CHAPTER XXVIIIN THE TIGER'S MOUTHWhen I awoke the sun was high in the heavens and the air filled with the songs of birds and the sweet fragrance of the woods. Lying still and resting, in no mood to move, I looked out on the world from a great fissure in the side of the tree where I had made my bed. Far off in the ambient air, and immovable, an eagle pinioned, as if pondering on the great tree's overthrow. Near by and alert, a bluejay uttered its discordant cries, and on a projecting limb, almost within my hand, a squirrel sat upright, rubbing his nose and looking down in wonder on the fallen monarch. Thus outstretched, and with no thought of stirring, a noise reached me from the opening of the tree, and sitting up, I saw my bundle tossed this way and that by a cub no bigger than a three-months' puppy. This at first in play, but by and by coming on the odor of the food, the youngster's mood changed, and it tore at the package as if ravenous with hunger. Seeing this, I sprang out, and grasping the brute by the neck, threw it to one side. In no way hurt, it yet uttered a doleful cry, as these animals will. Not regarding its complainings in any way, I busied myself putting my bundle to rights, until presently, the cries continuing, they were answered by a fierce growl from the opening of the glade. Looking in the direction from whence it came, I saw a huge bear coming toward me, half uprisen, her teeth showing white and cruel against the deep color of her blood-red mouth. Transfixed, I fell to trembling, for of escape I could see no way, save that from which the brute came on, dense undergrowth barring the road and making flight impossible, even if I could have hoped to outstrip the fierce creature. While thus bewildered, not knowing what to do, the hollow of the tree where I had passed the night caught my eye, and with the sight hope revived in my heart. For there at least the brute might not dare to follow. Thinking thus, I sprang into the opening, but the enraged animal, after smelling about as if fearing a trap, being assured, followed resolutely on. Seeing this, I hurried forward, at first upright, and then stooping, and finally on my hands and knees. As the tree contracted and my progress was lessened, I could feel the breath of the savage animal stir my hair, while her angry growls filled my ears as if she were already upon me. Glancing back, I saw her some way off, but coming on slowly and as if in fear of being caught in the tree. At this I sought to crowd myself forward where she could not come, but presently the opening becoming contracted, so that I could make no further headway, I knew not what to do. Now, indeed, hope died within me, and no longer able to look back or scarce move my body, I lay still, listening to the deep breathing of the animal as it came steadily toward me. At last in an agony of fear I put forth all my strength anew, and to my great joy the walls of the tree, which had before been hard and unyielding, now crumbled and fell apart under the pressure of my outstretched hands. While thus striving to make some headway, light broke in on my prison, and looking forward, I was gladdened by the sight of an opening a few feet away, caused by the breaking of the tree in its fall.Cheered by what I saw, I struggled forward with new courage, making a way, sometimes with my hands, but more often with my head and face. In this manner I at last reached the opening; but now, when safety seemed assured, my strength left me, and I lay as one dead, unable to move or cry aloud. Regaining some mastery over myself after a time, I dragged my body through the opening, my garments torn and my face and hands dripping with blood. This I did not much regard, and revived by the cool air and the thought that I was free, my strength came back, and from lying unable to stir I had now no fear at all. Stooping down, I looked into the opening, and fortunate it was, for the fierce brute, discovering my escape, was already backing from the tree. Frightened anew at this, I stuck my face into the opening, and cried out in rage, as if daring the creature to come on. At this she stopped, and after a moment, answering my challenge with an angry growl, started anew in my direction. Coming a little way, she stopped again, and despite my cries, turned back. At this, observing her cub, and scarce knowing what I did, I ran and caught it in my arms, and returning, thrust it into the narrow opening, wrenching its limbs to make it cry with pain. No sooner had I done this than the mother turned back, growling in fierce anger and tearing at the sides of the tree with her teeth and claws in vain effort to reach her offspring. Seeing this, I fell to beating the poor thing with all my strength, so as to make it cry the louder. When, however, some time had passed and the bear could make no further headway, and made as if she would turn back, I thrust the cub far into the opening, and giving it a cruel stroke, left it there.Hastening to the spot where my bundle lay, I snatched it up, and turning, fled through the opening of the glade into the forest beyond. Overcome with fear, and not regarding the direction I took, I ran on, looking back with each step to see if I were followed. At last, worn out with fatigue and hunger, I could go no farther, and throwing myself on the ground, burst into a paroxysm of tears. Now indeed was I forlorn. Lost in the forest and beset by wild beasts, what danger might I not fear! Thus I lay, until at last, rested and reassured, I rose to my feet. Above my head as I looked up the spreading trees, serene and calm, bent over me with steadfast gaze, and as if in pity and tender sympathy. Listening, I heard in their soft murmurings, melodies I knew, sweet sounds that might be the voices of angels watching over the lost of earth or guarding their departing souls to the portals of Heaven above. Comforted, I went forward, and in a little while, coming to a meandering stream, took off my torn clothes, and casting them aside, cleansed myself in its limpid waters. Putting on new garments, I looked about for some place to eat my morning meal, and this I saw a little way off, beside a trickling spring, rimmed about with flowers and verdant mosses. On its edge, as I approached, a thrush refreshed himself in its cool depths, and waiting till he was gone, I took out my store of food, and sitting down beside the sparkling water, ate my fill. Then burying my face in its depths, I arose, and put the little food I had remaining in my pocket, and refreshed and hopeful, started on my way.Now the trees took on a brighter look, and swaying and curtesying this way and that as I went forward, seemed as if pointing the direction I should go. Striving to follow some given course, noon passed, and so the afternoon, without sign of man or any clew to guide me. At last, as night approached, my strength failed me; and now the birds, as if in sympathy with my mood, no longer fluttered their gay plumage, but flew back and forth in the gathering twilight, swiftly and silently hastening to their hiding-place for the night. In the open before me, however, and as if to cheer my solitude, a thrasher flew forward, and at intervals, running on, looked back, saying as in words: "Come on; this is your road." At last, its mission done or tiring with the effort, it flew away, and I saw it no more. Watching its flight, the treetops still reflected back the hue of the departing sun, and midway in their height some trace of yellow was yet to be seen, but near the ground were already black as night with the fast-gathering shadows. At this moment, when hope was dead within me, I came, and without thought, upon a beaten road, but whether that which I had left the night before or not I did not know nor care. Elated, my strength returned, and sitting down I took what food I had and ate it, thankful for so much, and without thought of the morrow. Strengthened, I started afresh, but in what direction I could not tell. Thus I went on till the moon arose, but without sight of man or house. Nor was there sound of any kind, save the sighing of the forest, all Nature sleeping as if in recompense for the debauch of the previous night. Going forward, cheerful of heart, I was not much surprised when a light flashed out before me, and then another and another. Pushing on, I came after a while upon a little village of huts scattered along the highway, some near the road and others farther off. Peering through the window of the first I came to, in hopeful expectancy of food and lodging, a comely woman, large, and fine of face, sat on a bench, her children gathered about her kneeling at their evening prayers. Of room, however, there was scarce enough to swing a cat, and this so crowded as not to afford place for another; and so, with a longing look at the little group, I went on to the house beyond. Here there were only three children, as I could plainly see, but as if the saving had been known in advance, the place was made to fit, and so there was no room for more. The next house, dark and forbidding, gave back no response to my knocking, and so I went on to the fourth, a little hut standing close beside the road. Here there was sickness, and though they bade me stay, I could not find it in my heart to thus obtrude myself upon their gentle hospitality. At the hut beyond they would have welcomed me, but a guest already filled the space, and so they could offer me no place where I could lie.In this way I went on, now somewhat depressed, till I reached the extremity of the little village, and here I came upon a building, larger than the others, and standing back from the road, as if courting greater privacy. A dull light showed in its single window, but high up, so that I could not scan the interior as I had the others. Hearing voices, I knocked, confident of a welcome, so imposing was the structure. For a moment silence followed my summons, and then a voice bade me enter. Lifting the latch, I opened the door and went in; but entering, no one spoke nor said aught of welcome as I stood looking about me. Of the room, it was the size of the building, and without furniture of any kind, save a bench that ran beside the wall. On this I presently made out two men, for of light there was none save from a lantern that stood on the floor, clouded with dirt and smoke. This I thought strange; but more surprising still, a man, half-sitting, half-reclining, in the farther corner of the room, his legs securely fastened to a huge ring fixed in the floor. Startled, I turned about and would have fled, but one of the men, who had been seated, springing between me and the door, cried out:"Gilbert Holmes! by all the gods of Greece and Rome!"Hearing him, I needed nothing more to tell me it was Moth; and alas! he barred the way—and of exit there was no other. Seeing this, I stood still, looking into his face, my own aflame with anger and shame."Thank you, my lad, for saving me further trouble," he went on, with sarcastic glee. "I have had many setbacks lately, but things at last seem to be coming my way. A robber and a runaway in twenty-four hours will do pretty well for an amateur. One I capture, and the other comes to me of his own accord. Yes, I am certainly in luck"; and Moth chuckled, as if fortune was at last favoring him beyond all other men. "Come, my lad," he continued, after a moment's pause, seeing I did not speak; "do not stand there dumb, but tell me what good fortune brings you into my hands.""It's not that I want to see you," I answered, at a loss whether to answer him or no."Of course not, my dear. You have not shown any liking for my company, I am sorry to say, though I mean you no harm. But I hope it will be different hereafter," he answered, leering at me."It will not, sir! You have no right to pursue me, and I will never go with you; I'll die first.""Oh, yes, you will! And I will not let you get away again, either," he answered, confidently."You can't fasten me so I'll not escape. I'd kill you if I couldn't get away without," I answered, my anger passing all bounds."You would, would you, you little devil! But what I want is for the best, and go back with me you shall," he answered, determinedly, and as if that ended the matter."I say I'll not—never! You think me a child, and I was, but you have made me something more. Don't come near me! I'll never let you take me alive!" I screamed, as he took a step in my direction, my anger growing to white heat."Tut, tut, child! Do not fly into such a passion. Listen to reason. I am not going to harm you," he replied, soothingly."What is all this about, anyway?" the man who had been seated beside Moth here interposed, coming forward and holding the lantern aloft so as to see me the better. "Good God! lad, what is the matter with your face?" he went on. "You look as if you had been run over by a harrow.""It was scratched in the woods," I replied, quieting down."Why, it is seamed and slashed like a piece of raw meat. No, no, the brush never did that, lad!" he went on, examining it more carefully."It's nothing, sir, and will be all right in the morning," I answered."Maybe, but for fear I'll rub some salve on it to help it along," he answered; and going to a small cupboard, brought back a cup of grease, which he smeared over my face. "There, that will do for to-night, and in the morning I will dress it again.""You are foolish to waste grease or sympathy on him, jailer," Moth interposed. "That is the lad we have been looking for all day, and a precious sly one he is, too.""Well, he does not look it," the jailer answered, "but frank about the eyes as my own boy, though his face is not much to speak of in its present shape.""I'm as honest, sir, as I can be, and this man has no business to say I'm not, nor claim any rights over me," I answered, appealingly."Do not let him fool you, jailer. Those brown eyes of his have more deviltry in them than there is in that highwayman's whole body," Moth answered, looking across at the man in the corner, who had straightened up and now sat silently regarding us."I'm not bad," I cried, laying hold of the jailer's hand, "and I haven't harmed any one, nor taken what didn't belong to me.""I am sure of it," he answered, kindly."I told you he would fool you, for in cunning and evasion he is Satan's own imp," Moth answered, anger showing in his voice."Don't believe him," I answered. "He has no right to pursue me as he does. He's not my guardian.""Who is your guardian, and where is he?" the jailer asked, as if that would settle it."Uncle Job Throckmorton, and he lives in Appletop. He left me at Rock Island till he could come back, and yesterday this man planned to kidnap me, and that's why I ran away," I answered, determined to tell my story."I know Mr. Throckmorton, and he is an upright, honest gentleman, if there is one in the state," the jailer replied."Then don't let this man pursue me longer," I answered, "for he has no right.""I have you already," Moth answered, "and so there is no need to pursue you farther. You are under age and an estray, for Throckmorton's not your guardian, and can be reclaimed by the owner wherever found. Is not that so, jailer?""Maybe; but I think you ought to have a warrant to take him," he added, brightening up at the thought."Nonsense! It is not necessary. You are a justice, and it is your business to hold him pending investigation.""Why should I, if you have nothing to prove your right to him?""I have, and you know it," Moth answered, confidently."I do not," the jailer replied, doggedly."Well, I tell you so now, and that I shall hold you responsible as an officer of the law for his safety," Moth answered, with savage determination."Well, I say I'll not turn a hand to help you. The statutes of Illinois are very liberal about boys being at large, and I am not going to interfere with this one," the jailer answered."You will not dare to refuse to perform the duties of your office," Moth answered, desperately."It is not my duty to detain him," the jailer answered."I'll never go with him," I spoke up, encouraged by the jailer's manner and speech. "He has no more claim on me than that robber.""Yes, I have; and you will go with me, just as the robber did," Moth replied. "I will make you go.""You can't; and if you were not an old man I'd wallop the life out of you right here and now," I cried, my anger getting the better of me again.To this Moth made no response, but stood still, eying me for a while in silence; then turning to the jailer, he said:"To-morrow I will bring an officer to take this lad, my client's ward according to the judge's ruling, and you dare not let him go meanwhile. He is a runaway, and I call on you to hold him.""If you want to leave him here, perhaps you can, provided you pay his board and lodging, but I will not assume any responsibility—not for a minute," the jailer answered, cowed by Moth's manner and confident air."Yes, you will, and you will secure him in the same way you have the highwayman," Moth answered, pointing to the robber."I'll see you damned first. He is not a criminal, but a child, and I will not tie him up, nor will you," the jailer answered."You are not fit to fill the office you do; but I must be satisfied, I suppose. Anyway, he can't escape," Moth answered, gazing about him as if to judge of the strength of the room."No," the jailer replied, in a voice that plainly said he wished I could; "and now, sir, if you have no one else to lock up and no more orders to give, I will shut up shop and go home."Moth returning no answer to this, the jailer crossed to where the robber sat and pinioned his arms, after which he attached the rope to a ring in the wall, but not so closely that the prisoner could not lie down. Then taking his lantern, he motioned Moth to go ahead, following him to the door. There turning around, he pointed to a bunk in the corner, saying:"You will not find it hard, my lad"; but as if this was not enough, he turned back, and taking my hand, bade me not to fear, adding that he would see that my uncle got word of what had happened on the succeeding day.CHAPTER XXVIIIGILBERT AND THE HIGHWAYMAN JOIN FORCESWhen they were gone the moon served in some measure to light the room, and taking advantage of it, I examined the window and door, to see if there was not some way of escape. In vain, however; and discouraged I sat down on the empty bench, thinking how much better off I had been the night before, for then at least I was free. While thus overcome by my sad thoughts, the robber spoke up, and with such cheerfulness and strength of voice that I turned to him in astonishment."So the little spook of a lawyer has trapped you, too, has he? But why so sad about it?"At this I only stared, but after a while, remembering poor Fox and Mr. Lincoln's grand way, I answered:"Yes, I'm trapped, and without reason.""That is always the way. Reason plays hide and seek with us, but might is always on hand and wide awake. Moth puts me in jail because I sought to harm him. He too ought to be here, though, for seeking to harm you; but he is free and you are in jail, and that is the way it goes. There is always some bit of injustice, I have noticed, in everything that is done," the robber went on, but more as if talking to himself than to me."What have you done that he's after you?" I asked, interested in him because of his cheerful way and kind speech."Me! I tried to rob him.""To rob him!" I exclaimed, wondering that any one should try to rob Moth."Yes, in the woods, as he was pursuing you. For you are the lad, I expect, that went by as I lay in wait.""Yes," I answered, not knowing whether I was or no."After you had passed he came along, his horse all afoam, and I followed on. When he stopped at the place where you left the road, I called to him to throw up his hands, but instead he drew a pistol and fired at me point-blank.""The rascal!" I interrupted; for everything that Moth did appeared hateful to me."Yes, and I, not to be outdone, fired back, but over his head, thinking to frighten him; and truly enough, for he turned and fled. My horse was the better of the two, but he the lighter, so for a long time there was no advantage. At last, my animal having the best wind, I overhauled him, and releasing a pistol I raised it and fired, intending, as before, to frighten him into giving up his purse, for I do not think I could kill a man if I were starving.""Well?""Well, just as I fired, my horse, left to himself, stumbled, and falling on his face, threw me over his head into the road.""Then what happened?" I asked, sympathizing with him in his misfortune."The fall stunned me, and before I could so much as stir the little scamp had disarmed me, and when I looked up, bruised and hurt, he held a pistol within an inch of my nose.""That was too bad," I answered, sorry that Moth should have been the victor."When I had recovered a little, he told me to get up, and keeping me under the muzzle of a pistol, marched me forward. After a while, coming across a farmer, they bound me with ropes and straps, and in that shape brought me here.""What will he do with you now?" I asked, forgetting my own sorrows in his."Take me to the county jail. They would have done it to-day, only the jailer and he were off in search of you. Oh, if I had my hands and legs free, I would show him a trick worth two of his!" the robber exclaimed, surveying his limbs with a sigh."What would you do?" I asked."Leave here," he replied, "within an hour; and we would go together, and so double his rage.""To do this all you want is your hands and feet?" I asked, doubtingly."That is all, and I wouldn't go through the door if it were open."I could set him free, and why not, I asked myself, the sweat starting out all over me at the thought. What wrong would there be in it, for it was as the robber said—Moth had a right to put him there, but no right to treat me the same way, and in breaking the law he was no better than the highwayman. Reasoning thus, I determined to do what the robber said, and so answered:"I'll cut the ropes, if that's all you want.""I shall be much obliged if you will, but I'll not ask you to do it," he answered."Why not?""Oh, perhaps because I am foolish.""How will you get out if you are free, as you say?" I asked, not seeing any way."Oh, easy enough," he answered. "I have been planning it all day as I lay here on my back. I would use the bench as a ram to displace the logs overhead, for they are short and not half fastened. Once in the loft, it would be easy to remove the shingles, and being on the roof, the ground is not ten feet away.""That seems easy," I answered."It is; for the jail is a poor affair, and only intended for small offenders; and if prisoners have not escaped, it is because they were bound, as I am, or did not think it worth while to try."What he said was true; and now resolved in my mind, and elated at the prospect of getting even with Moth, I went to the cupboard, and finding a knife, as I had thought, took it and cut the cords that bound the robber's arms and legs."There, you are free!" I cried, pleased at what I had done."Thank you, my lad; and now we will not lose any time, for we ought to be far away by sunrise," he answered. But when he got to his feet he could scarce stand. "It is nothing," he went on, noticing my surprise, "only I have to get the blood into my legs and arms again before I can do anything, for they are as stiff as ramrods." This did not take long, and in a few seconds he was busy with his preparations for our escape. "See!" he exclaimed, straightening up, "I can touch the ceiling with my hands. Now help me with the bench, for two are better than one. There, that will do. Now send the end of it into that log overhead, as if it were Moth's backbone. Good! we moved it a little. Now again. See! it is giving way." This was true, and at the third stroke it flew out of place, leaving an opening a foot wide. "That is fine, and one more will be enough. Now! right into the small of his back again," and with the words we gave the next log a stroke, lifting it clear from its place, as we had the first."That hole is big enough to drive a sleigh through," he exclaimed; and placing the bench on the floor, stood on it, and taking hold of the edge of the opening, swung himself into the loft. "Now, my lad, give me your hand," and doing as he said, I found myself in a moment seated beside him. "We are getting on finely, and the rest will be easy. There! stay where you are, my son, and in a minute I will give you a glimpse of the shining stars." Saying which, he took one of the logs we had displaced, and with it drove a hole through the roof as big as a barrel. At this, and greatly to our surprise, the watchdog in the adjoining yard, aroused by the noise, set up a furious barking, running up to the jail door, where it kept up its angry outcry."Quick, my lad! We must go back. It is the jailer's dog, and the old man will be sure to come to see what is the matter"; and without wasting time, the robber lowered himself through the opening to the floor below. "Now let yourself down, and I'll catch you," he called. Doing as he said, I took hold of the cross-beam and let my body swing through the opening, and he taking me in his arms, sat me down safely on the floor."Quick! into your bunk, and I'll do the same as soon as I put this bench back." And not a moment too soon, for scarce had he thrown himself on his pallet when the jailer opened the door, and pushing his lantern into the room, peered about."Hello there! how do you find yourselves? Comfortable-like?" he asked, when he had succeeded in making us out by the dim light."Yes, we are all right. Why, what is the matter? is it time to get up, or has Moth sent you to inquire after our health?" my companion answered, yawning, but with some sarcasm in his voice."Never mind about Moth. I heard the dog barking, and thought you might be wanting something, but if not, I'll go back to bed," he answered, as if excusing himself."No, we are not in need of anything, thank you. Good night, and pleasant dreams," my companion called out."Good night," the jailer answered; and closing and fastening the door, went away.When he was gone we lay for some time without speaking, until at last the robber, springing up, called out:"Hello! young man, are you asleep?""No; how could I be?" I answered, starting to my feet."I thought you looked a little tired when you came in to-night, that is all. Well, now for another try," and with that he placed the bench beneath the opening, and standing on it as before, climbed into the loft, lifting me after him."Now for the roof; and as the hole is big enough to push a washtub through, there is no occasion for making any more noise. Let me help you," and with the words he lifted me through the opening, climbing up himself a moment later.Descending to the eaves without loss of time, he took my hands and lowered me the length of his arm, when, letting go his hold, I dropped to the ground. Inquiring if I was all right, he did not wait, but following, alighted without harm. At this moment, when we thought ourselves free, the dog again set up a dreadful barking, running out into the moonlight within a few feet of where we lay prostrate in the weeds."We're lost," I whispered, seeing no way of returning to the room we had left; but placing his hand over my mouth the robber bade me keep my peace. A moment later the jailer came to the door of his hut, but after looking about for a while and yawning, called to the dog, and turning about, reëntered his house. For a long time we lay motionless, afraid to move, until everything being quiet again, we made our way on our hands and knees to the forest, some way off. Here, regaining our feet, we hurried on for a mile or more without speaking, until at last coming to an opening in the trees, we stopped in the bright moonlight and looked into each other's faces."Fox," I exclaimed, seeing him now clearly for the first time."Fox! how do you know that?" he asked, surprised, starting back."I know, for I was with Mr. Lincoln when you sought to rob the stage.""Good Lord! what are you saying?" he exclaimed, with a scared look."Yes, and I heard you promise him you'd change your ways," I answered, angrily, thinking of Mr. Lincoln and the sorrow he would feel at Fox's want of good faith a second time."Oh, I remember you well enough now; and, my God, I meant what I said, too!""Then why didn't you carry out your promise?" I asked."It was my damned luck not to, that is all. For when you were gone from the tavern where I stayed, the old man I robbed of the watch had me arrested; but while on my way to jail I escaped, and as good fortune would have it this time, I ran across the very thief who got me into trouble at first. Recognizing him, and being ready, when he sought to rob me I overcame him, and so made him dismount, and taking his pistols and horse, rode off. That is how it happened that I did not await Mr. Lincoln's return and that I am on the road again.""What have you been doing?" I asked, pleased at what he said."Not much in my line," he answered, sadly, waving his hand; "mostly begging a night's lodging or a meal here and there, till I ran across Moth.""You will never reform, I'm afraid," I answered, sorrowing, he was so pleasant of face and voice."Perhaps not; but I will make no more promises, anyway. And now, just as I once owed my freedom to Mr. Lincoln, so I owe it to you. It is more than life to me, too, for if a man is once condemned, that settles him for all time.""I only helped myself in helping you, and so you owe me nothing," I answered, true enough."Yes, I do. One never asks a neighbor why he does a good act. I could not have escaped except for you, and I owe you a debt I can never pay.""No, for I couldn't have got off without you, and so we're quits. It's good to be free again, though," I exclaimed, drawing in a long breath of the sweet air."Yes," he answered, brightening up; "and on such a night, too! How beautiful everything is—the moon, the sleeping trees, the restful shadows, the soft stir of the leaves!" and he sighed as a better man might have done in his place."I hope we'll neither of us ever be in such a fix again," I answered, my happiness at our escape dampened by compassion for my companion and his dangerous way of life."No need in your case, surely; but for me," he went on, as if reading my thoughts, "who can tell? My sins will follow me on horseback, let me do what I may. There will be no dodging them, either. It is the first misstep that guides your footsteps ever afterward, my son; but the roads seem so much alike at the start that you can hardly tell one from the other. Both are bordered with flowers, and the sun shines as warm on one as the other; and yet the difference and the quick change if we go wrong! Then the trees lose their green and the flowers fade, and the sun goes out as if it were night. Look to your footsteps, my friend, for once you stray off the beaten path, the lash of justice will scourge you ever afterward. Such is the criminal, and such am I, and there is never but one ending. Who that starts wrong, though, ever gives the ending or its quick coming a thought? This is my sermon to you, my son, and it is real preaching, for that was the calling I meant to follow for man's good and my own salvation when I started out in life. What a mess I have made of it, though, as others have done and will to the end. Not to repent, either, nor strive to, for on this road there is no turning back. The silliness of it all, and the futility! But do not regard what I say, lad. The lost ever thus grieve and go on preaching and reforming and falling anew. So there you are, and here am I; and which way do you go now?" he added, changing in a whimsical way, but as if pleased with his sermon."I'm going to Appletop," I answered, sorrowing over what he said, knowing he was making himself out bad when he was only unfortunate and foolish; "but I don't know where I am nor which way to go.""I will put you on the road, and it is but a step," he answered; and taking my hand we plunged into the forest again. Walking on without speaking for half an hour, we came at last to a road that stretched away, white and glistening, in the bright moonlight."Here is your way, my son, and a plain one, too. Go to the right for a mile or thereabouts, where a road leads to the left. Follow it and it will take you zigzagging through the country to Appletop. You can't miss the way, and nothing will harm you; or if you should run across robbers, and maybe you will, say nothing, but go on, for they will not harm a lad like you.""Where are you going?" I asked, reluctant to leave him."Why, what does that matter?" he answered, putting me off; but thinking better of it, added: "I am going to find my horse, the one I took from my friend the robber. He does not know any one but me now, nor I any one but him, and I am not going to leave him here.""Where is he?" I asked."In the village we have just left; but the night is like day, and I shall have no trouble in finding him, and perhaps Moth's, too, who knows!" he added, his eyes lighting up as a boy's might when about to play a trick on a playmate."Oh, don't touch Moth's horse," I answered, filled with fear, so clever were his ways. "I wish you'd go with me, and not try to get your horse, and maybe get caught again."Never fear!" he answered, lightly. "Good by, and don't forget me, for I shall always be your friend, though not one you will care to own.""I'm sure I shall; but don't take Moth's horse.""Well, we will see. Good by."Clasping his outstretched hand, I was loath to let it go, for he did not seem to me to be bad at all. Surely, I thought, there ought to be some way to save such a man, it not being his nature to do wrong, but a habit likely to grow upon him. Thus do the sympathies of the young ever go out to the wrong-doer before the world has taught them to classify men and treat all alike who go astray, without regard to their nature or surroundings; and thus mine went out to Fox that night as we parted in the white road, with the solemn moon looking down on our leave-taking.CHAPTER XXIXTHE TRAGEDY OF MURDERER'S HOLLOWGoing the way Fox pointed out, I found the road as he had said; but so overwrought were my nerves by the events of the night that if by chance a shadow outlined the fanciful figure of a man across my path, I stood still, trembling and in doubt, until its harmless nature was disclosed. While thus peering ahead and striving to make out the objects in my path, a rabbit ran into the road and stopped, as if disputing my right to pass. This, strangely enough, disturbed me not a little, as if somehow I were discovered. While I stood still, hesitating whether to go on or turn back, so little control had I over myself, the plaintive notes of a whip-poor-will came to me from out the deep forest, as if in comfort of my loneliness. Clear and sweet, it warmed and cheered my heart like the greeting of a friend. For who that has been brought up in the country ever heard the notes of this songster of the night without such feeling or remembrance of it ever afterward? To all such who traverse the woods, or who are in trouble, it is as if some good spirit were awakening the echoes of the place to soothe their thoughts and calm their fears. Coming to me now, out of the slumbering trees, I was enlivened and cheered so that I went on as if in the company of friends. Thus quickly do those who are in trouble accept the semblance of what they wish for for the thing itself.Going on as directed, I came at last to the summit of a bluff, from which I looked down into a valley filled with moonlight and sylvan shadows. The road descending the elevation, as I could see, there turned and followed the edge of the hill to the opposite side of the valley, where it reascended the height and was lost to view. Looking to know the reason of this strange detour, I saw it was caused by a shallow river, which following along the edge of the valley, crowded the road from its direct course.Reaching the foot of the descent, the stream had scarce more water in its bed than the Little Sandy at its best; and wearied by my walk, I determined to cross the valley and so shorten the distance I would otherwise have to go. Looking to determine the course I should take, the plain lay spread before me, and midway in its breadth a grove of walnut trees lifted their graceful foliage to the sky, standing out black and clear against the pale grasses of the sleeping valley. Cheered by the sight, for there is no tree more attractive to the eye, its rich fruit bringing it nearer to us in sympathy of life, I went forward in high spirits, stopping as I crossed the little river to drink my fill and bathe my face in its refreshing waters.Coming presently to the grove of trees, I plunged beneath their depths, to emerge a moment after in a cleared space, on the edge of which a log hut, charred by fire, stood in lonely seclusion. About it, and as if in mockery, rank weeds grew where once a garden had been planted. Wondering why such a spot should have been selected for a home, I went forward, and turning the angle of the ruin, came without thought upon a towering gibbet, from which ropes, frayed with the wind, dangled in the midnight air. Beneath these, and as if to make the story plainer, rude graves lifted their rounded forms in the bright moonlight. Recoiling at the sight, I had nearly fallen; but with my discovery, and as if the spirits of the dead were returned to earth, voices reached me, and seemingly from the shadow of the gallows and its dangling ropes. Questioning if I heard aright and hesitating whether to go forward or turn and fly, the voices came a second time, and now more plainly than before. In doubt of their friendliness, I threw myself down where I stood, and in that way was hidden by the weeds and the shadow of the crumbling ruin. Thus concealed, I was safe, unless, indeed, the course of the speakers crossed the spot where I lay hidden; but coming presently full on the gibbet, they stopped, one of them crying out in a voice of terror:"In the name of all the spirits of hell, what's them?""What's what?" the other answered, softly, as if seeing nothing out of the way."Them graves an' danglin' ropes?""Why, what about them?""Are they real, or is't the phantoms comin' on agin?"At this I recognized Blott's voice, now no longer whimsical, but constrained and full of fear. Greatly relieved, I rose to call his name, but doing so, discovered his companion to be the gambler Burke, who had robbed Mr. Singleton and afterward sought to murder Mr. Davis. Seeing him, I dropped down again, trembling and full of fear, for what could Blott be doing here, and in such company! Surely nothing good! And with the thought I hid myself more securely in the shadow of the abandoned hut."What is the matter, Blott?" the other replied, as if surprised. "Has liquor got the better of you again, or what is it that frightens you?""Frightens me! I'm not frightened; but why the devil have you brought me to this spot, of all others?""Was there ever spot more beautiful? Why, it is a bower fit for lovers," Burke replied, softly."Fit for the devil an' his bride, mebbe, but not for honest men. Why, the place's damned, Burke.""Damned, Blott! Why damned? There is not a spot on earth more peaceful. Doves coo in the trees yonder, and birds nest there; but I see your old trouble is coming on again," Burke replied, more softly than at first, if that were possible."Curse you, Burke, an' your soft speech! My trouble ain't comin' on, but this place's enough to give a man the jimjams. It's haunted an' I'd rather visit the devil in his den than come here.""You talk wildly, Blott. It is safe, and what more does one want? There is the gallows rotting away, and under it five good men as ever risked their lives for money; but harmless, Blott, harmless. They will never cast a shadow more, and the traveler may go his way for all the harm they can do him. Then why cry out, Blott?" Burke queried, in his purring voice."What these men come to you an' I'll come to, an' I don't care to be reminded of it. So let's leave the spot.""What silly talk, Blott! what silly talk! Here no one comes, and here we are free from prying eyes. Fools think the hut is haunted, and that is why I have chosen it for a hiding-place. There is no spot on earth so safe, Blott.""There's other places secure enough for me, an' I'd rather stand in the open than hide here and be safe," Blott answered, in anger."Will you never stop, Blott, will you never stop? I shall lose my temper, I am afraid, and it is always bad for those about me when I do," Burke answered, his voice, if possible, more subdued than before. "You can't put off the day you will hang by shutting your eyes, and what is there to fear from the graves of dead men or a rotting gibbet? You put me out, Blott.""I don't care whether I put you out or not. I'm no boy," Blott answered, impatiently."Surely not! surely not! But we must have a hiding-place, and what one so safe as this, which every man shuns?""I'm not afeerd, but I don't like the company," Blott answered gloomily."These men will never betray us. Do they cry out that it was I who fired the shot for which they were hung? Not a bit of it. Give me dead men when there is anything to hide.""You're the devil's own, Burke.""Perhaps, Blott, perhaps; but what has the devil done to you or me that we should be afraid of him?""Why've we come here, anyway, I'd like to know?" Blott asked. "Our man'll not cross this cursed valley, an' while we're foolin' away our time he'll pass, an' so we'll lose him.""There you go again, Blott! I told you he was not to start till one o'clock? So we have time and to spare," Burke answered, in his low, purring way."How do you know he'll not start till one? Or how do you know he's comin' at all, for that matter?" Blott replied."How did I know Hogge was coming this way that rainy night, or how do I know other things that are going on in the world that interest me?" Burke answered."Well, how do you?""Because I have a man on the outside whose interest it is to tell me. You don't suppose I trust everything to chance, do you?" Burke answered."You devil! Who's the man?""Well, I like that, Blott, I like that; and you an old constable, too! Why don't you ask me to give myself up; to put a halter around my neck?""If we're to be pards, Burke, you must trust me, for I'll know who's pullin' the strings or I won't go on.""We are not going to be partners, Blott; or only in this. Why should we?""Then why have you brought me here to help you?""Because the man is said to be ugly to handle, and I might fail alone.""Well, what'm I to git out of it if we're not pards?" Blott asked."We are partners in this, and you are to get one-third if you do as I tell you," Burke answered."What'm I to do?""Nothing of any account. You are to stand beside the road and fire when I do, and if one shot doesn't kill him, you are to keep on firing till he is dead. Is that hard, Blott? It is just play.""You won't kill him, though, if he throws up his hands an' we git what we want?""Yes; he is to die whether he throws up his hands or not. That is the understanding," Burke answered."Whose understandin'?""My understanding with my partner, and in this he is to have his way; and why not?" Burke answered, in his soft voice."Great God! what does he want him killed for?""I don't know; but what does it matter? That is always the best way, for it leaves one enemy the less.""Yes, and I hang for't, like these dead men, while you go free, you devil! No, I'll have nothin' to do with the murder. I didn't come here to kill a man 'cause somebody I don't know wants it," Blott answered, in a determined way."Don't talk foolishly, Blott; don't!" Burke replied, quietly, but with such dreadful menace in his voice that I shuddered, hearing it."No, not a finger'll I raise agin the man, whoever he is," Blott answered, doggedly. "Not a finger!""You will think better of it, Blott; but come into the cabin, though it is a poor thing since the boys held it against the Regulators," Burke answered, as if to turn the subject to pleasanter things."Were you one of 'em?" Blott asked, as if loath to go on."No; or how should I be here? I was late, you see, and when I stuck my head out of the bushes there the cabin was afire, and our men holding up their hands and crying for mercy.""What happened then?" Blott asked."What would be likely to happen? The posse tied them hand and foot and stood them in a row, and before you could count a hundred, had picked a judge and jury. Others went and cut uprights and a crossbeam for the gallows, and when the trial was over the thing was ready as you see it now. After they had convicted the prisoners, every one had his say, but not one peached. Then they strung them up; and when all were dead, they dug holes, one under each man, and so dropped the five into their graves and covered them up, and there they rot. But come, this is idle talk, and we ought to be at work"; and partly following and partly pushing Blott, the two disappeared within the cabin.When they were gone I remained where I was, not knowing whether to fly or lie still; but while thus deliberating, a ray of light fell across my face, and hearing voices, I partly arose and peered through a crevice into the building. A lantern stood on the rude bench that ran across the room, and beside it Burke was busy with something he held in his hand, while Blott sat a little way off, seemingly taking no interest in what the other was doing. After a while, Burke bringing the object he held near the lantern, I saw it was a pistol, its black barrel glistening in the uncertain light like the body of a serpent."There, that will do, that will do. A beauty, too! and now for the others," he exclaimed, as he fell to work on a second weapon, cleaning and polishing it as he had the first. Afterward taking from his belt a third and a fourth, he cleaned and loaded them as he had the others. "There! I think I am ready for the Appletop gentleman; but how are your pistols, Blott? In good shape, I hope?" he purred, looking up as if for the first time."I don't know, an' I don't care, for I'll have nothin' to do with the murder.""Don't speak so roughly, Blott; don't, you shock me. But what are you going to do, then?" Burke continued, keeping his eyes on his companion, though the latter did not look in his direction any more than as if he had not been present."What'm I goin' to do? I'm goin' to leave this cursed place," Blott answered, standing up."Is that fair, Blott? Is it fair, after learning my plans? You would be a witness against me, without being guilty, you know," Burke answered, softly, taking a pistol in each hand. At this I thought to cry out, so dreadful did Burke's movement appear and so unconscious was Blott of any danger; but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth and my throat was like the dust of the road. Paying no attention to the movements or voice of the other, Blott answered, angrily, and as if secure in his own house:"You can go to the devil, Burke, if you like; I'll not betray you, but you'll never lack for witnesses to hang you.""You don't mean that, Blott! You don't, surely! Think again. There will be no danger, and a lot of money to share. A lot, I say.""You can't tempt me. I don't care about the risk, but I sha'n't be a party to no cold-blooded murder. I didn't come here to engage in any such fool business"; and he turned on Burke as if defying him."If you are not going to do as I wish, I will not help you longer, nor give you liquor. I can't afford to keep a dead one in food and whisky," Burke went on in a whining voice, as if loath to act."Shut off the whisky, and be damned to you, if you wish! I may want a drink bad enough to-morrer to kill a man, an' I shouldn't wonder if I did; but I'm not feelin' that way to-night," Blott answered, sullenly."Then take that, you booby, you driveling idiot!" and Burke leveled a pistol full at Blott's breast and fired. Too late the latter sought to spring upon his enemy, but with the movement he threw up his hands, and without cry or sound of any kind sank down upon the floor.Burke, who had sprung to his feet, stopped short when he saw Blott waver and fall. And thus he stood watching him, with his face half-revealed. When some time had passed and Blott did not stir, Burke went to him, and lifting his hand, let it fall to the floor."Dead, and so quick, too, the ass! But he would have it, and I could do nothing less. Did he suppose I would let him go knowing what he did! Well, well, you need not fear spooks longer, Blott, and I hope they will find you better company than I have"; saying which, he stood contemplating the fallen man as if reflecting on his fate. At last, gathering himself together, he went on: "Lie there, you donkey! till I come back, when a hole will put you out of sight. Better work alone than with such a baby. Yes, yes, much better!" And his voice, which a moment before had been like the cry of a wild beast, was now soft and purring, as if with the occasion all feeling of anger had vanished from his heart forever.NOTE.—At the time of which Gilbert Holmes speaks, the inhabitants of the Mississippi Valley were greatly harassed by outlaws; but these, differing from the thugs of the East, were often men of education and considerable culture, like Burke. Many of them were the sons of merchants and clergymen and people of character, who thought to commence in the West a better life, or continue their downward course with greater license. These social outcasts were, in the end, driven from the country, or exterminated by bands of Regulators organized by the communities for that purpose. For many years, however, men were not safe abroad, unless in companies or heavily armed, if thought to have money. Horse-stealing was a common crime, and more surely punished with death than murder, as is the case in all new countries. Notwithstanding this, and contrary to what is generally thought, the community was, as a whole, made up of the highest type of men and women; men and women who spoke pure English and in the main were refined and well educated. Coming to the new country, they gave up every comfort to better their fortunes, enduring hardship with cheerfulness, in the prospect held out of wealth and independence for their children, if not for themselves.—THE AUTHOR.
CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE TIGER'S MOUTH
When I awoke the sun was high in the heavens and the air filled with the songs of birds and the sweet fragrance of the woods. Lying still and resting, in no mood to move, I looked out on the world from a great fissure in the side of the tree where I had made my bed. Far off in the ambient air, and immovable, an eagle pinioned, as if pondering on the great tree's overthrow. Near by and alert, a bluejay uttered its discordant cries, and on a projecting limb, almost within my hand, a squirrel sat upright, rubbing his nose and looking down in wonder on the fallen monarch. Thus outstretched, and with no thought of stirring, a noise reached me from the opening of the tree, and sitting up, I saw my bundle tossed this way and that by a cub no bigger than a three-months' puppy. This at first in play, but by and by coming on the odor of the food, the youngster's mood changed, and it tore at the package as if ravenous with hunger. Seeing this, I sprang out, and grasping the brute by the neck, threw it to one side. In no way hurt, it yet uttered a doleful cry, as these animals will. Not regarding its complainings in any way, I busied myself putting my bundle to rights, until presently, the cries continuing, they were answered by a fierce growl from the opening of the glade. Looking in the direction from whence it came, I saw a huge bear coming toward me, half uprisen, her teeth showing white and cruel against the deep color of her blood-red mouth. Transfixed, I fell to trembling, for of escape I could see no way, save that from which the brute came on, dense undergrowth barring the road and making flight impossible, even if I could have hoped to outstrip the fierce creature. While thus bewildered, not knowing what to do, the hollow of the tree where I had passed the night caught my eye, and with the sight hope revived in my heart. For there at least the brute might not dare to follow. Thinking thus, I sprang into the opening, but the enraged animal, after smelling about as if fearing a trap, being assured, followed resolutely on. Seeing this, I hurried forward, at first upright, and then stooping, and finally on my hands and knees. As the tree contracted and my progress was lessened, I could feel the breath of the savage animal stir my hair, while her angry growls filled my ears as if she were already upon me. Glancing back, I saw her some way off, but coming on slowly and as if in fear of being caught in the tree. At this I sought to crowd myself forward where she could not come, but presently the opening becoming contracted, so that I could make no further headway, I knew not what to do. Now, indeed, hope died within me, and no longer able to look back or scarce move my body, I lay still, listening to the deep breathing of the animal as it came steadily toward me. At last in an agony of fear I put forth all my strength anew, and to my great joy the walls of the tree, which had before been hard and unyielding, now crumbled and fell apart under the pressure of my outstretched hands. While thus striving to make some headway, light broke in on my prison, and looking forward, I was gladdened by the sight of an opening a few feet away, caused by the breaking of the tree in its fall.
Cheered by what I saw, I struggled forward with new courage, making a way, sometimes with my hands, but more often with my head and face. In this manner I at last reached the opening; but now, when safety seemed assured, my strength left me, and I lay as one dead, unable to move or cry aloud. Regaining some mastery over myself after a time, I dragged my body through the opening, my garments torn and my face and hands dripping with blood. This I did not much regard, and revived by the cool air and the thought that I was free, my strength came back, and from lying unable to stir I had now no fear at all. Stooping down, I looked into the opening, and fortunate it was, for the fierce brute, discovering my escape, was already backing from the tree. Frightened anew at this, I stuck my face into the opening, and cried out in rage, as if daring the creature to come on. At this she stopped, and after a moment, answering my challenge with an angry growl, started anew in my direction. Coming a little way, she stopped again, and despite my cries, turned back. At this, observing her cub, and scarce knowing what I did, I ran and caught it in my arms, and returning, thrust it into the narrow opening, wrenching its limbs to make it cry with pain. No sooner had I done this than the mother turned back, growling in fierce anger and tearing at the sides of the tree with her teeth and claws in vain effort to reach her offspring. Seeing this, I fell to beating the poor thing with all my strength, so as to make it cry the louder. When, however, some time had passed and the bear could make no further headway, and made as if she would turn back, I thrust the cub far into the opening, and giving it a cruel stroke, left it there.
Hastening to the spot where my bundle lay, I snatched it up, and turning, fled through the opening of the glade into the forest beyond. Overcome with fear, and not regarding the direction I took, I ran on, looking back with each step to see if I were followed. At last, worn out with fatigue and hunger, I could go no farther, and throwing myself on the ground, burst into a paroxysm of tears. Now indeed was I forlorn. Lost in the forest and beset by wild beasts, what danger might I not fear! Thus I lay, until at last, rested and reassured, I rose to my feet. Above my head as I looked up the spreading trees, serene and calm, bent over me with steadfast gaze, and as if in pity and tender sympathy. Listening, I heard in their soft murmurings, melodies I knew, sweet sounds that might be the voices of angels watching over the lost of earth or guarding their departing souls to the portals of Heaven above. Comforted, I went forward, and in a little while, coming to a meandering stream, took off my torn clothes, and casting them aside, cleansed myself in its limpid waters. Putting on new garments, I looked about for some place to eat my morning meal, and this I saw a little way off, beside a trickling spring, rimmed about with flowers and verdant mosses. On its edge, as I approached, a thrush refreshed himself in its cool depths, and waiting till he was gone, I took out my store of food, and sitting down beside the sparkling water, ate my fill. Then burying my face in its depths, I arose, and put the little food I had remaining in my pocket, and refreshed and hopeful, started on my way.
Now the trees took on a brighter look, and swaying and curtesying this way and that as I went forward, seemed as if pointing the direction I should go. Striving to follow some given course, noon passed, and so the afternoon, without sign of man or any clew to guide me. At last, as night approached, my strength failed me; and now the birds, as if in sympathy with my mood, no longer fluttered their gay plumage, but flew back and forth in the gathering twilight, swiftly and silently hastening to their hiding-place for the night. In the open before me, however, and as if to cheer my solitude, a thrasher flew forward, and at intervals, running on, looked back, saying as in words: "Come on; this is your road." At last, its mission done or tiring with the effort, it flew away, and I saw it no more. Watching its flight, the treetops still reflected back the hue of the departing sun, and midway in their height some trace of yellow was yet to be seen, but near the ground were already black as night with the fast-gathering shadows. At this moment, when hope was dead within me, I came, and without thought, upon a beaten road, but whether that which I had left the night before or not I did not know nor care. Elated, my strength returned, and sitting down I took what food I had and ate it, thankful for so much, and without thought of the morrow. Strengthened, I started afresh, but in what direction I could not tell. Thus I went on till the moon arose, but without sight of man or house. Nor was there sound of any kind, save the sighing of the forest, all Nature sleeping as if in recompense for the debauch of the previous night. Going forward, cheerful of heart, I was not much surprised when a light flashed out before me, and then another and another. Pushing on, I came after a while upon a little village of huts scattered along the highway, some near the road and others farther off. Peering through the window of the first I came to, in hopeful expectancy of food and lodging, a comely woman, large, and fine of face, sat on a bench, her children gathered about her kneeling at their evening prayers. Of room, however, there was scarce enough to swing a cat, and this so crowded as not to afford place for another; and so, with a longing look at the little group, I went on to the house beyond. Here there were only three children, as I could plainly see, but as if the saving had been known in advance, the place was made to fit, and so there was no room for more. The next house, dark and forbidding, gave back no response to my knocking, and so I went on to the fourth, a little hut standing close beside the road. Here there was sickness, and though they bade me stay, I could not find it in my heart to thus obtrude myself upon their gentle hospitality. At the hut beyond they would have welcomed me, but a guest already filled the space, and so they could offer me no place where I could lie.
In this way I went on, now somewhat depressed, till I reached the extremity of the little village, and here I came upon a building, larger than the others, and standing back from the road, as if courting greater privacy. A dull light showed in its single window, but high up, so that I could not scan the interior as I had the others. Hearing voices, I knocked, confident of a welcome, so imposing was the structure. For a moment silence followed my summons, and then a voice bade me enter. Lifting the latch, I opened the door and went in; but entering, no one spoke nor said aught of welcome as I stood looking about me. Of the room, it was the size of the building, and without furniture of any kind, save a bench that ran beside the wall. On this I presently made out two men, for of light there was none save from a lantern that stood on the floor, clouded with dirt and smoke. This I thought strange; but more surprising still, a man, half-sitting, half-reclining, in the farther corner of the room, his legs securely fastened to a huge ring fixed in the floor. Startled, I turned about and would have fled, but one of the men, who had been seated, springing between me and the door, cried out:
"Gilbert Holmes! by all the gods of Greece and Rome!"
Hearing him, I needed nothing more to tell me it was Moth; and alas! he barred the way—and of exit there was no other. Seeing this, I stood still, looking into his face, my own aflame with anger and shame.
"Thank you, my lad, for saving me further trouble," he went on, with sarcastic glee. "I have had many setbacks lately, but things at last seem to be coming my way. A robber and a runaway in twenty-four hours will do pretty well for an amateur. One I capture, and the other comes to me of his own accord. Yes, I am certainly in luck"; and Moth chuckled, as if fortune was at last favoring him beyond all other men. "Come, my lad," he continued, after a moment's pause, seeing I did not speak; "do not stand there dumb, but tell me what good fortune brings you into my hands."
"It's not that I want to see you," I answered, at a loss whether to answer him or no.
"Of course not, my dear. You have not shown any liking for my company, I am sorry to say, though I mean you no harm. But I hope it will be different hereafter," he answered, leering at me.
"It will not, sir! You have no right to pursue me, and I will never go with you; I'll die first."
"Oh, yes, you will! And I will not let you get away again, either," he answered, confidently.
"You can't fasten me so I'll not escape. I'd kill you if I couldn't get away without," I answered, my anger passing all bounds.
"You would, would you, you little devil! But what I want is for the best, and go back with me you shall," he answered, determinedly, and as if that ended the matter.
"I say I'll not—never! You think me a child, and I was, but you have made me something more. Don't come near me! I'll never let you take me alive!" I screamed, as he took a step in my direction, my anger growing to white heat.
"Tut, tut, child! Do not fly into such a passion. Listen to reason. I am not going to harm you," he replied, soothingly.
"What is all this about, anyway?" the man who had been seated beside Moth here interposed, coming forward and holding the lantern aloft so as to see me the better. "Good God! lad, what is the matter with your face?" he went on. "You look as if you had been run over by a harrow."
"It was scratched in the woods," I replied, quieting down.
"Why, it is seamed and slashed like a piece of raw meat. No, no, the brush never did that, lad!" he went on, examining it more carefully.
"It's nothing, sir, and will be all right in the morning," I answered.
"Maybe, but for fear I'll rub some salve on it to help it along," he answered; and going to a small cupboard, brought back a cup of grease, which he smeared over my face. "There, that will do for to-night, and in the morning I will dress it again."
"You are foolish to waste grease or sympathy on him, jailer," Moth interposed. "That is the lad we have been looking for all day, and a precious sly one he is, too."
"Well, he does not look it," the jailer answered, "but frank about the eyes as my own boy, though his face is not much to speak of in its present shape."
"I'm as honest, sir, as I can be, and this man has no business to say I'm not, nor claim any rights over me," I answered, appealingly.
"Do not let him fool you, jailer. Those brown eyes of his have more deviltry in them than there is in that highwayman's whole body," Moth answered, looking across at the man in the corner, who had straightened up and now sat silently regarding us.
"I'm not bad," I cried, laying hold of the jailer's hand, "and I haven't harmed any one, nor taken what didn't belong to me."
"I am sure of it," he answered, kindly.
"I told you he would fool you, for in cunning and evasion he is Satan's own imp," Moth answered, anger showing in his voice.
"Don't believe him," I answered. "He has no right to pursue me as he does. He's not my guardian."
"Who is your guardian, and where is he?" the jailer asked, as if that would settle it.
"Uncle Job Throckmorton, and he lives in Appletop. He left me at Rock Island till he could come back, and yesterday this man planned to kidnap me, and that's why I ran away," I answered, determined to tell my story.
"I know Mr. Throckmorton, and he is an upright, honest gentleman, if there is one in the state," the jailer replied.
"Then don't let this man pursue me longer," I answered, "for he has no right."
"I have you already," Moth answered, "and so there is no need to pursue you farther. You are under age and an estray, for Throckmorton's not your guardian, and can be reclaimed by the owner wherever found. Is not that so, jailer?"
"Maybe; but I think you ought to have a warrant to take him," he added, brightening up at the thought.
"Nonsense! It is not necessary. You are a justice, and it is your business to hold him pending investigation."
"Why should I, if you have nothing to prove your right to him?"
"I have, and you know it," Moth answered, confidently.
"I do not," the jailer replied, doggedly.
"Well, I tell you so now, and that I shall hold you responsible as an officer of the law for his safety," Moth answered, with savage determination.
"Well, I say I'll not turn a hand to help you. The statutes of Illinois are very liberal about boys being at large, and I am not going to interfere with this one," the jailer answered.
"You will not dare to refuse to perform the duties of your office," Moth answered, desperately.
"It is not my duty to detain him," the jailer answered.
"I'll never go with him," I spoke up, encouraged by the jailer's manner and speech. "He has no more claim on me than that robber."
"Yes, I have; and you will go with me, just as the robber did," Moth replied. "I will make you go."
"You can't; and if you were not an old man I'd wallop the life out of you right here and now," I cried, my anger getting the better of me again.
To this Moth made no response, but stood still, eying me for a while in silence; then turning to the jailer, he said:
"To-morrow I will bring an officer to take this lad, my client's ward according to the judge's ruling, and you dare not let him go meanwhile. He is a runaway, and I call on you to hold him."
"If you want to leave him here, perhaps you can, provided you pay his board and lodging, but I will not assume any responsibility—not for a minute," the jailer answered, cowed by Moth's manner and confident air.
"Yes, you will, and you will secure him in the same way you have the highwayman," Moth answered, pointing to the robber.
"I'll see you damned first. He is not a criminal, but a child, and I will not tie him up, nor will you," the jailer answered.
"You are not fit to fill the office you do; but I must be satisfied, I suppose. Anyway, he can't escape," Moth answered, gazing about him as if to judge of the strength of the room.
"No," the jailer replied, in a voice that plainly said he wished I could; "and now, sir, if you have no one else to lock up and no more orders to give, I will shut up shop and go home."
Moth returning no answer to this, the jailer crossed to where the robber sat and pinioned his arms, after which he attached the rope to a ring in the wall, but not so closely that the prisoner could not lie down. Then taking his lantern, he motioned Moth to go ahead, following him to the door. There turning around, he pointed to a bunk in the corner, saying:
"You will not find it hard, my lad"; but as if this was not enough, he turned back, and taking my hand, bade me not to fear, adding that he would see that my uncle got word of what had happened on the succeeding day.
CHAPTER XXVIII
GILBERT AND THE HIGHWAYMAN JOIN FORCES
When they were gone the moon served in some measure to light the room, and taking advantage of it, I examined the window and door, to see if there was not some way of escape. In vain, however; and discouraged I sat down on the empty bench, thinking how much better off I had been the night before, for then at least I was free. While thus overcome by my sad thoughts, the robber spoke up, and with such cheerfulness and strength of voice that I turned to him in astonishment.
"So the little spook of a lawyer has trapped you, too, has he? But why so sad about it?"
At this I only stared, but after a while, remembering poor Fox and Mr. Lincoln's grand way, I answered:
"Yes, I'm trapped, and without reason."
"That is always the way. Reason plays hide and seek with us, but might is always on hand and wide awake. Moth puts me in jail because I sought to harm him. He too ought to be here, though, for seeking to harm you; but he is free and you are in jail, and that is the way it goes. There is always some bit of injustice, I have noticed, in everything that is done," the robber went on, but more as if talking to himself than to me.
"What have you done that he's after you?" I asked, interested in him because of his cheerful way and kind speech.
"Me! I tried to rob him."
"To rob him!" I exclaimed, wondering that any one should try to rob Moth.
"Yes, in the woods, as he was pursuing you. For you are the lad, I expect, that went by as I lay in wait."
"Yes," I answered, not knowing whether I was or no.
"After you had passed he came along, his horse all afoam, and I followed on. When he stopped at the place where you left the road, I called to him to throw up his hands, but instead he drew a pistol and fired at me point-blank."
"The rascal!" I interrupted; for everything that Moth did appeared hateful to me.
"Yes, and I, not to be outdone, fired back, but over his head, thinking to frighten him; and truly enough, for he turned and fled. My horse was the better of the two, but he the lighter, so for a long time there was no advantage. At last, my animal having the best wind, I overhauled him, and releasing a pistol I raised it and fired, intending, as before, to frighten him into giving up his purse, for I do not think I could kill a man if I were starving."
"Well?"
"Well, just as I fired, my horse, left to himself, stumbled, and falling on his face, threw me over his head into the road."
"Then what happened?" I asked, sympathizing with him in his misfortune.
"The fall stunned me, and before I could so much as stir the little scamp had disarmed me, and when I looked up, bruised and hurt, he held a pistol within an inch of my nose."
"That was too bad," I answered, sorry that Moth should have been the victor.
"When I had recovered a little, he told me to get up, and keeping me under the muzzle of a pistol, marched me forward. After a while, coming across a farmer, they bound me with ropes and straps, and in that shape brought me here."
"What will he do with you now?" I asked, forgetting my own sorrows in his.
"Take me to the county jail. They would have done it to-day, only the jailer and he were off in search of you. Oh, if I had my hands and legs free, I would show him a trick worth two of his!" the robber exclaimed, surveying his limbs with a sigh.
"What would you do?" I asked.
"Leave here," he replied, "within an hour; and we would go together, and so double his rage."
"To do this all you want is your hands and feet?" I asked, doubtingly.
"That is all, and I wouldn't go through the door if it were open."
I could set him free, and why not, I asked myself, the sweat starting out all over me at the thought. What wrong would there be in it, for it was as the robber said—Moth had a right to put him there, but no right to treat me the same way, and in breaking the law he was no better than the highwayman. Reasoning thus, I determined to do what the robber said, and so answered:
"I'll cut the ropes, if that's all you want."
"I shall be much obliged if you will, but I'll not ask you to do it," he answered.
"Why not?"
"Oh, perhaps because I am foolish."
"How will you get out if you are free, as you say?" I asked, not seeing any way.
"Oh, easy enough," he answered. "I have been planning it all day as I lay here on my back. I would use the bench as a ram to displace the logs overhead, for they are short and not half fastened. Once in the loft, it would be easy to remove the shingles, and being on the roof, the ground is not ten feet away."
"That seems easy," I answered.
"It is; for the jail is a poor affair, and only intended for small offenders; and if prisoners have not escaped, it is because they were bound, as I am, or did not think it worth while to try."
What he said was true; and now resolved in my mind, and elated at the prospect of getting even with Moth, I went to the cupboard, and finding a knife, as I had thought, took it and cut the cords that bound the robber's arms and legs.
"There, you are free!" I cried, pleased at what I had done.
"Thank you, my lad; and now we will not lose any time, for we ought to be far away by sunrise," he answered. But when he got to his feet he could scarce stand. "It is nothing," he went on, noticing my surprise, "only I have to get the blood into my legs and arms again before I can do anything, for they are as stiff as ramrods." This did not take long, and in a few seconds he was busy with his preparations for our escape. "See!" he exclaimed, straightening up, "I can touch the ceiling with my hands. Now help me with the bench, for two are better than one. There, that will do. Now send the end of it into that log overhead, as if it were Moth's backbone. Good! we moved it a little. Now again. See! it is giving way." This was true, and at the third stroke it flew out of place, leaving an opening a foot wide. "That is fine, and one more will be enough. Now! right into the small of his back again," and with the words we gave the next log a stroke, lifting it clear from its place, as we had the first.
"That hole is big enough to drive a sleigh through," he exclaimed; and placing the bench on the floor, stood on it, and taking hold of the edge of the opening, swung himself into the loft. "Now, my lad, give me your hand," and doing as he said, I found myself in a moment seated beside him. "We are getting on finely, and the rest will be easy. There! stay where you are, my son, and in a minute I will give you a glimpse of the shining stars." Saying which, he took one of the logs we had displaced, and with it drove a hole through the roof as big as a barrel. At this, and greatly to our surprise, the watchdog in the adjoining yard, aroused by the noise, set up a furious barking, running up to the jail door, where it kept up its angry outcry.
"Quick, my lad! We must go back. It is the jailer's dog, and the old man will be sure to come to see what is the matter"; and without wasting time, the robber lowered himself through the opening to the floor below. "Now let yourself down, and I'll catch you," he called. Doing as he said, I took hold of the cross-beam and let my body swing through the opening, and he taking me in his arms, sat me down safely on the floor.
"Quick! into your bunk, and I'll do the same as soon as I put this bench back." And not a moment too soon, for scarce had he thrown himself on his pallet when the jailer opened the door, and pushing his lantern into the room, peered about.
"Hello there! how do you find yourselves? Comfortable-like?" he asked, when he had succeeded in making us out by the dim light.
"Yes, we are all right. Why, what is the matter? is it time to get up, or has Moth sent you to inquire after our health?" my companion answered, yawning, but with some sarcasm in his voice.
"Never mind about Moth. I heard the dog barking, and thought you might be wanting something, but if not, I'll go back to bed," he answered, as if excusing himself.
"No, we are not in need of anything, thank you. Good night, and pleasant dreams," my companion called out.
"Good night," the jailer answered; and closing and fastening the door, went away.
When he was gone we lay for some time without speaking, until at last the robber, springing up, called out:
"Hello! young man, are you asleep?"
"No; how could I be?" I answered, starting to my feet.
"I thought you looked a little tired when you came in to-night, that is all. Well, now for another try," and with that he placed the bench beneath the opening, and standing on it as before, climbed into the loft, lifting me after him.
"Now for the roof; and as the hole is big enough to push a washtub through, there is no occasion for making any more noise. Let me help you," and with the words he lifted me through the opening, climbing up himself a moment later.
Descending to the eaves without loss of time, he took my hands and lowered me the length of his arm, when, letting go his hold, I dropped to the ground. Inquiring if I was all right, he did not wait, but following, alighted without harm. At this moment, when we thought ourselves free, the dog again set up a dreadful barking, running out into the moonlight within a few feet of where we lay prostrate in the weeds.
"We're lost," I whispered, seeing no way of returning to the room we had left; but placing his hand over my mouth the robber bade me keep my peace. A moment later the jailer came to the door of his hut, but after looking about for a while and yawning, called to the dog, and turning about, reëntered his house. For a long time we lay motionless, afraid to move, until everything being quiet again, we made our way on our hands and knees to the forest, some way off. Here, regaining our feet, we hurried on for a mile or more without speaking, until at last coming to an opening in the trees, we stopped in the bright moonlight and looked into each other's faces.
"Fox," I exclaimed, seeing him now clearly for the first time.
"Fox! how do you know that?" he asked, surprised, starting back.
"I know, for I was with Mr. Lincoln when you sought to rob the stage."
"Good Lord! what are you saying?" he exclaimed, with a scared look.
"Yes, and I heard you promise him you'd change your ways," I answered, angrily, thinking of Mr. Lincoln and the sorrow he would feel at Fox's want of good faith a second time.
"Oh, I remember you well enough now; and, my God, I meant what I said, too!"
"Then why didn't you carry out your promise?" I asked.
"It was my damned luck not to, that is all. For when you were gone from the tavern where I stayed, the old man I robbed of the watch had me arrested; but while on my way to jail I escaped, and as good fortune would have it this time, I ran across the very thief who got me into trouble at first. Recognizing him, and being ready, when he sought to rob me I overcame him, and so made him dismount, and taking his pistols and horse, rode off. That is how it happened that I did not await Mr. Lincoln's return and that I am on the road again."
"What have you been doing?" I asked, pleased at what he said.
"Not much in my line," he answered, sadly, waving his hand; "mostly begging a night's lodging or a meal here and there, till I ran across Moth."
"You will never reform, I'm afraid," I answered, sorrowing, he was so pleasant of face and voice.
"Perhaps not; but I will make no more promises, anyway. And now, just as I once owed my freedom to Mr. Lincoln, so I owe it to you. It is more than life to me, too, for if a man is once condemned, that settles him for all time."
"I only helped myself in helping you, and so you owe me nothing," I answered, true enough.
"Yes, I do. One never asks a neighbor why he does a good act. I could not have escaped except for you, and I owe you a debt I can never pay."
"No, for I couldn't have got off without you, and so we're quits. It's good to be free again, though," I exclaimed, drawing in a long breath of the sweet air.
"Yes," he answered, brightening up; "and on such a night, too! How beautiful everything is—the moon, the sleeping trees, the restful shadows, the soft stir of the leaves!" and he sighed as a better man might have done in his place.
"I hope we'll neither of us ever be in such a fix again," I answered, my happiness at our escape dampened by compassion for my companion and his dangerous way of life.
"No need in your case, surely; but for me," he went on, as if reading my thoughts, "who can tell? My sins will follow me on horseback, let me do what I may. There will be no dodging them, either. It is the first misstep that guides your footsteps ever afterward, my son; but the roads seem so much alike at the start that you can hardly tell one from the other. Both are bordered with flowers, and the sun shines as warm on one as the other; and yet the difference and the quick change if we go wrong! Then the trees lose their green and the flowers fade, and the sun goes out as if it were night. Look to your footsteps, my friend, for once you stray off the beaten path, the lash of justice will scourge you ever afterward. Such is the criminal, and such am I, and there is never but one ending. Who that starts wrong, though, ever gives the ending or its quick coming a thought? This is my sermon to you, my son, and it is real preaching, for that was the calling I meant to follow for man's good and my own salvation when I started out in life. What a mess I have made of it, though, as others have done and will to the end. Not to repent, either, nor strive to, for on this road there is no turning back. The silliness of it all, and the futility! But do not regard what I say, lad. The lost ever thus grieve and go on preaching and reforming and falling anew. So there you are, and here am I; and which way do you go now?" he added, changing in a whimsical way, but as if pleased with his sermon.
"I'm going to Appletop," I answered, sorrowing over what he said, knowing he was making himself out bad when he was only unfortunate and foolish; "but I don't know where I am nor which way to go."
"I will put you on the road, and it is but a step," he answered; and taking my hand we plunged into the forest again. Walking on without speaking for half an hour, we came at last to a road that stretched away, white and glistening, in the bright moonlight.
"Here is your way, my son, and a plain one, too. Go to the right for a mile or thereabouts, where a road leads to the left. Follow it and it will take you zigzagging through the country to Appletop. You can't miss the way, and nothing will harm you; or if you should run across robbers, and maybe you will, say nothing, but go on, for they will not harm a lad like you."
"Where are you going?" I asked, reluctant to leave him.
"Why, what does that matter?" he answered, putting me off; but thinking better of it, added: "I am going to find my horse, the one I took from my friend the robber. He does not know any one but me now, nor I any one but him, and I am not going to leave him here."
"Where is he?" I asked.
"In the village we have just left; but the night is like day, and I shall have no trouble in finding him, and perhaps Moth's, too, who knows!" he added, his eyes lighting up as a boy's might when about to play a trick on a playmate.
"Oh, don't touch Moth's horse," I answered, filled with fear, so clever were his ways. "I wish you'd go with me, and not try to get your horse, and maybe get caught again.
"Never fear!" he answered, lightly. "Good by, and don't forget me, for I shall always be your friend, though not one you will care to own."
"I'm sure I shall; but don't take Moth's horse."
"Well, we will see. Good by."
Clasping his outstretched hand, I was loath to let it go, for he did not seem to me to be bad at all. Surely, I thought, there ought to be some way to save such a man, it not being his nature to do wrong, but a habit likely to grow upon him. Thus do the sympathies of the young ever go out to the wrong-doer before the world has taught them to classify men and treat all alike who go astray, without regard to their nature or surroundings; and thus mine went out to Fox that night as we parted in the white road, with the solemn moon looking down on our leave-taking.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE TRAGEDY OF MURDERER'S HOLLOW
Going the way Fox pointed out, I found the road as he had said; but so overwrought were my nerves by the events of the night that if by chance a shadow outlined the fanciful figure of a man across my path, I stood still, trembling and in doubt, until its harmless nature was disclosed. While thus peering ahead and striving to make out the objects in my path, a rabbit ran into the road and stopped, as if disputing my right to pass. This, strangely enough, disturbed me not a little, as if somehow I were discovered. While I stood still, hesitating whether to go on or turn back, so little control had I over myself, the plaintive notes of a whip-poor-will came to me from out the deep forest, as if in comfort of my loneliness. Clear and sweet, it warmed and cheered my heart like the greeting of a friend. For who that has been brought up in the country ever heard the notes of this songster of the night without such feeling or remembrance of it ever afterward? To all such who traverse the woods, or who are in trouble, it is as if some good spirit were awakening the echoes of the place to soothe their thoughts and calm their fears. Coming to me now, out of the slumbering trees, I was enlivened and cheered so that I went on as if in the company of friends. Thus quickly do those who are in trouble accept the semblance of what they wish for for the thing itself.
Going on as directed, I came at last to the summit of a bluff, from which I looked down into a valley filled with moonlight and sylvan shadows. The road descending the elevation, as I could see, there turned and followed the edge of the hill to the opposite side of the valley, where it reascended the height and was lost to view. Looking to know the reason of this strange detour, I saw it was caused by a shallow river, which following along the edge of the valley, crowded the road from its direct course.
Reaching the foot of the descent, the stream had scarce more water in its bed than the Little Sandy at its best; and wearied by my walk, I determined to cross the valley and so shorten the distance I would otherwise have to go. Looking to determine the course I should take, the plain lay spread before me, and midway in its breadth a grove of walnut trees lifted their graceful foliage to the sky, standing out black and clear against the pale grasses of the sleeping valley. Cheered by the sight, for there is no tree more attractive to the eye, its rich fruit bringing it nearer to us in sympathy of life, I went forward in high spirits, stopping as I crossed the little river to drink my fill and bathe my face in its refreshing waters.
Coming presently to the grove of trees, I plunged beneath their depths, to emerge a moment after in a cleared space, on the edge of which a log hut, charred by fire, stood in lonely seclusion. About it, and as if in mockery, rank weeds grew where once a garden had been planted. Wondering why such a spot should have been selected for a home, I went forward, and turning the angle of the ruin, came without thought upon a towering gibbet, from which ropes, frayed with the wind, dangled in the midnight air. Beneath these, and as if to make the story plainer, rude graves lifted their rounded forms in the bright moonlight. Recoiling at the sight, I had nearly fallen; but with my discovery, and as if the spirits of the dead were returned to earth, voices reached me, and seemingly from the shadow of the gallows and its dangling ropes. Questioning if I heard aright and hesitating whether to go forward or turn and fly, the voices came a second time, and now more plainly than before. In doubt of their friendliness, I threw myself down where I stood, and in that way was hidden by the weeds and the shadow of the crumbling ruin. Thus concealed, I was safe, unless, indeed, the course of the speakers crossed the spot where I lay hidden; but coming presently full on the gibbet, they stopped, one of them crying out in a voice of terror:
"In the name of all the spirits of hell, what's them?"
"What's what?" the other answered, softly, as if seeing nothing out of the way.
"Them graves an' danglin' ropes?"
"Why, what about them?"
"Are they real, or is't the phantoms comin' on agin?"
At this I recognized Blott's voice, now no longer whimsical, but constrained and full of fear. Greatly relieved, I rose to call his name, but doing so, discovered his companion to be the gambler Burke, who had robbed Mr. Singleton and afterward sought to murder Mr. Davis. Seeing him, I dropped down again, trembling and full of fear, for what could Blott be doing here, and in such company! Surely nothing good! And with the thought I hid myself more securely in the shadow of the abandoned hut.
"What is the matter, Blott?" the other replied, as if surprised. "Has liquor got the better of you again, or what is it that frightens you?"
"Frightens me! I'm not frightened; but why the devil have you brought me to this spot, of all others?"
"Was there ever spot more beautiful? Why, it is a bower fit for lovers," Burke replied, softly.
"Fit for the devil an' his bride, mebbe, but not for honest men. Why, the place's damned, Burke."
"Damned, Blott! Why damned? There is not a spot on earth more peaceful. Doves coo in the trees yonder, and birds nest there; but I see your old trouble is coming on again," Burke replied, more softly than at first, if that were possible.
"Curse you, Burke, an' your soft speech! My trouble ain't comin' on, but this place's enough to give a man the jimjams. It's haunted an' I'd rather visit the devil in his den than come here."
"You talk wildly, Blott. It is safe, and what more does one want? There is the gallows rotting away, and under it five good men as ever risked their lives for money; but harmless, Blott, harmless. They will never cast a shadow more, and the traveler may go his way for all the harm they can do him. Then why cry out, Blott?" Burke queried, in his purring voice.
"What these men come to you an' I'll come to, an' I don't care to be reminded of it. So let's leave the spot."
"What silly talk, Blott! what silly talk! Here no one comes, and here we are free from prying eyes. Fools think the hut is haunted, and that is why I have chosen it for a hiding-place. There is no spot on earth so safe, Blott."
"There's other places secure enough for me, an' I'd rather stand in the open than hide here and be safe," Blott answered, in anger.
"Will you never stop, Blott, will you never stop? I shall lose my temper, I am afraid, and it is always bad for those about me when I do," Burke answered, his voice, if possible, more subdued than before. "You can't put off the day you will hang by shutting your eyes, and what is there to fear from the graves of dead men or a rotting gibbet? You put me out, Blott."
"I don't care whether I put you out or not. I'm no boy," Blott answered, impatiently.
"Surely not! surely not! But we must have a hiding-place, and what one so safe as this, which every man shuns?"
"I'm not afeerd, but I don't like the company," Blott answered gloomily.
"These men will never betray us. Do they cry out that it was I who fired the shot for which they were hung? Not a bit of it. Give me dead men when there is anything to hide."
"You're the devil's own, Burke."
"Perhaps, Blott, perhaps; but what has the devil done to you or me that we should be afraid of him?"
"Why've we come here, anyway, I'd like to know?" Blott asked. "Our man'll not cross this cursed valley, an' while we're foolin' away our time he'll pass, an' so we'll lose him."
"There you go again, Blott! I told you he was not to start till one o'clock? So we have time and to spare," Burke answered, in his low, purring way.
"How do you know he'll not start till one? Or how do you know he's comin' at all, for that matter?" Blott replied.
"How did I know Hogge was coming this way that rainy night, or how do I know other things that are going on in the world that interest me?" Burke answered.
"Well, how do you?"
"Because I have a man on the outside whose interest it is to tell me. You don't suppose I trust everything to chance, do you?" Burke answered.
"You devil! Who's the man?"
"Well, I like that, Blott, I like that; and you an old constable, too! Why don't you ask me to give myself up; to put a halter around my neck?"
"If we're to be pards, Burke, you must trust me, for I'll know who's pullin' the strings or I won't go on."
"We are not going to be partners, Blott; or only in this. Why should we?"
"Then why have you brought me here to help you?"
"Because the man is said to be ugly to handle, and I might fail alone."
"Well, what'm I to git out of it if we're not pards?" Blott asked.
"We are partners in this, and you are to get one-third if you do as I tell you," Burke answered.
"What'm I to do?"
"Nothing of any account. You are to stand beside the road and fire when I do, and if one shot doesn't kill him, you are to keep on firing till he is dead. Is that hard, Blott? It is just play."
"You won't kill him, though, if he throws up his hands an' we git what we want?"
"Yes; he is to die whether he throws up his hands or not. That is the understanding," Burke answered.
"Whose understandin'?"
"My understanding with my partner, and in this he is to have his way; and why not?" Burke answered, in his soft voice.
"Great God! what does he want him killed for?"
"I don't know; but what does it matter? That is always the best way, for it leaves one enemy the less."
"Yes, and I hang for't, like these dead men, while you go free, you devil! No, I'll have nothin' to do with the murder. I didn't come here to kill a man 'cause somebody I don't know wants it," Blott answered, in a determined way.
"Don't talk foolishly, Blott; don't!" Burke replied, quietly, but with such dreadful menace in his voice that I shuddered, hearing it.
"No, not a finger'll I raise agin the man, whoever he is," Blott answered, doggedly. "Not a finger!"
"You will think better of it, Blott; but come into the cabin, though it is a poor thing since the boys held it against the Regulators," Burke answered, as if to turn the subject to pleasanter things.
"Were you one of 'em?" Blott asked, as if loath to go on.
"No; or how should I be here? I was late, you see, and when I stuck my head out of the bushes there the cabin was afire, and our men holding up their hands and crying for mercy."
"What happened then?" Blott asked.
"What would be likely to happen? The posse tied them hand and foot and stood them in a row, and before you could count a hundred, had picked a judge and jury. Others went and cut uprights and a crossbeam for the gallows, and when the trial was over the thing was ready as you see it now. After they had convicted the prisoners, every one had his say, but not one peached. Then they strung them up; and when all were dead, they dug holes, one under each man, and so dropped the five into their graves and covered them up, and there they rot. But come, this is idle talk, and we ought to be at work"; and partly following and partly pushing Blott, the two disappeared within the cabin.
When they were gone I remained where I was, not knowing whether to fly or lie still; but while thus deliberating, a ray of light fell across my face, and hearing voices, I partly arose and peered through a crevice into the building. A lantern stood on the rude bench that ran across the room, and beside it Burke was busy with something he held in his hand, while Blott sat a little way off, seemingly taking no interest in what the other was doing. After a while, Burke bringing the object he held near the lantern, I saw it was a pistol, its black barrel glistening in the uncertain light like the body of a serpent.
"There, that will do, that will do. A beauty, too! and now for the others," he exclaimed, as he fell to work on a second weapon, cleaning and polishing it as he had the first. Afterward taking from his belt a third and a fourth, he cleaned and loaded them as he had the others. "There! I think I am ready for the Appletop gentleman; but how are your pistols, Blott? In good shape, I hope?" he purred, looking up as if for the first time.
"I don't know, an' I don't care, for I'll have nothin' to do with the murder."
"Don't speak so roughly, Blott; don't, you shock me. But what are you going to do, then?" Burke continued, keeping his eyes on his companion, though the latter did not look in his direction any more than as if he had not been present.
"What'm I goin' to do? I'm goin' to leave this cursed place," Blott answered, standing up.
"Is that fair, Blott? Is it fair, after learning my plans? You would be a witness against me, without being guilty, you know," Burke answered, softly, taking a pistol in each hand. At this I thought to cry out, so dreadful did Burke's movement appear and so unconscious was Blott of any danger; but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth and my throat was like the dust of the road. Paying no attention to the movements or voice of the other, Blott answered, angrily, and as if secure in his own house:
"You can go to the devil, Burke, if you like; I'll not betray you, but you'll never lack for witnesses to hang you."
"You don't mean that, Blott! You don't, surely! Think again. There will be no danger, and a lot of money to share. A lot, I say."
"You can't tempt me. I don't care about the risk, but I sha'n't be a party to no cold-blooded murder. I didn't come here to engage in any such fool business"; and he turned on Burke as if defying him.
"If you are not going to do as I wish, I will not help you longer, nor give you liquor. I can't afford to keep a dead one in food and whisky," Burke went on in a whining voice, as if loath to act.
"Shut off the whisky, and be damned to you, if you wish! I may want a drink bad enough to-morrer to kill a man, an' I shouldn't wonder if I did; but I'm not feelin' that way to-night," Blott answered, sullenly.
"Then take that, you booby, you driveling idiot!" and Burke leveled a pistol full at Blott's breast and fired. Too late the latter sought to spring upon his enemy, but with the movement he threw up his hands, and without cry or sound of any kind sank down upon the floor.
Burke, who had sprung to his feet, stopped short when he saw Blott waver and fall. And thus he stood watching him, with his face half-revealed. When some time had passed and Blott did not stir, Burke went to him, and lifting his hand, let it fall to the floor.
"Dead, and so quick, too, the ass! But he would have it, and I could do nothing less. Did he suppose I would let him go knowing what he did! Well, well, you need not fear spooks longer, Blott, and I hope they will find you better company than I have"; saying which, he stood contemplating the fallen man as if reflecting on his fate. At last, gathering himself together, he went on: "Lie there, you donkey! till I come back, when a hole will put you out of sight. Better work alone than with such a baby. Yes, yes, much better!" And his voice, which a moment before had been like the cry of a wild beast, was now soft and purring, as if with the occasion all feeling of anger had vanished from his heart forever.
NOTE.—At the time of which Gilbert Holmes speaks, the inhabitants of the Mississippi Valley were greatly harassed by outlaws; but these, differing from the thugs of the East, were often men of education and considerable culture, like Burke. Many of them were the sons of merchants and clergymen and people of character, who thought to commence in the West a better life, or continue their downward course with greater license. These social outcasts were, in the end, driven from the country, or exterminated by bands of Regulators organized by the communities for that purpose. For many years, however, men were not safe abroad, unless in companies or heavily armed, if thought to have money. Horse-stealing was a common crime, and more surely punished with death than murder, as is the case in all new countries. Notwithstanding this, and contrary to what is generally thought, the community was, as a whole, made up of the highest type of men and women; men and women who spoke pure English and in the main were refined and well educated. Coming to the new country, they gave up every comfort to better their fortunes, enduring hardship with cheerfulness, in the prospect held out of wealth and independence for their children, if not for themselves.—THE AUTHOR.