Our absence was of short duration--a turn to the tents and back again.
While there, I had spoken a word to Wingrove and Sure-shot. Archilete
was still absent. I had warned my comrades not to picket our horses at
too great a distance from the tents: as we knew not how soon we might
need them. Little thought I, as I delivered this cautionary counsel,
that within the hour--nay, almost within that minute--we should be
hastening to mount and be gone! Our idea had been that some time about
midnight--perhaps later--when the camp should be buried in sleep--
Lilian, already warned that we were in wait for her, would steal forth
and join us at the tents. Thence, trusting to the speed of our horses,
we should find no difficulty in escaping--even though pursuit might be
given on the instant of our departure. We were all well-mounted--as
well, at least, as the Mormons could be--and with a guide who knew the
passes, we should have the advantage of them.
It did not occur to Marian or myself, that that very moment might have
been more appropriate for flight, than the hour of midnight or any
other. Then, in the midst of their noisy revelry, when all eyes were
turned upon the dance, and souls absorbed in the giddy whirl of
pleasure--when slight sounds were unnoticed amidst the swelling music
and the clangour of voices--when even the hoof-stroke of a galloping
horse would have fallen unheard or unheeded--then, indeed, would have
been the very time for our designed abduction! The idea did not occur
to either of us. I cannot tell why it did not: unless it was that we
were hindered from thinking of final measures, by our uncertainty as to
the _disposition_ of Lilian. Her consent was _now_ the most important
condition to our success--as her refusal would be its grandest obstacle.
Surely she would _not_ refuse? We could not for a moment harbour the
apprehension. By this time she must have read the letter? We could now
safely speak face to face with her--that is, if opportunity should be
found for an interview. To seek that opportunity, therefore, were we
returning a second time to the rear of the waggons. The candle was yet
burning under the tilt. Its flame feebly illuminated the canvas. We
drew near with stealthy tread, taking notice that we were not observed.
We stood once more by the end of the huge vehicle. We were raising our
eyes to look through the curtain, when at that instant the light went
out. Some one had suddenly extinguished it! One might have regarded
this as an ill omen; but, the moment after, we could hear a slight
rustling sound--as of some one moving under the cover of the waggon, and
passing along towards its hinder end. We stood silent, listening to the
sound. It ceased at length; but, immediately after, the edge of the
curtain was raised slowly, and without noise. A face appeared in the
opening! There was scarcely any light; but even through the grim
darkness that lovely face gleamed soft and white. Marian stood nearest,
and easily recognised it. In a tender tone she pronounced the magic
word: "Sister!"
"O Marian! sister! is it you?"
"Yes, dearest Lil! But hush! speak low!"
"Are you yet alive, dear Marian? or am I dreaming?"
"No dream, sister, but a reality."
"O mercy! tell me, sister--"
"All--all--but not now--there is no time."
"But _he_, dear sister? who is he that is with you?"
I stepped near enough to reply in a whisper: "One, Lilian, who _thinks
of thee_!"
"O sir! Edward!--Edward!--it is you!"
"Hush!" whispered Marian, again interposing with a quick gesture of
caution. "Speak only in whispers! Lilian!" continued she in a firm
tone, "you must fly with us!"
"From our father? Do you mean that, Marian?"
"From our father--ay, even from him!"
"O dear sister! what will he say? what will he do, if I forsake him?--
Our poor father!--"
There was anguish in the tones of her voice, that told of filial
affection still strong and true, however much it may have been trampled
upon.
"Say and do?" interrupted Marian. "He will rejoice--_should_ rejoice--
when he knows the danger from which you have escaped. O sister! dear
sister! believe me--believe your own Marian! A fearful fate is before
you. Flight with us can alone save you. Even father will soon be
powerless to protect you, _as he was to protect me_. Do not hesitate
then, but say you will go with us? Once beyond the reach of those
villains who surround you, all will be well."
"And our father, Marian?"
"No harm will come to him. It is not his ruin they seek; but yours,
sister, yours!" A choking sigh was all the reply I could hear. It
appeared to be a signal that the spell was broken: as if the heart had
escaped from some thraldom in which it had been long held. Had the
words of Marian produced conviction? or had they but confirmed some
apprehension previously conceived? Was it the snapping of the filial
thread I had heard in that anguished expression? Both the sigh and the
silence that followed seemed to signify assent. To make more sure, I
was about to add the influence of my intervention, with all the fervency
of a lover's appeal. Wild words were upon my lips; when at that moment
some strange interjections reached my ears, uttered within the
enclosure. I stepped suddenly to one side, and looked over the wheels
of the waggon. There I beheld a spectacle that caused the blood to rush
through my veins in quick quivering current. Marian saw it at the same
time. Holt had been seated near the fire, when seen but the moment
before; but, as we now looked through, we saw that he had risen to his
feet, and was standing in an attitude that betrayed some singular
excitement! It was from him the interjections had proceeded. The cause
was easily explained. The dog Wolf was leaping up against his legs--
uttering low growls of recognition, and making other demonstrations of
joy. The animal had identified its old master! Despite the stained
snout and close-trimmed tonsure--despite both paint and shears--the dog
had been also identified. Between him and his master the recognition
was mutual. I saw this at a glance; and the speeches of the squatter
only confirmed what was already evident to the eye.
"Durn it, ef 'taint my ole dog!" cried he, after several shorter
exclamations--"my ole dog Wolf! Hullo, Stebbins!" continued he, facing
sharply round to the Saint; "what's the meanin' o' this? Didn't you
tell me that he wur dead?"
Stebbins had turned pale as a sheet; and I could see his thin lips
quivering with excitement. It was less fear than some other passion
that was playing upon his features; and too easily could I conjecture
the current of thought that was running through his brain. The presence
of that animal must have called up a train of reflections, far wilder
and stranger than those that were passing through the mind of the
squatter; and I could perceive that he was making an effort to conceal
his emotions. "'Tis a very odd circumstance," said he, speaking in a
tone of assumed surprise--"very odd indeed! It is your dog, certainly,
though the animal has been disfigured. I _thought_ he was dead. The
men of our spring caravan told me so. They said that the wolves had
killed him."
"Wolves! durn it, I mout a know'd they kudn't a killed him--not all the
wolves on the parairies! Why thur ain't the scratch o' a claw on him!
Whar did he come from anyhow? Who's brought him hyur?"
I could see that Stebbins was desirous of parrying the question. He
gave an evasive answer. "Who knows? He has likely been in the hands of
some Indians--the paint shows that--and preferring the company of
whites, he has followed us, and strayed into the camp."
"Did he come with them ere Injuns that's outside?" quickly inquired
Holt.
"No?--I fancy not with them," answered the Mormon, in whose glance I
could detect the falsehood.
"Let's go an' see!" proposed the squatter, making a step towards the
entrance of the corral.
"No--not to-night, Holt!" hastily interposed the other, and with an
eagerness that showed the interest he felt in procrastinating the
inquiry. "We must not disturb them to-night. In the morning, we can
see them, and learn all about it."
"Durn about disturbin' them! Why not to-night, instead o' the mornin'?"
"Well--if you wish to know to-night, I'll go myself, and speak to the
guide. No doubt, if the dog came with them, he can tell us all about
it? You stay here till I return?"
"Don't be long then. Ho, Wolf! ole fellur! Injuns have had ye, eh?
Durn it, old boy! I'm as gled to see ye, as if--"
An unexpected reflection was called forth by the form of speech--not
that to which he was about to give words--but one whose bitterness, not
only hindered him from saying what he had intended, but caused him
instantly to abandon his caresses of the dog. Staggering back to his
seat, he dropped heavily down upon it--at the same time burying his face
in his hands. The expression upon the Mormon's features, as he parted
from the fire, was one of demoniac significance. Clearly he
comprehended all! I saw him gliding off through, the corral, with
silent stealthy tread, like some restless spirit of darkness. Here and
there he paused; and for a moment held one in conversation--then quickly
passing on to another. There was no mistaking the object of these
manoeuvres. As clearly as if declared. I divined their intent. _He
was summoning the "Destroyers_!"
Not a moment was to be lost. I rushed back to the rear of the waggon;
and with open arms gave utterance to my anguished appeal. But it needed
not that, Marian had been, before me. Both she and her sister had
witnessed the scene within the corral. Both already foresaw the coming
storm: and ere my lips could close, after delivering the impassioned
speech, Lilian Holt lay upon my bosom! It was the first time that fair
cheek had pressed upon my shoulder--the first time those soft arms had
entwined around my neck! Not for an instant dared I indulge in the
sweet embrace. If we lingered, it might be the last! To the tents! to
the tents! I knew that the horses would be waiting. A signal already
given should have warned my comrades; and I had no conjecture, no fear
about their being in readiness. As I expected, we found them all--both
men and horses--the steeds saddled, bridled, and ready. The Mexican was
there with the rest. The apparition of the dog had given him his cue;
and he had hurriedly returned to the tents. We thought not of these,
nor of the other paraphernalia--neither our mules nor their packs. Our
lives and liberty alone concerned us. My Arab neighed joyfully, as I
sprang into the saddle. He was proud to carry that fairer form upon the
croup; and, as he bounded forward over the plain, his triumphant snort
told, that he understood the glorious service he was called upon to
perform.
As we parted from the tents, we could see a number of dark forms rushing
out from the avenue. In the red glare their shadows were projected far
over the plain--even in advance of our horses. They were the shadows of
men afoot; and we soon galloped beyond them. The music had suddenly
ceased; and the murmuring hum of the dancers had given place to shouts
and loud cries, that betokened a _stampede_ in the camp. We could
distinguish the voices of men calling to the horse-guards; and, soon
after, the quick trampling of hoofs, as the animals were hurried up to
the enclosure. But we had very little uneasiness about the pursuit. We
were too well-mounted to fear being overtaken; and, as we galloped off
into the night, with confidence could we echo the cry of the bold
borderer: "They'll have fleet steeds that follow!"