BARKSDALE'S WARNING.
Edward was awakened by a cowhorn blown just before the peep of day and
the frantic baying of the hounds that Charlie Possum was bringing to the
house. As he dressed and came forth the echos of horses' feet were heard
in the distance upon the public roads and the cry of other hounds, and
as the gray dawn lighted the east the outer yard presented an animated
scene. About a dozen riders were dismounting or dismounted were trying
to force a place between the multitude of dogs, great and small, that
were settling old and new disputes rough and tumble, tooth and toe nail.
There was little of the holiday attire that is usually seen at club
meets; the riders wore rough clothing and caps and their small slender
horses were accoutered with saddles and bridles that had been distinctly
"worn." But about all was a business air and promise of genuine sport.
Many of the dogs were of the old "July" stock, descendants of a famous
Maryland dog of 40 years before, whose progeny scattered throughout
Georgia constitute canine aristocracy wherever found--a slender-flanked,
fullchested animal, with markings of black and tan. Among them were
their English rivals of larger form and marked with blotches of red and
white.
The servants were busy getting light refreshments for the riders. Mary
was the superintendent of this, but at the same time she was presiding
over a ceremony dear to the old south at all hours of the day. Into each
generous cut glass goblet that lined her little side table she poured a
few spoonsful of sweetened water, packing them with crushed ice. Down
through the little arctic heaps, a wineglassful of each, she poured a
ruby liquor grown old in the deep cellar, and planted above the radiated
pyramids little forests of mint. Nothing but silver is worthy to hold
such works of art, and so getting out an old, well-worn Montjoy silver,
its legend and crest almost faded into the general smoothness of their
background, she placed them there and began her ministry in the long
dining room. She made a pretty picture as she passed among the men, her
short, narrowskirted riding dress and little felt hat setting off her
lithe, active form perfectly. The ceremony was simple and short.
Everybody was eager to be off.
Just as they mounted and rode out, Mary appeared from somewhere, mounted
upon a half broken colt, that betrayed a tendency to curve herself into
a half-moon, and gallop broadside against fences and trees that were
inconveniently located.
Edward viewed the mount with alarm. Though a fairly good rider, he was
not up to cross country runs and he questioned his ability to be of much
assistance should the half broken animal bolt, with its fair burden. He
proposed an exchange, but Mary laughed at the idea.
"Lorna is all right," she said, "but you could never get her out of the
yard. She will steady up after awhile, and the best of horses can't beat
her in getting round corners and over fences."
"Daughter," said the colonel, checking his horse as he prepared to
follow, "are you sure of Lorna?"
"Perfectly. She is going to do her worst for a while and then her best.
Steady girl; don't disgrace yourself before company." Lorna danced and
tossed her head and chewed upon her bit with impatience.
At that moment Barksdale rode into the yard, mounted upon a tall
thoroughbred, his equipments perfect, dress elegant, seat easy and
carriage erect. He seemed to Edward a perfect horseman. He gravely
saluted them both.
"I see that I am in the nick of time, Miss Mary; I was afraid it was
late."
"It is late," said the girl, "but this time it is a cat and doesn't
matter. The scent will lie long after sun-up." They were following then
and the conversation was difficult. Already the dark line of men was
disappearing down the line in its yet unbroken shadow. A mile away the
party turned into the low grounds and here the general met them riding
his great roan and, as always when mounted, having the appearance of an
officer on parade. He came up to the three figures in the rear and
saluted them cheerily. His old spirits seemed to have returned.
They entered into a broad valley that had been fallow for several years.
Along the little stream that threaded its way down the middle with
zigzag indecision, grew the southern cane from 6 to 15 feet high; the
mass a hundred yards broad in places, and at others narrowing down to
fords. This cane growing erect is impenetrable for horses. The rest of
the valley, half a mile wide, was grown up in sage, broomstraw, little
pines and briars.
The general shape of the ground was that of the letter Y, the stem being
the creek, and the arms its two feeders leading in from the hills. To
start at the lower end of the letter, travel up and out one arm to its
end, and return to the starting point, meant an eight mile ride, if the
cat kept to the cane as was likely. It was a mile across from arm to
arm, without cover except about an acre of sparse, low cane half way
between. When Mary came up to the leading riders, with her escort, they
were discussing a fact that all seemed to regard as significant. One of
the old dogs, "Leader," had uttered a sharp, quick yelp. All other dogs
were focusing toward her; their dark figures visible here and there as
they threaded the tangled way. Suddenly an angry, excited baying in
shrill falsetto was heard, and Evan shouted: "That's my puppy Carlo!
Where are your English dogs?"
"Wait," said one of the party. "The English dogs will be in at start and
finish." Suddenly "Leader" opened fullmouthed, a second ahead of her
puppy, and the next instant, pandemonium broke loose. Forty-seven dogs
were racing in full cry up the stream. A dozen excited men were
following, with as much noise and skill as they could command.
"A cat, by ----" exclaimed one of the neighbors. "I saw him!" Barksdale
led the way for the little group behind. Edward could have closed in,
but his anxiety for the girl was now developed into genuine fear. The
tumult was the signal for Lorna to begin a series of equine
calisthenics, more distinguished for violence than beauty. For she
planted her heels in the face of nature repeatedly, seemingly in an
impartial determination to destroy all the cardinal points of the
compass. This exercise she varied with agile leaps upward, and bunching
of feet as she came down.
Edward was about to dismount to take hold of her when Lorna, probably
discerning that it was unnecessary to get rid of her rider before
joining the rout, went past him like a leaf upon a hurricane. He planted
spurs in his horse's side and followed with equal speed, but she was now
far ahead. He saw her skim past Barksdale, and that gentleman with but a
slight motion of his knees increased his speed. And then Lorna and the
thoroughbred went straight into the wall of cane, but instead of a
headlong plunge and a mixture of human being and struggling animal
floundering in the break, he simply saw--nothing. The pair went out of
sight like an awkwardly snuffed candle.
He had no time to wonder; the next instant he was going through a hog
path in the cane, the tall stems rattling madly against his knees, his
eyes dazed by the rushing past of so many near and separate points of
vision. Then he rose in air. There was a flash of water underneath and
down he came into the path. The open world burst upon him again like a
beautiful picture. He only saw the flying figure of the girl upon a mad
colt. Was she trying in vain to hold it? Would she lose her head? Would
her nerve forsake her? Heavens!! She is plying her whip with might and
main, and the man on the thoroughbred at her heels looks back over his
shoulder into Edward's white face and smiles. Then they disappear into
the green wall again and again the world is reborn on the other side.
The pace tells. One by one Edward passes the riders. The old general
comes up at last. As Mary goes by, he gives what Edward supposes to be
the old rebel yell of history and then they are out of the end of one
arm of the Y and heading for the clump of cane.
There has been little dodging. With so many dogs plunging up both sides
of the creek, and picking up its trail as he crossed and re-crossed, the
cat had finally to adopt a straightaway program as the cover would
permit. If it dodged once in this little bit of small cane it was lost.
It did not dodge. It went straight into the end of the other arm of the
Y and to the astonishment of all the hunters apparently went out again
and across a sedge field toward the hills.
It was then a straight race of half a mile and the dogs won. They
snarled and pulled and fought around the carcass, when Lorna went
directly over them and was "sawed up" at the edge of the woods 50 yards
further. One of the hunters jumped down and plucked the carcass from the
dogs and held it up. It was a gray fox. The dogs had run over him in the
little cane and indulged in a view chase. The cat was elsewhere!
Exclamations of disgust were heard on all sides and Evan looked
anxiously among the gathering dogs.
"Where is Carlo?" he asked of several. "Has anybody seen Carlo?" Nobody
had, apparently; but at that moment in the distance, down the arm of the
Y which Reynard had crossed, they heard a sharp, puppyish cry,
interspersed with the fuller voicings of an old dog.
"There is Carlo!" shouted the old gentleman in a stentorian voice. "And
Leader," interpolated Montjoy.
"Come on with your English dogs! Ha, ha, ha!" and Evan was gone. But
Lorna was done for the day. She distinctly refused to become enthused
any more. She had carried her rider first in at the death in one race
and the bush had been handed to Mary. Lorna responded to the efforts to
force her, by indulging in her absurd half-moon antics. Barksdale and
Edward turned back.
"It will come around on the same circuit," said Barksdale, speaking of
the cat; "let us ride out into the open space and see it." They took
position and listened. Two miles away, about at the fork of the Y, they
could hear the echo of the tumult. If the cat went down the main stem
the day was probably spoiled; if it came back up the other branch as
before, they were in good position.
Nearer and nearer came the rout and then the dogs swarmed all over the
lone acre of cane. The animal had dodged back from the horsemen standing
there and was now surrounded.
The dogs ran here and there trotting along outside the cane careless and
fagged suddenly became animated again and sprang upon a crouching form,
whose eyeballs could even from a distance, be seen to roll and glare
frightfully. There was one motion, the yelping puppy went heels over
head with a wound from neck to hip, and Carlo had learned to respect the
wild cat. But the next instant a dozen dogs were rolling in horrid
combat with the animal and then a score were pulling at the gray and tan
form that offered no more resistance.
"Thirty-five pounds," said an expert, holding up the dead cat. A front
foot was cut off and passed up for examination. It was as large as a
man's fist and the claws were like the talons of a condor.
The general was down, examining the wound of poor Carlo, and, all
rivalry cast aside, the experienced hunters closed in to help him. It
was not a question now of Maryland or England; a puppy that would hold a
trail when abandoned by a pack of old dogs whom it was accustomed to
follow and rely upon its own judgment as to wherein lay its duty, and
first of all, after a 16 mile run, plants its teeth in the quarry--was
now more than a puppy. Ask any old fox hunter and he will prophesy that
from the day of the killing of the cat, whenever Carlo opened in a hunt,
no matter how much the other dogs might be interested, they would
suspend judgment and flock to him. That day made Carlo a Napoleon among
canines.
Edward was an interested observer of the gentle surgery being practiced
upon the dog. At length he ventured to ask a question. "What is his
name, General?"
"Carlo."
"And I presume he is not what you call an English dog?"
The general looked at him fiercely; then his features relaxed. "Go away,
Edward, go away--and give the dog a chance."
Barksdale had ridden to one side with Mary and was gravely studying the
scene. Presently he said abruptly:
"When is it you leave for Europe?"
"To-morrow."
"There is a matter pending," he said quietly, "that renders it
peculiarly unfortunate." She regarded him with surprise. "What I say is
for you alone. I know Mr. Morgan has been out here for several days and
has probably not been made aware of what is talked in town." Briefly he
acquainted her with the rumors afloat and seeing her deep concern and
distress added: "The affair is trivial with Mr. Morgan; he can easily
silence the talk, but in his absence, if skillfully managed, it can
affect his reputation seriously."
"Skillfully managed?"
"Do you suppose that Mr. Morgan is without enemies?"
"Who could be his enemy?" She asked quickly, then flushed and was
silent.
"I will not risk an injustice to innocent people," he said slowly, "but
he has enemies, I leave it to you to decide whether to acquaint him with
what is going on or not. I do not even advise you. But I came on this
hunt to acquaint you with the situation. If the man whom I suspect is
guilty in this matter he will not leave a stone unturned to destroy his
rival. It is nearer home from this point than from the hall and I have
business waiting. Good-bye."
He saluted Morgan, who was approaching, and went rapidly away. Mary rode
home in silence, returning only monosyllables to her escort. But when
she spoke of being doubtful of their ability to get ready by morning and
Edward proposed to cancel his order for berths, she hesitated. After all
the affair was ridiculous. She let it pass from her mind.