triumphantly. The walls caught the infrequent mirthful sound, and
reverberated with a hollow repetition. From the dark forest just beyond
the moon-flooded clearing the echo rang out. There was a subtle, weird
influence in those exultant tones, rising and falling by fitful starts
in that tangled, wooded desert; now loud and close at hand, now the
faintest whisper of a sound. The men all turned their slow eyes toward
the sombre shadows, so black beneath the silver moon, and then looked
at each other.
"It's 'bout time fur me ter be a-startin'," said the old hunter.
"Whenever I hear them critters a-laffin' that thar way in them woods I
puts out fur home an' bars up the door, fur I hev hearn tell ez how the
sperits air a-prowlin' round then, an' some mischief is a-happenin'."
"'T ain't nuthin' but Budd Wray a-laffin'," said the store-keeper
reassuringly. "I hev hearn them thar rocks an' things a-answerin' back
every minute in the day, when anybody hollers right loud."
"They don't laff, though, like they war a-laffin' jes' a while ago."
"No, they don't," admitted the store-keeper reluctantly; "but mebbe it
air 'kase thar is nobody round hyar ez hev got much call ter laff."
He was unaware of the lurking melancholy in this speech, and it passed
unnoticed by the others.
"It's this hyar a-foolin' along of Old Sledge an' sech ez calls the
sperits up," said the old hunter. "An' ef ye knows what air good fur
ye, ye'll light out from hyar an' go home. They air a-laffin' yit"--He
interrupted himself, and glanced out of the door.
The faintest staccato laugh thrilled from among the leaves. And then
all was silent, not even the bark of a dog nor a tremulous whisper of
the night-wind.
The other elderly man, who had not yet spoken, rose from his seat by
the fire. "I'm a-goin', too," he said. "I kem hyar ter the Settlemint,"
he added, turning upon the gamblers, "'kase I hev been called ter warn
ye o' the wickedness o' yer ways, ez Jonah afore me war tole ter go up
ter Nineveh ter warn the folks thar."
"Things turns out powerful cur'ous wunst in a while," retorted Wray.
"He war swallowed by a whale arterward."
"'Kase he wouldn't do ez he war tole; but even thar Providence
perfected him. He kem out'n the whale agin, what nobody kin do ez gits
swallowed in the pit. They hev ter stay."
"It hain't me ez keeps up this hyar game," said Wray sullenly, but
stung to a slight repentance by this allusion to the pit. "It air
Josiah hyar ez is a-aimin' ter win back the truck he hev los'; an' so
air Tom, hyar. I hev hed toler'ble luck along o' this Old Sledge, but
they know, an' they hev got ter stand up ter it, ez I never axed none
of 'em ter play. Ef they scorches tharselves with this hyar coal o'
fire from hell, ez ye calls it, Josiah brung it, an' it air Tom an' him
a-blowin' on it ez hev kep' it a-light."
"I ain't a-goin' ter quit," said Josiah Tait angrily, the loser's
desperate eagerness pulsing hot and quick through his veins,--"I ain't
a-goin' ter quit till I gits back that thar brindled heifer an' that
thar gray mare out yander, what Budd air a-ridin', an' them thar two
wagon-loads o' corn."
"We hev said our say, an' we air a-goin'," remarked one of the unheeded
counselors.
"An' play on of yer kyerds!" cried Josiah to the others, in a louder,
shriller voice than was his wont, as the two elderly men stepped out of
the door. The woods caught the sound and gave it back in a higher key.
"S'pose we stops fur ter-night," suggested the store-keeper; "them thar
rocks do sound sort 'n cur'ous now."
"I ain't a-goin' ter stop fur nuthin' an' nobody!" exclaimed Josiah,
in a tremor of keen anxiety to be at the sport. "Dad-burn the sperits!
Let 'em come in, an' I 'll deal 'em a hand. Thar! that trick is mine.
Play ter this hyar queen o' trumps."
The royal lady was recklessly thrown upon the basket, with all her foes
in ambush. Somehow, they did not present themselves. Tom was destitute,
and Budd followed with the seven. Josiah again pocketed the trick with
unction. This trifling success went disproportionately far in calming
his agitation, and for a time he played more needfully. Tom Scruggs's
caution made ample amends for his lack of experience. So slow was he,
and so much time did he require for consideration, that more than once
he roused his companions to wrath. The anxieties with which he was
beset preponderated over the pleasure afforded by the sport, and the
winning back of a half-bushel measure, which he had placed in jeopardy
and lost, so satisfied this prudent soul that he announced at the end
of the game that he would play no more for this evening. The others
were welcome, though, to continue if they liked, and he would sit by
and look on. He snuffed the blinking tallow dip, and reseated himself,
an eager spectator of the play that followed.
Wray was a cool hand. Despite the awkward, unaccustomed clutch upon the
cards and the doubtful recognition he bestowed on each as it fell upon
the basket, he displayed an imperturbability and nerve that usually
come only of long practice, and a singular pertinacity in pursuing
the line of tactics he had marked out,--lying in wait and pouncing
unerringly upon his prey in the nick of time. The brindled heifer's
mother followed her offspring into his ownership; a yoke of oxen, a
clay-bank filly, ten hogs,--every moment he was growing richer. But
his success did not for an instant shake his stolid calm, quicken his
blood, nor relax his vigilant attention; his exultation was held well
in hand under the domination of a strong will and a settled purpose.
Josiah Tait became almost maddened by these heavy losses; his hands
trembled, his eager exclamations were incoherent, his dull eyes blazed
at fever heat, and ever and anon the echo of his shrill, raised voice
rang back from the untiring rocks.
The single spectator of the game now and then, in the intervals of
shuffling and dealing the cards, glanced over his shoulder at the
dark trees whence the hidden mimic of the woods, with some strong
suggestion of sinister intent, repeated the agitated tones. There was
a silver line all along the summit of the foliage, along the roofs of
the houses and the topmost rails of the fences; a sense of freshness
and dew pervaded the air, and the grass was all a-sparkle. The shadows
of the laurel about the door were beginning to fall on the step, every
leaf distinctly defined in the moon's magical tracery. He knew without
looking up that she had passed the meridian, and was swinging down the
western sky.
"Boys," he said, in a husky under-tone,--he dared not speak aloud,
for the mocker in the woods,--"boys, I reckon it's 'bout time we war
a-quittin' o' this hyar a-playin' of Old Sledge; it's midnight an'
past, an' Budd hev tolerable fur ter go."
The tallow dip, that had long been flickering near its end, suddenly
went out, and the party suffered a partial eclipse. Josiah Tait dragged
the inverted basket closer to the door and into the full brilliance
of the moon, declaring that neither Wray nor he should leave the
house till he had retrieved his misfortunes or lost every thing in
the effort. The host, feeling that even hospitality has its limits,
did not offer to light another expensive candle, but threw a quantity
of pine-knots on the smouldering coals; presently a white blaze was
streaming up the chimney, and in the mingled light of fire and moon the
game went on.
"Ye oughter take keer, Josiah," remonstrated the sad-voiced
store-keeper, as a deep groan and a deep curse emphasized the result of
high, jack, and game for Wray, and low alone for Tait. "An' it's 'bout
time ter quit."
"Dad-burn the luck!" exclaimed Josiah, in a hard, strained voice, "I
ain't a-goin' ter leave this hyar spot till I hev won back them thar
critters o' mine what he hev tuk. An' I kin do it,--I kin do it in one
more game. I'll bet--I'll bet"--he paused in bewildered excitement; he
had already lost to Wray everything available as a stake. There was a
sudden unaccountable gleam of malice on the lucky winner's face; the
quick glance flashed in the moonlight into the distended hot eyes of
his antagonist. Wray laughed silently, and began to push his chair away
from the basket.
"Stop! stop!" cried Josiah, hoarsely. "I hev got a house,--a house
an' fifty acres, nigh about. I'll bet the house an' land agin what ye
hev won from me,--them two cows, an' the brindled heifer, an' the
gray mare, an' the clay-bank filly, an' them ten hogs, an' the yoke o'
steers, an' the wagon, an' the corn,--them two loads o' corn: that will
'bout make it even, won't it?" He leaned forward eagerly as he asked
the question.
"Look a-hyar, Josiah," exclaimed the store-keeper, aghast, "this hyar
is a-goin' too fur! Hain't ye los' enough a'ready but ye must be
a-puttin' up the house what shelters ye? Look at me, now: I ain't done
los' nothin' but the half-bushel measure, an' I hev got it back agin.
An' it air a blessin' that I _hev_ got it agin, for 'twould hev been
mighty ill-convenient round hyar 'thout it."
"Will ye take it?" said Josiah, almost pleadingly, persistently
addressing himself to Wray, regardless of the remonstrant host. "Will
ye put up the critters agin the house an' land?"
Wray made a feint of hesitating. Then he signified his willingness
by seating himself and beginning to deal the cards, saying before he
looked at his hand, "That thar house an' land o' yourn agin the truck
ez I hev won from ye?"
"Oh, Lord, boys, this _must_ be sinful!" remonstrated the proprietor
of the cherished half-bushel measure, appalled by the magnitude of the
interests involved.
"Hold yer jaw! hold yer jaw!" said Josiah Tait. "I kin hardly make out
one kyerd from another while ye're a-preachin' away, same ez the rider!
I done tole ye, Budd," turning again to Wray, "I'll put up the house
an' land agin the truck. I'll git a deed writ fur ye in the mornin', ef
ye win it," he added, hastily, thinking he detected uncertainty still
lurking in the expression of Wray's face. "The court air a-goin' tar
sit hyar ter-morrer, an' the lawyers from the valley towns will be hyar
toler'ble soon, I reckon. An' I'll git ye a deed writ fust thing in the
mornin'."
"Ye hearn him say it?" said Wray, turning to Tom Scruggs.
"I hearn him," was the reply.
And the game went on.
"I beg," said Josiah, piteously, after carefully surveying his hand.
"I ain't a-goin' ter deal ye nare 'nother kyerd," said Wray. "Ye kin
take a pint fust."
The point was scored by the faithful looker-on in Josiah's favor. High,
low, and game were made by Wray, jack being in the pack. Thus the score
was three to one. In the next deal, the trump, a spade, was allowed
by Wray to stand. He led the king. "I'm low, anyhow," said Josiah, in
momentary exultation, as he played the deuce to it. Wray next led the
ace whisking for the jack, and caught it.
"Dad-burn the rotten luck!" cried Josiah.
With the advantage of high and jack a foregone conclusion, Wray began
to play warily for game. But despite his caution he lost the next
trick. Josiah was in doubt how to follow up this advantage; after an
anxious interval of cogitation he said, "I b'lieve I'll throw away
fur a while," and laid that safe card, the five of diamonds, upon the
basket. "Tom," he added, "put on some more o' them knots. I kin hardly
tell what I'm a-doin' of. I hev got the shakes, an' somehow 'nother my
eyes is cranky, and wobble so ez I can't see."
The white sheets of flame went whizzing merrily up the chimney, and the
clear light fell full upon the basket as Wray laid upon the five the
ten of diamonds.
"Lord! Josiah!" exclaimed Tom Scruggs, becoming wild, and even more ill
judged than usual, beginning to feel as if he were assisting at his
friend's obsequies, and to have a more decided conviction that this way
of coming by house and land and cattle and goods was sinful. "Lord!
Josiah! that thar kyerd he's done saved 'll count him ten fur game. Ye
had better hev played that thar queen o' di'monds, an' dragged it out
'n him."
"Good Lord in heaven!" shrieked Josiah, in a frenzy at this
unwarrantable disclosure.
"Lord in heaven!" rang loud from the depths of the dark woods.
"Heaven!" softly vibrated the distant heights. The crags close at hand
clanged back the sound, and the air was filled with repetitions of the
word, growing fainter and fainter, till they might have seemed the echo
of a whisper.
The men neither heard nor heeded. Tom Scruggs, although appreciating
the depth of the infamy into which he had unwittingly plunged, was
fully resolved to stand stoutly upon the defensive,--he even extended
his hand to take down his gun, which was laid across a couple of nails
on the wall.
"Hold on, Josiah,--hold on!" cried Wray, as Tait drew his knife. "Tom
never went fur ter tell, an' I'll give ye a ten ter make it fair.
Thar's the ten o' hearts; an' a ten is the mos' ez that thar critter of
a queen could hev made out ter hev tuk, anyhow."
Josiah hesitated.
"That thar is the mos' ez she could hev done," said the store-keeper,
smoothing over the results of his carelessness. "The jacks don't count
but fur one apiece, so that thar ten is the mos' ez she could hev made
out ter git, even ef I hedn't a-forgot an' tole Budd she war in yer
hand."
Josiah was mollified by this very equitable proposal, and resuming his
chair he went on with the play. The ten of hearts which he had thus
secured was, however, of no great avail in counting for game. Wray had
already high and jack, and game was added to these. The score therefore
stood six to two in his favor.
The perennial faith of the gambler in the next turn of the wheel was
strong in Josiah Tait. Despite his long run of bad luck, he was still
animated by the feverish delusion that the gracious moment was surely
close at hand when success would smile upon him. Wray, it was true,
needed to score only one point to turn him out of house and land,
homeless and penniless. He was confident it would never be scored. If
he could make the four chances he would be even with his antagonist,
and then he could win back in a single point all that he had lost. His
face wore a haggard, eager expectation, and the agitation of the moment
thrilled through every nerve. He watched with fiery eyes the dealing of
the cards, and after hastily scrutinizing his hand he glanced with keen
interest to see the trump turned. It was a knave, counting one for the
dealer. There was a moment of intense silence; he seemed petrified as
his eyes met the triumphant gaze of his opponent. The next instant he
was at Wray's throat.
The shadows of the swaying figures reeled across the floor, marring
the exquisite arabesque of moonshine and laurel leaves,--quick, hard
panting, a deep oath, and spasmodic efforts on the part of each to draw
a sharp knife prevented by the strong intertwining arms of the other.
The store-keeper, at a safe distance, remonstrated with both, to no
purpose, and as the struggle could end only in freeing a murderous
hand he rushed into the clearing, shouting the magical word "Fight!"
with all the strength of his lungs. There was no immediate response,
save that the affrighted rocks rang with the frenzied cry, and the
motionless woods and the white moonlight seemed pervaded with myriads
of strange, uncanny voices. Then a cautious shutter of a glassless
window was opened, and through the narrow chink there fell a bar of
red light, on which was clearly defined an inquiring head, like an
inquisitively expressive silhouette. "They air a-fightin' yander ter
the store, whar they air a-playin' of Old Sledge," said the master of
the shanty, for the enlightenment of the curious within. And then he
closed the shutter, and like the law-abiding citizen that he was betook
himself to his broken rest. This was the only expression of interest
elicited.
A dreadful anxiety was astir in the store-keeper's thoughts. One
of the men would certainly be killed; but he cared not so much for
the shedding of blood in the abstract as that the deed should be
committed on his premises at the dead of night; and there might be such
a concatenation of circumstances, through the malefactor's willful
perversion of the facts, that suspicion would fall upon him. The
first circuit court ever held in the new county would be in session
to-morrow; and the terrors of the law, deadly to an unaccustomed mind,
were close upon him. Finding no help from without, he rushed back into
the store, determined to make one more appeal to the belligerents.
"Budd," he cried, "I'll holp ye ter hold Josiah, ef ye'll promise ye
won't tech him ter hurt. He air crazed, through a-losin' of his truck.
Say ye won't tech him ter hurt, an' I'll holp ye ter hold him."
Josiah succumbed to their united efforts, and presently made no further
show of resistance, but sank, still panting, into one of the chairs
beside the inverted basket, and gazed blankly, with the eyes of a
despairing, hunted creature, out at the sheen of the moonlight.
"I ain't a-wantin' ter hurt nobody," said Wray, in a surly tone. "I
never axed him ter play kyerds, nor ter bet, nor nuthin'. He l'arned me
hisself, an' ef I hed los' stiddier of him he would be a-thinkin' now
ez it's all right."
"I'm a-goin' ter stand up ter what I done said, though," Josiah
declared brokenly. "Ye needn't be afeard ez how I ain't a-goin' ter
make my words true. Ef ye comes hyar at noon ter-morrer, ye'll git that
thar deed, an' ye kin take the house an' land ez I an' my folks hev
hed nigh on ter a hundred year. I ain't a-goin' ter fail o' my word,
though."
He rose suddenly, and stepped out of the door. His footfalls sounded
with a sullen thud in the utter quietude of the place; a long shadow
thrown by the sinking moon dogged him noiselessly as he went, until he
plunged into the depths of the woods, and their gloom absorbed both him
and his silent pursuer.
A dank, sunless morning dawned upon the house in which Josiah Tait
and his fathers had lived for nearly a hundred years: it was a humble
log cabin nestled in the dense forest, about four miles from the
Settlement. Fifty cleared acres, in an irregular shape, lay behind
it; the cornstalks, sole remnant of the crop lost at Old Sledge, were
still standing, their sickly yellow tint blanched by contrast with the
dark brown of the tall weeds in a neighboring field, that had grown up
after the harvested wheat, and flourished in the summer sun, and died
under the first fall of the frost. A heavy moisture lay upon them at
noon, this dreary autumnal day; a wet cloud hung in the tree-tops;
here and there among its gray vapors, a scarlet bough flamed with
sharply accented intensity. There was no far-reaching perspective in
the long aisles of the woods; the all-pervading mist had enwrapped the
world, and here, close at hand, were bronze-green trees, and there
spectre-like outlines of boles and branches, dimly seen in the haze,
and beyond an opaque, colorless curtain. From the chimney of the house
the smoke rose slowly; the doors were closed, and not a creature was
visible save ten hogs prowling about in front of the dwelling among the
fallen acorns, pausing and looking up with that odd, porcine expression
of mingled impudence and malignity as Budd Wray appeared suddenly in
the mist and made his way to the cabin.
He knocked; there was a low-toned response. After hesitating a moment,
he lifted the latch and went in. He was evidently unexpected; the two
occupants of the room looked at him with startled eyes, in which,
however, the momentary surprise was presently merged in an expression
of bitter dislike. The elder, a faded, careworn woman of fifty, turned
back without a word to her employment of washing clothes. The younger,
a pretty girl of eighteen, looked hard at him with fast-filling blue
eyes, and rising from her low chair beside the fire said, in a voice
broken by grief and resentment, "Ef this hyar house air yourn, Budd
Wray, I wants ter git out 'n it."
"I hev come hyar ter tell ye a word," said Budd Wray, meeting her
tearful glance with a stern stolidity. He flung himself into a chair,
and fixing his moody eyes on the fire went on: "A word ez I hev been
a-aimin' an' a-contrivin' ter tell ye ever sence ye war married ter
Josiah Tait, an' afore that,--ever sence ye tuk back the word ez ye
hed gin me afore ye ever seen him, 'kase o' his hevin' a house, an'
critters, an' sech like. He hain't got none now,--none of 'em. I hev
been a-layin' off ter bring him ter this pass fur a long time, 'count
of the scandalous way ye done treated me a year ago las' June. He
hain't got no house, nor no critters, nor nuthin'. I done it, an' I
come hyar with the deed in my pocket ter tell ye what I done it fur."
Her tears flowed afresh, and she looked appealingly at him. He did not
remove his indignant eyes from the blaze, stealing timidly up the smoky
chimney. "I never hed nuthin' much," he continued, "an' I never said
I hed nuthin' much, like Josiah; but I thought ez how ye an' me might
make out toler'ble well, bein' ez we sot consider'ble store by each
other in them days, afore he ever tuk ter comin' a-huntin' yander ter
Scrub-Oak Ridge, whar ye war a-livin' then. I don't keer nuthin' 'bout
'n it now, 'ceptin' it riles me, an' I war bound ter spite ye fur it. I
don't keer nuthin' more 'bout _ye_ now than fur one o' them thar dead
leaves. I want ye ter know I jes' done it ter spite ye,--_ye_ is the
one. I hain't got no grudge agin Josiah ter talk about. He done like
any other man would."
The color flared into the drooping face, and there was a flash in the
weeping blue eyes.
"I s'pose I hed a right ter make a ch'ice," she said, angrily, stung by
these taunts.
"Jes' so," responded Wray, coolly; "ye hed a right ter make a ch'ice
a-twixt two men, but no gal hev got a right ter put a man on one eend
o' the beam, an' a lot o' senseless critters an' house an' land on the
t'other. Ye never keered nuthin' fur me nor Josiah nuther, ef the truth
war knowed; ye war all tuk up with the house an' land an' critters. An'
they hev done lef ye, what nare one o' the men would hev done."
The girl burst into convulsive sobs, but the sight of her distress
had no softening influence upon Wray. "I hev done it ter pay ye back
fur what ye hev done ter me, an' I reckon ye'll 'low now ez we air
toler'ble even. Ye tuk all I keered fur away from me, an' now I hev
tuk all ye keer fur away from ye. An' I'm a-goin' now yander ter
the Settlemint ter hev this hyar deed recorded on the book ter the
court-house, like Lawyer Green tole me ter do right straight. I laid
off, though, ter come hyar fust, an' tell ye what I hev been aimin' ter
be able ter tell ye fur a year an' better. An' now I'm a-goin' ter git
this hyar deed recorded."
He replaced the sheet of scrawled legal-cap in his pocket, and rose to
go; then turned, and, leaning heavily on the back of his chair, looked
at her with lowering eyes.
"Ye're a pore little critter," he said, with scathing contempt. "I
dunno what ails Josiah nor me nuther ter hev sot our hearts on sech a
little stalk o' cheat."