sound of a galloping horse reached my ear, and turning, I discovered
Moth coming toward me at full speed. As I stood gazing, unable to move,
scarce to breathe, another horseman, turning into the road from the
overhanging shrubbery, followed on. Wondering idly whether he were a
confederate or some one in waiting, my senses came back to me, and
turning, I plunged without thought into the tangled undergrowth that
bordered the road where I stood. As I did so Moth called my name, but
not regarding it, I hastened on, seeking only to pursue a course he
could neither trace nor follow. When I had gone some distance in this
distracted way, the report of a pistol reached me, followed a moment
later by another discharge. Startled anew, I hurried on, and faster
than before, not knowing what it meant, nor caring, so that I might only
hide myself in the forest depths. Thus I ran, always in the direction
of the deep woods, making such haste as I could, often falling, but
paying little heed if I but made some headway. In this way I came at
last upon an opening in the trees, and here I stopped and threw myself
upon the ground, worn out with fatigue and the fear that had oppressed
me. When I was somewhat rested it was already growing dark, so that I
could not retrace my steps had I desired. This, however, I had no
thought of doing; the forest hid me, and I welcomed its solitude and
deepening shadows as a cover under which I was secure. Looking about
me, in the center of the opening a giant sycamore reared its height far
above the surrounding trees. Dead and glistening white, its extended
limbs, long since fallen, had left an opening to the sky, and about this
the trees reached out their arms like beggars seeking alms. On the edge
of the cleared space, and as a tracing to the picture, shrubs and wild
raspberries grew, and dense, so as to form an impassable barrier save
where I stood.
Beside the dead tree, whence I could see the overhanging sky, I
determined to pass the night; and hastening ere darkness set in, I
gathered a handful of berries, and placing them beside my little store
of food, sat down in happy contentment to my evening meal. Ere this was
finished, darkness had closed in, and fatigued with the events of the
day and what had gone before, I stretched my body on the soft grass with
the dead sycamore for a pillow. Looking up as I lay outstretched, the
sky, which was before clear, had now become overcast, gray, filmy clouds
scattering themselves across its face like puffs of steam, and seeming
to fly rather than float in the summer air. Nor was this the only
change. The treetops, no longer still, gave forth faint murmurings,
swaying and curtesying to each other as if in welcome or expectancy of
some coming event. The wind rising as I gazed, filled the air with
fitful meanings, not unlike fear, and soon flying leaves and bits of
wood tossed from the swaying trees, falling on my face, gave notice that
the storm was gaining in strength. The moan of the forest as the wind
whipped the branches of the trees presently rose into wild uproar, like
the mad rush of multitudes of men. Then, as if worn out with the
effort, it would die away into pitiful murmurings, only to spring up
again a moment later with greater fury than before. Thus as I watched,
the storm came on with ever-increasing tumult and confusion of sounds,
but orderly and in sequence, like a great orchestra getting under way.
The whirl and roar of the wind as the rising tempest swept the impeding
forest in no wise disturbed my repose, but soothed, rather, both my body
and mind. Now again I was once more at Wild Plum, and listening, as in
childhood, to the woods and the voices of the air and the night.
No feature of Nature's storehouse, it may be said, is so full of
grandeur and expectancy as a storm in the forest. A scourge, maybe, but
not in the sense of punishment, but of playfulness and reviving life! A
carnival of the air, a frolicking of the atoms, where moderation gives
place to fantasies and all the world joins in the fullness of life!
Many, I know, do not look upon such things with any pleasure, but for
the most part all such are city born, and not used to wide expanses
where the wind is free to work its will, nor cumbered about with the
devices of men that serve to stay its strength and hinder its progress.
To such, storms are fraught with direful happenings, in which the wind
and lightning are dreaded agents; but not so do those who are country
bred look upon the tempest. Nor did I, but lay with upturned face,
harkening to each sound as if it conveyed some form of speech, which I
have no doubt it did.
In a little while, and as couriers might carry the news, flashes of
lightning shone through the trees and spun out across the open sky until
presently the wide expanse of heaven was ablaze with the reflected
light. Counting from these to the thunder that followed, I kept track
in idle curiosity of the storm as it approached. Nor was it long
delayed, but came on, preceded by flurries of rain, which the wind,
catching up, whipped into shreds of mist and spray. At last, as if
satisfied with the preparation made for its coming, the storm burst, and
not lightly, as it sometimes does, but deluging the earth with water and
overspreading the sky with masses of phosphorescent light and deep
reverberating thunder. Rising to my feet, I sought shelter behind the
great tree, harkening to the wild roar of the tempest as it swept past,
echoing and reechoing through the forest like the beating of the ocean
on some rockbound coast. In the midst of this, and confusing, a sound
as of booming cannon caught my ear. Listening, I thought it the cry of
a wild beast, but in a moment, catching the direction more clearly,
found it came from the hollow of the great tree beside which I stood.
Thus the night wore on, the rain after a while dying away, but the wind,
as if in recompense, increasing each moment in violence, its wild
shrieking and the mad rush of the trees as they bent this way and that
rising and falling like no sound that man can describe or imitate. For
in such things Nature claims its sole prerogative, and strive as we may,
we cannot in any way mimic its voices or varying moods.
Entertained as one bred in the city might be at a play, I neither sought
nor desired sleep; but as the storm reached its climax a tremor shook my
frame and fear laid hold of me, as if some great and pressing danger
threatened. Of what nature, however, or from whence, I could not tell,
for in no way were the sounds that reached me different from those I had
heard before. What was it, then? Some instinct of life that cried out
within me, or a voice of the night that bade me beware! Listening, I
could distinguish nothing, nor make aught of my fear. Weak and scarce
able to stand, I reached out my hand to steady myself against the great
tree, and doing so, found it rocking in the storm like a gigantic
pendulum turned bottom side up. This it was, then, that had caused my
tremblings. Its silent movements, unnoticed in the darkness of the
night, had yet in some mysterious way conveyed a note of warning, and I,
as if it were some kindred spirit, had felt its vibrations, and so was
filled with fear. Conscious the tree was about to fall, I drew back, but
unable to make out the direction it would take, I stood still, not
knowing which way to turn. At last, guided by the storm, I sprang to
one side, and then, as if only awaiting my movements, the great tree,
leaning more and more, fell with a mighty crash on the spot where I had
stood. Outstretched before me, it lay like some huge animal, its
glistening trunk towering far above my head. Seeing it, a cry of terror
burst from my lips, and throwing myself on my face, I gave thanks to God
for my escape from death.
Rising to my feet after a while, I looked about to find the storm, as if
only awaiting the overthrow of the great tree, had died away, and the
moon coming out full and clear, cast its peaceful light over the silent
glade. Seeking some spot not drenched with rain where I might pass the
night, the hollow of the fallen tree, like some great cavern partly
lighted, loomed before me. Here I determined to find a bed, and
entering its secure depths, stretched my weary body on its smooth
surface, and in a moment was lost in dreams of Constance and Little
Sandy.
*CHAPTER XXVII*
*IN THE TIGER'S MOUTH*
When I awoke the sun was high in the heavens and the air filled with the
songs of birds and the sweet fragrance of the woods. Lying still and
resting, in no mood to move, I looked out on the world from a great
fissure in the side of the tree where I had made my bed. Far off in the
ambient air, and immovable, an eagle pinioned, as if pondering on the
great tree's overthrow. Near by and alert, a bluejay uttered its
discordant cries, and on a projecting limb, almost within my hand, a
squirrel sat upright, rubbing his nose and looking down in wonder on the
fallen monarch. Thus outstretched, and with no thought of stirring, a
noise reached me from the opening of the tree, and sitting up, I saw my
bundle tossed this way and that by a cub no bigger than a three-months'
puppy. This at first in play, but by and by coming on the odor of the
food, the youngster's mood changed, and it tore at the package as if
ravenous with hunger. Seeing this, I sprang out, and grasping the brute
by the neck, threw it to one side. In no way hurt, it yet uttered a
doleful cry, as these animals will. Not regarding its complainings in
any way, I busied myself putting my bundle to rights, until presently,
the cries continuing, they were answered by a fierce growl from the
opening of the glade. Looking in the direction from whence it came, I
saw a huge bear coming toward me, half uprisen, her teeth showing white
and cruel against the deep color of her blood-red mouth. Transfixed, I
fell to trembling, for of escape I could see no way, save that from
which the brute came on, dense undergrowth barring the road and making
flight impossible, even if I could have hoped to outstrip the fierce
creature. While thus bewildered, not knowing what to do, the hollow of
the tree where I had passed the night caught my eye, and with the sight
hope revived in my heart. For there at least the brute might not dare
to follow. Thinking thus, I sprang into the opening, but the enraged
animal, after smelling about as if fearing a trap, being assured,
followed resolutely on. Seeing this, I hurried forward, at first
upright, and then stooping, and finally on my hands and knees. As the
tree contracted and my progress was lessened, I could feel the breath of
the savage animal stir my hair, while her angry growls filled my ears as
if she were already upon me. Glancing back, I saw her some way off, but
coming on slowly and as if in fear of being caught in the tree. At this
I sought to crowd myself forward where she could not come, but presently
the opening becoming contracted, so that I could make no further
headway, I knew not what to do. Now, indeed, hope died within me, and
no longer able to look back or scarce move my body, I lay still,
listening to the deep breathing of the animal as it came steadily toward
me. At last in an agony of fear I put forth all my strength anew, and
to my great joy the walls of the tree, which had before been hard and
unyielding, now crumbled and fell apart under the pressure of my
outstretched hands. While thus striving to make some headway, light
broke in on my prison, and looking forward, I was gladdened by the sight
of an opening a few feet away, caused by the breaking of the tree in its
fall.
Cheered by what I saw, I struggled forward with new courage, making a
way, sometimes with my hands, but more often with my head and face. In
this manner I at last reached the opening; but now, when safety seemed
assured, my strength left me, and I lay as one dead, unable to move or
cry aloud. Regaining some mastery over myself after a time, I dragged my
body through the opening, my garments torn and my face and hands
dripping with blood. This I did not much regard, and revived by the
cool air and the thought that I was free, my strength came back, and
from lying unable to stir I had now no fear at all. Stooping down, I
looked into the opening, and fortunate it was, for the fierce brute,
discovering my escape, was already backing from the tree. Frightened
anew at this, I stuck my face into the opening, and cried out in rage,
as if daring the creature to come on. At this she stopped, and after a
moment, answering my challenge with an angry growl, started anew in my
direction. Coming a little way, she stopped again, and despite my
cries, turned back. At this, observing her cub, and scarce knowing what
I did, I ran and caught it in my arms, and returning, thrust it into the
narrow opening, wrenching its limbs to make it cry with pain. No sooner
had I done this than the mother turned back, growling in fierce anger
and tearing at the sides of the tree with her teeth and claws in vain
effort to reach her offspring. Seeing this, I fell to beating the poor
thing with all my strength, so as to make it cry the louder. When,
however, some time had passed and the bear could make no further
headway, and made as if she would turn back, I thrust the cub far into
the opening, and giving it a cruel stroke, left it there.
Hastening to the spot where my bundle lay, I snatched it up, and
turning, fled through the opening of the glade into the forest beyond.
Overcome with fear, and not regarding the direction I took, I ran on,
looking back with each step to see if I were followed. At last, worn
out with fatigue and hunger, I could go no farther, and throwing myself
on the ground, burst into a paroxysm of tears. Now indeed was I
forlorn. Lost in the forest and beset by wild beasts, what danger might
I not fear! Thus I lay, until at last, rested and reassured, I rose to
my feet. Above my head as I looked up the spreading trees, serene and
calm, bent over me with steadfast gaze, and as if in pity and tender
sympathy. Listening, I heard in their soft murmurings, melodies I knew,
sweet sounds that might be the voices of angels watching over the lost
of earth or guarding their departing souls to the portals of Heaven
above. Comforted, I went forward, and in a little while, coming to a
meandering stream, took off my torn clothes, and casting them aside,
cleansed myself in its limpid waters. Putting on new garments, I looked
about for some place to eat my morning meal, and this I saw a little way
off, beside a trickling spring, rimmed about with flowers and verdant
mosses. On its edge, as I approached, a thrush refreshed himself in its
cool depths, and waiting till he was gone, I took out my store of food,
and sitting down beside the sparkling water, ate my fill. Then burying
my face in its depths, I arose, and put the little food I had remaining
in my pocket, and refreshed and hopeful, started on my way.
Now the trees took on a brighter look, and swaying and curtesying this
way and that as I went forward, seemed as if pointing the direction I
should go. Striving to follow some given course, noon passed, and so
the afternoon, without sign of man or any clew to guide me. At last, as
night approached, my strength failed me; and now the birds, as if in
sympathy with my mood, no longer fluttered their gay plumage, but flew
back and forth in the gathering twilight, swiftly and silently hastening
to their hiding-place for the night. In the open before me, however,
and as if to cheer my solitude, a thrasher flew forward, and at
intervals, running on, looked back, saying as in words: "Come on; this
is your road." At last, its mission done or tiring with the effort, it
flew away, and I saw it no more. Watching its flight, the treetops
still reflected back the hue of the departing sun, and midway in their
height some trace of yellow was yet to be seen, but near the ground were
already black as night with the fast-gathering shadows. At this moment,
when hope was dead within me, I came, and without thought, upon a beaten
road, but whether that which I had left the night before or not I did
not know nor care. Elated, my strength returned, and sitting down I took
what food I had and ate it, thankful for so much, and without thought of
the morrow. Strengthened, I started afresh, but in what direction I
could not tell. Thus I went on till the moon arose, but without sight
of man or house. Nor was there sound of any kind, save the sighing of
the forest, all Nature sleeping as if in recompense for the debauch of
the previous night. Going forward, cheerful of heart, I was not much
surprised when a light flashed out before me, and then another and
another. Pushing on, I came after a while upon a little village of huts
scattered along the highway, some near the road and others farther off.
Peering through the window of the first I came to, in hopeful expectancy
of food and lodging, a comely woman, large, and fine of face, sat on a
bench, her children gathered about her kneeling at their evening
prayers. Of room, however, there was scarce enough to swing a cat, and
this so crowded as not to afford place for another; and so, with a
longing look at the little group, I went on to the house beyond. Here
there were only three children, as I could plainly see, but as if the
saving had been known in advance, the place was made to fit, and so
there was no room for more. The next house, dark and forbidding, gave
back no response to my knocking, and so I went on to the fourth, a
little hut standing close beside the road. Here there was sickness, and
though they bade me stay, I could not find it in my heart to thus
obtrude myself upon their gentle hospitality. At the hut beyond they
would have welcomed me, but a guest already filled the space, and so
they could offer me no place where I could lie.
In this way I went on, now somewhat depressed, till I reached the
extremity of the little village, and here I came upon a building, larger
than the others, and standing back from the road, as if courting greater
privacy. A dull light showed in its single window, but high up, so that
I could not scan the interior as I had the others. Hearing voices, I
knocked, confident of a welcome, so imposing was the structure. For a
moment silence followed my summons, and then a voice bade me enter.
Lifting the latch, I opened the door and went in; but entering, no one
spoke nor said aught of welcome as I stood looking about me. Of the
room, it was the size of the building, and without furniture of any
kind, save a bench that ran beside the wall. On this I presently made
out two men, for of light there was none save from a lantern that stood
on the floor, clouded with dirt and smoke. This I thought strange; but
more surprising still, a man, half-sitting, half-reclining, in the
farther corner of the room, his legs securely fastened to a huge ring
fixed in the floor. Startled, I turned about and would have fled, but
one of the men, who had been seated, springing between me and the door,
cried out:
"Gilbert Holmes! by all the gods of Greece and Rome!"
Hearing him, I needed nothing more to tell me it was Moth; and alas! he
barred the way--and of exit there was no other. Seeing this, I stood
still, looking into his face, my own aflame with anger and shame.
"Thank you, my lad, for saving me further trouble," he went on, with
sarcastic glee. "I have had many setbacks lately, but things at last
seem to be coming my way. A robber and a runaway in twenty-four hours
will do pretty well for an amateur. One I capture, and the other comes
to me of his own accord. Yes, I am certainly in luck"; and Moth
chuckled, as if fortune was at last favoring him beyond all other men.
"Come, my lad," he continued, after a moment's pause, seeing I did not
speak; "do not stand there dumb, but tell me what good fortune brings
you into my hands."
"It's not that I want to see you," I answered, at a loss whether to
answer him or no.
"Of course not, my dear. You have not shown any liking for my company,
I am sorry to say, though I mean you no harm. But I hope it will be
different hereafter," he answered, leering at me.
"It will not, sir! You have no right to pursue me, and I will never go
with you; I'll die first."
"Oh, yes, you will! And I will not let you get away again, either," he
answered, confidently.
"You can't fasten me so I'll not escape. I'd kill you if I couldn't get
away without," I answered, my anger passing all bounds.
"You would, would you, you little devil! But what I want is for the
best, and go back with me you shall," he answered, determinedly, and as
if that ended the matter.
"I say I'll not--never! You think me a child, and I was, but you have
made me something more. Don't come near me! I'll never let you take me
alive!" I screamed, as he took a step in my direction, my anger growing
to white heat.
"Tut, tut, child! Do not fly into such a passion. Listen to reason. I
am not going to harm you," he replied, soothingly.
"What is all this about, anyway?" the man who had been seated beside
Moth here interposed, coming forward and holding the lantern aloft so as
to see me the better. "Good God! lad, what is the matter with your
face?" he went on. "You look as if you had been run over by a harrow."
"It was scratched in the woods," I replied, quieting down.
"Why, it is seamed and slashed like a piece of raw meat. No, no, the
brush never did that, lad!" he went on, examining it more carefully.
"It's nothing, sir, and will be all right in the morning," I answered.
"Maybe, but for fear I'll rub some salve on it to help it along," he
answered; and going to a small cupboard, brought back a cup of grease,
which he smeared over my face. "There, that will do for to-night, and in
the morning I will dress it again."
"You are foolish to waste grease or sympathy on him, jailer," Moth
interposed. "That is the lad we have been looking for all day, and a
precious sly one he is, too."
"Well, he does not look it," the jailer answered, "but frank about the
eyes as my own boy, though his face is not much to speak of in its
present shape."
"I'm as honest, sir, as I can be, and this man has no business to say
I'm not, nor claim any rights over me," I answered, appealingly.
"Do not let him fool you, jailer. Those brown eyes of his have more
deviltry in them than there is in that highwayman's whole body," Moth
answered, looking across at the man in the corner, who had straightened
up and now sat silently regarding us.
"I'm not bad," I cried, laying hold of the jailer's hand, "and I haven't
harmed any one, nor taken what didn't belong to me."
"I am sure of it," he answered, kindly.
"I told you he would fool you, for in cunning and evasion he is Satan's
own imp," Moth answered, anger showing in his voice.
"Don't believe him," I answered. "He has no right to pursue me as he
does. He's not my guardian."
"Who is your guardian, and where is he?" the jailer asked, as if that
would settle it.
"Uncle Job Throckmorton, and he lives in Appletop. He left me at Rock
Island till he could come back, and yesterday this man planned to kidnap
me, and that's why I ran away," I answered, determined to tell my story.
"I know Mr. Throckmorton, and he is an upright, honest gentleman, if
there is one in the state," the jailer replied.
"Then don't let this man pursue me longer," I answered, "for he has no
right."
"I have you already," Moth answered, "and so there is no need to pursue
you farther. You are under age and an estray, for Throckmorton's not
your guardian, and can be reclaimed by the owner wherever found. Is not
that so, jailer?"
"Maybe; but I think you ought to have a warrant to take him," he added,
brightening up at the thought.
"Nonsense! It is not necessary. You are a justice, and it is your
business to hold him pending investigation."
"Why should I, if you have nothing to prove your right to him?"
"I have, and you know it," Moth answered, confidently.
"I do not," the jailer replied, doggedly.
"Well, I tell you so now, and that I shall hold you responsible as an
officer of the law for his safety," Moth answered, with savage
determination.
"Well, I say I'll not turn a hand to help you. The statutes of Illinois
are very liberal about boys being at large, and I am not going to
interfere with this one," the jailer answered.
"You will not dare to refuse to perform the duties of your office," Moth
answered, desperately.
"It is not my duty to detain him," the jailer answered.
"I'll never go with him," I spoke up, encouraged by the jailer's manner
and speech. "He has no more claim on me than that robber."
"Yes, I have; and you will go with me, just as the robber did," Moth
replied. "I will make you go."
"You can't; and if you were not an old man I'd wallop the life out of
you right here and now," I cried, my anger getting the better of me
again.
To this Moth made no response, but stood still, eying me for a while in
silence; then turning to the jailer, he said:
"To-morrow I will bring an officer to take this lad, my client's ward
according to the judge's ruling, and you dare not let him go meanwhile.
He is a runaway, and I call on you to hold him."
"If you want to leave him here, perhaps you can, provided you pay his
board and lodging, but I will not assume any responsibility--not for a
minute," the jailer answered, cowed by Moth's manner and confident air.
"Yes, you will, and you will secure him in the same way you have the
highwayman," Moth answered, pointing to the robber.
"I'll see you damned first. He is not a criminal, but a child, and I
will not tie him up, nor will you," the jailer answered.
"You are not fit to fill the office you do; but I must be satisfied, I
suppose. Anyway, he can't escape," Moth answered, gazing about him as
if to judge of the strength of the room.
"No," the jailer replied, in a voice that plainly said he wished I
could; "and now, sir, if you have no one else to lock up and no more
orders to give, I will shut up shop and go home."
Moth returning no answer to this, the jailer crossed to where the robber
sat and pinioned his arms, after which he attached the rope to a ring in
the wall, but not so closely that the prisoner could not lie down. Then
taking his lantern, he motioned Moth to go ahead, following him to the
door. There turning around, he pointed to a bunk in the corner, saying: