CHAPTER XX.CONCLUSION.

THE prisoner, whom Mark had left securely bound, was standing in front of the mouth of the passage-way, trying to peer through the darkness that obscured it, and over his shoulder we could see the faces of the rest of the Dragoons, and also the scowling visages of Luke Redman and Pete, the half-breed. The robber was angrier than ever, and was swearing loudly.

“It’s lucky I thought to send Barney around here, ain’t it?” we heard him say. “Them boys would have been out an’ gone in five minutes more. They’re smarter than the hull lot on us put together. What’s to be done?”

“Let’s hide in these yere bushes an’ ketch ’em when they come out,” suggested Barney. “Jake, s’pose you go in thar an’ lay downag’in like you was tied, so they won’t know thar’s any thing wrong.”

“Wal, now, s’pose you go yourself,” retorted Jake. “You’re mighty willin’ to send other fellows into danger, hain’t you? None on us ain’t a-goin’ in thar to face the buckshot in them guns. Send the dogs in, pap; that’s the way to bring ’em out.”

Luke Redman was prompt to act upon this suggestion. He set up a shout, and in a few seconds the hounds appeared and crowded into the mouth of the passage-way; while Mark, Tom and I stationed ourselves side by side and cocked both barrels of our guns in readiness to give them a warm reception.

But we soon found that we had nothing to fear from them. They made the passage echo with their baying, and acted fiercely enough to tear a regiment of men in pieces, but not one of them could be induced to advance a single step beyond the opening.

Luke scolded, urged and threatened in vain. Becoming highly enraged at last, he jumped among them, and kicking right and left with his heavy boots, cleared the mouth ofthe passage as quickly as a volley from our double-barrels would have done.

Having disposed of the dogs, Luke stormed about at a great rate, shaking his fists in the air and stamping the ground with fury.

“We had oughter been on our way to the river long ago,” said he. “The hull settlement will be gallopin’ through these woods in less’n an hour, an’ if we’re here then, we’re booked for the lock-up, sure. But I ain’t a-goin’ to stir one step till I get that money. Call the dogs ag’in, Barney, an’ I’ll go in with ’em. I reckon they’ll foller me. What’s that ar’?”

As Luke Redman asked this question, the savage scowl vanished and his face grew white with terror. For a moment he and his companions stood as if they had been rooted to the ground, casting frightened glances through the cane on all sides of them, and then with a common impulse they scattered right and left, and were out of sight in a twinkling.

We were not long in finding out what had caused their alarm, for just then the clear, ringing blast of a hunting-horn echoed through the woods, followed by a chorus of the samekind of music, which, coming from all directions, told us that the island was surrounded. Hounds yelped, men shouted, the tramping of horses’ hoofs came faintly to our ears, and then five dogs, my own faithful Zip among the number, dashed past the mouth of the passage-way, closely followed by Sandy, Duke and Herbert.

“Hurrah!” we all shouted at once. “We’re safe now. The settlers have come at last.”

Mark and the young Indian sprang down the passage, and I was about to follow them when Tom laid his hand on my arm.

“Joe,” said he, “I will give this valise and gun into your care, and will thank you to see that they are restored to their owners. I know you will do this much for me, for it is the last favor I shall ask of you.”

I took the articles in question as Tom handed them to me, and when I raised my eyes to look at him, he was gone. He had jumped past me, dashed out of the passage, and disappeared into the bushes before I could say a word to him.

I was not long in following him. Holding the guns over my shoulder with one hand, and grasping the valise with the other, I ran out into the cane just in time to place myself in the way of some swiftly moving body, which struck me with such force that I was whirled through the air as if I had been thrown from the cow-catcher of a locomotive. The guns flew out of my hand, but involuntarily I tightened my grasp on the valise.

“Aha!” exclaimed a gruff voice; “things is comin’ out all right, arter all. The money is mine an’ so is the mar’.”

Almost as soon as I touched the ground, I raised myself on my elbow, and when I had taken a single glance at the horse standing before me, I comprehended the situation.

It was Black Bess, and the man who was dismounting from her was Luke Redman.

He had by some means succeeded in securing the horse and eluding the settlers, and was riding at full speed through the cane, when I had run directly in his path and been knocked down—a circumstance which the outlaw regardedas favorable to himself, although it turned out exactly the reverse.

He probably imagined that I was badly injured by the hard fall I had received, and he must have been astonished at the determined resistance he met with when he rushed up to me and attempted to take the valise out of my hand.

I have no idea how long the struggle continued, for my brain was in a great whirl, and I took no note of time. All I knew was that I must hold fast to that money.

I was dragged about through the cane, beaten on the head by Luke Redman’s hard fist, and when at last he tore the valise from my grasp, I threw my arms about his legs and pitched him headlong on the ground.

Just as this happened, I heard a furious crashing in the cane, several dark objects bounded over me and commenced a desperate battle with my antagonist, cries of pain and ejaculations of surprise rang in my ears, and then all was blank to me. Some of the settlers, with their dogs, had arrived just in time.

It was dark when my consciousness returned.At first I did not know where I was or what was the matter with me, but gradually the remembrance of the scenes through which I had passed during the afternoon came back to me, and I started up in alarm, expecting to find myself once more a prisoner in the hands of the robber band.

A single look, however, was enough to satisfy me that I was among friends, and that I had nothing to fear. I was lying on a blanket in front of a blazing fire, and father and our fellows were stretched out on the ground beside me.

Camp-fires were shining in every direction among the trees, and around them reposed the stalwart forms of the settlers, all sleeping soundly after the fatigues of the day. A short distance off lay General Mason, with his valise under his head for a pillow, and a little further on stood Black Bess.

Under a tree, on the opposite side of the fire, lay every one of those who had belonged to the party which made the attack on our camp—Tom Mason excepted—securely bound, and watched over by two armed sentinels.

There was no one stirring in the camp, and the silence was broken only by the crackling of the fires, the sighing of the wind through the leafless branches above our heads, and the low murmur of the conversation kept up by the guards.

The feeling of comfort and safety I experienced was refreshing, indeed, after my day of excitement. I lay for a long time thinking over my adventures, and looking through the trees toward the spot whereon had stood the robber’s stronghold, now reduced to a glowing bed of coals, and at last sank into a deep slumber.

The next morning I awoke to find that all our fellows were looked upon as heroes, and that the lion’s share of the honors had been accorded to me. All the planters wanted to hear my story, and during the ride homeward I had a crowd of eager listeners about me all the time.

Our prisoners were lodged in jail at three o’clock that afternoon, and at the next term of the court they were dealt with according to their deserts. Luke Redman’s plea, that hedid not steal the money from General Mason, did not avail him. He had twice been caught with it in his possession, and that was enough for the jury who tried him; for he was sentenced to state’s prison for a long term of years, and the Swamp Dragoons, one and all, were sent to the Reform School.

There was evidence enough to convict Pete of setting fire to our cotton gin, and so Luke Redman had company when he went to prison. The rest of the half-breeds were ordered out of the country, and I think they went, for I never saw them afterward.

Taken altogether, it was a grand thinning out of rascals, and if no one else was glad of it, our fellows were.

“Mark Two Times” lost nothing by the services he rendered us. Father gave him a splendid horse; I sent to New Orleans, and bought him a silver-mounted rifle; Mark presented him with a gaudily-ornamented suit of buckskin; Duke gave him a couple of hounds; and, in fact, there was scarcely a person in the neighborhood who did not remember him in some way.

And what became of Tom Mason? I gave the valise into the general’s hands, accompanied by a hint that Tom had gone off to seek his fortune, and that it would be a long time before any of us would see him again; and I never saw a man so delighted and angry as he was—delighted to have his money back, and angry to learn that Tom had repaid his kindness by running away.

“The gold is all here,” said he, as he ran his hand over the shining pieces, “but I see that some of them are wet. I don’t suppose you fellows had opportunity to steal any of them. And so Tom has run away? Dear me! but won’t he be sorry? If he comes to my house, I’ll shut the door in his face. I won’t have such an ingrate about.”

Every one supposed that General Mason was very angry at his nephew, as, indeed, he was, but in a week or two it became known that he had sent his overseer up and down the river to learn something of Tom’s whereabouts; but he came back and reported that he had followed him as far as Memphis, and there all traces of him had been lost. I tellyou, I began to have some respect for Tom after that. He had only fifty dollars in his pocket that I knew anything about, and a boy that would start off with that amount of money and face the world had a good deal in him.

For a year nothing was heard of Tom Mason, and those who had business with the general noticed that he had got over a good deal of his “crankiness,” and that it was difficult to make him mad. Before that he used to fly off the handle without any cause whatever. Jerry Lamar was astonished at the general’s conduct, and well he might be. He and his father wanted to get off the place, for they did not want to live near a man who would accuse one of them of stealing five thousand dollars, but the general wouldn’t hear to it. He bought all their logs at good prices, and Jerry was in a fair way of making a man of himself. He began to pay more attention to General Mason, and often told us that he wished he had Tom where he could talk to him. He was certain that everything would be forgiven if Tom would only come back.

Another year passed without bringing any word from the runaway, and it finally got noised abroad in the settlement that he was dead. The old gentleman heard it, and he bent over a little at the shoulders and walked with a cane. It was plain that he loved Tom, and that nobody else could take his place. Six months more passed—Tom had now been gone two years and a half—when one morning I saw General Mason coming down the road faster than I had ever seen him ride before. He held an open letter in his hand, and beckoned me out to the bars. I had seldom seen a man so excited. He was laughing and crying, all at once, so that I could hardly understand him.

“That miserable Tom is alive and kicking,” said he. “Here’s a letter from him that tells me everything he has been through—six pages of it. You must answer it, for Iwon’twon’t. Write to him that if I had him here with a rawhide in my hand, I would make him shed tears to pay for all the agony he caused me, I bet you. Tell him, too, that everything has been forgotten and forgiven, and that if he will comeback I will receive him with open arms. I’ll teach the young scamp to run away from me!”

I wrote to Tom that night, away in some little town in Texas, and in due time he came home. I tell you, it would have bothered anybody in that settlement to take the rawhide to him. He was immense; the climate of Texas seemed to have agreed with him. He had been—but it is a long story, and there isn’ place for it in this book. Besides, I must bid you good-bye as a story-teller, for I am through writing about Tom. I will turn my history of him over to a cowboy who was with him on the Plains and who knows all about him. He promises me that he will soon begin the narrative of his wanderings in a book to be called “Elam Storm the Wolfer; or,The Lost Nugget.”

THE END.

‘SOCIAL‘SPIRITUALStudies in Human and Divine Inter-RelationshipBYRufus M. Jones, A.M., Litt. D.Professor of Philosophy in Haverford College, Pa.This is a fresh interpretation of the deepest problems of life. It discusses the most interesting phases of recent psychological investigation into spiritual subjects.“Professor Jones offers here a series of studies on the nature and meaning of Personality. He is at home in modern psychology and tells it effectively for his purpose in freedom from technicalities.”—The Outlook.“The author has written the twelve chapters of this book dealing with such subjects as The Meaning of Personality, The Realization of Persons, The Sub-Conscious Life, The Inner Light, etc., etc., with an aim to show through Psychology, as Drummond showed through Biology, that life can be unified from top to bottom.”—Christian Work and the Evangelist.“The author bears a unique equipment for the task, having studied Philosophy at Harvard under Royce and Palmer, and acquired the art of presenting it to untrained thinkers in his capacity of Professor of Philosophy at Haverford College.”—British Friend.12mo. 272 pages. Extra Vellum Cloth,Gilt Top, Uncut Edges. Price $1.25Net (Postage 10 Cents).THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANYPHILADELPHIA, PA.

‘SOCIAL‘SPIRITUALStudies in Human and Divine Inter-RelationshipBYRufus M. Jones, A.M., Litt. D.Professor of Philosophy in Haverford College, Pa.

‘SOCIAL

‘SPIRITUAL

Studies in Human and Divine Inter-Relationship

Rufus M. Jones, A.M., Litt. D.

Professor of Philosophy in Haverford College, Pa.

This is a fresh interpretation of the deepest problems of life. It discusses the most interesting phases of recent psychological investigation into spiritual subjects.

“Professor Jones offers here a series of studies on the nature and meaning of Personality. He is at home in modern psychology and tells it effectively for his purpose in freedom from technicalities.”—The Outlook.

“The author has written the twelve chapters of this book dealing with such subjects as The Meaning of Personality, The Realization of Persons, The Sub-Conscious Life, The Inner Light, etc., etc., with an aim to show through Psychology, as Drummond showed through Biology, that life can be unified from top to bottom.”—Christian Work and the Evangelist.

“The author bears a unique equipment for the task, having studied Philosophy at Harvard under Royce and Palmer, and acquired the art of presenting it to untrained thinkers in his capacity of Professor of Philosophy at Haverford College.”—British Friend.

12mo. 272 pages. Extra Vellum Cloth,Gilt Top, Uncut Edges. Price $1.25Net (Postage 10 Cents).

12mo. 272 pages. Extra Vellum Cloth,

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JACK BALLINGTON, FORESTERA novel, published 1911. Illustrated by George GibbsNet $1.20UNCLE WASH: HIS STORIESCharacter stories, published 1910. Illustrated by Lucas and Sykes$1.50THE OLD COTTON GINA poem, published 1910. Illustrated by Charles H. SykesNet $1.00THE BISHOP OF COTTONTOWNA story of the Southern cotton mills, published 1906. Illustrated by The Kinneys$1.50OLE MISTISand other Songs and Stories from Tennessee, published 1902. Illustrated$1.25A SUMMER HYMNALA Tennessee Romance, published 1901. Illustrated$1.25

JACK BALLINGTON, FORESTER

UNCLE WASH: HIS STORIES

THE OLD COTTON GIN

THE BISHOP OF COTTONTOWN

OLE MISTIS

A SUMMER HYMNAL

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A BOOK FOR OLD AND YOUNG

Told in language that interests both Old and Young. “Supersedes all other books of the kind.” Recommended by all Denominations for its freshness and accuracy; for its freedom from doctrinal discussion; for its simplicity of language; for its numerous and appropriate illustrations; as the best work on the subject. The greatest aid to Parents, Teachers and all who wish the Bible Story in a simplified form. 168 separate stories, each complete in itself, yet forming a continuous narrative of the Bible. 762 pages, nearly 300 half-tone illustrations, 8 in colors. Octavo.

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THE NORTH POLE SERIES.By Prof. Edwin J. Houston. This is an entirely new series, which opens a new field in Juvenile Literature. Dr. Houston has spent a lifetime in teaching boys the principles of physical and scientific phenomena and knows how to talk and write for them in a way that is most attractive. In the reading of these stories the most accurate scientific information will be absorbed.

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NOTABLE NOVELSandGIFT BOOKS OF VERSEBYJOHN TROTWOOD MOORE

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JACK BALLINGTON, FORESTER

The story concerns the fortunes of Jack Ballington, who, on account of his apparent lack of fighting qualities, seems to be in danger of losing his material heritage and the girl he loves, but in the stirring crisis he measures up to the traditions of his forefathers.

“Will captivate by its humor, set all the heart strings to vibrating by its pathos, flood one’s being in the great surge of patriotism ... a story that vastly enriches American fiction.”—Albany Times-Union.

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THE BISHOP OF COTTONTOWNA STORY OF THE TENNESSEE VALLEY

THE BISHOP OF COTTONTOWN

A STORY OF THE TENNESSEE VALLEY

Love, pathos and real humor run through the book in delightful measure. Over all is shed the light of the “Old Bishop,” endearing himself to every reader by his gentleness, his strength and his uncynical knowledge of the world which he finds so good to live in. 31 editions have already been sold.

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UNCLE WASH: HIS STORIES

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“One of the few great books.”—Rochester Union and Advertiser.“A mine of humor and pathos.”—Omaha World-Herald.

“One of the few great books.”—Rochester Union and Advertiser.

“A mine of humor and pathos.”—Omaha World-Herald.

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A SUMMER HYMNALA ROMANCE OF TENNESSEE

A SUMMER HYMNAL

A ROMANCE OF TENNESSEE

The story of Edward Ballington and his love affairs with two delightful girls in charming contrast, forms the plot of this captivating love story. On the threads ofthis narrative is woven the story of a blind man who meets the catastrophe of sudden darkness in a spirit of bravery, sweetness and resignation which commands the love and respect of every reader.

12mo. Cloth. 332 pages

SONGS AND STORIES FROM TENNESSEE

In truth Mr. Moore, in this collection of songs and stories of Dixie Land, has created a work that will live long in the traditions of the South and longer in the hearts of his readers. One has only to read “Ole Mistis,” the first story in this collection, to feel the power of Mr. Moore’s genius. It is at once the finest story of a horse race ever written, a powerful love story and most touchingly pathetic narrative of the faith and devotion of a little slave.

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