XLV.

_MASTER AND SLAVE CHANGE PLACES._

The sergeant and his men were several rods distant: the bush through

which that menacing visage peered was within as many feet. Augustus

reached for his revolver.

"Make a single move--speak a single word--and you are food for the

buzzards!" came a whisper from the bush that well might chill his blood.

"You know this rifle--and you know me!" And in the negro's face shone a

persuasive glitter of the old, untamable, torrid ferocity of his

tribe--not pleasing to Augustus.

"What do you want?"

"Give your revolver to that girl--instantly!"

"I have men within call!"

"So have I."

Through the bush, advancing noiselessly, came the straight steel barrel

of a rifle that had never missed fire but once: that was when it had

been aimed by Augustus at the head of Pomp. Now it was aimed by Pomp at

the head of Augustus; and it was hardly to be expected that it would be

so obliging as to remember that one fault, and, for the sake of

fairness, repeat it, now that positions were reversed. Bythewood

hesitated, in mortal fear.

"Obey me! I shall not speak again!"

And there was heard in the bush another slight noise, too short, quick,

and clicking, to be the crackle of a twig. Neither was that pleasing to

the mind of Augustus. He turned, and with trembling hand made Virginia a

present of the revolver.

"Do you know how to use it?" Pomp asked. She nodded, breathless. "And

you will use it if necessary?" She nodded again, and held the weapon

prepared. "Now,"--to Bythewood,--"send those men away."

"What do you mean to do?"

"I mean to spare their lives and yours, if you obey me. To kill you

without much delay if you do not."

"If you shoot,"--Bythewood was beginning to regain his dignity,--"they

will rush to the spot before you can escape, and avenge me well!"

A superb, masterful smile mounted to the ebon visage, and the answer

came from the bush,--

"Look where the bowlder lies, up there by the ravine. You will see a

twinkle of steel among the leaves. There are guns aimed at your men. You

understand."

Perhaps Augustus did not distinguish the guns; but he understood. At a

signal, his men would be shot down.

"I would prefer not to shed blood. So decide and that quickly!" said

Pomp.

"And if I comply?"

"Comply readily with all I shall demand of you, and not a hair of

your head shall be harmed. Now I count ten. At the word ten, I send

a bullet through your heart if those men are still there." He

commenced, like one telling the strokes of a tolling bell:

"One----two----three----four----five----"

"Sergeant," called Augustus, "take your men and report to Lieutenant

Ropes at the sink."

"A fine time to be taken up with a love affair!" growled the sergeant,

as he obeyed.

"Now what?" said Bythewood, under an air of bravado concealing the

despair of his heart.

"Come!" said Pomp, with savage impatience,--for he knew well that, if

Bythewood had not yet learned of Ropes's death, messengers must be on

the way to him, and therefore not a moment was to be lost. He opened the

bushes. Augustus crept into them: Virginia followed. But then suddenly

the negro seemed to change his plans, the spirit and firmness of the

girl inspiring him with a fresh idea.

"Miss Villars, we are going to the cave. Look down the ravine

there;--you see this path is rough."

"O, I can go anywhere, you know!"

"But haste is necessary. You shall return the way you came. Take this

man with you. If you are seen by his soldiers, they will think all is

well. Make him go before. Shoot him if he turns his head. Dare you?"

"I will!" said Virginia.

"Keep near the ravine. My rifle will be there. If you have any

difficulty, I will end it. Now march!"--thrusting Bythewood out of the

thicket.--"Straight on!--Carry your pistol cocked, young lady!"

Bitterly then did the noble Augustus repent him of having sent his guard

away: "I ought to have died first!" But it was too late to recall them;

and there was no way left him but to yield--or appear to yield--implicit

obedience.

What a situation for a son of the chivalrous south! He had reviled

Lysander for having been made prisoner by a boy; and here was he, the

haughty, the proud, the ambitious, overawed by a negro's threats, and

carried away captive by a girl! However, he had a hope--a desperate one,

indeed. He would watch for an opportunity, wheel suddenly upon Virginia,

seize the pistol, and escape,--risking a shot from it, which he knew she

was firmly determined to deliver in case of need (for had he not seen

the soldier's gashed wrist?)--and risking also (what was more serious

still) a shot from the rifle in the ravine.

But when they came to the bowlder, there the resolution he had taken

fell back leaden and dead upon his heart. He had, on reflection,

concluded that the twinkle of guns in the leaves there was but a fiction

of the wily African brain. As he passed, however, he perceived two guns

peeping through. He knew not what exultant hearts were behind

them,--what eager eyes beneath the boughs were watching him, led thus

tamely into captivity; but he was impressed with a wholesome respect for

them, and from that moment thought no more of escape.

As Virginia approached the cave with her prisoner, the two guns, having

followed them closely all the way, came up out of the ravine. They were

accompanied by Penn and Carl. In the gladness of that sight Virginia

almost forgot her dead sister and her captive father. Those two dear

familiar faces beamed upon her with joy and triumph. But there was one

who was not so glad. This Quaker schoolmaster, turned fighting man, was

the last person Augustus (who was unpleasantly reminded of the

conversation under the bridge) would have wished to see under such

embarrassing circumstances.

In the cave was Toby, wailing over the dead body of Salina. But at sight

of the living sister he rose up and was comforted.

Pomp had remained to cover the retreat. When all were safely arrived, he

came bounding into the cave, jubilant. His bold and sagacious plans were

thus far successful; and it only remained to carry them out with the

same inexorable energy.

"Sit here." Augustus took one of the giant's stools. "I have a few words

to say to this man: in the mean while, one of you"--turning to Penn and

Carl--"hasten to the sink, and ask Stackridge to send me as many men as

he can spare. Bring a couple of the prisoners--we shall need them."

"I'll go!" Carl cried with alacrity.

"And," added Pomp, "if there are any wounded needing my assistance, have

them brought here. I shall not, probably, be able to go to them."

While he was giving these directions, with the air of one who felt that

he had a momentous task before him, Bythewood sat on the rock, his head

heavy and hot, his feet like clods of ice, and his heart collapsing with

intolerable suspense. The gloom of the cave, and the strangeness of all

things in it; the sight of the corpse near the entrance,--of Toby, at

Virginia's suggestion, wiping up the pools of blood,--Virginia herself

perfectly calm; Penn carefully untying and straightening the pieces of

rope that had served to bind Lysander,--all this impressed him

powerfully.

"I suppose," said he, "I am to be treated as a prisoner of war."

Pomp smiled. "Answer me a question. If you had caught me, would you have

treated me as a prisoner of war?--Yes or no; we have no time for

parley."

"No," said Augustus, frankly.

"Very well! I have caught you!"

Fearfully significant words to the prisoner, who remembered all his

injustice to this man, and the tortures he had prepared for him when he

should be taken! But he had not been taken. On the contrary, he, the

slave, could stand there, calm and smiling, before him, the master, and

say, with peculiar and compressed emphasis, "_Very well! I have caught

you!_"

"You promised that not a hair of my head should be injured."

"The hair of your head is not the flesh of your body. No, I will not

injure _the hair_!"--Pomp waited for his prisoner to take in all the

horrible suggestiveness of this equivocation; then resumed. "Is not that

what you would have said to me if you had found me in your power after

making me such a promise? The black man has no rights which the white

man is bound to respect! The most solemn pledges made by one of your

race to one of mine are to be heeded only so long as suits your

convenience. Did you not promise your dying brother in your presence to

give me my freedom? Answer,--yes or no."

"Yes," faltered Augustus.

"And did you give it me?"

"No." And Augustus felt that out of his own mouth he was condemned.

"Well, I shall keep my promise better than you kept yours. Comply with

all I demand of you (this is what I said), and no part of you, neither

flesh nor hair, shall be harmed."

"What do you demand of me?"

"This. Here are pen and ink. Write as I dictate."

"What?"

"An order to have the fighting on your side discontinued, and your

forces withdrawn."

Augustus hesitated to take the pen.

"I have no words to waste. If you do not comply readily with what I

require, it is no object for me that you should comply at all."

Penn came and stood by Pomp, looking calm and determined as he. Virginia

came also, and looked upon the prisoner, without a smile, without a

frown, but strangely serious and still. These were the three against

whom he had sinned in the days of his power and pride; and now his shame

was bare before them. He took the quill, bit the feather-end of it in

supreme perplexity of soul, then wrote.

"Very well," said Pomp, reading the order. "But you have forgotten to

sign it." Augustus signed. "Now write again. A letter to your colonel.

Mr. Hapgood, please dictate the terms."

Penn understood the whole scheme; he had consulted with Virginia, and he

was prepared.

"A safe conduct for Mr. Villars, his daughter and servants, beyond the

confederate lines. This is all I have to insist upon."

"I," said Pomp, "ask more. The man who betrayed us must be sent here."

"If you mean Sprowl," said Bythewood, "his wife has no doubt saved the

trouble."

"Not Sprowl, but Deslow."

Bythewood was terrified. Pomp had spoken with the positiveness of clear

knowledge and unalterable determination. But how was it possible to

comply with his demand? Deslow had been promised not only pardon, but

protection from the very men he betrayed! Therefore he could not be

given up to them without the most cowardly and shameful perfidy.

"I have no influence whatever with the military authorities," the

prisoner said, after taking ample time for consideration.

"You forget what you boasted to Sprowl, under the bridge," said Penn.

"You forget what you just now boasted to me," said Virginia.

"Call it boasting," said Bythewood, doggedly. "Absolutely, I have not

the power to effect what you require."

"It is your misfortune, then," said Pomp. "To have boasted so, and now

to fail to perform, will simply cost you your life. Will you write? or

not?"

The prisoner remained sullen, abject, silent, for some seconds. Then,

with a deep breath which shook all his frame, and an expression of the

most agonizing despair on his face, he took the pen.

"I will write; but I assure you it will do no good."

"So much the worse for you," was the grim response.

Mechanically and briefly Bythewood drew up a paper, signed his name, and

shoved it across the table.

"Does that suit you?"

Pomp did not offer to take it.

"If it suits you, well. I shall not read it. It is not the letter that

interests us; it is the result."

Bythewood suddenly drew back the paper, pondered its contents a moment,

and cast it into the fire.

"I think I had better write another."

"I think so too. I fear you have not done what you might to impress upon

the colonel's mind the importance of these simple terms--a safe conduct

for Mr. Villars and family, the troops withdrawn entirely from the

mountains, and Deslow delivered here to-night. This is plain enough; and

you see the rest of us ask nothing for ourselves. I advise you to write

freely. Open your mind to your friend. And beware,"--Pomp perceived by a

strange expression which had come into the prisoner's face that this

counsel was necessary,--"beware that he does not misunderstand you, and

send a force to rescue you from our hands. If such a thing is attempted,

this cave will be found barricaded. With what, you wonder? With those

stones? With your dead body, my friend!"

After that hint, it was evident Augustus did not choose to write what

had first entered his mind on learning that his address to the colonel

was not to be examined. Penn handed him a fresh sheet, and he filled

it--a long and confidential letter, of which we regret that no copy now

exists.

Before it was finished, Carl returned, accompanied by four of the

patriots and two of the prisoners. One of these last was Pepperill. He

was immediately paroled, and sent off to the sink with the order that

had been previously written. The letter completed, it was folded,

sealed, and despatched by the other prisoner to Colonel Derring's

head-quarters.

"Do you believe Deslow will be delivered up?" said Stackridge, in

consultation with Penn in a corner of the cave; the farmer's gray eye

gleaming with anticipated vengeance.

"I believe the confederate authorities, as a general thing, are capable

of any meanness. Their policy is fraud, their whole system is one of

injustice and selfishness. If Derring, who is Bythewood's devoted

friend, can find means to give up the traitor without too gross an

exposure of his perfidy, he will do it. But I regret that Pomp insisted

on that hard condition. He was determined, and it was useless to reason

with him."

"And he is right!" said Stackridge. "Deslow, if guilty, must pay for

this day's work!"

"There is no doubt of his guilt. Pepperill knew of it--he whispered it

to Pomp at the sink."

"Then Deslow dies the death! He was sworn to us! He was sworn to

Pomp; and Pomp had saved his life! The blood of Withers, my best

friend----" The farmer's voice was lost in a throe of rage and grief.

"And the blood of Cudjo, whom Pomp loved!" said Penn. "I feel all you

feel--all Pomp feels. But for me, I would leave vengeance with the

Lord."

"So would I," said Pomp, standing behind him, composed and grand. "And I

would be the Lord's instrument, when called. I am called. Deslow comes

to me, or I go to him."

"Then the Lord have mercy on his soul!"