These symptoms of anxiety and alarm affected Edith's own spirits; they
did more,--they shook her faith in the justice of her kinsman's
conclusions. His arguments in relation to the road were, indeed,
unanswerable, and Telie had offered none to weaken them. Yet why should
she betray such distress, if they were upon the right one? and why, in
fact, should she not be supposed to know both the right and the wrong,
since she had, as she said, so frequently travelled both?
These questions Edith could not refrain asking of Roland, who professed
himself unable to answer them, unless by supposing the girl had become
confused, as he thought was not improbable, or had, in reality, been so
long absent from the forest as to have forgotten its paths altogether:
which was likely enough, as she seemed a very simple-minded,
inexperienced creature. "But why need we," he said, "trouble ourselves
to find reasons for the poor girl's opposition? Here are the tracks of
our friends, broader and deeper than ever: here they wind down into the
hollow; and there, you may see where they have floundered through that
vile pool, that is still turbid, where they crossed it. A horrible
quagmire! But courage, my fair cousin: it is only such difficulties as
these which the road can lead us into."
Such were the expressions with which the young soldier endeavoured to
reassure his kinswoman's courage, his own confidence remaining still
unmoved; although in secret he felt somewhat surprised at the coincidence
between the girl's recommendations of the by-road and the injunctions of
his morning dream. But while pondering over the wonder, he had arrived at
the quagmire alluded to, through which the difficulties of conducting his
cousin were sufficiently great to banish other matters for a moment from
his mind. Having crossed it at last in safety, he paused to give such
instructions or assistance as might be needed by his two followers; when
Edith, who had halted at his side, suddenly laid her hand on his arm, and
exclaimed, with a visage of terror,--"Hark, Roland! do you hear? What is
that?"
"Heard him, massa!" ejaculated Emperor from the middle of the bog, with
voice still more quavering than the maiden's, and lips rapidly changing
from Spanish-brown to clayey-yellow; "heard him, massa! Reckon it's an
Injun! lorra-massy!"
"Peace, fool," cried Forrester, bending his looks from the alarmed
countenance of his kinswoman to the quarter whence had proceeded the
sound which had so suddenly struck terror into her bosom.
"Hark, Roland! it rises again!" she exclaimed; and Roland now distinctly
heard a sound in the depth of the forest to the right hand, as of the
yell of a human being, but at a great distance off. At the place which
they had reached, the canes and undergrowth of other kinds had
disappeared, and a wide glade, stretching over hill and hollow, swept
away from both sides of the road further than the eye could see. The
trees, standing wider apart than usual, were, if possible, of a more
majestic stature; their wide and massive tops were so thickly interlaced,
that not a single sunbeam found its way among the gloomy arcades below. A
wilder, more solitary, and more awe-inspiring spot Roland had not before
seen; and it was peculiarly fitted to add double effect to sights and
sounds of a melancholy or fearful character. Accordingly, when the cry
was repeated, as it soon was, though at the same distance as before, it
came echoing among the hollow arches of the woods with a wild and almost
unearthly cadence, the utterance, as it-seemed, of mortal agony and
despair, that breathed a secret horror through the breasts of all.
"It is the Jibbenainosay!" muttered the shivering Telie: "these are the
woods he used to range in most; and they say he screams after his prey!
It is not too late:--let us go back!"
"An Injun, massa!" said Emperor, stuttering with fright, and yet
proceeding both to handle his arms and to give encouragement to his young
mistress, which his age and privileged character, as well as the urgency
of the occasion, entitled him to do: "don't be afraid, missie Edie;
nebber mind;--ole Emperor will fight and die for missie, old massa John's
daughter!"
"Hist!" said Roland, as another scream rose on the air, louder and more
thrilling than before.
"It is the cry of a human being!" said Edith,--"of a man in distress!"
"It is, indeed," replied the soldier,--"of a man in great peril, or
suffering. Remain here on the road; and if anything--Nay, if you will
follow me, it may be better; but let it be at a distance. If anything
happens to me, set spurs to your horses:--Telie here can at least lead
you back to the fort."
With these words, and without waiting to hear the remonstrances, or
remove the terrors of his companions, the young man turned his horse into
the wood, and guided by the cries, which were almost incessant, soon
found himself in the vicinity of the place from which they proceeded. It
was a thick grove of beeches of the colossal growth of the west, their
stems as tall and straight as the pines of the Alleghanies, and their
boughs, arched and pendulous like those of the elm, almost sweeping the
earth below, over which they cast shadows so dark that scarce anything
was visible beneath them, save their hoary and spectral trunks.
As Roland, followed by his little party, approached this spot, the cries
of the unknown, and as yet unseen, sufferer, fearful even at a distance,
grew into the wildest shrieks of fear, mingled with groans, howls, broken
prayers and execrations, and half-inarticulate expressions, now of
fondling entreaty, now of fierce and frantic command, that seemed
addressed to a second person hard by.
A thousand strange and appalling conceits had crept into Roland's mind,
when he first heard the cries. One while he almost fancied he had
stumbled upon a gang of savages, who were torturing a prisoner to death;
another moment, he thought the yells must proceed from some unlucky
hunter, perishing by inches in the grasp of a wild beast, perhaps a bear
or panther, with which animals it was easy to believe the forest might
abound. With such horrible fancies oppressing his mind, his surprise
may be imagined, when, having cocked his rifle and thrown open his
holsters, to be prepared for the worst, he rushed into the grove and
beheld a spectacle no more formidable than was presented by a single
individual,--a man in a shaggy blanket-coat,--sitting on horseback under
one of the most venerable of the beeches, and uttering those diabolical
outcries that had alarmed the party, for no imaginable purpose, as Roland
was at first inclined to suspect, unless for his own private diversion.
A second look, however, convinced the soldier that the wretched being had
sufficient cause for his clamour, being, in truth, in a situation almost
as dreadful as any Roland had imagined. His arms were pinioned behind his
back, and his neck secured in a halter (taken, as it appeared, from his
steed), by which he was fastened to a large bough immediately above his
head, with nothing betwixt him and death, save the horse on which he
sat,--a young and terrified beast, at whose slightest start or motion, he
must have swung off and perished, while he possessed no means of
restraining the animal whatever, except such as lay in strength of leg
and virtue of voice.
In this terrible situation, it was plain, he had remained for a
considerable period, his clothes and hair (for his hat had fallen to the
ground) being saturated with rain; while his face purple with blood, his
eyes swollen and protruding from their orbits with a most ghastly look of
agony and fear, showed how often the uneasiness of his horse, round whose
body his legs were wrapped with the convulsive energy of despair, had
brought him to the very verge of strangulation.
The yells of mortal terror, for such they had been, with which he had so
long filled the forest, were changed to shrieks of rapture, as soon as he
beheld help approach in the person of the astonished soldier. "Praised be
the Etarnal!" he roared; "cut me loose, strannger!--Praised be the
Etarnal, and this here dumb beast!--Cut me loose, strannger, for the
love of God!"
Such was Roland's intention; for which purpose he had already clapped his
hand to his sabre, to employ it in a service more humane than any it had
previously known; when, unfortunately, the voice of the fellow did what
his distorted countenance had failed to do, and revealed to Roland's
indignant eyes the author of all his present difficulties, the thief of
the pinfold, the robber of Brown Briareus,--in a word, the redoubtable
Captain Ralph Stackpole.
In a moment, Roland understood the mystery which he had been before too
excited to inquire into. He remembered the hints of Bruce, and he had
learned enough of border customs and principles to perceive that the
justice of the woods had at last overtaken the horse-thief. The pursuing
party had captured him,--taken him in the very manner, while still in
possession of the 'two-year-old pony,' and at once adjudged him to the
penalty prescribed by the border code,--tied his arms, noosed him with
the halter of the stolen horse, and left him to swing, as soon as the
animal should be tired of supporting him. There was a kind of dreadful
poetical justice in thus making the stolen horse the thief's executioner;
it gave the animal himself an opportunity to wreak vengeance for all
wrongs received, and at the same time allowed his captor the rare
privilege of galloping on his back into eternity.
Such was the mode of settling such offences against the peace and dignity
of the settlements; such was the way in which Stackpole had been reduced
to his unenviable situation; and, that all passers-by might take note
that the execution had not been done without authority, there was painted
upon the smooth white bark of the tree, in large black letters, traced by
a finger well charged with moistened gunpowder, the ominous name--JUDGE
LYNCH,--the Rhadamanthus of the forest, whose decisions are yet respected
in the land, and whose authority sometimes bids fair to supersede that of
all erring human tribunals.
Thus tied up, his rifle, knife, and ammunition laid under a tree hard by,
that he might have the satisfaction, if satisfaction it could be, of
knowing they were in safety, the executioners had left him to his fate,
and ridden away long since, to attend to other important affairs of the
colony.
The moment that Roland understood in whose service he was drawing his
sword, a change came over the spirit of his thoughts and feelings, and he
returned it very composedly to its sheath,--much to the satisfaction of
the negro, Emperor, who, recognising the unfortunate Ralph at the same
instant, cried aloud, "'Top massa! 't ar Captain Stackpole, what stole
Brown Briery! Reckon I'll touch the pony on the rib, hah! Hanging too
good for him, white niggah t'ief, hah!"
With that, the incensed negro made as if he would have driven the pony
from under the luckless Ralph; but was prevented by his master, who,
taking a second survey of the spectacle, motioned to the horror-struck
females to retire, and prepared himself to follow them.
"'Tarnal death to you, captain! you won't leave me?" cried Ralph, in
terror. "Honour bright! Help him that needs help--that's the rule for a
Christian!"
"Villain!" said Roland, sternly, "I have no help to give you. You are
strung up according to the laws of the settlements, with which I have no
desire to interfere. I am the last man you should ask for pity."
"I don't ax your pity, 'tarnal death to me,--I ax your _help_.'" roared
Ralph; "Cut me loose is the word, and then sw'ar at me atter! I stole
your hoss thar:--well, whar's the harm? Didn't he fling me, and kick me,
and bite me into the bargain, the cursed savage? and ar'n't you got him
ag'in as good as ever? And besides, didn't that etarnal old Bruce fob me
off with a beast good for nothing, and talk big to me besides? and warn't
that all fa'r provocation? An didn't you yourself sw'ar ag'in shaking
paws with me, and treat me as if I war no gentleman? 'Tarnal death to me,
cut me loose, or I'll haunt you, when I'm a ghost, I will, 'tarnal death
to me!"
"Cut him down, Roland, for Heaven's sake!" said Edith, whom the
surprise and terror of the spectacle at first rendered speechless: "you
surely,--no, Roland, you surely can't mean to leave him to perish?"
"Upon my soul," said the soldier, and we are sorry to record a speech
representing him in a light so unamiable, "I don't see what right I have
to release him; and I really have not the least inclination to do so. The
rascal is the cause of all our difficulties; and, if evil should happen
us, he will be the cause of that too. But for him, we should be now safe
with our party. And besides, as I said before, he is hanged according to
Kentucky law; a very good law, as far as it regards horse-thieves, for
whom hanging is too light a punishment."
"Nevertheless, release him,--save the poor wretch's life," reiterated
Edith, to whom Stackpole, perceiving in her his only friend, now
addressed the most piteous cries and supplications: "the law is
murderous, its makers and executioners barbarians. Save him, Roland, I
charge you, I entreat you!"
"He owes his life to your intercession," said the soldier; and drawing
his sabre again, but with no apparent good will, he divided the halter by
which Ralph was suspended, and the wretch was free.
"Cut the tug, the buffalo-tug!" shouted the culprit, thrusting his arms
as far from his back as he could, and displaying the thong of bison-skin,
which his struggles had almost buried in his flesh. A single touch of the
steel, rewarded by such a yell of transport as was never before heard
in those savage retreats, sufficed to sever the bond; and Stackpole,
leaping on the earth, began to testify his joy in modes as novel as they
were frantic. His first act was to fling his arms round the neck of his
steed, which he hugged and kissed with the most rapturous affection,
doubtless in requital of the docility it had shown when docility was so
necessary to its rider's life; his second, to leap half a dozen times
into the air, feeling his neck all the time, and uttering the most
singular and vociferous cries, as if to make double trial of the
condition of his windpipe; his third, to bawl aloud, directing the
important question to the soldier, "How many days has it been since they
hanged me? War it to-day, or yesterday, or the day before? or war it a
whole year ago? for may I be next hung to the horn of a buffalo, instead
of the limb of a beech tree, if I didn't feel as if I had been squeaking
thar ever since the beginning of creation! Cock-a-doodle-doo! him that
ar'nt born to be hanged, won't be hanged, no-how!" Then running to Edith,
who sat watching his proceedings with silent amazement, he flung himself
on his knees, seized the hem of her riding-habit, which he kissed with
the fervour of an adorer, exclaiming with a vehement sincerity, that made
the whole action still more strangely ludicrous, "Oh! you splendiferous
creatur'! you angeliferous anngel! here am I, Ralph Stackpole the
Screamer, that can whip all Kentucky, white, black, mixed, and Injun; and
I'm the man to go with you to the ends of the 'arth, to fight, die, work,
beg, and steal bosses for you! I am, and you may make a little dog of me;
you may, or a niggur, or a boss, or a door-post, or a back-log, or a
dinner,--'tarnal death to me, but you may _eat_ me! I'm the man to feel a
favour, partickelarly when it comes to helping me out of a halter; and so
jist say the word who I shall lick, to begin on; for I'm your slave jist
as much as that niggur, to go with you, as I said afore, to the ends of
the 'arth, and the length of Kentucky over?"
"Away with you, you scoundrel and jackanapes," said Roland, for to this
ardent expression of gratitude Edith was herself too much frightened to
reply.
"Strannger!" cried the offended horse-thief, "you cut the tug, and you
cut the halter; and so, though you did it only on hard axing, I'd take as
many hard words of you as you can pick out of a dictionary,--I will,
'tarnal death to me. But as for madam thar, the anngel, she saved my
life, and I go my death in her sarvice; and now's the time to show
sarvice, for thar's danger abroad in the forest."
"Danger!" echoed Roland, his anxiety banishing the disgust with which he
was so much inclined to regard the worthy horse-thief; "what makes you
say that?"
"Strannger," replied Ralph, with a lengthened visage and a gravity
somewhat surprising for him, "I seed the Jibbenainosay! 'tarnal death to
me, but I seed him as plain as ever I seed old Salt! I war a-hanging
thar, and squeaking and cussing, and talking soft nonsense to the pony,
to keep him out of his tantrums, when what should I see but a great
crittur come tramping through the forest, right off yander by the fallen
oak, with a big b'ar before him--"
"Pish!" said the soldier, "what has this to do with danger?"
"Beca'se and because," said Ralph, "when you see the Jibbenainosay,
thar's always abbregynes[4] in the cover. I never seed the crittur
before, but I reckon it war he, for thar's nothing like him in natur'.
And so I'm for cutting out of the forest jist on the track of a streak of
lightning,--now hy'yar, now thar, but on a full run without stopping. And
so, if anngeliferous madam is willing, thump me round the 'arth with a
crab-apple, if I don't holp her out of the bushes, and do all her
fighting into the bargain,--I will, 'tarnal death to me!"
[Footnote 4: _Abbregynes_--aborigines.]
"You may go about your business," said Roland, with as much sternness as
contempt. "We will have none of your base company."
"Whoop! whoo, whoo, whoo! don't rifle[5] me, for I'm danngerous!" yelled
the demibarbarian, springing on his stolen horse, and riding up to Edith.
"Say the word, marm," he cried; "for I'll fight for you, or run for you,
take scalp or cut stick, shake fist or show leg, anything in reason or
out of reason. Strannger thar's as brash[6] as a new hound in a b'ar
fight, or a young boss in a corn-field, and no safe friend in a forest.
Say the word, marm,--or if you think it ar'nt manners to speak to a
strannger, jist shake your little finger, and I'll follow like a dog, and
do you dog's sarvice. Or, if you don't like me, say the word, or shake
t'other finger, and 'tarnal death to me, but I'll be off like an elk of
the prairies!"
[Footnote 5: To _rifle_--to ruffle.]
[Footnote 6: _Brash_--rash, head-strong, over-valiant.]
"You may go," said Edith, not at all solicitous to retain a follower of
Mr. Stackpole's character and conversation: "we have no occasion for your
assistance."
"Farewell!" said Ralph; and turning, and giving his pony a thump with his
fist and a kick with each heel, and uttering a shrill whoop, he darted
away through the forest, and was soon out of sight.