_Hayward._
IT is time the reader was enlightened, somewhat, as to the fate of
Captain Hayward.
The wound he had received the night of the attempted assassination, was
severe, but by no means fatal. The loss of blood had rendered him very
weak, and for some time he remained insensible.
At the moment the blow was inflicted, there was, upon the other bank of
the river, and watching the Federals, a squad of rebel cavalry scouts.
The water into which Hayward was thrown soon revived the wounded man. He
was seen by this band, and carried to the house of an officer of the
Confederate army, not half a mile from the spot. Here his wound was
dressed. It was not long before an order reached them, signed by
“Colonel Brown,” to convey him to the camp of Colonel Price, at Ozark.
This order was law, and immediately after the Federals left Grand
Prairie, a boat was procured, and Hayward placed in it. But half
conscious, he reached the Ozark bridge at the critical juncture already
described in the chapter referring to the interview between Nettie
Morton and Charles Campbell, and the interruption by Colonel Price, the
rescue of Nettie by Fall-leaf, the approach of the Union forces, and the
resolve of Charles Campbell to save the wounded captain.
It was at the moment when Price was in pursuit of the Indian that
Campbell, taking advantage of his absence, and observing the approach of
the Federals, hastily penned the note previously referred to and then
pushed off with the boat, down the stream, in order to effect his escape
with the prisoner.
He began to hope that success would crown his efforts. The battle
favored his flight. All that day and the night following, he pursued his
course. It was his purpose to follow the Gasconade until he had reached
the point nearest Rolla, where he supposed he would be free from the
roving bands of rebels, who were so numerous in the vicinity of
Springfield. But his hopes were doomed to disappointment. Colonel Price,
anticipating the direction he had taken, immediately dispatched one
Lieutenant Lewis, a most tireless wretch, with a squad of ten men, to
intercept Campbell, and the prisoner captain.
Just as the morning dawned, Campbell saw the pursuing party approaching.
Pulling for the shore, he lifted Captain Hayward in his arms, and bore
him into a mill, which stood near at hand. There he quickly concealed
his charge in an upper loft, and returned to meet the rebels. He stated
he had been captured by a party of the Federals and conveyed to that
point, and that they had there released him upon his parole of honor.
This story was generally believed, although one of the band appeared to
be incredulous, and left his fellows for a pretended search. Not
observing his absence, the remainder of the rebel band returned without
him, taking care, however, that Campbell was not left behind.
When this person entered the mill, he found Hayward leaning upon his
elbow, quite conscious, but too weak to move. He paused before the
wounded man, and was silent, Hayward saw, and recognized him.
“Are friends near?” was his feeble question.
“I am the only friend you have got in these parts, and I reckon as how
‘ugly Jim’ ain’t just the man you want to see!”
“You are one of my own men!” returned Hayward.
“That’s a p’int as will admit of some argument, as the lawyers say! I
may be _your_ man when I am in Springfield, but you are _my_ man now! So
don’t kick up any fuss, and after I have made you fast, I’ll tell you
the rest. Ha, ha!” he muttered to himself, “but Walker shall pay me well
for _this_!”
Saying this the rebel rascal left the mill. Not far from this mill, in a
wretched log-hut, lived an old woman, who gloried in the title of “crazy
Madge,” and of whom the rude backwoods people of the vicinity stood in
fear, as it was almost universally believed among them that she was
possessed of the devil. She told fortunes with great correctness, and
employed the most singular modes in doing this, such as burning powder
and strange incense, and the uttering of fearful imprecations, and
unearthly sounds.
The mill was owned by one Bohannan, a captain of Confederate guerrillas.
Since the commencement of the war, it had not been in operation, except
on rare occasions. About one mile above Bohannan’s mill, there was
another mill, of smaller dimensions, which had formerly been owned by a
thorough Union man, who, becoming a refugee, had abandoned this mill,
also. So when the residents in that region, or any of the straggling
rebel bands, had occasion to grind their grain, they always went to the
upper mill, more especially as it was believed that “crazy Madge” had
taken full possession of the lower one after its proprietor left, and
that, being occupied in sacrilegious rites, it was very generally
believed to be unsafe to venture in that vicinity. Even the most
reckless and hardy of the guerrillas held the spot in awe, and avoided
it at all times.
Madge was seated in her own door when Campbell entered the mill with
Hayward in his arms. She watched him closely, but uttered no word. She
saw him emerge, and meet the rebel band. She watched their departure,
and then discovered the newcomer, “Grouse Green,” as he was known. When
he came forth from the mill, Madge still was seated in the cabin
doorway, smoking her pipe. She did not even raise her eyes, or pretend
the least consciousness of his presence, until, with a rude slap upon
her shoulder, he said:
“Come, old woman, I want you!”
The old creature pretended not the least surprise, but, raising her
snake-like eyes to those of the speaker, she said:
“Does the son of Belial wish to know his fate? I need not the aid of my
magic charms to point it out to me. In less than a month, the most
horrible death—”
“Bah, you old crone! I’d dash your brains out for a copper, you infernal
croaking old buzzard! I don’t come to have my fortune told, but I want
you to serve me, and you shall have gold—do you hear, old woman? No
fooling now, and gold is yours!”
“Gold! It is the master-key to human hearts! And what am I to do for
gold?”
“My bidding! First, I want a set of chains! Have you such things in your
infernal den?”
“You can have them for gold!” she exclaimed, tottering to a closet, and
rattling the cold iron. “I always keep them—it is necessary to my
trade!”
“Now for the bargain, old hag. You saw me enter that mill just now?
Well, there is a captain confined, or will be confined before I leave
him, in the upper loft. He will be fastened. You must feed him daily,
just enough to keep life in him. I will give you a hundred to start
upon—more money than you ever saw, old woman, and when I return, if you
have well done your duty as keeper, I will give you another hundred.
Will you be faithful and keep the prisoner in safety from rescue?”
“I swear it by my magic art!”
“Bah! blast your art! Swear it by the gold you will receive, and I’ll
believe you. But come!”
Green reëntered the mill followed by old Madge. He seized the helpless
Hayward and bore him to an upper loft. There he fettered him with the
chains.
“And now I shall leave you here until we can attend to you at a more
convenient time!” he muttered, as he gazed exultingly upon Hayward. He
was about to leave him alone.
“Stay but a moment!” cried the wounded man. “Tell me of my sister!”
“She has become the wife of Colonel Brown, of the Confederate army, or,
as _you_ know him, Captain Walker, of the Federals!”
“Liar!” cried Hayward. “But no! I will not use such terms now. Do you
know who struck the blow which so nearly deprived me of life?”
“Yes; it was William Nettleton! He is also enlisted in the service of
Walker. And I will tell you more. In two days after you disappeared,
Lieutenant Wells was hung for your murder. Your sister fled with Walker,
who pretended the greatest friendship for her. _I_ performed the
ceremony, and to-night they are not three miles from you.”
Hayward had become insensible, and sunk to the floor. Green saw this,
and motioning to the old woman, they left him alone.
“That is the game I want _you_ to play!” said Green, as they emerged
from the mill. “Of course, all I have told him is false. But I want you
to carry it out, because Colonel Price wishes it as well as Walker, and
as he is a most dangerous man to our cause, I don’t care how poorly he
gets along. It would be a good thing for us if he could never take the
field again. So see that you do your duty!”
Madge received her money, and agreed to follow all the instructions he
had given her.
Green now returned at once to the camp, and reported to Walker. It was
just before the decision of the court-martial had been given, and that
officer was free, not only from restraint, but from any thing which had,
as yet, assumed a definite form. He was delighted with the intelligence,
and resolved to take advantage of it soon as Wells could be thoroughly
crushed.