I STAND PICKET.
I do not believe that any five boys in the world ever felt more
astonished or elated over a stroke of good fortune than we did at the
unexpected success that had attended our chase after Luke Redman.
The men in the settlement had spent a week in searching for this same
robber and trying to recover General Mason’s money, and their efforts
had amounted to nothing; but we had accomplished the work, and we had
not been more than three hours in doing it, either.
The eight thousand dollars were safe, the thief was bound and helpless
before us, and Black Bess was once more in my undisputed possession. I
thought we had good reason to rejoice.
“I say, Mr. Redman!” exclaimed Herbert, who was the first to recover his
breath, “you wouldn’t mind telling us how you managed to steal this
money, and to get away with it without being discovered, would you?”
“I didn’t steal it!” growled Luke, in reply. “Mebbe you won’t b’lieve
it,” he added, seeing that we smiled derisively, “but I can prove it.”
“Well, you stole Black Bess, didn’t you?”
“If I did, you’ve got her ag’in, an’ had oughter be satisfied.”
“Perhaps you know who set fire to our cotton-gin?” I observed.
“P’raps I do, an’ p’raps I don’t. But I’ll tell you one thing: You had
better turn me loose, or it’ll be wuss for you!”
“Tell us another thing while you are about it,” said Mark. “How did you
get out of that tree the other day? Did you jump into the water and swim
over the falls, as I did?”
“I reckon that’s my own business, ain’t it?”
It was plain that Luke was not in a communicative mood. Some rogues,
when they find themselves brought up with a round turn, become penitent,
and are willing to relate all the circumstances attending the commission
of their crime, but our prisoner did not belong to that class. He was
sullen and morose, and had no doubt made up his mind that he would say
nothing that could be used as evidence against him.
We were a great deal disappointed at this; for there were one or two
incidents connected with the loss of the money and the disappearance of
Black Bess that we should like to have had explained, but as Mr. Redman
was not in the humor to gratify our curiosity, we were obliged to leave
the unraveling of the mysteries to time and future events.
At this moment it seemed to strike the robber that he had been a
prisoner long enough, and, having in some measure recovered from his
fatigue, he began to test the strength of the straps with which he was
confined.
He was a powerful man, and his struggles to free himself were furious
and determined indeed. He rolled about on the ground, gnashing his teeth
with rage, his face reddening with his exertions, and the muscles on his
arms standing out like cords of steel.
He threatened to take a most terrible vengeance on us when he succeeded
in liberating himself; and as we stood watching his contortions, we
trembled with the fear that some of the straps would slip or prove too
weak to hold him. But, although we had done our work in great haste, we
had done it well, and Luke was finally obliged to submit to his fate.
“Now, I’ll just tell you what’s the matter!” exclaimed Sandy, who had
stood with his hat off and his sleeves pushed up, ready to pounce upon
the prisoner the instant he saw the least probability of his freeing
himself from his bonds; “give it up, don’t you? Them straps are purty
strong, I reckon—hain’t they? You’re fast, an’ thar’s no use of wastin’
time in fussin’ about it.”
“What are you goin’ to do with me?” asked Luke Redman, in savage tones.
“We’re going to take you to the settlement, and put you where you’ll
never have another chance to steal money and horses,” I answered.
“I’ll bet you somethin’ big that you don’t take me to the settlement.
I’ve got friends clost by who won’t let harm come to me. If you expect
to see daylight ag’in, you had better turn me loose. I’ll pay the hul
lot on you fur this, mind that.”
We began to prick up our ears when we heard this, and to see the
necessity of taking our prisoner to a place of safety with as little
delay as possible. We did not really believe that he had companions in
the neighborhood who would attempt to rescue him, but we did not like to
run any risks.
The Swamp Dragoons were always prowling about in the woods, and turning
up most unexpectedly, and how did we know but that some of them had
witnessed all that had taken place at Dead Man’s Elbow? If that was the
case, they would never permit Luke to be taken to the settlement if they
could help it; and as they were a desperate lot of fellows, we did not
care to come in contact with them.
I had another reason for wishing to start for home immediately. The
cold, which had been intense in the morning, was increasing in severity,
and some portions of my wet clothing were frozen stiff; and now that the
excitement attending the chase and capture of the robber had somewhat
abated, I found that I was chilled through, and so benumbed that I could
scarcely stand.
More than that, the storm which had been threatening us for the last
three days had set in, and the rain and sleet began to rattle through
the leafless branches above our heads. It promised to be a dismal night,
and we were twenty miles from home.
These same thoughts, or others very nearly akin to them, must have been
passing through the minds of the rest of our fellows, for they looked
anxiously at one another and at the lowering sky, and Herbert said:
“We’ve wasted too much time already. The sooner we start for home the
better. Friend Redman, we are not playing with you, and if you want to
save yourself some rough handling, you will be careful what you do.
Let’s untie his feet, fellows, and put him on Joe’s extra horse.”
Our prisoner evidently thought it best to heed Herbert’s advice, for
when the horse which I had ridden during the pursuit was brought up, and
we lifted him from the ground, and placed him on the animal’s back, he
did not offer the least resistance. He uttered terrible threats,
however, but we paid no more attention to them than we did to the
whistling of the wind.
As soon as we had gone through all his pockets, in search of the pistol
with which he had threatened us (by the way, he didn’t have any thing
about him more dangerous than a pocket-knife), we sprang into our
saddles and set out for home; Duke heading the cavalcade, Mark following
at his heels, leading the horse on which our captive was mounted,
Herbert coming next with the valise, and Sandy and I bringing up the
rear, keeping a close watch over Luke Redman, and holding ourselves in
readiness to resist his first attempt at escape.
In this way we passed the five miles that lay between Dead Man’s Elbow
and the bayou on the banks of which we had stopped to eat our dinner.
As we rode through the camp, Sandy dismounted long enough to secure
possession of the squirrels he had shot a few hours before, and which
still lay at the root of the tree where he had left them.
“Mebbe we won’t see home to-night,” said he, “so I’ll take these along;
’cause I know by experience that it is monstrous lonesome campin’ in the
woods without nothing to eat.”
Luke Redman started when he heard this remark, and an expression of
great satisfaction settled on his scowling face. I noticed, too, that
after we left the bayou he began to cast stealthy glances around him, as
if he were looking for some one; and once I saw his gaze fastened
earnestly upon a cluster of bushes which grew on a neighboring ridge,
running parallel with the one we were following.
I scrutinized the thicket closely, and would have been willing to
declare that I saw a coonskin cap, under which were a pair of eyes
regarding us intently. But the cap vanished at the very moment I caught
sight of it, and believing that I had been mistaken, I said nothing
about it to my companions.
In less than half an hour after we left our old camp, night began to
settle down upon us, and before we had accomplished another mile, it was
so dark that we could scarcely distinguish one another’s features.
The storm had all the while been increasing in fury, and now the rain
and sleet came down in torrents, and it was not many minutes before we
were all drenched to the skin. The cold and darkness grew more intense,
and, to add to the unpleasantness of our situation, we reached the end
of the ridge at last, and from that point our way lay across a bottom
ten miles wide, which was covered with mud and ice, thickets of cane and
blackberry briers, and studded with cypress knees, which rendered our
progress slow and laborious.
“Duke,” said Sandy, at length—and I could tell by the tones of his voice
that he was shaking with the cold—“strike up a whistle. It is so dark we
can’t see to foller you.”
“I am too nearly frozen to whistle,” replied Duke. “It is all I can do
to talk. That isn’t the worst of it, either. I am afraid we are lost.”
Now, getting lost was something that did not trouble us in the least,
for a surer guide than Duke Hampton was not to be found in the country.
His “bump of locality” was largely developed, and any place he had once
visited he could find again on the darkest of nights. He sometimes
laughingly said that he possessed owl’s eyes, and I have thought it was
so, for it made not the slightest difference, as far as his traveling
was concerned, whether it was high noon or midnight.
He once more urged his unwilling horse forward, and for two long, dreary
hours we stumbled about in the darkness, the rain and sleet beating
furiously in our faces, and every bone in our bodies aching with the
cold.
During all this time no one spoke except Luke Redman, who abused and
threatened us steadily for an hour, scarcely stopping to take breath;
then, suddenly changing his tone, he entreated us to untie his hands,
and, finding that we paid no attention to him, he solemnly declared that
he was freezing to death, and relapsed into silence.
I began to think I was freezing also, and when I could no longer endure
the cold, I proposed to our fellows to abandon the idea of riding to the
settlement that night, and strike for our camp on Black Bayou—the one
our negroes had built on the day we went into the woods to watch our
turkey-trap.
There we would find warm, dry quarters, and materials with which to
kindle a fire; and as Sandy had been thoughtful enough to bring the
squirrels he had shot, we need not go supperless to bed.
This plan was hailed with delight by the others, and Duke at once turned
his horse, and started off in a direction exactly at right angles with
the one he had been pursuing.
If we had known all that was to happen to us before we saw the sun rise
again, our camp on Black Bayou would have been the very last place in
the world we should have thought of visiting.
How Duke knew what course to follow, was a mystery to all of us. I do
not suppose he could have explained it himself, for the night was so
dark that he could not see five feet in advance of him, and consequently
he could not have had the assistance of any familiar landmarks.
He seemed to know the direction by instinct, and we, never doubting his
ability to lead us to the place of refuge we had selected, followed him
blindly.
I shall never forget that ride. How far it was to the bayou, and how
many hours we traveled before reaching it, I do not know. All I remember
is that, when I became so cold that I could scarcely sit in my saddle,
and with the greatest difficulty resisted the inclination to dismount
from my horse and give myself up to the drowsiness that almost
overpowered me, Duke suddenly drew rein, and in a cheery voice
announced: “Here we are at last, fellows.”
I aroused myself with an effort, and looked about me; but all I could
see was a dense black wall of trees, which surrounded us on all sides. I
was as completely lost now as I had been at any time during the night,
and so was Herbert, if one might judge by the question he asked:
“What place do you call this?” said he.
“Why, this is our old camp,” replied Duke, “and right glad am I to see
it; for I do not believe I could ride a hundred yards further to save my
life.”
“You must have owl’s eyes indeed, if you can see any signs of a shanty
here,” observed Mark.
“Well, I can’t exactly _see_ any thing, but I know it is the camp. Jump
off, fellows, and let’s get to work.”
It was all very well for Duke to tell us to _jump_ off, but, as far as I
was concerned, that was quite out of the question. I do not know whether
I rolled out of my saddle or fell out; but I got out somehow, and did
what I could to assist the others in gathering a supply of wood for the
fire.
The exercise was beneficial in more ways than one. It stirred up our
sluggish blood, banished all the gloomy thoughts that had so long
depressed us, and when at last the fire was well under way, and the
flames were leaping high in the air, and lighting up the interior of our
comfortable quarters, we began to feel more like ourselves.
We forgot that we were cold, wet, hungry, and almost ready to drop with
fatigue, and thought only of the glorious success we had achieved, and
of the sensation we should create when we took our prisoner and General
Mason’s money into the settlement, on the following morning.
“I know this is comfortable, fellows,” said Duke, as we crowded about
the cheerful blaze, “but let’s do our work first, and get warm
afterward. Joe, suppose you and Sandy rub down the horses, and hitch
them in some sheltered place where they will be protected from the
storm. They have served us faithfully to-day, and it would be cruel to
neglect them. While you are doing that, Herbert and I will get in some
wood, and Mark can clean and cook the squirrels.”
We did not raise any objections to this arrangement, but hurried off at
once to attend to the duties our leader had assigned us.
In half an hour more, the horses had been rubbed dry, and their legs
relieved of the mud and ice that adhered to them; a supply of wood
sufficient to keep the fire burning all night was piled in one corner of
the shanty, and we lay stretched out on the leaves, enveloped in a cloud
of steam which arose from our wet clothing, watching with hungry eyes
the movements of our cook.
We were all in the best of spirits now, even including Luke Redman, who
seemed for the moment to forget that his hands were bound behind his
back, and that he stood a splendid chance of passing a portion of his
life within the walls of a penitentiary.
“Now, then,” exclaimed Mark, “supper’s ready. I can’t say that it will
go very far toward satisfying our appetites,” he continued, glancing at
the six pieces of beech bark on which he had placed each one’s share of
the squirrels; “but it’s better than nothing. Who is going to feed our
friend here?”
“Untie my hands, and I’ll feed myself,” the prisoner replied. “I won’t
trouble none on you.”
“Now, I’ll tell you what’s the matter,” said Sandy; “’tain’t the least
trouble in the world. If we should untie your hands, you might jump up
an’ run out in the rain, an’ get wet ag’in; an’ that would be redikilis.
I’ll tend to him, fellers.”
Sandy seated himself beside the prisoner, and our cook, having passed
around the pieces of bark, we fell to work in earnest.
In a very few minutes the last bone had been picked clean, and we sat
looking wistfully at our empty “plates,” as if half expecting to see
them filled up again in some mysterious manner; but as nothing of the
kind happened, we threw them into the fire, and once more stretching
ourselves out on the leaves, listened in a dreamy sort of way to the
rain and sleet pattering on the roof.
“Don’t go to sleep yet, boys,” said Duke, seeing that some of us began
to blink and nod at the fire, as if recognizing in it an old
acquaintance. “I have something to say to you.”
As he said this, he crawled into the furthest corner of the shanty, and
we followed and gathered about him.
I believed that what he was about to say had some reference to Luke
Redman, and the latter must have thought so, too, for he watched us with
a great deal of interest.
“I reckon I know what you’re goin’ to talk about,” said he, with a
laugh, “an’ I tell you now, as I told you afore, that you’ll never take
me to the settlement. I’ll bet a hoss that things’ll be changed here
afore long.”
“What do you think of that, fellows?” asked Duke, in a low whisper.
“I think he wants to hear himself talk, and that we have no cause for
alarm,” said I.
“That’s my opinion,” observed Herbert. “If he is depending on the Swamp
Dragoons to rescue him, he’ll be disappointed, for they never could
follow our trail through the woods on a night like this.”
“An’ s’pose they did? I don’t reckon they’d make much,” declared Sandy.
“Thar’s six of them, an’ only five of us, but we’re the best men.”
“Well, shall we go on to the settlement, or stay here?” asked Duke.
“Oh, stay here, by all means,” we answered, with one accord; adding,
with a shiver, as we looked out into the darkness, and thought of that
dreary ride through the swamp, that under no ordinary circumstances
could we be induced to get into our saddles again that night.
There was no necessity for it. We were as comfortable in our camp as we
would have been at headquarters, and as safe, too; for, as far as an
attack from the Swamp Dragoons was concerned, that was all in Luke
Redman’s eye. Barney and his followers were not courageous enough to
attempt such a thing; but, in order to make “assurance doubly sure,” it
might be well to put out pickets.
“That’s a good idea,” said Duke, glancing at his watch, the hands of
which pointed to midnight. “If there are no objections, I’ll stand guard
first, and at the end of an hour I’ll call—whom?”
“Call me,” said I.
“All right. It shall be the duty of the pickets to keep the fire
burning, to watch the prisoner closely, and to see that he does not find
means to effect his escape, and to make the round of the camp at least
three times during the hour. It is a wet job,” said Duke, looking out at
the rain and sleet, which were coming down as fiercely as ever; “but we
shall all feel safer for it. It wouldn’t look well for us to go back to
the settlement without our prisoner, after working so hard to secure
him.”
“Wal,” said Luke Redman, seeing that the consultation was ended, “what
are you goin’ to do?”
“We think some of staying here until morning. Any objections?”
“Nary one. I’m monstrous glad on’t, ’cause my boys will be along this
way directly. If some on you gets your heads broke, you mustn’t blame me
fur it. I told you to turn me loose, an’ you wouldn’t do it.”
We made no reply to Luke Redman’s threats, but showed him by our looks
that we were not at all concerned. We examined his bonds, to satisfy
ourselves that they were secure, and then crawled back to our places by
the fire—all except Duke, who pulled his collar up around his ears,
turned down the brim of his hat, and walked out into the storm.
A few minutes afterward, I heard him talking to his horse, and that was
the last I remembered until a hand was laid on my shoulder and a voice
whispered in my ear that it was one o’ clock and time for me to go on
guard.
I raised myself on my elbow, and, looking about me, saw that the aspect
of things had changed considerably during the hour I had been asleep.
The rain and sleet had turned to snow, the trees and bushes were loaded
with it, and the air was filled with the rapidly-falling flakes. If you
have ever had any experience in this line, you know there is no fun in
turning out of a warm bed to stand picket in a snow-storm.
“Is every thing all right?” I asked, glancing toward the prisoner, who
was as wide awake as he had been an hour ago.
“Yes, so far, all’s well. But there’s one thing I don’t exactly like,
and that is the way Luke Redman conducts himself. He has been seen
sitting up ever since I have been on guard listening with all the ears
he’s got, and acting as though he was expecting some one. Keep your eyes
open, Joe, and give the signals of distress the instant you see the
least sign of danger.”
As Duke stretched himself out on the leaves I picked up his hunting-horn
and walked out of the shanty. I threw an armful of wood on the fire and
turned to look at the prisoner.
“Oh, I am safe enough yet,” said he, as I examined the straps with which
his arms were confined, “but I won’t be so long. Thar’s somethin’ goin’
to happen, if you only knowed it.”
“Let it happen,” I replied. “If the Swamp Dragoons show their faces
about here, they’ll get the best dressing down they ever heard of.” I
walked off without waiting to hear what Luke Redman had to say in reply,
and started to make the circuit of the camp, keeping a good lookout on
all sides and stopping now and then to listen.
I neither saw nor heard any thing suspicious; and after stumbling about
among the bushes for ten minutes, I reached the spot from which I had
started on my round.
Taking up a position a short distance from the fire, where I could
distinctly see every move made by our prisoner, I leaned against the
trunk of a giant oak, which effectually protected me from the storm, and
went off into a reverie, from which I was suddenly aroused by a sound
that alarmed me not a little.
It was the angry growl of a dog, which ended very abruptly, and with a
hoarse, gurgling sound, as if the animal’s throat had been grasped by a
strong hand. I turned quickly, and looking in the direction from which
the sound came, saw a head disappear behind a log, not more than twenty
feet distant.
I was sure I could not be mistaken; and in order to satisfy myself on
that point, I sprang to the log and looked over it. One glance was
enough. I gave the signals of distress with all the power of my lungs,
and then faced about and ran toward the camp at the top of my speed.