To Harry and Dave, Dane Grey's absence was merely a mystery--to Erskine
it brought foreboding and sickening fear. General Dale's wound having
opened afresh, made travelling impossible, and Harry had a slight
bayonet-thrust in the shoulder. Erskine determined to save them all the
worry possible and to act now as the head of the family himself. He
announced that he must go straight back at once to Kentucky and Captain
Clark. Harry stormed unavailingly and General Dale pleaded with him to
stay, but gave reluctant leave. To Dave he told his fears and Dave
vehemently declared he, too, would go along, but Erskine would not hear
of it and set forth alone.
Slowly enough he started, but with every mile suspicion and fear grew
the faster and he quickened Firefly's pace. The distance to Williamsburg
was soon covered, and skirting the town, he went on swiftly for Red
Oaks.
Suppose he were too late, but even if he were not too late, what should
he do, what could he do? Firefly was sweeping into a little hollow now,
and above the beating of her hoofs in the sandy road, a clink of metal
reached his ears beyond the low hill ahead, and Erskine swerved aside
into the bushes. Some one was coming, and apparently out of the red ball
of the sun hanging over that hill sprang a horseman at a dead run--black
Ephraim on the horse he had saved from Tarleton's men. Erskine pushed
quickly out into the road.
"Stop!" he cried, but the negro came thundering blindly on, as though he
meant to ride down anything in his way. Firefly swerved aside, and
Ephraim shot by, pulling in with both hands and shouting:
"Marse Erskine! Yassuh, yassuh! Thank Gawd you'se come." When he wheeled
he came back at a gallop--nor did he stop.
"Come on, Marse Erskine!" he cried. "No time to waste. Come on, suh!"
With a few leaps Firefly was abreast, and neck and neck they ran, while
the darky's every word confirmed the instinct and reason that had led
Erskine where he was.
"Yassuh, Miss Barbary gwine to run away wid dat mean white man. Yassuh,
dis very night."
"When did he get here?"
"Dis mawnin'. He been pesterin' her an' pleadin' wid her all day an' she
been cryin' her heart out, but Mammy say she's gwine wid him. 'Pears
like she can't he'p herse'f."
"Is he alone?"
"No, suh, he got an orficer an' four sojers wid him."
"How did they get away?"
"He say as how dey was on a scoutin' party an' 'scaped."
"Does he know that Cornwallis has surrendered?"
"Oh, yassuh, he tol' Miss Barbary dat. Dat's why he says he got to git
away right now an' she got to go wid him right now."
"Did he say anything about General Dale and Mr. Harry?"
"Yassuh, he say dat dey's all right an' dat dey an' you will be hot on
his tracks. Dat's why Mammy tol' me to ride like de debbil an' hurry you
on, suh." And Ephraim had ridden like the devil, for his horse was
lathered with foam and both were riding that way now, for the negro was
no mean horseman and the horse he had saved was a thoroughbred.
"Dis arternoon," the negro went on, "he went ovah to dat cabin I tol'
you 'bout an' got dat American uniform. He gwine to tell folks on de way
dat dem udders is his prisoners an' he takin' dem to Richmond. Den dey
gwine to sep'rate an' he an' Miss Barbary gwine to git married somewhur
on de way an' dey goin' on an' sail fer England, fer he say if he git
captured folks'll won't let him be prisoner o' war--dey'll jes up an'
shoot him. An' dat skeer Miss Barbary mos' to death an' he'p make her go
wid him. Mammy heah'd ever' word dey say."
Erskine's brain was working fast, but no plan would come. They would be
six against him, but no matter--he urged Firefly on. The red ball from
which Ephraim had leaped had gone down now. The chill autumn darkness
was settling, but the moon was rising full and glorious over the black
expanse of trees when the lights of Red Oaks first twinkled ahead.
Erskine pulled in.
"Ephraim!"
"Yassuh. You lemme go ahead. You jest wait in dat thicket next to de
corner o' de big gyarden. I'll ride aroun' through de fields an' come
into the barnyard by de back gate. Dey won't know I been gone. Den I'll
come to de thicket an' tell you de whole lay o' de land."
Erskine nodded.
"Hurry!"
"Yassuh."
The negro turned from the road through a gate, and Erskine heard the
thud of his horse's hoofs across the meadow turf. He rode on slowly,
hitched Firefly as close to the edge of the road as was safe, and crept
to the edge of the garden, where he could peer through the hedge. The
hall-door was open and the hallway lighted; so was the dining-room; and
there were lights in Barbara's room. There were no noises, not even of
animal life, and no figures moving about or in the house. What could he
do? One thing at least, no matter what happened to him--he could number
Dane Grey's days and make this night his last on earth. It would
probably be his own last night, too. Impatiently he crawled back to the
edge of the road. More quickly than he expected, he saw Ephraim's figure
slipping through the shadows toward him.
"Dey's jus' through supper," he reported. "Miss Barbary didn't eat wid
'em. She's up in her room. Dat udder orficer been stormin' at Marse Grey
an' hurryin' him up. Mammy been holdin' de little Missus back all she
can. She say she got to make like she heppin' her pack. De sojers down
dar by de wharf playin' cards an' drinkin'. Dat udder man been drinkin'
hard. He got his head on de table now an' look like he gone to sleep."
"Ephraim," said Erskine quickly, "go tell Mr. Grey that one of his men
wants to see him right away at the sun-dial. Tell him the man wouldn't
come to the house because he didn't want the others to know--that he has
something important to tell him. When he starts down the path you run
around the hedge and be on hand in the bushes."
"Yassuh," and the boy showed his teeth in a comprehending smile. It was
not long before he saw Grey's tall figure easily emerge from the
hall-door and stop full in the light. He saw Ephraim slip around the
corner and Grey move to the end of the porch, doubtless in answer to the
black boy's whispered summons. For a moment the two figures were
motionless and then Erskine began to tingle acutely from head to foot.
Grey came swiftly down the great path, which was radiant with moonlight.
As Grey neared the dial Erskine moved toward him, keeping in a dark
shadow, but Grey saw him and called in a low tone but sharply:
"Well, what is it?" With two paces more Erskine stepped out into the
moonlight with his cocked pistol at Grey's breast.
"This," he said quietly. "Make no noise--and don't move." Grey was
startled, but he caught his control instantly and without fear.
"You are a brave man, Mr. Grey, and so, for that matter, is--Benedict
Arnold."
"Captain Grey," corrected Grey insolently.
"I do not recognize your rank. To me you are merely Traitor Grey."
"You are entitled to unusual freedom of speech--under the circumstances."
[Illustration: "Make no noise, and don't move"]
"I shall grant you the same freedom," Erskine replied quickly--"in a
moment. You are my prisoner, Mr. Grey. I could lead you to your proper
place at the end of a rope, but I have in mind another fate for you
which perhaps will be preferable to you and maybe one or two others. Mr.
Grey, I tried once to stab you--I knew no better and have been sorry ever
since. You once tried to murder me in the duel and you did know better.
Doubtless you have been sorry ever since--that you didn't succeed. Twice
you have said that you would fight me with anything, any time, any
place." Grey bowed slightly. "I shall ask you to make those words good
and I shall accordingly choose the weapons." Grey bowed again.
"Ephraim!" The boy stepped from the thicket.
"Ah," breathed Grey, "that black devil!"
"Ain' you gwine to shoot him, Marse Erskine?"
"Ephraim!" said Erskine, "slip into the hall very quietly and bring me
the two rapiers on the wall." Grey's face lighted up.
"And, Ephraim," he called, "slip into the dining-room and fill Captain
Kilburn's glass." He turned with a wicked smile.
"Another glass and he will be less likely to interrupt. Believe me,
Captain Dale, I shall take even more care now than you that we shall not
be disturbed. I am delighted." And now Erskine bowed.
"I know more of your career than you think, Grey. You have been a spy as
well as a traitor. And now you are crowning your infamy by weaving some
spell over my cousin and trying to carry her away in the absence of her
father and brother, to what unhappiness God only can know. I can hardly
hope that you appreciate the honor I am doing you."
"Not as much as I appreciate your courage and the risk you are taking."
Erskine smiled.
"The risk is perhaps less than you think."
"You have not been idle?"
"I have learned more of my father's swords than I knew when we used them
last."
"I am glad--it will be more interesting." Erskine looked toward the house
and moved impatiently.
"My brother officer has dined too well," noted Grey placidly, "and the
rest of my--er--retinue are gambling. We are quite secure."
"Ah!" Erskine breathed--he had seen the black boy run down the steps with
something under one arm and presently Ephraim was in the shadow of the
thicket:
"Give one to Mr. Grey, Ephraim, and the other to me. I believe you said
on that other occasion that there was no choice of blades?"
"Quite right," Grey answered, skilfully testing his bit of steel.
"Keep well out of the way, Ephraim," warned Erskine, "and take this
pistol. You may need it, if I am worsted, to protect yourself."
"Indeed, yes," returned Grey, "and kindly instruct him not to use it to
protect _you_." For answer Erskine sprang from the shadow--discarding
formal courtesies.
"_En garde!_" he called sternly.
The two shining blades clashed lightly and quivered against each other
in the moonlight like running drops of quicksilver.
Grey was cautious at first, trying out his opponent's increase in skill:
"You have made marked improvement."
"Thank you," smiled Erskine.
"Your wrist is much stronger."
"Naturally." Grey leaped backward and parried just in time a vicious
thrust that was like a dart of lightning.
"Ah! A Frenchman taught you that."
"A Frenchman taught me all the little I know."
"I wonder if he taught you how to meet this."
"He did," answered Erskine, parrying easily and with an answering thrust
that turned Grey suddenly anxious. Constantly Grey manoeuvred to keep his
back to the moon, and just as constantly Erskine easily kept him where
the light shone fairly on both. Grey began to breathe heavily.
"I think, too," said Erskine, "that my wind is a little better than
yours--would you like a short resting-spell?"
From the shadow Ephraim chuckled, and Grey snapped:
"Make that black devil----"
"Keep quiet, Ephraim!" broke in Erskine sternly. Again Grey manoeuvred
for the moon, to no avail, and Erskine gave warning:
"Try that again and I will put that moon in your eyes and keep it
there." Grey was getting angry now and was beginning to pant.
"Your wind _is_ short," said Erskine with mock compassion. "I will give
you a little breathing-spell presently."
Grey was not wasting his precious breath now and he made no answer.
"Now!" said Erskine sharply, and Grey's blade flew from his hand and lay
like a streak of silver on the dewy grass. Grey rushed for it.
"Damn you!" he raged, and wheeled furiously--patience, humor, and caution
quite gone--and they fought now in deadly silence. Ephraim saw the
British officer appear in the hall and walk unsteadily down the steps as
though he were coming down the path, but he dared not open his lips.
There was the sound of voices, and it was evident that the game had
ended in a quarrel and the players were coming up the river-bank toward
them. Erskine heard, but if Grey did he at first gave no sign--he was too
much concerned with the death that faced him. Suddenly Erskine knew that
Grey had heard, for the fear in his face gave way to a diabolic grin of
triumph and he lashed suddenly into defense--if he could protect himself
only a little longer! Erskine had delayed the finishing-stroke too long
and he must make it now. Grey gave way step by step--parrying only. The
blades flashed like tiny bits of lightning. Erskine's face, grim and
inexorable, brought the sick fear back into Grey's, and Erskine saw his
enemy's lips open. He lunged then, his blade went true, sank to the
hilt, and Grey's warped soul started on its way with a craven cry for
help. Erskine sprang back into the shadows and snatched his pistol from
Ephraim's hand:
"Get out of the way now. Tell them I did it."
Once he looked back. He saw Barbara at the hall-door with old Mammy
behind her. With a running leap he vaulted the hedge, and, hidden in the
bushes, Ephraim heard Firefly's hoofs beating ever more faintly the
sandy road.