That night Patsy was awakened by a hand on her arm, an excited voice in
her ear.
“Patsy, Patsy!” whispered Anne. “Wake up! I’ve something to tell you.
Wake up and listen. I can’t wait till morning. Oh, Patsy! I know how we
are going to find out Dick’s secret!”
“What? How?” Patsy was wide awake at once.
“We’ve failed and failed; it did almost seem as if he could outdo us.
Oh, he would have held it over our heads the rest of our lives!”
“But how----” interrupted Patsy.
“We--it came to me in a flash--we are going to course him,” said Anne.
“Course him?” Patsy made the words an amazed question.
“As we did the bees,” Anne explained. “We’ll follow him as far as
we can see him; and then we’ll take up his course from that place
next time; and so on, till we get to Redville or the end of the
world--wherever he goes!”
“I don’t see how we’ll manage it,” said Patsy.
“Oh, yes you do! Or you will when I tell you from A, B, C to X, Y, Z,”
Anne exclaimed impatiently. “You see, Pats, we’ve got to watch him and
follow him.”
“We’ve tried that dozens of times,” was Patsy’s despondent interjection.
“Will you listen to me? I say we’ll follow him. He nearly always goes
by Larkland, to get a pigeon; then he comes back to the public road and
he goes up Jones’s hill. We know that, for we’ve followed him that far.
Well! Next time we see him getting ready to go, we’ll stroll to the
mill and stop, as if we just meant to visit Cousin Giles; then, while
Dick’s at Larkland, we’ll run along and hide in the pines where he gave
us the slip that first time. You remember?”
Patsy emphatically did.
“And then we’ll follow him. He’ll not be expecting us there, and we’ll
be careful to keep out of recognizing distance. If he gets away, we’ll
come back home and not let him know we followed him. And the next time,
we’ll race ahead and hide at the place where we lost sight of him, and
follow him from there.”
“Oh! I see!” said Patsy. “We are to course him just like the bees.”
“Oh! you see; at last!” laughed Anne. “Maybe we’ll find out the very
first time; or we may have to follow him again and again. Oh, it’ll be
lots and loads of fun!”
The girls were on tiptoe with impatience, and rejoiced mightily when
they saw Dick put a candle into his pocket the next Saturday afternoon.
They went at once to the mill; presently they saw him take the path
to Larkland, and they ran ahead and dived into the pine woods where
he had hidden on that well-remembered April day. Half an hour later,
Dick came whistling along the road, and they crept from their hiding
place and followed at a cautious distance for about three quarters of a
mile; then they lost sight of him at a turn of the Old Plank Road. Anne
stopped.
“Come on,” said Patsy, keen on pursuit. “There aren’t any paths here;
of course he went on down the road.”
“He may have turned off in the woods,” said Anne. “The thing to do is
to course him, follow him as far as we see him. Oh, it’s such fun!”
“It certainly is,” agreed Patsy. “We’ve followed him a long way. Why,
we’re over two miles from The Village. It’s out here somewhere in the
Big Woods that Solomon Gabe lives.”
“Oh! the old ‘cunjer’ darky the others are so afraid of?” asked Anne.
“Yes. And his son Cæsar is one of the deserters they’re looking for.
Oh, Anne! suppose we should walk up--zip, bang!--face to face with a
real deserter?”
“Nonsense! Everybody says those men went to New York or somewhere; they
wouldn’t dare come back here, where people know them. Now, Pats-pet,
next time Dick starts off, we’ll run ahead and come here and--oh,
Patsy! that clump of chinquapin bushes will make a splucious hiding
place.”
“If he sees us, we can just be looking for chinquapins. Anne, this was
a splendid plan of yours.”
“It certainly was,” agreed Anne. “Oh! I do hope next time we’ll get
there--wherever it is--and find out Dick’s secret.”
A few days later, they followed Dick again. He went toward Larkland,
and they hid in the chinquapin bushes as they had planned. And there
they stayed, weary hour after hour. No one passed except a negro man
who went slinking down the road.
“Anne,” whispered Patsy, “that man looks like--I believe it is--Cæsar!”
“Any darky you saw would look like Cæsar to you, now he’s a deserter,”
giggled Anne. “You don’t see anybody that looks like Dick, do you?”
“No; and don’t let’s wait any longer. We’re so crazy to find out about
Dick we’re getting to be real slackers in Red Cross and gardening.”
They “went by” Larkland, and there they found Dick, busy stretching
wire and driving staples, helping Cousin Mayo wire in a new pigeon cote.
The next Saturday was perfect outdoor weather, with blue skies and
crisp air that invited one to the gorgeous October woodlands. Early in
the afternoon, Anne, who was spending the day with Alice Blair, came
running to The Roost.
“Patsy! Patsy! Where’s Patsy?” she called.
“I sent her to carry Mrs. Hight some wool,” said Mrs. Osborne. “She’ll
be back in an hour or so.”
“Oh, dear!” Anne exclaimed. “I can’t wait. Tell her I’ve gone--she
knows where--about _the secret_. Tell her to follow to the last place,
please, Cousin Miranda. She’ll understand. I must run.”
Away she sped, to pass the mill while Dick was at Larkland and get to
the chosen covert on the Old Plank Road. Near the mill the mail hack
passed her, with passengers that excited a sensation when they came to
The Village. They were the sheriff and a deputy with two of the negro
deserters, Bill and Martin Toole.
“Where d’you catch them?” asked Mr. Blair, neglecting his mail bags.
“Not so far from you folks,” answered the sheriff. “Lewis Jones saw two
men sneaking ’round that old sawmill place in the Big Woods; he came
and told me, and Tom Robson and me went and nabbed these fellows. We’ve
brought them here to jail to-night; to-morrow we’ll deliver them to
army folks.”
Just then Mrs. Red Mayo Osborne came in, hurried and anxious looking.
“Will,” she called to Mr. Blair, “have you seen Anne Lewis this
afternoon?”
“Not since directly after dinner,” he answered. “She passed the post
office then.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Osborne. “She came running in and asked for Patsy.
Patsy was away, at the Hights’, and Anne ran off, saying Patsy would
know where she was going. As soon as Patsy came home, she followed, but
she came back half an hour ago; she had looked and looked, and seen no
sign of Anne--on the Old Plank Road, where she expected to find her.”
“Anne ought not to wander off that way,” said Mr. Blair.
“Indeed not,” agreed Mrs. Osborne.
“I’d send the boys to look for her,” suggested Mr. Blair.
“They’ve gone,” said Mrs. Osborne. “David and Steve and Dick. It’s Dick
that made me so uneasy. When Patsy came back and found him at home, she
asked him where Anne was. He said he hadn’t seen her. And Patsy said
she had followed him, as far as the Old Plank Road, she was sure; and
farther. He looked startled, positively frightened. And he asked what
color her dress was; and when I said blue, a blue gingham, he said,
‘Oh, I’m afraid I saw her!’ He was off like a shot before I could ask a
question. He seemed so upset and excited that--well, it frightened me.”
“Nonsense, Miranda!” laughed Mr. Blair. “You let your imagination run
away with you. Anne ought not to roam the woods alone, but she is safe,
perfectly safe.”
Dick had, as his mother said, gone hurriedly in search of Anne. He did
not share Mr. Blair’s feeling of security; he was uneasy, alarmed.
On his way to the Old Sterling Mine that afternoon, he had seen two
negroes going up the path from the creek toward the mine. He crept
into the bushes and followed a little way, but the undergrowth was so
straggling that he could not get near them. One of the negroes was
Solomon Gabe, he was sure; the other negro, a stout, youngish figure,
had his back toward him and was screened by bushes. Dick caught only
a word here and there of their mumbled speech--“hide,” “get away,” and
oaths and oaths.
He crept back to the road, and then, to avoid Isham Baskerfield whose
oxcart was going up the hill, he went down the creek and cut through
the woods. He ran to Larkland to tell his Cousin Mayo what he had seen
and heard. The house was shut up. Perhaps he would find Cousin Mayo in
The Village.
And so Dick ran home--to be greeted by the news that Anne was off alone
somewhere; had followed him, Patsy said, along the Old Plank Road. Then
he remembered something that filled him with vague terror; if that were
Anne, and she should wander to the Old Sterling Mine, and encounter
those men---- He turned and ran to seek her. It was nearly dark when he
came to Isham’s cabin. The old negro was on the porch with his wife,
who was talking in a rapid, excited voice.
“Hey, Unc’ Isham!” Dick called. “Have you seen Anne?”
The man started and the woman was suddenly silent.
Dick called again; then he sprang over the fence and started toward the
cabin.
Lily Belle said something sharply to Isham, who turned and said: “Hey?
Why, it’s little Marse Dick. Was you calling me?” and hobbled down the
path.
“Have you seen Miss Anne Lewis?”
“See who? What you say, Marse Dick? Laws, I’m gittin’ deef!”
“Anne, Anne Lewis,” Dick said impatiently. “Which way did she go?”
“How I know which way she go? I ain’t see her,” mumbled Isham.
“What!” Dick said sharply. “I saw you going up the road in your cart,
and she was there at the top of the hill--in a blue dress.”
Isham looked terribly confused. Then he said: “Was that her? Was that
Miss Anne? My old eyes ain’t no good nowadays. I knowed somebody
passed me, but I was studyin’ ’bout my business, an’ I ain’t took no
noticement who ’twas.”
“But I thought she stopped and spoke to you,” said Dick. “It looked
like---- Didn’t she speak to you?”
As Dick became uncertain, Isham grew positive. “Who? Miss Anne? I don’t
riccermember her speakin’ to me. Naw, Miss Anne ain’t spoke to me.”
After all, Dick was not sure it was Anne. He had only seen a far-off
figure in blue. He thought--he was not certain--it paused by Isham’s
cart. He had not thought of Anne then, but now the conviction grew
that it was she; and he was curiously disturbed by Isham’s manner,
though he was sure the old negro would not hurt Anne.
Perhaps she had gone back, straying in the woods to get chinquapins,
and was now safe at home. Oh! surely she was at home. Twilight was
deepening. He would go home. He started back, examining the road
closely. There in the sand were footprints, slim little tracks, Anne’s
footprints!
So it _was_ Anne that Isham had met. Why did he say he had not seen
her? And why did he look so confused, frightened?
All the tracks led in one direction. There were no homeward-going
footprints. Anne had passed this way, but she had not gone back. Where
was she now? Did Isham know?
Dick ran to the cabin. No one was in sight, and door and shutter were
closed; but--for it was now dusk--he caught glimpses of flickering
firelight. He was just about to bang on the door when he heard a
voice,--not Isham’s and not Lily Belle’s. He peeped through a knothole.
There was a man sitting at the table. His back was turned. Dick crept
to the side of the cabin and looked through a crack. Now Lily Belle was
between him and the man. Isham threw a lightwood knot on the fire and
the blaze flared up. And Lily Belle moved. The man was Cæsar Gabe, the
deserter!
This news ought to go at once to The Village. But Anne! He could not go
back without one effort to find her. He ran down the road to the ford.
There he stopped. After listening intently and hearing nothing but
the usual wood noises, he took out the candle he had brought for his
mining, lighted it, and looked about. There, on the soft, damp ground,
the footprints were distinct; and they went, not up the road, but along
the path toward the mine.
Dick blew out the candle, squared his shoulders, and started up the
hill. If Anne had gone to the Old Sterling Mine, if she had encountered
the deserter--
Close to the mine he lighted his candle and saw rough, heavy tracks and
again that slim little footprint.
Should he go into the mine to search for her? Or should he hurry back
for help--not because of the danger to himself, but because he only
could guide aright the search for Anne; and to tell about the deserter.
As he stood there, trying to decide what was best to do, he heard--he
thought he heard--a faint cry. Anne? Was it Anne? Was she there, in
terror, in danger? He forgot his sober second thoughts about going back
for help. Anne there in need! He must go to her.
He scrambled down the ladder and stumbled along the tunnel to the main
room, not daring to light his candle. There was no glimmer in the
darkness before him, and now he heard no sound; perhaps he had never
heard anything, had just imagined he had. He lighted his candle and
examined the ground, but he could not distinguish footprints, Anne’s or
others. Was he wasting precious time here, when he ought to be on the
way home to give the alarm?
Anyway, he would go on to the second tunnel.
There, about the height of his head, was something hanging on one of
the rough timbers that supported the roofing. It was a piece of blue
ribbon, the gay bow that he had seen on Anne’s hair. He sprang forward,
in certainty and terror now, going straight to the pit at the end of
the tunnel. He stumbled against something and almost fell; it was the
ladder that some one had pulled out of the pit. He pushed it to the
edge, slid it in, and scrambled down.
As he reached the bottom, his arm was clutched, so suddenly that his
hand was jerked upward and his candle was extinguished. For a second
he was frozen with terror, awaiting he knew not what--a pistol at his
brow, a knife at his throat.
And then to him, expecting any terrible thing, came a dear, familiar
voice. “Oh, Dick! Dick!” gasped Anne. “I was so scared! I didn’t dare
look or move! And when I saw it was you---- Oh! I thought no one would
ever come. I thought they were coming back to kill me!”
“They? Who?”
“I don’t know. They threw a hat over my face from behind and
blindfolded me. Then they put me here.”
“Let’s get away, quick as we can,” said Dick. “I saw two men here this
afternoon. That’s why I went back.”
They climbed out of the pit and hurried along the tunnel.
Anne giggled hysterically. “O Dick!” she said. “I did find out your
secret. I said I would, and I did. But--I wish I hadn’t!”
He started to answer, and then--they were now at the foot of the
ladder--he stopped in terror. He heard voices. The men were returning.
“They’ve got us,” he said.
“Go on, go on,” gasped Anne. “Let’s get out anyway.”
“We’d just meet them,” replied Dick.
“Oh, come on out!” Anne said desperately. “Don’t let them kill us in
this awful hole.”
“A hole!” Dick exclaimed. “Oh! there’s one. Come here!”
He caught Anne by the arm and pulled her along the tunnel, into the
main room, to the pit into which he had fallen on his first visit to
the mine.
“Here’s a hole,” he explained in a rapid whisper; “behind this pile of
dirt. Wait a sec till I move these poles. Now! Grab that pole and slip
in. Feel for the log with your feet. There!”
Instead of following Anne, he poised on the crosswise timber.
“Hold the candle a minute,” he said. “Quick! And steady!”
He dragged back the poles he had pulled aside.
“Put out the light,” he said. “I’ll stay here and watch. If they don’t
step on the poles, they’ll never find us.”
“Oh, Dick! If----”
“Hush! They’re coming!”
They crouched down in silence, listening fearfully to the footsteps
and voices that came nearer and nearer. Three men, the foremost one
carrying a lantern, stopped in the main room of the mine. Dick saw them
clearly; they were Solomon Gabe, Cæsar, and Isham.
Solomon Gabe was moaning over and over: “Uh, my boy! Dey’ll git you,
dey’ll git you! My boy! my boy!”
Cæsar spoke with impatient harshness: “Shet up! Is all yore senses
wandered off, so you can’t see nothin’ but chain gangs an’ gallowses?
I tell you, I’m goin’ to git off. If you’d got any spondulix from dat
white man dat said he had gallon tin buckets o’ money---- Well, I’m
gwine in dat post office to-night. I’m bleeged to have money. Den dat
daybreak train.”
“What you drug me here for?” asked Isham’s frightened voice. “I got
nothin’ to do wid you an’ yore desertin’. You come to my house an’----”
“You reckon I was gwine to stay here an’ starve?” snarled Cæsar.
“An’ makin’ me tell dat lie ’bout not seein’ Miss Anne,” grumbled
Isham. “When dey finds out----”
“If you tell on me I’ll kill you, if it’s my last livin’ act,” Cæsar
said fiercely.
“Uh, I ain’t gwine to tell; I ain’t nuver gwine to tell,” promised
Isham, hastily. “But it don’t need me. Thar’s Miss Anne. What c’n you
do to----”
“Kill her,” said Cæsar.
“Uh, my boy! my boy! Trouble! trouble!” moaned his father.
“Cæsar! Cæsar!” Isham’s voice was shocked and deprecating.
“Killin’ is saftest,” insisted Cæsar. “If you-all’s feered, leave it to
me.”
“Naw! naw!” protested Isham. “Boy, if you do a killin’---- I know dese
here white mens. Dey’re mighty soft an’ easy-goin’ long as you don’t
make ’em mad. But if harm comes to dat gal, dey’ll grub thar way down
to hell wid thar bare hands to git de man dat done it. You’ll nuver git
away. I--I’ve heerd bloodhounds run,” he quavered.
Cæsar cowered. “You want to turn her loose, to start a search an’ git
me cotch?” he asked sullenly.
“Naw. Just left her in dat hole awhile,” said Isham. “She don’t know
yore name or nomernation. An’ ’fore folks find her, you’ll be gone.”
Cæsar thought it over. “Well,” he agreed. “If she stays thar two-three
days---- Le’s take a look ’round to make shore thar ain’t no way she
c’n climb out.”
“Thar wa’n’t nothin’ but de ladder, an’ you done took it out,” said
Isham.
“Le’s make shore. If she come here to de openin’, folks mought hear
her.”
Cæsar, followed by Isham and Solomon Gabe, went down the tunnel toward
the pit.
Anne clutched Dick’s arm. “They’ll miss me and find us here,” she
whispered. “Let’s get out. Let’s run.”
“Too near. Not time enough. Sh-sh!” Dick answered hurriedly.
Even then the negroes were coming back, in great excitement.
“Who put dat ladder thar? Who got her out?” Isham was saying wildly
over and over.
“Come on!” Cæsar was urging, between oaths. “We got to ketch her ’fore
she gits to de Village. Hit’s her life now; or mine!”
“Yas, yas! An’ I’ll stan’ by you!” Old Solomon Gabe ended with an
awful, sobbing shriek.
Anne and Dick, cowering in the hole, felt as if wild, bloodthirsty
beasts were on their trail. The fierce voices, the hurrying feet were
close at hand. But they passed by. They went toward the ladder. And
then voices and footsteps died away in the distance.