TOM IS ASTONISHED.
When the Swamp Dragoons reached the place where I was standing, they
gathered about me, and looked inquiringly at Tom Mason, as if waiting
for him to say something. The latter advanced with a grin on his
countenance, peered sharply into my face, and then looked at me from
head to foot, as if taking my exact measure.
When he had completed his examination, he stepped back, and striking his
boots with his riding-whip, said:
“Do you remember what I told you the last time I saw you, Mark Coleman?
I said I was going to make things exceedingly lively for you this
winter, didn’t I? Well, I think I have done it. You can thank me for
every thing that has happened to you.”
“It’s him, then, is it?” exclaimed Barney. “Them fellers look as near
alike as two peas, an’ I was a’most afeared we had gobbled up the wrong
chap.”
“And so you have,” I replied. “I am not Mark Coleman, and Tom Mason
knows it very well. My name is Joe.”
“No, I reckon not,” returned Barney, with a most provoking laugh. “Tommy
has knowed you fur years an’ years, an’ so have we; an’ you can’t pull
the wool over our eyes in no sich way as that ar’!”
“You don’t know me any better than I know myself, do you? If Mark had
been in my place, you never would have captured him.”
“Wouldn’t? Why not?”
“Because he would have been too smart for you. He would have whipped you
and Jake and Jim so badly that your mothers wouldn’t know you.”
“Wal, now, we’d ’a kept the skeeters off’n him while he was a-doin’ it,”
said Jake, who was angry in an instant at the imputation I had cast upon
his prowess. “But you can jest hush up that sass, ’cause we ain’t
a-goin’ to stand it from you.”
“No, we hain’t,” chimed in Barney. “We’re a-goin’ to pay you fur it now,
an’ while we are about it, we’ll settle with you fur all the other mean
things you have done.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“Every one of us is goin’ to give you ten good licks with this yere,”
replied Barney, flourishing his riding-whip in the air. “Untie his hands
an’ pull off his jacket!”
Seventy blows with a rawhide! Wasn’t that a pleasing prospect? How would
you have felt if you had been in my place? Would you have taken the
whipping quietly?
I was fully determined that I would not. I knew that I had never done
any of the Swamp Dragoons an injury, and even if I had, they had no
right to deal out such punishment as this to me.
“That’s the idee!” said Barney, as Jake and one of his confederates
pulled off my coat after untying my hands. “Now loosen up on his feet.
That b’iled shirt o’ yourn’ll have marks on it afore we are done with
you, won’t it, Tommy?”
“That’s just what’s the matter!” replied Tom, hitting his boots another
cut with his whip. “You don’t associate with boys who steal and tell
falsehoods, do you? Ten good blows with this rawhide will pay you for
saying that!”
Why the Swamp Dragoons were so stupid as to untie my feet, when there
was no necessity for it, I do not know; but they did, and it gave me an
opportunity to fight for my liberty.
I improved it on the instant. Jake must have been astonished at the
weight of the blow that was planted squarely in his face, and so was I;
for it drove him against Tom Mason with such force that the latter was
knocked fairly off his feet.
This opened a way through the ranks of my enemies, and, before they
could lift a finger, to detain me, I had leaped over the prostrate
forms, and was running through the bushes at the top of my speed.
I was quite as much astonished at what I had done as the Swamp Dragoons
must have been.
I made the attempt at escape, not because I thought it would be
successful, but for the reason that I wished to postpone the moment of
my punishment as long as possible.
I had fully expected to be knocked down or tripped up immediately; but,
having accomplished this much, I began to hope that, aided by the
darkness, I might elude my enemies altogether.
This hope, however, was short-lived. There were Indians and bloodhounds
behind me, and in less than a minute both were on my trail.
As soon as the Swamp Dragoons found their tongues, they uttered loud
yells of surprise and alarm, and called upon the men about the fire for
assistance.
“What’s the matter over thar?” demanded the gruff voice of Luke Redman.
“Mark Coleman!” gasped the leader of the Dragoons. “We ketched him, but
he has got away. Thar he is, runnin’ through the cane like a skeered
turkey!”
“Turn your dogs loose on him!” shouted Luke. “Come, Injuns, do something
fur us!”
There was no need that Luke Redman should call upon Pete and his
companions for help. The former, at least, had reasons for wishing to
prevent my escape, and as soon as he found out what was going on, he set
up a whoop and started in pursuit.
I did not waste time in looking back at him, but my ears told me that he
was coming, and that he was gaining on me at every step.
I heard the fierce yelps the hounds gave when they found my trail, and
knew they would overtake me if the Indians did not. They might even tear
me in pieces before their masters could come up to rescue me; but
fearing the rawhide more than the teeth of the dogs, I kept straight
ahead, doing some of the best running I ever did in my life, until a
heavy hand was laid upon my collar, and I was jerked backward and thrown
upon the ground.
“Ugh!” grunted Pete. “White boy good runner—_very_ good runner; but no
match for Injun. S’pose I put dogs on him!”
The Swamp Dragoons and the bloodhounds came up at this moment, and I
feared that between them both I should be severely dealt with.
The dogs seemed determined to bite me, Jake and Tom were bent on taking
revenge on me for knocking them down, while Pete, although he at first
made some show of protecting me, was more than half inclined to allow
them to act their pleasure.
There is no telling what might have happened had it not been for Luke
Redman, whose stern voice sent the hounds cowering into the bushes, and
arrested the hands that were uplifted to strike me.
“Get out, you whelps!” he roared. “Quit your foolin’, boys. We’ve no
time to waste in settlin’ with him now. Fetch up the hosses, an’ let’s
start fur hum.”
In obedience to these commands, my captors ceased their hostile
demonstrations, and began preparations for instant departure. Barney and
Jake busied themselves in tying my hands; the rest of the Dragoons
brought up the horses belonging to the attacking party, which were
hidden in the swamp a short distance from the camp, while Pete and the
rest of the half-breeds ransacked the shanty, and took possession of the
guns, saddles and hunting-horns which our fellows had left behind them.
When every thing was ready for the start, Luke Redman, mounting Black
Bess, rode at the head of the cavalcade, and I followed at his heels, in
precisely the same situation in which the robber had been placed a few
hours before—mounted on mother’s horse, with my hands bound behind my
back.
“I told you somethin’ was a-goin’ to happen, an’ you laughed at me,”
chuckled Luke Redman. “Now you’ll see how much fun thar is in ridin’
through a thick woods with your hands tied hard an’ fast.”
I had not gone a hundred yards from the camp before I found that there
was no fun at all in it. The briers and cane were thick, and, as I could
not raise my hands to protect my face, I received more than one blow and
scratch that brought the tears to my eyes. But I made no complaint. Luke
Redman had endured it during a journey of fifteen miles, and I thought I
could endure it also.
That was my second dreary ride that night, and it was one I never wanted
to take again.
What my captors were going to do with me, and in what direction they
were traveling, I had no way of finding out, for they would not answer
my questions. All I could tell was that Luke Redman took especial pains
to avoid the clear ground, seeming to prefer the muddy and almost
impassable bottom to the high and dry ridges; and that when day dawned,
and it became light enough for me to distinguish objects about me, I
found myself in a part of the swamp I had never visited before.
“Thar!” exclaimed Luke, reining in his horse on the banks of a deep
bayou, and glancing back at the labyrinth of trees and bushes from which
we had just emerged, “I’d like to see the man who can foller our trail.
Now, Barney, you an’ Pete come here a minute.”
The persons addressed followed the robber a short distance up the bayou,
and held a long consultation with him. When it was ended, Tom Mason,
Luke Redman and the Swamp Dragoons dismounted, I was dragged out of my
saddle, and the horses we had ridden were taken in charge by Pete and
his half-breed companions, who crossed the bayou and disappeared in the
woods on the opposite bank.
Barney and his followers, in the meantime, were hunting about among the
bushes which grew along the edge of the stream, and presently a large
canoe was brought to light.
My face must have betrayed the interest with which I watched these
proceedings, for Luke Redman said:
“I’m an old fox, an’ I think I have managed this thing jest about right.
I know the men in the settlement will be arter us—I shouldn’t wonder if
they was on our trail this very minute—an’ they may succeed in follerin’
us arter all the trouble I’ve tuk to throw ’em off the scent. When they
reach this yere bayou, they’ll see that the hosses have crossed to the
other side, an’ they’ll think, in course, that we are still on their
backs; but we won’t be, ’cause we’re goin’ down stream in this yere
dug-out. They’ll foller the trail of the hosses, but they won’t make
nothin’ by it, ’cause Pete’s an Injun, an’ knows how to fool ’em.”
“Well,” said I, “since you have seen fit to explain your movements to
me, perhaps you won’t mind telling me why you are keeping me a
prisoner.”
Luke Redman rubbed his chin, and looked down at the ground in a brown
study.
“I reckon I might as well tell you now as any other time,” said he,
after a moment’s reflection. “I want to use you; that’s the reason I am
keepin’ you here. I want to use Tommy, too, an’ that’s the reason I’m
keepin’ him.”
This was the first intimation I had had of the fact that Tom Mason was
held as a prisoner, and the sudden start that young gentleman gave, and
the expression of surprise and alarm that settled on his face, told me
as plainly as words that it was news to him also. He looked earnestly at
Luke Redman, then at Barney and his companions, and said in a faltering
voice:
“I came here of my own free will, and you surely do not mean to say that
I can not go home again when I feel so disposed?”
“Yes, I do mean to say that very thing,” replied Luke, coolly. “You’re a
prisoner, same as this other feller.”
Tom staggered back as if some one had aimed a blow at him, his face grew
deathly pale, and he looked the very picture of terror. In spite of all
the trouble he had brought upon me, I pitied him from the bottom of my
heart.
For several minutes no one spoke. Tom stood staring at Luke Redman in a
sort of stupid bewilderment, as if he found it impossible to grasp the
full import of the words he had just heard, and the man leaned on the
muzzle of Sandy Todd’s shot-gun, which he had appropriated for his own
use, and stared at him in return.
“You don’t quite see through it, do you?” said the latter, at length.
“No, I don’t,” Tom almost gasped. “I can’t understand what object you
have in view in keeping me here, for I shall never reveal any of your
secrets.”
“Oh, I ain’t at all afraid of that,” laughed Luke Redman, “’cause, if
you should tell any of my secrets, I might tell some o’ yourn, which
would be bad for you. Listen, an’ I’ll tell you all about it. The money
in that carpet-sack belongs to your uncle. He don’t need it, ’cause he’s
got more than he knows what to do with; but I do need it, an’, what’s
more, I’m bound to have it. You don’t see that young Injun Jim anywhar,
do you? Wal, jest afore we left the camp whar my boys rescooed me, he
went to the settlement with a note which Barney writ to your uncle. That
note told him that if he don’t quit makin’ so much fuss about the loss
of his money, an’ give me a chance to get across the river with it,
he’ll never see you ag’in. I know he thinks a heap on you, an’ sooner
than lose you, he’ll call in the settlers, an’ give up huntin’ fur me.
Ain’t that one way to slip outen the hands of the law?”
“It will never work,” said I, indignantly. “My father is one of the
settlers, and he’ll not allow you to escape, even if General Mason does
desire it.”
“Hold on a bit!” interrupted Luke Redman. “I ain’t done talkin’ yet.
Your father will be one of the very fust to give up lookin’ fur me,
’cause I sent him a note, too, sayin’ that if he wanted to see you
ag’in, he had best go home an’ mind his own business fur one week. If he
does that, I’ll send you back to him safe an’ sound. If he don’t, I’ll
sink you so deep in the bayou that none of your fellers will ever find
you ag’in. Do you know now why I’m so sot on keepin’ you a prisoner?”
I certainly did, for Luke Redman’s scheme was perfectly clear to me. He
knew he could not show himself outside the swamp as long as the
authorities and settlers were on the watch, and he had detained Tom and
me, hoping through us to work on the fears of our friends and relatives.
If they would let him alone for one week—or, to put it in plain English,
if they would draw in the patrols who were guarding the river, and allow
him to cross into Louisiana with the eight thousand dollars—he would
return Tom and me to our homes, right side up with care; but if they
persisted in searching for him, he would put us where no one would ever
see us again.
I had never heard of so desperate a scheme before, and to say that I was
amazed would but feebly express my feelings.
While I was thinking it over, and wondering if it would succeed, Tom
recovered from his bewilderment, and showed that he could be plucky and
determined, as well as mean and cunning.
“Well, this gets ahead of me completely,” said he, in great disgust.
“This is the second trick you have played on me, Luke Redman, and I want
you to understand that I won’t put up with it—that’s all about it. If
you expect to keep me here, you are deceived for once in your life, if
you have never been before. Whenever I get ready to go home, I shall go;
and all the boys and bloodhounds and Indians in your whole gang can’t
prevent me.”
“Can’t! Wal, I’ll mighty soon show you. If you’re going to get your back
up an’ act onreasonable, we’ll have to tie you, too. Barney, take that
shootin’-iron away from him.”
The dark scowl on Tom’s face and the determined manner in which he spoke
satisfied me that he was very much in earnest, and I thought it might
prove a dangerous piece of business for Luke Redman or any of his boys
to lay violent hands on him; but to my surprise he gave up his gun
without the least show of resistance, and permitted the Dragoons to tie
his hands behind his back.
He shook his head threateningly, and kept up a rapid talking during the
whole proceeding; and I knew that if ever the opportunity was offered,
Luke Redman would suffer for his treachery.
“Thar,” said the robber, “that job’s done, and now we will start on
ag’in. But you must be blindfolded first, ’cause we’re goin’ to take you
to a place that no man, ’cept them b’longin’ to our crowd, ever looked
at.”
As he said this, he took from his pocket a dirty red handkerchief, and
tied it over my eyes so tightly that not a ray of light could reach
them.
After a few seconds’ delay, during which he was doubtless performing the
same operation for Tom, I was lifted from my feet and laid away in the
boat, as if I had been a sack of corn, and in a minute or two more I
heard the measured dip of paddles and felt the gentle motion of the
little vessel as it sped rapidly down the bayou. During the journey,
which occupied the better part of the forenoon, no one spoke, and Tom
and I were left to the companionship of our own thoughts.
That those of my fellow-prisoner were not of the most agreeable nature
was evident from the continuous muttering he kept up and the uneasy
manner in which he rolled about on the bottom of the canoe.
My own reflections were far from pleasant, for, aside from the pain
occasioned by the cramped position I was compelled to occupy, my mind
was kept in a state of anxiety and suspense that was little short of
positive torture.
I tried to think as little as possible about myself, and kept my brain
busy with other matters.
What had induced Tom Mason to become connected with this band of
outlaws? How did it come that Pete and his half-breed companions were
associated with them? Where was Luke Redman taking me? and would he
really drown me in the bayou if he were not left in quiet possession of
the eight thousand dollars?
Such questions as these, I say, occupied my mind during the journey down
the bayou; but I could not find a satisfactory answer to a single one of
them.
About noon my reflections were interrupted by the sudden stopping of the
canoe, and a movement among my captors which told me that our voyage was
ended.
I was lifted out and placed upon the bank, my feet were unbound, and,
supported by Luke Redman on one side and Barney on the other, I was led
along what appeared to be a bridle-path running through the woods.
In about ten minutes we reached a house; a door was pushed open, and I
was conducted across a floor and up a flight of creaking stairs, at the
top of which my captors stopped long enough to unlock a second door,
which led into a room that I soon found was to serve as my prison.
“Here you are!” said Luke Redman, pulling out his knife and cutting the
ropes with which my hands were confined; “an’ here you’ll stay till I
get ready to leave the country. Don’t go to raisin’ any fuss, now;
’cause if you do, I’ll send my boys up here with their rawhides.”
The door closed as the outlaw’s voice ceased, and a key grated harshly
in the lock. I listened a moment to the retreating footsteps, and then
tore the handkerchief from my eyes.
I might as well have kept them covered, however, for they were not of
the slightest use in the intense darkness which filled my prison. I
could not see my hand before me; and not daring to move about the
apartments for fear of running against something, I seated myself on the
floor, to think over my situation and wonder what was going to happen
next.
Just then I heard a slight grating noise, close at my elbow, such as
might have been made by pushing a heavy board across the floor.
This continued for a few seconds, and then little rays of light began to
stream into the room from an opening which suddenly appeared in the
wall.
I was now enabled to make an examination of my prison. I swept one hasty
glance around it, and saw that it was about ten feet square, that there
was not a single article of furniture in it, and that the walls, floor
and ceiling were formed of heavy oak planks.
When I had noted these things, I looked toward the opening again, and
found that it had increased in size sufficiently to admit the head and
shoulders of Tom Mason, who gazed all about the room, then rubbed his
eyes and looked again.
I was not glad to see him, and wondered what he might want there. If he
intended to revenge himself on me for knocking him down, he would have a
lively time of it, for I was not bound now.
“Joe,” said he, in a scarcely audible whisper.
“Why do you call me that?” I asked. “Didn’t you tell Barney that my name
was Mark?”
“I did; but I knew better all the time.”
“Well, that is as much as I care to hear from you. Don’t you dare come
in here.”
“I know you despise me, Joe, and I don’t wonder at it; but if you will
trust me this once, you will never be sorry for it. I am going to leave
these fellows this very afternoon; and if you will go with me, and stick
to me, we can take my uncle’s money with us, and Black Bess, too.”
I began to listen more attentively when I heard this. As Tom had got me
into this scrape, I saw no reason why he should not get me out of it, if
he could. The only question in my mind was whether or not I could place
any dependence on him.
He must have been able to read my thoughts, for he hastened to say:
“I don’t blame you for doubting me, Joe, but as sure as I am a prisoner
here, like yourself, I have no intention of trying to deceive you. I am
going to get you out of the hands of these outlaws, whether you are
willing or not. If you won’t go with me, I will go alone; and when I
find the settlers, I will guide them straight to this place.”
“How can you do it?” I asked. “You came here blindfolded, didn’t you?”
“Yes; but it was like locking the stable-door after the horse is stolen,
I have been here many a time, and I know this house like a book.”
“But these people are your friends, are they not? Why do you turn
against them?”
“Do you ask me that after what you heard to-day? Luke Redman went back
on me completely, and I should be something more or less than human if I
didn’t want to get even with him for that. I’d like to see him keep me
here an hour longer than I want to stay. Who do you suppose stole my
uncle’s money?” asked Tom, suddenly.
“Mr. Redman, of course.”
“Well, he didn’t. _I_ stole it.”
“Tom Mason!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t talk so loud, or you’ll bring Barney up here. It is a fact, I am
sorry to say, and the reason I took it was because I wanted to get Jerry
Lamar into trouble. In the first place, I intended to keep you and all
your friends in hot water, if I could. I found plenty of ways in which
to bother you, such as stealing your boat, robbing your traps and
shooting at your dogs, but I did not know what to do to Jerry, for he
never went hunting and owned nothing worth stealing. I happened to be up
the bayou, duck-shooting, on the morning on which uncle visited Mr.
Lamar’s house. I saw the valise in the skiff, and knowing what it
contained, I thought it would be a good plan to take it out and hide it.
I did so. I paddled across the bayou, took the money, and paddled back
again, without being seen, either by my uncle or Mr. Lamar. Jerry was
suspected of the theft, as I knew he would be, and would have been sent
to prison, if it had not been for your brother Mark.”
Tom paused, and I sat looking at him without speaking. Bad as I knew him
to be, I had never dreamed that he could descend low enough to
perpetrate an act like this.
His confession revealed a depth of depravity that Luke Redman himself
would have been ashamed of; and when I thought how narrowly Jerry had
escaped being the victim of his cowardly vindictiveness, I had half a
mind to pull him through the window into my prison, and give him the
worst drubbing he ever had in his life.
I believe I should have done something to him, had I not at that moment
heard a step on the stairs.
“Somebody’s coming,” whispered Tom. “I have more to tell you, if you
have the patience to listen to it, and will see you again directly.”
As he said this, he drew back from the window and pushed the board to
its place, leaving me in total darkness.