SPROWL TOES THE MARK.
In less than half an hour the tall, rocky crest of "Bald Hill" reared
its gray head before the men, and Poynter gave vent to a sigh of relief
as he saw that the tiresome ride was nearly at an end. Having traveled
the distance four times, twice upon foot, and once on a dead run, he
was greatly exhausted, and so sleepy that he could scarcely keep his
eyes open.
The outlaws were upon the alert, as the quick, sharp challenge
testified when the outer lines were reached. Dismounting with a
half-groan, Poynter relieved Fyffe of his "backload," and after
securely binding the man, dropped him upon the ground, asking the
sentry to keep an eye upon him. Then Poynter threw himself beneath a
tree, and almost ere his limbs were still, a fast-increasing rumbling,
as of very distant thunder, told how sound was his slumber.
The sun was an hour above the horizon when Poynter again opened his
eyes, although he declared he hadn't five winks of sleep. But after a
cool bath at the creek close at hand, he felt greatly refreshed, and
joined White Crees, who was sitting near one of the fires, smoking a
pipe.
"Up for all day, Poynter?"
"Well, I hardly know, to tell the truth," laughed Clay. "I can tell you
better after I have some grub."
"There's part of a cold turkey, or here's venison; take your choice."
"Hot meat for me, even if I do have to turn cook to get it," said
Poynter, cutting several generous slices from the prime saddle that
hung suspended from a tree near at hand. "But, hello, I forgot! What
has been done with my prisoner that I brought in last night, or,
rather, this morning?"
"I put him in a safe place," returned the outlaw. "The poor devil was
nearly dead this morning. You put him with his head down hill, and I
really believe that another hour would have finished him."
"'Twouldn't be a very great pity," muttered Poynter, his mouth full of
meat, "after I have got out of him what I want to know. And that makes
me think--where's Jack?"
"Off on a hunt, I believe; a gang of turkeys passed down the creek this
morning, and he's after them. But why?"
"Nothing; only from a hint that he dropped last night about one
Meagreson--"
"What! _Meagreson_, did you say?" excitedly exclaimed the outlaw,
bending forward, clutching Poynter with his long, bony fingers by the
arm, until the young man winced with pain.
"Thunder! yes, but I ain't made of wood, nor steel either. Do you want
to take off my arm?"
"Pardon, Poynter; but that name made me forget myself. Where did _you_
hear of _him_?"
"From Sprowl; he told Polk Redlaw a long yarn yesterday that I
overheard, and enough in it to show me that my secret foe was this
Meagreson, or John Dement, as he called himself here."
"Tell me all, just as he said it. I have good reasons for wanting to
hear it," added the outlaw, impressively.
Poynter gave a hasty outline, and to his great surprise Crees bowed his
head to the earth, his strong form working and writhing as if in mortal
agony. But when he would have stopped, a hoarsely-whispered "_Go on_"
from the old man was his only answer.
"And now you know as much as I do," added Clay, arising. "But come,
show me where you put Sprowl, and I will see if he can tell me any
thing more."
Crees arose without a word, and passed a short distance up the
hillside, pressing through some bushes until he stood at the foot of
a good-sized tree, in a tiny glade. To the trunk of this, and in an
upright position, was bound the form of the wretched Sprowl.
Poynter started back in half-alarm at the fearful change a few hours
had made in the man's appearance. Dreadfully haggard and sickly
looking, with his eyes protruding, his tongue lolling from his parched
jaws, the drops of cold sweat rolling over his face, Sprowl looked as
if about to give up the ghost in earnest.
"My God! he's dying," cried Poynter, as he sprung forward and severed
the cords that bound the poor devil, laying him down upon the ground.
"Give me your flask; mine's empty," as he turned to Crees, who silently
handed it to him, while his eyes were fixed intently upon the wretch's
face.
A few swallows were poured down Sprowl's throat, and thus bathing his
face and neck with the pungent liquor, Poynter soon uttered a glad cry.
In truth, the patient appeared to be recovering, and in a few minutes
the light of reason once more shone in his eyes.
"I know that man," slowly ejaculated Crees, not once removing his gaze,
that appeared to attract the other's attention much the same as the
fascination exercised by the rattlesnake.
"My God! who are you?" almost yelled the wretch, as he suddenly sat up,
staring at Crees, wildly.
"Who should know better than you, Wesley Sprowl?" sternly said the
outlaw.
"I know you now. You are--"
"Hold!" commanded Crees, "that name is dead now. If you as much as
whisper it before I tell you, by all that's holy I'll treat you as I
would a snake! Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," faltered Sprowl, once more sinking back.
"Here," interrupted Poynter, checking this by-play, that not a little
excited his curiosity. "Here, Sprowl, take another sup of brandy. I
want you to answer me some questions, and you'll need your strength
before we're through."
"Yes--yes--the brandy!" eagerly muttered the prisoner, clutching at the
bottle, and not drawing breath until it was emptied. "There! now I can
talk; only I am hungry," he added, wistfully.
"Well, I will get you something, for I am going to treat you a deuced
sight better than you deserve, after your lies about me."
"They _were_ lies, all of them; but I will confess--yes, I will
confess!"
"Just stick to that, old fellow, and my word for it, you'll never have
cause to repent doing so," cheerily replied Poynter. "Now, Mr. Crees,
if you'll just stay here to keep our friend company, like, I'll go get
something for him to eat."
"Gladly; for I, too, have something to ask Mr. Sprowl," returned the
outlaw. "And, if you will, please give a whistle when you come back;
won't you?"
"Certainly, if you wish it."
"I do. But don't be offended," he added, appealingly. "I will explain
it all to you soon. And any thing else that may appear strange, that
you wish to know. Will that do?"
"Finely," cordially replied Poynter, pressing his strange friend's
hand, and then dashing down the hillside to the encampment-fires.
He cut some venison steaks, and soon had them broiling merrily, after
which he prepared hot water for coffee, and stirred up a "hoe-cake,"
standing it upon a strip of elm-bark to bake before the glowing embers.
Evidently he meant to keep his word to Sprowl, of treating that worthy
better than he deserved.
When his cookery was completed, Poynter gave the desired signal, and
when he reached the tree found that the outlaw was sitting in the same
spot, while Sprowl had bowed his head between his hands, evidently
deeply moved by some emotion, either of fear or remorse. But the young
man quelled the curiosity he felt, for he knew that Crees' word might
be trusted, and that ere long all would be explained.
"Well, old fellow, here you are," cheerily cried Poynter, as he placed
the food and drink before Sprowl, with not a trace of rancor in his
tones. "And do you see how fast you can demolish them, while I do a
little talking. But mind you, don't answer before you've weighed well
what you say, as you may have to swear to it. Do you hear?"
"Yes, sir, I do hear, and so help me God, I'll tell the honest truth if
it hangs me!" solemnly exclaimed the prisoner. "You treat me and talk
to me like a gentleman, while I have treated you and yours worse than a
dog. I shall say nothing but the truth, and if it must be, will swear
to it before any court."
"Now I begin to know you again," cried Clay, gladly; "and I tell you
that, guilty as you have been, unless you have helped commit one deed--"
"Your father, you mean?" interrupted Sprowl.
"Yes."
"As God hears me, I never raised a hand or a finger against his life.
I falsely swore against his honor, I do not deny, but of any thing
further, I am innocent."
"Well, go on and eat. I will tell you my terms, although I frankly
tell you that were it not for your wife and helpless family, I would
_demand_, not _request_. Now, however, we will let that pass.
"First, I wish you to tell me the plot against my father; who concocted
it, and who were the prominent actors in it. Also their reasons for so
doing, so far as you are aware of them.
"Then what you know of myself; who it was that has hunted me from
'pillar to post,' to use your own language? Also what you know about
one Meagreson, _alias_ John Dement, his character, crimes, and, in
short, every thing.
"I warn you, however, that I am not to be deceived; that I know far
more than you have any idea of, so that any attempt of that kind will
only injure yourself. Do you fully comprehend me?" queried Poynter.
Sprowl answered by a double nod; his mouth being crammed so full of the
juicy deer-steak, that speech was impossible.
"Very well. Now, I will tell you further. If you make a clean breast of
it, however guilty you may have been, with that one exception, I will
let you go free, and in addition give you such a start that, if you
endeavor to do so, you can live an honest, comfortable life.
"I will pay for your farm, will build you a house and stock them
both, so that you can have no further excuse for going to the bad.
But mark me--this is not on _your_ account; it is for your patient,
long-suffering wife, and the deeds will be given in her name. Now, what
do you say to the bargain?"
"Well, sir, what _can_ I say," muttered Sprowl, brokenly, "but that
while I have acted like a dog, you treat me as a white man? Perhaps
'twould be a better job if you put me beyond the way of doing any more
harm; I _do_ think so. I have always been a cursed, cowardly fool, and
if at times I would try--and God knows that I _have_ tried for Mary's
sake and the children's--to break off, here would come a temptation,
and down I'd go, worse than ever," gloomily replied the prisoner.
"Well," heartily responded Poynter, "better times are coming now, and
if you will only help yourself, others will lend a hand. Cheer up, old
fellow, and hold your head up like an honest man; there's a heap of
good left in you yet, or you'd never talk as you do now."
"If I ever _do_ get on my feet again, it is to you and _him_ that I
must give thanks, after God," solemnly uttered Sprowl. "But where shall
I begin?"
"Tell me first about my father; why and how it was that you acted
against him as you did."
And then Wesley Sprowl repeated the tale he had briefly outlined to
Polk Redlaw, giving every detail in full; but enough has been said to
enlighten the reader. It was a terrible tale of revenge and injustice,
in which an innocent man was made the victim of a villain's plottings,
aided by such unscrupulous coadjutors as Sprowl and Jonathan Green.
As the sad incidents of his parent's sorrow and ruin were detailed,
Clay Poynter (as we must still call him) bowed his head and wept bitter
tears of grief and anguish. Had he glanced toward his companion, he
would have seen that "White Crees," the outlaw leader, had bowed his
stalwart form, and it shook as if with mortal agony.
"About your being driven from Arkansas," said Sprowl, "I know nothing
save that this same man followed you in his hatred for your father;
that he had sworn you, too, should die a felon's death. But you fled
from him, and it was years before he found you here.
"He saw me, also, and knowing that I was poor, tempted me to aid him,
as I had done once before. For weeks before he made his appearance
openly, he was undermining your reputation, by covert hints and
innuendoes, that only too easily found holding-ground in the troubled
state of the country; and this was increased by your reticence
regarding your affairs and previous life.
"I helped him in this, as did Green, Wigan, Redlaw, Dalton and Gibson.
Then you were arrested. Sam Gibson and Frank Dalton were bribed to
conceal the dies and counterfeit coin in your house, then to swear to
the finding it.
"Jonathan Green was bought over, as I was, to swear as we did. For fear
one charge should fail, he arranged that of the murder of John Dement,
by which name he had made the acquaintance of Neil McGuire, as they
both were fellow Masons.
"He made himself popular in the neighborhood by his friendly manner and
the freedom with which he spent his money. He wished the excitement to
be great and deadly when you were charged with his death.
"He gave me the diamond cluster-pin that was so well known and told
me what to swear. I was poor; he threatened to denounce me as one of
the gang unless I performed his bidding, and I consented. It was hard,
though, although you may not believe me.
"You had acted the generous friend to me and mine; had furnished food,
clothing and medicine, when I was sick and unable to work; all this you
did, and yet I would have sworn away your life!" and for a few moments
he remained silent.
"Had it not been for the firmness of Neil McGuire our plans would have
been fully carried out, and that next morning's sun would have shone
upon your corpse, as we fully expected. But then you escaped; how, I
never learned.
"Meagreson was in Leavenworth awaiting the message that I had promised
to send or bring him, of your death, but instead it was that you were
once more a free man. Still he thought and hoped that you would be
taken, and had set the police of the city on the alert for you in case
you should go there; but it was useless.
"He was fully disguised, as he had been while here, for as he is now
over fifty years of age, his hair is naturally almost snow-white. But
he wore his years well, and he was not suspected for other than he
seemed.
"You know how I attempted to fire your house--it was that mongrel cur,
Polk Redlaw, that tempted me; and that I was captured in the endeavor,
I now sincerely thank God! It is one crime the less upon my soul; and
He knows that there are enough there already," concluded Sprowl, in
a broken tone, as he bowed his head, while the hot, scalding tears
trickled freely adown his wrinkled cheeks.
There was no affectation about this, as his hearers were fully
convinced. He was really moved at the kind and honorable manner in
which he had been treated by those whom he had wronged so deeply and
terribly.
They knew that it was sincere repentance, and that from then,
henceforth, if his life was spared, he would be a different man. The
truer depths of his nature were touched; the crust of wickedness was
broken, never again to heal over.
"And this Meagreson--do you know nothing of his future plans?" at
length asked Poynter, looking up.
"Unless he should hear from me, he was to meet me at the 'Twin Points'
Friday night."
"Then you think he will come?"
"I have no doubt of it," was the assured reply. "He will be too anxious
to learn the latest news not to come."
"Good! he will probably meet visitors he does not expect," cried Crees.
"That he will! Unless he fails, we will have him at our own terms, and
then--"
"And then!" echoed the outlaw.