A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT
Early the next morning Colonel Guitar started in pursuit of the enemy.
Lawrence took the advance with a party of six men. As a matter of
course, Harry and Bruno made a part of this force.
"This seems like old times, Harry," said Lawrence, as they started off.
"It does that, Captain," replied Harry. "You, Dan, Bruno and myself make
four of the old gang. Now if only Guilford was with us--" He stopped and
sighed. His mind had gone back to the time when he and Guilford had so
nearly faced death in among the Boston mountains. "You have heard
nothing of him, have you, Captain?"
"Nothing. I did receive a communication about two months ago that I
thought might be from him; but I have received nothing since and I have
given up all hopes."
The trail left by the guerrillas was very plain. It followed the
Auxvasse for some two miles, and then turned off into the hills. The
country was very rough, the places for an ambuscade numerous, but with
Bruno scouting, Lawrence had no fears of being surprised.
Soon they came to a place where the road forked. On the road that led to
the left up the Auxvasse the trail was plainly marked; but the road that
led on into the more open country had little appearance of being
traveled; but it was rocky, and by being careful a large force could
have passed over it and left but few traces behind.
Harry dismounted and carefully examined the ground. As for Bruno, he
seemed to have no doubt; he was taking the blind trail.
"A blind," said Harry. "Not more than fifty took to the left, and they
left as broad a trail as possible. The main force passed up the other
road. If Guitar follows the broad trail it will lead him away among the
hills and then disappear, for the party will separate."
Just then the advance of Guitar's force appeared, led by a young
lieutenant.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked Lawrence. "Have you discovered the
enemy?"
"No, but Porter evidently divided his forces here, and we were
discussing which road the main body took."
The Lieutenant dismounted, and after looking over the ground, said,
"Why, it's as plain as the nose on a man's face; they went to the left."
"Harry and Bruno both think differently," answered Lawrence.
The Lieutenant sniffed. "Much they know about it," he exclaimed. "I have
trailed too many guerrillas to be mistaken."
Just then Colonel Guitar, at the head of his column, appeared. He was
appealed to, and after examining the road, decided to take the left hand
road, but told Lawrence he might keep on the other road with his scouts,
and see what he could discover. As a matter of precaution he increased
Lawrence's force to ten men.
The Lieutenant rode off highly elated over the fact that Colonel Guitar
agreed with his views.
"Let them go," sputtered Harry. "They will be disgusted before night."
And so it proved. The trail led Guitar over hills, through ravines and
rocky dells, through tangled forests, and twisted and turned, until it
disappeared entirely; and, much to his disgust, Guitar found himself
along in the afternoon within two miles from where he had started. The
wily guerrilla chieftain had fooled him completely. Guitar led his mad,
weary and swearing force back to the old camp grounds, and there awaited
the return of Lawrence and his scouting party.
Lawrence did not think for a moment but that Harry was right, and that
fact soon became evident. They were now in a more open country, and the
signs that a large body of troops had passed became numerous. Not only
this, but in the houses along the road they found a number of severely
wounded that the guerrillas had been forced to leave.
After some miles they came to a road that crossed the one they were on,
and which led to the west. Here the ground had been much trampled, and
that but a short time before.
Again Harry dismounted and examined the ground carefully. "We are close
onto them," he said. "I do not believe they have been gone half an
hour."
"Harry, you are a regular Kit Carson for trails," laughed Lawrence. "Are
you sure you are right?"
"Perfectly, and what is more, their force divided here, but the larger
force kept on. The explanation is plain. Porter operates to the north
and east, so he has kept on with the larger force; Poindexter and Cobb
have their chief haunts along the Chariton and Grand, so with their
forces they have gone to the west."
"We had better hurry back to Guitar and tell him this," exclaimed
Lawrence.
"No," snapped Harry. "I don't propose to be snubbed again. You only have
my word now. Let's keep on until you and everyone present have proof
that cannot be doubted."
"I believe you are right, Harry," said Lawrence, and he gave the command
to continue on.
They had proceeded a mile when Bruno came running back, showing by his
manner he had news to impart.
Halting his squad, Lawrence dismounted, and taking Harry, they carefully
made their way to the brow of a hill which lay in front. Cautiously
peering over, they saw about a quarter of a mile ahead a commodious
house, around which a number of horses were hitched.
It was evident that they had come on the rear guard of the retreating
guerrillas, and that they had halted to rest, and were being well
entertained, for a number of black women were passing back and forth
from the house to a rude outdoor kitchen, all bearing dishes, and it
looked very tempting to Lawrence and Harry.
"Feel like eating myself," whispered Harry. "I didn't know I was so
hungry."
"How many do you reckon there are?" asked Lawrence.
Harry carefully counted the horses and then said, "Not over fifteen or
twenty. I can count only fifteen horses, but there may be some out of
sight."
"Feel like appropriating that dinner myself," said Lawrence.
"The boys would never forgive us if we didn't," answered Harry.
Hurrying back they explained the situation, and by unanimous vote it was
decided to make a charge on that dinner without loss of time.
"Harry and I will ride a little ahead," said Lawrence. "Harry is dressed
in homespun and my uniform is so dusty they won't be able to distinguish
its color until we are close to them. Dan, when I give the signal, come
on in a rush."
So Lawrence find Harry rode ahead, the squad some fifteen or twenty
paces in the rear, leisurely following. Scarcely had they rode over the
brow of the hill when two sentinels they had not seen before suddenly
showed themselves on the road. The sentinels seemed much alarmed, and
drew up their carbines as if to shoot.
Harry waved his hat and signaled they were friends. Seeing the squad
coming so leisurely and the two in advance, the sentinels lowered their
guns and waited, thinking it must be some of their own men. But when
Lawrence and Harry were a few yards from them one of the sentinels
caught the color of Lawrence's uniform.
Giving a terrific whoop, he raised his gun and fired, the ball just
missing Lawrence's head. The other sentinel fired, but his shot went
wild. Both wheeled their horses and dashed back, yelling, "Yanks! Yanks!
Yanks!"
There was no need of Lawrence signaling Dan to come on, for the squad
were urging their horses to the limit.
The guerrillas at dinner heard the firing and came pouring out of the
house. Close on the heels of the flying sentinels thundered the
Federals. The guerrillas took one look, and with cries of terror sprang
for their horses, and cutting the halter straps were up and away. By
this time the balls were falling among them thick and fast, killing two,
and the horse of a third one fell and the rider was taken prisoner.
The fight was over and Lawrence rode up to the house, and was met on the
porch by a white haired, fine looking old gentleman.
"Sorry to trouble you," said Lawrence, urbanely, "but with your
permission I will have my men finish that dinner that your friends have
so ungraciously and suddenly declined."
"Step right in, suh, the dinner is waiting," the old gentleman replied
with a wan smile, "but my guests are not accustomed to invite
themselves."
"Sorry, sir, but when you consider the improvement in the character of
your guests, you should rejoice," rejoined Lawrence. "Entertaining such
guests as have run away is dangerous."
"I shall feed no Yankees," cried a shrill voice, and a young lady
flounced out of the door, her face red with anger.
Lawrence saw that she was good to look at, tall, willowy and fair of
face. Taking off his hat and bowing politely, he said, "My dear lady, I
humbly beg your pardon, but my men must certainly finish that dinner you
so kindly prepared for those who were so impolite and cowardly as to run
away and leave it. It would take more than Rebel bullets to make me
decline a meal prepared by your fair hands."
The compliment was lost. "Cowardly?" cried the girl. "Is it cowardly for
twenty to flee before a regiment of Yankee cut-throats?"
"There are only a dozen of us," said Lawrence, "and a dozen finer
gentlemen you never entertained, every one a prince and as brave as a
lion. If it were not so, twenty of your friends would not have fled from
them."
The young lady flashed a look of scorn at him and cried, "Yankee
cut-throats and robbers--gentlemen and brave! You amaze me." She
abruptly turned and went into the house, and much to Lawrence's regret
he did not see her again.
"You must excuse my daughter," said the old man, nervously.
"That's all right, so we get the dinner," answered Lawrence. "Don't you
see my men are getting impatient?"
"Come right in. I feed you, not because I want to, but because I must."
Thus speaking, he led them into the house, where they found a sumptuous
repast but partly eaten; and not a man in the squad but did full justice
to it.
Lawrence found the prisoner they had taken shaking with terror, for some
of the men had coolly informed him that after dinner he was to be
hanged.
Lawrence was about to reprimand the men for their cruel joke, when it
occurred to him he might use the fellow's fears to some advantage. So he
told him if he would tell all he knew, not only would his life be
spared, but that he would be paroled, but he would have to be careful
and tell nothing but the truth.
The prisoner eagerly embraced the opportunity, and confirmed what Harry
had said. He moreover stated that before Porter and Poindexter parted
they had agreed to gather up all the men they could, and join forces
again somewhere along the line of the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad.
"I guess that is straight enough for Guitar to believe, instead of that
upstart lieutenant," said Harry.
Back to find Guitar the scouts rode; but it was night when they found
him and then nearly where they had left him. All day his men had marched
beneath a broiling sun, and when they found out how they had been led
astray, against the protests of Harry, they wanted to lynch the smart
lieutenant; and it was a long time before the poor fellow heard the last
of it.
Colonel Guitar concluded to rest his men until morning, and then
continue the pursuit. "I will chase Porter clear to the Iowa line, if
necessary, to catch him," he said.
While it was arranged that Colonel Guitar should march straight for
Mexico, Lawrence, with a detail of ten men dressed as guerrillas, was to
follow directly on the trail of Porter, thus keeping track of his
movements. Lawrence chose ten of the Merrill Horse to go with him.
One of the men in looking over the squad and noticing that with
Lawrence, Dan, and Harry there were thirteen of them, demurred, saying
that another man should be added, as thirteen was an unlucky number. "No
thirteen for me," he said.
"Step aside," ordered Lawrence. "I want no thirteen cranks. I, for one,
am not troubled over the old superstition of thirteen. Who will
volunteer to take this fellow's place?"
A dozen were eager to go, and Lawrence chose a manly looking fellow.
"Our timid friend here counted wrong," he said. "He forgot Bruno, and he
is equal to a dozen men."
This raised a laugh, and the party started in the highest spirits. After
going a short distance, Lawrence halted and made his men a short speech.
"Boys," he said, "dressed as we are, it will be certain death if we are
captured. If circumstances arise where we must fight, fight to the
death--never surrender. We are strong enough to beat off any small
party, and large ones we must avoid. But remember, our object is to get
information, not to fight. To all appearances we must be simon-pure
guerrillas. If we meet with guerrillas, as no doubt we will, keep cool,
and let Harry or me do the talking."
"All right, Captain," they shouted, and they rode merrily forward,
careless of what dangers they might meet. So often had they faced death,
they considered him an old acquaintance.
They found little trouble in following the trail of Porter. Taken for
guerrillas, every Southern sympathizer was eager to give them all the
information possible.
For two days they traveled, frequently meeting with small parties of
guerrillas, and to these Lawrence always represented they belonged south
of the river, and had been obliged to cross to avoid a large party of
Federals, and that they had concluded to keep on and join Porter.
By questioning, Lawrence found all of these parties had orders to join
Porter at or near Paris. Some of these parties gave Lawrence a good deal
of trouble by wanting to join forces with him, but he put them off by
saying it would be safer to travel in small parties, as they would not
then be so liable to attract the attention of the Federals.
Porter in his flight had crossed the North Missouri Railroad near
Montgomery City, but in his haste did little damage.
It was after Lawrence had crossed this railroad that he had his first
serious trouble. Here he came onto a company of at least fifty
guerrillas under the command of Bill Duncan, a leader who often acted
with Porter, and as noted for cruelty as he. The company was hastening
to join Porter at Paris.
Lawrence thought it best to change his story. Duncan had roughly ordered
him to join his company. This Lawrence firmly refused, saying they
belonged to Poindexter's command; that after Poindexter and Porter had
parted, Poindexter had found it impossible for him to join Porter, as he
had promised, and that he had been sent post-haste by Poindexter to find
Porter and inform him of the fact.
"But now," said Lawrence, "I need go no farther, as you can carry this
information to Porter."
"Where are you going if I do this?" asked Duncan.
"Back to join Poindexter, as I promised," said Lawrence.
"I don't know but you are all right," said Duncan; "but I don't like the
looks of your men. What did you say your name was?"
"I haven't told you, but it is Jack Hilton. Porter knows me well. Give
him my respects. Be sure and tell him what I have told you, for it is
very important. Good-day, Captain. Come on, boys," and Lawrence turned
and rode back the way he had come.
Duncan watched them until they were out of sight; then, shaking his
head, said: "I almost wish I hadn't let them go, but I reckon they're
all right. That young chap in command told a mighty straight story."
About this time Lawrence was saying: "That was a mighty close shave,
Dan. That fellow had a big notion to make trouble."
Bruno, who had been told to keep out of sight, joined them after they
had gone some distance. He acted dejected and dispirited, and if he
could have talked would have asked the meaning of it all. Time and time
again he had given warning of the approach of guerrillas, only to have
his master meet them as friends. He had given notice of the approach of
Duncan's party, and to his surprise nothing had come of it. He was a
thoroughly disgusted dog, and walked along with drooping head and tail;
but it only took a word from Harry to set him all right again.
"We must turn north again at the first opportunity," said Lawrence.
"This will put us back several miles."
They had not gone far before they met a solitary guerrilla. He was one
of Duncan's party, and had gone out of his way to visit a friend. He was
halted, and explained who he was.
"Ah, yes," said Lawrence; "your company is just ahead. We left it only a
few moments ago."
"Whar be yo' goin'?" asked the fellow.
"Back to join Poindexter, where we belong. I was carrying a message to
Porter from Poindexter, but on meeting Duncan I gave it to him, so we
are on our way back."
The fellow had sharp eyes, and Lawrence noticed that he was scrutinizing
his party closely, and when he saw Harry, who had been a little in the
rear, and just now came up, he started perceptibly, but quickly
recovered himself, and exclaimed, "I must be goin'." Putting spurs to
his horse, he rode rapidly away.
Harry gazed on his retreating figure, his brow wrinkled in perplexity.
Suddenly he cried: "Captain, I know that fellow, and I believe he
recognized me. If he did, we are going to have trouble."
"Are you sure?" asked Lawrence, startled.
"Quite sure. I arrested him near Paris a couple of months ago, and he
gave his parole. I had hard work to keep Bruno from throttling him.
Where is Bruno?"
"There he comes now," said Lawrence, "and he seems to be greatly
excited."
Bruno was indeed greatly excited, and he ran around Harry, growling, and
then in the direction the fellow had taken, looking back to see if Harry
was following.
"Bruno knows him, too," said Harry. "He never forgets. If that fellow
saw Bruno, it is indeed all up. He will tell Duncan, and we will have a
fight on our hands as sure as fate."
"By hard riding we can reach Mexico and avoid the fight," said Lawrence;
"but I don't like the idea of running away."
"Nor I," said Harry. "Even if the fellow knew me, Duncan may not follow
us."
"What do you think, Dan?" asked Lawrence.
Dan took a chew of tobacco, as he always did when about to decide
anything weighty, and then slowly remarked: "Don't like to run until I
see something to run from."
"That's it," cried Lawrence. "It is doubtful if Duncan follows us at
all. If he does, it will be time enough to think of running."
It was therefore decided to take the first road they came to which led
in the direction they wished to go. They soon came to the road, but
before they turned into it, Lawrence took the precaution to make it
appear that they had ridden straight on.
"Reckon Bruno and I will hang near this corner for a while," said Harry.
"I want to make sure whether we are followed or not. I feel in my bones
Duncan is after us."
Harry had good reasons for feeling as he did, for the guerrilla whose
name was Josh Hicks, had not only recognized him, but he had also seen
Bruno, and he bore the dog an undying hatred, for it was he who had
captured him, and would have killed him had not Harry interfered.
No sooner was Hicks out of sight of the scouts than he put his horse to
the utmost speed. "I have an account to settle with that dawg and his
master," he muttered, "and it will be settled tonight or my name is not
Josh Hicks."
He overtook Duncan's command, his horse covered with foam.
"Hello, Josh, what's up?" asked some of the men, as he dashed up. "Yo'
un acts as if the Merrill Hoss was after yo'. What has skeered yo'?"
"Whar is Bill?" Hicks fairly shrieked.
"Up in front. What's the matter?" and the men began to look uneasy.
Seeing the excitement in the rear, Duncan came riding back. "What's the
trouble?" he asked, gruffly.
"Don't know," answered one of the men, "but Josh Hicks has jest come up,
his hoss covered with foam, and he seems mighty skeered about
something."
Just then Hicks caught sight of Duncan, and yelled: "Bill, did yo' un
meet a party of about a dozen men a few minutes ago?"
"Yes; what of it?"
"An' yo'un had them and let them go?" fairly screamed Hicks.
"Of course; they were Poindexter's men."
"Poindexter's men! Hell!" Hicks shouted. "They was Yanks in disguise,
an' one of them was that damned boy scout of the Merrill Hoss. I know
him, and I saw the dawg."
"Be you sure, Josh?" asked Duncan.
"Sure? Of course I'm sure. Don't I know the boy, and don't I know the
dawg? Can I forgit the brute that had his teeth in my throat? Oh, yo' un
be a nice one, yo' un be, Bill, to let them fellers slip through your
fingers!"
Duncan flushed with anger and chagrin. "Look here, Josh," he roared,
"none of your insinuations, or you settle with me. I never met that
feller, and if you had been with us, as you ought to have been, instead
of gallivanting around the country, you would have known them. Them
fellers told a straight story, they did; but they'll never fool Bill
Duncan but once. About face, boys."
In a moment more the guerrillas were thundering on the trail of the
scouts. They had little difficulty until they came to the road where
Lawrence had turned off. Here Duncan carefully examined the ground, and
with the almost unerring instinct of his class, decided rightly as to
the way the scouts had gone.
Harry had taken a position about half a mile from where the road turned,
and where he had a good view without being seen. He saw the guerrillas
stop and hesitate, and then take the right road.
"They are after us, sure," he muttered, and, spurring his horse, he did
not pull rein until he had overtaken the scouts.
"They are close after us!" he exclaimed, pulling up his panting horse.
"It will soon be dark; we can elude them," said Lawrence.
"Let's fight them," said Dan, taking out his plug of tobacco and holding
it until a decision was made.
"Yes, let's fight them," said the men. "This is the tamest scout we've
ever been on--hobnobbing with the villains instead of fighting them."
"All right," replied Lawrence. "Let's ride rapidly ahead until dark.
Dan, you and I must think up a bit of strategy in the meantime."
"All right," said Dan, biting off a big chew from the plug he was
holding, and restoring the rest to his pocket. If the decision had been
against a fight, Dan would have put the plug back without taking a chew.
When Dan put his tobacco back unbitten, it was always an infallible sign
that something had gone in a way that did not suit him.
That Lawrence and Dan had fixed up that bit of strategy was evident, for
just as darkness was closing in, Lawrence ordered the scouts to stop
long enough to gather a good feed of corn for their horses, from a
near-by field. Then they rode on and camped in a wood, some little
distance from the road.
"The guerrillas will not now attack us until some time in the night," he
said, "thinking to surprise us."
He gave orders for the horses to be tethered a little distance in the
rear of the camp, where they would be sheltered. "Hitch them so you can
loose them in a twinkling, if it becomes necessary," he ordered.
Then he told the men they might build a fire, make some coffee, and
roast some corn, if they wished.
"Had we not better dig a hole for the fire, and screen it with
blankets?" suggested one of the men. "A light might give us away."
"Just what I want it to do," answered Lawrence, to the astonishment of
all but Dan and Harry.
Lawrence then explained to his men his plan: "The guerrillas will attack
us some time during the night, thinking to surprise us. I want the
surprise the other way. Therefore I propose to camp as if we were
unconscious of danger. The fire is to be left, not too bright, but
smouldering enough to give a little light. Each man of you is to prepare
a dummy. A log with a blanket around it will do. These will be placed in
a row a short distance from the fire. In the dim light they will look
exactly like a row of sleeping men. Last of all, we will fix a dummy
sentinel, leaning against a tree as if asleep.
"We will all lie down a little to one side in the bush. Then, when the
guerrillas charge on the supposed sleeping camp, give it to them. If
things go wrong, each man make for his horse, and get away the best he
can. Make for Mexico."
These instructions were obeyed implicitly, and soon the camp was buried
in apparent slumber.
To make sure they were right, the guerrillas had inquired at the first
house they passed, and were told that a small party of men had passed
but a short time before.
"We are on the right track, boys," exclaimed Duncan, gleefully, "and if
they don't take the alarm and dodge us in the dark, they are ours. We
must not press them too closely. Let them go into camp, and we will get
them when they are asleep."
Just as darkness began to fall, Duncan became fearful that the scouts
would not halt, but keep on for Mexico, and he gave orders to gallop,
but concluded to stop at the first house and inquire. He did so, and an
old man came to the door, and in answer to his inquiry replied that a
party whom he supposed to be guerrillas passed just before dark.
"Confound them!" he exclaimed, "they stopped at my cornfield and
gathered a good feed for their horses, and never said even 'Thank you.'
They are camped in the woods about half a mile ahead, for I saw the
gleam of the campfire. I am going down in the morning, and see if I
can't collect for that corn."
"We will collect it for you," chuckled Duncan, "and while we are about
it we will collect enough to pay for a feed for our horses. There are
sixty or seventy of us. Them fellers are not our men; they are Yanks."
"Good land!" exclaimed the old fellow.
"Don't worry--we'll collect for that corn, all right," said Duncan.
The guerrillas waited until ten o'clock, then approached the wood as
near as they dared, and Duncan sent two of his men ahead to spy upon the
camp. They were gone so long that Duncan began to be impatient, but at
last they returned, and their report was all that could be wished.
"We almost crept on them before we discovered them," said one. "The
fools do not seem suspicious of any danger. They have but one man on
guard, and sure as shooting he is leaning against a tree, sound asleep.
It will be no trick to send them to the devil as they sleep."
"And to the devil we will send them," growled Duncan. "Understand, no
quarter."
"The dawg? Didn't you see the dawg?" asked Hicks, anxiously.
"That dawg seems to trouble you, Hicks," sneered one of the men.
"He would trouble yo' un if yo' un had had the experience I have,"
retorted Hicks. "I tell you I don't like it. Them Yanks seem too blame
careless. It ain't like them. An' that dawg--didn't he make no fuss when
yo' un crept up?"
"Not a bit. If thar was any dawg, he must have been asleep, too."
"I tell yo' un I don't like it. Thar is something wrong. That dawg----"
"Shut up," commanded Duncan. "Josh, if you are afraid of a dawg, stay
with the hosses. Some of the boys will have to stay, and there is not
one, unless it is you, but wants a hand in this job."
"Yes, stay, Josh, stay!" jeered the men. "Josh is getting skeery. He is
afraid of a dawg."
"Stay nothin'!" snorted Josh, mad as a hornet. "An' if any of yo' uns
insinuates I am afraid, yo' uns will have to settle with Josh Hicks, an'
that mighty quick."
"No quarrelling, boys," commanded Duncan. "Josh is all right. Don't want
to stay with the hosses, Josh?"
"Not by a thundering sight."
"All right, Josh, we will give you the first crack at that boy, the
owner of the dawg, to settle old scores."
They were to creep up on the scouts and kill them as they slept. If an
alarm was given, they were to rush on them and make quick work of it.
Slowly the guerrillas worked their way through the wood, as noiselessly
and stealthily as Indians. By the dim light of the campfire they saw
what they supposed were the sleeping forms of their enemies. The
sentinel stood leaning against a tree, his head on his breast,
apparently sound asleep.
The sentinel was right in front of Josh Hicks. He drew a huge knife, his
eyes gleaming with hate and cruelty. Nearer and nearer he crept, then
sprang forward and buried his knife in the bosom of the supposed man,
but instead of striking flesh and bone, he struck a log of wood, and so
fierce was the blow he could not withdraw the knife.
As he struck there was a hoarse growl, a huge form shot through the air,
and the teeth of Bruno were buried in his throat. He gave a
blood-curdling yell, which died away in a sickening gurgle.
The guerrillas, thinking themselves discovered, rushed upon the sleeping
forms. As they came into the light, the woods to the right and left
burst into flame. Men reeled and, clutching the air, fell. The wood
resounded with horrid curses, groans, and yells of terror.
Firing a random volley, those that lived turned and fled, pursued by the
scouts. The battle was soon over. A full third of the attacking force
lay on the ground, dead or grievously wounded. But of all the dead,
there was none so ghastly as Josh Hicks. He lay with his throat torn in
shreds, and on his face there was still a look of mortal terror.
The next morning, when the guerrillas came creeping back to bury their
dead and care for the wounded, a feeling of superstitious awe crept over
them when they saw the body of Josh Hicks.
"That dawg--that dawg!" they whispered. "Poor Josh! He must have had a
presentiment."
From that time on Bruno was to them an uncanny beast, in league with
evil spirits.