There is a certain charm about the hills that will in time take away
from one that feeling of loneliness which always exists in the heart of
one who has not been long about them. This charm turns the rugged hills
into things of rare beauty, the misty valley into a dream, and peace and
contentment finally take hold upon a life that before had been nothing
but sorrow and grief.
Jack Wade was no longer lonesome in his lonely little cabin in the
foothills, he no longer felt the pangs of that sadness which had
hitherto shot over him to cause him to feel like giving up his plans and
returning to civilization. There were many reasons for this peace and
contentment. The greatest of them was that old Peter Judson and his
entire family had done so much to aid and assist him and to drive away
all loneliness, and for this cause they had endeared themselves to him.
It was now a pleasure to Wade to rise very early in the morning and
glance out through the breaking day toward the Cumberland, and watch the
mountain grow through the dewy mist until she was plain to view. It was
even a pleasure to him to watch her disappear with the departing day.
So when he bade Nora good-night he went down to his own cabin with a
light heart, still followed by the good brown dog, Rover, which had
taken up with him so firmly that he went home only when Nora blew the
horn. He always obeyed this call, and trotted off gayly, but when the
morning light appeared he was back again lying on Wade's little porch as
comfortably as he desired to be. Wade was very glad of the dog's
friendship, for he helped to dissolve the terrible gloom that sometimes
gathered over him. He took great delight in talking to the dog while he
was preparing his meals, and never forgot to put in an extra allowance
for Rover.
"Now, Rover," he said, "you like your eggs better raw, perhaps, and no
doubt, if you have been getting them at all, you have had to take them
that way; but this is quite a different hotel, and you shall have to
cultivate a taste for fried eggs, as that is the way I like them best,
and that is certainly the easiest and quickest way to get them
prepared."
Rover whined and wagged his shaggy tail.
"In this country, Rover, old boy," continued Wade, "where every fellow
is looking about for someone he can kill, a fellow, if he would eat at
all, must get his lunch the quickest way he can; so you must not be
angry if you must eat fried eggs."
Rover gave a low bark, seeming to understand fully. He watched the
preparation of the meal with pleasure. When Jack moved to another part
of the room Rover trotted quickly over there, as though he feared some
portion of the work would be lost to him. When Wade stood over the
little stove Rover was there looking longingly up at him.
"Now," said Wade, "you don't like coffee, Rover, and there is where you
are lucky. You are wise not to drink it. I ought not to drink coffee,
but how could I stand the strain of all that I look for should I not
take some stimulant? I don't drink whisky, Rover--that is wrong for a
fellow to do; I don't chew tobacco nor smoke a pipe, so what? I must
drink coffee. Some men say that man is so constituted that his system
calls for a stimulant; but I don't believe that, Rover, do you? Now here
you are, old friend, a nice slice of good bread made by your dear
mistress, a piece of bacon, and a whole egg fried. My, what a lunch for
an old dog which has not been used to anything but kicks and curses all
his life!"
Rover barked gleefully while Jack put a tin platter on the floor and
placed the food into it, and they ate in silence.
After the meal was over Jack went out to sit awhile on his little porch,
while Rover dropped down at his feet. They had not been comfortably
seated very long when Rover rose to a sitting position and looked in the
direction of his home. Wade knew from his anxious look that he had heard
something. In another second the long, loud blast from Nora's horn came
trembling through the night air and reached their ears.
"What's that for, old dog?" Jack spoke to Rover. Then the sound came
again, and Rover bolted off without further ceremony.
Wade arose and stood for a moment listening. It was peculiar that the
dog should be called at night unless he was badly needed. As he
listened, Wade heard two distinct rifle shots coming from the direction
of Peter Judson's home. "Something up," he said, gathering his own rifle
and starting out, meaning to go up and learn what the trouble could be.
Instead of taking the road, Wade went out through his own pasture and
through Judson's field. The old man had taught him caution, and he knew
how to use it. He went on as hurriedly as possible until he reached
Judson's horse-lot, then he began to peer about. He could see Peter
moving about in front of the light at the house, but nothing strange
appeared to be taking place. Then he saw old Peter come to the door and
look eagerly toward the road.
"What's the trouble?" asked Wade, from behind.
"I thought that'd bring ye, Jack," said Peter, turning quickly, "and ye
fooled me, too. Ye air gittin' 'long all right, now, boy. Well, they's
a-goin' ter be so much fun ter-night that hit jest looked like I
couldn't help axin' ye fer ther fust time ter jine us. Ye see, Tom
a-bein' a little sore, hit'll make ther road seem a little lonely to me,
an' ef ye want ter see ther fun ye kin take Tom's big black an' come
'long with me. Have yer got yer little shootin' irons 'long?"
"Nothing save my rifle," said Jack wonderingly.
"Well, ye kin use Tom's, an' they air as good as ye kin find in this
kintry. Ye hain't a-feered, air ye?"
"I fear nothing," said Wade; "but I'd like to know what's up. I don't
want to run into anything that won't be good for me."
"Go with him, Jack," said Nora. "You'll see the fun, sure."
"Yes," said Peter. "Ther hosses air ready, an' I'll tell ye all 'bout it
while we go 'long. We have ter travel nearly to the Tennessee line afore
midnight, so les' hurry."
Wade buckled the pistols on, mounted the prancing horse, and started out
somewhat dubious as to the fate of himself. He had learned to trust old
Peter fully, however, and there could possibly be nothing to fear from
him. Beside, Nora had told him to go along, and there could absolutely
be nothing harmful to him in going.
"Ye see, Jack," explained Peter as they rode rapidly toward the big
mountain, "I told ye t'other day 'bout them durn scamps what'd jine ther
association an' then do all they could ter throw it down. Them's ther
biggest scoundrels what we have ter deal against. They're the snakes in
the grass, an' we don't ever know jest whar they air at. We cain't put
our fingers on 'em when we want 'em, but ever now an' agin' somebody
runs agin' 'em, an' that's what's up ter-night. We air a-goin' ter flog
one o' them fellers now. Ye see that dark-lookin' spot up ther road?
Well, them is 'bout fifteen horsemen. Now git that cap out'n Tom's
saddle-bags an' draw hit down over yer head,--hit'll fit yer,--an' don't
say 'nuther word from now till I ax yer to. When we git yonder that
black bunch'll move out an' nobody'll say anything. Jest keep a-goin',
an' ef ye git lost from me, say nothin', but keep a-goin', and I'll find
ye. I won't have ter show ye any more after ter-night, I 'low. Now keep
quiet."
Old Peter almost whispered the last sentence. Jack Wade understood and
kept quiet, as he had been instructed. When they rode into the black
mass one wild yell from those strong-lunged farmers rent the air, and
everybody for miles around knew that some farmer somewhere was nearing
the danger line. The swift ride through the cool night air was
exhilarating, and the excitement, being entirely new to Wade, was just
to his liking. He had been unconsciously drawn into a midnight raid with
those hated Nightriders. When it dawned upon his mind that he was
actually taking part in a great midnight raid, and would soon witness
cruel treatment from the hands of those he was aiding and abetting, a
cold chill ran over his frame. Still, the punishment was going to be
meted out to one who, in an extreme moment, was about to do a thing
which would affect every man, woman, and child in the whole country. He
would sell his tobacco for a price which would not permit a living, and
he must stop or suffer the consequence.
They rode until it seemed to Wade that the foaming horses must drop from
sheer exhaustion. That was impossible. They were used to such trips, and
could no doubt keep up the pace for many hours. Supreme quiet reigned.
There was no sound save that made by the clatter of many horses' feet
striking the soft dirt. When they passed some quiet farmhouse, where all
was silent within, a dog would bay loudly or set up a terrifying howl,
which could be heard until they were far beyond.
The moments soon turned into hours. Finally they drew rein in front of a
large farmhouse. Jack thought, as he looked at it through those
peep-holes in his cap, that he had not seen such a large and handsome
place since he arrived in the country. Barns and out-houses were
plentiful, trees and shrubbery were plentiful. This was the home of a
more wealthy farmer. They were now awaiting a signal from the leader,
when every pistol should be fired into the air to intimidate the
sleeping victim within.
Someone spoke. "When I fire," he said, "then you can all fire; but no
man must fire mor'n once."
The dog in the back yard had now made the discovery that someone was
about to intrude upon his master's domain and, faithful dog that he was,
he dashed out to face the enemy alone. When he reached the front,
yelping and baying, the signal gun was fired. The bullet struck the dog
squarely in the forehead, and with a short yelp he fell dead. Almost
simultaneously other pistols were fired, yet not so simultaneously as
not to be discerned separately. The Riders, who knew their business so
well, quickly separated and surrounded the house. From within came the
victim, who, when he heard the shooting, suspected immediately that
danger lurked near, and darted out of the house intending to make his
escape by the back way.
He was caught by the strong hands of two farmers, who lead him out to
where their horses stood, followed by others. No one spoke a word. The
spectacle was new to Wade, who followed on in silence. The victim was
lead out to a strip of woodland, where he was stripped of every stitch
of clothing, bent over a fallen tree trunk and--it is too horrible a
tale to tell. The vividness of it will stand forever in the minds of the
few. No, he was not murdered, but worse. The great leather straps with
holes in them were far worse than bullets from a forty-four gun. Mr.
Openraiser begged for mercy like a child. He promised that his tobacco
would not be sold, and he would be a good obedient member in the future.
It was afterward learned that he kept his promise.