The news flashed over the country as if by the lightning’s spark and by
nine o’clock the district was aroused to a state of frenzied passion.
From near and far they gathered to the stricken home, till in an hour
a mob had assembled, vowing torture and death to the fiend. A brief
questioning revealed the fact that the Carrs’ cook had seen a negro
man pass the kitchen door about dusk, and he had asked for a drink of
water. She would know him again, she said.
A fierce yell rent the silence as Holmes told of the fleeing man and
grim curses filled the air, followed by the thunder of hoofbeats as
the horsemen dashed away in pursuit. On they rode through the darkness,
galloping where the way was clear, and everywhere and at all times
urging their horses to their utmost, every minute pressing forward
with increasing rage and recklessness. Uphill, downhill the searchers
went, scouring every nook and corner for miles around. Their panting
horses needed not to be urged. They seemed to have caught the same
fierce spirit that inspired their riders, their straining muscles and
distended nostrils telling of their eagerness and exertion.
The night was going, but the searchers had as yet found no trace. If
the earth had opened and swallowed the one they sought, the mystery of
his disappearance could have been greater.
Shrewder than those of unthinking haste, the sheriff permitted the
excited crowd to go ahead, that his plans would not be interfered with.
Then, with his deputies and a bloodhound, he went to the scene of the
murder. There he found a sprinkling of blood on the ground, and the
imprints of the heavy shoes in the moist earth showed the direction
which the murderer had taken. He quickly drew the hound’s nose to
the trail and cheered him on. The dark, savage beast was wonderful
at trailing, and had more than once overtaken fleeing criminals. He
sniffed intelligently for a few minutes, then gave an eager yelp and
plunged along the road, made an abrupt turn, then struck down through
a narrow hollow, deep and dark. The men put spurs to their horses and
dashed after him, heedless of the thorns that tore and reckless of
sharp blows from matted undergrowth and low-lying boughs.
The hound, with his deep guide-note, despite their efforts, was soon
far ahead; his lithe, long body close to the earth, leaving no scent
untouched.
The trail led through what is known as “Robbers’ Hollow,” a ravine that
runs in a trough through the winding hills, whose rugged sides looked
jagged and terrible, surrounded by a savage darkness full of snares,
where it was fearful to penetrate and appalling to stay. In spite of
all, they hurried on faster and faster.
Far ahead the pilot note of the hound called them on and they were
well nigh exhausted when they came upon him, baying furiously at a
cabin built on the naked side of a hill, around which there was not a
tree or bush to shelter a man from bullets, should the occupants resist
arrest. As the sheriff and his men arrived, the hound flung his note in
the air and sent up a long howl, then dashed against the door, which
shook and strained from the shock.
The sheriff called him to heel and placed his men at corners of the
cabin. He then rapped on the door and repeated it half a dozen times
before there was a response. Finally a man came to the front.
“Who wants me this time of night?” he grumbled, in a deep, gruff voice,
as he stood in the doorway, his broad chest and arms showing strongly
dark in the light of the lamp he held.
“I do,” answered the sheriff. “Do you live here?”
“No, sir.”
“When did you come here, and from where?”
“From the other side of Georgetown, and I got here ’bout an hour before
dark.”
“Why, Mr. Cooley,” whispered a voice at his elbow, “it was way arter
dark.”
“Sh!” he stuttered, shuffling his feet that the men might not hear
anything else she said.
“What is your name and occupation?” resumed the sheriff, calmly.
“Ephriam Cooley, and I teach school ten miles north of Georgetown.”
His speech was not that of a common negro, but of a lettered man, and
seemed strangely at variance with his bearded, scowling face.
“Have you a knife? I would like to borrow it, if you’ve got one?”
“No, sir, I left my knife in my other pants’ pocket.”
“But you’ve got a razor, haven’t you? Let me have it,” said the
sheriff. “One of our men broke his girth and unfortunately we have no
way of fixing it, as there is not a knife in the crowd.”
There was a slight agitation in the negro’s manner as he turned to find
the razor, or rather to pretend to search for it. The sheriff pushed in
after him.
“Maybe I can help you find it?” he said, as he picked up a coat from
under one corner of the rumpled bed. A razor dropped to the floor. The
negro made a move toward it, but the sheriff’s foot held it fast.
“You need not trouble yourself; I will get it,” he said, as he stooped
and raised it. “Bloodstained? Why, what does this mean?”
“I killed a dog,” the negro muttered, his mouth parched with terror,
his vicious eyes shooting forth venomous flashes. “I’d kill anybody’s
dog before I’d let him bite me. Was it your dog?” and he shrank
slightly away.
“No,” said the sheriff, “it was not mine, but I am afraid you made a
great mistake in killing that dog! Come, get yourself dressed and show
it to me.”
“I threw him in the creek,” he said, angrily.
“You are under arrest. Come, we are going to take you to Georgetown.”
The sheriff caught him by the arm.
“What! for killing a dog, and a yellow dog at that?” He scowled blackly
and fiercely. “I’m in hopes you won’t get me into court about this
matter. I am willing to pay for it,” he said in a husky voice.
“Very likely you will be called upon to pay--in full, but I will
protect you to the extent of my authority. Hurry up! we’ve no time to
lose. It is late and it’s going to rain.”
The negro cast his eyes wildly about him, the last mechanical resource
of despair, but saw nothing else to do.
Mounting the prisoner handcuffed behind him, the sheriff was soon off
for the Scott county jail, one of the party being sent ahead to have
the Carr cook in waiting. The negro had nothing to say, but rode on in
savage silence, his head dropped forward on his breast.