THE TABLES TURNED.
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 that 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 tree 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 rise 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,
when 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, all 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 here 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.
“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 their 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 fellows 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, carrying 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 I 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.