A DISCIPLE OF SIR WALTER
I have no doubt she wished me to see her thus. Every woman worth the
winning is a bit of a coquette, and none can be utterly disdainful
of the lesson their mirror tells. But even as I gazed upon her, my
admiration deeper than my pain, the arch expression of her face
changed; there came a sudden rush of pity, of anxiety into those clear,
challenging eyes, and with one quick step she drew nearer and bent above
me.
“Oh, Captain Wayne,” she cried, her warm, womanly heart conquering all
prejudice, “you are badly hurt and bleeding. Why did you not tell me?
Please let me aid you.”
“I fear I must,” I replied grimly. “I would gladly spare you, for indeed
I do not believe my injury sufficiently serious to cause alarm, but I
find I have only one arm I can use at present; the brute got his teeth
into the other.”
The tender compassion within her eyes was most pleasant to see.
“Oh, believe me, I can do it.” She spoke bravely, a sturdy ring of
confidence in the voice, although at the thought her face paled. “I have
been in the hospitals at Baltimore, and taken care of wounded soldiers.
If there was only some water here!”
She glanced about, dreading the possibility of having to go forth into
the night alone in search of a spring or well.
“I think you will find a pail on the bench yonder,” I said, for from
where I leaned against the wall I could see out into the shed. “It was
doubtless left for the dog to drink from.”
She came back with it, tearing down a cloth from off a peg in the wall
as she passed, and then, wearing a resolute air of authority, knelt
beside me, and with rapid fingers flung back my jacket, unfastening the
rough army shirt, and laid bare, so far as was possible, the lacerated
shoulder.
It gave me intense pain, for the shirt had become matted to the wound
by drying blood, so that in spite of her soft touch and my own clinched
teeth a slight groan broke from my lips.
“Forgive me,” she said anxiously, “but I fear I can never dress it in
this way. We must remove your jacket and cut away the sleeve of your
shirt.”
It was an agonizing operation, for it has often seemed to me that the
more superficial the wound the greater the pain experienced in dealing
with it, and the perspiration stood in beads upon my forehead as
she worked quickly and with skill. At last the disagreeable task was
accomplished, the wounded shoulder completely bared. Her face was
deathly white now, and she shielded her eyes with her hand.
“Oh, what a horrible wound!” she exclaimed, almost sobbing. “How that
great brute must have hurt you!”
“The wound is not so serious as it appears,” I replied reassuringly, and
glad myself to feel that I spoke the truth, “but I confess the pain is
intense, and makes me feel somewhat faint. It was not so much the mere
bite of the dog, but unfortunately he got his teeth into an old wound
and tore it open.”
“An old wound?”
“Yes; I received a Minié ball there at Gettysburg, and although the
bullet was extracted, the wound never properly healed.”
These words served to recall to her instantly the fact that I was not of
her own people; there appeared to come again into her manner that marked
restraint which had almost totally disappeared during the last few
minutes. Not that she failed in any kindness or consideration, but a
growing reserve put check upon what was fast becoming the intimacy
of friendship. Yet she performed her disagreeable task with all the
tenderness of a sympathetic woman, and as she worked swiftly and deftly,
made no attempt to conceal the tears clinging to her long lashes.
Skilfully the deep, jagged gash was bathed out, and then as carefully
bound up with the softest cloths she could find at hand. The relief was
great, and I felt, as I moved the shoulder, that saving the soreness it
would probably not greatly bother me.
“Now you must lie back and rest,” she said command-ingly, as I attempted
to thank her. “Here, put your head on this cloak. But first it will do
you good to have more of the brandy, for you are as white as death.”
“Merely a slight faintness; and I will only consent to indulge provided
you partake first, for I know you require the stimulant as much as I,” I
retorted doggedly, gazing up into her face with an admiration she could
scarcely fail to perceive.
She lifted the flask to her lips and did not answer, but when she handed
it back to me there was a new flush upon her cheeks.
“And now as your nurse I command absolute quiet,” striving to speak
gaily. “See, the daylight is already here, and I mean to discover if
this lone cabin contains anything which human beings can eat; I confess
that I am nearly famished.”
“A most excellent symptom, and I imagine your quest will not be wholly
vain. To my eye that greatly resembles a slab of bacon hanging beside
the chimney.”
“It indeed is,” she exclaimed, “and I feel as a shipwrecked seaman must
on first beholding land.”
However my naturally energetic spirit revolted at inactivity, for
the time being my faintness precluded any thought of doing other than
obeying her orders, and I lay there silent, propped up against the logs,
my eager eyes following her rapid, graceful movements with a constantly
increasing interest. As she worked, the reflection of the red flames
became mingled with the gray dawn, until the bare and cheerless interior
grew more and more visible. Her search was far from unsuccessful, while
her resourcefulness astonished me, old campaigner as I was; for it was
scarcely more than full daylight before she had me at the table, and I
was doing full justice to such coarse food as the larder furnished.
A Confederate soldier in those days could not well afford to affect
delicacy in matters of the cuisine, and indeed our long fast had left us
both where any kind of food was most welcome.
The eating helped me greatly; but for some time so busy were we that
neither of us spoke. On my own part I experienced a strange hesitancy in
addressing her upon terms of equality. Ordinarily not easily embarrassed
in feminine society, I felt in this instance a definite barrier between
us, which prevented my feeling at ease. Now and then as we sat opposite
each other, eating amid a silence most unpleasant, I would catch her
eyes glancing across at me, but they were lowered instantly whenever I
ventured to meet them. Finally I broke the stillness with a commonplace
remark:
“I presume your people will be greatly worried by this time over your
mysterious disappearance.”
A flush swept her throat and cheeks, but she did not lift her eyes from
the plate. “Yes,” she answered slowly, “Frank is doubtless searching for
me long before this.”
“Frank?” I asked, feeling glad of this opportunity to learn more of her
relationships. “You forget, possibly, that your friends are strange to
me. You refer to the gentleman who expected to meet you on the road?”
“To Major Brennan, yes.”
There was nothing about the tone of her reply that invited me to press
the inquiry further. One thing, however, was reasonably certain,--the
man she called “Frank” could not be her father. I longed to ask if
he was a brother, but the restraint of her whole manner repelled the
suggestion.
“Did I understand that you have nursed in the Federal hospitals at
Baltimore?” I questioned, more to continue the conversation than from
any deep interest.
“Merely as a volunteer, and when the regular nurses were especially
busy. Major Brennan was stationed there for some time when I first
visited him, and I felt it my duty as a loyal woman to aid the poor
fellows.”
“It was surely far from being an agreeable task to one of your
refinement.”
“Oh, it was not that that made it so hard,” and her eyes were upon me
now unflinchingly. “It was the constant sight of so much misery one
was unable to relieve. Besides, that was nearly a year ago; I was
very young, just from school, and every form of suffering was new and
terrible to me.”
“I greatly wonder you were permitted to go there at all.”
“The Major did object. He insisted it was no fit place for me, and that
I ran the risk of contracting disease. But I generally have my own way,
even with him, and in this case I felt it a duty to my country, and that
I was right in my decision.”
I remained silent, striving vainly to frame some innocent question which
should solve for me the problem of who and what she was. Suddenly she
spoke softly:
“Captain Wayne, I feel I owe you an apology for my unwarranted and
unladylike conduct last night. I am very sure now that you are a
gentleman, and will appreciate how bitterly I was tried, how deeply I
have ever since regretted it.”
It hurt her pride to say even this much, as I could tell by her downcast
eyes and heaving bosom, and I hastened to relieve her embarrassment.
“You have nothing whatever to ask forgiveness for,” I said earnestly.
“Rather such a request should come from me. I only trust, Miss Brennan,
that you will excuse my part in this extremely unfortunate affair.”
She sat looking down upon her plate, her fingers nervously crumbling a
bit of corn bread.
“You do not even know who I am,” she said slowly. “I am not Miss, but
Mrs. Brennan.”
I felt as if a dash of cold water had been suddenly thrown in my face.
“Indeed?” I stammered, scarcely knowing what I said. “You appear so
young a girl that I never once thought of you as being a married woman.”
“I was married very early; indeed, before I was seventeen. My husband--”
What she was about to add I could but conjecture, for a quick change in
the expression of her face startled me.
“What is it?” I questioned, half rising to my feet, and glancing over my
shoulder toward the wall where her eyes were riveted.
“Something resembling a hand pushed aside the coat hanging yonder,” she
explained in low trembling tone, “and I thought I saw a face.”
With one stride I was across the narrow room, and tore the garment from
its wooden hook. The log wall where it hung was blank. I struck it here
and there with the steel hilt of my sabre, but it returned a perfectly
solid sound, and I glanced about bewildered. The woman was watching me
with affrighted eyes.
“This entire house is uncanny,” she exclaimed. “The very being in it
makes my flesh creep. It may have been a den of murderers. Captain, let
us get outside into the sunshine.”
Believing it to be merely her overwrought nerves which were at fault, I
sought to soothe her. “It was probably no more than a shadow,” I said,
crossing to her side of the table, to enable her better to feel the
influence of my presence. “Let us be content to sit here by the door,
for we should be taking too great a risk of discovery if we ventured
into the open.”
I had barely spoken these words and placed my fingers on her hand to
lead her forward when the small door which opened into the shed was
thrown back noisily, and two great shaggy dogs, the evident mates of the
dead brute at our feet, leaped fiercely in. She shrank toward me with a
sob of terror; but even as I drew a revolver from my belt, a man and a
woman appeared almost simultaneously in that same opening.
“Down, Douglas! down, Roderick! Ha! 'There lies Red Murdoch, stark and
stiff!'--down, you brutes; you'll be dead yourselves sometime.”
The man strode forward as he spoke, clubbing the frenzied brutes with
the stock of the long rifle he carried.
“'Yelled on the view the opening pack,'” he quoted, as he distributed
his blows impartially to right and left; “'rock, glen, and cavern paid
them back.' Them thar be Scott's words, stranger, an' I reckon as how
ol' Sir Walter knew whut he wus writin' 'bout. Stop thet blame youlin',
you Roderick, er I'll take t' other end o' this gun ter ye.”
He redoubled his efforts for peace, finally driving the rebellious
beasts back into one corner, where they sat upon their haunches and eyed
us wistfully.
“'Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, unmatched for courage, breath,
and speed,'” he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his face with
the back of one hand and staring at us, “specially the breath.”
He was a fierce-looking little fellow, scarcely more than a half-grown
boy in size, with round, red face full of strange wrinkles, and head
as oddly peak-shaped as I ever looked upon. It went up exactly like the
apex of a pear, while the upper portion was utterly bald. He formed
a most remarkable contrast to the tall, raw-boned, angular female who
loomed up like a small mountain just behind him.
“I reckon as how you uns hed quite a bit of a scrap afore ye laid thet
thar dorg out, stranger,” he said, a half-angry tone lurking in his deep
voice. “'The fleetest hound in all the North,' an' I'm durned if I jist
likes ther way you uns makes yerselves et hum in this yere cabin.”
“Shet up, Jed Bungay,” cut in his better-half, sharply, and as she spoke
she caught the little man unceremoniously by one arm, and thrusting
him roughly to one side strode heavily forward until she paused in the
centre of the room, facing us with her arms akimbo.
“Now I'd jist like ter know,” she said savagely, “who you uns be, a
breakin' into a house, and a killin' a dorg, an' a eatin' up everything
we uns got without so much as a sayin' 'by yer leave' er nuthin'. I
reckon as how you uns don't take this yere cabin fer no tavern?”
The wrinkled red face peering cautiously around her ample waist line
made me wish to laugh, but an earnest desire to placate the irate
female, who was evidently the real head of this household, enabled me to
conquer the inclination and answer gravely.
“Madam,” I said with a low bow, “it is misfortune, not desire, which has
caused us to trespass upon your hospitality. We will very gladly pay
you liberally for any damage done. I am an officer in the Confederate
service, and the breaking down of our horses compelled us to take refuge
here in order that this lady might not be exposed to danger from roving
gangs of guerillas. The dog attacked us in the dark, and we killed him
in order to save our lives.”
“'The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay resounded up the rocky way,”
ejaculated Bungay with dancing eyes.
“Drat yer potry, Jed Bungay! ye dew make me tired fer suah.” She turned
back to us, and from her first words it was plainly evident she had been
impressed with but one sentence of my labored explanation.
“Did you uns say as how ye 'd pay fer whut ye et and fer thet truck ye
busted?” she asked doubtfully.
“Certainly, madam,” and I took some money from my pocket as evidence of
good faith. “What would you consider due you?”
The grim, set face relaxed slightly, while she permitted her husband to
edge his way a little more into the foreground.
“Wal, stranger, I sorter reckon as how 'bout four bits 'ill squar'
things--dorgs is mighty durn cheap hereabout enyhow.”
“'But Lufra,--whom from Douglas' side nor bribe nor threat could e'er
divide,'” he protested. “Not that its name was Lufra, but he was a blame
fine dorg.”
The woman turned on him like a flash, and he crept subdued back into his
corner. The incipient rebellion had been ended by a glance.
“Durn ye, Jed Bungay, why, thet's more money thin ye've aimed in six
months, an' ye've got more measly, flea-bit dorgs 'round yere now then
ye kin ever feed. Give me ther four bits, mister, an' I reckon as how
it'll be all right.”
The little man balanced himself on one foot, and cocked up his eye in an
abortive attempt to wink.
“Yas, don't ye ever mind me, Mariar,” he said humbly. “'Whom ther Lord
hath jined tergether let no man put asunder.' Thet thar ain't Scott,
Cap, but I reckon it's out of another book mighty nigh es good. Hes you
uns got all ther victuals ye want? 'He gave him of his Highland cheer,
the hardened flesh of mountain deer.' This yere is slab bacon, but it
smells purty durn good.”
I glanced at Mrs. Brennan, and the amused twinkle in her eyes led me to
say heartily, “We had not entirely completed our meal, but imagined we
saw ghosts.”
“Ghosts!” He glanced around apprehensively,--“'On Heaven and on thy lady
call, and enter the enchanted hall!' Wus ther ghosts ye saw over thar?”
And he pointed toward the wall opposite.
I nodded.
“Then I sorter reckon as how Mariar and me wus them ghosts,” he
continued, grinning. “We sorter reckoned as how we wanted ter see who
wus yere afore we come in. 'I'll listen till my fancy hears the clang
of swords, the crash of spears.' These yere is tough times, stranger, in
these parts, an' a man whut has ter pertect a lovely female hes got ter
keep his eye skinned.”
Maria sniffed contemptuously.
“Ye're no great shakes at a pertectin' o' me, Jed Bungay. Now you sit
down thar an' begin ter fill up. I reckon as how ther Cap an' his gal
will kinder jine with us fer manners.”
She seated Jed with such extreme vigor that I looked for the chair to
collapse beneath him as he came down, but the little man, not in the
least daunted, picked up his knife and fork with a sigh of relief.
“'O woman! in our hours of ease uncertain, coy, and hard to please,'”
he murmured. “Come, sit down, stranger; 'Sit down an' share a soldier's
couch, a soldier's fare.' Not as I'm a sojer,” he hastened to explain,
“but thet's how it is in ther book. Say, old woman, kint ye kinder sker
up some coffee fer we uns--leastwise whut us Confeds call coffee?”
Without much difficulty I induced Mrs. Brennan to draw her chair once
more to the table, and I sat down beside her.
“You are Confederate, then?” I asked, curious to know upon which side
his sympathies were enlisted in the struggle.
He glanced warily at my gray jacket, then his shrewd, shifty eyes
wandered to the blue and yellow cavalry cloak lying on the floor.
“Wal, I jist don't know, Cap,” he said cautiously, continuing to eat as
he talked, “as I'm much o' enything in this yere row. First ther durned
gray-backs they come snoopin' up yere, an' run off all my horgs; then
ther blame blue-bellies come 'long an' cut down every lick o' my corn
fodder, so thet I'll be cussed if I ain't 'bout ready ter fight either
side. Anyhow I ain't did no fightin' yit worth talkin' 'bout, fer Mariar
is pow'ful feared I'd git hurt.”
Maria regarded him scornfully.
“Hiding out, I suppose?”
“Wal, 'tain't very healthful fer us ter be stayin' et hum much o' ther
time, long with that thar Red Lowrie, an' Jim Hale, an' the rest o' thet
cattle 'round yere.”
“Guerillas pretty thick now in the mountains?”
He glanced up quickly, his shrewd gray eyes on my face, and Maria turned
about as she stood beside the fireplace.
“Wal, I dunno; I heerd as they wus doin' somethin' down by ther brick
church, but thar 's no great shakes of 'em jist 'round yere. I reckon as
how they knows 'nough ter keep 'way from Jed Bungay--I'd pitch 'em 'far
as ever peasant pitched a bar.'”
“You have no fear of them, then?”
“Whut, me?” The little man sat bolt upright, and glared fiercely across
the table as though he would resent an insult.
“Stranger, I have fit them ar fellers night an' day in these yere
mountings fer nigh onter three year--me an' Mariar.
“'For love-lorn swain in lady's bower
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour
As I, until before me stand
This rebel chieftain and his band.'
“I jist tell ye, Cap, I reckon thar ain't no guerilla a goin' ter poke
his nose 'round yere 'less he 's a lookin' fer sudden death; thar's
mighty few o' 'em ain't heerd o' Jed Bungay--Whut in thunder 's ther
matter with yer gal?”
He stopped suddenly, and stared at her; but before I could turn about in
my chair one of the great dogs began to growl savagely, and Maria sprang
forward and cuffed the surly brutes into rebellious silence.
“It's hosses,” she said harshly. “Likely as not it's Red's gang. Now,
Jed Bungay, yere's two lovely females fer ye ter pertect.”
As I hastily sprang to my feet I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the
partially opened door. Down the steep of the hill road there was slowly
moving toward us on foot a small party of perhaps a dozen men, so
variously clothed as to make it evident they were irregulars. Just ahead
of them, but on horseback, two others were even then turning into the
narrow path that led to the house, attracted probably by the smoke which
streamed from the chimney-top.