_The Prison—The Wheel-room—Caged_
_The Life and Death Struggle._
WE left Miss Hayward in the little boat, in the custody of Walker and
stupid Dick. For several hours they sped rapidly onward with the stream.
They encountered the party of rebels of which we have made mention, but,
as Walker, or Colonel Brown, was the officer highest in rank, no one
attempted to interfere with his project. The boat kept its course until
it came upon a broad flat which appeared to be some five or six miles in
length, and perhaps one in breadth. This, Walker informed Miss Hayward,
was the “Valley of Bohannan!”
“And,” said he, “your brother is confined in yonder mill!”
Miss Hayward gazed a moment upon the structure, and then burst forth in
the same wild strain she had sung so frequently during her boat voyage.
“It is folly for you to attempt to attract his notice by your voice. He
is a close prisoner and a maniac, and nothing but your constant presence
and attention will ever cause his reason to return!”
“What do you intend to do with him and myself?” asked Miss Hayward.
“I intend to take you to your brother. I intend to let you see him in a
wretched garret, with no hope of recovery, or of even life, unless you
come to his aid. I intend to permit you to _gaze_ upon this scene, but
not even to speak with your brother, or to assist him in any manner,
until you are my wife. Then you shall be free to attend to all his
wants, to provide for his comfort, to restore him to reason, to life and
to liberty.”
Miss Hayward bent her head upon her hands and wept.
“I will not ask for your final decision now!” continued Walker. “I will
wait until you have seen your brother, which will be in a few moments.”
The boat was drawn to the shore, and Walker, turning to Dick, said:
“I will dispense with you now. Go to Joe’s farm. Follow my instructions
as to storing the house with provisions, and at least one comfortable
bed. Miss Hayward, it is a beautiful place of which I speak, and, in
case of your refusal to perform all that I wish voluntarily, or to save
your brother, I shall be compelled to take advantage of a friend’s
mansion, in case I can not effect my escape with you to Arkansas. This I
doubt being able to do, and more, I don’t know that I shall run the
risk, as I am only a subordinate, and some of my superiors _might_ order
your release. You perceive that I intend to make sure of my prize now
that she is in my keeping. As my wife she will be permitted all proper
liberty, but until you are such, by your own voluntary act, I must keep
you safely from approach by any one.”
Dick had left his master. Walker and Miss Hayward arrived at the log-hut
adjoining the mill, and entered it. Old Madge was there, but she looked
pale and frightened.
“Come here, Madge. What is the matter?” asked Walker.
“The devil’s broke loose!” replied Madge, trembling violently.
“Come, don’t be alarmed; I am Walker. I am the one who sent you the
hundred dollars to keep the man safely. You have done so, I hope.”
“He has just broke loose, and run into the woods.”
“How did that happen?”
“Oh, he heard a voice singing outside, and, in his fever-delirium, said
it was an angel calling him to heaven, and he burst from his room and
rushed up yonder.”
Walker and the old woman conversed together in undertones for a few
moments, when he turned to Miss Hayward and said:
“Your brother, in his delirium, broke his chains, and is at large in the
mountains. He will not return here, and I think it doubtful if I can
find him. He will, most likely, make his way to the Federal camps. But,
come with me; you shall see where he was confined, and then learn my
further intentions.”
Walker seized the unresisting maiden by the arm, and drew her into the
mill. Up the dirty stairs she went, and finally entered the room, or
attic, where the unfortunate brother had been detained prisoner. She
shuddered as she gazed around her.
“Now,” said Walker, “I will show you _your_ room—one you shall occupy
until you are Mrs. Colonel Brown.”
He drew her still further on, and opened a massive door, which grated
upon its hinges. She gazed in. It was a small apartment into which the
carpenter usually entered when he wished to repair the great water-wheel
which set the mill in motion. This room, or rather aperture, was of
construction unlike any apartment intended for occupancy. There was a
platform about ten feet in width, which formed the only flooring. Then a
great opening beyond, through which the main wheel extended upward about
eight or ten feet, entirely filling the opening in the floor. Any man
confined in this apartment would find little difficulty in effecting his
escape, provided he was an expert swimmer, and the mill not in motion.
But the manner in which an escape must be effected would be as follows:
When the mill was running, the wheel being then in motion, the water was
thrown in large quantities in every part of the room, and its inmate
could scarcely prevent drowning by catching his breath at intervals. To
attempt to spring into the wheel—which was formed something like the
wheel of a wagon, the rim, or tire, however, being about twenty feet in
breadth, with crevices, or brackets, for catching the water which
propelled it, and the braces answering as spokes bearing proportion to
the rim—would almost assuredly be dashed in pieces in the attempt to
gain the interior. But, once there, he would be whirled round and round
until he could gather his energies for a jump when that portion of the
wheel in which he was perched was _down_, or nearest the bed of the
stream. To leap out _into_ the river would be a task equally perilous to
that of springing in. When the wheel was _not_ in motion, one could step
into the opening, slide down the rim with great ease, spring into the
water, and gain the shore in a moment.
Miss Hayward gazed into this room or vault with a fainting, sickening
sensation; but she did not speak. It appeared as if hope had almost left
her heart, now that she found her brother gone, and she nerved herself
for any fate that might overtake her.
* * * * *
It was, as we have stated, late in the afternoon before the rebels
encamped around the stack where Nettleton and Fall-leaf were secreted,
took their departure, and up to that time the two faithful pursuers were
unable to venture forth. At last all was safe, and they emerged from
their concealment, and gazed around them. No living person was to be
seen. A meal was hastily prepared, after partaking of which they resumed
their journey at a rapid rate. All night they plodded along, taking care
to see that no _mill_ was passed upon the route. As the morning dawned,
they found themselves in an open space of considerable extent, and close
by the stream was a mill. This was carefully examined in every nook and
corner; but nothing was found. They made inquiry of a woman living in a
cabin near the spot, and learned that, a mile further on, was another
mill of larger dimensions, belonging to one Bohannan. For this place
they immediately bent their steps. Arriving, they were met by old Madge,
who immediately commenced her mummeries in order to divert their
attention. The Indian gazed upon her a moment, as if half in awe, and
half in fear, but Nettleton did not pause, and exclaimed:
“Come along, Ingen; I expect here’s the place.”
They entered the mill. The Indian remained at the door to prevent any
egress, while Nettleton commenced his search. Up and down, high and low,
the search was prosecuted.
Walker being then within, had observed the approach of Nettleton and the
Indian. His first impulse was to fire upon them; but he knew if his aim
proved inaccurate he might then bid adieu to life, and so he resolved to
resort to stratagem. He seized Miss Hayward and sprung into a wheat-bin,
close by the door of the wheel-room we have described. He soon buried
himself and his prisoner among a lot of old bags, husks and refuse, and
cautioned her to remain quiet, as a band of Kansas cut-throats, who
regarded neither the life or person of a pretty woman, were at hand.
This had the effect to keep Miss Hayward quiet.
Nettleton had completed his search. The lower floor of the mill had been
carefully scrutinized—its closets, its bins—except the small one near
the wheel-room, which had escaped his notice.
“I wonder if there is any thing under the mill?” queried Nettleton.
“I’ll call, and see if that does any good. Captain! Captain Hayward!”
The voice was at once recognized by Miss Hayward, who vainly struggled
to reply; but Walker held a handkerchief so tightly over her mouth that
she could produce no sound. At length, by a desperate effort, she
removed his hand and shrieked:
“Here, William! here!”
“Where? where?” cried William, as he sprung toward the bin.
“_In the wheel-room!_” yelled Walker, smothering his voice so far as to
drown the exact direction in which it came.
Nettleton bounded into the wheel-room, closely followed by the Indian,
who now supposed their friends to be found. Quick as lightning Walker
sprung from the bin, and slammed the door upon them, bolting it
securely. He then started for the mill-gate, which, being hoisted, would
set the large wheel in motion.
As soon as the door was closed upon Nettleton, he rightly suspected
treachery, and throwing himself with all his violence against the door,
tried to force it. But in vain.
“Quick, Ingen; jump into the mill-wheel, and down into the water!”
They were about to adopt this plan of escape, when the wheel started
with great rapidity, rendering it seemingly impossible to do so.
“Now,” yelled Walker, as he seized Miss Mamie and bore her from the
mill, “you shall see the folly of opposing me! You shall see how I
triumph over _all_ obstacles, and how those who oppose me perish!”
Inside of the mill, and near the door, was a quantity of hay and
unthreshed grain, stored there for use by some neighboring farmer or
guerrilla. Striking a match, Walker lit the inflammable material. In a
moment it blazed high, and communicated with the woodwork. Walker only
waited to see this, and then, almost dragging Miss Hayward along, he
reached the river, drew the boat into the stream, and was once more
floating with the current.
“Look, Miss Mamie, is not that a lovely sight?” he cried, pointing to
the mill, now thoroughly enveloped in flames. “Nettleton is there, and
Fall-leaf is there, and they have been brought there by _you_. They will
perish in those flames, and you must be responsible for their murder.
When will you learn that it is useless to oppose me, and cease to do so?
To submit to my proper and honorable requests is the only way you can
save your friends.”
When Nettleton and Fall-leaf found their mode of escape thus cut off,
they naturally turned to each other for advice. But the water thrown
from the wheel so blinded and choked them that they could not hold
conversation at all. It was not long before our prisoners became aware
of the fact that, however disagreeable the water might be, they were
likely to be visited by an element, and that very soon, far more
disagreeable, under the present circumstances. The flames were seizing
upon every part of the mill, and all around them soon became a mass of
lurid, destroying light. The rafters, flooring and upper work threatened
to fall at any moment. Still the room in which our friends were confined
remained unscathed, surrounded as it was by water. But, it must soon
yield to the fiery element. The wheel still moved; yet it seemed as if
its speed was somewhat lessened. At length Nettleton yelled:
“Ingen, I’m going; take your chances!”
With a bound he sprung into the wheel. He escaped any severe blow, but,
upon alighting he was tossed, and pitched, and tumbled over, until at
last, catching upon the centre-bar, he held himself until he had made
his calculation as to where his next jump should be. At last he ventured
the hazardous leap, and was precipitated into the foaming waters beneath
the wheel, which in its revolution struck him lightly, calling forth a
grumble or a grunt. But Nettleton battled bravely with the rushing
waters, and at length, half dead with suffocation, he crawled upon the
bank as the burning rafters of the mill were falling around him.
“Wal, I suppose Ingen is roasted alive, and I must do the work alone.
I’m darn sorry. And I’ve lost my gun, too. But I ought to be glad that I
didn’t lose myself. The villain, but won’t I roast him if ever I lay
these hands on him!”
Thus he muttered as he sat for a moment gazing upon the appalling
spectacle before him. He then sprung up, and seeing the old woman, at
once started for the cabin. Madge met him at the door.
“Will you have my services, to tell you truly the fortune that is in
store for you?” she asked.
“Your services. Yaas; I’ll have you tell me all about affairs here in
this quarter, and if you don’t own up every thing, I’ll put you in this
pile of logs and roast you, as sure as you are a she woman. Do you
understand?”
“I have but little to reveal of the circumstances to which you refer.
The Federal officer _was_ in the mill a prisoner, but escaped, in his
delirium, and is now somewhere out in the mountain. Walker and the lady
were in the mill, but are now out of reach, down stream. This is all I
know.”
“And it is enough. Now, you just fork over a good Minié musket—I know
you have a dozen concealed here for the use of your friends, and all the
fixins for settlin’ the hash of your friend, Captain Walker, for him and
me has an account to fix what will require powder and lead, if this
bread-cutter of mine don’t do the job,” he said, handling his
bowie-knife.
Madge only too well read in Nettleton’s face the resolute nature of the
man, and with scarcely a moment’s hesitancy went out of the hut to a
hollow tree near by, and produced from thence an armful of arms, made up
of shot-guns, old-fashioned rifles, and a Minié musket. From these
Nettleton selected, after careful scrutiny, a heavy double-barrel
squirrel gun. Ammunition was also supplied by the woman without
hesitancy, and the pursuer soon found himself equipped in a most
formidable manner.
“There, old gal, you have done the right thing. It is well that you did,
for, as sure as lizards, I should have burned you in your pen if you
hadn’t forked over what I know’d was in your possession. Now, good-by,
and behave yourself. If the captain—my captain I mean—comes back to you,
do you be kind to him, for I tell _you_ it is for your best interests to
be so. Do you believe that?”
“I believe any thing you say,” replied the old creature, betraying her
anxiety to get rid of her visitor.
“You do, eh? Well, jist keep on thinking so, for I shall, mayhap, want
to use you again some of these days. So good-by, and keep your eyes
clean.”
With this injunction he started again for the river, following the
stream for some distance, but finally, for some reason best known to
himself, took to the mountains. Every few moments he would pause and
listen, as if a faint sound met his ears, and then continue his journey.
After Nettleton had escaped from the mill, Fall-leaf began to look
around for some other means of escape. He felt sure that Nettleton’s
leap must be a fatal one—that, if he was not dashed to pieces by the
wheel, he would surely be drowned in the rushing waters. All chance of
escape for the poor Indian appeared quite as hopeless. The flames were
already hissing around him, and curling up the sides of his
prison-house. The fire had weakened the boards, and, just as the flames
were coiling around his form, he made a desperate effort, and burst the
siding from the mill. In an instant he sprung through the aperture,
although the fiery element presented a formidable obstacle between
himself and safety. He alighted, however, with only a few slight
bruises, and, waiting for nothing, bounded forward. He knew if Walker
had continued his journey down the river, he could soon overtake him.
For an hour he did not slacken his pace, and finally, in turning a short
bend in the river, he beheld the boat.
He was about to dash forward to the rescue of Miss Hayward, but he
remembered that he had no gun, his only weapon being his sheath-knife,
while Walker was well armed. He must resort to stratagem. His object was
to watch for opportunity, and when Walker should land, or when the boat
neared the shore, and the thicket favored the movement, to spring upon
him suddenly, and drive the knife to his heart. But the river gradually
grew wider, and Walker kept his boat in the center, too far distant from
shore for any attempt for his seizure to prove successful. All that day
and all the night following, the boat drifted on with the stream. It was
evident Walker was anxious to reach a certain point as quickly as
possible.
The morning dawned just as the little craft shot past the ford on the
Rolla turnpike, near the “ghost swamp,” a locality of weird interest and
novel character. Walker was about to land, near a small farm-house which
stood behind a jutting hill, entirely concealed from the main road, but
before touching the shore, his quick eye caught sight of a dark form
creeping cautiously along the bank. At the same moment he discovered
three horses tied in a thicket only a short distance from the house.
Whether they belonged to friend or foe he could not tell; but the fact
of seeing the creeping form rendered him cautious, and he immediately
pulled for the opposite shore, where he landed.
“Are you friend or foe to the Confederates?” shouted Walker, from the
opposite side of the stream.
There was no response.
“That cursed Dick must have betrayed me,” he muttered. “But, I will
match them yet. Come!”
He dragged Miss Hayward along up the mountain steep. At length he
reached a point of rock which extended far over the valley below. A
narrow footway, not more than ten inches in width, forming a kind of
shelf in the rock, led into an immense cavern, which is known in that
region as the “Silver Cave.” Just in front of this cave was a large,
flat rock, forming an overhanging platform, but to reach this, or the
mouth of the cave, required great care, as the narrow path was the only
manner in which an entrance or exit could be effected. Into this place
Walker conveyed Miss Hayward.
Walker had, when meeting the rebels two days before, provided his boat
well with provisions. These he conveyed with him into the cavern.
He had not observed, however, that he was followed closely, and that the
Indian arrived at the narrow passageway just as the rebel and his
prisoner entered the cave. This was so. The Indian crept up as closely
as possible, and peered over the projecting point which shut Walker from
his view. He was observed.
“And who are you?” yelled Walker.
The Indian was perfectly familiar with the cave. He knew no person could
leave it by the narrow shelf or pathway. He could keep himself
concealed, and if Walker passed a certain point, before he could bring
his gun to bear, he could strike him dead. Walker was a prisoner, with a
watchful and relentless keeper. The Indian replied:
“Ah, White Bird! Fall-leaf here! Fall-leaf save!”
“Is it indeed my friend Fall-leaf?” cried Miss Hayward, joyfully.
“Yes; Fall-leaf save you!”
“Where is William Nettleton?” asked Mamie.
“Gone—gone!”
“Ah! then I have only _you_ to encounter,” yelled Walker, “and, if the
Fates favor me, I shall triumph. I know the Indian has not thought to
provide himself with provisions. I have enough to last us, with care,
for two weeks, and by that time he will starve, for no Federal fool ever
will find me _here_. He dare not leave in search of help, for I should
then effect my escape. So we will play our hands, and see if I do not
hold the trump card. Ha! ha! I can baffle any friend you have, Miss
Hayward.”
“White Bird sing,” said the Indian.
“Yes, I will sing. And as we are now near the main road, some one will
be sure to hear me.”
“Me watch—me wait!”
During the entire passage Miss Hayward had not failed to sing her
echo-song every few miles, hoping to attract attention and gain
assistance. Now that she was so near the public highway, she applied
herself anew to the task. Walker made frequent attempts to silence her,
but could not do it, as he feared, whenever he turned from his watch,
that the Indian would dart in upon him.
Some two years previous, there was a superstitious belief prevailing in
that section of Missouri, that the spirit of a murdered lady appeared
upon the waters of the Gasconade, singing her mournful lays, and gliding
in her death-skiff along the waters. For some time past nothing had been
heard of the “lady-ghost;” but, when the songs of Miss Hayward were
heard, the simple inhabitants began to think that the “ghost-lady” had
returned, and, instead of seeking to gratify their curiosity, were
careful to keep as far as possible away. So it proved with regard to the
cave, after the singing commenced.
Several days passed, and no succor appeared. The Indian kept faithful
watch, and so did Walker, that he might not be taken by surprise.
Walker becoming convinced that Fall-leaf had no gun, several times
endeavored to bring his own to bear upon his vigilant foe, but this he
could not do without placing himself in a dangerous position. Both were
weary for want of sleep, and both would occasionally sink into a fitful
slumber; but, so intent was each upon his object, that the slightest
movement would rouse the sleepers, and each stand ready to meet his foe.
But, as Fall-leaf had no food, he began to grow faint—his firm frame
began visibly to weaken; still, he determined to maintain his watch as
long as life should last.