Nora gradually regained her old strength, and after a few weeks had
passed she was going about doing her domestic duties as before. Jack
Wade was sorrowful no longer, and Rover was himself once more.
When the good dog saw Wade coming through the gate he began wagging his
tail and showing by other signs that he was as happy as the human beings
about him. When Wade departed for his own cabin Rover would accompany
him, sometimes halfway, sometimes the entire distance, as if he believed
harm would come to his friend unless he kept close watch over him.
Somehow, Rover had a better instinct in sniffing danger than most dogs,
and when there was the least intimation of danger or trouble Rover
scented it very early, and generally conveyed the news to those about
him in his own good way. He was fully understood, his language was well
known to his masters, and they knew by his actions what was about to
happen.
Thus it was that, when Wade was doing his evening chores, Rover came
galloping into the horse-lot, baying in a troubled fashion. Something
was about to happen. Rover never acted in this manner unless it was so.
He ran whining to Wade, caught his boot-leg between his teeth and
pulled; then letting loose, darted rapidly toward the gate, back again,
barking in a manner indicating fear, taking the boot-leg again and
pulling vigorously.
"What, old boy," said Wade, "some more trouble in the air? Well, just be
patient until I can lock this door and get my good weapons, and we shall
see what it's all about."
So speaking to the dog, Wade locked the barn, hurried into the house
and, taking his two pistols and rifle, started cautiously up the lane
toward Judson's cabin. Night had fallen and the moon was just peeping up
over the hills, sending forth a dim dusty light, while the sky was
canopied with a very thin white cloud and the stars gave forth no light
at all. Wade made his way as noiselessly as possible, followed by Rover.
Looking in the direction of Judson's, he saw a streak of light made from
the flash of a rifle shot, followed by a faint report, which meant a
bullet to where he knew not. He knew that the long looked for trouble
was on in real earnest, therefore hastened his pace. The firing from
many rifles became more general. He had got close enough to see that
there were more than a half dozen combatants firing on Judson's cabin
from toward the hill. Judson and his son Tom were returning the fire at
intervals in an effort to repulse the attack, and had been successful in
holding off a rush. From his position Wade could have taken off two of
the opponents before they discovered him, but the flashing fire of his
rifle, however, would have disclosed his hiding place.
He thought for a moment, raised his rifle to his shoulder and took
deliberate aim at a foe sitting on the back of his horse. No, that would
be murder straight out. God forbid! Still, the impulse to fire clung to
him, but he could not seem to pull the trigger. The firing between the
combatants now became more furious, and suddenly he heard someone in the
house cry out with pain. Again he took aim at the man nearest him,
fully intending to put out the light of life. His finger touched the
trigger and in another moment one would have been slain, when a hand was
laid gently upon his shoulder. It was so sudden, however, in that
terrible moment, that fright ran through him and he accidentally pulled
the trigger of his rifle, but the ball went high into the air. He was
hastily pulled into the cover of the barn.
The effects of his shot worked terror to the hearts of the attacking
party, however, who thought they were being surrounded on all sides by
unknown foes, therefore took time by the forelock and fled in great
confusion toward the hills. But look! one horse bounded off riderless.
Could it be possible that one was in hiding near, and intended doing a
bit of guerrilla fighting?
Wade stood like one transfixed to the spot, looking after the fleeing
horses of the enemy, not once turning to see who touched him, until the
last fleeing form had passed from view and the firing had ceased
altogether; then he turned and stood face to face with Nora Judson. A
flush, unseen through the darkness, covered his hitherto pale face. For
one brief moment they stood facing each other.
"How came you here?" he asked.
"Our mutual friend told me that you was about to fall into an error."
She looked toward Rover, who stood at one side wagging his tail. "Jack,"
she said, tenderly yet sorrowfully, "you were about to commit murder."
"I _might_ have killed one of those fellows, but I cannot see that it
would have been murder in a real sense; we are enemies, and this has
been a small war."
"But you were about to take the life of someone in a manner that I would
not call bravery. You were not in front of the battle as an open enemy.
The fellow you would have killed knew nothing of your presence here, and
that would have been cold-blooded murder."
"What is the difference in this country, where all is murder?"
Wade was evidently trying to relieve his conscience.
"The difference is not with the other fellow, but with you. I am glad,
however, that you did not kill him."
"I am also glad of that, Nora, thanks to you." They were now walking
toward the cabin. "Was anyone inside hurt?" asked Wade. "I heard someone
cry painfully."
"That was Dad's ruse to draw them to a closer range, but it was the
accidental discharge of your rifle that put a stop to the fight."
Peter Judson was cautiously peering about, when he espied Wade and Nora.
"Hi, thar!" he said. "Be ye enemies or friends?"
"Friends," replied Wade.
"Ye jest missed some fun, shore. Reckon we give them fellers 'bout as
good a scare as ever they had, don't you think?"
"From the way they retreated," said Wade, "I believe they were
frightened; but we must be very careful, Judson,--one horse went up the
hill riderless."
Old man Peter scratched his head. "The dickens ye say. Reckon what that
means, Wade?"
"That someone is lurking around in the dark to pick us off when we least
expect it."
"Wade, ye don't know these fellers yet, long's ye've been here.
Somebody's lyin' out yonder dead, as shore as you live. Tom, git the
lantern an' come on; let's take a look."
Followed by Tom and Wade, Peter went out the gate toward the spot where
the enemy were located while the fighting was going on. Old Peter, that
old time scout of the mountains, stopped and stood in a listening
attitude. Now he heard the faint groan from someone to the left of them;
his trained ear carried him to the fallen man.
"Hi, thar, friend!" he called out; "whar air ye?"
"I'm dyin'," came back the groaning reply, "I'm dyin', shore; this
time."
Peter went on and bent over the fallen form. Throwing the glare of his
lantern in the face of the man, he gasped, "My God! it's Al Thompson."
"Yes, it's Al, old man; ye got me this time." Thompson was speaking
laboriously, while Wade and those near listened breathlessly. Thompson
was dying sure enough. His last words were a curse against those who had
been his enemies. "Ye got me now, damn ye!" he said, "but I'll git ye
when ye come down ter t'other world, ye----"
Thompson could say no more.
Peter looked into the pale face. "He's dead, shore, boys; he's a goner
now, an' won't give us any more trouble."
Just at this juncture there could be heard the sound of the heavy beat
of horses coming over the mountain.
"Git back a little, quick!" said Peter, "they mout be more trouble in
the air."
There was no further danger, however, for old Jim Thompson came over
the mountain bearing the flag of truce; with him were two other men.
"Hey, Judson!" he cried, "come out quick. There will be no more fightin'
from this side." Old man Thompson was quite surprised to hear Judson
reply from a very few feet away: "Ef ye mean that, Jim, hit's good news,
an' I'm with ye; but ef ye air a-jokin' or workin' a game, ye better go
slow."
"I'm sincere, Peter," replied Thompson. "Ye've shot my arm off agin
to-night an' killed Al, an' I've got 'nough, an' nuthin' left to fight
fer. It's no fault o' yours, as I kin see."
"I'm willin' ter be yer friend, Jim. Git down an' les hold prayer over
Al's dead body, an' bind this covenant over him so's ther fust one as
breaks it, let them what hears kill us then an' thar."
Wade and Nora stood off a few paces and, though there was gloom about
the mountain side for some, they were very happy with the thought that
with Al Thompson out of the way their troubles would forever end.
* * * * *
There remains no more incidents to be related in the story of John
Redmond's desire for revenge, other than to relate that he told his
secret to Nora, who in turn told her father all. Peter related the full
circumstances of the death of the elder John Redmond, and proved beyond
the shadow of a doubt that Al Thompson slew him single handed.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Nightrider's Feud, by Walter C. McConnell