What had I seen behind that log that frightened me so badly?
It was Barney Redman, the leader of the Swamp Dragoons. He had thrown himself flat on his back to escape observation, and was holding in the leash a gaunt, fierce-looking hound, which sprang forward and growled savagely at me as I approached his master’s hiding-place.
Now, although the captain of the Dragoons had the reputation of being a young desperado, I was not afraid of him or his dog either, and under almost any other circumstances I would have been the last one to run from him; but on this occasion, discretion was the better part of valor.
His presence there was enough to convince me that there was trouble ahead; and I knew 169that the sooner my companions were aroused and the camp put in a state of defense, the better it would be for us.
I can not begin to tell you how astonished I was to see him there. No one except an Indian could have followed our trail through the swamp that night; not even a bloodhound, for a good portion of our way lay over a bottom covered with water to the depth of a foot, and every one knows that scent will not lie on the water.
I could not understand it at all, and neither was I allowed time to think the matter over, for Barney, finding that he was discovered, raised a yell, and followed after me with all the speed he could command.
“Stop thar, Mark Coleman,” he shouted. “We owe you a good lickin’, and we’ve follered you too fur to let you get away now. Stop thar, I say, or I’ll let this yere dog at you, an’ he’s a varmint.”
The captain of the Dragoons had got things mixed again. You will remember that when Mark first made his appearance at Dead Man’s Elbow, and discovered Luke Redman in the 170tree and General Mason’s valise hanging to the rowlock of the skiff, Barney, who was standing on the bluff, had called him Joe Coleman, and threatened to have a settlement with him at some future day, if he did not immediately go back up the bayou, where he came from.
Since then he had found out that he had made a mistake in the boy, and that it was Mark, and not Joe, who had put the authorities on his father’s track.
When he saw me looking over the log at him, he supposed that I was my brother, and the very one he wanted to be revenged upon.
“Stop thar, I tell you,” repeated Barney. “We’re goin’ to squar’ accounts with you now fur findin’ out about that money.”
As I could not see the use of allowing myself to be punished for what Mark had done, if I could help it, I did not stop. I ran faster than ever, and fear lending me wings, I made my way through the bushes at a rate of speed that the fleet-footed Herbert Dickson himself would not have been ashamed of; but before I had taken a dozen steps, a figure, which seemed to 171rise out of the ground, suddenly appeared before me, and clasped me in its arms.
“Ugh!” exclaimed a familiar voice, “you wouldn’t wrestle the other day; you wrestle now.”
Here was another fellow who took me for my brother. It was Jim, the young savage whom we heard boasting so loudly on the day we visited the Indian camp.
How he happened to be there with the Swamp Dragoons I did not stop to inquire, for he had caught me with a fair back-hold, and was trying to throw me down.
“I am not the boy you challenged to a trial of strength the other day,” said I; “but if you are determined to have a wrestle, and nothing but a wrestle will satisfy you, I think I can accommodate you.”
And I did; for in less time than it takes to tell it, that young Indian’s heels flew up and his head came in violent contact with the ground.
Having disposed of Jim, I raised my horn to my lips, and, after repeating the signals of distress, was about to take to my heels again, 172when Barney and his dog came up, both fierce for a fight.
I did not wait for them to begin, but took the initiative myself by lifting my heavy boot and hitting Barney’s four-footed friend a kick under the chin that fairly lifted him from the ground.
It was plain that he had got all he wanted, for he ran yelping into the bushes, and Barney and I were left to finish the battle alone.
The leader of the Dragoons paused for a moment when he witnessed the discomfiture of his ally, and then came on more fiercely than ever.
“Oh, ain’t I goin’ to give it to you now?” he shouted, and I knew by the way the words came out that he was almost beside himself with fury. “A fellow who hits my dog, hits me.”
About this time I became aware that there was a great uproar in the camp. I heard a crashing in the bushes, which was followed, first by Indian yells, hoarse shouts of triumph and the baying of hounds; then by a rapid shuffling of feet and the sound of fierce blows, 173all of which, told me that there was a desperate battle going on.
This continued for a moment, and then—you can imagine how the cold chills crept over me when I heard it—the report of a gun, fired twice in quick succession, rang through the swamp, accompanied by something that sounded very much like the voice of a human being in distress.
What was it? Had any of our fellows been shot by the attacking party, or had they, in their desire to prevent the rescue of Luke Redman and to save the eight thousand dollars, so far forgot their prudence as to fire upon the Swamp Dragoons?
As this thought passed through my mind, I turned my eyes for one instant toward the camp, and to my amazement and alarm, discovered that the Swamp Dragoons were not alone. I saw a mass of struggling men and boys swaying to and fro in front of the camp, and conspicuous among them were Pete and his half-breed companions.
I was not so much astonished at this, however, as I was to see Tom Mason flitting about 174here and there, swinging a riding-whip, and apparently one of the most fierce and determined of the attacking party.
I saw, too, that our fellows were getting the worst of the fight; but, although they were greatly outnumbered, and were being pummeled unmercifully by the heavy whips with which their assailants were armed, they were doing their best to retain possession of the prisoner and of General Mason’s money. Mark held the valise in his hand, Sandy was carrying Luke Redman in his arms as if he had been an infant, and both were making the best of their way toward their horses, while Duke and Herbert were trying to cover their retreat.
I saw and heard all this during the single instant of time that I kept my head turned toward the camp. I was not allowed opportunity to make any further observations, for Barney had clutched me by the throat, and was making desperate efforts to put me on the ground.
He speedily became aware, however, that he had got his hands full, and began shouting loudly for help.
175“Jake! Jim!” he yelled, “lend a hand! Here he is!”
Jim, who was seated on the ground rubbing his aching head, had already received convincing proof that I was there, and a moment afterward Jake must have been pretty well aware of the fact also; for, as he came rushing up in response to the calls of his brother, I met him with a back-hander over the eye that must have made him see stars.
But I could not long hold out against three antagonists, each of whom was nearly, if not quite, as strong and active as myself.
Jake quickly recovered from the effects of the back-hander; Jim managed to get upon his legs at last, and, being attacked on all sides, I was thrown to the ground, and held there by two of my assailants while the other pulled some pieces of rope from his pocket and proceeded to confine my hands and feet.
If you have never been in such a situation, you can have no idea how it makes one feel to find himself wrapped up in strong cords, and to know that he is wholly in the power of his enemies, who can take vengeance on him at 176their leisure, and without the least fear of suffering in return.
So long as he is able to resist, be it ever so feebly, he can keep up some show of courage; but when he finds himself powerless to move even a finger, then it is that his nerve is tested.
This was my first experience in this line, and my feeling, as I looked into the scowling faces of my captors after I had been jerked to my feet, were any thing but pleasant, I assure you.
I did not let them see how badly I was frightened, but looked them squarely in the eye, and nerved myself for the punishment which I expected would be inflicted upon me without an instant’s delay.
In this, however, I was most agreeably disappointed. Barney was either in no hurry to consummate his vengeance, or else he did not have time to do it then; for, as soon as he had helped me to my feet, he ran toward the camp, followed by his companions.
All these events, which I have been so long in describing, happened in a short space of time. From the discovery of Barney behind the log until the end of the fight between our 177fellows and the Swamp Dragoons and their allies, probably not more than five minutes had elapsed.
During that time our triumph had been turned into utter defeat, and our hard day’s work completely undone. We had been overpowered and whipped out.
My companions had escaped by throwing themselves upon their horses, and our enemies, after following them a short distance, returned to the camp, and were now gathered about the fire, talking loudly and laughing uproariously.
Remembering the reports of the gun and the cries of distress I had heard, I ran my eye over the group to see if any of them were wounded; but my fears on this score were set at rest when I discovered the bodies of a couple of blood-hounds lying in front of the cabin.
These animals, as I afterward learned, had attacked our fellows with the utmost ferocity, and had been promptly shot by Duke Hampton.
Almost the first man my eyes rested on was Luke Redman, no longer bound and helpless, but standing erect among his companions, 178carrying General Mason’s valise in one hand and holding Black Bess with the other.
He was looking down at the hounds, and I knew by the fierce frown on his face that somebody would have to suffer for their death. Would he vent all his spite upon me, now that my companions were out of his reach?
I am older now than I was that night, and during the course of a long and eventful life have had more than my share of excitement and adventure; but I do not believe that I was ever more nearly overcome with fear than I was while I stood there looking at the crowd of men and boys who were gathered about our camp-fire.
I had good cause for alarm. In the first place, I was mistaken for my brother, and I knew that nearly every person before me held a grudge against him for something he had done. Tom Mason would want revenge for the thrashing Mark had given him a long time ago; Pete, the head man among the half-breeds, had been pulled down and thoroughly shaken by the dogs, and that was something he did not intend to overlook, as I knew by the experience 179I had already had with him that day. Barney and the rest of the Swamp Dragoons imagined that our fellows had heaped a great many indignities upon them, and they would certainly settle their accounts now; Jim would probably have something to say concerning the hard fall I had given him a few minutes before, and lastly, there was Luke Redman! I expected to suffer severely at his hands.
Barney, who was highly elated at the result of the encounter that had made me his prisoner, lost no time in hunting up his companions and revealing to them his good fortune.
They all yelled exultantly when their chief directed their attention to me, and after a short consultation with him and Tom Mason, they came forward in a body. Barney and Tom led the way, each of them carrying a riding whip in his hand.
I saw by the expression on their faces that something was going to happen.
When the Swamp Dragoons reached the place where I was standing, they gathered about me, and looked inquiringly at Tom Mason, as if waiting for him to say something. The latter advanced with a grin on his countenance, peered sharply into my face, and then looked at me from head to foot, as if taking my exact measure.
When he had completed his examination, he stepped back, and striking his boots with his riding-whip, said:
“Do you remember what I told you the last time I saw you, Mark Coleman? I said I was going to make things exceedingly lively for you this winter, didn’t I? Well, I think I have done it. You can thank me for every thing that has happened to you.”
“It’s him, then, is it?” exclaimed Barney. 181“Them fellers look as near alike as two peas, an’ I was a’most afeared we had gobbled up the wrong chap.”
“And so you have,” I replied. “I am not Mark Coleman, and Tom Mason knows it very well. My name is Joe.”
“No, I reckon not,” returned Barney, with a most provoking laugh. “Tommy has knowed you fur years an’ years, an’ so have we; an’ you can’t pull the wool over our eyes in no sich way as that ar’!”
“You don’t know me any better than I know myself, do you? If Mark had been in my place, you never would have captured him.”
“Wouldn’t? Why not?”
“Because he would have been too smart for you. He would have whipped you and Jake and Jim so badly that your mothers wouldn’t know you.”
“Wal, now, we’d ’a kept the skeeters off’n him while he was a-doin’ it,” said Jake, who was angry in an instant at the imputation I had cast upon his prowess. “But you can jest hush up that sass, ’cause we ain’t a-goin’ to stand it from you.”
182“No, we hain’t,” chimed in Barney. “We’re a-goin’ to pay you fur it now, an’ while we are about it, we’ll settle with you fur all the other mean things you have done.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“Every one of us is goin’ to give you ten good licks with this yere,” replied Barney, flourishing his riding-whip in the air. “Untie his hands an’ pull off his jacket!”
Seventy blows with a rawhide! Wasn’t that a pleasing prospect? How would you have felt if you had been in my place? Would you have taken the whipping quietly?
I was fully determined that I would not. I knew that I had never done any of the Swamp Dragoons an injury, and even if I had, they had no right to deal out such punishment as this to me.
“That’s the idee!” said Barney, as Jake and one of his confederates pulled off my coat after untying my hands. “Now loosen up on his feet. That b’iled shirt o’ yourn’ll have marks on it afore we are done with you, won’t it, Tommy?”
“That’s just what’s the matter!” replied 183Tom, hitting his boots another cut with his whip. “You don’t associate with boys who steal and tell falsehoods, do you? Ten good blows with this rawhide will pay you for saying that!”
Why the Swamp Dragoons were so stupid as to untie my feet, when there was no necessity for it, I do not know; but they did, and it gave me an opportunity to fight for my liberty.
I improved it on the instant. Jake must have been astonished at the weight of the blow that was planted squarely in his face, and so was I; for it drove him against Tom Mason with such force that the latter was knocked fairly off his feet.
This opened a way through the ranks of my enemies, and, before they could lift a finger, to detain me, I had leaped over the prostrate forms, and was running through the bushes at the top of my speed.
I was quite as much astonished at what I had done as the Swamp Dragoons must have been.
I made the attempt at escape, not because I 184thought it would be successful, but for the reason that I wished to postpone the moment of my punishment as long as possible.
I had fully expected to be knocked down or tripped up immediately; but, having accomplished this much, I began to hope that, aided by the darkness, I might elude my enemies altogether.
This hope, however, was short-lived. There were Indians and bloodhounds behind me, and in less than a minute both were on my trail.
As soon as the Swamp Dragoons found their tongues, they uttered loud yells of surprise and alarm, and called upon the men about the fire for assistance.
“What’s the matter over thar?” demanded the gruff voice of Luke Redman.
“Mark Coleman!” gasped the leader of the Dragoons. “We ketched him, but he has got away. Thar he is, runnin’ through the cane like a skeered turkey!”
“Turn your dogs loose on him!” shouted Luke. “Come, Injuns, do something fur us!”
There was no need that Luke Redman should call upon Pete and his companions for help. 185The former, at least, had reasons for wishing to prevent my escape, and as soon as he found out what was going on, he set up a whoop and started in pursuit.
I did not waste time in looking back at him, but my ears told me that he was coming, and that he was gaining on me at every step.
I heard the fierce yelps the hounds gave when they found my trail, and knew they would overtake me if the Indians did not. They might even tear me in pieces before their masters could come up to rescue me; but fearing the rawhide more than the teeth of the dogs, I kept straight ahead, doing some of the best running I ever did in my life, until a heavy hand was laid upon my collar, and I was jerked backward and thrown upon the ground.
“Ugh!” grunted Pete. “White boy good runner—very good runner; but no match for Injun. S’pose I put dogs on him!”
The Swamp Dragoons and the bloodhounds came up at this moment, and I feared that between them both I should be severely dealt with.
The dogs seemed determined to bite me, Jake 186and Tom were bent on taking revenge on me for knocking them down, while Pete, although he at first made some show of protecting me, was more than half inclined to allow them to act their pleasure.
There is no telling what might have happened had it not been for Luke Redman, whose stern voice sent the hounds cowering into the bushes, and arrested the hands that were uplifted to strike me.
“Get out, you whelps!” he roared. “Quit your foolin’, boys. We’ve no time to waste in settlin’ with him now. Fetch up the hosses, an’ let’s start fur hum.”
In obedience to these commands, my captors ceased their hostile demonstrations, and began preparations for instant departure. Barney and Jake busied themselves in tying my hands; the rest of the Dragoons brought up the horses belonging to the attacking party, which were hidden in the swamp a short distance from the camp, while Pete and the rest of the half-breeds ransacked the shanty, and took possession of the guns, saddles and hunting-horns which our fellows had left behind them.
187When every thing was ready for the start, Luke Redman, mounting Black Bess, rode at the head of the cavalcade, and I followed at his heels, in precisely the same situation in which the robber had been placed a few hours before—mounted on mother’s horse, with my hands bound behind my back.
“I told you somethin’ was a-goin’ to happen, an’ you laughed at me,” chuckled Luke Redman. “Now you’ll see how much fun thar is in ridin’ through a thick woods with your hands tied hard an’ fast.”
I had not gone a hundred yards from the camp before I found that there was no fun at all in it. The briers and cane were thick, and, as I could not raise my hands to protect my face, I received more than one blow and scratch that brought the tears to my eyes. But I made no complaint. Luke Redman had endured it during a journey of fifteen miles, and I thought I could endure it also.
That was my second dreary ride that night, and it was one I never wanted to take again.
What my captors were going to do with me, and in what direction they were traveling, I 188had no way of finding out, for they would not answer my questions. All I could tell was that Luke Redman took especial pains to avoid the clear ground, seeming to prefer the muddy and almost impassable bottom to the high and dry ridges; and that when day dawned, and it became light enough for me to distinguish objects about me, I found myself in a part of the swamp I had never visited before.
“Thar!” exclaimed Luke, reining in his horse on the banks of a deep bayou, and glancing back at the labyrinth of trees and bushes from which we had just emerged, “I’d like to see the man who can foller our trail. Now, Barney, you an’ Pete come here a minute.”
The persons addressed followed the robber a short distance up the bayou, and held a long consultation with him. When it was ended, Tom Mason, Luke Redman and the Swamp Dragoons dismounted, I was dragged out of my saddle, and the horses we had ridden were taken in charge by Pete and his half-breed companions, who crossed the bayou and disappeared in the woods on the opposite bank.
189Barney and his followers, in the meantime, were hunting about among the bushes which grew along the edge of the stream, and presently a large canoe was brought to light.
My face must have betrayed the interest with which I watched these proceedings, for Luke Redman said:
“I’m an old fox, an’ I think I have managed this thing jest about right. I know the men in the settlement will be arter us—I shouldn’t wonder if they was on our trail this very minute—an’ they may succeed in follerin’ us arter all the trouble I’ve tuk to throw ’em off the scent. When they reach this yere bayou, they’ll see that the hosses have crossed to the other side, an’ they’ll think, in course, that we are still on their backs; but we won’t be, ’cause we’re goin’ down stream in this yere dug-out. They’ll foller the trail of the hosses, but they won’t make nothin’ by it, ’cause Pete’s an Injun, an’ knows how to fool ’em.”
“Well,” said I, “since you have seen fit to explain your movements to me, perhaps you won’t mind telling me why you are keeping me a prisoner.”
190Luke Redman rubbed his chin, and looked down at the ground in a brown study.
“I reckon I might as well tell you now as any other time,” said he, after a moment’s reflection. “I want to use you; that’s the reason I am keepin’ you here. I want to use Tommy, too, an’ that’s the reason I’m keepin’ him.”
This was the first intimation I had had of the fact that Tom Mason was held as a prisoner, and the sudden start that young gentleman gave, and the expression of surprise and alarm that settled on his face, told me as plainly as words that it was news to him also. He looked earnestly at Luke Redman, then at Barney and his companions, and said in a faltering voice:
“I came here of my own free will, and you surely do not mean to say that I can not go home again when I feel so disposed?”
“Yes, I do mean to say that very thing,” replied Luke, coolly. “You’re a prisoner, same as this other feller.”
Tom staggered back as if some one had aimed a blow at him, his face grew deathly 191pale, and he looked the very picture of terror. In spite of all the trouble he had brought upon me, I pitied him from the bottom of my heart.
For several minutes no one spoke. Tom stood staring at Luke Redman in a sort of stupid bewilderment, as if he found it impossible to grasp the full import of the words he had just heard, and the man leaned on the muzzle of Sandy Todd’s shot-gun, which he had appropriated for his own use, and stared at him in return.
“You don’t quite see through it, do you?” said the latter, at length.
“No, I don’t,” Tom almost gasped. “I can’t understand what object you have in view in keeping me here, for I shall never reveal any of your secrets.”
“Oh, I ain’t at all afraid of that,” laughed Luke Redman, “’cause, if you should tell any of my secrets, I might tell some o’ yourn, which would be bad for you. Listen, an’ I’ll tell you all about it. The money in that carpet-sack belongs to your uncle. He don’t need it, ’cause he’s got more than he knows what to do with; but I do need it, an’, what’s more, I’m 192bound to have it. You don’t see that young Injun Jim anywhar, do you? Wal, jest afore we left the camp whar my boys rescooed me, he went to the settlement with a note which Barney writ to your uncle. That note told him that if he don’t quit makin’ so much fuss about the loss of his money, an’ give me a chance to get across the river with it, he’ll never see you ag’in. I know he thinks a heap on you, an’ sooner than lose you, he’ll call in the settlers, an’ give up huntin’ fur me. Ain’t that one way to slip outen the hands of the law?”
“It will never work,” said I, indignantly. “My father is one of the settlers, and he’ll not allow you to escape, even if General Mason does desire it.”
“Hold on a bit!” interrupted Luke Redman. “I ain’t done talkin’ yet. Your father will be one of the very fust to give up lookin’ fur me, ’cause I sent him a note, too, sayin’ that if he wanted to see you ag’in, he had best go home an’ mind his own business fur one week. If he does that, I’ll send you back to him safe an’ sound. If he don’t, I’ll sink you so deep in the bayou that none of your 193fellers will ever find you ag’in. Do you know now why I’m so sot on keepin’ you a prisoner?”
I certainly did, for Luke Redman’s scheme was perfectly clear to me. He knew he could not show himself outside the swamp as long as the authorities and settlers were on the watch, and he had detained Tom and me, hoping through us to work on the fears of our friends and relatives.
If they would let him alone for one week—or, to put it in plain English, if they would draw in the patrols who were guarding the river, and allow him to cross into Louisiana with the eight thousand dollars—he would return Tom and me to our homes, right side up with care; but if they persisted in searching for him, he would put us where no one would ever see us again.
I had never heard of so desperate a scheme before, and to say that I was amazed would but feebly express my feelings.
While I was thinking it over, and wondering if it would succeed, Tom recovered from his bewilderment, and showed that he could be 194plucky and determined, as well as mean and cunning.
“Well, this gets ahead of me completely,” said he, in great disgust. “This is the second trick you have played on me, Luke Redman, and I want you to understand that I won’t put up with it—that’s all about it. If you expect to keep me here, you are deceived for once in your life, if you have never been before. Whenever I get ready to go home, I shall go; and all the boys and bloodhounds and Indians in your whole gang can’t prevent me.”
“Can’t! Wal, I’ll mighty soon show you. If you’re going to get your back up an’ act onreasonable, we’ll have to tie you, too. Barney, take that shootin’-iron away from him.”
The dark scowl on Tom’s face and the determined manner in which he spoke satisfied me that he was very much in earnest, and I thought it might prove a dangerous piece of business for Luke Redman or any of his boys to lay violent hands on him; but to my surprise he gave up his gun without the least show of resistance, and permitted the Dragoons to tie his hands behind his back.
195He shook his head threateningly, and kept up a rapid talking during the whole proceeding; and I knew that if ever the opportunity was offered, Luke Redman would suffer for his treachery.
“Thar,” said the robber, “that job’s done, and now we will start on ag’in. But you must be blindfolded first, ’cause we’re goin’ to take you to a place that no man, ’cept them b’longin’ to our crowd, ever looked at.”
As he said this, he took from his pocket a dirty red handkerchief, and tied it over my eyes so tightly that not a ray of light could reach them.
After a few seconds’ delay, during which he was doubtless performing the same operation for Tom, I was lifted from my feet and laid away in the boat, as if I had been a sack of corn, and in a minute or two more I heard the measured dip of paddles and felt the gentle motion of the little vessel as it sped rapidly down the bayou. During the journey, which occupied the better part of the forenoon, no one spoke, and Tom and I were left to the companionship of our own thoughts.
196That those of my fellow-prisoner were not of the most agreeable nature was evident from the continuous muttering he kept up and the uneasy manner in which he rolled about on the bottom of the canoe.
My own reflections were far from pleasant, for, aside from the pain occasioned by the cramped position I was compelled to occupy, my mind was kept in a state of anxiety and suspense that was little short of positive torture.
I tried to think as little as possible about myself, and kept my brain busy with other matters.
What had induced Tom Mason to become connected with this band of outlaws? How did it come that Pete and his half-breed companions were associated with them? Where was Luke Redman taking me? and would he really drown me in the bayou if he were not left in quiet possession of the eight thousand dollars?
Such questions as these, I say, occupied my mind during the journey down the bayou; but I could not find a satisfactory answer to a single one of them.
197About noon my reflections were interrupted by the sudden stopping of the canoe, and a movement among my captors which told me that our voyage was ended.
I was lifted out and placed upon the bank, my feet were unbound, and, supported by Luke Redman on one side and Barney on the other, I was led along what appeared to be a bridle-path running through the woods.
In about ten minutes we reached a house; a door was pushed open, and I was conducted across a floor and up a flight of creaking stairs, at the top of which my captors stopped long enough to unlock a second door, which led into a room that I soon found was to serve as my prison.
“Here you are!” said Luke Redman, pulling out his knife and cutting the ropes with which my hands were confined; “an’ here you’ll stay till I get ready to leave the country. Don’t go to raisin’ any fuss, now; ’cause if you do, I’ll send my boys up here with their rawhides.”
The door closed as the outlaw’s voice ceased, and a key grated harshly in the lock. I listened 198a moment to the retreating footsteps, and then tore the handkerchief from my eyes.
I might as well have kept them covered, however, for they were not of the slightest use in the intense darkness which filled my prison. I could not see my hand before me; and not daring to move about the apartments for fear of running against something, I seated myself on the floor, to think over my situation and wonder what was going to happen next.
Just then I heard a slight grating noise, close at my elbow, such as might have been made by pushing a heavy board across the floor.
This continued for a few seconds, and then little rays of light began to stream into the room from an opening which suddenly appeared in the wall.
I was now enabled to make an examination of my prison. I swept one hasty glance around it, and saw that it was about ten feet square, that there was not a single article of furniture in it, and that the walls, floor and ceiling were formed of heavy oak planks.
When I had noted these things, I looked toward the opening again, and found that it 199had increased in size sufficiently to admit the head and shoulders of Tom Mason, who gazed all about the room, then rubbed his eyes and looked again.
I was not glad to see him, and wondered what he might want there. If he intended to revenge himself on me for knocking him down, he would have a lively time of it, for I was not bound now.
“Joe,” said he, in a scarcely audible whisper.
“Why do you call me that?” I asked. “Didn’t you tell Barney that my name was Mark?”
“I did; but I knew better all the time.”
“Well, that is as much as I care to hear from you. Don’t you dare come in here.”
“I know you despise me, Joe, and I don’t wonder at it; but if you will trust me this once, you will never be sorry for it. I am going to leave these fellows this very afternoon; and if you will go with me, and stick to me, we can take my uncle’s money with us, and Black Bess, too.”
I began to listen more attentively when I 200heard this. As Tom had got me into this scrape, I saw no reason why he should not get me out of it, if he could. The only question in my mind was whether or not I could place any dependence on him.
He must have been able to read my thoughts, for he hastened to say:
“I don’t blame you for doubting me, Joe, but as sure as I am a prisoner here, like yourself, I have no intention of trying to deceive you. I am going to get you out of the hands of these outlaws, whether you are willing or not. If you won’t go with me, I will go alone; and when I find the settlers, I will guide them straight to this place.”
“How can you do it?” I asked. “You came here blindfolded, didn’t you?”
“Yes; but it was like locking the stable-door after the horse is stolen, I have been here many a time, and I know this house like a book.”
“But these people are your friends, are they not? Why do you turn against them?”
“Do you ask me that after what you heard to-day? Luke Redman went back on me completely, 201and I should be something more or less than human if I didn’t want to get even with him for that. I’d like to see him keep me here an hour longer than I want to stay. Who do you suppose stole my uncle’s money?” asked Tom, suddenly.
“Mr. Redman, of course.”
“Well, he didn’t. I stole it.”
“Tom Mason!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t talk so loud, or you’ll bring Barney up here. It is a fact, I am sorry to say, and the reason I took it was because I wanted to get Jerry Lamar into trouble. In the first place, I intended to keep you and all your friends in hot water, if I could. I found plenty of ways in which to bother you, such as stealing your boat, robbing your traps and shooting at your dogs, but I did not know what to do to Jerry, for he never went hunting and owned nothing worth stealing. I happened to be up the bayou, duck-shooting, on the morning on which uncle visited Mr. Lamar’s house. I saw the valise in the skiff, and knowing what it contained, I thought it would be a good plan to take it out and hide it. I 202did so. I paddled across the bayou, took the money, and paddled back again, without being seen, either by my uncle or Mr. Lamar. Jerry was suspected of the theft, as I knew he would be, and would have been sent to prison, if it had not been for your brother Mark.”
Tom paused, and I sat looking at him without speaking. Bad as I knew him to be, I had never dreamed that he could descend low enough to perpetrate an act like this.
His confession revealed a depth of depravity that Luke Redman himself would have been ashamed of; and when I thought how narrowly Jerry had escaped being the victim of his cowardly vindictiveness, I had half a mind to pull him through the window into my prison, and give him the worst drubbing he ever had in his life.
I believe I should have done something to him, had I not at that moment heard a step on the stairs.
“Somebody’s coming,” whispered Tom. “I have more to tell you, if you have the patience 203to listen to it, and will see you again directly.”
As he said this, he drew back from the window and pushed the board to its place, leaving me in total darkness.
When Tom had disappeared, I settled back on my elbow, and listened to the approaching footsteps, which slowly mounted the creaking stairs and stopped at my door. A key turned in the lock, the light of a lantern streamed into the room, and Barney and Jake Redman entered, one carrying a plate filled with corn-bread and bacon, and the other holding a bundle of blankets under his arm.
“Wal, my young feller,” said Barney, with an awkward attempt to appear good-natured and patronizing, “how do you feel about this time? Tired, hungry an’ sleepy, I reckon. We’ve brought you a bite of somethin’, an’ a blanket to lay down on. You’d best do some good eatin’ an’ sleepin’ while you are about it, ’cause we’ve got a long ways to ride to-night.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
205“That’s somethin’ fur you to find out. You’ll know soon enough.”
With this assurance, the Dragoons deposited the lantern, blankets and plate on the floor, and went out, locking the door after them.
In a few minutes the sound of voices coming from the adjoining room told me that they had gone in to pay Tom a visit.
I had been very sleepy previous to my interview with my fellow-prisoner, but that had worn off now, although I was as hungry as ever. I did ample justice to the bountiful dinner with which Barney had provided me, and when he came in after the lantern, I had emptied the plate, and lay stretched out on the blankets, which I had spread upon the floor.
The leader of the Dragoons showed a disposition to linger and enter into conversation—a proceeding to which I was strongly opposed. I was impatient to be rid of his presence, in order that I might see Tom Mason again, and, as I gave only short, crusty answers to his questions, and pretended to be very sleepy, Barney finally gave it up in disgust, and took his leave.
206The sound of his footsteps had scarcely died away on the stairs, when the board which concealed the opening in the wall was cautiously pushed aside, and Tom once more appeared, his jaws working rapidly, and his hands filled with corn-bread and bacon.
I looked at him closely, and could easily see that something had made a great change in him. The impudent, defiant expression his face usually wore had disappeared, and he looked melancholy and down-hearted, as though he had lost the last friend he had in the world.
He did not wait for me to speak, but began the conversation himself.
“When Barney came up I was relating how I obtained possession of the money, wasn’t I?” said he. "I told you that I crossed the bayou with it without being seen by either my uncle or Mr. Lamar. I was seen by somebody else, however, and by the very one, of all others, I had the most reason to fear; for as I sat looking at the valise, after I had pushed my canoe out of sight among the bushes, and wondering what I should do with it now that I had got it, 207I happened to raise my eyes, and, to my utter amazement, discovered a skiff not more than ten feet from me. In the skiff was Luke Redman, who stood leaning on his gun, and looking at me with an exultant smile on his face.
"I was certain that he had been watching me, that he had seen me take the money, and the very first words he uttered confirmed the suspicion. ‘Wal, my young chap, I’ve ketched you,’ said he—‘ketched you in the very act, too. This will be a nice story for me to tell in the settlement, won’t it?’
" "When I heard this last remark, I for the first time began to realize what I had done. It flashed upon me in an instant that my plan for ruining Jerry Lamar was likely to ruin me, also. In order to satisfy a senseless grudge against a boy who never did me the least harm in his life, I had broken the law, and rendered myself liable to the severest punishment.
" "I did not speak—I could not, so great was my bewilderment and alarm—neither did Luke Redman. He sat down on one of the thwarts, 208and looked earnestly into the water, while I stared blankly at him, wondering what was to be the end of the matter. At length a bright idea struck the man. He brought his clinched hand heavily down upon his knee, and looking up, said, with a chuckle:
" "‘Yes, sir; I’ve ketched you in the very act of stealin’ your uncle’s money. Do you know what they do with fellers who commit robbery?’ ‘I have committed no robbery,’ I replied. ‘I am going to take the money back. I only wanted to scare him.’
" "‘That story won’t go down—not by no means,’ said Luke Redman, with another laugh. ‘It’s a mighty nice way you have got of doin’ business, hain’t it, now? You steal a carpet-sack full of yellow-boys, an’ when you are ketched at it, say you are goin’ to take it back, an’ that you only wanted to scare your uncle! Who’s fool enough to b’lieve such a tale as that ar’? Thar’s only one way you can get out of this scrape, an’ that is—Halloo! what’s a-goin’ on over thar?’ 209“I heard loud voices at this moment, and looking through the bushes toward the opposite bank of the bayou, found that my plan for being revenged on Jerry was beginning to work much sooner than I had anticipated. I saw my uncle take him by the collar and walk him into the skiff, heard Jerry beg to know what he had done, and saw the despairing expression his face wore as he picked up the oars in obedience to my uncle’s command, and pulled down the bayou.” “That’s the time you ought to have bestirred yourself,” said I, worked up to the highest pitch of indignation by Tom’s recital. “Why didn’t you have the moral courage to undo the wrong you had done? Could you sit there and see an innocent boy punished? Why did you not pull out into the bayou and tell your uncle that you had the valise?” “Oh, yes! It is all very well for those who have never been guilty of any serious offense to prate about moral courage,” sneered Tom. “There isn’t a boy in the world who knows my uncle who would dare face him after doing a deed like that. Would you? I’ll bet you 210wouldn’t. He would have turned me out of house and home. I don’t know that I should be in any worse situation than I am now,” added Tom, reflectively, for of course I can’t go back to the settlement after what I have done.
" "As I was saying, I sat there in my canoe, and saw Jerry and my uncle go down the bayou toward the village. When they had passed out of sight, Luke Redman said: ‘It’s too late to give the money back now, even if you meant to do it—which I know you didn’t—an’ the best thing for you will be to turn it over to me.’
" "‘Turn it over to you!’ I echoed, amazed at the proposition. ‘Sartin. I’ll take care on it for you. That’s the only way you can get out of this trouble.’
" "‘Well, I’ll see you in Guinea first,’ I replied. ‘I can take care of it myself.’ ‘No, you can’t, an’ you shan’t, nuther!’ exclaimed Luke Redman, with as much authority as though the money had been his own private property. ‘I’ve ketched you in a 211scrape that’ll send you to State’s prison fur the best years of your life, an’ if you want me to keep my mouth shet, you mustn’t put on no flourishes, ’cause I won’t stand it! I’ll take the money, an’ when things have quieted down a little, me an’ my family’ll emigrate. We’ll go to Texas, an’ stay thar. We’ll say nothing to nobody about this yer business, an’ no one need know that you had a hand in it. If you won’t agree to that, I’ll go straight to the settlement, an’ tell your uncle that he has got the wrong buck by the horn, an’ that you are the guilty chap, an’ not Jerry. What do you say to that, my lad?’
" "I did not say any thing; for I was so utterly confounded that I could not speak. Luke Redman must have taken my silence for consent; for he lifted the valise out of my canoe, and, after stowing it away in the stern of his skiff, pulled off through the swamp, and I never made an effort to detain him. I must have sat there for hours, gazing fixedly at the spot where I had last seen his boat among the trees, hoping and half believing that the events of the afternoon were a terrible 212dream, from which I would awake to find myself as I was before—an honest boy, if not a good one. It was only by a strong effort that I aroused myself. I returned by a circuitous route to the place where I had left my horse, and throwing myself into the saddle, rode about until nearly midnight, starting at every sound, and almost certain that every tree I passed concealed some one who would spring out and arrest me.
"“When I first discovered you and your friends coming down the road, on your way to the village to visit Jerry, I nearly fell off my horse with fright. I knew it looked suspicious for me to sneak off into the bushes, but I could not help it—I could not face you.”
“You showed your guilt as plainly as daylight,” I observed. “There was not one among our fellows who was not willing to declare that you knew more about that money than any one else.”
“I can not begin to tell you what a miserable night I passed,” continued Tom. "My uncle 213repeatedly declared in my hearing that he knew Jerry to be the guilty one, but that did not allay my fears in the least. The real facts of the case might leak out somewhere before morning—there were a thousand ways in which they might become known—and then what would he think of me? Above all, what would he do?
"I never once closed my eyes in sleep, and early the next morning I set out for the swamp, to visit my evil genius. He and his boys were the only friends I had now, and, somehow, I felt easier in their company than any where else. I believed that I must keep close to them, to prevent them from telling some one of my secrets. I was glad to learn that Luke Redman intended to start for Louisiana immediately, and was sorry he had not gone hours before. I was angry, too, when I found that he was going alone, and urged him to take his whole family and clear out, bag and baggage, and never return; but he said it would look suspicious if they all went together, and I was obliged to submit to the arrangements he had made.
"214"It was Luke Redman’s intention to go down the bayou to the river in his skiff, and the Swamp Dragoons and I were so anxious to see him off that we accompanied him on horseback.
"He would have succeeded in making his escape, had it not been for that accident at Dead Man’s Elbow. Although he had two oars, and was a good boatman, he allowed himself to be brought within the influence of the current that ran toward the cavern. His skiff was overturned, and the only thing that saved him from destruction was the tree that stood on the edge of the falls. When your brother came down, I concealed myself in the bushes, and kept out of his sight. I saw all that happened there that afternoon, and when Mark swam over the falls, I jumped on my horse with the others, and did my best to overtake him; but he gave us the slip somehow, and we went back and worked for six long hours to get Luke Redman out of that tree, and to obtain possession of the valise.
" "We accomplished both undertakings at last, and fearing that the settlement had been aroused, and that the river would be closely 215guarded, we came back to this place; and while the settlers were searching all over the country for Luke Redman, he was concealed in this very house, I visiting him regularly, and keeping him posted in all that was going on. Two days ago, Barney took a skiff down the bayou to the river, and hid it where his father could find it; and yesterday Luke Redman made another attempt to leave the state. This time he rode your horse, trusting to her speed to bring him out of any scrape he might get into.
" "He had a lively time dodging the men in the cane-brakes, and finally you fellows discovered and captured him. Barney and I saw you while you were taking him through the swamp, and we hurried home, got the rest of the fellows, and Pete and his crowd, and rescued him.
"“You see, I knew it would prove a serious thing for me if he were taken to the settlement. He would be brought before the squire, and, of course, during his examination he would tell how he came by the money, which would be a bad thing for me.”
216“But, Tom,” said I, “didn’t you know all the while that the part you have taken in this miserable business would become known sooner or later?”
“Yes, I did; I couldn’t help knowing it, but I wanted to keep it hidden as long as I could. I stuck to Luke Redman, and helped him by every means in my power, until he told me that I was a prisoner, and at that moment he made an enemy of me. He must look out for his own bacon now. I know what his plans are, and I’ll ruin them if I can, no matter what happens to myself. I’ll teach him a thing or two before I am done with him.”
Tom shook his head threateningly as he said this, and brought his fist down into the palm of his hand with a report like that of a pistol.
“There are one or two other things I should like to have you explain, Tom,” said I, after a little pause. “Who stole Black Bess?”
“That is another act which you can lay to my charge,” replied my fellow prisoner. “I knew by the way you fellows looked and acted that day that it would be well for me to keep as far as possible out of your reach, so after I landed from the canoe, fearing that you might jump on your horses and follow me, I slipped around to your camp and stole the mare. I brought her to this house and left her here, and Luke Redman has been riding her ever since. He says she is the swiftest thing in the shape of a horse he ever saw, and he is going to take her to Texas with him.”
“He shan’t do it,” said I. “I’ll follow him 218wherever he goes, and take her away from him. She is my own private property, and I’ll not give her up to any body. Do you know who burned our cotton gin?”
“Yes, Pete is the man. He did it to be revenged on your brother for setting his dogs on him. By the way, don’t let him put his hands on you if you can help it. He thinks you are Mark, and if he gets half a chance, he’ll thrash you within an inch of your life. Among us all we have kept the settlement in an uproar for the last few weeks, haven’t we? Barney and I have been at the bottom of almost every thing that has happened, and I am sorry enough for it now. If any one had told me two months ago that I should ever come to this, I would not have believed him. I have made an outlaw of myself. I can’t call any living person my friend—not even my uncle, for he will never forgive me for what I have done. If I could live over the last year of my life, I’ll bet you I would have a very different record to show. My first care would be to keep out of bad company. That is what has brought me where I am.”
219For along time after this neither of us spoke. Tom looked down at the floor, and I looked at him. He was thinking over his past life, and I was wondering what the future had in store for him. I had at first been utterly amazed when I found how low he had fallen, but I was not so now. Knowing the life he had led for a long time past, it was unreasonable to expect any thing else. One can not handle coals without getting his hands black, and the longer the coals are handled the blacker the hands become.
When Tom first began to associate with the Swamp Dragoons, one year ago, he would have been greatly alarmed at the bare thought that he would ever become so depraved as to commit a robbery. This state of things had not been brought about in a moment—it was the work of months. One mean act led to a second a little worse, another and another followed, and now he was an outcast from home, and utterly friendless, for even Luke Redman and the Swamp Dragoons had deserted him. He was learning by experience that the way of the transgressor is always hard, and I did not wonder that the future looked dark to him.
220“You can’t imagine how heartily I always despised Duke Hampton,” said Tom, suddenly. “I hated the very sight of him, and now I would give all I ever hope to possess if I could be in his place. Every one thinks so much of him. There is not a man, woman or child in the settlement who does not put the most implicit faith in his word, or one who would believe any thing mean of him.”
“And Duke deserves every particle of the confidence that is placed in him,” said I.
“I know it. He never tries to build himself up by pulling others down, and he is much too honorable and manly to say any thing behind your back that he wouldn’t care to say to your face. If you should tell him a secret, he wouldn’t lisp it to the best friend he has in the world. And he is honest, too. Whenever you find a boy like that, you find one that every body likes—except, perhaps, some fool like me whom no one on earth cares for. Now then, I am going to get away from here. I’ll first make amends for my misdeeds, as far as lies in my power, and then I’ll go off where no one knows me and begin again. If there is any 221good in me, it must come out. I’ll make a man of myself yet, and, in order to do it, I’ll follow Duke Hampton’s example as nearly as I can.”
‘A wrong confessed is half redressed,’ you know, said I. “Why don’t you go home and tell your uncle just what you have told me? I would, if I were in your place.”
“Don’t ask me to do that, Joe,” said Tom, decidedly. “I may come back here one of these days, but I can’t think of staying now. Could I look any body in the face after what I have done? Could you? But let’s talk about something else. Our enemies must be asleep by this time, and if we are going to get away from here, we must be about it.”
“Why, we are not going to make an attempt to escape in broad daylight, are we?”
“Certainly we are; and the sooner we get to work, the better it will be for us. Luke Redman intends to start for the river as soon as it grows dark, and, what is more, he is going to take us with him. If we once begin that journey, we’ll have no chance to get away, for he will tie us hard and fast. It’s now or never. Come 222in here, Joe, and let us take a look at things.”
In accordance with this request, I crawled through the opening into Tom’s prison, and found that, in size and appearance, it was like my own, with this simple difference: There was a window on one side of it, and I was surprised to see that it was not secured with either bars or a shutter.
“I don’t call this much of a jail,” said I. “What is there to hinder you from climbing out of that window whenever you choose? I can’t imagine why Luke Redman confined you here.”
“He didn’t intend to confine me,” replied Tom. “He only wanted to punish me for talking back to him. When Barney came up with my dinner, he told me that the reason his father had put me in this apartment was, that I might keep a watch over you. If you began rummaging about, and discovered the opening between the two rooms, I was to grab you and alarm the house. You see, Luke Redman knew that you and I were not on the best of terms, and thought I would do all in my power to 223prevent your escape. He imagines, too, that I will stay just where he has a mind to put me, and obey any orders he sees fit to issue; but I will show him that he has reckoned without his host.”
As Tom ceased speaking, I thrust my head out of the window to take a survey of the situation.
I found that the house stood in the center of a dense cane-brake, and that it was built close against the side of a perpendicular bluff. There was something peculiar in its construction that attracted my attention at once. It was an ordinary log cabin, containing probably not more than one room below, but the roof, instead of rising to a peak, sloped back from the front of the building, the after end of the rafters resting against the side of the cliff.
I noticed, too, that, although the rafters extended as high as the top of our prison, they did not cover it; consequently, the rooms could not have been in the house, but in the bluff. I wondered at this, and looked toward Tom for an explanation.
“It was a freak of Luke Redman’s,” said 224he. “It is no uncommon thing for him to be obliged to conceal himself for a month or two; and in order that he might have a safe harboring-place, he built this house, which is situated on an island in a part of the swamp that no one ever visits, not even hunters. Not satisfied with this, he dug a hole in the hill, and walled it up with planks to keep it from caving in. It is an excellent place of concealment, for even if any of his enemies should find the house, they might ransack it from top to bottom without discovering these two rooms.”
“But they could see this window,” I suggested.
“Not from the ground,” replied Tom. “This grape-vine covers it completely. We can see out, but no one can see in.”
I looked out again to complete the examination I had begun, and to calculate our chances for escape. The first things I noticed were several horses, my own and mother’s among the number, hitched to trees a short distance from the house. They were all saddled, and the bridles were slipped over their heads, showing 225that although Luke Redman and his followers fancied themselves perfectly secure in their hidden fortress, they had not neglected to make preparations for a hasty flight. A little further on, Pete and his companions, who had brought the horses to the island by some roundabout way, lay stretched out on their blankets around a smoldering camp-fire, sleeping soundly after their hard ride of the previous night. A pack of bloodhounds, probably eighteen or twenty of them in all, lay curled up in the sun directly in front of the open door of the cabin, from which there issued a chorus of terrific snores, telling me that the robber and his young confederates were also slumbering heavily.
I took in all these things at a glance, and my hopes fell to zero. If it were dark, we might possibly succeed in making our escape; but how could we lower ourselves from that window in broad daylight, walk past the hounds, and go into the house among those sleeping desperadoes—for that we would certainly be obliged to do if we expected to take the money with us—and, lastly, secure possession 226of our horses and make off with them, without arousing somebody?
“Tom,” said I, “your plan won’t work at all. It is positively foolhardy. I believe I would rather stay here than run the risk of being torn in pieces by those hounds.”
“I haven’t yet told you what my plan is,” replied Tom. “Those dogs will not trouble you. They all know me, and I can go where I please about the house, and they will not even look at me.”
“But they would follow your trail if they were put on it,” said I.
“Of course they would, and eat me up when they caught me. That’s their nature. But I do not intend to give them the chance. I don’t ask you to run any risks. We will lower ourselves out of the window by the grape-vine, and you can stand at the foot of the bluff while I do the work. I’ll go into the cabin and pass out the money to you, and also a couple of guns; for I’ll tell you what’s a fact, Joe,” added Tom, with emphasis, “if I once get that valise in my hands, I’ll never surrender it. I’ll send it back to my uncle, where it belongs. 227When we have secured the gold and weapons, we will start for our horses. We need not stop to put the bridles on them, you know; we can ride them without. Once fairly in the saddle, we can laugh at any thing in the shape of horseflesh they can bring against us.”
“And at the hounds, too,” said I.
Tom’s enthusiasm must have been contagious, for almost before I knew it, I found myself entering heartily into the spirit of his plans. They were desperate, I knew, and the chances for carrying them out were small indeed; but even that had a charm for me. If we failed, we could not be in a much worse situation than we were now; and if we succeeded, Black Bess and the eight thousand dollars were the prizes we would carry away with us.
“If the dogs follow us, we can shoot them, you know,” I added.
“Certainly we can; and what’s more, we will. Will you stick to me and never flinch?”
“You may depend upon it.”
Tom seemed satisfied with this assurance, for without saying another word he crawled into the window, grasped the grape-vine, and 228quickly disappeared from my view. While he was lowering himself to the ground, I kept a good lookout, dividing my attention between the hounds and the Indians at the camp-fire, and listening for any unusual sounds in the cabin; but Tom accomplished the descent without disturbing any one, and I crept out of the window and followed him.
In a few seconds I was standing by his side at the foot of the bluff, and he was pulling off his boots, preparatory to entering the house.
“I stand in more fear of the Indians than any thing else,” he whispered, with a hasty glance toward the camp-fire. “Their ears are sharper than a hound’s, and, asleep or awake, they always keep them open. Have an eye on them, and if you see one of them move, give one short, quick whistle.”
I was really amazed at the calmness with which Tom spoke, and the coolness and deliberation with which he acted. If I had been going into that cabin among Luke Redman and his boys, I should have felt a good deal of excitement and uneasiness; and, what is more, 229I should have shown it; but my companion did not.
With the exception of a reckless glitter in his eye, and a resolute scowl on his forehead, he was to all appearances the everyday Tom Mason. What a pity it was, I thought, that he had not devoted himself to his books, and spent less time in studying up plans for mischief. Such an undaunted spirit, such a determination to overcome obstacles, if exhibited in the line of study, or in any other laudable direction, would have raised him to a high place among his fellows.
While I was moralizing, Tom nodded his head at me as if bidding me good-by, and with a step that would not have awakened a cricket, moved toward the house. One of the hounds must have scented him—he certainly did not hear him—for he raised his head, gazed at Tom a moment with a pair of sleepy-looking eyes, and was about to lie down again when he discovered me.
His brute’s instinct must have told him that there was something wrong, for he straightened up and uttered an angry growl, which aroused 230all the other dogs at once. I thought it was all over with us, and that our discovery was inevitable; but Tom was equal to the emergency.
“Keep still, you rascals!” he exclaimed, in a savage whisper. “Be off with you! Clear out!”
The hounds had seen Tom so often that they had probably learned to look upon him as one of their masters, for when he stooped suddenly as if to pick up something with which to enforce his commands, they all scrambled to their feet and slunk away into the cane-brake.
Having disposed of the dogs, Tom stepped cautiously into the house, and I moved up as near the door as I dared, to take the guns as he passed them out, not forgetting meanwhile to keep my eye on the Indians, as he had directed.
Once I ventured to look in at the door, and when I saw the sight the inside of the cabin presented, I wondered that Tom’s heart did not fail him. There were no beds in the room, and the forms of Luke Redman and his boys were scattered over the floor in such positions that Tom was obliged to step over one or two of them in order to reach the guns, which I saw were stacked in the furthest corner of the cabin, with the powder-flasks and shot-pouches belonging to them hanging from their muzzles. Luke, looking like a giant among pigmies, lay 232stretched out on his blanket in the middle of the floor, one powerful arm thrown over his head, and the other passed through the handles of the valise, which he had hugged close to his side.
This was a most discouraging sight. I thought the money might as well have been locked up in some iron safe.
Tom, who had not failed to make the best use of his eyes, quickly discovered that he had something of a task before him, but I could see that he was not disheartened by it. The frown on his face deepened, and a determined expression settled about his mouth. He placed his hand on one of the guns, and then turned to look at Luke, as if thinking up some plan to secure the valise, when a powder-flask, loosened from its fastening, fell with a loud noise on the floor.
“What’s that ar?” growled Barney, raising himself on his elbow so suddenly that I was almost ready to believe that he had been merely feigning sleep on purpose to be ready to catch Tom.
He rubbed his eyes as he gazed stupidly about the room, and I, knowing that I could 233not stir without attracting his attention, remained perfectly motionless. Tom dropped on the instant, and, with a quickness that was astonishing, stretched himself at full length on the floor. If Barney saw him at all, he probably thought he was one of his companions.
The leader of the Dragoons was too sleepy to spend much time or energy in investigating the cause of the disturbance. He yawned once or twice, and, reaching out his hand, took a gourd from a nail over his head, dipped it into a bucket of water that stood close by, and while he was drinking, I could have vowed that his eyes were fastened squarely on my face.
I stood just outside the door, in plain sight, and how it happened that he did not discover me, I can not tell; but it was very evident that he did not, for when he had satisfied his thirst, he returned the gourd to its nail, rolled over on his blanket, and, with one arm under his head for a pillow, speedily went off into the land of dreams again.
For full five minutes my companion in the corner remained so motionless that he scarcely seemed to breathe. At the end of that time a 234faint snore coming from Barney’s direction mingled with the others, and that must have satisfied Tom that the danger was passed, for in a second he was on his feet again.
He at once turned his attention to the guns, and to my surprise, instead of selecting two of the weapons, he began to load himself down with them. When he had collected all he could carry, he stepped cautiously over the prostrate forms and came out of the cabin.
“Joe,” he whispered excitedly, as I accompanied him toward the grape-vine at the foot of the bluff, “I have just thought of something grand. Those fellows may wake up and pursue us before we can reach a place of safety; and wouldn’t it be a good plan to take all their guns away from them?”
“It would, indeed,” I replied; “but you will have to make two or three trips to bring them.”
“Oh, I can carry them all at one more load, and then I’ll go back for that money.”
“Tom, you had better give that up,” said I. “You will only put yourself in danger for 235nothing, for you can’t get that valise without waking Luke Redman.”
“Can’t I? Well, I’ll show you that I can. I know just how to do it. Now, Joe, while I am gone you had better pick out two guns—be sure and get the best—and hide the others under this grape-vine. They’ll never think of looking for them there.”
Tom went into the house again, and I hastened to carry out his suggestions. As the Indians had left their guns in the cabin with the others, I found my own double-barrel among those Tom had brought out, and also Sandy’s, of both of which I took possession.
After slinging the powder-flasks and shot-pouches which belonged to them over my shoulder, I dropped the ramrods into the weapons, and found that they contained more than five fingers of a load. They were heavily charged with buckshot, which would be just the thing for knocking over those fierce bloodhounds, if they were put on our trail.
I then proceeded to conceal the other guns among the leaves and bushes about the root of the grape-vine; and while thus engaged, it 236struck me that it would be a good plan to put it out of the power of our enemies to use the weapons, even if they found them. This I conceived to be a bright idea, and I carried it out by emptying the contents of the shot-bags and powder-flasks upon the ground, those I carried over my shoulder of course excepted.
By the time this had been done, Tom appeared with another armful of guns.
“Those fellows are the soundest sleepers I ever saw,” he whispered. “I’d like to be introduced to the man or boy who could fool about my bed that way without arousing me, even if I had been in the saddle all night. Now, put those shooting-irons out of sight somewhere, and watch me get that valise. Keep the guns you have selected in your hands, and also my boots, so that we can be ready to start for the horses the instant I come out.”
Tom moved off again, and I remained behind to hide the guns he had last brought out. This done I glanced toward the camp-fire, to make sure that the Indians were still asleep, and then crept to the door of the cabin and looked 237in. Tom was kneeling on the floor beside Luke Redman, and when I caught sight of him, he was in the act of drawing from his pocket a huge clasp-knife, which he opened with his teeth. He made two quick passes with the keen blade, and the handles of the valise fell apart.
That much was done, and now came the most difficult part of the whole operation. Tom had no doubt thought over all the details of his plan; for after shutting up the knife and putting it into his pocket, he seized the valise with both hands, and slowly and cautiously raised it from the floor. The sinewy arm that clasped it slipped easily over its glossy leathern surface, and presently rested at full length on the blanket, while Tom lifted his prize above his head in triumph.
Our luck, which had thus far been all that we could have desired, now began to change. The robber suddenly stirred in his sleep, and probably from the force of habit, threw out his arm as if to embrace some object. He expected, no doubt, to feel the weight of the valise, but his arm passed through the empty air and fell 238upon the floor again. This aroused him at once. Opening his eyes and discovering Tom kneeling at his side, he comprehended the situation in an instant.
“Hallo, here!” he shouted, in his stentorian voice; “drop that ar’ carpet-sack.”
As quick as thought, Tom started to his feet, and made an effort to leap over the robber; but it so happened that the latter arose to a sitting posture at the same moment, and this brought his head and Tom’s feet in violent contact. The result was that one fell heavily back upon his blanket, while the other flew headlong through the air and out at the door as if he had been thrown from a catapult. It was plain that Luke Redman had the worst of it, for he lay motionless where he had fallen, while Tom, who had clung manfully to the valise, was on his feet again almost as soon as he touched the ground.
“Now, Joe, we’ve got work before us,” said he, hurriedly. “We can’t get our horses, and consequently we must trust to our heels.”
While Tom was putting on his boots—I never saw a boy get into a pair in less time 239than he did on that occasion—I looked toward the camp-fire and saw that he was right when he said that we must abandon the idea of escaping by the aid of our horses. The Indians had been awakened by Luke Redman’s voice, and were hurrying toward us. In order to reach our nags, we would be obliged to pass directly through their ranks, and that was something we were not foolish enough to attempt.
“Give me one of the guns, Joe, and keep close behind me,” said Tom, who seemed to know just what ought to be done. “Watch the dogs, and don’t let them come too close.”
The Swamp Dragoons, who had been aroused by this time, were not long in finding out what was going on. Some of them hurried to the corner where they had left their guns, while Barney thrust his head out of the door and shouted for his hounds.
“Hi! hi!” he yelled. “Take ’em, you rascals! Here, Nero! here, Growler!”
Tom and I were not standing idle all this while. The instant he was fairly into his boots we commenced our flight; but although 240we made the very best use of our legs, we did not reach the cane in time to escape discovery by the hounds. They were quick to respond to the calls of their master. A hoarse yelp sounded behind us, and looking over my shoulder, I saw the dogs advancing in a body, Growler and Nero leading the way.
I have always thought that, next to a hunting-horn, there is no music in the world equal to that of a pack of staunch hounds in full cry, nor a prettier sight to be seen than they present while flying over the ground, almost with the rapidity of thought.
How the deep-toned bays echo and re-echo through the woods, until it seems as if the bushes were fairly alive with the excited animal! How easily they bound along, and how your heart swells within you, as you sit on your good horse, with your trusty double-barrel in your hands, waiting for the game to break cover!
This is grand and inspiring under certain circumstances; but if you are the hunted instead of the hunter, and those hounds are on your track, and you have nothing but a couple 242of loads of buckshot and your own lightness of foot to depend upon, the case is very different. There is not so much music in their baying then, by any means, and you do not see any thing about them to admire.
I trembled with alarm as I gazed back at the savage brutes. Their long bounds were rapidly lessening the distance between us, and I saw that it was high time I was doing something. Raising my gun to my shoulder, I fired with both barrels in quick succession, and when the smoke cleared away, I saw that there were four hounds less in that pack.
Growler and Nero, the ones at which I had aimed, were lying on the ground, stone dead, and two others were badly wounded.
Luke Redman and his boys yelled with rage when they witnessed the effect of my shots, and shouted after us threats that made my blood run cold.
“Never mind them!” exclaimed Tom, snatching the empty gun and handing me the other. “Keep it up. Show them that we are in earnest.”
The hounds were thrown into great confusion 243by the havoc the buckshot made in their ranks, and I knew that they would not again take up their trail until urged on by their masters.
I leveled my gun a second time, but now the muzzle was turned toward Pete and his companions, who were rushing recklessly forward, expecting, no doubt, to capture us very easily. They stopped when they found themselves confronted by the double-barrel, and Pete began shouting some orders in his native tongue to his followers, who turned and ran back to their horses.
We did not wait to see what they were going to do, for, having by this time reached the cane-brake, we dashed into it, and quickly left our enemies out of sight.
Have you ever seen a cane-brake? If you have not, I am afraid I can give you but a poor idea of one. Imagine, if you can, a tract of country covered with ordinary fishing-rods, such as you city boys buy in the variety stores, at a shilling apiece, standing as closely together as the hair on a dog’s back, and growing to the height of twelve and fourteen feet.
244If you can imagine this, you will know pretty nearly how a cane-brake looks; but you can not understand what an excellent hiding-place it is. One might walk by within two feet without discovering you; and more than that, he could not follow the trail you made in going in, for, as fast as you pass the cane, it closes up behind you.
The one in which we had taken refuge, did not cover more than a dozen acres; and yet, had it not been for the hounds, Luke Redman and his whole gang might have searched for us during the rest of the week, and they would never have found us.
“Now, Joe,” whispered Tom, as he began to load the gun I had fired at the hounds, “I have another foolhardy plan to propose. We’ll watch our chance to get back to the house, and climb up the grape-vine to our prison again. What do you think of it?”
“I think I won’t do it,” I replied, completely astounded at the proposition. “We might as well have stayed there in the first place.”
“Oh, no!” replied my companion. “We 245are much better off now than we were before, because we’ve got the money, and a couple of guns with which to defend ourselves if we are crowded to the wall.”
“Well, I am safe out of there now, and I’ll never go back if I can help it. That’s the most stupid plan I ever heard of.”
“I can convince you in less than a minute that it will be the very best thing we can do,” said Tom, confidently. “We are not going to stay here in the cane, to be hunted down like a couple of wolves that have been robbing a sheep-pen; and if we attempt to leave the island, we shall give the dogs a fair chance at us. The woods on the other side of the bayou are open, and there’s no cane to hide in. Listen! Those fellows have just found out that their guns are gone.”
If that was the case, they must have been very angry over the discovery, for such an uproar I never heard before. Luke Redman was shouting out some orders, to which no one seemed to pay the least attention; the Indians were talking loudly with one another; the uninjured hounds kept up a furious barking, 246and the wounded ones joined in the chorus with continuous yelps and growls.
Although we could not see our enemies, our ears told us just what was going on.
“Silence!” roared Luke Redman, at length. “If you don’t hush up that noise—the hull on you—I’ll knock some o’ you down. Barney, kick half a dozen of them dogs. Jump into your saddles, an’ ride fur the bayou as fast as your horses can carry you. If they have crossed to the mainland, it’s all right; we’ll ketch ’em easy. If they haven’t, they are still in this cane-brake, an’ it won’t take us long to hunt ’em out. If Tommy thinks he is goin’ to slip off with that ar’ carpet-sack, he’ll be the wust-fooled boy you ever seed.”
Before Luke had ceased speaking, the sound of horses’ hoofs came to our ears, telling us that some of his followers were starting out to obey his commands.
The whole gang rode rapidly down the path by which Tom and I had been conducted to the house, and which ran through the cane not more than twenty feet from our hiding-place. In a few minutes more they were galloping 247up and down the bayou, searching for our trail.
“We had better be moving now,” said Tom, shouldering his gun, and picking up the valise. “They’ll soon find out that we have not crossed the bayou, and then they’ll be back. The house is the safest place for us.”
Since Tom first proposed this plan I had been thinking it over, and was now ready to agree to it.
As things stood there was but one way to leave the island, and that was to cross to the opposite side, and swim the bayou. We might thus succeed in getting the start of our enemies by half a mile or more; but what would that amount to while they were on horse-back and we on foot? As Tom had said, the woods on the main land were open; there was no cane to hide in, and the dogs could see us a long distance. There were still a dozen or more of these savage brutes in the pack, and although we might dispose of half of them by a volley from our double-barrels, the others would be upon us before we could load again.
If we returned to our prison, we could barricade 248the doors, and bid defiance to Luke Redman and his gang. Our friends would certainly reach the island before dark—we had no fears but that they could follow our trail, in spite of the robber’s efforts to throw them off the scent, and we could hold our enemies at bay until they arrived.
I thought that a much better plan than running a race through the woods with a pack of hounds, and when Tom started for the house, I followed him.
We reached the edge of the cane-brake in a few minutes, and there we stopped to reconnoiter.
There was not a man, dog, or even a horse in sight; and having satisfied ourselves on this point, we sprang out of our concealment, and ran toward the cabin.
Tom led the way up the grape-vine, carrying the valise in his teeth. I followed close behind him, with both guns slung over my shoulder, and presently we found ourselves safe in our prison again.
“I call this a masterly piece of strategy,” panted Tom, drawing his coat-sleeve across his forehead. “It will take them a long time to find out where we are, and delay will serve us as well as any thing else. All we want is to keep out of their clutches until the settlers arrive.”
250The first business in hand was to fasten the doors, which was easily done. There happened to be several short pieces of plank in Tom’s prison, and from these we selected two which answered our purpose admirably. By putting one end under the locks and bracing the other end against the floor, we secured both doors so effectually that, as long as the locks remained in their places, no power that could be applied on the outside could force them open.
There was but one way in which our enemies could effect an entrance, and that was by cutting down the doors; but we did not think they would be reckless enough to attempt that in the face of our double-barrels.
After we had fastened the doors, Tom sat down on the floor to rest after his exertions, and I stood at the window, awaiting the return of Luke Redman and his friends.
The sound of voices, which came faintly to my ears, told me that they were still searching for our trail along the bank of the bayou, and during the next ten minutes they passed all around the island.
251By that time they must have been satisfied that we were still in the cane-brake, for they came back to the house in a body, the dogs leading the way.
Luke Redman, whose face was white with rage and excitement, rode directly to the door of the cabin and dismounted to put the hounds on our trail.
“Hunt ’em up!” he shouted, running his hand along the ground and waving it in the direction of our supposed hiding-place. “Hunt ’em up! Be off with you!”
The dogs were willing enough to follow our trail, now that they were encouraged by the voice and presence of their masters. They quickly took up the scent, and ran yelping toward the cane-brake, with the horsemen close at their heels.
For a few moments their music grew fainter and fainter, and then began to increase in volume. Presently they reappeared, still followed by the horsemen, and ran straight to the foot of the grape-vine.
I began to tremble now, but Tom was as cool as a cucumber.
252“Wal, I never did see sich fools of dogs in all my born days,” exclaimed Barney, as the hounds looked up at the window, and began barking furiously. “They’ve follered the back track.”
“That’s jest what they’ve done,” said Luke Redman, in great disgust. “If I had my gun in my hands, I would shoot the last blessed one on ’em. Any body with half sense could tell that them boys wouldn’t come back here an’ go up into them rooms arter they were onct safe out of ’em. Call ’em away, an’ put ’em on the trail ag’in.”
This was easier said than done. The hounds understood their business much better than Barney, and they positively refused to yield obedience to his commands.
They knew they had treed their game, and, if they were capable of thinking at all, were doubtless wondering why their master did not make an effort to secure it. Even Luke Redman’s voice had no effect upon them; and, becoming highly enraged at last, he threw himself from his horse, and falling upon them with his rawhide, sent them yelping right and left.
253“Thar, dog-gone you!” he shouted, “cl’ar yourselves! I’ll never trust none on you ag’in. Barney,” he added, suddenly, a bright idea striking him, “s’pose you an’ Jake run up stairs an’ look into them rooms. ’Twont do no harm, although I know the boys hain’t thar.”
Barney and his brother disappeared in the house, and presently we heard them coming up the stairs. They went to the door of my prison first, and were plainly very much surprised when it refused to open for them. They turned the key several times, to make sure that they had unlocked it, and pushed with all their might, but with no better success than before. Then they tried the other door, but found it equally well secured.
They kept up a chorus of questions and ejaculations all the while, and Tom and I stood leaning on our guns, smiling complacently at one another, and wondering how the matter would end.
The two Dragoons must have become suspicious at last, for they sunk their voices to a whisper, and after holding a short consultation, Barney cried out, in an excited tone: 254“Pap! I say, pap! Dog-gone my buttons, here they be!”
Our faces lengthened out very suddenly when we heard this.
Things began to get exciting now. Barney’s announcement must have occasioned great surprise among the outlaw crew below.
The loud conversation they had kept up ceased instantly, and after a moment’s pause, Luke Redman said:
“I reckon you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, Barney.”
“Not if I know myself, I hain’t,” answered the leader of the Swamp Dragoons. “Something’s the matter with these yere doors, ’cause they won’t open.”
Luke Redman, greatly astonished at this piece of news, rushed into the house and came up the stairs half a dozen steps at a time. He seized the key, turned it in the lock, and threw all his ponderous weight against the door, but it did not give an inch. The other was equally obstinate; and after a few ineffectual attempts to force an entrance, the robber stooped down and looked through the key-hole. He did not 255see any thing, however, for Tom and I were wise enough to keep out of sight.
“Thar ain’t nobody in thar,” said he, “but I reckon I know how the matter stands. They fastened the door afore they left. Barney, you go down an’ climb up that grape-vine, an’ look in an’ see if they didn’t.”
“Wal, now, jest hold your breath till I go, will you?” replied Barney. “When you see me foolin’ with them two fellers, you’ll see a weasel asleep. They’ve got guns. I hain’t a-goin’ to stir a step.”
“You’re a coward!” exclaimed his father, angrily. “If the grape-vine would b’ar my weight, I would go myself; but it won’t. Jake, are you a coward, too?”
“No, I hain’t,” replied that worthy. “I’ll go, ’cause I know they ain’t thar.”
Luke Redman and his boys descended the stairs, and, looking out of the window again, we saw Jake pull off his coat and begin the ascent of the grape-vine.
“What is to be done now?” I asked, with some uneasiness. “It won’t be safe to allow him to come up here.”
256“Oh, yes, let him come on,” replied Tom. “We’ll go into the other room, and if he comes in there, we’ll see that he don’t get out again in a hurry. You know we are working for time now, and it makes little difference what we do.”
Tom, as usual, carried his point. We watched Jake until he had ascended almost within reach of us, and then retreating into my prison, crouched one on each side of the opening, and waited for him to make his appearance.
We heard the grape-vine rustling against the side of the cliff, and presently Jake’s head and shoulders darkened the window.
He panted loudly with the violence of his exertions, and after a little delay, during which he was doubtless looking all about the room, he sang out: “Wal, consarn it all!”
“What’s to do?” asked Luke Redman from below.
“Why, they’ve got a plank fast agin’ the door, an’ that’s why we couldn’t open it,” answered Jake. “But thar ain’t nobody here.”
257“Go through into the other room,” said his father.
This command was followed by a long pause on Jake’s part, during which he was probably trying to make up his mind whether or not it would be quite safe for him to push his investigations any further, and then we heard him climb slowly down from the window and walk across the creaking floor. He stopped every few feet, and was so long in coming that we began to believe he had concluded to turn back; but presently he placed his hands against the partition and thrust his head slowly and cautiously, inch by inch, into the opening.
It was much darker in this room than in the other, and for a moment his eyes were of but little use to him; but they gradually became accustomed to the gloom, and Jake, whose face was turned away from me and toward Tom, began to think he saw something.
“What’s this yere?” he muttered, thrusting out his hand to examine the object which had attracted his attention, and which was nothing more nor less than Tom Mason’s head. “Looks like somebody!”
258He was not long in finding out that it was somebody; for Tom seized his wrists in a vise-like grasp, and at the same instant I caught him by the collar.
“Human natur’!” yelled Jake, terrified almost beyond measure by the suddenness of our assault. “Help! help! Here they be, pap! Turn loose, consarn it all!”
Did you ever try to hold an eel? I have, and know that it is an exceedingly difficult thing to do, but not more difficult than to hold Jake Redman. Whether he was stronger than both of us, or fear lent him additional power of muscle, I do not know, but, at any rate, in less time than it takes to tell it, he slipped out of Tom’s hold, tore away from me, leaving a portion of his collar in my grasp, and with two jumps reached the window.
We dived through the openings, one after the other, and followed him with all possible speed, but he was much too nimble for us.
He threw himself from the window, and must have dropped to the ground, for when we looked out he was standing among his companions, holding both hands to his head, which he had 259bumped pretty severely during his descent, and looking up at the window as if he could not quite understand what had happened. His pale face showed that he had sustained something of a fright.
“What’s the matter of you?” demanded Luke Redman, as soon as he had recovered from his astonishment. “Seed a ghost?”
“No; but I’ve seed them fellers. They’re up thar, as sure as you’re a foot high.”
“I don’t b’lieve it,” cried Barney.
“No odds to me whether you do or not,” replied Jake. “I know it’s so, ’cause I seed ’em and felt ’em grab me. Pap, if you’ll take an ax an’ chop down one of them doors, you’ll find ’em an’ your money, too.”
Luke Redman thought this a suggestion worth acting upon. He disappeared in the house, followed by the boys, who could scarcely find words with which to express their amazement. They understood now why their hounds had followed the back track, and wondered at the stupidity we had exhibited in returning to our prison after once escaping from it.
This much we gathered from their conversation, 260every word of which we heard distinctly.
Do you believe you can tell by the way a man walks whether or not he is angry? I have thought I could; and any one who had heard Luke Redman coming up those stairs would have known that he was almost boiling over with fury.
He came thundering along as though he were shod with iron. Arriving at our door, he pounded upon it with some heavy implement—the ax, probably—and called out:
“Hay, Tommy, and you, Mark, open this door to onct. Hear me, don’t you?”
Of course we heard him—we could have distinctly heard every word he uttered if we had been standing on the other side of the island—but it was no part of our plan to reply to him. Our object was to delay his operations by every means in our power.
“You needn’t try to pull the wool over my eyes by keepin’ so still,” he continued, in a very savage tone, “’cause I know you are thar, an’ I jest ain’t a-goin’ to stand no foolin’. This is the last time I shall speak to you. If 261you don’t open this door, I’ll cut it down, snake you both out by the neck, an’ give you the wust whoppin’ you ever heern tell on. Hear me, don’t you?”
Still no response.
Tom stood with his hands clasped over the muzzle of his gun and his eyes fixed upon the plank which secured the door, while I was watching the hinges, and waiting to see them driven from their fastenings by blows from the ax.
For fully a minute the robber crew stood listening for an answer. At the end of that time Luke Redman’s patience was all exhausted, and, without more ado, he lifted the ax, and the door began to shake and bend under the heavy blows that were showered upon it.
It was time to speak now, and Tom was wide awake.
“Hold on out there!” he shouted.
“Ah ha!” exclaimed Luke, “you’ve found your tongue at last, have you? You heern what I said, I reckon. What do you think about it?”
“I don’t think any thing,” replied Tom, 262coolly, “but I know something. If you strike that door again with that ax, I’ll send a charge of buckshot among you. What do you think of that?”
These words were spoken in a most determined tone, and we knew by the sudden silence which followed them that they had not been without their effect upon the outlaw and his gang.
Tom held himself in readiness to carry out his threat, and I am sure he would have done it, had it been necessary; but fortunately it was not. Luke Redman stood as much in fear of buckshot as we did of his hounds. He said a few words in a whisper to his boys, and then walked slowly down the stairs and out of the house, where he stood foaming with rage, and swinging his ax about in a way that made all his companions keep at a respectful distance.
Tom thrust his gun out of the window, and pushed the branches of the grape-vine aside, so that Luke could see him.
“I wish I had my shootin’-iron in my hands,” said Luke Redman, glaring up at us with a most fiendish expression of countenance. 263“I’d put a load into you as soon as I’d look at you.”
“Oh, you’re joking!” replied Tom.
“Come down from thar!” shouted the man, shaking his ax at us, “If I get my hands on you, I’ll—I’ll—”
He finished the sentence with an oath.
“If angry, count fifty before you speak; if very angry, count a hundred,” said my companion, in a tone of voice that must have aggravated Luke to the very last degree. “That’s good advice, and I suggest that you act upon it; but whatever you do, skip those hard words. Don’t swear. Take breath, and begin again. Didn’t I tell you that I would be even with you for the little tricks you have played upon me? You see I have the money,” he added, holding the valise up to the view of the outlaw crew. “It has been in your possession for the last time. I am going to send it back to my uncle.”
“I’ll bet a hoss you don’t!” retorted Luke, his face brightening as if he had discovered a way out of the difficulty. “I’ll give you jest one more chance. If you will give up the 264money, you can go off about your business, an’ nobody shan’t trouble you; if you won’t do that, I’ll fetch you down from thar in a way you don’t think of. Let’s hear from you.”
“Now, friend Redman, do you see any thing so very green in our eyes?” asked Tom, in reply. “You surely do not imagine that we will put ourselves in your clutches again, do you? We are a trifle too sharp for that. If it’s all the same to you, we’ll stay here.”
“Wal, you shan’t stay thar, nuther,” roared Luke. “Do you know how I’ll get you outen thar? I’ll burn you out, that’s what I’ll do. It won’t be no trouble in the world to set fire to this cabin. The wind blows your way, an’ it’ll soon get so hot up thar that you’ll be glad to come out. What do you say now?”
“Yes, sir,” said Luke Redman, who seemed to grow more and more elated the longer he thought of his new idea, “that’s the way I’ll bring you down from thar. Now, will you give up the money? I promise that you can go whar you please, an’ nobody shan’t bother you.”
“What’s the promise of a man like you worth?” I inquired. “I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw a church-house.”
“Take your time, an’ think it over,” said Luke; “but b’ar one thing in mind while you are about it, an’ that is, that I mean all I say.”
There was no doubt about that. Luke Redman was a desperate character, and money would tempt him to any deed of atrocity.
We stepped back from the window and 266looked at one another in blank amazement. I knew my face was pale, for the blood went rushing back upon my heart, and set it to beating like a trip-hammer. Tom was as white as a sheet, and that added to my terror. He had shown himself to be possessed of a remarkable degree of courage, and I knew that when he became frightened, there was good reason for it.
We were in a terrible predicament. If we remained in our prison, we would certainly lose our lives, and if we surrendered ourselves into the hands of our enemies, we would fare but little better, for they were almost beside themselves with fury, and we could expect nothing but the severest treatment. Seventy blows with a rawhide would be a light punishment, compared with the vengeance they would wreak upon us.
“Well, Tom,” said I, “this is the end of your plan.”
“It looks like it,” he answered, “and of us too. We have our choice between burning up and allowing ourselves to be pounded to death. This is infinitely worse than running a race 267with the hounds. Which horn of the dilemma shall we take, Joe?”
“Let’s stay where we are, and trust to luck,” I replied, desperately. “Something may turn up in our favor. The logs in the house may prove too green to burn, or the settlers may arrive before the fire gets fairly started.”
“That’s a fact. We’ll risk it, anyhow.”
“Hear me up thar, don’t you?” shouted Luke Redman, who had grown tired of waiting for an answer to his question. “What are you goin’ to do about it?”
“Bring on your kindling-wood,” was Tom’s reply. “We’ll stay here.”
“Wal!” shouted Luke, who seemed utterly confounded at the decision we had made. “Do you want to stay thar an’ be burned up?”
“Go and find the shavings, Barney,” shouted Tom. “Hunt up the matches, Jake. Set the old thing a-going, and let’s have a bonfire. Hurrah for the Fourth of July! You’ll find us the pluckiest cubs you ever tried to smoke out.”
“I’ll see how much pluck you have got,” retorted Luke, “an’ if I don’t make you sick of 268your bargain afore you are many minutes older, I’m a Dutchman! I’ll bet you’ll be glad enough to come out o’ thar.”
Luke had no doubt imagined that we could be easily frightened into compliance with his wishes, and, as a sailor would say, he was “taken all aback” by our answer.
It was some time before he recovered himself; but rage got the better of his astonishment at last, and, without saying a word, he beckoned to his boys, and went into the house.
They were gone about ten minutes, and when they came out again, they carried their blankets and a few other articles of value under their arms, and the expression on their faces told us what they had done.
“The kindlin’ wood is found, an’ so be the matches,” said Luke Redman, with a fiendish grin. “The bonfire will be goin’ directly, ’cause them logs is dry, an’ will burn like tinder. Better come out o’ thar.”
Tom and I looked down at the cabin, and saw a thin wreath of smoke come curling out. It increased in volume every moment, and was finally followed by a sheet of flame. Then we 269heard a great roaring and crackling below us, and the planks in the door began to feel hot to the touch. The house was really on fire.
“You see that I am not foolin’ with you, I reckon,” said Luke. “You may know that I am bound to have that money, if I am willing to burn my house to get it. Do you guess you’ll have pluck enough to stand it?”
“Do you guess you have pluck enough to stand before the buckshot in these guns?” asked Tom. “We have seen enough of you, and you had better dig out. We’ll give you just a minute to clear the ground, and if there’s one of you in sight at the end of that time, he’ll get hurt. Hear me, don’t you?”
Tom cocked his gun as he said this, and rested the weapon on the window-sill, the muzzle pointed down at Luke Redman’s breast.
That worthy stepped out of range very quickly, and gazed after his boys, who, taking Tom at his word, whistled to the dogs, and made the best of their way into the cane.
“You had better go, too, Luke,” said my companion. “Time’s almost up.”
He turned the muzzle toward the outlaw 270again, and the latter, beginning to see very plainly he was in a dangerous neighborhood, followed after the boys, and quickly disappeared from our view.
“I had an object in sending them away,” exclaimed Tom. “Don’t you see that the smoke from the fire is settling toward the ground? When it gets thick enough to conceal our movements, we’ll drop down from this window, and take to our heels. I know it is a desperate plan, but we are not going to stay here and be roasted.”
During all this time the fire had been gathering rapid headway, and now great sheets of flame began to shoot toward the sky, and dense volumes of smoke rolled past the window. It gradually filled our prison, too, and before many minutes passed, we could see the flames shining through the cracks in the door.
And this was not the worst of it. Luke Redman and his boys must have suspected the plan we had determined upon, for as soon as the smoke concealed the window, they came out of their hiding-places, and the sound of their voices told us that they had stationed 271themselves at the foot of the cliff, to cut off our escape.
Our situation was becoming really alarming. The smoke filled our prison until we could scarcely breathe; the air was hot and almost stifling; the perspiration rolled down our faces in streams; and thin tongues of flame began to appear under the door.
It required the exercise of all the courage I possessed to stand there inactive, but my companion had shown so much generalship that I knew it was best to be governed by his movements.
At last even he could endure it no longer, for when the roof of the cabin fell in with a crash, and the sparks arose in thick clouds, and the door of our prison, which had been smoking for the last five minutes, suddenly burst into a mass of flame, Tom began to bestir himself.
“Our last hope is gone,” said he. “Here it is almost dark, and the settlers have not yet arrived. We can’t stay here any longer,” he added, as a portion of the door fell down, giving us a view of the roaring mass of flames 272below. “Climb out of the window, Joe, and the instant you touch the ground, run for your life. We can do no good now by sticking together, and each one must look out for himself.”
At this moment a noise at the opposite end of the room attracted my attention—a grating noise, as if a board was being pushed along the wall. We both heard it, and our first thought was that Luke Redman was attempting a flank movement on us through some entrance to our prison, the existence of which we had never suspected. We knew that there was some one near us, but the smoke was so thick we could not see who it was.
“Keep perfectly quiet,” said Tom, in a suppressed whisper. “There’s a chance for us yet. The minute he gets in here, we’ll make a rush for that secret passage-way.”
“Merciful heavens!” exclaimed a familiar voice, in low and cautious tones, as if fearful of being overheard, “he is not here.”
I stood like a boy petrified. It was certainly my brother who spoke; but it seemed so impossible that he should be there, and that he 273should enter our place of retreat in that unexpected manner, that for a moment I was unwilling to believe the evidence of my ears.
“We’re too late,” said the voice. “What in the world is to be done now?”
“Mark!” I cried, so overjoyed that I could scarcely speak plainly.
There was no response in words; but I heard a step on the floor, and some one came bounding through the smoke and clasped me in an affectionate embrace.
It was really my brother Mark; and in order that you may understand by what means he effected an entrance into our prison, and how he happened to arrive just in time to be of service to us, I must interrupt the thread of my story for a few minutes.
I have told you that after the battle at the camp on Black Bayou our fellows frustrated the attempts of Luke Redman and his gang to capture them, by throwing themselves on their horses. They had suffered severely at the hands of the attacking party, for they had been resolved to prevent the rescue of the outlaw, and to save the eight thousand dollars, if 274within the bounds of possibility. As long as they saw the least chance for success, they did not think of retreat. They stood their ground bravely, fighting with reckless determination, and it was only when they saw that the Swamp Dragoons were assisted by Pete and his followers, that they lost heart and saved themselves by flight.
Sandy and Mark had been most unmercifully pummeled by the heavy switches with which every one of the attacking party was armed, especially the former. He held fast to Luke until the last moment, and even succeeded in placing him upon a horse, but was obliged to abandon him at last in order to save himself.
That they were not all captured was probably owing to the fact that my brother carried his double-barrel in his hands. The sight of the weapon restrained the ardor of the robber crew, who, after they had rescued Luke Redman, allowed Mark and his companions to mount their horses and ride off without making any very determined effort to seize them.
When our fellows had placed a safe distance 275between themselves and the enemy, the foremost ones waited for those behind to come up, and then they found for the first time that I was missing. That occasioned them but little uneasiness, however; for, knowing that I had been standing guard at the time the attack was made, they supposed that I had been allowed an opportunity to escape, and that I had improved it. I would certainly turn up all right before morning, and there was no need that they should stop to look for me.
Their first hard work must be to alarm the settlers, and the sooner this was done the more certainty there was of capturing Luke and recovering the eight thousand dollars.
They kept their horses in a rapid gallop, and the five miles that lay between them and the settlement were quickly accomplished. When they reached the end of the lane that led from the swamp, Sandy turned toward his own home, Duke and Herbert kept on to theirs, and Mark, leaping his horse over the bars, dismounted at the porch and rushed into the house to arouse father.
During the next hour and a half the country 276for two or three miles around was in great commotion. Mounted messengers galloped in all directions, stopping at every house to alarm the inmates, hunting horns sounded, guns were fired, all the hounds in the settlement kept up continuous baying, and now and then squads of armed men dashed along the road and turned down the lane that led to the swamp.
Mark, who had thrown himself upon the kitchen floor in front of a blazing fire, snored through it all, and about daylight awoke to find that father had gone off with the rest of the settlers, without thinking to awaken him.
“Now, this is a nice way to treat a fellow, isn’t it?” growled Mark, greatly disappointed. “They will find and capture those villains, and I’ll never have a hand in it at all. I think some one might have called me.”
“Here is a warm breakfast waiting for you, and you will find a fresh horse, saddled and bridled, standing at the door,” said mother. “There are three inches of snow on the ground, and you will have no difficulty in following the settlers’ trail.”
Mark, somewhat mollified by this, walked 277out on the porch to take a look at the horse that had been provided for him.
As he came out the door, he discovered some one standing near the bars; but the instant he caught sight of him, he sprang behind a thicket of bushes as if anxious to escape observation.
Mark’s suspicions were aroused in an instant. He jumped off the porch, and running around the bushes, found himself standing face to face with Jim, the young wrestler.
“Hello, Jim,” exclaimed Mark, “you are just the chap I have been looking for! Now I will show you what a white boy can do in the way of giving a rascally Indian a good beating.”
Expecting to meet with a most stubborn resistance, Mark’s attack was furious and determined, indeed; but to his great surprise, the young savage raised his arms above his head, and suffered himself to be thrown to the ground without even a show of opposition.
“No hurt! no hurt, white boy!” he exclaimed, excitedly. “Me no Jim—me Mark; me Mark Two Times.”
Mark, who grew more and more astonished, and who was above striking an unresisting foe, released his hold on the Indian’s throat, and the latter began a long speech, talking very 279rapidly and sometimes in his eagerness forgetting the little English he knew, and jabbering away in his native tongue.
But Mark understood the most of what he said, and after listening to him a short time, he helped him to his feet, brushed off the mud that adhered to his hunting shirt, and drawing the Indian’s arm through his own, led him toward the house, talking to him all the while in the most friendly manner.
What had brought about this sudden change in Mark’s feelings toward the young savage? I will explain it in my own way, without inflicting Jim’s broken English upon you.
I do not know that the custom exists among other Indians, but the Choctaws had a habit of naming themselves. If they met a white man whom they greatly liked, they adopted his name, discarding the one by which they had formerly been known. This was a sure sign of friendship, and the man thus honored could trust his namesake to any extent.
Jim admired the courage Mark exhibited on the day he stood his ground against Pete and his friends, and out of compliment to him, he 280had dropped his own name and assumed the title of “Mark the Second,” or, as he expressed it, “Mark Two Times.”
Of course, Mark was highly flattered by this show of respect, but believing, with a good many others in the settlement, that there was nothing good in an Indian, he did not know how much dependence to place upon his new ally.
“You’re a grand rascal, Jim,” he began.
“Me no Jim; me Mark Two Times,” insisted the wrestler.
“Well then, Mark Two Times, I am afraid you are a slippery customer. If you are really a friend to our fellows, as you profess to be, how does it come that you assisted Luke Redman and his band during the fight at the camp? Explain that, if you can.”
The Indian could and did. He accounted for that act of seeming unfriendliness by saying that he had joined the attacking party for no other purpose than to learn their plans, and that as long as he remained in their company he was obliged to act with them, in order to avoid exciting their suspicions. While the 281Swamp Dragoons and their allies were taking up their positions preparatory to making the assault, he had watched and waited in vain for an opportunity to slip away from them, and warn us of our danger.
He then went on to say that after the fight Luke Redman had given him two letters—one to be left on General Mason’s doorstep, and the other on our own. He had delivered the first, but he had given it into the general’s own hands, and told him just where to go to find the robbers.
After that, he had come to our house and waited for an opportunity to speak to Mark; and the reason he had dodged behind the bushes was because his courage failed him at the last moment, and he feared that he might meet with a warmer reception than he had bargained for.
He wound up his story by telling Mark that I was a prisoner, and that if he would trust to his guidance, he would lead him by a short route to my place of confinement.
“Of course I will go with you,” said Mark, highly excited over this last piece of news; 282“but bear one thing in mind, and that is, if you attempt to come any of your Indian tricks over me, it will be worse for you.”
While Mark was conversing with the young savage, mother had twice appeared at the door and called him to breakfast—a summons that he could not now think of answering.
In the first place, he did not want to waste an instant of time, and another thing, he was afraid mother might ask him if Jim had brought any news concerning me; and as he did not care to alarm her by revealing the real facts of the case, he thought it best to keep out of her sight.
He crept carefully to the porch, unhitched his horse, and succeeded in leading the animal out of the yard without attracting the attention of any one in the house.
The young Indian was already in the saddle, and as soon as Mark came out, he led the way at a rapid gallop toward the swamp.
They passed the camp which had been the scene of the conflict, crossed the bayou at the ford about a mile above Dead Man’s Elbow, and at three o’clock in the afternoon drew rein 283within sight of the cane-brake in which Luke Redman’s hiding-place was situated, without having once been out of the saddle, or even stopping to rest.
During all this time Mark had kept a bright lookout for the settlers, but had not seen one of them.
“Now, white boy,” said the Indian, after carefully reconnoitering the ground before him, “no time for foolin’. Do just like me.”
Mark followed his guide’s instructions to the very letter. He dismounted when the Indian did, and after hitching his horse, followed close at his heels as he wormed his way through the cane, stepping exactly in his tracks, and imitating as nearly as possible his cautious, stealthy movements.
Presently they came to a halt on the bank of the bayou. The Indian looked up and down the stream several times, carefully scrutinizing every thicket within the range of his vision, to make sure that there was no one in sight, and then stepped into the water and struck out for the island, still closely followed by Mark, who held his gun and powder-flask above 284his head with one hand and swam with the other. When they reached the bank they plunged into the cane again, and in a few minutes more were crouching in a thicket of bushes at the foot of the bluff against which Luke Redman’s house was built.
“Now, white boy,” said Jim, “you stay here, and me go and look.”
The Indian glided out of sight as he spoke, and for the next half-hour Mark sat there in the bushes with his back against a tree and his double-barrel resting across his knees, awaiting his return.
As he had never been on the island before, he knew nothing of Luke Redman’s stronghold; but he did know that the outlaw and his gang were not a great way off, for he could hear the sound of their voices.
The angry tones which reached his ears told him that a heated discussion was going on—it was about this time that Luke Redman announced his determination to burn us out if we did not give up the money—and Mark listened intently, hoping to obtain some clew that would guide him in his search for me.
285Where was I? What sort of a situation was I in? and what could he do to help me? were the questions he was constantly asking himself, and which were answered in a way he had not dreamed of.
At length there was a lull in the conversation, which continued about fifteen minutes, and then Mark saw dense volumes of smoke rising above the cane. At the same moment he heard voices and a crashing in the bushes close by, and, looking in the direction from which the sound proceeded, he discovered Barney and his brother Jake coming up the bank of the bayou. They seemed to be very much interested in the conversation they were carrying on, and little dreaming that there was an enemy so near them, they walked straight to the foot of the bluff, and stopped in front of a cluster of bushes not more than ten feet from Mark’s hiding-place.
“Here we are,” said Barney, pushing aside the bushes and disclosing to view a dark opening which seemed to lead up into the cliff. “Now you stay here an’ watch, an’ if they come out, holler.”
286“What trick do you reckon them fellers is up to, anyhow?” asked Jake. “They ain’t a-goin’ to stay in them rooms and be burned up, be they?”
“In course not. They’ll be glad to come outen that winder when the fire gets too hot fur ’em, an’ then we’ll grab ’em.”
“Mebbe they know the way out by this hole,” said Jake, doubtfully. “I reckon you’d best stay, too, Barney.”
“One’s enough to watch here,” replied the leader of the Swamp Dragoons. “The rest of us will have to stand by that winder, ’cause they’ve got guns, you know. You needn’t be afeard, for they won’t come nigh you.”
Barney walked off, leaving his brother to watch the opening, while Mark crouched lower in his concealment, and thought over the conversation to which he had just listened.
He had heard enough to suggest to him a plan of action. He knew that I was in a house, that there was some one with me, that Luke Redman was going to drive us out by fire, and that there were two ways of escape for us—one by the window, which was guarded by all the 287robber gang, and the other by this secret passage-way, over which Jake alone stood sentry.
Mark inferred, from what Barney said, that I and my companion were ignorant of the existence of this last avenue of escape; but he knew of it, and couldn’t he put his knowledge to some use? Could he not secure Jake, or knock him over, and go into the passage-way and release us?
The idea was no sooner conceived than he proceeded to put it into practice. He arose slowly and cautiously to his feet, hoping to creep upon Jake unobserved; but a twig which snapped under his feet betrayed him.
The sentry turned on the instant, only to find himself covered by Mark’s double-barrel, which was aimed straight at his heart.
“Consarn it all, don’t!” cried Jake, turning as pale as death, and trembling in every limb. “Turn that we’pon t’other way, can’t you?”
“Silence!” commanded Mark. “If you speak above your breath again, you are a gone Dragoon.”
Just at this moment, when Mark was about 288to lay down his gun to secure his prisoner, help arrived.
A lithe, active figure, clad in buckskin, glided through the cane as easily and noiselessly as a serpent, and before the sentry knew that there was an enemy in his rear, the strong arms of “Mark Two Times” were clasped about him, and he was thrown to the ground.
It was an operation of no difficulty to bind him, for Jake, fearing the double-barrel, submitted without a word of remonstrance.
As soon as the prisoner was secured, the young Indian turned to Mark in great excitement. He had heard strange things and seen strange sights while he was skulking about the house.
He had seen Tom and me looking out of our prison and heard Luke Redman tell us that if we did not come down he would burn the house. He had seen him carry his threat into execution, and he knew that unless something turned up in our favor very speedily, our chances for life were small indeed.
It took him a long time to tell this, for, as was always the case with him when he became 289excited, he forgot his English and rattled away in Indian.
“I understand what you mean,” interrupted Mark. “I know that my brother is in great danger, and I think, too, that I know where to look for him. Jake, how long is this passage-way, and where does it lead to?”
“Now hold your grip till I tell you, won’t you?” growled Jake.
“You will tell me now—this very instant,” said Mark.
“Don’t!” exclaimed the frightened Dragoon, seeing that the double-barrel was once more pointed his way. “It’s about twenty yards long, an’ leads to the rooms whar them fellers is. Turn that shootin’-iron t’other way, can’t you?”
Mark did not stop to ask any more questions, because he believed he had heard all that it was necessary for him to know; and, besides, the light that now began to shine through the cane warned him that the fire was gaining headway, and that there was no time to be lost.
At a sign from him, the young Indian seized Jake by the shoulders while Mark raised his 290feet, and between them he was carried into the passage-way, where he was laid upon the floor, and left with the assurance that his safety depended upon his observing the strictest silence.
The passage-way was about three feet wide, and quite high enough to allow Mark and his companion to stand upright.
Luke Redman had doubtless built it in order that he might have a way of escape in case his hiding-place was discovered and surrounded by the settlers.
It was as dark as midnight, but perfectly straight, and as there were no others branching off from it, there was no danger that Mark would lose his way.
He hurried along with all possible speed, keeping his hands stretched out before him, and presently they came in contact with some obstruction, which blocked up the whole end of the passage-way.
Mark ran his fingers over it, and found that it was a wide oak plank, with a strap nailed to it. This he seized with both hands, and, after pulling it about in various ways, succeeded in 291forcing back the plank, disclosing to view the interior of our prison.
He was astonished and alarmed at the reception he met with. A thick cloud of smoke, through which the flames were shining brightly, rushed into his face, almost suffocating him and driving him back from the door.
He thought the room was on fire, and when he heard my voice, he bounded through the smoke, expecting to find me badly burned and almost smothered.
“Can you walk, Joe?” he asked, speaking with the greatest difficulty. “If you can, follow me. You here, Tom Mason?”
Mark’s clinched hand was drawn back, and in a moment more Tom would have measured his length on the floor, had I not interposed.
“No violence,” said I. “Tom has stuck to me like a brother, and you owe him thanks instead of blows.”
I knew by the expression on Mark’s face that he could not understand the matter at all. He did not stop to ask questions, however, but led us at once to the entrance to the passage-way.
292When we reached it, it was my turn to be astonished, for there stood the young wrestler. He did not draw back as we approached, and neither did my brother seize him, as I expected he would.
On the contrary, the Indian extended his hand, and Mark took it to assist him in leaping through the opening. When we were all in the passage-way, and I had closed the door to shut out the smoke, we stopped to hold a consultation.
In order that Mark might understand how Tom happened to be my companion, I hurriedly recounted the various exciting incidents that had taken place during the afternoon, and Mark told us of his meeting with the Indian, and the manner in which he had secured the sentry.
We concluded that our best plan was to trust ourselves entirely to the guidance of the young wrestler; and this being communicated to him in a whisper, he conducted us toward the entrance to the passage-way. When we came within sight of it, we stopped, not a little amazed at the scene presented to our view.
THE prisoner, whom Mark had left securely bound, was standing in front of the mouth of the passage-way, trying to peer through the darkness that obscured it, and over his shoulder we could see the faces of the rest of the Dragoons, and also the scowling visages of Luke Redman and Pete, the half-breed. The robber was angrier than ever, and was swearing loudly.
“It’s lucky I thought to send Barney around here, ain’t it?” we heard him say. “Them boys would have been out an’ gone in five minutes more. They’re smarter than the hull lot on us put together. What’s to be done?”
“Let’s hide in these yere bushes an’ ketch ’em when they come out,” suggested Barney. “Jake, s’pose you go in thar an’ lay down 294ag’in like you was tied, so they won’t know thar’s any thing wrong.”
“Wal, now, s’pose you go yourself,” retorted Jake. “You’re mighty willin’ to send other fellows into danger, hain’t you? None on us ain’t a-goin’ in thar to face the buckshot in them guns. Send the dogs in, pap; that’s the way to bring ’em out.”
Luke Redman was prompt to act upon this suggestion. He set up a shout, and in a few seconds the hounds appeared and crowded into the mouth of the passage-way; while Mark, Tom and I stationed ourselves side by side and cocked both barrels of our guns in readiness to give them a warm reception.
But we soon found that we had nothing to fear from them. They made the passage echo with their baying, and acted fiercely enough to tear a regiment of men in pieces, but not one of them could be induced to advance a single step beyond the opening.
Luke scolded, urged and threatened in vain. Becoming highly enraged at last, he jumped among them, and kicking right and left with his heavy boots, cleared the mouth of 295the passage as quickly as a volley from our double-barrels would have done.
Having disposed of the dogs, Luke stormed about at a great rate, shaking his fists in the air and stamping the ground with fury.
“We had oughter been on our way to the river long ago,” said he. “The hull settlement will be gallopin’ through these woods in less’n an hour, an’ if we’re here then, we’re booked for the lock-up, sure. But I ain’t a-goin’ to stir one step till I get that money. Call the dogs ag’in, Barney, an’ I’ll go in with ’em. I reckon they’ll foller me. What’s that ar’?”
As Luke Redman asked this question, the savage scowl vanished and his face grew white with terror. For a moment he and his companions stood as if they had been rooted to the ground, casting frightened glances through the cane on all sides of them, and then with a common impulse they scattered right and left, and were out of sight in a twinkling.
We were not long in finding out what had caused their alarm, for just then the clear, ringing blast of a hunting-horn echoed through the woods, followed by a chorus of the same 296kind of music, which, coming from all directions, told us that the island was surrounded. Hounds yelped, men shouted, the tramping of horses’ hoofs came faintly to our ears, and then five dogs, my own faithful Zip among the number, dashed past the mouth of the passage-way, closely followed by Sandy, Duke and Herbert.
“Hurrah!” we all shouted at once. “We’re safe now. The settlers have come at last.”
Mark and the young Indian sprang down the passage, and I was about to follow them when Tom laid his hand on my arm.
“Joe,” said he, “I will give this valise and gun into your care, and will thank you to see that they are restored to their owners. I know you will do this much for me, for it is the last favor I shall ask of you.”
I took the articles in question as Tom handed them to me, and when I raised my eyes to look at him, he was gone. He had jumped past me, dashed out of the passage, and disappeared into the bushes before I could say a word to him.
297I was not long in following him. Holding the guns over my shoulder with one hand, and grasping the valise with the other, I ran out into the cane just in time to place myself in the way of some swiftly moving body, which struck me with such force that I was whirled through the air as if I had been thrown from the cow-catcher of a locomotive. The guns flew out of my hand, but involuntarily I tightened my grasp on the valise.
“Aha!” exclaimed a gruff voice; “things is comin’ out all right, arter all. The money is mine an’ so is the mar’.”
Almost as soon as I touched the ground, I raised myself on my elbow, and when I had taken a single glance at the horse standing before me, I comprehended the situation.
It was Black Bess, and the man who was dismounting from her was Luke Redman.
He had by some means succeeded in securing the horse and eluding the settlers, and was riding at full speed through the cane, when I had run directly in his path and been knocked down—a circumstance which the outlaw regarded 298as favorable to himself, although it turned out exactly the reverse.
He probably imagined that I was badly injured by the hard fall I had received, and he must have been astonished at the determined resistance he met with when he rushed up to me and attempted to take the valise out of my hand.
I have no idea how long the struggle continued, for my brain was in a great whirl, and I took no note of time. All I knew was that I must hold fast to that money.
I was dragged about through the cane, beaten on the head by Luke Redman’s hard fist, and when at last he tore the valise from my grasp, I threw my arms about his legs and pitched him headlong on the ground.
Just as this happened, I heard a furious crashing in the cane, several dark objects bounded over me and commenced a desperate battle with my antagonist, cries of pain and ejaculations of surprise rang in my ears, and then all was blank to me. Some of the settlers, with their dogs, had arrived just in time.
It was dark when my consciousness returned. 299At first I did not know where I was or what was the matter with me, but gradually the remembrance of the scenes through which I had passed during the afternoon came back to me, and I started up in alarm, expecting to find myself once more a prisoner in the hands of the robber band.
A single look, however, was enough to satisfy me that I was among friends, and that I had nothing to fear. I was lying on a blanket in front of a blazing fire, and father and our fellows were stretched out on the ground beside me.
Camp-fires were shining in every direction among the trees, and around them reposed the stalwart forms of the settlers, all sleeping soundly after the fatigues of the day. A short distance off lay General Mason, with his valise under his head for a pillow, and a little further on stood Black Bess.
Under a tree, on the opposite side of the fire, lay every one of those who had belonged to the party which made the attack on our camp—Tom Mason excepted—securely bound, and watched over by two armed sentinels.
300There was no one stirring in the camp, and the silence was broken only by the crackling of the fires, the sighing of the wind through the leafless branches above our heads, and the low murmur of the conversation kept up by the guards.
The feeling of comfort and safety I experienced was refreshing, indeed, after my day of excitement. I lay for a long time thinking over my adventures, and looking through the trees toward the spot whereon had stood the robber’s stronghold, now reduced to a glowing bed of coals, and at last sank into a deep slumber.
The next morning I awoke to find that all our fellows were looked upon as heroes, and that the lion’s share of the honors had been accorded to me. All the planters wanted to hear my story, and during the ride homeward I had a crowd of eager listeners about me all the time.
Our prisoners were lodged in jail at three o’clock that afternoon, and at the next term of the court they were dealt with according to their deserts. Luke Redman’s plea, that he 301did not steal the money from General Mason, did not avail him. He had twice been caught with it in his possession, and that was enough for the jury who tried him; for he was sentenced to state’s prison for a long term of years, and the Swamp Dragoons, one and all, were sent to the Reform School.
There was evidence enough to convict Pete of setting fire to our cotton gin, and so Luke Redman had company when he went to prison. The rest of the half-breeds were ordered out of the country, and I think they went, for I never saw them afterward.
Taken altogether, it was a grand thinning out of rascals, and if no one else was glad of it, our fellows were.
“Mark Two Times” lost nothing by the services he rendered us. Father gave him a splendid horse; I sent to New Orleans, and bought him a silver-mounted rifle; Mark presented him with a gaudily-ornamented suit of buckskin; Duke gave him a couple of hounds; and, in fact, there was scarcely a person in the neighborhood who did not remember him in some way.
302And what became of Tom Mason? I gave the valise into the general’s hands, accompanied by a hint that Tom had gone off to seek his fortune, and that it would be a long time before any of us would see him again; and I never saw a man so delighted and angry as he was—delighted to have his money back, and angry to learn that Tom had repaid his kindness by running away.
“The gold is all here,” said he, as he ran his hand over the shining pieces, “but I see that some of them are wet. I don’t suppose you fellows had opportunity to steal any of them. And so Tom has run away? Dear me! but won’t he be sorry? If he comes to my house, I’ll shut the door in his face. I won’t have such an ingrate about.”
Every one supposed that General Mason was very angry at his nephew, as, indeed, he was, but in a week or two it became known that he had sent his overseer up and down the river to learn something of Tom’s whereabouts; but he came back and reported that he had followed him as far as Memphis, and there all traces of him had been lost. I tell 303you, I began to have some respect for Tom after that. He had only fifty dollars in his pocket that I knew anything about, and a boy that would start off with that amount of money and face the world had a good deal in him.
For a year nothing was heard of Tom Mason, and those who had business with the general noticed that he had got over a good deal of his “crankiness,” and that it was difficult to make him mad. Before that he used to fly off the handle without any cause whatever. Jerry Lamar was astonished at the general’s conduct, and well he might be. He and his father wanted to get off the place, for they did not want to live near a man who would accuse one of them of stealing five thousand dollars, but the general wouldn’t hear to it. He bought all their logs at good prices, and Jerry was in a fair way of making a man of himself. He began to pay more attention to General Mason, and often told us that he wished he had Tom where he could talk to him. He was certain that everything would be forgiven if Tom would only come back.
304Another year passed without bringing any word from the runaway, and it finally got noised abroad in the settlement that he was dead. The old gentleman heard it, and he bent over a little at the shoulders and walked with a cane. It was plain that he loved Tom, and that nobody else could take his place. Six months more passed—Tom had now been gone two years and a half—when one morning I saw General Mason coming down the road faster than I had ever seen him ride before. He held an open letter in his hand, and beckoned me out to the bars. I had seldom seen a man so excited. He was laughing and crying, all at once, so that I could hardly understand him.
“That miserable Tom is alive and kicking,” said he. “Here’s a letter from him that tells me everything he has been through—six pages of it. You must answer it, for I won’t. Write to him that if I had him here with a rawhide in my hand, I would make him shed tears to pay for all the agony he caused me, I bet you. Tell him, too, that everything has been forgotten and forgiven, and that if he will come 305back I will receive him with open arms. I’ll teach the young scamp to run away from me!”
I wrote to Tom that night, away in some little town in Texas, and in due time he came home. I tell you, it would have bothered anybody in that settlement to take the rawhide to him. He was immense; the climate of Texas seemed to have agreed with him. He had been—but it is a long story, and there isn’ place for it in this book. Besides, I must bid you good-bye as a story-teller, for I am through writing about Tom. I will turn my history of him over to a cowboy who was with him on the Plains and who knows all about him. He promises me that he will soon begin the narrative of his wanderings in a book to be called “Elam Storm the Wolfer; or, The Lost Nugget.”
The End