Silver Springs Camp Ground, June 23, 18—.The Rev. Jasper Very,Dear Mr. Very:—The Silver Springs Camp Meeting which began a few days ago is having fine success. It is well attended and many are beginning the Christian life.I had planned to make Thursday the great day of the feast; but Rev. Enoch Foy, who was to preach that evening, is sick and sends word he cannot come. In my extremity I turn to you and ask you to fill the gap without fail.Knowing how willing you always are to help a brother minister in need, I shall look for you without expecting a reply to this note. Please do not disappoint us. I send this message by Mr. John Boley, who returns to your neighborhood today.Sincerely yours in the Master's work,Ezra Thompson.
Silver Springs Camp Ground, June 23, 18—.
The Rev. Jasper Very,
Dear Mr. Very:—The Silver Springs Camp Meeting which began a few days ago is having fine success. It is well attended and many are beginning the Christian life.
I had planned to make Thursday the great day of the feast; but Rev. Enoch Foy, who was to preach that evening, is sick and sends word he cannot come. In my extremity I turn to you and ask you to fill the gap without fail.
Knowing how willing you always are to help a brother minister in need, I shall look for you without expecting a reply to this note. Please do not disappoint us. I send this message by Mr. John Boley, who returns to your neighborhood today.
Sincerely yours in the Master's work,
Ezra Thompson.
Jasper Very prayerfully considered the invitation and, as his engagements permitted him to accommodate his good friend Thompson, he decided to preach at the camp meeting. He little dreamed that all his future life was to be colored by that simple note. So often men's destinies turn upon apparently trivial events.
As the journey was long Jasper decided it would be pleasant to have a few of his friends accompany him. So he betook himself to Judge LeMonde's house and asked the Judge and his wife to make two of the party, but they had matters which forbade their going. He then spoke to Viola and George and requested them to go.
Early Thursday morning Jasper Very rang the doorbell at "Mount Pisgah." Miss Viola herself answered the bell and led the preacher into the drawing-room. She gave him this information: "George is to drive six of us to the camp meeting in our three-seated carriage. Miss Stella Nebeker will sit with George; on the middle seat my cousin, Miss Alice LeMonde, and Miss Bertha Nebeker, Stella's sister; and they have appointed you and me to occupy the third seat. The carriage will be driven up presently and we have a surprise for you; but do not get too excited."
The preacher could not imagine what the surprise was, but he had to possess his soul in patience. He had not to wait long for he presently heard the sound of wheels. He and Viola stepped out on the piazza.
What did he see? Reader, can you guess? No. He saw Velox. The noble horse was on the near side of the carriage and Prince on the off side.
Very cried out: "Of all things, if there isn't Velox! George, you naughty boy, why didn't you tell me? Where did you find him?"
The preacher ran to the splendid creature, proud, sleek and glossy as ever, and put his arm over his neck, and stroked and patted his face. "George you must tell me all about the way you succeeded in getting your horse back to the plantation."
George said: "Hold your horses, pastor, and when we are speeding in the carriage I will the tale relate."
The six were soon seated in the vehicle. George spoke to the willing horses and they were off, through the plantation grounds, along the county road to the river highway up which they were to travel twenty miles. It was a charming day in June and the road now was in fine condition. A gentle shower the night before had laid the dust and brightened the face of nature. The leaves on the stately forest trees were full grown and in perfection. The river to their right sparkled in the bright sunlight.
Presently George began his tale for the special benefit of the preacher, the rest having heard it in more or less detail:
"A few days ago I went down to Paducah to sell a large part of our abundant hay crop. I went to the big warehouse of Youtsey and Fry on one of the principal streets and was talking to Mr. Sydney Youtsey on the sidewalk, when I saw a splendid carriage drawn by two fine bay horses coming along the street. A Sambo, black as the ace of spades, was driving with a high sense of his importance; and in fact he handled the reins and whip like a professional. In the back seat reclined a portly gentleman, dressed in faultless style, and by his side his wife of ample proportions, also garbed in the height of fashion.
"While the turnout was some distance away I was sure that the near horse was Velox. As luck would have it the man in the carriage had some business with Youtsey and Fry and ordered Sambo to drive up to the curb. Greatly excited I cried out to Sydney Youtsey: 'That bay on the left is my Velox.' I hastened to the side of the carriage, and, lifting my hat, said to the man: 'Excuse me, sir, but that horse standing here next to the sidewalk is my animal, named Velox. He was stolen from my father's barn up country a few weeks ago by two desperate thieves. My name is George LeMonde, son of Judge William LeMonde, of 'Mount Pisgah.''
"The gentleman addressed expressed great surprise at this announcement, saying:
"'This is a very strange statement. For a long time I wanted a mate for my bay horse Hamlet and instructed my groom to visit the livery stables and other places where horses are kept for sale. He tried for weeks to find a suitable match, but without success. At last, going to one of the largest and most reputable stables in Paducah, he saw this animal you claim, and paying a large price for the same, brought him to my plantation just outside of the city.'
"'Probably,' I said, 'the man who brought Velox to the city gave him into the hands of a party who may have sold him to an honest and upright stable keeper from whom you bought the horse.'
"'But how do I know your story is true, that you own this horse?' the planter asked.
"I told him if his servant would drive the carriage into the warehouse and unharness the near horse, that I would convince him that he was my animal.
"The planter consented, and soon Velox was standing before us entirely free from his harness. I moved away from him about ten feet. Stretching out my right hand open toward him, I said in a quiet tone of voice: 'Come Velox, come to your master.' Instantly the horse walked up to me and touched my hand with his lips. I put my soft felt hat on my head, and spoke to the horse again: 'Come, Velox, and lift my hat off my head.' He walked up to me the second time and, seizing my hat between his teeth, gently raised it from my head.
"This not only surprised the planter and the rest, but was satisfactory proof to him that the bay was my horse.
"Mr. Harcourt, for that was the planter's name, remarked: 'These tricks seem to demonstrate that what you claim is true, but I paid a fancy price for this animal, $500, and I do not feel like losing such a sum.'
"'Neither shall you lose it, sir,' said I. 'This very day I will write you a check for the amount, if you will give my Velox to me.'
"To this Mr. Harcourt agreed. The pair were driven back to his plantation, and that afternoon Sambo brought him to me. I handed him the check to give to his master. Going to a store near by I bought a saddle and bridle and, putting them on Velox, I mounted him and rode him back to 'Mount Pisgah.' And here he is, sound as ever," and George snapped the whip over the trotting pair so that they increased their speed a bit.
The day was bright and balmy, the steeds were willing, and they made good progress. But the drive was long and it was late dinner time when they arrived on the camp ground. They were welcomed by Ezra Thompson and others and, after resting a short time and partaking of a substantial meal for which their long ride had prepared them, they were ready for the afternoon services. These were of the old camp meeting order, and blessed were the results. An earnest preacher handled the Word of God skillfully, and it became the sword of the Spirit which cut through skepticism, indifference, and sin, and pierced the consciences of many. A blessed altar service closed the meeting.
Jasper Very ate only a light supper. Following his usual custom he went into the woods to pray, to meditate, and to get his sermon into order for the evening. When he came back those who saw him were struck with his look. It was something like that of Moses when he came down from the mount. His face seemed to shine with the light of God. Jasper's natural mein was bold, commanding, and aggressive, so that some thought him domineering and severe; but now his manner was full of humility and peace. He was like a man who had seen a vision of eternal love; his soul was filled with a deep sympathy for sinful men and a great yearning to turn them from the error of their ways. Tonight the fighter was gone, and the pleader took his place.
Before he preached the congregation sang that appealing hymn:
"Show pity, Lord; O Lord, forgive."
"Show pity, Lord; O Lord, forgive."
"Show pity, Lord; O Lord, forgive."
Viola LeMonde's confidence as a singer had increased with her recent attempts, and tonight her sweet, pure soprano voice rose clear and strong as she sang with the assembled multitude. Jasper Very heard her voice, and it seemed to him sweeter than the note of an angel, and it moved him one step higher in his grand preparation to speak his Master's word. While the eyes of all were fastened upon him he opened the Bible and read the text: "The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely."
It is impossible for any report to do justice to that sermon. An abstract of it has come down to us; but it is little more than a skeleton, lacking the flesh and blood and abounding life of the original.
Jasper began by describing the apostle John's imprisonment on the Isle of Patmos. There he was in the Spirit on the Lord's day when he heard a voice saying unto him: "Write." John took the flaming pen of inspiration and wrote those wonderful scenes found in the book of Revelation. But before writing his final "Amen" he gives one last, universal, gracious invitation to all men to come to the water of life and be saved. With marvelous unction and power Jasper spoke of the invitation coming from God's Spirit and from his Church, the bride, to all thirsty souls: "Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." At this place the preacher reached the climax of his theme. With the full power of his noble voice he brushed away all artificial distinctions among men, crying out that God is no respecter of persons, but that all men are invited to come to him for salvation. In earnest tones he besought his hearers to know that they are all included in the great invitation; the blacks as well as the whites, the poor farmer on the hills as well as the rich planter in the valley, the outcasts from society, such as moonshiners, horse thieves and gamblers, equally with the moral citizen who yet needed a personal deliverance from sin. All that is required is the will to come.
At last his emotions almost overcame him. Like his Master weeping over Jerusalem, this strong man wept before the people. Throwing into his voice much tenderness, sympathy, love, and persuasion, he called upon them to come forward, kneel in the straw, and seek a merciful Savior's pardon. His appeal was with many most effective; and when the congregation arose and started a gospel hymn, scores crowded to the altar seeking forgiveness and peace.
For an hour Jasper, Viola, and the rest who had come from "Mount Pisgah" labored with the penitents at the altar. At half past nine o'clock, long before the service closed, they started for home. They were all lifted to a high plane of spiritual experience, and for some time each was busy with his or her own thoughts and few words were spoken. The moon had risen and was throwing her mild light through the thick trees as best she could. Gradually George LeMonde and the three girls got into a more talkative and merry mood. Now and then a happy laugh floated through the forest, and was heard by the wakeful owl as he sat perched on some high branch, or with rush of wings flew through the air seeking his prey. They spoke of the camp meeting and the commoner events of every day life, occasionally asking the opinion of Jasper and Viola concerning this or that event or notion. But George on the front seat was too much occupied with guiding the horses through the uncertain light and with the chat of the fair girl at his side to pay much attention to those in the rear seats, and the two girls in the middle naturally kept their eyes and ears turned forward. This left Jasper and Viola in a measure to themselves. They spoke occasionally to each other, but their words were fewer than their thoughts.
Jasper's heart in the meeting had been aflame with love to God and his fellowman, and what better soil than that can there be for a man's love for a pure and beautiful woman to spring and grow? All the wealth of his great nature was even then being given to the woman at his side, and he felt the hour had come to make that love known. And Viola was ready to receive it as a most precious gift and in return to offer a yet richer treasure, a woman's unsullied affection.
In that carriage was about to take place the world's most wondrous mystery—two lives, which for months had been drawn together more and more strongly by a power which no man can understand, at last meeting and blending in a union which God in heaven makes and which eternity cannot sever.
Jasper did not need words to express his love nor Viola to receive it. They were more than half way home when Jasper moved his large, honest, chivalrous right hand over to Viola and took her small, beautiful hand in his. She did not resist the act, but let her little hand lie in his broad palm. That was all. Their betrothal was as silent as the meeting of God and a human soul. Words were not needed. They seemed out of place. They would have appeared almost a profanation. In fact they could not then have been spoken. The light carriage robe covered those two hands, and the laughing girls in the next seat did not suspect that just behind them an engagement without words was taking place. What joys, what sorrows, what tragedies and comedies occur so near us that we can almost touch them with our fingers, and yet we are unconscious of their existence?
So they rode along by the quiet river. Sometimes the stream was hidden by high and mighty trees and willows growing by its bank; at other times they saw the placid waters, and the moonbeams shining upon it making a pathway of silver light.
At last the horses turned into the great gateway, the carriage wheels crunched upon the graveled drive, and soon they were before Viola's home. It was very late, after midnight. George took his team to the barn, for he would not call up Mose at that time of night. Alice LeMonde and her two girl friends at once went upstairs.
Viola opened the drawing-room door, and she and Jasper entered. They stood by the piano, leaning against it. She looked up into his face with a happy smile in her deep blue eyes and a tender flush in her pink cheeks. Jasper, gazing down upon her with inexpressible feelings of reverence and love, imprinted a kiss upon her pure brow, thus sealing their unspoken troth. They walked together to the broad staircase where they parted bidding each other good-night.
CHAPTER XX.
Kidnapped.
The hour was late the next morning when Jasper Very awoke from a refreshing sleep. At first the incidents of the past night did not arrange themselves in proper order before his mind, but soon the succession of events and their meaning became clear. He arose, dressed, attended to his ablutions and devotions, and sat down to think. This was the tenor of his thoughts: "What a fortunate being I am to have gained the love of this true and noble woman. I feel myself unworthy of such affection and confidence. A new idea of God has come to me. He gives himself for those whom he loves. And in a new sense I am willing to sacrifice my all for her whom I love. Heretofore I have looked to my own interests as to food, clothing, lodging, and other things. Perhaps I have been a bit selfish. Now I shall delight also to plan for her well-being and happiness. When the marriage rite is said, how gladly shall I promise to 'love, comfort, and keep her in sickness and in health, to bestow upon her my worldly goods, and to keep her only unto myself.' Jasper, a precious treasure has been entrusted to your keeping, a treasure the most valuable on earth, and you must be careful to keep it from all harm."
At this moment his soliloquy was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Nora's announcement: "Please, sur, breakfast is waitin' fer yo' in de dinin' room."
"Thank you, Nora, I shall be down presently." And he descended the stairs without loss of time.
You ask, reader, what were the thoughts of Miss Viola when she awoke from her deep sleep? As the writer is a man he cannot tell. No man can sound the depths of a woman's heart. She only can understand her motives, her desires, her modes of thinking, her varying moods. She holds the key to the inner chambers of her nature, and no masculine hand can seize that key and unlock those apartments.
However, we believe we are able to fathom some of the ideas which passed through our heroine's mind that bright morning. We can take it for granted that she was very happy; that the future looked very promising, though she was impressed by the responsibility of becoming a minister's wife.
When Jasper Very descended the stairs and entered the dining-room he found Viola and her mother awaiting him, the rest having eaten some time before. The ladies cordially greeted their guest, and the meal was partaken of with a seasoning of pleasant conversation.
After breakfast the twain went into the drawing-room, and there the stalwart preacher took his own darling into his arms, and for the first time their lips met in a rapturous kiss. They sat side by side on the beautifully upholstered sofa, and looked the splendid couple they were.
If the night before, silence was golden, surely this morning speech was silver. Jasper said: "Viola, my dear, I am giving a new meaning to that Scripture passage: 'This is my commandment, that ye love one another.'" "And I," replied Viola, "feel like expressing as my sentiment those words in the Song of Songs: 'My beloved is mine, and I am his.'" "Well," said the parson, "we must seal that ownership with another kiss." It was readily given and received, and we are afraid several more followed to keep the first company.
Then they fell to talking about the future: how they hoped some day to establish a home of their own; how they would walk hand in hand through life bearing its burdens, and meeting the exacting duties of the ministry with mutual helpfulness.
Thus they conversed for a long time on the new and opening vistas of life. At length Viola said: "Jasper dear, let us take a walk this fine morning toward the great knob, and enjoy together the beauties of nature. It seems as though nature itself would delight to shower its blessing upon us."
Jasper was willing, and they went as before to the apple orchard, but instead of stopping there they climbed the ascent to the foot of the knob. Then they entered the woods which covered the great elevation from near its base to the top. They emerged into a zigzag foot-path, difficult to follow, and climbed up and up. Many times the strong arm of Jasper had to help the maiden at his side to surmount steep and bush-entangled places.
At last after much exertion they reached the top of the knob, where they beheld a wide-extended view. Below them lay Judge LeMonde's broad plantation and many others on the right hand and on the left. Beyond these ran the beautiful river through the landscape like a ribbon of silver, and they saw in the far distance valleys and hills and majestic knobs, making altogether a picture of surpassing loveliness.
The man and the woman were enchanted with the scene and Jasper, full of deep emotions, cried out: "Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name. He watereth the hills from his chambers; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works. He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man."
Viola exclaimed: "My father's plantation is called 'Mount Pisgah,' and this view reminds me of that other scene Moses saw on his 'Mount Pisgah.'"
They sat under one of the great forest trees crowning the brow of the knob and feasted their eyes on the near and the distant prospect. They heard the birds singing in the trees, and saw the saucy squirrels running up and down the hickory and other trees. Jasper spoke of his present engagements, saying on that afternoon he must visit a family down the river, and the next day he had an appointment to begin a two days' meeting in a distant township of the county.
Viola told of her plans. She intended tomorrow morning to have Mose drive her to a number of the families attending the mission school. She wished to become better acquainted with them, to show a friendly interest in their welfare, and to teach the boys and girls some further rudiments of knowledge, and tell them a number of interesting Bible stories.
This knowledge gave Jasper much concern, and he said: "My dear Viola, I have now even more than a pastor's regard for your safety and welfare. Are you not afraid to travel those lonely hills without any protector save Mose? While the mission school gradually is improving the moral tone of that region, you know there are some depraved and desperate persons living about there who would not hesitate to steal your horses, or your purse, or commit other crimes, if it were to their seeming advantage to do so?"
"Yes, I know that, dear Jasper, but hitherto the Lord has protected me, and I believe I can trust him to hold me safely in the hollow of his almighty hand. If I am called to suffer in his cause, I am willing. I have no fear of physical violence, and I am sure duty calls me to that settlement tomorrow."
"Well, my beloved, may heaven still safeguard you, and may you continue to be a blessing to that community which needs reformation, education and the gospel so much."
Viola spoke: "It is getting near dinner time, and we must not be late for that meal as we were for breakfast." With that they arose, and proceeded down the knob and on to the mansion.
After dinner Jasper Very bade them all a cordial good-by, and proceeded on his errand of mercy to a family who needed his ministrations.
Early the next morning Viola, seated in her phaeton with faithful Mose holding the reins over Prince and Bess, started to the mission school settlement. She had taken with her some things which would interest the children—candy for the little ones and some bright books for those older. The distance was considerable, but at last they arrived at the cabin of Mart Spink, where they were cordially received.
Viola stepped down from the carriage and, entering the house, soon had the whole family around her. Their minds seemed famished for knowledge. She first opened a paper bag and passed several pieces of candy to the younger children, Elmira, Robert and Jonathan. She offered the bag to the parents and to Susanna, and they helped themselves sparingly. She then brought out from her satchel a nicely bound copy of Aesop's Fables, and presented the book to Susanna. The girl was both surprised and pleased. Opening her wonderful eyes wide, she thanked her teacher in few words. Viola also gave the family some of the simpler school books used in the public schools and a few volumes of a religious nature. After a further half hour spent in pleasant conversation Viola left the cabin, and directed Mose to drive to the Sneath home.
She found Harrop Sneath sitting under the shade of a tree about as lazy and contented as ever. He was smoking tobacco contained in a corncob pipe. But Viola noticed a decided improvement in the cabin. It was cleaner than when she first saw it, and had a bit more of furniture in it. All the children showed the benefit they had received from attending the mission school. Jemima, the oldest daughter, revealed the greatest improvement. Her eye was brighter, her dress cleaner and better fitting, and her demeanor showed more intelligence and self-possession.
Viola distributed sweets and books to this family much as she had done to the other, and they were gladly received. She led the talk to things which would interest their minds—prospects for good crops, the sewing circle recently organized for women and girls, the picnic which the mission school expected soon to have.
She told them several thrilling Bible stories about David slaying Goliath, Daniel in the lions' den, the three Hebrew children.
It was nearing dinner time and the mother invited Viola to partake of their plain fare. She said: "You air u'st to all de good tings money can buy. We'uns cayn't gibe you much, but sich as we'uns hab you air welcome to."
Viola replied: "I am really greatly obliged to you, Mrs. Sneath, for your kind invitation, and will gladly dine with you today. It is not so much the amount or kind of food one is given but the spirit in which it is given that counts."
"Jist so," said Mrs. Sneath, "so we'uns'll all set down soon to corn pone and pork. Please ask your nigger to unhitch his hosses and put 'em in de bawn. He'll find sum hay der for 'em. De nigger shall hab sum dinner too."
Viola putting aside any punctilious feelings she had, partook of the homely meal with what grace and relish she could command, and thanking them all for their kindness, bade them good-by.
Viola visited a number of other families in the afternoon, and toward the evening of the long summer day instructed her servant to turn the horses toward home. They were not far from the cabin of the monster dwarf, Zibe Turner. A strange feeling of fear and apprehension sprang up within her. Was it caused by her nearness to the home of this wicked man, or by a premonition of danger?
They were passing through one of the densest parts of the great forest. The sun was yet some distance above the horizon, but his slanting rays could throw only a dim light through that mass of wood and foliage.
Suddenly two men sprang from behind high bushes by the roadside. They had black cloth masks over their faces. Holes were cut in the masks through which the bandits could see. One man was tall and broad. The other was short and thickset. The shorter man leaped to the horses' heads and, seizing the reins, stopped their progress. The other stepped to the side of the phaeton, and said in a voice he tried to disguise: "Lady, we'uns do not mean to harm you, but you must cum wid us."
Viola, though dreadfully frightened, straightened herself up in the carriage, and replied: "What do you men mean by stopping a carriage on the highway, and thus disturbing peaceable citizens? I call upon you to go, let go the reins of my horses, and allow my servant to drive me home."
"Dat is fur from our wish," said the desperado, "and if you won't walk away quietly wif us, we'uns will have to tote you away."
With this the highwayman (who was no other than Sam Wiles) jumped into the vehicle, and seizing the young woman around the waist, was dragging her forcibly to the ground. Viola could make no successful resistance in the grasp of this powerful man, but he met resistance where he little expected it. The slave held the buggy whip in his hand, and hastily reversing his hold on the whip, brought the butt end of it down with much force on the miscreant's head. Wiles was half stunned by the blow, but he would not release his hold on Viola, and cursed the black with dreadful oaths.
But it was the work only of a second for the terrible dwarf, Zibe Turner, to spring to the front of the carriage, and grabbing Mose in his sinuous arms, he drew him to the earth, then struck him a terrific blow on his head, and threw him to the ground. What the blow might not have done (for a negro's skull is very thick) the fall accomplished; for when he fell Mose's head struck the protruding root of a great oak tree, and the blow was of sufficient violence to stun the black man. Zibe Turner let the negro lie by the side of the road, and going to the horses led them to a trunk of a tree and, taking the hitch strap, tied it to a lower limb. The outlaws' purpose this time was not stealing horses.
In the meantime Sam Wiles carried Viola, vainly struggling, about one hundred feet up the road and turned to the right, where not far away a two-seated wagon stood, with two horses hitched to it. Wiles lifted Viola, now exhausted and half dead with fear, into the rear seat and sat down beside her. Presently the monster dwarf appeared and, freeing the horses, jumped on to the front seat. Turning the horses into the road, he drove in an opposite direction to that which Viola had been taking.
No words were spoken by any of the party and the horses pursued their way through the darkening forest. After a time they were driven by the dwarf into the enclosure before his mother's cabin. She was at the door, evidently expecting them. The devil which was in her caused her to cry out in hideous glee: "An' so you'uns cotched her did you'uns? Good. Now we'uns'll see what de Jedge'll do. Will he put gentl'men ob de hills in de jug ag'in? De debil blast 'im and all his kind." Looking at Viola, who now had braced herself for any approaching ordeal, remembering that she was Judge LeMonde's daughter, the hag said: "Now, my purty lady, we'uns'll see who'll wear fine clothes, an' eat de best tings, an' go round de kentry convartin' de people. We'uns count dat you'll get a taste of how we'uns live. Don't hurt yer digestion ner spile yet purty looks longin' ter see yer pa an' ma an' dat cussed preacher."
The monster dwarf here broke in, speaking in his deep voice: "Ma, dat's nuff now. Tell sis to git ready in a hurry, for we'uns have a long drive before us."
Sis was soon ready—the tall, raw-boned, homely young woman, a fit member of this ogre family, but with a little less of depravity in her makeup and looks. She was dressed in a long calico gown, heavy coarse shoes, and a much worn hat, whose flowers appeared worse than "the last rose of summer," after it had faded.
Viola maintained silence, and awaited developments. The plan soon unfolded itself. Sis Turner got up into the rear seat beside Viola. Zibe Turner mounted to the front seat, took the reins in his right hand, spoke to the horses, and away they went, leaving Sam Wiles looking after them. What was the character of his thoughts?
Turner drove his team along a faintly marked country road always toward higher ground. On and on they went for miles, the way in many places becoming so dark, that the only direction was the avenue made by the cutting down of the trees. Sometimes they came to such serious obstructions in the road that the driver had to get down to remove them. At last the way was so narrow they had to leave the wagon and proceed on horseback.
After climbing higher and higher they arrived at a small open place near the top of the knob. In its midst was a diminutive log cabin, consisting of only one room. Turner stopped his horses in front of the cabin, dismounted, and requested the girls to do the same. He unbarred the door, and the three entered. By means of flint, steel, tinder, and burnt rags Turner made a light. Viola observed that the cabin was of about the same order as the Sneath home she had visited that morning. A large fireplace was on one side. There was no window, and only one door. Two cheap beds were in two corners of the room. In another corner there were a number of bundles of provisions. A few cooking utensils were on the hearth, and a few dishes were on the table. The door on the inside was secured by a heavy bar which fell into a strong socket, the bar being fastened by a stout padlock.
Zibe Turner spoke: "Miss LeMonde, dis cabin is to be yer hum for a while. My sister is to be comp'ny for ye, an' also yer guard. No harm is to cum to ye, if ye do what ye air told. I'm goin' to leave now, an' sis'll tend to yer wants. Good-night to bof uv you'uns."
With this he left the cabin, and drove away.
CHAPTER XXI.
The Search.
As the time for the evening meal was approaching at Judge LeMonde's mansion, his wife said to him: "I wonder what is keeping Viola so long today. She told me before starting, she would be home by sundown, and it surely is time she were back."
The Judge responded: "Do not be alarmed. She may have been kept longer than she expected at some of the places she visited. The days are very long now, and the twilight lingers. Besides, there will be moonlight tonight and if they are delayed they can easily see their way over the big road by the light of the moon. Mose is a trustworthy fellow and we know he is a careful driver."
At this time Nora knocked at the door, announcing that supper was ready. Madam LeMonde was not fully at ease, but went with the rest to the dining-room. The repast was rather a quiet one, and when it was finished dusk had fully settled over the valley. The Judge and his wife went to the piazza and looked down the plantation private way, but could see no sign of carriage or horses. They together walked to the large gate which opened on the county road, opening the gate, and went the short distance to the river road along which the returning carriage would come. They stood and strained their eyes looking down the highway, but could discern no vehicle of any kind approaching.
For some time they stood looking and listening, and then returned to the house. Now they were anxious indeed; and so was their son George who had been to the barn on some business with one of the hostlers.
Madam LeMonde exclaimed: "What can be keeping them? Surely some accident or harm has befallen them. Viola would never stay away from home as late as this unless she had company with her. I am very nervous and disturbed. What can we do?"
George spoke up and said: "Do not be distressed, mother. If the carriage does not come in a few minutes, I will get Velox and ride along the road to meet it and to be of help, if it is needed."
"Do so, my son, for this will help to relieve me of suspense," said his mother.
They waited until it was quite dark, for the moon had not yet risen, though it would show itself presently. Then George decided to go at once. Hurrying to the barn, he saddled and bridled his noble horse and instantly went along the road, his horse trotting rapidly.
About five miles down the road George met Mose coming in the phaeton, but Viola was missing. Terribly anxious for the safety of his sister, the white man asked the slave what had happened.
Mose was still somewhat dizzy from the blow he had received from the monster dwarf and his fall on the root of the oak, but he told the story as far as he knew, and added some particulars about himself.
He said he lay for a long time unconscious by the side of the country road, but at last his senses came back to him. His head pained him very much, and a great swelling was over his right eye. In the dim light he saw the horses hitched under the tree.
He tried to rise from the ground, but found it impossible at first. After making a number of attempts, he managed to get up on his feet and went to the phaeton reeling like a drunken man. He untied the horses and almost fell into the seat. He managed, however, to keep the horses in the road and drove them as best he could till he met "Mas'r George."
George considered whether it were better for him to ride furiously after the outlaws, or to return to the plantation with Mose. He chose the latter course, and before a great while they came up the private way to the mansion.
The Judge and his wife, and indeed the whole household, were anxiously awaiting them. When the phaeton drove up and no Viola in it, Madam LeMonde became hysterical and almost fainted. She screamed: "Where is my daughter? Where is she? What has happened to her? Tell me quickly."
The Judge was compelled to quiet his wife before he could hear the story of his daughter's abduction.
The group returned into the house. Entering the sitting-room they discussed what was best to be done. The Judge requested his son George to ride as fast as possible to the county seat, arouse the sheriff and ask him to select a posse as soon as he was able, to search for the missing girl. This George proceeded to do. He rushed to the barn and mounting a fresh horse set off at all speed on his errand.
Judge LeMonde hastily wrote some notes containing a brief account of his daughter's seizure and, entrusting them to his most faithful slaves, instructed them to deliver the notes to those addressed. These were his most intimate neighbors and friends in the valley. He requested them to meet him at "Mount Pisgah" early in the morning.
As the Judge could do no more that night he suggested that they retire to their rooms, and seek rest. This they did, but no sleep came to him nor to his wife that night. Their thoughts were with the girl:
"Where is she? Have they murdered her? What could be their object in carrying her away? Was it revenge? How difficult it will be to find her. But Oh! that morning would come, so that the attempt can be made!"
Thus they beat the walls of darkness with unavailing questions, and even their prayers were mixed with natural forebodings and fears.
With the first dawn of day Nora, who also had passed a restless night, awoke the fat cook (for she in spite of sympathy for the family had slept soundly) and asked her to get coffee and toast as quickly as possible. This was soon prepared, and the Judge and his wife drank the stimulant and ate a little toast.
Presently thereafter the neighbors began to arrive. They were greatly affected by the foul deed, and vowed the direst punishment upon the outlaws in case they were captured. They offered to the family every assistance in their power. They spoke comforting words to the afflicted Judge, who showed the marks of his mental anguish and sleepless night in his haggard face. They sent their respects to Madam LeMonde, who was too prostrated to see them at this time.
When all were arrived it was decided to await the coming of the sheriff and posse when all would go to the spot where Viola was taken, and from that point scour the wilderness under the sheriff's lead.
The sun was not high in the heavens when the sheriff and a company of eight determined-looking men rode up to the mansion. No words were wasted. All were eager to depart. The leader ordered the company and planters to fall in, and away they went with swift pace toward the place they sought. Judge LeMonde and George rode with the sheriff. Mose, nearly recovered from his hurt, was in the company as guide.
They came to the place where the carriage was stopped, and Mose took time to point to the very spot where his head came in contact with the root of the oak. They followed the road along which Sam Wiles went with the struggling Viola in his arms. They turned to the right, and saw the hoof prints of the horses the marauders had hidden with the wagon in the brush.
Examining the road carefully (a road very little traveled) they saw wagon tracks which might have been those made by the wagon in which the kidnappers sat with their victim.
Suspecting that the men would go first to the cabin of Zibe Turner, they went to this house, and found the old mother at home. From her they could get no satisfaction. She denied that she had seen Viola LeMonde lately. Shaking her bony arm at the Judge and the rest, she commanded them to begone from her premises.
The searchers, leaving the enclosure, rode a short distance into the woods and there stopped. They decided to follow the flight as before by means of the horse hoof and wagon tracks. This they did, but soon the way became merely a path, and then the path ended in the unmarked woodland.
All trace of the fugitives was thus lost. The sheriff then divided his company into parties of two men each, and sent them in different directions in such a manner as to cover as much ground as possible. Before dismissing them, he told them to search diligently the ground traversed, especially the wildest and deepest parts of the hills. They were to ride their horses when the way permitted, otherwise to go on foot.
Not one of these men needed urging. They were all fired with a grim determination to find if possible the place where the beautiful captive was imprisoned. They took no account of their own personal affairs, of hunger and fatigue, of the difficulties of travel through the uncleared forests. The clothing of some became torn with briers and sharp rocks, their shoes were damaged with stones, fallen limbs, muck and mire. Their hands were pierced by many thorns, as they pushed their way through the wilderness.
The first day passed without finding any trace of the missing maiden.
Where was Jasper Very while these thrilling events were taking place? As we have intimated, he had gone to a distant part of the county to hold a two days' meeting. All unconscious of the terrible evil that had fallen upon his betrothed, he was pursuing his Master's work with his accustomed zeal and success.
Before leaving home to visit her mission school people Viola had informed her mother of the new and intimate relations existing between Jasper Very and herself. The mother was much pleased with the engagement and, woman like, could not keep the news from her husband. She told him the story. He also was pleased with the information. The night he sent word to his neighbors of the abduction he wrote a longer note to Jasper Very, acquainting him of the villainous occurrence. This message he sent to the preacher by a trustful servant, Joshua.
The servant rode through the night, but did not reach the village till the middle of the next morning. Horse and man were very much exhausted. The eight o'clock meeting was just closing and the preaching service was about to begin, when Joshua rode up to the little meeting-house. Jasper, looking through the open door, saw Joshua, whom he knew as one of Judge LeMonde's slaves.
Thinking something was wrong, Jasper hurried from the church and spoke to the messenger. Joshua gave him the note. As he read its contents, a heavy groan escaped his lips and he almost fell to the ground. With a tremendous effort at self-control, but with tears coursing down his manly cheeks, he said to Joshua: "Man, you and your horse are very tired. A livery stable is just around the corner. Put up your horse there, and the owner will tell you where you can get food and rest."
He then went into the church and said: "Friends, I have just received news which is very urgent, requiring my presence in another part of the county. I am sorry I cannot preach here this morning, but I must be excused, and I will ask the Rev. Irby Trynor kindly to take my place." With these words he hurried from the building, and going to the stable of his stopping-place, quickly put saddle and bridle on trusty Bob, and rode like a Jehu in the direction of "Mount Pisgah."
Darkness was settling on the river bottom when Jasper Very came along the road passing by Judge LeMonde's plantation. Riding to the corner he turned to the right, went up the county road to the big gate, opened it, and passed up to the piazza. The Judge and George had returned from their unsuccessful search a half hour before. The planters had gone home for the night, promising to renew the hunt next morning. The sheriff and his men were accommodated at various houses, some stopping at "Mount Pisgah."
As Jasper dismounted the Judge himself met him. For a moment the two strong men could find no words to speak. They shook hands together and looked the sorrow they felt. Then the Judge invited Jasper into the house, ordering a servant to take Bob to the barn. Jasper was most anxious to know all the particulars of the case, and the Judge told him every detail. Their tired, hungry bodies craved some refreshments which were served to them, and soon they went to their rooms to seek that rest which the strenuous efforts of the morrow required.
In the quiet of his room Jasper had a great fight with his own heart. Fierce temptations assailed him. He would have vengeance. If he found those atrocious men he would kill them, if he could. His feelings found vent in some of the imprecatory psalms. Such cattle as Wiles and Turner were not fit to live; they polluted the earth upon which they stood. If arrested, they should suffer the direst penalties of the law.
But after this paroxysm had spent itself, his feeling became calmer. Prayer, like a healing balm, came to his aid. He was able to commit even this trial to the wisdom and help of almighty God.
Thus he found repose in sleep, and in the morning arose with a clear mind, a refreshed body, and a preparation for the heavy duties of the day.
That day the search was renewed with the same vigor as yesterday, but even with the help of Very, who passed through the wilderness like a tornado, the hiding place of the desperadoes was not discovered.
The searchers returned to their abodes well nigh exhausted and discouraged. Judge LeMonde requested Jasper Very to pass the night at "Mount Pisgah," and this the preacher did.
After supper they were sitting on the piazza going over the incidents of the day, and planning what course they would best take on the morrow, when one of them, looking in the direction of the big gate, saw a light shining apparently on one of its posts. He called the attention of the rest to it. They wondered what it could mean. It could not be a firefly. It was not the light of a lantern in the hands of some one walking; the light was too steady. The Judge said to George: "My son, run down the lane, and see what that light means." George needed no urging, but at once went with swift pace to the gate. There he beheld a lighted candle stuck on the top of the right post of the gate. Below the candle was a piece of paper tied with a string, and the string made fast to the post.
George brought both candle and paper to the group on the piazza. The Judge took the paper into the sitting room. On the paper was some writing done with a sprawling hand. He had some difficulty in deciphering it, but at last made out its contents. This is how it read: