meet with at this time, though it was common enough before the forests
that lined the great river were disturbed by the hand of man. On every
side the farm was bordered about by tangled shrubbery and overhanging
trees, and now, it being autumn, they were tinged with a thousand shades
of color, not one remaining steadfast, but shifting with the varying
light, revealing some new beauty with each changing reflection of the
sun. On one side, upon a ridge of sand, oaks with gnarled and rugged
sides lifted their giant forms, and about the other borders boxwood and
ash, mingled with maple and elm, grew in picturesque confusion. Near
by, on the very edges of the farm, elders and a thousand vagrant bushes
struggled to outdo each other in growth and show of beauty. Farther
out, in the stubble of the field, fat weeds, green as in midsummer,
uplifted their heads defiantly, as if shouting to the passer-by, "See!
after all, nothing comes of thrift." In the meadow, and in homely
confusion, wild sunflowers and rosin-weeds projected their stems high in
the air, and upon these meadowlarks and bobolinks sat and sang the day
through.
To one side of the farm, and along an old and abandoned highway, grasses
and flowers spread quite across the sunken road, and on both its sides
bushes crowded forward in confusion and such precipitancy of haste that
in many places one could scarce make headway. Above this scramble of
green the trees spread their limbs, and the sky peering down between
their slender branches looked like a glimpse of some far-off summer sea.
*CHAPTER XXXV*
*CONSPIRACY IN BLACK HAWK'S CABIN*
Among other things, Mrs. Blake never tired of speaking of the great
chief Black Hawk, and more particularly of his wife, whom she regarded
with tender love. Black Hawk she thought a kingly man, and it was
vastly to his honor, she maintained, woman-like and truly, that he had
taken to himself but one wife, remaining faithful throughout to her whom
he had won in his youth.
"Were you greatly harassed by the war?" I asked her one day.
"No, for at the commencement Black Hawk sent an Indian runner to us to
say we would not be molested; nor were we."
"How did he happen to do that?" I asked, surprised.
"We had been neighbors; but it was quite like him, anyway, though he was
much embittered at the last toward the whites because of their treachery
and the wrongs of his people. Of all the Indian chiefs I ever saw," she
went on, the color mounting to her face at the remembrance, "he was the
most commanding, in amiability the greatest, in argument the most
persuasive, and in anger the most terrible. I sometimes thought him
vain, because on occasions of ceremony, and indeed at other times, it
was his habit to adorn his person, savage-like, with garments of the
most brilliant hue, encircling his head with feathers of glistening
black and placing above them a plume of crimson red. Always, too, I
thought, he was inclined to make much of his hereditary rank of king,
but never in an offensive way."
"You must have seen a good deal of him if you were neighbors?" I asked,
interested, as I always was, in reference to everything that concerned
him.
"Yes, but more of his wife and children. They had a cabin near here, on
the river-bank, hid away in the woods, which they used to visit,
sometimes occupying the place for weeks at a time. It was not generally
known, though, I think; and I have heard they came back there after they
had been driven from the country, but we never saw them if they did."
"Maybe they are there now," I answered, my blood stirred at the thought
of being near the great chief.
"No, I hardly think so; but since the old ferry was abandoned,
communication has been cut off, so that they might be there and we not
know it."
When I learned of the close proximity of Black Hawk's former home, I
determined to pay it a visit, not doubting but what I could find it from
Mrs. Blake's account. This chance happily occurred the next day when
trying a horse; for being carried near the river before I could bring
the animal under control, I determined to go on, and doing so, soon came
to the edge of a great bluff, from whence I looked down on the river
across a plain that intervened. Hastening on, strangely moved, I knew
not why, yet conscious that everything I saw was familiar to me, I cried
aloud in surprise and terror on reaching the shore to find myself on the
spot where I had emerged from the water that fatal day when we were all
thrown into the foaming river together. This, then, was the abandoned
ferry about which I had so often heard, and how strange that I should
have lived so near the spot and not have known it. Yet not strange, for
at what point we had crossed I did not know, only that some one had
called it Tip Top, but whether seriously or in play I did not know.
Looking out on the broad river with throbbing heart and tear-dimmed
eyes, I saw again my father and mother, as on that other day, struggling
in the icy water; but only for a moment and as in a vision. Their
mishap, alas! like their chance of life, had passed forever. For that
which the water gave up, albeit so grudgingly, the earth still more
cruel, now held, and would forevermore.
Grieving, I stood for a long time lost in memories of the past, and in
this mood remembrance of the Indian woman who had befriended us came
back to me with pleasurable sadness. With it, however, and like a flash
of light in the darkness of a cloudy night, the knowledge, not before
dreamed of, came to me that it was Black Hawk, and none other, who had
rescued my father and mother on that fatal day; and his wife, too, the
gentle doe who had so tenderly nourished us afterward. The raven
feathers and towering plume of red! Why had I not known him before in
all that had been said? This it was, then, unknown to me, that had ever
made me tenderly responsive to all that concerned him, whether in war or
peace. So much so that as I grew in years he had come to form a part of
the romance of my life, not resembling others of his kind, but apart and
peculiar, like some unknown deity. His gentle wife, the bent and
sorrowful figure sitting desolate in the lonely cabin! Was she still
there? Spurred by the thought, I turned, and urging my horse to his
utmost speed rode headlong down the stream, as on that other day now so
far away. Alas! on reaching the little bay I found only tangled
undergrowth, too dense to penetrate, and of sign of life none whatever.
Fastening my horse, I made my way as best I could to the little cabin,
now wholly hidden by the rank vegetation, but only to find it still and
tenantless. Reaching the door, trembling with the sorrowful
recollections that flooded my heart, I lifted the latch and entered. It
was as I had thought, abandoned; and yet as I looked about in the dim
light it had the air of being used, but by vagrants it might be, or
outlaws. To this, however, I did not give a thought, for my mind was
full of the past, and with such excess of sorrow that scalding tears
burned my cheeks as I stood motionless where I entered. The desolation
of the place and its stillness, as of death, filled my sorrowing heart
to overflowing. Before me, as in the days that had passed, I saw my
father and mother, and kneeling in tender care of her, La Reine; Black
Hawk, too, stern and threatening, stood at my elbow! and then again on
the broad river, with face upturned, in regret of life and scorn of his
enemies! and still again bearing my mother tenderly to his hut! Alas!
it was but a vision, and where they had been only solitude and
desolation now reigned.
Thus I stood grieving, until my tears being wasted, I set about to find,
if I might, some memento that I could take away in remembrance of the
dear ones who were gone. Alas! even the worn bow, relic of other days,
that I hoped still to find, it too was gone. Searching vainly in the
darkened room, I finally turned in despondency of spirit to retrace my
steps; but while my hand was on the latch, and I stood looking back in
vain regret, the voices of men reached me from without. Alarmed, and
remembering the cabin in Murderer's Hollow--for such things one does not
easily forget when young--I stopped and listened. As I did so, and as
if to give the thought reality, the soft voice of Burke reached me,
coming toward the door behind which I stood. Frightened, and yet having
some control over myself, I looked about for a place of concealment, and
doing so, caught sight of the darkened room from which Black Hawk had
taken the oaken paddle. Hastening thither, I had barely reached its
welcome shade when Burke entered. Finding no exit, nor indeed having
time to search for one, I crouched down in an angle of the little room,
scarce breathing for the fear that laid hold of me. Lying quiet, my
heart beat aloud and with such strokes that Burke must surely have heard
had he listened; but unsuspecting, he did not cease speaking to the man
who followed. At first I did not much regard what was said, expecting
each moment to be discovered and dragged to the light; but of search
they seemed not to think, believing the cabin tenantless as before.
Thus left alone, I quickly recovered myself, so that, whether I would or
no, I could not but hear what they said.
"You have better quarters here than in the old place," Burke's companion
at last exclaimed, "though they are as gloomy as the portals of the
infernal regions!"
"Yes, yes; and such places are the best for my trade. I don't spend much
time here, though. I've learned that it's less dangerous in the
forest," Burke replied.
"Yes, curse the country! There is no safety or profit in our business
any longer, though the venture we have in hand ought to afford us
something and to spare."
"Yes; and I hope you have come ready to close up the business," Burke
answered. "I am tired of delay--always delay; and you will admit it is
your fault, not mine."
"Neither yours nor mine. You are not more impatient to see the end of
it than I, and on more accounts than one in my case," the other
answered; "but nothing can be done till the time is ripe."
"When will that be? When will that be?" Burke asked, impatiently, but
in his soft, purring way; "and what is the nature of the business,
anyway?"
"I can't tell you; nor is it necessary you should know till the time
comes. It is all arranged, though, as far as can be, and I am only
waiting the opportunity. That depends on others, or it would come
to-night; but it can't be far off, so don't lose heart or complain."
"What will it amount to--the money, I mean?" Burke purred. "It ought to
be great after all this waiting and riding back and forth across the
country."
"It will, and all cash, too--something that can't be traced or cause its
possessor harm."
"That is good; but how are we to get hold of it, and when? That is what
I want to know," Burke answered, and so softly I could hardly hear his
voice.
"That I can't explain now, as I have told you; only there will be no
great risk, and it will be clean money, as I say, and in packages."
"In packages?"
"Yes; one of paper and the other of coin. They will be sealed, too, and
that being so there will be no need of your opening them till I come."
"Why not, why not?" Burke seemed to whisper, so soft was his voice.
"Oh, for no particular reason, only it will prevent any dispute between
us, as in the Hogge case. I know you would divide fairly, but keep it
in the shape it is in and you will not be tempted to spend any part of
it for drink, and so get both of us into trouble."
"Well, it will only be a few hours, anyway."
"More than that, for I can't come to you for several days--a week or
more," the other replied.
"Why not? What is to prevent?" Burke asked, his voice plainly showing
surprise and irritation.
"It might excite suspicion, for I may be watched. Who can tell what
will happen? You can hide the money meanwhile without risk, or keep it
by you, as you think best."
"Yes, yes; but just when will you come?" Burke answered. "I may not see
you again, and I am not going to hang around a day on any uncertainty
after the thing is done; the danger is too great."
"There will be no risk to you whatever. I might come in a week, but ten
days would be better," the other answered, slowly, as if reflecting on
the matter.
"Well, I can see no point to what you say; but if it must be so, let us
be precise about it. Name the hour."
"Well, then, meet me here at nine o'clock on the tenth night after the
robbery. At nine o'clock at night, mind you!" the other answered,
decisively, after some moments' hesitation.
"All right, if you can't come sooner," Burke answered, as if fixing the
date and hour in his mind; "but how am I to know the time and place to
do the thing?"
"I will let you know as soon as it is determined. It may be necessary
to kill a man, you understand, and I think it would be to your liking if
it turned out that way."
"Where will I get word when the time comes to act? Here?" Burke asked,
paying no attention to what the other said.
"No, at the Craig. You must be there every night at eight o'clock until
you hear from me; I will meet you if I can, or if that is impossible,
leave a line in the hiding-place telling you just what you are to do."
"All right, but hurry, for I am getting tired of the whole thing," Burke
purred.
"I will not delay a moment, you may be sure," the other answered. "And
now, if there is nothing more to say, I must be off, for I have a long
way to ride."
"All right; but before you go have something from Black Hawk's
cupboard," and with the words Burke came toward the closet where I lay
concealed, but passing the opening, returned presently with what he
sought. "Here is something that will shorten your ride. I always keep
a drop where I am likely to be. It cheers one and makes fine company,"
Burke went on, as if liquor was the one solace of his forlorn life.
"Yes, but too much of it makes men tattle, Burke; don't forget that,"
the other answered.
"Yes, yes; but did any one ever know me to tattle?" he responded.
"Well, here's luck to you," the other answered
"Here's to your health, and hoping you will fix the thing up without
more delay," Burke responded, drinking in his turn.
"Thank you; I'll not put it off a minute longer than necessary. Now
will you come with me, or do you stay here?"
"No; I will go with you. I have no great fancy for this place. It
might turn out to be a trap like the other," Burke responded.
"Well, let us be off, then."
"Yes," Burke answered, coming toward me, but, as before, without
entering the closet where I lay. Returning presently, the two left the
room without saying more, closing the door after them.
For a time I lay still, lest they should return, but nothing of the kind
happening, I crept into the main room and so to the door, which I
opened, and without looking to the right or left, plunged into the dark
forest. Running some distance, I stopped and listened, but could hear
nothing save the wash of the waves on the river-bank and the soft
murmuring of the wind in the tops of the trees. Circling the cabin, I
found my horse as I had left him, and mounting made my way through the
forest to an abandoned piece of ground back of the hut. This I
discovered to be the cornfield Black Hawk had once tilled, as the mounds
plainly showed. Stopping, I surveyed it, thinking how simple of
occupation had been the life of this, the greatest among the savage men
of the earth; and to this day, not less than then, I cannot think of the
place and its neglect and solitude except with a sigh of wonder and
regret. Crossing the field, I made my way home, arriving there ere
night had set in and without notice having been taken of my absence.
For this I was glad, being determined to say nothing of what I had heard
or seen. I knew not who was to be robbed nor when, and nothing
therefore would come of speaking, save the discovery of my hiding-place.
When I went to the house some time afterward, Mrs. Blake on seeing me
cried out in affright:
"Are you ill, Gilbert, or what has happened? You are pale as death!"
"It's nothing, only the horse was new, and I have had a hard ride," I
answered, putting her off; "but I'm tired and will go to bed without
waiting for supper, if you don't care."
"Very well; I will bring you something later when you have rested a
little," she answered, with motherly love.
"No, don't bother; I'll be all right in the morning. Sleep always makes
me well."
"As it does all young people, bless your heart," she answered, embracing
me as I passed her on the way to my room.
Bidding her good night, I sought my bed, and lying there strove to find
some clew to the robbery that was being planned, but in vain; and when
the night was far spent, and in sheer weariness of body and mind, I fell
asleep, not to wake till noon of the following day.
*CHAPTER XXXVI*
*PHANTOMS OF THE WOODS*
After my visit to Black Hawk's cabin, things went on as before, except
that I no longer wandered far from the house, lest in some way I should
run across the outlaw Burke. Mr. Blake being away, I was now more than
ever taken up with the care of things, and so, being occupied, the
events I have related little by little faded from my mind. In this way
the autumn closed, and winter came on with high winds that moaned and
shrieked in the trees and about the windows of the house, as if seeking
in vain for some place of warmth and comfort. This till one day, when
we had heard nothing from the outer world for a long time, Mr. Blake
returned from Appletop, where he had work of some kind. Going about his
business, he had scarce a word to say, being more reticent than ever
before, I thought, if that could be. When, however, I would have asked
him about Uncle Job, he put me off with some abruptness of manner, and
doing so, appeared greatly disturbed. At this, and upon his persisting,
I cried out in alarm and as a peevish child might have done:
"Uncle Job is dead!"
"No, no! not that, my son," he answered, his eyes wavering, as men's
will who are weak or seek to mislead you.
"He is ailing, then?"
"No, he is well; as well as you are," he answered, glancing toward his
wife, as if asking her aid.
"Then what is the matter? I know you are keeping something from me?" I
persisted.
"There is nothing the matter; or nothing you could help one way or the
other," he answered, his embarrassment growing greater.
"Tell me what it is, then?" I cried, feeling sure he was hiding
something from me.
"There, don't get excited, my son. It's nothing, I'm sure, if the truth
were known," he answered, floundering about in his speech.
"Nothing!" I answered, forgetting myself and laying hold of his arm.
"What is it, then?"
"It's nothing bad, anyway," he replied, sweat starting from his
forehead; "only a bit queer, maybe, but that's all."
"What is it that's queer?" I exclaimed, ready to fly at his throat, so
great was my rage at his continued attempt to evade my inquiry.
"Strange, I had better have said," he answered, closing his mouth as if
nothing would induce him to say more.
"What's strange?" I persisted. "Whatever it is, I am sure Uncle Job
would want me to know."
"Don't keep him in suspense longer, dear," Mrs. Blake here interposed.
"It can't do any good."
"Is it best?" he asked, as if not agreeing with her.
"Yes; for it can't be kept from him forever," she answered.
"Well, then, my son," he spoke up at last, with sorrowful voice, "your
Uncle has been arrested, but none of us believes he has done anything
wrong, and know that it will all be cleared up at last."
"Arrested!" I exclaimed, scarce able to speak; "Uncle Job arrested, and
for what?"
"Oh, the charge is of no account. It is not true, of course. It can't
be; every one says that!" Mr. Blake went on, the effort to talk and to
lighten the force of what he was saying being altogether beyond him.
"Tell him, my dear; it will do no good now to keep anything back," Mrs.
Blake spoke up again, putting her arm about me as a mother might a
stricken child.
"All right; you know best, my dear, I suppose. Well, then, my son, your
uncle is accused of taking--taking money, but no one believes he stole
it."
"Uncle Job steal money!" I cried, too much overcome to say more.
"Well, the money was left with him, and in the morning it was gone."
"What money?" I exclaimed, "and why do they say he took it?"
"Because he slept in the office that night."
"Oh, but some one else might have taken it. Uncle Job wouldn't!"
"That is what we all think, but who did take it? That is the question
that puzzles every one, for nothing in the room was disturbed, and no
one could have entered."
"Who had him arrested--Moth?" I asked, my thoughts reverting to him as
the source of all our troubles.
"No; the man the money belonged to. He came up from Rock Island, but
brought Moth along and a constable, and after they had been in Appletop
a few hours they accused your Uncle Job, and he was arrested."
"I knew it was Moth; but where is Uncle Job now?"
"In jail."
"In jail!" I cried, breaking down.
"His friends offered to bail him out, but he refused, saying he was
innocent, and would never leave the place till it was made clear."
"In jail! Poor uncle! And what are they doing to clear him?" I asked,
scarce able to speak.
"I don't know. He even refused to have a lawyer, saying there was no
need of one; but Mr. Seymour got one on his own account, and Rathe says
he will hire another."
"Rathe?"
"Yes; he is dreadfully worked up over the scandal."
"When did it all happen?" I asked, striving in vain to control myself.
"A week ago!"
"A week ago, and nobody has told me! Oh, Uncle Job, you haven't a
friend in the world, and will surely be lost!" I cried. "Why did I come
here, anyway, and leave you! I was a coward to fear Moth, when you were
in greater danger than I."
"There! don't take on so, my dear. I'm sure it will all come out right
in the end," Mrs. Blake interposed, hopefully.
"No; and I'm going to him, and to-day--and now," I cried, taking up my
hat.
This Mr. and Mrs. Blake, however, would not permit, saying it was
foolish, and that Moth was in Appletop and would give me trouble, while
I could do nothing. This only made me the more determined, for I
thought there was something back that had not been disclosed, but of
what nature I could form no idea. Nor did it matter, for nothing could
be worse than Uncle Job's plight and the crime he was accused of. That
he had done any wrong I did not for a moment believe. He who was
incapable of even a bad thought! Thus the day wore itself out amid my
entreaties, the night closing in somber and gray, with a light fall of
snow. My determination in nowise changed, I excused myself when supper
was over, and going to my room, slipped on a heavy jacket, and opening
the window jumped to the ground. Hastening, I reached the old abandoned
road, sure my absence would not be discovered until morning; but in any
event, I would not return, for they had no claim on me, and as for Moth,
I no longer cared for him, so great was my distress over Uncle Job's
unhappy plight.