a moment of temptation, driven to it by a vivid sense of her own wrongs, as well as the urgent demand of her cause. She was a woman of strong will, of unquestioned courage, of deep conviction; scarcely more than a girl in years, it is true, yet with fighting blood in her veins, and an honest hatred for me in her heart. It was a somewhat ticklish situation, yet assuredly no time in which to hesitate.
"Come," I said, at last, holding out my hand, "Every moment of delay only serves to increase your suffering. I am going to lift you onto the horse."
She shrank back as though to avoid my touch, her movement picturing her intense aversion. It angered me, and, reckless of all consequences, I bent instantly down, and lifted her slight form in my arms. To my intense surprise she made no resistance, no struggle, no effort to break away. Her head rested against my arm, with face averted, but I could feel a shudder run through her body, as if a sudden reaction had brought with it weakness. I strode with my light burden to the side of the patiently waiting roan, finding place for her sound foot within the dangling stirrup.
"You will be compelled to ride man-fashion," I announced quietly. "I doubt if you could sit the saddle in any other way; but the night will protect you from observation. Kindly assist me in every way you can."
Whether it was my calm insistence, or merely her own sense of inability to resist longer, I do not know, but, for a single instant, I felt the weight of her hand upon my shoulder, and then she had found seat in the saddle, her head bowed forward, her hands clasping the pommel, as if the pain and exertion had left her faint. Somewhere in the passage, the uplifting, the revolver had slipped from her fingers, and then unnoticed into the blackness of the road. Without uttering a word I shortened the stirrup leather to meet her requirements, fastening the one opposite back, so it could not dangle against her injured ankle. Then I wet a silk neckerchief discovered in the pocket of the jacket I wore, sousing the cloth with water from the canteen, and bound it securely about the aching, swollen foot. If she realized what was being done, she gave no sign, and only as I grasped the horse's rein, and started forward on foot, did the girl raise her head in any sign of life. She swayed unsteadily to the first movements of the horse, and I glanced back apprehensively.
"Had I better bind you into the saddle?"
"No," the voice barely audible. "I shall not fall."
There was a long pause during which I could distinguish the sound of her breath coming almost in sobs; then she asked in sudden wonderment,
"Are—are you going to walk—all the way?"
"Certainly."
Again I could plainly distinguish the sob of her rapid breathing.
"I—I thank you."
That was all, yet I cannot fitly express the comfort, the encouragement, these few falteringly spoken words brought to me. They were so unexpected, so significant of the final awakening of her more womanly nature, as to yield me instantly a fresh vision of the girl. She had recognized kindness, even in an enemy, and had proven fair-minded enough to respond generously. Whatever might occur between us hereafter, she would never be able to remember me as before. I had been considerate to her, and she had openly acknowledged the consideration, yet I retained sufficient good sense to remain quiet: to push on silently through the black night, the roan plodding steadily at my heels. I did not even flatter myself that this slight outburst of gratitude would long endure. The old, disquieting thoughts would certainly soon recur to her mind-the memory of my treachery, my intentions, and, worse than all, my unfortunate relationship with her. Yet I had enjoyed that one glimpse into the deeps of her better nature, and remained content. She was certainly not one to brood over wrongs, to fan hatred, to refuse forgiveness; I even wondered vaguely if she were not secretly glad to be saved from Calvert Dunn, even at so great a cost.
The return journey proved exceedingly slow, for the intense pain she suffered left her weak, and I durst not move faster than a walk, ever keeping watchful eye upon the dim outline of her form swaying in the saddle; yet we had not passed the branch road by as great a distance as I had supposed in our wild riding, and a comparatively few moments of steady plodding brought us to the cleft in the rocks.
"This is the road, is it not?"
She uplifted her head wearily.
"Yes; it is not far now to Fairview."
The path led downward, but not steeply, winding somewhat crazily among rocks and trees, until we finally emerged upon the smooth grass land of the lower valley. The silence here was profound, the brooding night seeming even more dense and lonely than upon the open ridge above. I felt my uncertain way forward, until the narrow road suddenly ended before a high gate. This I succeeded in opening without much difficulty, and we followed a gravelled driveway, which led circling to the front of what appeared in the gloom to be a house of considerable size. It was wrapped in darkness, no gleam of light anywhere giving evidence of occupancy. As I hesitated an instant at the foot of the steps leading upward to the front door, I felt her extended hand touch my shoulder.
"What are you going to say?—how explain my being here alone with you?"
I glanced back toward her, wishing I could read the meaning of her eyes, the expression of her face.
"I was merely intending to name myself as a Confederate officer, a friend of Lieutnant Dunn, intrusted by him to bring you here for safety, owing to his having been suddenly ordered out on special duty."
"And—and my accident?"
"Your horse stumbled in the darkness, and fell, in consequence of which I was compelled to convey you on my own."
She drew a deep breath of relief.
"Yes, that will do—that will be best now; they need never know the whole truth."
I waited for an instant, hoping she would be led to add something more, but her lips remained silent. The expression of her face could not be seen, yet I knew she was leaning slightly forward, as though seeking vainly to decipher my features in the gloom.
"I feel that you have sufficient reason to dislike me," I began, anxious to uncover, if possible, her true feeling.
"I know I have, and yet I do not," she exclaimed impulsively, and as though surprised at her own frankness. "I cannot explain why; I ought to hate you for what you have done. Yet in all this trouble you have proven yourself kind, thoughtful, considerate, and I can only feel mortified, hurt, and regretful at my present helplessness."
"It is very good of you to confess even that."
"Oh, no, there is no goodness in it. I am simply accustomed to speaking the truth under all circumstances. It is an unpleasant habit acquired in childhood. You are nothing to me, and never can be; I would do everything in my power to thwart your present purpose; I believe I could shoot you down if I were still armed, and I know I would denounce you here and now, if there was any one at hand able to make you prisoner. We remain enemies, but—but, in some unaccountable way, I cannot personally hate you."
"You mean it is the Yankee, and not the man you war against?"
"I am certainly enlisted against your cause; nor have I any real reason to respect you otherwise."
"You consider me guilty then of deliberate treachery toward you?"
Her clear, accusing eyes were apparently gazing toward my shrouded face.
"Was it anything else?"
The blunt question came so swiftly that I stood hesitating. She was so frankly outspoken, so uncompromisingly direct, as to confuse me, yet in truth scarcely permitting any time for answer.
"What was it except treachery? You came to us falsely wearing that uniform which we respect; you came pretending to be another man; you obtained entrance to the sanctity of our home under an assumed name; you deliberately tricked me into a most unhappy and compromising position. Could any right-minded woman ever forgive all this? Is what you have done justified even by Yankee ethics?"
"No," I acknowledged gravely. "All the rest might be justified by the necessities of war, but not the personal injury which I have done you. Yet I am going to make that wrong as easy to remedy as I possibly can; I am going away now, the very moment I can feel assured you are in the care of friends. It is not at all probable we shall ever meet again, and any court will give you instant release. But first I desire to say this: Amid all the trials of to-night you have appealed to me, have won my deepest admiration and respect. I cannot bear to feel, however much it might be deserved, that you utterly despise me."
"I acknowledge I do not; I believe what you have told me, that you merely yielded to circumstances in the hope of saving yourself, and thus gaining opportunity to perform what you consider an imperative duty."
"I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saying that. Before we finally part would you accept my hand?"
I knew she straightened stiffly back in the saddle, her hands pressed against the pommel.
"Oh, no, I could not do that. You have no right to ask such a thing; not while you continue to wear falsely that uniform; not while you intend riding directly away from here planning to do injury to my people."
I bowed, and turned away, hat in hand, toward the steps. Her voice halted me.
"Be—before you knock," she questioned doubtfully, "would you tell me your name?"
"Certainly, you will need to know that; I had forgotten. I am Elbert King."
"An—an officer?"
"Not commissioned; merely a sergeant of artillery."
Whatever her secret thoughts might have been, they were securely hidden in silence and darkness. Young as she was in years she had already learned the lesson of control.
"I thank you; that was all."
I knocked twice before receiving any reply; then shuffling feet sounded within, and the voice of an aged man asked anxiously who was there.
"An officer of the Tenth Georgia Cavalry," I replied readily. "I have a lady with me who has been injured by a fall from her horse."
I heard him unbar the heavy door, opening it barely wide enough to peer cautiously forth. He had no light, yet I stood so close he doubtless was able to perceive my uniform. Before either of us could exchange words, the clear voice of the girl sounded from below.
"It is all right. Judge Dunn; I am Jean Denslow."
Our situation was explained in a few sentences, and, the Judge guiding me, I lifted her slender figure in my arms and bore her unresisting into the broad hallway. As he disappeared in a wheel chair propelled by a negro, seeking a light and assistance, I remained looking down to where I had deposited her on a comfortable haircloth couch.
"Is there anything more I can do?"
"No, nothing; I would much rather you would go before the others come."
"That will probably be best," reluctantly. "Yet I am beginning to wish I might come back again."
I heard the quick indrawing of her breath, but no spoken word.
"You will answer nothing?"
"Only that I wish to forget this night utterly, utterly. If you are indeed a gentleman you will understand, and go."
There was certainly nothing more to linger for, nothing more to be said. I heard the stiff rustle of a dress on the stair, and knew her friends were coming down. My own night's work yet remained unaccomplished, and was urgent. I passed swiftly out and down the steps.
CHAPTER VII
NEWS FOR ROSECRANS
IHAD ample time in which to reflect over all these occurrences as I urged my willing horse back along the valley road. The rest and the slow walk had revived the jaded muscles of us both, and the roan started off at a brisk trot the moment I swung into the saddle. I felt perfectly safe, so far as Jean Denslow was concerned. She certainly could no longer ride, and, to the best of my knowledge, there was no one at Fairview who could be trusted to depart westward with any message of warning to the Confederate commander. The girl herself would certainly never give up the effort quietly, and somehow I continued to feel that back of her womanly gentleness there was a firm purpose, and some well-defined plan. Yet what could she do? The possibility of her accomplishing anything in her present condition appeared so remote that I finally dismissed it entirely from my mind. As for myself, I intended following the east road at least as far as the ford at Coulter's Landing. Once safely beyond the river, I could soon find my way into the protection of the Federal lines.
I rode with sufficient caution, yet as rapidly as the condition of the roan would warrant. The night remained densely black, but I had learned to feel confident in my horse's keeping the path, and pushed straight ahead through the gloom, trusting implicitly to his instinct. Nothing occurred of special import, either in the valley. or along the ridge. and the faint gray of coming daylight already streaked the lowering sky in our front as we trotted down the slope to the Landing. My own immediate duty was perfectly clear, and I pressed forward to its performance without great consideration, watchful for danger, determined to bear my message direct to headquarters, but otherwise giving my surroundings little heed. Somehow my entire thought, as we thus pounded on through the night, remained back yonder with that injured girl at Fairview. Her face was constantly before me, as I leaned forward. striving to peer into the shadows ahead,—what a happy, mocking, girlish face it would be under better conditions than those amid which I had known her. Those blue-gray eyes could be wells of mirth, and there was an irresistible charm of piquancy about her manner. I had never before met with lady a personality; even under stress, and in the midst of grave peril. she was unable to conceal entirely her real sunshiny nature. Frank, truthful, outspoken, warm-hearted, she had made an impression upon me not easily forgotten. And this young woman was legally my wife! Somehow the thought sent the hot blood of youth rioting through my veins. Of course the relationship was no more than a mere name. It was not to be dwelt upon even in thought, and would be promptly dissolved. It was, as I well knew, a condition achieved by fraud and despicable deceit, yet, nevertheless, the fact remained that there was now this tie existing between us. And she actually neither hated nor despised me for what I had done. She would have said otherwise plainly enough had she so felt; there could he no doubt as to that—she had confessed only as she had been compelled. Over and over again I reviewed the words which had passed between us, reading into them much that never was there, and dwelling in memory upon the accent of her voice, the guarded secret of her eyes. If I had never seen her in the full flush of daylight as it flooded the shed, revealing the charming girl face, framed by the loosely gathered hair, and illumined by those wonderful eyes of blue-gray, no such recollection would have lingered both to perplex and interest me. She would have simply passed out of my thought, as many another had already done, or else remained merely a vague and indistinct remembrance. But now she was a tantalizing reality, her girlish face and form continually haunting me, her inscrutable eyes ever calling me back, the soft. Southern accent of her voice music to my memory.
There was nothing whatever at Coulter's to obstruct my progress, a mere shack of a house standing on the river's bank, a blacksmith shop, and a small store. At this early hour no sign of life was visible, not even a dog barked, and I followed the poorly marked road, which circled sharply to the left for a hundred yards, and ended at the water's edge. So far as could be discovered the opposite bank was equally deserted, and, after permitting the roan to drink all I considered safe in his heated condition, I made the passage, the water where deepest wetting the horse's belly. The main roadway led directly northward, but, perhaps a quarter of a mile beyond the ford, I came upon a branch heading in the direction I desired to go, and, spurring my mount into a swifter stride. turned into it. The sun was reddening the sky by this time. our surroundings becoming plainly visible. The country traversed was rough, the road running along a break in the broken lands bordering the valley, with bits of thick wood on either hand, and numerous outcropping rocks. It would have been difficult of passage in the darkness, but now in daylight it offered littIe obstruction, the surroundings of the track leaving us comparatively safe from observation. Two hours later. still urging the tired steed remorselessly forward, I arrived at a cross-roads, and a Federal picket.
So sudden was the unexpected encounter that I barely halted within range of his gun, the startled fellow so convinced the enemy was upon him I expected a shot before I could begin explanations. He was a soldier of the Forty-second Illinois, Sheridan's Division: and, after five minutes of controversy, the boyish-looking corporal, who came running forward at the sentry's first call, consented to escort me in person to his regimental headquarters. From the Colonel's tent I was very promptly passed beyond to where Sheridan was taking breakfast on the rude porch of a log house, several of his staff clustered about him. Here I passed through some minutes of rapid questioning, and was finally despatched westward, astride a fresh horse, and accompanied by an aide. It was slightly after eight o'clock when we arrived in the presence of Rosecrans. For a moment the General scanned the brief note handed him by the aide; then he looked up, carefully scrutinizing my face with his quiet gray eyes.
"What is your name?"
"King, sir."
"You claim to have been a sergeant in Reynolds's Battery, I understand?"
"Yes, sir."
He turned quickly to an officer at the end of the table.
"Morton, step outside, and request Lieutenant McDermott to come here for a moment."
We waited in silence, the General nervously rustling some loose papers about on the table before him, and whispering short, snappy sentences to a man in a major's uniform seated beside him. Perhaps ten minutes thus elapsed before Morton returned with his man. Rosecrans glanced up inquiringly at the latter, and then over toward me.
"Lieutenant," he said quietly, "kindly inform us if you have ever seen this man before."
The officer thus addressed stepped over toward me, confused by the light, as well as the Confederate uniform I wore, then his bronzed face broke into a smile, and he extended his hand.
"By Heavens, King, but I am glad to see you alive and safe again; we had you marked down as 'killed, or missing,' and there are mighty few of us left."
"He belonged to you, then?" It was the voice of the General, breaking in impatiently upon our greeting.
"This man is Sergeant Elbert King, of Reynolds's Battery, sir," answered McDermott, turning instantly toward him, yet still retaining my hand clasped tightly within his own.
"Very well; now, Sergeant King, we are prepared to listen to your story."
I told it swiftly, realizing the value of time, and inspired by the interest I immediately perceived depicted in the faces clustered about. I related merely what they needed to know from the military view-point, leaving out all reference to the girl, except to mention that she was the cause of Lieutenant Dunn’s night ride. At the end of my narrative both Rosecrans and the Major questioned me sharply, but I was able to answer most of their queries with convincing clearness.
"You report," pursued the questioning Major finally, "that the plan, as you understood it, was to double the Confederate right wing to the rear past their centre last night; then, that during to-day, and under protection of those bluffs yonder, the centre will also be moved to the left, thus massing their entire fighting force just back of Minersville soon after dark, with the intention of hurling it in solid mass against our unprepared right flank at daybreak to-morrow? Do I state this correctly?"
"That was my understanding, sir."
"Yet our pickets have reported no movement apparent in their front; camp-fires were burning the full length of the Confederate lines from Minersville to Coulter's Landing all through the night."
"Then the most of them must have been dummy fires, sir, for I rode from Denslow’s plantation to Coulter's without encountering a single man. I am positive that after midnight there was not a Confederate company left on duty east of Salter's Creek. A few men may have been detailed to keep the fires going, but their regiments were certainly already on the march westward."
Rosecrans was leaning stiffly back in his chair, tapping on the table with the blunt end of a pencil, his keen eyes constantly studying my face. Suddenly he glanced over toward the group of officers standing clustered in the doorway.
"Captain Geer, were any of your scouts across the river last night?"
"Daniels, sir."
"Bring him in."
He arrived shortly, still rubbing his eyes, as though just awakened from sleep, as odd-appearing a specimen of the typical mountain white as ever I saw,—long, loosely jointed limbs, narrow, stooped shoulders, bushily whiskered face intensely solemn in expression and strangely wrinkled, yet ornamented with keen blue eyes containing some shrewd humor in their depths. His clothes were as nondescript as his appearance, and he came slouching forward carelessly, his gaze wandering over the group gathered in the room.
"Daniels," and the General's stern voice instantly commanded his attention, "Captain Geer tells me you were across the river during the night. What did you discover?"
"Wal, Gin'ral," he piped out in a mere squeak of a voice, which sounded funny enough, although no one laughed, "I reckon I did n't pick up nothin' worth talkin' 'bout. Long maybe 'bout ten o'clock, ther night bein' tol'ble dark, I got on ther off side o' a log, an' sorter drifted with ther current, steerin' a bit, o' course, till I come in agin ther south shore. I reckon I clumb out maybe fifty feet east o' ther mouth o' Salter Crick, whar bushes grow clar down to ther edge o' ther water. I got ashore all right, an' wormed my way up to ther top o' ther bank, but thet was 'bout all I did do. Damn if I ever saw sich a picket line afore as them Rebs hed. Thar was n't a hole that a black cat could 'a crawled through. It made me think thet somethin' was happenin' fer sure, but every time I tried ter git out o' thet bunch 'o trees I run up agin a picket. I tried ter crawl up along ther crick even, wadin' in ther water under ther bank, but thet was no good. So long 'bout three o'clock I decided thet maybe I might better be gittin' back an' over to this side afore it got light."
"And you neither saw nor heard anything?"
"Not a blame lot, anyway. I heerd a battery goin' 'long, the fellers cussin' an' lickin' their hosses somethin' scand'lous; an' thar was a conside'ble mass o' cavalry marchin' behind 'em, fer their things was jingling, an' they stopped to water the bosses in the crick. I could n't git near 'nough to hear their talk. Ye see, Gin'ral, it was a line 'o fires what kept me back more'n the pickets, fer thar wan't a place but what was lit up. Thar was sure some sorter movement goin' on thar, but I could n't make head ner tail to it, 'cept that all them troops that I saw was marchin' west."
There was a long silence, Rosecrans tapping the table nervously with his pencil, his eyes gazing out of the open door, his forehead creased with thought. Then he spoke rapidly, his mind evidently cleared for action.
"This looks decidedly serious to me, gentlemen, and I feel sufficient faith in Sergeant King's report to act immediately upon it. If it be true that Johnston is massing against our right, and has left the ford at Coulter's unguarded, this offers us an opportunity for a countermarch, if we only move swiftly enough. Hand me the maps, Major."
He studied these intently, measuring certain distances, asking a few rapid questions of various staff officers clustered about, and jotting down their replies.
"I am fully aware of the danger involved in dividing our force in the presence of the enemy," he said, at last, lifting his eyes to the faces anxiously watching him, "but to my mind, gentlemen, the peril will be even greater if we permit the enemy to carry out their present plans unchecked. If at this juncture we can only strike unexpectedly in their rear, we shall win. The aid of surprise will be with us, and it is worth much to an army just to feel that they are on the aggressive. Smiley, ride to McGirth and Williams; tell them to mass their brigades opposite Minersville, and to hold the ford at all cost; explain the situation to them fully. Wyatt, have Coit's brigade stationed in reserve in the hills back of the town. Now Parker, Seaman, Just, and Shea, start the remainder of our troops on forced march to Coulter's Ford: let there be no delay, not even to cook rations. Wilson will move first with the cavalry, to be immediately followed by Sheridan's brigade. These will proceed by the river road, while the others will follow the ridge as rapidly as they can be made ready. Further orders will reach them at Coulter's. That is all, gentlemen."
Within five minutes Rosecrans, the Major, the scout Daniels, and myself were left alone in the room. The General stood motionless, listening to the hoof-beats dying away in the distance, as his messengers speeded on their missions. Then his glance fell upon me.
"Do you need rest, Sergeant?"
"No, sir."
"Glad of that, as I require your services. There is no battery I can assign you to at present, but I judge from your story that you ride well, and you should know the country thoroughly between the Landing and Salter's Creek. I am going to appoint you temporarily on my staff, with the rank of Lieutenant, and place you in command of the advance scouts. Major, see that Lieutenant King is furnished with a suitable uniform and a good horse, and that he and his command get away at once."
Twenty minutes later I was galloping down the river road, with an odd following at my heels.
CHAPTER VIII
WE FIND THE COURIER
THE column of cavalry was already advancing, ploughing their way through yellow spirals of dust, the men eager with the thrill of participating in an important movement. Half way to Coulter's my little party of scouts rode past the vanguard, and swung into the main road, our horses on a trot. When once safely beyond the sight of the head of that plodding column, I checked the speed to a swift walk, my mind free to consider the nature of those strange duties so suddenly thrust upon me. There was nothing at all complicated in my orders. We were merely to keep well in advance of the main body, spreading out sufficiently to cover all the country within eyesight, seeking thus to prevent any possible knowledge of our movement being borne to the enemy's camp. But this service would not be important until we were well across the river. I glanced about at the small squad over whom I had been appointed in temporary command. There were twenty all told, exceptionally well mounted, I observed at a glance, but of so varied characteristics, and such peculiarity of dress, as to form a rather remarkable medley. There was, to be sure, a semblance of uniform, but exhibiting marks of rough service, and representative of every department, so that no two men appeared similarly attired. Yet they had a sturdy and resolute fighting appearance which pleased me, and had all, without doubt, proved their value in hazardous service.
Perhaps a dozen were unmistakably of the mountain white type,—gaunt, unshaven, slow of speech, their keen, restless eyes searching every covert for a possible enemy in ambush; the others were mostly young, reckless-looking fellows, picked from the ranks of various organizations because too restless for the discipline of regular command. Someway they appealed to me, and I felt a hope that I might be retained in command, and thus given opportunity to test their mettle. Back of Daniels, who slouched carelessly in the saddle peering out suspiciously from under the broad flapping brim of his hat, rode a red-headed, freckle-faced boy of eighteen, his eyes dancing with the merriment of unrestrained dare-deviltry evidently from his dress originally a trooper. Beside him was a pudgy, broad-shouldered, round-faced man of thirty whose previous life had apparently been that of the farm with large black eyes glowing feverishly beneath his cap visor. The faces were principally American, yet of greatly varying types, one or two aristocratic enough to win a second glance, but all bronzed by exposure, and marked by that alertness born of individual action. They rode in open order, careless as to military form, scarcely exchanging words, yet leaving upon my mind an impression that they were prepared at any time to try me out and would obey my orders only so far as I made good according to their rough and ready standards. The knowledge that I must control by personality, rather than military rank, brought with it a new sense of responsibility, and a desire to test my authority.
"Daniels," I said, drawing back my horse till I rode beside him, "this looks an odd command given me. What are they—enlisted men?"
"Some of 'em are," he answered slowly, shifting his eyes over the rabble behind, "but ther mountain men mostly are jus' volunteer scouts, picked up yere in ther deestrict 'cause they know ther way 'round. I reckon maybe it's a tough-lookin' outfit from a sojerin' pint o' view, but thar's some damn good scouts a-ridin' thar behin' yer."
"Some of them appear mere boys."
"Sure they do, an' they're ther sort what takes chances whar a grown mar would Have a nerve fit. That yaller-headed feller thar has been mostly my partner lately; he's Irish, name Con O'Brien; deserted twice from ther Ninth Illinois Cavalry, but since they put him scoutin' thar ain't no job too blame hard fer him ter tackle. I tell ye, Leftenant, scouts is born, not made."
"Yes," I said, my blood tingling as I recalled to mind those stories of adventures between the lines frequently related around the camp-fire, "and from all I learn, you are one thus born. I've heard of you often enough. You have had some thrilling experiences."
"Oh, tol'ble, tol'ble."
"How long have you been at it?"
"Oh, mostly since the war begun; I started in with Buell in Kentucky."
"You came from up there?"
He looked at me almost suspiciously, then his eyes shifted to the scene in front.
"I reckon I was born 'bout ten mile from yere, over yonder on ther east ridge." His eye, narrowed, a new light visible within their depths. "It was jist ter git back yere, with sich an outfit as this yere ahind me, thet made me a sojer," he acknowledged slowly. "I got some private work ter do in this yere kintry "
"A feud?"
"I reckon thet's whut ye call it. Maybe it's bin a hundred years runnin', an' has caused a heap o' killin' one way an' an' other, but it's sorter simmered down ther las two year to Jem Donald an' me. Whin this yere war broke out, he sorter took to ther Confed side an' thet naturally made me a Yank. They hed ther best o' it round yere in them days, an' arter a while I skipped. But I'm back yere now, an' I ain't skulkin' 'round alone neither I reckon I've got an ol' woman an' some kids down thar on Salt Crick, if ther house ain't been burnt over 'em 'fore now; an' if it has, God pity Jem Donald. I reckon he'll hear from me soon 'nough anyhow."
There was a grimness in these words spoken deliberately the tone utterly expressionless, which I cannot properly convey in written language—the glint of the eye. the compression of the thin lips, making the deadly meaning perfectly apparent. It was the unyielding hate of savagery, long brooding over past wrongs. Involuntarily I glanced about it to the fringe of woods.
"Is Donald about here, then?"
"Who? Big Jem Donald? Sure; 'h ain't ye never heard o' him?"
I shook my head, hoping thus to lead him on to his story, but the natural taciturnity of the mountaineer restricted him to a few brief sentences.
"Wal, ye will if ye 're long in this kintry. I 've heern as how Jem hed a commish from ther Confeds, an' was runnin' a sorter independent command. Anyhow he's got quite a parcel o' men, mainly deserters an' sich truck, thet he hes ther bossin' of, an' jist 'bout controls all that kintry thar east o' ther ridge." He swung his hand in a half-circle over the landscape in front. "I reckon, Leftenant, it would be a mighty good thing fer ther Union if some o' us could ketch thet cuss an' hang him to ther first tree."
His peculiar voice was so intense with passion, that I could not forbear saying,
"What is the special trouble between you and this Big Donald, Daniels?"
"Darn if I know whar it started," he acknowledged, as though the thought came to him almost as a surprise. "It was 'fore my dad's time, I reckon, an' seems ter me it was over a lot o' hawgs thet got rootin' up some corn down on Rock Crick. Thet's whar ther Danielses an' Donalt's lived in them days, but blame if I know which one owned ther com, an' which owned ther hawgs. Hell, it don't make no difference, fer ther whole kit an' caboodle are dead long ago. Ther Donalds were well off in them days; hed a fine plantation, with a big house on it, an' maybe a hundred slaves. Ther Danielses was allers pore, but thar was a monstrous lot o' us scattered 'long Rock Crick. an' when they went gunnin’ fer ther Donalds they gin'rally got 'em. All I know is thet when I come 'long 'bout a hundred years later, ther Donalds was livin' in a log shack back o' Bald Mountain. an' ther fight was still a goin' on. My dad was shot down at Milliken Bend by one o' ther crowd when I was eight year old: then my brother got ol' man Donald somewhar on ther trail, an' filled him full o' buckshot. Ther next thing. they set fire to our house, when nobody but mam was to hum. She shot into ther bunch, and got away with a broken arm, hidin' out in ther bush fer a week. Then ther Danielses rode over ter Bald Mountain, an' we come pretty damn near puttin' ther Donald tribe outer business, until a gang o' 'em ambuscaded us one night in ther bottoms. Not two bullets in thet fracas, an' my brother was killed. 'Bout thet time ther war broke out. Damned if I keered which side licked in ther war, but Jem Donald come out fer ther Confeds. an' so I went in fer ther Union. Wal, we fought it out yere fer maybe six months, but ther odds was all with his outfit: thar wan't many Danielses left able ter tote a gun: an' finally I skipped out, and jined Buell."
"The Secession sentiment was strong through this section, I suppose?"
"Wal, I don't know 'bout thet. Ther mountain men mostly did n’t care much; mighty few o' 'em owned any niggers. But ther gentry was with ther Secessionists. an' Big Donald allers kinder nat'rally belonged to thet bunch. He never did chum with ther mountain men much. but somehow managed ter be mighty thick with ther Denslows Denslows an' ther Dunns, an' all thet lot along ther river yere. I 've heern tell as how Jem Donald's wife was a Denslow, but I don't never remember seein' her."
This mention of the name of Denslow brought up before me instantly the face of the young girl whom I had left a few hours before. So she also was, in a way, connected with this fierce mountain feud which had already cost so many lives. I had reason to know she was of fighting blood, yet it was seemingly impossible to connect her directly with such savagery.
I was busily thinking still, as we forded the river and came straggling up the other bank, our horses glistening in the sunshine. Coulter's Landing was apparently deserted of all inhabitants; back along the opposite shore we could see the dust cloud rising above the column of advancing cavalry. A few brief orders scattered my nondescript command to right and left, Daniels and I riding alone along the road leading up toward the ridge, watchful that the others covered thoroughly the country on either side of us. We were a mile in advance when Wilson's men first began taking water at the ford.
The knowledge of what our rapid movement meant gave zest to this advance scouting, and we pushed forward alert to any suspicious happening in our front. I observed how old Daniels's eyes narrowed like those of a cat, as he scanned the hills, peering out from beneath the brim of his slouch hat, his thin lips drawn back so as to reveal the yellow teeth. For the first time he became revealed to me as a savage, living merely for revenge, merciless and unforgiving. To him the war was only a greater feud, bringing with it a long-sought opportunity for vengeance against his enemies. Somehow the very thought sickened me; yet, although I turned away, striving to concentrate my attention on other matters, my eyes invariably came roving back to observe his wrinkled face, his thin set jaws, and his gaunt form slouching in the saddle. Twice I spoke, hoping to break the spell, but he answered only in gruff monosyllables, oblivious apparently to everything except that he was again back on the old familiar ground, ever drawing nearer to those he hated with an intensity I could not comprehend. However much of a soldier his long service had made him, all was now forgotten, and he had returned to the bitterness of his mountain feud. He would hunt and kill as the beast hunts and kills—treacherously, and from covert. Yet he was alert enough and watchful, his keen eyes being first to observe the signal of some discovery waved back from a scout far away to the left, who suddenly tipped a distant ridge, a mere black dot among the rocks.
"What is it, Daniels?"
"Ther feller out thar is wavin' us over. He 's run up agin something that 's made him need help, I reckon."
We rode straight across the upland, side by side, I spurring cruelty to keep my horse even with his raw-boned mount, both intently watching the movements of the man who had signalled. As we struck the ridge he came toward us on a lope.
"It's O'Brien," I said, as soon as my eyes clearly revealed his identity.
"O' course it is; I saw that back yonder, an' he don't never wigwag without thar's reason fer it, thet boy."
We met at the edge of a ravine, our horses jerked back sharply.
"What is it, O'Brien?"
He waved his hand backward. "There's a house down there in the hollow, without nobody livin' in it, just a shack of a place, but Oi thought maybe Oi bether look inside afore Oi went by; an thar's a dead man lyin' there: Oi had to push the body aside to get the door open."
"A soldier?"
"Naw; one o' Daniels's sort, Oi reckon."
"Killed?"
"Shot through the head."
I spurred my horse around the end of the ravine, Daniels keeping close at my heels. Apparently he needed no guide, for, as we drew up to where O'Brien waited, the old scout pressed straight forward up a cleft in the ridge, and, with a nod to the boy, I followed silently.
The house, a rude log affair with dilapidated lean-to, occupied a little hollow, partly overgrown with underbrush, and was not easily discernible against the brown background of the hills. The ridge cleft, however, led almost directly to the door, which stood ajar. Daniels swung down from the saddle and disappeared within. Following I found him bent above the prostrate figure of a man, lying upon its back, a haggard face, covered by a straggly iron-gray beard, staring with sightless eyes up into the black shadows of the rafters. The light was dim, being merely that which streamed in through the partially opened door, but I could perceive no signs of previous occupancy excepting a rude table, and a single overturned chair. Daniels glanced up at me, his face expressionless.
"It's one o' ther Farley boys," he announced quietly, "an' he was shot in ther back o' ther head."
"You knew him, then?"
"Wal, I reckon; he was a cousin o' mine," grimly "He was hidin' out over Bald Mountin way, an' I wonder whut ther hell he was doin' yere."
He stooped down suddenly, and pressed one one of the dead man's tightly clinched hands. I caught the flutter of a white slip of paper as it fell to the floor. The scout picked it up, gazing at it blankly.
"Thar's some writin', thar, sir, but it don't do me no good, 'cause I can't read."
I took the paper, and leaned back to where the light revealed the writing. The paper was an irregular strip, evidently torn from off a larger sheet.
reached Rosecrans by
morning with news of
the left flank. He
t two o'clock
od horse, and
Confederate Cav
powerless to stop
and may rely on
g correct. I
k trustworthy,
here able to
n Denslow.
I drew a quick breath, still staring down at the fragment of paper between my fingers. What was this?—a warning to Johnston of my message to Rosecrans? I could hardly decide, and yet there were words there which aroused my suspicion. And Jean Denslow, unable to ride herself, had discovered and sent forward a courier! I desired to learn more.
"Daniels, you say this dead man was your cousin; what side was he on?"
"Wal, he was agin Big Donald, an' thet's 'bout all ther side thar is up yere in ther mountings. We ain't carin' much between Yank and Reb, but I reckon under ther circumstances he was most likely with us."
"Oh, I see; but what was he doing with this paper, then? That was a message to Johnston warning him that I had taken a report of his plans to the Federal camp."
"Ther hell! who sent it?"
"A young girl—Jean Denslow."
The seamed, whiskered face appeared to darken, the eyes narrowing, with a cruel gleam in them.
"You know her?" I questioned doubtfully.
"I reckon I do, tol'ble; but I don't know how she ever got no chance fer to butt in yere. However ther way o' it is clar though. She must have run up agin Jake somewhar, an' mistook him fer one o' Donald's outfit. But Jake never was ridin' fer Johnston's camp, or he would n't a bin way down yere. He was streakin' it fer ther Landin', an' either run into some guerillas, or else Donald trailed him. Anyhow he was shot out yonder in ther openin' an' then dragged in yere."
"Does Jean Denslow know Big Donald?"
He stared at me, his yellow teeth showing grimly.
"I rather reckon she does. Whar is she now?"
"At Fairview; Judge Dunn's place."
He drew his breath whistling.
"Hell; then, o' course, thet's ther way o' it."
There was little more I could get out of him. but he went through the dead man's clothes, after which the three of us carried the inert body outside. hastily dug a grave with a spade found in the lean-to, and silently buried the mountaineer. Within a few moments we were riding away, our minds busy with the thoughts awakened by the tragedy. To me it all seemed to centre more and more about the girl with the blue-gray eyes.
CHAPTER IX
SCOUTING SERVICE
WE attained the east bank of Salter's Creek early in the afternoon, still riding in advance of the main body, but encountering no force of the enemy sufficient to dispute our progress. Here we were intercepted by a courier, who had crossed the river near that point, bringing information that the contemplated attack on our right flank had been abandoned, the Confederate forces being withdrawn into the hills. Evidently some form of warning had been conveyed to Johnston, but too late to permit of his advancing in strong force against our front. Despatching the fellow hurriedly to the rear, we waited for Wilson's cavalry to come up, and then crossed the stream after a fierce but brief skirmish. We had hardly attained to a strong position on the opposite bank when orders reached us to halt, but the cavalrymen thoroughly cleared the enemy out of the woods in their front, finally posting advance pickets nearly two miles to eastward of the creek. Two of the leading infantry brigades crossed that stream and went into camp, while Rosecrans established headquarters at the Denslow plantation. I reported to him there just before dark, but my only orders were to send out several men during the night to ascertain all they could of the present Confederate position.
The next day served to clarify the situation, a series of sharp skirmishes proving the enemy to be in considerable strength to both east and south of our line, sufficiently well protected among the hills to render a direct attack impracticable. However, our flank movement had regained for us nearly all the ground lost by the defeat of three days previous, and the brigades opposite Minersville were ferried across the river and posted at our extreme right. Gaps in the line were filled, and the various commands immediately began strengthening their positions by entrenching. While these details were being arranged, a minor affair occurred in our rear proving much more momentous to me than would a battle. Guerillas had suddenly swarmed forth from the mountain lairs, swooped down upon several ill-guarded supply trains, driven off the guards from at least two, and rifled the wagons. There had been a brisk fight, but the attacking party had escaped with little loss and considerable booty. I was outside Rosecrans's headquarters when the first news of this affair arrived, followed shortly by a report that the detachment of cavalry despatched in pursuit of the raiders had been ambushed along Sand Creek, and driven back badly demoralized. It was then I was sent for.
"Lieutenant," spoke the General sharply the moment I appeared, "you know something of the country west of the ridge, and I am told Daniels knows every inch of it. I want to locate the headquarters of that gang of outlaws over there. There will be no end to this thing until we can strike them at the centre and get our hands on their leader, a fellow named Donald. There is no doubt but the Confederates coöperate with him in these raids, furnishing details of men, and the situation is becoming simply intolerable. Take two or three scouts with you, and discover, if possible, where he hides out, and where he obtains assistance and news as to our movements. Don't report until you obtain what you are after; but if you need help, draw on any troops required. I must have Big Donald, dead or alive. When can you start?"
"Within thirty minutes, sir."
"Better take Daniels along."
"I intend to."
"Good; if you succeed, it will mean a Captaincy for you, as this fellow has been a thorn in my side ever since we first invaded this region. You better wait on the picket line until after dark. Good-bye, lad, and luck to you."
I left his presence nervously elated. It was my first deliberate venture between the lines, and the nature of the service appealed to me. I felt no sympathy whatever for these banditti of the hills, having myself experienced their sting on more than one occasion. As a soldier, I despised their method of warfare, and would rejoice at being instrumental in driving them from the country. But there was more than mere duty in this commission—it would take me again into the vicinity of Fairview; possibly bring me once more into the very presence of Jean Denslow.
The recurring thought of her quickened my pulse and stimulated my imagination. I passed down the steps, glancing back at where we had stood together when the Chaplain pronounced us husband and wife, and almost dared to resolve it should yet be so in reality—the very memory of her growing more and more distinct and alluring, as I comprehended the difficulties of our position. I wondered how she would meet me again; what message of friendliness or aversion I should read in her clear beautiful eyes. Surely whatever her heart felt would instantly find frank expression there.
Still half in a dream, yet clearly comprehending the hazard of our coming night's work, I routed out both Daniels and O'Brien from beside a comfortable camp-fire, told them briefly our orders, and set them to the necessary preparations. The Irish lad was noisily jubilant, but the silent mountaineer merely tightened his grim mouth, his eyes glowing feverishly. He made me think of a tiger who felt the prey already within reach of his claws, and I locked at him with a little shiver of apprehension. Much as I despised the guerillas, yet this was to be war, not murder, and I felt a strong inclination to pick another companion for the night scout. Yet why should I? Daniels knew both the ground and the man sought; he would be of the utmost value; and I experienced no doubt as to my ability to control his bloodthirstiness if it ever came to a contest of authority. Confident in my own strength and coolness I almost hoped it might occur, so I could openly assert myself. The very look upon the man's face grated upon my nerves; it was a constant temptation to me to give him what he was evidently looking for—a touch of the steel. I cared nothing for his feud spirit,—it seemed a small thing to me then,—only that sort of thing was not to be brought in here; not allowed to complicate our military duties. Daniels was either going to do as I ordered, or there would be a clash.
I thought all this out swiftly while we were saddling up, my eyes observant of his every cat-like movement, yet I did not address him again until we were well out upon the ridge road, the setting sun at our backs. Then I began craftily questioning, for the better planning of our night's serious work.
"Where would you suppose, Daniels, is the best place for us to begin our search?"
"'Long Sand Crick."
"How much of a ride before wt reach that stream?"
"Wal, I reckon from all ye've said that ye've bin ter Fairview. Sand Creek heads just above thar, an' runs 'bout due east. I don' know whar Donald holds out right now, but I reckon, if we took thet ol' villain Dunn, an' held his feet in ther fire fer a while, he'd come mighty nigh showin' us ther spot."
"Are they associated?"
"Big Donald is pardner with all them fellers. He belongs ter their class, damn him. Thet's how he got ther best o' us pore fellers; thet's how he got a Confed commission; an' thet's how it's goin' to be so blame' hard ter run ther ol' fox out. He'll fight, all right, an' he kin git ther whole Reb army ter back him in a pinch."
"Is there any one down that way we could trust, or question safely?"
He shook his head, his eyes dull and expressionless.
"I reckon not, Leftenant. Thar ain't many of ther Danielses left round yere now. an' those whut are are most likely hidin' out in ther mountings."
"There would be no use going to Fairview?"
"Hell, no! Ther ol' Jedge, o' course, can't do much, but thet son o' his, Calvert, is in with Donald hand an' glove. an' they all of ’em feel 'bout alike."
"But Miss Denslow is stopping there at present." I ventured doubtfully. "and we might gain some valuable information from her."
He drew up his horse sharply. his peculiar eyes narrowing as he stared at me.
"How long hev ye knowed this yere Miss Denslow?" he drawled.
"l merely met her once for an hour or so."
"I reckoned as much. Wal, pardner, she ain't ther sort thet tells things. Ye might scare somethin' out o' Calvert Dunn if ye got him jist right, but ye'll waste yer time on Jean Denslow."
"Why do you associate those two names?"
"'Cause they've allers bin tergether; them two families are like peas in a pod, an' it's bin common talk they was goin' ter marry up; but ter my mind ther gal is worth any dozen Dunns."
"You don’t think much of the young fellow then?"
"I reckon not; he's a cowardly brag, an' treats a pore white worse nor a nigger; but Miss Jean, why she's a real mounting gal, fit ter mate with any man. He ain't got nothin' on her people; ye kin bet yer las' dollar on thet."
There were other questions on my lips, yet I held them back, unwilling to permit Daniels to suspect I felt any special interest in the girl. Little by little I was beginning to comprehend I was being drawn into a feud older than the war, and more bitter, the right of which—if any right there was—was extremely doubtful; but my sympathies were more inclined toward the side of Jean Denslow than toward this grim, savage mountaineer. The duty of the night grew complicated, and I must watch closely to prevent private revenge overcoming soldierly purpose. I glanced toward O'Brien, who was riding carelessly behind, whistling merrily, one leg flung over the pommel of his saddle. He would care little what happened, so there was sufficient excitement to make his blood dance, and he had been Daniels's partner long enough to side with him in case of emergency. Now that I began dimly to understand the circumstances I wished I had chosen another man.
The sun had been down an hour when the three of us ride out beyond the picket line, heading directly across the upper portion of the narrow valley occupied by Dunn's plantation toward the range of bare hills beyond. I could perceive no evidence of a trail, but Daniels evidently knew the way in the dark, and we followed his guidance without questioning. To me this silent advance into danger was more exciting than battle; yet I was young enough, possessing sufficient of the spirit of adventure, to enjoy the exhilaration and feel glad that I was there.
Scarcely a word was spoken among us, except when Daniels halted occasionally to point out some difficulties in the passage, and, as the night darkened, we became mere spectres, moving slowly, the only sound the occasional stumbling of a hoof. The very silence was oppressive, causing my strained nerves to throb almost painfully, as I leaned forward, striving to keep Daniels's dim outline in view. We passed through a cleft in the hills, along a narrow rock platform, a tree branch occasionally brushing my face, and a sound of tinkling water to our right. At the second sharp turn Daniels halted and swung down from his horse.
"We'll hev ter dismount yere, Leftenant," he whispered, "an' lead ther hosses. This yere is Sand Crick."
The stream must have obtained its name from its course through the valley, for here it was a typical mountain torrent; we passed along beside its rushing waters on what appeared to be a mere shelf of rock, at least twenty feet above the surface, although occasionally the path led down to the bank of the stream. We discovered little to reward our toil; the remains of two deserted camp-fires, and an old shack, doorless and containing not a scrap of furniture. It must have been considerably after midnight when we succeeded in crossing over to the opposite bank and continued on our way. For several hours, in single file, leading our horses, we struggled slowly down the course of the stream, peering anxiously through the darkness, and pausing now and then to listen for some guiding sound. But nothing rewarded our efforts. If Big Donald had any established camp in that neighborhood, it was certainly not along the ten miles of Sand Creek which we had so thoroughly explored.
Daylight overtook us in a little cove whence we could look forth on the narrow valley, and the earliest rays of the sun fell on the scattered buildings representing the plantation of Fairview, perhaps two miles distant. My eyes were heavy from groping so long through the night, yet, in that clear mountain air, every line assumed the distinctness of an etching. It was a noble old house, painted white, and standing somewhat elevated upon a considerable knoll, the red sun rays reflecting from every eastward window. In front, and shading the main entrance from view, stood a grove of magnificent trees, the variety of their foliage indicating a number of species. An extensive garden and orchard, with many beds of flowers, and numerous vines trained upon trellises, all protected by a heavy, trimmed hedge, extended along the eastern side, running well back even beyond the length of the main building, while to the rear were the barn and stables, all commodious, and a long row of respectable negro cabins extended along the front of a grove somewhat farther to the west. The entire scene was home-like and attractive, the main house glowing in its white paint, the other buildings equally neat, but decorated with darker colors. Evidently war had thus far passed by this isolated home, bringing to it no outward damage; even some of the negro slaves still remained at work, for I could perceive figures already moving about those distant log huts as if preparing for a day's ordinary labor. Out of the broad chimney over the kitchen ell of the great house a heavy spiral of yellow smoke was rising upward into the blue sky.
In some way that peaceful scene came to me as a rebuke. I felt that war with its many miseries and terrors was no longer to be unknown to these quiet dwellers outside the beaten path of the armies. Already trouble was hovering near, and I was destined to be the first to bring sorrow and destruction into this peaceful valley. I stood there for some time, field glasses at my eyes, striving to fix details in my mind, and thinking not only of Jean Denslow but also of the bitter feud of which it seemed to me this old plantation house was the centre. I understood little of it all,-merely those glimpses of savage memory given me by Daniels, yet these were sufficient to make me comprehend something of that legacy of hate which for a hundred years or more had descended from father to son, and left all this mountain region bloodstained. And my duty as a soldier was now involving me in the controversy; ay, not only that, but also my peculiar relations with Jean Denslow might make me a partisan. I turned to glance toward Daniels, standing grim and silent beside me, his cold gray eyes narrowed into mere slits as he stared out also toward Fairview.
"It looks peaceful enough down there," I said finally
He turned his eyes on my face, all the disappointment of the nights useless search exhibited in his sallow countenance.
"Ther damn ol' fox will git what he deserves yet," he returned gruffly, handling his rifle, and turning his gaze back upon the house. "I reckon if they knew I was yere they would n't feel so peaceful."
"Daniels," I asked curiously, "what have you got against old Judge Dunn? Surely he is n't directly connected with this mountain feud?"
His lips parted showing again the gleam of yellow teeth.
"What hev I got? Did n't he hold me fer murder? An' wouldn't he hev hung me, if I hedn't got away? An' was n't thet precious son o' his with Big Jem Donald when they shot inter my cabin up at Bald Mounting? An' did n't he head ther posse that run me across ther Cumberland? Maybe ther ol' Jedge ain't in ther feud, but he's got an enemy in Bill Daniels jist ther same, an' he'll find thet out afore many more days, I reckon. In these yere mountings we go after our man, an' quite gin'rally we git what we go after."
"You don't mean to say you would kill that helpless old man in cold blood, merely because as a judge he presided at your trial?" I questioned in doubt.
"Him? He give me no show; he would n't perfect my witnesses; he was a tool o' Big Donald from ther start. I'd a come back yere long ago if thar was any o' my side left yere about with nerve 'nough to tote a rifle. We held 'em all right es long es it was a reg'lar mounting fight. I reckon we got ez many es they did, an' maybe more. But when they found they was fair licked, ther damned skunks went inter court. They had ter bring ther milishy down yere 'fore they could even git us. An' then they put us on trial fer murder—me, and Jim Daniels, an' two o' ther Farley boys. We had n't done no more'n ther other side, but ther Judge let Donald an' all his outfit testify, an' they got a jury from down Minersville way; they kept ther milishy yere until they hung Jim Daniels an' one o' ther Farleys. I got out o' ther Minersville jail, an' a posse chased me nigh a hundred mile. Thar wan't no use a comin' back, fer ther Donalds hed everythin' their own way 'round yere then. So I jist nat'rally waited round till ther war broke out. I sure knew ther Yanks would come marchin' inter this yere kintry some time, an' I wanted ter come 'long with 'em. Thet wud give me a better show than tryin' ter play a lone hand. Wal, I'm yere now, an' I reckon ther whole kit an' caboodle will know 'bout it afore I leave. I've got some ol' scores ter settle up yere in this kintry, an' now, by Gawd, ther ol' United States is a backin' of me."
"You mean to involve this blood feud into your duty as a soldier?"
"Wal, it seems to involve all right. Did n't cher Gin'ral send us out yere to run down Big Donald?"
"Yes, to take him prisoner as a Confederate in arms. That does not authorize any attack on Judge Dunn, or any killing except in battle."
"I reckon I kin attend to ther Dunn matter myself whin ther time comes; an' as ter Big Jim Donald, thar's nobody ever goin' ter take him prisoner. If we sight him, it will be whoever gets ther drop first. He's not ther kind yer make prisoners out 'er." He looked behind him at the rampart of rocks. "He an' his gang must be hidin' out over Bald Mounting way; thar's sure no signs of 'em along Sand Crick."
"What do you advise that we do?"
"Wal, thar's no use trampin' by daylight; we'd be spotted sure. I'm fer goin' inter camp yere in this hollow till after dark, an' then strikin' across ter Bald Mounting. Maybe somethin'll turn up atween now an' then. What say, Bud?"
"So I git somethin' to ate an' a slape, it's all ther same to me," agreed O'Brien, loosening the saddle girth about his horse. "'Av I work at noight I need to refresh meself wid slape in the daytoime, an' 'av I work all day, sure an' I need to slape at noight. It's one an' the same, so I git it, Liftenant. This ould cannibal has the stomach to foight all the toime, but I must have me natural rist, or else foightin' is no fun, at all, at all. Is it refreshmints an' slape we're to have now, sor?"
"Yes," I said, confident in Daniels's judgment. "Let the animals graze well back out of sight from below, and we'll gee what rest we can. I am glad you've found your tongue, O'Brien; I have n't heard you speak before, all night."
The blue eyes danced. "Sure an' the talk wus all scared out o' me, sor, be the bloodthirsty ould villain I'm chummin' wid. I thought wid ivery step we'd be into a massacre, wid a parcel o' women and chidher to be ate up. I did that, from thim things he said."
"You can rest easy on that score for a few hours, but we must content ourselves with cold rations, as it will hardly be safe to start a fire."
I was tired from the long night's tramp among the rocks, but my mind remained active, and my eyes sleepless. I lay there for an hour or more, turning restlessly, wondering how my two companions could slumber so soundly. Then I crept silently forth from the cleft where we were resting, to where I could gaze down again into the quiet valley. Some strange impulse drew me toward the distant house; it may have been the memory of Jean Denslow, yet I persuaded myself it was hope of learning there something of the whereabouts of this Big Donald for whom we were searching. I even drove the girl from my thoughts, striving thus to concentrate my mind more clearly upon the one important duty confronting me as a scout. There would be blacks yonder in sympathy with the Union army; and if I could gain a moment's conversation with one such, it might save us another entire night of fruitless search. Sand Creek, skirting the orchard and grapery, was sufficiently bordered by trees to offer protection almost to the cabins, and I would certainly run but little risk of discovery if I advanced that tar. The result might not be much, yet any real effort was better than lying around and accomplishing nothing.
I started off in that spirit, following the course of the stream down into the valley, at first keeping well concealed behind the banks, and later dodging carefully along under protection of trees and underbrush. Half way across the valley I came upon a well-beaten foot-path, where the narrow stream had been bridged by a sturdy log, and followed this with increased caution, as it wound in and out among the trees, and through great patches of concealing weeds. A rail fence enclosed the orchard, but the heavy, gnarled limbs of the old apple trees grew low, and concealed my movements from the house, so that I crawled through, and advanced to where a row of white pickets separated me from the grapery and garden. The house itself was now only a few yards away, a magnificent specimen of old-time Southern architecture, with great pillars in front, square-roofed, the long windows golden with sunshine. No movement anywhere evidenced occupancy, but I could hear distant negro voices at the rear. A trellis of grapevines ran back the entire length of the building, offering protection; thinking thus to gain view of the negroes, I leaped the pickets, and crept forward in their shadow, my heart throbbing with the excitement of the adventure. There was no sound now, only the faint stir of the leaves, as the soft air touched them, and the song of a bird somewhere overhead. The trellis curved slightly as I advanced, walking now upright behind its security, and then I came to a sudden halt, staring at the fluttering of a white skirt.
CHAPTER X
WITH JEAN DENSLOW
ISAW her first, yet with no opportunity to escape, for almost instantly she perceived my presence, and flung up one hand, her eyes filled with apprehension. Fearful lest she should scream I remained motionless, but managed to say, "Do not be alarmed; I am not here to do injury."
I heard the quick breath hiss from between her lips; the uplifted hand grasped at a bar of the trellis.
"But what are you doing here? You—you are a Yankee!"
I bowed, lifting my hat, wondering if she had caught even a glimpse of me during our night's ride together, which would now serve to awaken her suspicion. But there was no look of recognition in the blue-gray eyes gazing so directly at me full of doubt, aversion, distrust.
"I command a scouting detachment back in the hills," I explained, "and came down here seeking information I thought might be gained from your negroes."
"Oh!" her lips setting more firmly over the white teeth. "What information? Perhaps you would like to question me?"
"I would indeed, but should have doubt as to the result."
"You mean I would deceive you?"
"No, not with those eyes. I should rather expect you would refuse to answer."
She was silent a long moment, her gaze on my face, evidently endeavoring to control her nerves, and formulate some plan of action. Then her lips smiled, her eyes softening.
"Oh, no; that would be discourtesy even to an enemy. Your clothes appear rough; you have been riding all night, yet you have the face of a gentleman. I may not like the color you wear, but I would much rather lie to you than refuse an answer."
"Then I will test you. Where can I find Big Donald?"
She took a single step backward, still clutching at the trellis rail, the smile vanishing from her face, which had perceptibly whitened.
"Who?"
"Big Donald—that is the name he is known by in our army; the guerilla leader who holds a Confederate commission."
"But why should I know him? Why should I be able to tell you where he is?"
"Because he operates in this neighborhood, and because the people in this house are his assistants."
"And if I did know, do you suppose I would ever tell you?"
"You said you would—or else lie."
"Then I will lie; I know nothing of Big Donald."
I could see the flush spring to her cheeks, the swift rising and falling of her bosom, but her unflinching eyes were upon mine.
"Where are your men?" she questioned suddenly.
Just across the valley."
"Are you hunting this—this man you call Big Donald?"
"We should like to find him."
"For what purpose?"
"Suppose I should say an exchange of prisoners?"
The blue-gray eyes hardened, and she stood more erect, her hand dropping to her side.
"Then I should say you lied also," she returned coldly. "But we only play at cross-purposes; if you really wish to question me, why not begin?"
"I have begun, but with no very encouraging results. However I will attempt an advance from another direction. Whose house is this?"
"You know already—it is Judge Dunn's plantation, 'Fairview.'"
"Are you his daughter?"
"No; merely a guest."
"Of whom does the family consist?"
She hesitated, biting her lips.
"Why do you ask all this? Are you gallantly contemplating an attack on the house?"
"No," I said, "we are soldiers, not guerillas. I confess it is curiosity more than anything else, and—because I like to talk with you."
"With me, indeed! You have the insolence of the North."
"Have you met the same trait before, then?"
The bright color swept to her hair, her direct gaze faltering for the first time.
"What few Yankees I have had the misfortune to meet," she said quickly, "have not been greatly troubled with modesty. I hoped you might prove a new species."
"And I disappoint you. I fear the color of the uniform, even the birthplace, makes little difference in the hearts of men: a young and pretty woman attracts us all alike."
"Do not attempt compliment."
"That would be impossible; my eyes speak the truth."
Perhaps some tone of my voice sounded familiar, woke some vague memory, for she leaned forward.
"Who are you?"
"A lieutenant on the staff of General Rosecrans."
"What is your name?"
"King."
She drew a quick, startled breath, her hands clasping tightly.
"King—how—how strange! Do you know an Elbert King, of your army? A—a sergeant of artillery?"
I waited as if thinking, endeavoring to determine which would be best, to deceive her, or confess the truth outright. Something in her face forced me to the falsehood.
"Yes, Reynolds's Battery; he was reported killed in our last battle. Did you know him?"
"No, not really; indeed I have never even seen his face: I wondered if you could be the same," her voice faltering over the words.
"That sounds strange, that you should know his name, and all about him, yet never have seen his face."
"He was not killed, only wounded. He came to our plantation in the night endeavoring to escape into your lives. I—I aided him."
"Then you surely don't hate all Yankees," I exclaimed, almost eagerly. "You are willing to grant some of us worth knowing?"
"You mistake," with dignity. "He was nothing to me. I assisted him unintentionally, not even knowing he was a Yankee."
"If you had known would you have betrayed him?"
"Not merely as a fugitive, perhaps: but as a bearer of important news to our enemies I would."
"And me?"
She looked at me, her eyes almost angry in their gray depths, her lips pressed closely together.
"We are enemies, not friends," she returned calmly. "I am a Confederate."
"Yet what necessity is there for war between us now?" I insisted. "We are on neutral ground, between the lines."
The girl hesitated, studying my face intently, evidently finding therein some qualities which appealed to her better nature. There was even a faint suggestion of cordiality in the voice that finally answered.
"If your mission is one of peace, Lieutenant King, I can greet you as a gentleman. I could not truthfully say you are welcome to this house in that uniform, but we are not boors. Is your mission peace?"
Deep in my heart I wished it were, as I looked down into the clear depths of those frankly questioning eyes, but she was a hard girl to lie to, and I felt no real temptation to disguise my purpose.
"So far as this house is concerned I come in peace, but I come seeking the man Donald."
"He is our friend."
"And that leaves us enemies still, does it?"
"I will certainly do all I can to prevent his being found."
"Is he concealed in the house?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"If I return with my men, and search the premises—"
"We could not prevent such an outrage," she broke in swiftly, "but it will be needless to call your force; the house is open; you may make the search yourself."
Had I been older, more experienced, and had the invitation come from some other than this quick-witted girl, I might easily have questioned its honesty. Yet such a suspicion never occurred to me then; her words merely conveyed the natural indignation she felt at my suggestion of forcibly entering this home.
"You mean you will act as my guide? Who are within?"
"Judge Dunn, his daughter Lucille, and a few house servants; no one you need fear," a touch of sarcasm in the low tone.
"And you are—?"
"Jean Denslow, at your service," dropping me a curtsey, her eyes sparkling behind the fringe of lashes.
I was armed and I believed her. I had not the faintest conception that the interior of the house concealed the man we were searching after, or indeed any others than those she had named. It was not even to assure myself in this respect that I instantly determined to go with her—it was the charm of the girl which made me captive. I would go merely to remain in her presence, to prolong our conversation, to increase, if possible, the memory of our acquaintance. This was an adventure of love, not war, and I was blind to all but the impulse to linger. My heart throbbed fast, yet I managed to say gravely,
"Very well. Miss Denslow, it you can satisfy me that no guerillas are harbored here, I will see that you are left undisturbed in the future."
She turned without a word, and I followed, quickening my steps, until we walked nearly side by side. I could observe the contour of her face against the green leaves, but the expression of her eyes was securely veiled by the long lashes. I hardly remarked the house at all, endeavoring to think of something I might say to renew our conversation, when we came to the end of the grape-arbor, and fronted a door standing slightly ajar. A negro, working in the garden, straightened up, and stared at us curiously, but as he grasped his hoe, and took a threatening step forward, the girl shook her head, and he came to a pause, evidently greatly puzzled. Inside the door, which the girl closed behind us, the lock clicking sharply, a dozen carpeted steps led upward to the level of the first floor, and the drapery of a portière permitted egress into the broad hall extending the entire length of the main house. At a glance I was impressed by the height of ceiling, the air of elegant comfort displayed in furnishing and decoration. Wealth, combined with excellent taste, was in evidence everywhere. Several doors opened to right and left; a broad, carpeted stairway ran curving upward to the second story, and in the recess behind were a sewing table and two rockers. A colored maid occupied one of these, busily engaged with her needle, but rose instantly at our appearance, her eyes opening wide as she stared at my uniform.
"Has the Judge come down yet, Tillie?" Miss Denslow questioned.
"Deed he has, Miss," her teeth showing in a sudden smile. "Alphonse helped him into de library 'bout twenty minutes ago."
"I wonder Alphonse escaped from you so soon."
"Oh, go way," coquettishly, "de Jedge sent him after some hot water."
We went forward to a door which opened to the left of the stairs, and the girl knocked lightly. A deep voice answered, and I followed as she instantly stepped within. The two windows were to the west, the curtains partially drawn so as to leave the large apartment in shadow. For a moment I could perceive little except a heavily carved library table, and rows of books along the wall. Then I saw, still dimly, the motionless figure of a man sitting opposite, and directly facing us. I could distinguish merely the face and the upper portion of the body, but these were sufficient to divert my attention. The shoulders were broad, Herculean, the head large, massive, crowned by a shaggy mass of iron-gray hair, the eyes looking out from cavernous depths. He must have observed my uniform with the first glance, for he burst out in a gruff, snapping voice,
"What's that Yank doing here?"
My fair guide was by his side in an instant, her hand on his uplifted arm.
"Wait, Judge," she exclaimed hurriedly. "It is all right; he is alone, and has entered on my invitation. This is Lieutenant King, of General Rosecrans's staff."
There was an awkward pause, during which I could hear the heavy breathing of the man, and observe his deep-set eyes wander from me to the face of the girl.
"Oh, indeed," he growled finally; "then I suppose whatever you do I must endorse. You are the first Yankee who ever put foot in my house, sir, and I hope you'll be the last. What do you want?"
She permitted me no opportunity for reply, standing almost directly between us.
"Lieutenant King has a force of men back in the hills hunting after Big Donald. He came here alone, and I volunteered to let him search the house."
"What the dev—"
"Yes," interrupting quickly, "I thought you would prefer having it done by one alone rather than by a lot of rough soldiers. Lieutenant King is a gentleman, and I am sure will be as considerate as possible."
The Judge choked in his throat, his great hands gripping each other on the table. He was evidently struggling with a temper hard to control.
"It will be merely a matter of form," I endeavored to explain. "We know of your sympathy with this outlaw, and I shall be only too glad to relieve you of all suspicion of harboring him."
"Oh, you do know that, do you, you young whipper-snapper. If I could use my legs I'd throw you out that window." He stopped suddenly, glaring about as though in search of some weapon; then gazed helplessly into the face of the young girl.
"I'm an old man—an old man," he confessed slowly, his voice rumbling. "I could have fought you once, but not now. Go on, and search the house; you are safe enough alone, with only a paralytic and two women to oppose you. Lord! but I wish Donald was here."
The girl stepped back, her cheeks flushed from excitement, and touched my sleeve with her hand.
"Come," she said softly, "he will only become more irritable if we remain, and the sooner your search is completed the better."
In the hall without I endeavored to read her eyes, but she avoided looking at me, apparently merely eager to finish, as soon as possible, a disagreeable task.
"Miss Lucille has not left her room yet. Lieutenant, but I have sent her word, and the upper portion of the house will be prepared for your inspection by the time we have finished the lower. With the exception of the library, where you have already been, these rooms are all unoccupied, the doors unfastened. Please examine them for yourself."
"I feel quite ashamed of thus intruding—" I began, conscious of the growing restraint in her manner.
"It is unnecessary to apologize. I have long since learned this part of the incivility of war. My own home has been searched often enough by your soldiery. It is to save this house from such outrage that I have asked you to act in person."
"And I shall perform my duty with all respect."
I felt the swift glance of her veiled eyes was full of thanks, but the long lashes drooped so quickly that I gained barely a glimpse of the blue-gray depths. Yet even this set my heart throbbing as I opened the door nearest my hand. It was the front parlor, the furniture covered with linen protectors, a large, but gloomy apartment, with all the curtains closely drawn to shut out the sunlight. A single glance revealed its emptiness. In similar manner I examined the music room, the family sitting-room, the private chamber of the Judge, and a dining-room of regal proportions. To most of these I devoted no more than a cursory glance, but wherever doors appeared I entered and made certain of what they concealed, although Miss Denslow did not leave the hall, or endeavor, in any way, to accompany me. By this time we were beyond the foot of the stairs, nearly at the rear end of the great hall, and, as I emerged from the dining-room, she pointed to a small door farthest to the left.
"This is being utilized as a store room, and the key is kept in the kitchen. If you care to look inside I will get it for you."
"Now I have begun I should like to make a thorough job."
"Very well."
She was back in a moment, inserting the key in the lock. The room was dark, and I took a single step within, feeling in my pocket as I stood there for a match case. I had it open in my hand, still peering curiously into the black shadows, when the door crashed behind me, and I heard the sharp click of the key in the lock. An instant I balanced there, helpless from sudden surprise; then I hurled my body against the unyielding wood.
CHAPTER XI
AN EFFORT TO ESCAPE
FOR the first moment I doubted everything; it must be some mistake; a sudden gust of wind had slammed the door shut. I could not conceive this as the deliberate act of Jean Denslow. I even called her name, believing she would hasten to release me. But there was no response, no sound of any kind from without, and the truth came, forcing itself upon me, that I had been deliberately deceived, treacherously imprisoned. The knowledge cf the girl's deceit hurt me more at first than my own physical condition. I had been hoping for something better; even dreaming that she manifested an interest in me despite my uniform. But now all this was rudely shattered. Yet how could I justly blame her? She had merely performed what she considered a duty, and I had blindly walked into the trap. That I had been a fool was surely no fault of hers. Even as I hammered away on the oaken door there came to me a glimmering of her motives, a respect for her action. I was nothing to her mind; merely an inquisitive Yankee officer searching for one she knew, one she felt obligated to protect. The man might even be concealed within the house; or if not, some clue leading to his whereabouts was to be discovered there. If this was true then the girl had done right to trap me, to lead me on, to make me prisoner. She had pretended no interest in me: she had not led me into this by any miserable deceit; she was in no way to be blamed because I imagined her flushed checks and downcast eyes meant something other than they did. No doubt she was laughing at me now, and I hated the thought of that, yet she had fairly outwitted me, and I deserved the ridicule for proving such a fool.
I stopped my senseless battering at the door, searching the floor for the match case dropped in my first excitement, and then, as a match flared yellow, I glanced about at my prison. It was a square room of medium size, the walls and ceiling of polished oak, a few pieces of furniture piled in one corner, a boarded-up fireplace opposite with mantel above, and a single window, tightly closed by an outside shutter. I struck match after match examining everything carefully, yet this was the sum total of my discoveries; there was no way out, and the fact that not the slightest sound reached me suggested an unusual thickness of walls. A bit unnerved, I found a chair which would sustain my weight, and sat down, endeavoring to think. But in truth there was little enough to reflect over under those circumstances. No regret could aid me, and any attempt at planning seemed equally valueless. So far as I could determine I was helpless, and could only await, as patiently as possible, the will of my captors. Indeed, the longer I considered the conditions the less I feared the results. I could hardly have been thus imprisoned with any serious intention of delivering me over to the Confederate authorities, or even to the tender mercies of the mountain guerillas. Believing I had a force of men close at hand, these people would expect swift reparation for such an act, even the destruction of their home. Probably I should be held merely long enough for them to prepare better for a search of the house, and then set free with profuse apology. Satisfied in my own mind that this would be the outcome, I lit my pipe and settled back in the chair, endeavoring to become as comfortable as possible.
Yet as time passed—a long time it seemed to me in that black silence—restlessness and doubt overcame my earlier philosophy. I grew hungry, but there was no turning of the lock, no thrusting in of food through the partly opened door. My captors knew I was armed, and beyond doubt feared I would make a desperate break for liberty at the slightest opportunity. But how long was this to continue? Surely several hours had already passed, ample time in which to clear the premises of all incriminating evidence. The silence and darkness combined to irritate my nerves: to make moments appear endless. I began to have other suspicions, to lose my faith even in Jean Denslow. Black as was that interior I was still able to pace restlessly back and forth in the cleared space extending from wall to wall timing my steps until I knew exactly when to turn. Once I wheeled about a trifle to the right of the straight course, and a board rasped slightly beneath the weight of my foot. I stopped instantly at the sound, dropping upon my knees to feel with my fingers along the smooth surface. There was not much to encourage—a single strip of flooring, slightly warped at the joint. Scarcely hoping for any practical result, but merely to occupy time, I began digging out the dirt which had become packed hard in the narrow space, and even succeeded in splitting off a sliver from the plank itself. This afforded purchase for my fingers, and after what must have been a full half-hour of diligent effort, I got a broken chair leg wedged into the orifice in such a manner as to utilize it as a lever.
I was bending over this crude contrivance, fearful to exercise my strength lest the sharp snap of the board might sound an alarm, when suddenly the door was unlocked, opened hastily a foot or two, and something slid forward along the floor. I sprang to my feet, staring in the direction of the sound, but the door was as quickly swung shut, and I had perceived no reflection of daylight from the hall beyond. Could it be night already? I lit a match, locating a plate heaped with food, and a small pot of smoking hot coffee on the floor, and took a glance at my watch. Eight-thirty; I had been imprisoned all of ten hours! Why, I must have slept, although I had no recollection of having done so. Ten hours; then surely I was not being held merely to let others escape; there was something much more serious than I had hitherto suspected in my situation. Where could Daniels and O'Brien be all this time? Would they divine where I had wandered while they slept, and come searching after me? Or what would they think of my unexplained absence? More and more clearly I comprehended the utter foolhardiness which had placed me in this unpleasant predicament; which had left me so completely isolated from any assistance. If there was any way whatsoever of escape I must discover it alone, and with the smallest possible delay. I ate like a famished wolf, the abundance of food, together with the pot of steaming coffee, yielding me new courage and strength. There was no sound without, no evidence that I was under any special guard. Probably my captors, confident of the security of the room, felt that any escape therefrom was impossible. With heart rapidly beating 1 crept across to where I had previously been at work, fully determined now to test the efficiency of my improvised lever.
To my delight the board came up slowly, the only sound a slight rasping of the nails; by moving my apparatus I thus succeeded in releasing the entire length of the plank. Except for the joists I could feel nothing below, yet it was necessary to dislodge a second board before I could succeed in squeezing my body through the narrow opening. With the purchase I now had this was not a difficult operation, although the board selected snapped sharply under the strain. Apparently the sound was unheard, and, after waiting several minutes, I swung down through the opening thus made, and let go my hold. The fall could not have been more than a few feet, yet my knees doubled under as I struck, and I pitched forward upon my hands. I was in a cellar, the floor paved with irregular blocks of stone, the side walls of solid plaster. I felt my way cautiously around the three sides of the place before discovering the door, which stood ajar, opening forth into a second apartment, not greatly dissimilar, although more littered up with various odds and ends. It was with difficulty I found passage amid the numerous boxes and hags obstructing the floor, but, by keeping one hand pressed against the side wall, I arrived finally at the opposite entrance. This door was closed, but unlocked, opening into the narroow hall through which Miss Jean had first conducted me into the house.
My heart bounded with exultation as I struck a match, and recognized my surroundings. The exit leading to the garden was at my right, and, before the flame died, I had my hand on the latch. I found the door securely locked, the key gone. I tested my strength vainly against its solid panels; evidently I must discover some other passage leading out, and the only opportunity would be found on the floor above. At the head of the short flight of steps I listened vainly for any sound, and, hearing none, ventured to peer forth into the main hallway. It was unoccupied, but a swinging lamp, burning dimly under a red shade, hung in front of the circular stairs leading to the story above. The shadows were confusing, yet I soon satisfied myself that no one was present to observe my movements. Little by little I advanced, crouching finally behind the protection of a huge coat-rack, I had scarcely reached this position when I overheard voices from the library, the door of which stood partly open. The first words distinguished were certainly ominous enough.
"But this is n't war,"—there was no mistaking Judge Dunn's voice. "He has no rights as a soldier, for he is not here in course of duty."
"What do you mean?" It was a woman who asked this, but not Miss Denslow, and I thought of the Judge's daughter.
"He means," said some one else, quickly breaking in as if impatient, "that this man came here as an outlaw. Bill Daniels has returned; he was seen on Sand Creek last night, and this fellow was one of the men in his party. I don't know who he is, and I don't care, but he's working with Daniels, and probably wearing that uniform inertly to gain entrance here. He's no member of Rosecrans's staff, but Daniels's spy, and I'm for treating him as such. We've driven that gang out of this country once, and now we've got to keep them out, or have the same trouble all over again. It was Donald he asked after, was n't it, Jean?"
"Yes," the reply so low I could barely hear, "but I believe he is what he claimed to be."
"Oh, you'd believe anything. I have n't seen the fellow, but I understand he is young and good-looking. That makes virtue enough for a woman. I suppose he whispered some sweet things to you also."
"He behaved as a gentleman," the voice grown stronger from indignation. "He treated me with respect, which is more than you seem inclined to do."
"You are extremely tender toward Yankees since you rode off with one the other night."
"I have certainly discovered that the color of the uniform does not make the man."
"What are you two quarrelling over?" the Judge's voice broke in impatiently, and I could hear him pound the table with his hand. "Miss Jean has done her full duty, and needs no chiding from any of us. This man is her prisoner, and all we have got to decide is what disposition to make of the fellow. If I knew ho he was, and what brought him here, I could decide his treatment mighty quick."
"What would you do?"
"If he's a Yankee officer turn him over to Johnston as a prisoner of war; if he is a spy for Bill Daniels, hang him to the nearest tree."
in the intense silence I could distinguish the quick indrawing of breath, a murmur of gruff tones, and then a woman's voice.
"Have him in here and ask him then. Let him make answer for himself. Surely the three of you are not afraid of one man?"
No one spoke immediately, but there was a movement of chairs, and finally out of the slight confusion I heard a new, deeper voice speak.
"Did you say he was armed?"
"He carried two revolvers in his belt."
"Then we should go prepared, as he is probably desperate by this time. Have you weapons with you, Lieutenant?"
"No; they are in my room. I will run up and get them and be down in a moment. I feel a curiosity to see the fellow."
Crouching behind the hat-rack I caught merely a glimpse of the man's back as he raced up the circular staircase three steps at a time, but he wore a short gray jacket, and long cavalry boots, well splashed with mud. What, in God's name, was I to do? There was no hope of passing that open library door unobserved. I dashed to the back of the hall, but the exit leading to the kitchen refused to open. Perhaps I could get up stairs before the officer had secured his weapon,, and slip into some room having a window. It would not he much of a drop to the ground, and, even if I met him, it would he only one man, I was pitted against, and he no better armed than I. All this flashed over me in an instant, and the next, revolver in hand, I was flying up the carpeted steps. At the top I came into an upper hall, somewhat narrower than the one beneath, a half-dozen visible doors betokening as many rooms. To my left one door stood open, the light within shining brighter than that of the hall. There was where the Lieutenant was, securing his weapons without doubt. With barely a second of hesitancy, I turned to the right, circled the head of the stairs, and opened the first door yielding to my touch. I took a single step within, and stopped, as helpless to move as though paralyzed, one hand clutching my revolver, the other still upon the knob of the door. Through the main opening, as well as the wide transom above, the dim radiance of the hall lamp already revealed that interior—a great four-posted bed, a high, old-fashioned bureau, one drawer open several chairs and an oval mirror in a gilt frame. That the single window was open was revealed by the blowing back of the chintz curtains, while my feet pressed a thick carpet of some bright color. I saw all this at a glance for the details are with me yet, but then, it seemed to me, I stared at only one object—a motionless body lying outstretched upon the floor.
For an instant I could not believe my own eyes; then slowly, but with throbbing heart, I moved across the narrow space, and bent over the motionless figure. What could it mean? The man was clothed in short gray jacket, and long cavalry boots, splashed with mud. Could it be possible this was the same officer who had just passed up the stairs? He lay upon one side, somewhat huddled up, exactly as he had fallen, and I straightened the body, turning the face upward. He was a man not far from my own age apparently, a bit swarthy of complexion, with dark hair and a small black moustache. The jagged gash of a knife wound in the throat told how death had come, yet it must have been sudden, for the features were not distorted. I staggered back to my feet, still staring at him, unable fully to comprehend all the meaning of this situation, yet already dimly realizing its seriousness. However it might have occurred, this act of blood would be charged to me. The moment it was discovered by those below, and my vanishing from the store-room became known, I would be connected with this crime. My first thought was that of immediate escape; it would be ten minutes, perhaps even longer, before those others would become alarmed at his absence, and begin investigating the cause. That would afford me opportunity for the effort. But how could I go? By way of the window, of course; for there, undoubtedly, was where the real murderer had disappeared. I sprang forward, aroused to action by the fear which gripped me, and peered out. Although the night shadows were deceptive I judged it must be fully thirty feet to the ground. As I leaned across the sill my hand touched something moist, and I lifted it to the light, perceiving the red stain of blood. The murderer had hung there an instant before he dropped.
Somehow the sight brought with it a revulsion of feeling. I was not a coward; I would not run away like a cur. If I did, and if I succeeded in my escape, it would be with the brand of murder on me. They would say I did this deed; even Jean Denslow would believe it. The very chance thought of the girl served to spur my reviving courage. No, I would face this like a man; I would ally myself with her and her friends; I would help to trace down the fiend guilty of so foul an act. I stepped back over the motionless body, and opened the door. As I did so I came face to face with Jean Denslow.
CHAPTER XII
I FACE FATE
SHE did not scream as she saw me, but her face went instantly white, and her hands were suddenly flung out in startled surprise.
"You—you here?"
The tension I had been through, the knowledge of what was concealed behind that door, gave me control of myself.
"Yes," I answered swiftly, "I made my escape from the store-room, and have been trying to find a way out of the house, but have not fancied a drop to the ground."
She stared in my face, her eyes wide from amazement.
"You have been in there?—in my room?"
"Is this your room?"
"Yes—why did you go there?"
"Merely because it was the first door I found unlocked."
"But it was not unlocked; see, I have the key here in my pocket."
"Yet you must have been mistaken, for the door was certainly unlocked when I came, even standing very slightly ajar."
From the expression of her face I doubted if she believed me, yet no sound but that of her rapid breathing came from between her slightly parted lips. I felt obliged to continue speaking.
"I was endeavoring to escape, as I have explained, but now have decided otherwise and ask you to aid me."
"Ask me? Why should you ask me?"
"Because I feel that you sympathize with me; that you still have faith in my statements. A few moments ago I overheard you attempt my defence in the library."
"I—I do not think I defended you," the color coming back into her cheeks. "Indeed I do not remember what I said."
"You said you believed I was all I claimed to be, and that my behavior while with you was that of a gentleman."
"I—I could not say less," she confessed wonderingly, "but that does not imply I would connive at your escape. We are not friends, but enemies."
"War enemies possibly, but that is all I will ever admit. Nor will I ask of you any assistance which you cannot render in all honor to your cause."
"What is it you do ask?"
"That you will go with me now directly to those gathered in the library. I want to tell them my story, and let them judge as to its truth."
She hesitated, one hand pressed against the side wall, and I felt that her slight form was trembling, as she studied my face with widely opened eyes.
"Go to them? Do you suppose they will ever believe you?"
"I do not know; I hope I can make them. Yet it is not so important to me what they decide, for the one thing which impels me to such action is my desire to retain your confidence and faith."
"Mine?"
"Yes; we have not known each other long, and I am a Yankee, your war enemy, yet I sincerely desire your good opinion. I am ready to face those people in order to retain what little I already possess. You have openly defended me before them, and I cannot run away leaving you to believe me a coward, or worse."
That I was deeply in earnest she appeared to comprehend, her eyes drooping behind their long lashes, but she seemed to find difficulty in speech.
"I—I do not quite understand," she admitted at last, almost reluctantly. "You must not do this believing that I can help you, or—or that I am even inclined to do so. I believe you are a soldier, an honorable man, yet I am unreservedly against your cause. You surely appreciate this; know that it was my trick which imprisoned you."
"That has left no sting, Miss Denslow," I returned warmly. "That you outwitted me was natural enough, and I hold no malice. The one question now is, will you go down with me to the library? "
"May I enter my own room for a moment first?"
"I should prefer not; we have been here several minutes already, and I am afraid of discovery. I wish to go down voluntarily, with you alone."
She hesitated, her lashes again lifting, her eyes plainly puzzled at so strange a request.
"I begin to consider you a very odd man," she said slowly, "but perhaps I shall understand it all better when I hear what you have to say to the others."
"Yes," I replied soberly. "I think you will understand then."
She turned about, glancing slightly back toward me across her shoulder.
"You may come," she acknowledged, "for I am sure of one thing—I am not at all afraid of you."
My mind was full of a strange conflict as I followed her slender figure down the circular staircase to the lower hall. No doubt I was in for a stormy time, nor could I hope to clear myself entirely of suspicion. Circumstances pointed directly at me as the murderer of that man above, and I realized how exceedingly weak was my defence. Yet this voluntary surrender would surely have weight, even upon those prejudiced minds, and I had faith—strong, abiding faith—that Jean Denslow would believe the truth of my statement. Somehow, just then, to retain the confidence of this girl meant infinitely more to me than all the rest. How quietly she accepted my plan, and undertook the carrying out of her part in it, never once glancing back to learn if I was really following. Yet there must have been a bit of the dramatic in her composition, for no stage picture could have been more deftly arranged than the simple form in which she managed our entrance. Stepping softly within the library, and drawing slightly to one side, so as to reveal me standing erect in the doorway, she announced clearly:
"Lieutenant King."
I caught it all in one swift glance—the book-lined walls, the glass front of the cases reflecting back the glow of the clustered lights suspended from the ceiling; the heavy mahogany centre table; a wide sofa, with a man and a woman seated upon it, both with dark eyes and hair, and strongly resembling each other, the man wearing a Confederate uniform, the woman attired in some clinging brown material, which rustled, as both instantly rose to their feet in surprise; behind the table, sunk low down within his cushioned chair, his deep-sunken eyes staring across at me, as if he saw a vision, was Judge Dunn; while to his right another man—big, burly, his hair closely cropped, and iron-gray, leaned forward as if to spring, one hand gripping the arm of his chair, the other as instantly plucking forth a revolver from his belt. Even as the ready weapon flashed deadly in the light, I spoke, my hands held up, as I took a single step forward into the room.
"I am not here as an enemy, gentlemen; if I were I could have easily shot first from the hall. I merely wish to be heard, and, as evidence of good faith, I will deposit my weapons on the table."
You could have heard a pin drop as I advanced, unclasped my belt, and laid it before them; the two sank back upon the sofa, while the big fellow, still leaning forward, as though braced for a spring, slowly returned his revolver to its sheath, yet without once removing his eyes from my face. No one among them uttered a word, although the Judge was sputtering as if endeavoring to gain control of his language. I had plainly the advantage of surprise, and comprehended the value of retaining it.
"Now, gentlemen," I began, running my eyes searchingly over their surprised faces, "I have come to you voluntarily to make a statement. In one sense I am your prisoner, yet, had I chosen to do so, I could have been well out of your hands by now. Under these conditions I have some reason to believe you will listen to me quietly, realizing that I speak the truth. I could have no other object in thus coming to you. I am a Federal officer, detailed upon the staff of General Rosecrans, and temporarily in command of scouts. Day before yesterday I was ordered to take two men and examine this neighborhood, for the purpose of discovering. if possible, the rendezvous of a guerilla leader known to us as Big Jem Donald." l gazed directly into the eyes of the giant who was now leaning back in his chair. "Are you the man?"
He smiled slightly, his entire face changing its expression.
"You may assume so for sake of argument. Go on."
"Understanding that Judge Dunn had some connection with this band of raiders, I left my men asleep this morning, and ventured here alone, hoping to discover opportunity for investigation. In the shadow of the grape trellis I unexpectedly encountered a young lady, who offered to permit my searching the house. While prosecuting that search I was suddenly locked into a store-room, and made prisoner. Thus far my story is perfectly familiar to you; that which follows may be of interest."
I paused an instant, and before I could resume, the deep voice of Donald interrupted with a question.
"Who were the men with you?"
"Two scouts, Daniels and O'Brien."
The slight smile deserted his face, the lips becoming sternly set.
"That is why we have distrusted you; doubted your purpose," he explained shortly. "What do you know regarding this man Daniels?"
"Very little; I met him first a week ago, and then merely as his commanding officer. I understand he is a native of this region, and, for that reason, was selected to guide us on this scout."
"Well, before you go on, I will tell you something about Bill Daniels," the voice low, quiet, convincing, "something which may possibly justify our action toward you, if we are guilty of any mistake. Daniels was born within five miles of this spot; he was born into a feud which has cursed this mountain region for many years. My father was involved in it, and it cost him his life; when I grew up to manhood I made every effort in my power to reach a just settlement of the difficulty. I refused to go armed; I refused to retaliate for injuries done my property. I appealed to the courts, instead of fighting it out with the rifle. But those fellows could n't understand that sort of thing; they held me a coward, and started in to drive me out of the country. This Daniels was the leader, and he had with him a lot of midnight assassins. Before I learned the uselessness of courts, my house was burned, my crops destroyed; and my wife, weakened by exposure, died. I was twice shot from ambush, and three men, allied with my interests, had treacherously been done to death. It was then I became a fighting man. It took three years to rid these hill, of their vermin; it cost blood and money, but when we were done, those mountain roads yonder were safe to travel over. This man Daniels was captured, tried, and condemned for murder, with Judge Dunn here on the bench, The atrocity of his crimes was almost beyond belief, and he was sentenced to death. In some way he escaped from prison and disappeared. The war broke out; but knowing him to be alive, knowing the threats he had made, and that the people here required my protection, knowing here still remained in the region those who would through ties of blood, harbor him if he returned, and even assist in his vengeance. I durst not volunteer into the Confederate service. Influence gained me an independent command in this section, thus enabling me to serve both country and friends at the same time. I am Jem Donald, but am not a guerilla; I am a commissioned officer under the Confederate Government."
I bowed silently, impressed by the man's earnestness, and his evident strength of character, but feeling that he had not finished.
"Not until yesterday did I know Daniels had actually returned. His presence would not be so serious, but my command is just now badly scattered, and he comes backed by a force of Federals."
"If I had my way," broke in the officer on the sofa, "I'd hang this whole scouting party, and have done with it."
I turned and looked at him, instantly recognizing the voice. He was Calvert Dunn.
"A kindly thought," I returned coldly, "and one worthy of a soldier. Miss Denslow, I do not really mean to question what has been said, but should feel better satisfied to hear your corroboration. Is this story true?"
Her eyes met mine frankly.
"It is perfectly true," she said simply, "only Colonel Donald has told but a small portion of it."
"Then, Colonel, I feel greater confidence in relating the remainder of my own tale. I have absolutely no connection with Daniels except that of command, nor have I any sympathy with lawlessness and murder. I escaped from the room in which I was confined perhaps an hour ago, by way of the cellar. Finding the door leading to the garden securely locked, I was driven to the main hall, seeking passage from the house. While hiding there, I overheard sufficient of your conversation to become alive to the fact that my situation, if again captured, would be a most serious one. You were about to proceed to where I was supposed to be still imprisoned, but first one of your number, a young officer, I judge, went up stairs to procure his revolver."
I paused as though in question, and Judge Dunn said gruffly,
"A friend of my son's, Lieutenant Navarre, and he is a long while about it."
"When this officer disappeared I sought in vain for some available exit from this floor. Finding none I hastily decided to slip up the stairs after him, and try a drop from one of the second-story windows. Just beyond the head of the stairs one of the rooms was lighted, and I supposed that to be where he was. I turned to the right, and tried the first door. I stepped inside; the window was wide open; on the floor at my feet lay the dead body of Lieutenant Navarre."
CHAPTER XIII
AGAIN A PRISONER
ICOULD see them leaning forward staring at me with suddenly blanched faces; I heard a sharp cry, as Miss Dunn dropped her head upon the arm of the sofa; a bitter oath from the lips of Calvert Dunn, as he leaped to his feet, his dark face fairly black from passion.
"You damned liar," he shouted, rage choking his utterance, "this was your work! you killed him!"
I thought he would spring at me, but, even as I drew back a single step for better defence, Jean Denslow came between us.
"No! not that! at least give Lieutenant King a chance to fell his story."
"Ay! be still, boy," and Donald rose to his feet, a massive figure of a man. "You found him lying dead, you say?"
"Yes, resting upon the floor huddled upon his left side. I turned him over on his back seeking the wound. It was a knife thrust in the throat, but the blade had been withdrawn. There are marks of blood on the window sill, from whence the assassin must have dropped to the ground."
For a moment there was no sound other than the quick breathing of the startled group. I sought to read the expression on the face of the girl beside me, but her hands were pressed to her eyes, her form trembling. Then Donald stepped to the open doorway, blocking the only egress from the room.
"Calvert," he said in stern tone of command, "go up stairs, and verify his story. Lieutenant King will remain where he is until your return."
As young Dunn hastily left the room I turned to meet the deep-set eyes of his father.
"Why did n't you go out that window also?" he asked bluntly, "you could probably have escaped."
"Yes," I answered, "and you would have believed forever that I was the murderer."
"That would n't have hurt you any; the killing of one of the enemy by a scout in time of war is not considered murder. Your army would have protected you "
"I am not that kind of a man, Judge Dunn."
"I don't know what sort you may be," he returned slowly, "but in this case it seems to me you are either a fool, or a wise knave, and there is not a very wide difference between the two. You evidently expect this voluntary surrender will clear you of all suspicion."
"No; it simply means I intend to remain, and face the suspicion. The man upstairs was killed by a knife thrust; I possess no knife. The one who killed him dropped from the window, leaving his bloody finger marks on the sill. The morning will reveal his imprint on the ground beneath. Had I followed, I might have been considered guilty, but the real murderer has left a trail proving it impossible for me to have been the man. My act is neither that of fool nor that of a knave; I prefer being a prisoner rather than to have this foul crime charged against me."
We must have waited there for ten minutes, no one speaking, the Judge gazing full at me, as if I were a prisoner before his court, the big frame of Donald completely blocking the doorway. Miss Dunn was crying softly, and I thought Jean was beside her, but I did not venture to glance toward them. Suddenly Calvert Dunn came down the hall, holding in his hand a lighted lantern.
"Lieutenant Navarre is lying dead in Jean's room," he said shortly, evidently striving to speak calmly, yet with trembling voice. "He was stabbed in the throat with a knife, and apparently given little opportunity for defence, as there are no evidences of struggle. There is a light still burning in his own room, further down the hall, and I believe Navarre was in there, seeking his revolver, when he heard some noise in the front of the house causing him to investigate. The hidden assassin must have sprung upon him in the dark."
"You found other evidence?"
"Comparatively little. There are marks of blood on the sill of the open window, not finger marks, merely splashes. The roadway is below, and a man dropping from that height would leave no impress on the packed ashes. I found this knife in the bushes, where it could easily have been thrown from the window."
The full meaning of all this burst upon my mind in horror. Instead of clearing me of suspicion, everything tended rather to bind closer the chains of guilt.
"Do you mean—"
"I mean this, Mr. Lieutenant King, of the Federal Army, and his black eyes blazed into mine, with angry insolence, "that you, and you only, are the murderer of Lucius Navarre."
I saw the flash of a revolver in his hand; I felt the iron grip of Big Donald's fingers clutching my arm, yet I have no recollection of moving so much as a muscle. The awfulness of the situation appeared to paralyze my every faculty; I could neither think nor act. What was there I could do? I had no defence remaining, and I was physically helpless. The very room swam before me in a mist, the faces seemed unreal, the voices unnatural. I knew the Judge spoke, and that Donald answered him; I dimly remember that Calvert Dunn demanded that they immediately take the law into their own hands; some one counselled delay; I saw Jean Denslow's face full of appeal; I think she spoke, and that I attempted answering some question. Yet it was all like a dream, a delirium, in which I appeared to have no real part. Suddenly the animal in me returned to life; I could not think, but I could act; I could break away; I could fight these devils. I struck out recklessly at Calvert Dunn, maddened by those black, threatening eyes. I felt the thud of my blow, heard the discharge of his revolver as he went down, and struggled desperately to break loose from the grip of the giant who held me. It was all the work of a wild moment. The next I lay unconscious on the floor.
I came to myself confused by my surroundings, but with mind comparatively clear. I was lying on some blankets in one corner of the cellar. Through a small barred window a bit of daylight streamed in, enabling me to perceive something of the desolate interior. My head throbbed from the blow which had felled me, and was bound about with a linen napkin. Otherwise I appeared to be unhurt. I sat up and stared about, recalling to mind the circumstances which had brought me into this situation. Bad as things were previously, I had rendered them infinitely worse by that mad effort at resistance. No doubt my returning to the library was in itself an act of foolishness, less convincing of innocence than I had supposed at the moment, but, whatever virtue it might have contained was now entirely offset by my futile attempt at escape. In the minds of all I was condemned, nor did I have a Single plea to offer. Drops of perspiration beaded my forehead as I thought of those accusing facts pointing so directly toward me. I was held a murderer; the word seemed to burn into my brain as though formed of fire; even Jean Denslow could believe in me no longer—not with all that crushing evidence dragging me down to infamy. Her name lingered on my lips in dread as I bowed my head in my hands; then someway it came back as an inspiration. I sat staring into the darkest corner of the cellar, yet seeing nothing except the vision of that young girl—her slender figure, her bright, earnest face, her light fluffy hair, her gray-blue eyes shining beneath the long lashes. She was my wife, my wife; the law said so, and yet I could scarcely persuade myself of the truth. It had never seemed very much to me before, but it did now, the blood tingling through my veins as the recollection returned. Perhaps she would hate me if she knew; beyond question she despised me already; yet to me the memory was like a flame. I would not yield to this fate; there was a chance for fighting yet, and I wanted to live, to clear my name for her sake. All at once it dawned upon me like a revelation that I loved her; that no other woman in all this world could ever take her position in my heart. I tried to recall each look, each word, which had passed between us, finding little enough to bring encouragement. Yet she had believed in me, held me as gentleman despite my uniform, had even pleaded in my behalf. Now I must prove to her my innocence of crime.
There was but one way-escape, and the running down of the real murderer. How it had been accomplished I could not even guess, but I had one name in my thought—Daniels. About him alone centred motive, opportunity, inclination. This was an act of feud, not war, and there was no one else whom I could connect with such a crime. He had hinted at persecution, and very naturally I had sympathized with him; but now I had the other side of the story, and felt inclined to believe that he alone was keeping the feud alive. There was nothing in the countenance of Big Donald to make me consider him a bloodthirsty monster, and surely Jean Denslow was animated by no mad spirit of revenge. Whatever the original cause, however great the provocation, nothing could justify the cowardly killing in cold blood of this innocent man. I cherished no liking for Calvert Dunn, and the old Judge seemed to me a cold-blooded individual, but, almost insensibly, I ranged myself beside Jem Donald and Miss Denslow, convinced of their worthiness. But I could neither serve them nor myself by lying there motionless.
From what little sense of direction I retained, I judged this cellar room to be at the north side of the house, and a brief search along the walls of the shadowy interior revealed nothing which could aid me in any way. It was totally bare, bricked solidly to the floor beams above, the single entrance by a heavy oak door, evidently barred without, as I could discover no lock, and the only window, scarcely large enough to admit the body of a boy, secured by stout strips of iron, between which the daylight filtered weakly. I went over it all, foot by foot, testing everything, feeling the necessity of discovering any existing weakness while daylight remained. But I met with no reward. Without tools of some kind the walls were impregnable, and there was absolutely nothing I could use as wedge, lever, or hammer. I dug at the bricks, tested the window strips, and exercised my strength and ingenuity in every possible manner, driven to new expedients by recollection of my perilous position; but such efforts were all useless. Wearied and heartsick I had fallen back upon the blankets, when food was suddenly shoved through the quickly opened door. I caught merely a glimpse of a black hand and arm. Before I could so much as sit erect these were withdrawn, and the heavy outside bar rattled into its socket.
I ate heartily enough in spite of trouble and uncertainty, turning over and over again in my mind the conditions of my imprisonment. What course would my captors take? Who among them would influence the others? All alike, probably, deemed me guilty of deliberate murder, yet in this time of war, in this country overrun by armies, it was scarcely likely there were courts or peace officers to take charge. What then? Would I be removed to Confederate headquarters under guard? Or would these men, actuated as they were by the feud spirit, proceed without law, to wreak personal vengeance? If they believed me a soldier, an officer of Rosecrans's staff, they would probably turn me over to the military authorities; but if not, if they were convinced I was connected in some way with Daniels, they were not likely to extend any great degree of mercy. They had hung and shot men before in seeking to rid this region of that faction. Now in time of war, when few questions were likely to be asked, they would scarcely hesitate before offering me similar treatment. Why was I being held here all day? Were they seeking after more convincing evidence? Had they discovered trace of Daniels and O'Brien? Had Donald sent for his men? Question after question rose before me, but I could only guess desperately at the answers. I had nothing to hope for from Calvert Dunn, nor had I perceived any signs of sympathy in the deep-set eyes of his father, but Big Donald was a stronger character than either, and had impressed me much more favorably. Well, it was like the tossing up of a coin, and it was not likely to be long before I learned their decision. Every hour of delay might aid me. If Daniels was in the house, he may have learned, or suspected my predicament, and either he or O'Brien could guide a troop of horse there from our lines in twelve hours. They would certainly be searching after me, and where would they be so likely to search as here? I had completed my meal and was sitting with head buried in my hands, my thoughts insensibly drifting to Jean Denslow. If I could only really understand her; if I could know how she felt toward me now under the shadow of this crime. Of course I was in her thought merely as a chance acquaintance, an enemy, indeed, so far as the uniform went, yet she had exhibited some interest, and perhaps still retained a slight doubt of my guilt. Girl though she was in years, yet hers was the heart of a woman, and I felt that she would stand for all she deemed to be right in face of them all. If I only knew she retained confidence in me, I could meet courageously the rest. I was staring down at the bricks, so deeply immersed in gloomy conjectures as to be unconscious of all else; I heard no sound, and yet something told me of another presence. As my eyes lifted I saw her, standing alone just within the closed door, looking at me.
CHAPTER XIV
RELEASED FOR A PURPOSE
ISTARED at her as at an apparition, unable at the moment to disassociate her from the vision of my daydream. I even struggled to my feet, without realizing that she actually stood there in the reality of flesh and blood. No doubt both look and action pictured my bewilderment, for her lips curved to a smile, and she spoke quickly.
"I am not a spectre, Lieutenant King."
"It needed your voice to convince me," I returned bowing, and feeling the sudden release of blood in my veins. "I had been thinking of you, failed to hear your entrance, and then suddenly saw you standing there. It certainly startled me."
"You were thinking of me?" the tone slightly curious.
"Yes, wondering if you believed me guilty; hoping you, at least, gave me the benefit of the doubt. Your appearance was like an answer to my query."
"And I come in reality, not in spirit, to make response," she returned gravely. "I have every reason to suppose you guilty which the others have, only I believe such an act would be impossible for you to commit."
"You mean my nature—"
"I mean you are what you claim to be, an officer and a gentleman. I am only a girl, Lieutenant King, with no very wide experience in life, yet I cannot be mistaken altogether in your character. I not only believe you guiltless of this crime, but I trust you otherwise, or I should not be here."
I stepped forward, bowing in acknowledgment of her words, but she remained motionless, the expression of her face holding me silent.
"Will you give me your word that I am right?"
"Before God, yes," earnestly. "I know nothing of the crime except what I told in the library."
"And I may trust you?"
"To the end of the world, Miss Denslow."
Her questioning eyes fell, the long lashes concealing their depths, but there was no change in her posture. There was a certain reserve about her manner which held me motionless and at a distance. However we might trust each other no action of hers invited to intimacy.
"Lieutenant King," her words spoken slowly, yet with sufficient clearness, "I should hardly have come here under ordinary conditions. I do not wish to be misunderstood. I am a daughter of the South loyal to the interests f the Confederacy. While I believe you guiltless of this cruel murder, yet you have entered this house as a Yankee officer, searching for one who is very dear to me, beyond all his claims upon my protection as a soldier of my country. To protect him I made you captive, and I consider you now as rightfully a prisoner of war. I have been trusted to guard you, and intend to be loyal to my trust You may feel this strange, perhaps unwomanly, but women brought up in these mountains, breathing the atmosphere of a feud from childhood, learn early to assume responsibility, and perform strange duties. I am going to tell you the truth, because I trust you. I have been left here as your jailor, with no one but negroes to help me to guard you. Miss Dunn has given way to her nerves, and locked herself in her room; Judge Dunn, as you know, is comparatively helpless. I am, therefore, practically alone."
"Alone!" mystified as to her purpose in such confession, "you mean, but for you, I could walk out of that door. What has become of Calvert Dunn and Donald?"
She stepped aside, again uplifting her eyes as as she did so.
"Yes," she said simply. "there is no strength here to prevent your escape. I merely appeal to your honor."
Breathing hard, I looked at her, scarcely knowing what to say. The expression of her face, pleading, questioning, decided me.
"That will have greater weight with me than a barred door."
The quick flash of her eyes appeared to light up her entire face.
"I believed so: your words justify my confidence. If I ask you to serve me, and yet hold yourself a prisoner, will you pledge me your word?"
I hesitated, but only for an instant, the strangeness the request bringing with it a momentary doubt, as quickly dismissed. Whatever the cause, this girl trusted me, and I would trust her.
"I pledge you my word."
"And I accept it without reserve. I give you my hand in token of the compact."
It was an impulsive, girlish action, yet as I clasped the extended fingers, no such conception came to my mind. All seemed natural enough, and the soft touch of her flesh sent a sudden thrill through me. Only the earnestness of her face held me under restraint, kept me alive to the fact that some grave necessity alone must have led her to this concession. She must have perceived the struggle depicted in my eyes.
"You think me an odd girl, no doubt," she explained quickly, yet in some embarrassment. "And perhaps I am not just like others brought up in social restraint. I have seen more of the primitive, and have always been compelled to act independently. Some time I may tell you about my childhood, and then you will understand better. When other children learn to walk, I was learning to ride and to use firearms; ay! and to distrust strangers. Perhaps that very experience has brought me self-reliance, and an unusual confidence in my own judgment. Am I over bold?"
"Far from it; yet I may be when I say you are my ideal of womanhood."
The quick flush mounted to her hair, her hands clasping.
"Oh, but I did not expect that. What a poor ideal you must have! No Northern school ever held me up at a model."
"I should imagine not, from specimens I have seen; but the colorless type grows extremely tiresome."
"Then, at least, I am not colorless?"
"Assuredly not," her very frankness disarming me, "you are as God made you."
She laughed, feeling the earnestness of the compliment.
"I must be or I should never be here talking such nonsense to a Yankee. I hardly know what spirit possesses me to make me forget the real purpose of my visit. I am sure you it was not to listen to compliments. I came in all seriousness."
"Then tell me how I can serve you!"
The slight smile awakened by our exchange of repartee deserted her lips, and she glanced uneasily at the door.
"I told you I was alone here, but for the negroes. Believing you perfectly helpless, confined here in the cellar, Colonel Donald rode away to collect some of his men who are widely scattered just now, intending to convey you under guard to-night to Johnston's headquarters. Calvert Dunn, with two of the negroes, departed even earlier, with Lieutenant Navarre's body. There was no one else to guard you but myself."
"They intend holding me then as a prisoner of war?"
She hesitated, as if doubtful of her reply, her eyes lifting suddenly to my own, then falling as quickly to the stone floor of the cellar. The light was fading, and the growing shadows already concealed the expression of her face.
"You fear to tell me the truth?"
"No, not that; but I do not feel quite certain of the final outcome. Both Calvert Dunn and his father hold you merely as an emissary of Daniels, and would treat you as they would him, if he ever fell into their hands. We have not known much about law in this region, Lieutenant King, and men have learned to wreak their own vengeance. I cannot picture to you what the bitterness of a mountain feud means." She pressed her hands to her eyes as if to shut out the memory, yet went steadily on, her soft voice trembling with emotion. "I—I have seen so much of it; from my very babyhood I have lived amid scenes of violence—burned homes, women and children suffering and destitute; men shot down from ambush; and outrages unspeakable. War is terrible, but a mountain feud turns human beings into fiends. For years no life in all this region was safe; the murderer prowled among the rocks, even crept into the home, to strike down his victim. It was a constant butchery, and every crack of a rifle brought agony."
Her words, the deep intensity of her utterance, told how clearly she recalled it all. She stopped, breathing heavily, one hand reaching out to the door for support.
"But why should it be? We know nothing of such conditions in the North. What caused all this fighting?"
"I—I heard the story," speaking now almost wearily, "but it is too silly to repeat. Way back, they say a hundred years ago, when the first settlers came, some controversy arose between the Danielses and the Donalds. Blood was shed, and, little by little, every relative was drawn into the controversy. Bitterness increased, at new causes for anger arose, until the original cause was forgotten, and children were born, taught from the cradle to hate the other faction. The Danielses were the more numerous, the more ignorant, the more vindictive. They would stoop to any crime, confident of their strength of numbers for protection. Colonel Donald saw them kill his father and burn his own home to the ground. But he was of a different nature; he realized the wickedness, the brutality, of continuing such a struggle. He sought earnestly to compromise, to make peace. The others laughed, thought him a coward, and became bolder than ever in their outrages. Finally they burned his home for the second time, twenty of them, at midnight, Bill Daniels at their head. They left him seriously wounded, and drove his wife and children into the night and storm."
She leaned back against the door, trembling from head to foot, yet went on steadily.
"His wife and one child died of the exposure. He lay for weeks in this house delirious with fever, and twice those fiends sought him even then. When he recovered he was another man—living for no other purpose than to clear this region of that scum. He was five years at it, night and day, tireless as a bloodhound. He had with him every law-abiding man between the two rivers, and it became so hot for Daniels and his gang that they began to clear out. Some were imprisoned. some shot, others left the country. Bill Daniels himself was brought into court, tried for murder, and convicted. He escaped from jail two years ago, and since then, until the war broke out, we have had peace. Now he has come back—come with the Yankee army behind him—and—and it is murder again."
"You know this to be all true?"
The cellar was almost dark now, but I could see her straighten up, her hands clasped tightly together.
"Do I know? Oh, God, yes; I have been part of it. I have seen men shot down. I have cowered in darkness and rain while flames destroyed the house I called home. All my childhood was a passion of fear."
She dropped her face into her hands, not crying, but endeavoring rather to shut out the memory.
"I am sorry to compel you to review all this," I said gently. "But I am glad to know the truth. You say Calvert Dunn and his father hold me to be one of Daniels's followers, and would deal with me accordingly. How about Colonel Donald?"
"He believes you guilty of killing Lieutenant Navarre, but merely in an effort at escape. Otherwise he thinks you have told the truth, and favors turning you over to the military authorities."
"They expect to return?"
"Yes, to-night, with a squad of Colonel Donald's men."
I stood staring at her white face, now barely visible through the growing darkness. Somehow this all seemed more like a dream than a reality, and I could not grasp the full meaning of it.
"And yet you ask me to remain, Miss Denslow, to remain here voluntarily and wait for them?" I asked in despair of comprehending. "You open the door of my prison, yet ask me to wait the return of men who are undecided whether they will hang me outright or merely fling me into a Southern prison? You really ask this?"
She took a step forward, her hands outstretched as though she would grasp mine.
"Yes, Lieutenant King, I do ask it; I ask it because I am afraid to be left here any longer alone; I ask it because I believe you are innocent, and I wish to give you an opportunity to prove it. I ask you to pledge me your word not to leave me until the others come."
"I do not understand," I said slowly, "but I will not disappoint you. I give you my word to stay. What is it you mean? How can I prove my innocence?"
She was at my side now, her lips almost at my ear.
"I believe," she whispered, "the assassin is still in the house."
CHAPTER XV
ON GUARD WITH JEAN
IN complete amazement I heard these words, too surprised for the moment to utter a syllable. It was fear, then, which had driven her here. Yet this fact did not in any way lessen the act as proof of her confidence. In need she had turned to me for help, believing in, and trusting me. Yet surely she must have been frightened at a shadow; the man who had killed Navarre had fled, dropped from the open window; the thought that he had dared return to the scene of his crime was incomprehensible.
"You say the assassin is still here?—in this house?" I questioned. "Are you sure?"
"No, not sure, but 1 have every reason to believe so. Certainly some one is in this house other than I know. One of the servants caught a glimpse of him, and I have seen that which has aroused my own suspicions. Lieutenant King, I am not a nervous creature, given to hysteria, but a mountain girl accustomed to see deeds of violence, and have been taught to rely upon myself for protection. I have not dreamed this, but I actually believe there is some presence in this house seeking evil."
"But, Miss Denslow, how can this be possible?" I urged earnestly, convinced by the expression of her face that she was deeply moved. "Surely every inch of the house could be searched, the negroes would do that."
"They have done that, unwillingly enough, I fear, yet thoroughly, under my own supervision, but I do not believe I know all the house."
"Not know all! What can you mean?"
"This house was built in time of feud, and in a feud country. Judge Dunn was then on the bench, and had made many dangerous enemies by his decisions. He was always a man to arouse animosity by his arbitrary manner and abrupt speech. As a girl I heard this house contained a hidden room, and secret passages, so arranged as to facilitate escape in time of peril or attack. Calvert Dunn has confessed as much, but he and his father alone know the secret. I have asked Lucille, but she has no information, and it would be useless to question the Judge."
"Where is he now?"
"Where you saw him last, occupying his chair in the library, his body perfectly helpless, his mind apparently as active as ever, but more bitter than before because of his physical weakness. I do not think he has slept for two nights, or that he has uttered a word, except to curse the servants who brought him food."
I had the full picture of the situation clearly before me now—the superstitious, unwilling darkies, knowing just enough to be frightened at their own shadows; the characterless and colorless Lucille, suffering from a headache and locked safely away within her own room; that vindictive old man, seated helpless in his chair, her strange eyes glaring out across the library table, and Jean Denslow left alone in the big house to cope with its mystery, the night shadows closing in. The sight of her standing there before me, her slender figure barely perceptible in the gloom, was an appeal irresistible. Whatever of service I could give would be offered with glad heart, while not a thought remained as to my own safety. Instinctively I extended my hand, and, in the sudden response of comradeship, she slipped her own into my grasp, the slight fingers trembling to my touch.
"I—I believe I am actually afraid," she confessed, as if almost ashamed to make such acknowledgment. "I never felt so before, and hardly understand myself. This is so different from a real danger—this—this haunted feeling."
I do not recall what I said, but I know 1 retained her hand in mine, and must have spoken words of encouragement, for when we emerged from that dark hole of a cellar into the narrow hallway, already lighted by a hanging lamp, her eyes were smiling, and the grasp of her fingers had grown firm.
"I shall want weapons, Miss Denslow," I said, as we stood looking up and down the main hall, "for whoever this visitant may prove he will be of flesh and blood, and not impervious to a bullet. You can trust me armed?"
"Oh, yes; I will get your own revolvers. They were left in the library."
She was back in a moment, and I snapped the belt about my waist, feeling renewed confidence as I found both weapons still loaded.
"And now I am ready for the worst; even anxious to go in search for trouble. What is it you wish? Shall I visit the Judge and try to learn the house secret, or explore for myself?"
"No," she answered, her fingers nervously pressing the sleeve of my jacket. "I am convinced either course would be useless. I merely wish you to remain with me, and watch."
"At least let me assure myself that no one is concealed on this floor," I insisted, "as we can then choose better our point of guard."
She did not object, although it was clear enough she considered the precaution valueless. However, the manner in which she followed me about, anxiously scanning the dark corners, evidenced the state of her nerves and determined me to make the search a thorough one. Lamp in hand I explored every nook and corner, peering under furniture, and into closet recesses, until absolutely convinced that not even a rat could have escaped my scrutiny. Having thus completed the lower floor, not even forgetting to test the walls in hope of thus locating the secret room, I was for following the same course above, had she not begged me to desist, her voice trembling, her face pathetic as she pleaded. Through the partially opened door I caught a glimpse of the Judge at the library table, his head bowed forward as if he slept, but I did not venture to enter the room.
"Miss Denslow," I said at last, standing at the foot of the stairs, "if it is true that any one is hiding in the house, as you suspect, the fellow must be the murderer of lieutenant Navarre. Naturally I wish to make that man prisoner. I want him to come here where I can get my hands on him. Are you willing to sit here in the dark, thus helping me to draw him into the trap?"
Her eyes lifted to mine in a single searching glance.
"Yes," she said quietly; "I know I am nervous, strangely so, yet I am not afraid."
I blew out the light, placed two chairs back in the denser shadow underneath the circular staircase, and made her sit down in the one nearest the wall. Her hand was cold, trembling as I touched it, and I whispered a few words of courage into her ear, but she made no effort to respond. So silent was everything I could hear her light breathing, and the slightest change of posture seemed to start the echoes. Peering out around the stairs, I could see nothing except the darker shadow of furniture, dimly visible by reason of the little glimmer of light stealing forth from the partially opened door of the library, its light flickering giving everything a ghostly aspect. Perhaps we had been sitting thus for ten minutes, in a stillness so profound as to be painful, when I felt the girl's hand steal along the arm of my chair, and press my sleeve. The movement, unconsciously made perhaps, was eloquent of her distress of mind, and, obeying the first impulse, I reached across and clasped her fingers within my own. She made no effort to withdraw, and we sat thus in the dark, like two lovers, listening intently, neither venturing to speak. How the time dragged, the minutes seeming like hours under the continuous strain of expectation. I had much to consider, yet my mind did not work with its accustomed clearness, nor could I divorce my thoughts from the girl at my side, who was exhibiting such confidence in me. The slight pressure of her hand now warm and throbbing, the soft inhalation of breath continually reminded me of her near presence.
Was she right or wrong in her suspicion? Had overstrained nerves caused her to believe the house haunted? Or had the assassin, dissatisfied with his previous work returned tn complete his task? I was not convinced either way, yet the fellow must be mad to run such risk of discovery. Still, if he understood the situation, that the girl had been left alone, his venture would not be particularly dangerous; he had no reason to fear her or the negroes. Yet if he knew all this, he must also be aware that Colonel Donald and Calvert Dunn would soon return, and that he must act quickly in order to escape. A great clock at the rear of the hall boomed out nine strokes, causing us both to start nervously at the first unexpected sound. I counted the strokes to make sure of the hour.
"Do you know when the others are expected back?" I asked in a low whisper, turning my face toward her barely perceptible outline.
"No; they were unable to say, but they surely must be here before morning."
"Perhaps it is cruel of me to insist upon your remaining here in the dark. You could go into one of the rooms with a lamp, and lie down and rest."
"Oh, no," the clasp of her hand tightening, "I am far too nervous; I prefer being here with you."
There was that in both tone and action to urge me forward.
"It is odd you should trust me so wholly," I ventured, "a Yankee and a stranger, and one under such grave suspicion of crime."
She did not answer, or appear to distinguish my words.
"Why should you trust me, Miss Denslow?"
"Indeed I do not know," as if the thought had but just occurred to her, "only the act is natural to me. I either trust fully, or not at all. I have been like that from a child, the servant of first impressions."
"And your first impression of me was favorable?"
"Had it not been," she acknowledged frankly, "I would certainly never be here."
"Yet you have not forgotten my uniform?"
"No, although there are times when I seem to forget," her voice hesitated, yet finally concluded, "and times when I wish you would not remind me of it."
"I do not," I returned hastily, "remind you of the color I wear with any purpose of making it a barrier between us. I fail to understand why it should be. I respect and honor you for your loyalty to the cause you have espoused. and surely you can believe me equally sincere in my principles. We are what we are in such matters very largely through birth and environment, but we remain men and women just the same. our hearts and natures unchanged."
"Yes, I know. I have learned that," but with a bit of doubt in her tone, "only my education has not been of the kind to make this an easy lesson. I was brought up to hate my enemies; to fight them bitterly, and to the death. That was the feud spirit, and we took this feeling with us into the war. The people of the mountains enlisted for North or South the better to fight out their old grudges. and I cannot wipe out in a day the bitterness implanted in me from babyhood."
"Yet you were educated in a Northern seminary. Surely you found friends there?"
"A few, but even there we of the South clung together. We are a clannish lot, Lieutenant King, narrow in our prejudices, and unforgiving. I sincerely wish I could take a broader view."
"And you do already. You are here now with a Yankee whom you trust. Peculiar conditions have brought us into sudden intimacy. Under other circumstances I could never have known you as I do now; years of ordinary intercourse would not have made us so well acquainted. We are really friends, are we not?"
Perhaps my voice and manner were too ardent. for her hand slipped from mine, and I heard the sharp indrawing of her breath.
"I— am hardly ready to promise that. You are not justified in asking so much. I feel kindly toward you; I believe you a gentleman, and trust you as one. But I do not know you, Lieutenant King, and—and," her voice grew firmer, "all my friends are on the other side."
"Oh no, they are not, Miss Denslow; I am your friend in spite of every difference between us. So long as I live there will be one heart under a blue uniform you may feel confidence in. I do not even believe you are as hard-hearted as your words would indicate. Shall I be entirely forgotten as soon as this episode is over? Will you not retain some kindly memory of me?"
"I could not be indifferent to the claim of gratitude."
"Nor can you refuse friendship while I show myself worthy—can you?"
She remained silent, a silence I did not understand, yet I was unwilling to accept it as a negative.
"You gave me your hand a few moments ago because you were frightened and nervous: it was a comfort then for you to feel the nearness of one upon whom you relied for protection. Will you not give me the same hand now in token of friendship?"
It seemed to me 1 waited a long while, my own heart beating like a trip-hammer, as she sat there motionless in the dark. Then there was a slight rustle of her loose sleeve, as her hand slipped hesitatingly along the arm of my chair. I held it for a moment in silence, not daring to utter the mad words which came thronging to my lips.
"I thank you," I said at last, "your friendship will mean much to me."
"I do not know why I am so foolish," she confessed, as though the words escaped her control. "Somehow you make me do things, even against my will."
"Is this against your will?"
"No; I think not; really I do not know. Our acquaintance has been so unconventional I scarcely realize my own feelings. I—I haven't liked Yankees, you know, and it is pretty hard to learn to like even one Yankee."
"But you are going to try?"
I could hear the breath between her half-opened lips.
"I don't think I shall have to try—very hard. Somehow you do not seem like a Yankee at all."
"Good; I am not going to seem like one—at least not in the sense you mean."
If I could have read the expression in her eyes I might have dared more, but, in that darkness, her words barely audible from the cautious whisper in which we conversed, my courage failed. Already I had gained much, more even than I could justly have expected, and I might make a great mistake at any attempt to go further. Besides she was in my care, she had trusted herself to me, and were I to take unfair advantage of the situation it might cost me all I had already gained of her good-will. This consideration was sufficient to induce me to speak of other things, the war, the relation of Colonel Donald to the Confederacy, and her early life in this region. I think she was glad to talk, even in a cautious whisper, as a partial relief from the strain of waiting there in uncertainty and darkness, and she spoke with a girlish frankness, affording me glimpses of her character. Yet the time came when we both relapsed into silence, and I sat motionless, listening for any sound, my eyes on the thin line of light streaming through the crack left by the nearly closed library door. I felt little apprehension of any other presence in the house, believing the girl's overwrought nerves responsible for her fear. The testimony of the superstitious negroes, frightened as they were by the tragedy of Navarre's death, carried small weight, and Miss Denslow, left alone, might easily imagine all kinds of evils. Yet there was nothing to do except remain and watch. In the long silence her breathing became heavier, more regular; convinced she slept, I ventured to discover the truth by touching her gently with my hand. Her head rested against the cushioned chair-back, her cheek pillowed upon one hand, and she was sleeping like a child. I tiptoed forward and peered into the library. Judge Dunn sat just as before, his posture unchanged, his head bent forward upon the table. Suddenly my ears caught the creak of a board sounding from the top of the stairs. I was not even certain I actually heard it, yet I stepped aside into the deeper shadow of the coat-rack, every nerve a-tingle, my hand reaching for the revolver at my belt.
CHAPTER XVI
ANOTHER MYSTERY
Icould see nothing, the circular staircase a mere dark blur barely distinguishable, yet, faint as the sounds were, I was convinced some one was stealthily descending step by step, feeling a way cautiously through the gloom. Who could it be? What purpose could account for such a presence? I felt no doubt that this was the murderer, seeking to complete his work of blood, but how could I meet him? With a shot, ending his career with one pressure of my finger against the trigger? Or should I attempt taking him alive, thus the more thoroughly vindicating myself of all suspicion? Had I been older undoubtedly I would have chosen the safer method, but, as it was, I felt confidence in my strength and in the advantage of surprise, and was urged into recklessness by a desire to prove before Jean Denslow the extent of my courage. Thrusting the half-drawn revolver back into the belt, I crept forward to the foot of the stairs, crouching down within the shadow of the parlor doorway. Step by step the intruder came down toward me, yet he was almost within reach of my arm before I could make out even the dim smudge of his form, a shapeless shadow, but looking burly enough. A step more, and I could see a hand grasping the banister, and that a circular cloak hung dangling over his shoulders. With teeth set, crouching for a spring at his throat, I waited, until he planted both feet on the floor, his head turned away, peering into the blackness of the rear hallway. The next instant I had him, my left arm under his chin, my right hand binding his cloak about him so tightly he could not lift an arm.
It was a garroter's grip, and I could have broken his neck had he not yielded instantly to the fierce pressure. We went down together, crashing against the lower stair, but I fell on top, confident of victory, my knee crushing his chest, my hand grasping his throat. A moment I thought him unconscious, stunned by the hard fall; then I knew I was in the grasp of a giant, fighting for my life. I clung to him madly, not daring to release my grip even long enough to grasp at a revolver, every muscle exerted, straining my utmost to hold him down. There were few tricks I did not know in the wrestler's game, but this man's strength offset them all. Inch by inch he forced me back, his grip fairly digging into my flesh, his arms pressing about me like iron bars. There were no blows struck, no words spoken—just the heavy breathing of desperate fight; the scuffling of bodies; the sheer strain of muscles exercised to their uttermost. I had the advantage of posture, he of strength, but, at last, he got me, his arms crushing me as if I were in the grasp of a bear, tearing my fingers from his throat, and forcing my body over against the wall, and my head to the floor. Never before, or since, did I struggle with greater desperation; once I gripped my gun, only to have my fingers crushed between the stock and his hand as in a steel vise, the intense agony making me moan. The next instant the round barrel was pressed into my cheek, and I lay faint and helpless, his giant, shapeless figure leaning over me in threat.
Even as I stared up at this too breathless to speak, too helpless to move a muscle, a sudden gleam of light swept over us both, and I caught a glimpse of Jean Denslow, standing white-faced, holding a lamp in one outstretched hand, the other grasping at the baluster rail. The man gripping me turned his head to glance toward her, the rays of light falling upon his face; with a gasp of astonishment I recognized my antagonist to be Colonel Donald.
"Bring me something to tie the fellow with, Jean," he called, still crushing me relentlessly down. "The belt there on the coat-rack will answer."
I saw her put down the lamp on a small table, stepping backward to do so, yet without removing her eyes from us. She acted dazed, like one unable as yet to comprehend the situation.
"Don't you hear, Jean? Bring me the belt."
"Yes, I hear," she had found her voice at last, "but what does all this mean? What are you doing here? That is Lieutenant King, and there is no reason why you should bind him."
He brought his eyes from her face to mine, loosened his grip of me, and rose to his knees. By this time the girl, having recovered from her first surprise, began eagerly to explain.
"He is not trying to escape. I let him out of the cellar, and he gave me his pledge not to run away. He was here with me watching the house, only I fell asleep. That was all I knew until I heard you struggling."
"You released him? What for?"
"Miss Denslow was frightened," I said, catching my breath painfully, "she believed the murderer of Lieutenant Navarre was still concealed in the house. I was here in the dark waiting when you came down the stairs. I supposed you to be the assassin."
Donald laughed, rising to his feet, and bending forward to grasp the girl's hands.
"So that was it, Jean dear. And I gave you a bad scare. You must forgive me, for it was unintentional. I came back hurriedly, without waiting for my men. They are widely scattered, and it will require several hours yet to bring them together. I could not bear to think of your being here alone. I came in through a secret passage, never dreaming any one would be hiding in this darkness.'
He glanced down at me, where I had lifted myself upon one elbow. "You should have shot me, Lieutenant."
"And I am very glad I did not," I returned honestly. "I hoped to capture the prowler so as to vindicate myself of crime."
"Sincerely I wish you might have proven so fortunate, for I am far from being convinced myself that you are capable of such a deed. My little Jean, here, must possess great confidence in you."
I caught a glimpse of Jean Denslow, standing white-faced, holding a lamp.
"I do," she broke in earnestly, "I would stake my life upon his innocence."
For a moment Big Donald looked searchingly into her face then down at mine. Finally he held out his hand, and helped me to my feet.
"You shall have the benefit of the doubt. Lieutenant King," he said, somewhat sternly, "for I have reason to trust this young lady's judgment. However, as a mere military precaution I must ask for your weapons."
An instant I hesitated, feeling that now he had come, my pledge to Miss Denslow had been fulfilled; that any opportunity to escape was justly mine. This giant might be able to crush me in his arms, yet, with weapons in our hands, he stood on even ground, and I was tempted to fight It out then and there. He read the temptation in my eyes, his lips smiling, his hand extended for my revolvers. What a fine-looking fellow he was, his face representative of character, strong, manly, his entire bearing indicative of force, and cool, resourceful courage! The light of the lamp revealed his clearly chiselled features, and the threads of gray in his hair. Suddenly, in a a flash, there came to me a strange thought—here was a man to be loved, to be loved of woman. "Dear Jean, he had called her, "dear Jean." The words seemed to burn me as I recalled them. He seemed the older, twenty years or more; but what of that? The difference was not too great to be spanned by love, and he was one to appeal to the imagination of such as she. Hesitating still I saw her leaning forward, eagerly watching our faces, puzzled by our attitude. Her hand touched his sleeve, the light of the lamp glimmering in her hair, her eyes full of pleading. My mouth hardened, the grip of my fingers on the revolver butt tightening. It seemed to me I understood: it was Donald, not Calvert Dunn, who stood between us.
"Please, gentlemen, do not quarrel; at least not here, not now. See, I stand between you."
"Lieutenant King is very slow in delivering his weapons," said Donald quietly. "He has perhaps forgotten I am the victor here."
The words were plainly a threat, but it was the look in her eyes which decided me.
"You overpowered me with your strength," I returned coldly, "but the only one I have surrendered to in this house is Miss Denslow. I give her my weapons, not you."
"Oh, as you please," his lips still smiling. "Jean, dear, disarm the fellow, and let us get at other work."
"Jean, dear," the words stung, they were so coolly uttered, so redolent of endearment; yet as she held out her hands, I placed my revolvers in them, noting the flush upon her clear cheek, the sudden drooping of lashes over her eyes. I felt hat I understood it all now, my heart heavy from the discovery—her dislike of Calvert Dunn arose from her love for Jem Donald. I had been a fool, dreaming the bright, tinted dreams of a fool. But I would keep that secret to myself; neither he nor she should ever know.
"And now that I am disarmed, Colonel Donald, what do you propose doing with me?"
"As you are Miss Denslow's prisoner, rather than mine, he answered carelessly, "I propose doing nothing more serious than to see you do not escape. She, I believe, has placed you upon parole within the limits of this house. Is this true, Jean?"
She lifted her eyes to his face as if to read his real purpose behind the kindly banter of his voice; then, smiling, glanced at me.
"Yes, paroled, on the word of an officer and gentleman."
"Good; I accept the same, believing Lieutenant King will justify my faith. Now let us work together, and search the house, beginning with the library."
We passed into the dimly lighted room together, but I permitted the two to advance, thinking it best not to arouse the vitriolic tongue of the Judge, and hence keeping well back within the shadows. His was a strange posture in which to sleep so long, his head lying sideways upon his arm, with face partially upturned toward the light. Suddenly Jean uttered a startled cry, so full of alarm as to cause me to leap forward. I saw Donald lift the head of the old man, then drop it, and stare about in dazed bewilderment. The man was dead; dead, with a knife wound in the throat.
CHAPTER XVII
THE TABLES TURNED
WE realized the truth, all of us at the same moment, yet were unable to grasp, comprehend its full significance, staring first at the dead man, and then into one another's faces in a bewilderment beyond expression. To me it came like a fresh accusation, a new link in the chain binding me. Dead! killed in the same manner, and by the same hand which had stricken down Navarre! How had it been done? When had it been done? Was this man dead all the hours we sat n the hall yonder, or had the assassin stolen past us in the darkness, and committed the crime while we watched? I had not slept: I could have sworn to that; more, the posture of the Judge was the same as when I first glanced in at him through the open door. I saw the girl drop upon her knees, burying her face upon the nearest chair; then Donald, with lips firm set and white face, lifted the emaciated form tenderly, crossed the room with it in his arms, and placed it outstretched upon the sofa. For a moment of silence he stood there motionless, gazing down upon the ghastly countenance, his shoulders bent, his giant form casting a shapeless shadow upon the wall. Then he turned, and looked me sternly, searchingly in the eyes.
"What have you to say to this?" he questioned bluntly, pointing with one hand back at the body. "If you have been on guard, sir, how could this have happened?"
"The deed must have been done before I was released. When first I looked in here Judge Dunn rested in the same position in which you found him."
"Neither of you came into the room?"
"No; not so as to approach the table. Miss Denslow thought the sight of me would arouse his anger."
She lifted her head, looking up at us from where she still knelt, tears shining on her long lashes.
"I came in after the revolver belt," she said, her voice trembling, "but Lieutenant King did not even enter the room."
Donald's form straightened, his voice gruffer than I remembered hearing it before.
"But you were asleep, Jean, when I came down the stairs. Lieutenant King had left his chair, and was in the front of the hall."
I took a deep breath, realizing afresh the peril of my position, the weakness of my defence. The girl spoke, pleadingly, brokenly.
"But he could not have done this; Lieutenant King could not have done this. The thought is impossible. He is not a murderer, but a soldier."
Donald stood between us, erect, motionless, his lips firmly set, his eyes upon mine.
"I do not know what to think, Jean." he said with a grave deliberateness, "I only know every circumstance points to this man, and leaves no doubt as to my own duty. If Lieutenant King can clear himself I will be first to take his hand." His fingers dropped to the butt of his revolver. "You are my prisoner; unclasp your belt."
He had not drawn his weapon, yet he might as well have had it pointed at my head, as the slightest hostile movement on my part would have been met instantly. Yet I stood motionless, speechless, with hands as numb as my brain, staring into his face which was as stern and unemotional as marble.
"You hear me, sir; unclasp your belt."
"But," I stammered, "I am—"
The girl came between us, her face uplifted, her eyes shining.
"Lieutenant King is my prisoner, not yours," she cried indignantly. "He gave me his parole, and I returned to him his revolvers. He will keep his word to me."
She held out her hands, and, scarcely realizing what I did, impelled to action by the expression of her face, I unclasped the belt, and extended it to her. With the action my calmness seemed to return, my brain cleared.
"Miss Denslow is right," I said quietly, "I am her prisoner on parole, and I keep my pledge to her."
Great as the sacrifice was, the quick flash of her eyes repaid me fully, and I looked beyond her shoulder into Colonel Donald's stern-set face.
"I am helpless to resist, for you are armed and I am not," I said firmly, "but I appeal to you as a soldier to deal fairly with me. I pledge you my word not to attempt an escape, but I wish the privilege of searching the house for evidence to clear me of this charge of murder. You are an honorable man; give me an opportunity to prove that I am one also."
He scarcely hesitated.
"And if you fail you will accompany me to the Confederate lines without resistance?"
"Yes; whether I succeed or fail, I am a prisoner of war. I understand that clearly; but I am not a murderer."
It is hard to say what influence worked with me, but the stern lines of Donald's face relaxed, his hand falling to his side.
"Lieutenant King," he acknowledged quietly, "it seems impossible for me not to believe you. I have always felt I was a judge of men, and I am going to trust you now Perhaps it is for your sake, and perhaps it is because I feel Jean wishes me to—"
"I do wish it," she interposed softly.
"That is easily seen; you shall have your wish, and Lieutenant King his opportunity. How do you propose proceeding?"
I hesitated, my eyes upon both faces
"I am informed," I began finally, "that this house contains a hidden room, and a secret passage leading without."
The Colonel's glance dropped to the face of the girl.
"You little traitress!"
"Don't say that," the depths of the gray-blue eyes dark with indignation. "I told him that because I trusted him, and believed he ought to know what I suspected."
"But who told you?"
"Calvert Dunn; but that was all he told—merely that such things existed."
"Even that was enough to ruin their usefulness when repeated to a Yankee. I am surprised at you, Jean."
"Miss Denslow gave me no information of value," I hastened to explain. "The mere knowledge that such a place exists means nothing so long as I am unable to trace it. I have asked her nothing, but I do ask you—is there such a hidden entry, such a secret room, and may I search them?"
The man and the soldier seemed warring in his mind before he could reply, but the man won.
"Yes, they exist; built with the house, for protection against feudists, and with no thought of war. But they can be of no service to you, as I came that way entering the house and met no one."
"You bore a light?"
"No; the passage is a familiar one."
"Yet you might have passed some one skulking there in the dark; some one who may have left behind evidence of his presence. It seems to me, Colonel Donald, that is where we should look; that justice to me demands such investigation."
"But how could any one who is an enemy to the occupants of this house have discovered the passage?"
"That I do not know, but some one has certainly been here to-night. Whoever it was, he came by way of none of the ordinary entrances. You must acknowledge that. If I am not the guilty man, and I swear in the presence of God I am not, then the assassin must have come by the way of the secret passage. He may have found it by accident, but it has served his purpose, and a search of it might give us his trail. I plead with you for this opportunity to vindicate myself."
What he saw in the countenance of the girl, as his eyes fell from mine to her face, I cannot tell, but his expression softened perceptibly, a slight smile curling his lips.
"You have an advocate here. Lieutenant, who does not need to speak in order to influence me. I would not be justified in conducting you through this passage in person. The secret is mine merely in trust, but I will deal fairly with you. I have accepted your parole, and am going to leave you here with Jean, while I take a light and make a careful exploration. Is this satisfactory?"
I bowed in silence, fully aware I had no right to expect more. He stepped back, drew an afghan up over the motionless body lying on the lounge, and advanced to the door.
"You will not attempt to leave this room until I return," he said, pausing to glance back at us.
"I will not, Colonel Donald."
"I may be doing wrong," he admitted, as if arguing the matter with himself, "but I seem to have imbibed some of Jean's faith."
We heard his steps in the hall; then our ears followed his movements as he went up the stairs. Our eyes met.
"Your confidence in me is more than I have any right to expect," I ventured, feeling I must speak.
"Perhaps it is woman's intuition," she replied quietly, "although in his heart I believe Colonel Donald is equally convinced of your innocence. Had he not been he would never have left you alone to my guarding."
"He is a strong man, mentally and physically; I don't think I ever saw a nobler face. It's difficult for me to think of him as a leader of guerillas."
"Nor is he, in the sense you mean. He commands irregulars, it is true, but he is doing a real service for the Confederacy, and protecting life and property in this region. No man could be more humane, more merciful. Yet he has done you Yankees greater harm than some division commanders."
"You are evidently a good friend to Colonel Donald."
"I am more than that," soberly, her eyes on mine, "I am nearer to him than any one else."
She made the confession as though it were the most natural thing in the world, without embarrassment. It was true, then, as I had suspected, her love for Donald was the real obstacle between her and Calvert Dunn. It was because of this also that she could treat me with such easy comradeship as to cause me to dream dreams. Plain as the revelation appeared I must have it yet more direct in statement. I could not yield the hopes I had begun to cherish until her own lips made such yielding imperative.
"I do not understand, Miss Denslow," the feeling in my voice rendering it tremulous, "this relationship between you and Colonel Donald?"
Her eyes uplifted to mine, frankly puzzled by my question, yet with no purpose to avoid an answer.
"Nor can I explain to you, a stranger. Indeed I may have said too much already. But what is that?"
There was no doubt as to what it was—the pounding of horses' hoofs on the ash-hardened driveway without. Young Dunn, no doubt, with a squad of Confederate troopers, come to carry me off as prisoner. The same thought was in both our minds, yet we remained speechless, motionless, until some one began pounding at the front door. I was first to find my voice.
"I am a prisoner; you had better ask what they want."
She advanced to the door, calling through the wood to the impatient man without.
"What is it? Who are you?"
"A squadron of Federal cavalry; open the door before we break it down."
She shrank back, gasping as though for breath, her hands pressed against her heart, and I caught her arm thinking she would fall. With the first throb of delight, I made my own decision.
"Don't fear, Miss Denslow; let me treat with them." I whispered swiftly. "I will not betray you. Run upstairs to him, and remain quiet until we ride away."
Her eyes, bright with gratitude, flashed into mine; I felt the pressure of her hand, and the next instant she was flying up the steps, casting one swift glance backward as she disappeared. Again the man without hammered at the door, this time with the butt of a carbine. I flung it wide open, and faced him. My first glance fell upon a cavalry sergeant, a stockily built fellow with a bristling moustache, who took a hasty step back, at my sudden appearance, his carbine thrust viciously forward. Before either of us could speak a voice exclaimed from the darkness,—
"Begorra, but it's the Leftenant hisself!"
I stepped out of the light, dimly perceiving a group of men and horses below, with an indistinct smudge of forms on the veranda.
"Was that you spoke, O'Brien?" I questioned sharply.
"It's niver a wan else," and he thrust himself toward me, his round, impudent face becoming visible, "an' damned glad I am to foind ye well an' hearty, sor."
"Yes, I am all right; have passed through a bit of a rough time, but am unharmed. Who have you with you?"
"A squad of the Third Ohio, sor. They was the first blue-coats I came across when I sthruck the loines."
I took a long breath, my heart beating rapidly.
"What has become of Daniels?" I asked, peering into his face.
"Well, I don't exactly know, sor. After we'd hunted for you for about three hours or more, we decided you must have got into some sort of a trap, an' the two of us rode back to the loines so soon as it was dark enough to travel. We got word in to Rosy, an' he ordered Daniels to headquarters, an' sent me out huntin' you. That's the last I saw of Bill."
"He was with you, then, all the time until you got back to the lines?"
"He never got twinty feet away, sor."
I stood staring at him, more puzzled and perplexed than ever. It was not Daniels, then: not Daniels. I glanced back into the lighted hall, oppressed by the mystery, all my previous theories shattered. The sergeant broke in, anxious to expedite matters.
"I'd like to have the straight of this thing, sir, and get my men back into camp. Is there anything to be done here?"
"No; there are only two women in the house," I replied, making up my mind quickly what I should tell. "When I first got in here Big Donald and two other Confederate officers were present, and I was made captive by a trick. Later I was left under guard of the women while the men went after a squad to take me into the Rebel lines. In the meanwhile there were some strange happenings here: two men were mysteriously killed."
"Killed? How?"
"By a knife thrust in the throat. In fear for their own lives the ladies released me, but we have searched the house without finding trace of the murderer. One body was removed, but the other lies yonder in the library."
The sergeant stared at me. as though scarcely comprehending my words, while O'Brien's eyes were on the lighted hall.
"That's a queer sort of a yarn, sir."
"Ay, it is, sergeant, and the more you know of the details the queerer it gets."
I was outside on the porch, my eyes by this time somewhat accustomed to the darkness. The sergeant and O'Brien were facing me, while a number of the troopers had left their horses to he held by comrades, and were grouped together on the lower steps, the rays of the hall light illuminating their faces. I could perceive the sweep of the ash-covered driveway, the thick fringe of bushes beyond. Suddenly they turned to flame before my eyes; there was a roar, a blaze of light, a rearing of horses, the stamping of hoofs, a wild shriek, frightened voices yelling, strangely distorted forms outlined in the glare. I saw the group on the steps fall apart as if cleaved by a tongue of flame; O'Brien leaped back into the shadow, and the sergeant fell like a stone, striking me as he went down and driving me back against the frame of the door. An instant I was dazed, stupefied. Then I heard the mad yell of the Confederacy, and knew the truth. We were attacked, ambushed, routed; our only hope the getting under cover.
"To the house, men, the house!" I shouted, my voice louder than the tumult. "Leave your horses, and make for the house!"
They came with the rush of terror, leaping, stumbling up the steps, and struggling into the hall. How many came, how many remained behind, I could not tell; two fell on the porch, and one, still living but helpless blocked the doorway. There was a crash of shots, a smudge of figures below; O'Brien grasped the fellow and flung him within, and I slammed the door, sliding the heavy bolt into its socket.
CHAPTER XVIII
AT THE FIREPLACE
THERE was no time to organize for defence, or hesitate as to action. I saw that mob of frightened men crowding the hall, some armed, others weaponless, their laces blanched with terror, not a few bleeding from wounds. Bullets crashed into the door; there were veils without, and the sound of feet on the porch.
"Into the rooms, men, and return the fire from the windows," I commanded sharply. "Lively now, but lie low, so as not to get hit. We can beat them back before they break in. O'Brien, take charge at the right—take a squad with you. Here, you fellows, come with me."
They were veteran soldiers, and the decisive voice of command was all they needed. I saw O'Brien dive into the black parlor, a dozen troopers following, and I leaped through the open library door, blowing out the light upon the table, then flinging myself on the floor as I crept to the front windows. How many were with me I was unable to determine, yet I could hear them as they stumbled forward through the darkness. Nor were we in position a moment too soon, already hands without were wrenching at the shutter, and the butt of a carbine sent a shower of shattered glass into my face. There was a dim figure visible and I fired, the fellow staggering back with an oath, his gun clattering on the porch. There followed a sharp spitting of carbines on either side, the fellows shooting recklessly, the light of discharge revealing retreating figures without, the heavy smoke choking us in the ill-ventilated room. I made myself heard above the uproar.
"Hold your fire, men; they have left the porch."
I peered out through the broken glass, but could perceive nothing except a dead body.
"How many rounds have you?"
"Forty, sir," a voice answered to my right.
"Good enough; keep your carbines loaded, and watch sharp, but don't fire unless you see something to shoot at. Any non-com here?"
"I am a corporal, sir."
"What name?"
"Masterson, Troop D, Third Ohio."
"Crawl around and post two men at each window; send the others to me in the hall. You remain here and take command, while I look after the rest of the house. You understand, Corporal?"
"Yes, sir; you men sing out your names."
The responses came through the darkness, and the Corporal made choice instantly: "I'll keep Pratt, Stevens, Williamson, Craig, Jones, and Watt. You other men go with the Leftenant."
They were still firing in the parlor, the flashes of the guns giving me a glimpse of the room as I peered in through the door, but the smoke was so thick I could distinguish little.
"Are you there, O'Brien?"
"I am, sor."
"What are you firing at?"
"Damn if I know, sor, only there was a heap of Johnnies outside whin we begun the racket. Wan or two of the boys got hit, sor."
"Sorry to hear that; have the wounded brought out into the hall; but first make your men stop shooting until they see something to aim at. We may need all our ammunition before we're done with this job. How large is your squad?"
"About a dozen, I reckon."
Keep six of them, and post two at each window. If they see anything move, fire at it. Send the others to me."
An occasional shot, fired apparently from some distance, chugged against the front door, but as this was of solid oak, little damage was being done, and there was no need for extinguishing the dim light still burning at the rear of the hall. I found just inside the door the bodies of two dead soldiers, and four men wounded, one so seriously so as to be helpless. As their comrades crawled forth from the rooms on either side, I counted fourteen fit for duty. This number should prove sufficient for the defence of the lower story, and I hastily assigned them, two by two, to points where it seemed to me they might prove most useful, giving them careful instruction, and making them realize their lives depended on vigilance. The house stood high above the ground that few of the windows were accessible from without, and, if those engaged in the defence kept close to the floor, they were in little danger of being struck by stray bullets.
Satisfied at last that every point of vantage was occupied, I returned to the front hall, and, encouraged by the stillness without, detailed Masterson and O'Brien at attending to the wounded, with whatever materials they could find at hand. For the first time since the crash of that opening volley, I now had a moment for reflection, and sat down on the stairs, my mind busied in an endeavor to comprehend the situation. Those who had attacked us would be either Dunn's squad of Confederates, or Donald's irregulars, perhaps both. If the two commands were united they might be in sufficient force to keep us busy; anyway a sortie would be impracticable before daylight. Dunn, of course, would have merely a handful of men with him, as he anticipated no more serious duty than the guarding of a single prisoner; but the number of Donald's guerillas in the neighborhood could not be guessed, and, if they had rallied in any numbers, our besiegers might easily outnumber us two to one. Besides, they would be seasoned fighters, familiar with the ground, knowing all the tricks of night raiding. To be sure a delay until daylight might greatly increase the number of the enemy, as the scattered irregulars were drawn in, yet my own men would work with greater confidence when they could see the force opposing them. Besides, we were well protected here, with sufficient ammunition for a stubborn defence, and doubtless good enough in the house to sustain us for a day or two.
If Dunn was in command without I did not anticipate anything in the nature of a reckless attack. Nothing I had yet seen of Calvert Dunn had impressed me with either his courage or his capacity; and the almost total cessation of firing told of weakness either in numbers or command. It seemed to me an energetic leadership would have stormed the house before we could have arranged for its defence. I drew my breath quickly, suddenly possessed by a new fear. What about Big Donald? What about the secret passage? If he had escaped, got safe away, it would put a new face on everything. There would be no question as to the fierceness of the fighting if he commanded yonder. He was a different stamp of man from the Staff Lieutenant. What would he do first? Try a flank movement, endeavoring to take us in the rear, by means of the secret passage? The silence without, the sudden cessation of open attack in front, immediately became ominous, as this thought occurred to me. Here was the real danger, the important point for defence. But where could I seek? My only scrap of knowledge was that Donald had entered by way of the second story, and he had departed up the stairs. The entrance, then, must be above. There was a light still burning at the head of the circular staircase, but I could distinguish no sound, no indication of movement. Yet a moment of delay might cost us dear.
"O'Brien!"
He was wrapping a strip of cloth tightly about a wounded arm, but he stopped, glancing back at me across his shoulder.
"Yis, sor."
"Who did you leave in command in the parlor?"
"A young fellow be the name of Summers, sor; he seemed to loike foightin'."
"Well, let Masterson finish that nursing job, and come with me. Bring your gun along."
We mounted to the top of the staircase, seeing and hearing nothing. Both back and front of the upper hallway were in shadow, and I paused a moment while briefly explaining to my companion the nature of our errand. His keen eyes peered back and forth as he listened.
"It's most loikely to be connected with the foireplace yonder, sor," he volunteered, pointing straight ahead.
"So it seems to me," I admitted, "but we shall have to go over every inch of this floor to be certain. You go back there and stand guard while I rummage through the rooms."
It was not a pleasant task, the doors all being tightly closed, and the rooms in darkness. Besides, the two young women were probably in hiding there somewhere, unless Miss Jean had accompanied Donald and escaped from the house. Yet I hardly thought that probable, for the latter had ample time to enter the passage before the girl had left me in the lower hall. However, the thought of her caused me to rap at each door before venturing to open it, although such warning added to my own peril if any armed enemy was lurking within. And as to that I could not know. Donald might still be in the house, yet I had less fear of his resistance than of sudden, murderous attack by the mysterious assassin who had already taken two lives and escaped unseen. Yet, revolver in hand, determined to search every nook and corner. I began with the front chambers, sounding their walls, testing their floors, and feeling my way about until convinced I had left no inch unexplored. Miss Dunn was in the third room visited, calling out in hysterical voice to my rap, begging to know what I wanted, yet urging me to leave her alone. She was so thoroughly frightened that, after finding her door locked, I endeavored to reassure her through the keyhole, but heard nothing in return but the girl's sobs. Satisfied that she was alone, I left her to her misery.
I searched two other rooms, including the one wherein I had found Navarre's body. This I knew was Jean's chamber, yet I was in no way surprised at not discovering her there, as the memory of the murder would be sufficient to keep her from venturing within. Yet everything I touched reminded me of her, especially the various accessories to a lady’s toilet on the dressing table, and the numerous garments hanging in the closet. However, I found nothing disturbed, and no evidence that any one had been there since the removal of the Lieutenant's body. My heart was beating rapidly as I came forth once more into the hall, and tried the door of the apartment opposite. It was locked, and I rapped softly. There was a rustle within, and Jean's voice:
"Who is it?"
"Lieutenant King. Will you speak with me a moment?"
I heard the lock turn, the door open creakingly, and she stood before me, her face calm, but her eyes troubled. Scarcely knowing what to say, I hesitated, and she broke out with a swift question:
"What is it? What has happened? You have been fighting below?"
"Yes, Miss Denslow, but nothing which need alarm you. Affairs have changed very rapidly, but you can remain here in perfect safety. The Federal troop of cavalry which came to my assistance were suddenly fired on by parties concealed in the shrubbery. We lost a number of men, but the survivors succeeded in getting into the house, and have driven their assailants back. Just now it is quiet on both sides, but the truce is probably not lasting."
"What soldiers came to aid you?"
"A troop of Ohio Cavalry, under guidance of one of my scouts."
"Not—not Bill Daniels?" Her eyes were dark with horror, and for the first time I realized that she shared with me the belief that this man was responsible for the many horrors of the night.
"No, he was not with them," I assured her, clasping her hand in sudden desire to give comfort. "He is now in the Federal lines, and has not been here at all. Whoever the murderer may be, he is not Daniels."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely so; my other scout, O'Brien, who is on guard yonder, asserts that Daniels was never out of his sight until after they returned to camp. He is a simple-hearted Irish lad, and, I believe, speaks the truth."
She looked from my face down in the hall to where the lad was barely visible amid the far shadows, her hand still within mine, as if she clung to me unconsciously. Then her eyes came back questioningly to my own.
"What—what is he doing there?"
"Merely watching the hall while I search the rooms."
I could see the doubt in the blue-gray depths of her eyes, while her hand dropped from mine, and the lines of her mouth hardened.
"Search the rooms? Why should you search the rooms?"
"Because we cannot afford to be taken by surprise from the rear. I am hunting for the secret passage."
"Is—is that why you stationed him way back there?"
The question was innocent enough, natural enough, yet it instantly awoke my suspicion. She knew now where that entrance was. She may not have known before, but now she did. Donald must have still been in the hall when she came up stairs, and he had been compelled to reveal to her his means of escape from the house. And we must have guessed right, for it was O'Brien's position which alarmed her. Perhaps I could surprise the girl into a partial confession.
"I stationed him there," I said quietly, "because I believe that fireplace hides the secret. And now we are going to find out."
An instant I thought the shot had carried home, but only an instant. Then her eyes smiled, almost mockingly.
"That is very bright of you, I am sure, but really I think you are mistaken. Have you searched all the rooms?"
"All except those to the rear."
"I have never looked into those myself," she confessed. "May I go with you? Truly, I am as anxious to uncover this mysterious passage as you are."
She laid her hand upon my sleeve, yet I clung to my first suspicion, determined now to be satisfied with nothing less than a thorough examination of the fireplace.
"Certainly, you may go with me," I answered carelessly. "But the rooms can wait; that big chimney looks to me the more promising."
Convinced by the expression on her face, not only that she knew the truth but that I was upon the right trail, I started toward the rear of the hall, never glancing behind, yet aware that Miss Jean was following. In appearance it was a strange, old-fashioned fireplace, nothing more; large enough to contain a great back log, and overshadowed by a huge mantel. The opening was concealed by an iron fire-screen, leaving nothing visible to arouse suspicion, yet the apparent size of the chimney, and that such a fireplace should be located here upon the second floor, appeared sufficiently odd to merit close attention.
"Have you heard or seen anything, O'Brien?" I asked, as I came up.
"Not a thing, sor," his eyes on the girl, "only the wind. There's a powerful dhraft blowin' up the chimney."
"No doubt; it is large enough to contain a hurricane. Lay hold of the screen, and let us see what it looks like inside."
He leaned his carbine against the wall, and grasped what appeared to be the handle of the iron sheet. It failed to yield to his effort, and I laid hold with him, thinking it was probably caught in some manner. We tugged together, but the thing was immovable. Surprised, I bent forward, striving in the dim light to discover the cause, and running my hand along the edge. Instantly I comprehended; the screen was bolted fast. I stepped back, convinced we had at last uncovered the secret, and turned my face toward Miss Denslow. She stood motionless covering us both with O'Brien's levelled carbine.
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