The following day was one of unusual animation and bustle in the Indian
village, as the prisoners could distinguish even from their several
places of confinement, without, however, being sensible of the cause.
Prom sunrise until after mid-day, they heard, at intervals, volleys of
fire-arms shot off at the skirts of the town, which, being followed by
shrill halloos as from those who fired them, were immediately re-echoed
by all the throats in the village--men, women, children, and dogs uniting
in a clamour that was plainly the outpouring of savage exultation and
delight. It seemed as if parties of warriors, returning victorious from
the lands of the Long-knife, were, time after time, marching into and
through the village, proclaiming the success of their arms, and
exhibiting the trophies of their triumph. The hubbub increased, the
shouts became more frequent and multitudinous, and the village for a
second time seemed given up to the wildest and maddest revelry, to the
sway of unchained demons, or of men abandoned to all the horrible
impulses of lycanthropy.
During all this time, the young Virginian lay bound in a wigwam, guarded
by a brace of old warriors, who occasionally varied the tedium of
watching by stalking to the door, where, like yelping curs paying their
respects to passers-by, they up-lifted their voices and vented a yell or
two in testimony of their approbation of what was going on without. Now
and then, also, they even left the wigwam, but never for more than a few
moments at a time; when, having thus amused themselves, they would
return, squat themselves down by the prisoner's side, and proceed to
entertain him with sundry long-winded speeches in their own dialect, of
which, of course, he understood not a word. Wrapped in his own bitter
thoughts, baffled in his last hope, and now grown indifferent what might
befall him, he lay upon the earthen floor during the whole day, expecting
almost every moment to behold some of the shouting crew of the village
rush into the hovel and drag him away to the tortures which, at that
period, were so often the doom of the prisoner.
But the solitude of his prison-house was invaded only by his two old
jailers; and it was not until nightfall that he beheld a third human
countenance. At that period, Telie Doe stole trembling into the hut,
bringing him food, which she set before him, but with looks of deep grief
and deeper abasement, which he might have attributed to shame and remorse
for a part played in the scheme of captivity, had not all her actions
shown that, although acquainted with the meditated outrage, she was
sincerely desirous to avert it.
Her appearance awakened his dormant spirits, and recalled the memory of
his kinswoman, of whom he besought her to speak, though well aware she
could speak neither hope nor comfort. But scarce had Telie, more abashed
and more sorrowful at the question, opened her lips to reply, when one of
the old Indians interposed, with a frown of displeasure, and, taking her
by the arm, led her angrily to the door, where he waved her away, with
gestures that seemed to threaten a worse reception should she presume to
return.
Thus thwarted and driven back again upon his own reflections, Roland gave
himself up to despondency, awaiting with sullen indifference the fate
which he had no doubt was preparing for him. But he was doomed once more
to experience the agitations of hope, the tormentor not less than the
soother of existence.
Soon after nightfall, and when his mind was in a condition resembling the
hovel in which he lay--a cheerless ruin, lighted only by occasional
flickerings from a fire of spirit fast smouldering into ashes--he heard a
step enter the door, and, by and by, a jabbering debate commenced between
the newcomer and his guards, which resulted in the latter presently
leaving the cabin. The intruder then stepped up to the fire, which he
stirred into a flame; and seating himself full in its light, revealed,
somewhat to Roland's surprise, the form and visage of the renegade, Abel
Doe, whose acts on the hill-side had sufficiently impressed his
lineaments on the soldier's memory. He eyed the captive for awhile very
earnestly, but in deep silence, which Roland himself was the first to
break.
To the soldier, however, bent upon preserving the sullen equanimity which
was his best substitute for resignation, there was enough in the
appearance of this man to excite the fiercest emotions of indignation.
Others might have planned the villany which had brought ruin and misery
upon his head; but it was Doe who, for the bravo's price, and with the
bravo's baseness, had set the toils around him, and struck the blow.
It was, indeed, only through the agency of such an accomplice that
Braxley could have put his schemes into execution, or ventured even to
attempt them. The blood boiled in his veins as he surveyed the mercenary
and unprincipled hireling, and strove, though in vain, to rise upon his
fettered arms, to give energy to his words of denunciation.
"Villain!" he cried, "base, wretched, dastardly caitiff! have you come to
boast the fruits of your rascally crime?"
"Right, captain!" replied Doe, with a consenting nod of the head, "you
have nicked me on the right p'int: villain's the true word to begin on;
and, perhaps, 'twill be the one to end on: but that's as we shall
conclude about it, after we have talked the matter over."
"Begone, wretch,--trouble me not," said Roland, "I have nothing to say to
you, but to curse you."
"Well, I reckon that's natteral enough, too, that cussing of me," said
Doe, "seeing as how I've in a manner deserved it. But there's an end to
all things, even to cussing; and, may be, you'll jist take a jump the
other way, when the gall's over. A friend to-day, an enemy to-morrow, as
the saying is; and you may jist as well say it backwards; for, as things
turn up, I'm no sich blasted enemy, jist now, no-way no-how. I'm for
holding a peace talk, as the Injuns say, d--n 'em, burying the axe, and
taking a whiff or two at the kinnikinick of friendship. So cuss away, if
it will do you good; and I'll stand it. But as for being off, why I don't
mean it noway. I've got a bargain to strike with you, and it is jist a
matter to take the tiger-cat out of you,--it is, d--n it: and when you've
heard it, you'll be in no sich hurry to get rid of me. But, afore we
begin, I've jist got a matter to ax you: and that is,--how the h---- you
cleared the old Piankeshaw and his young uns?"
"If you have anything to propose to me," said Roland, smothering his
wrath as well as he could, though scarce hoping assistance or comfort of
any kind from the man who had done him so much injury, "propose it, and
be brief, and trouble me with no questions."
"Well now," said Doe, "a civil question might as well have a civil
answer! If you killed the old feller and the young-uns, you needn't be
ashamed of it; for cuss me, I think all the better of you for it; for
it's not every feller can kill three Injuns that has him in the tugs, by
no means no-how. But, I reckon, the ramscallions took to the liquor?
(Injuns will be Injuns, there's no two ways about it!) and you riz on
'em, and so paid 'em up scot and lot, according to their desarvings? You
couldn't have done a better thing to make me beholden: for, you see, I
had the giving of you up to 'em, and I felt bad,--I did, d--n me, for I
knew the butchers would burn you, if they got you to the Wabash--I did,
captain, and I had bad thoughts about it. But it was a cussed mad
notion of you, following us, it was, there's no denying! Howsomever,
I won't talk of that. I jist want to ax you where you picked up that
Injun-looking feller that was lugging off the gal, and what his natur'?
The Injuns say, he's a conjuror: now I never heerd of conjurors among
the whites, like as among the Injuns, afore I cut loose from 'em, and I'm
cur'ous on the subject!--I jist ax you a civil question, and I don't mean
no harm in it. There's nobody can make the feller out; and, as for Ralph
Stackpole, blast him, he says he never seed the crittur afore in his
life!"
"If you would have me answer _your_ question," said Roland, in whom Doe's
discourse was beginning to stir up many a former feeling, "you must first
answer mine. This person you speak of,--what is to be his fate?"
"Why, burning, I reckon: but that's according as he pleases the old
Vulture: for, if he can find out what never an Injun Medicine has been
able to do, it may be, the old chief will feed him up and make him his
conjuror. They say, he's conjuring with the crittur now."
"And Stackpole, what will they do with him?"
"Burn him, sartin! They're jist waiting till the warriors come in from
the Licking, where, you must know, they have taken a hundred scalps, or
so, at one grab: and then the feller will roast beyond all mention."
"And I, too," said the Virginian, with such calmness us he could, "I,
too, am to meet the same fate?"
"Most ondoubtedly," said Doe, with an ominous nod of assent. "There's
them among us that speak well of you, as having heart enough to be made
an Injun: but there's them that have sworn you shall burn; and burn you
_must!_--That is, onless--" But he was interrupted by Roland, exclaiming
hurriedly,--
"There is but one more to speak of--my cousin? my poor friendless
cousin?"
"There," said Doe, "you needn't be afeard of burning, by no means
whatsomever. We didn't catch the gal to make a roast of. She is safe
enough; there's one that will take care of her."
"And that one is the villain Braxley! Oh, knave that you are, could you
have the heart,--you who have a daughter of your own, could you have
committed _her_ into the arms of such a villain?"
"No, by G----, I couldn't!" said Doe, with great earnestness: "but
another man's daughter is quite another thing. Howsomever, you needn't
take on for nothing; for he means to marry her and take her safe back to
Virginny: and, you see, I bargained with him agin all rascality; for I
had a gal of my own, and I couldn't think of his playing foul with the
poor creatur'. No, we had an understanding about all that, when we was
waiting for you on old Salt. All Dick wants is jist a wife that will help
him to them lands of the old major. And that, you see, is jist the whole
reason of our making the grab on you."
"You confess it, then!" cried Roland, too much excited by the bitterest
of passions to be surprised at the singular communicativeness of his
visitor: "you sold yourself to the villain for gold! for gold you
hesitated not to sacrifice the happiness of one victim of his passions,
the life of another! Oh, basest of all that bear the name of man, how
could you do this villany?"
"Because," replied Doe, with as much apparent sincerity as emphasis,
"because I am a d--d rascal: there's no sort of doubt about it; and we
won't be tender the way we talk of it. I was an honest man once, captain,
but I am a rascal now; warp and woof, skin-deep and heart-deep, ay, to
the bones and marrow,--I am all the way a rascal! But don't look as if
you was astonished already. I come to make a clean breast of all sorts of
matters, jist, captain, for a little bit of your advantage and my own:
and there's things coming that will make you look a leetle of a sight
wilder! And, first and foremost, to begin. Have you any particular
longing to be out of this here Injun town, and well shut of the d--d fire
torture?"
"Have I any desire to be free! Mad question!"
"Well, captain, I'm jist the man, and the only one, that can help you;
for them that would, can't, and them that can, won't. And, secondly and
lastly, captain, as the parsons say in the settlements, have you any
hankering to be the master of the old major, your uncle's lands and
houses?"
"If you come to mock and torture me,"--said Roland, but was interrupted
by the renegade.
"It is jist to save you from the torture," said he, "that I'm now
speaking; for, cuss me, the more I think of it, the more I can't stand it
no-how. I'm a rascal, captain, but I'm no tiger-cat, especially to them
that hasn't misused me, and there's the grit of a man about you that
strikes my feelings exactly. But, you see, captain, there's a bargain
first to be struck between us, afore I comes up to the rack--but I'll
make tarms easy."
"Make them what you will, and But, alas! where shall I find means to
repay you? I who am robbed of everything?"
"Didn't I say I could help you to the major's lands and houses? and a'n't
they a fortun' for an emperor?"
"You! _you_ help me? help me to _them_?"
"Captain," said the renegade, with sundry emphatic nods of the head, "I'm
a sight more of a rascal than you ever dreamed on! and this snapping of
you up by Injun deviltry, that you think so hard of, is but a small part
of my misdoings: I've been slaving agin you this sixteen years, more of
less, _slaving_ (that's the word, for I made a niggur of myself) to rob
you of these here very lands that I'm now thinking of helping you to! You
don't believe me, captain! Well, did you ever hear of a certain honest
feller of old Augusta, called John Atkinson?"
"Hah!" cried the soldier, looking with new eyes upon the renegade; "you
are then the fellow upon whose perjured testimony Braxley relied to
sustain his frauds?"
"The identical same man, John Atkinson, or Jack, as they used to call me;
but now Abel Doe, for convenience sake," said the refugee, with great
composure; "and so, now, you can see into the whole matter. It was _me_
that had the keeping of the major's daughter that you knows of. Well,
I was an honest feller in them days, I was, captain, by G----!" repeated
the fellow with something that sounded like remorseful utterance, "and
jist as contented in my cabin on the mountain as the old major himself in
his big house at Felhallow. But Dick Braxley came, d--n him, and there
was an end of all honest doings: for Dick was high with the old major,
and the major was agin his brothers; and says Dick, says he, 'Put but
this little gal,'--meaning the major's daughter,--'out of the way and I'm
jist as good as the major's heir; and I'll make your fortun'"--
"Ay! and it was _he_ then, the villain himself," cried Roland, "who
devised this horrible iniquity, which, by innuendo at least, he charged
upon my father!--You are a rascal indeed! And you murdered the poor
child?"
"Murdered! No, rat it, there was no murdering in the case: it was jist
hiding in a hole, as you may call it. We burned down the wigwam, and made
on as if the gal was burned in it; and then I stumped off to the Injun
border, among them that didn't know me, and according to Dick's advice,
helped myself to another name, and jist passed off the gal for my own
daughter."
"Your own daughter!" cried Roland, starting half up, but being unable to
rise on account of his bonds: "the story then is true! and Telie Doe is
my uncle's child, the lost heiress?"
"Well, supposing she is?" said Atkinson, "I reckon you'd not be exactly
the man to help her to her rights?"
"Ay, by Heaven, but I would though!" said Roland, "if rights they be. If
my uncle, upon knowledge that she was still alive, thought fit to alter
his intentions with regard to Edith and myself, he would have found none
more ready to acknowledge the poor girl's claims than ourselves, none
more ready to befriend and assist her."
"Well! there's all the difference between being an honest feller and a
rascal!" muttered Atkinson, casting his eyes upon the fire, which he fell
to studying for a moment with great earnestness. Then starting up
hastily, and turning to the prisoner he exclaimed--
"There's not a better gal in the etarnal world! You don't know it,
captain; but that Telie, that poor critter that's afeard of her own
shadow, did run all risks, and play all manner of fool's tricks, to save
you from this identical same captivation; and the night you was sleeping
at Bruce's fort, and we waiting for you at the ford, she cried, and
begged, and prayed that I would do you no more mischief; and, cuss her,
she threatened to tell you and Bruce, there, the whole affair of the
ambush; till I scared her with my tomahawk, like a d----d rascal as I am
(but there's nothing will fetch her round but fear of murdering); and so
swore her to keep silence. And then, captain, her running away after you
in the woods,--why, it was jist to circumvent us,--to lead you to the
t'other old road, and so save you; it was, captain, and she owned it: and
if you'd a' taken to her leading, as she axed you, she'd 'a' got you out
of the snarl altogether. Howsomever, captain," he continued, after making
those admissions, which solved all the enigmas of Telie's conduct, "I
won't lie in this matter no-how. The gal is no gal of the major's, but
my own flesh and blood: the major's little critter sickened on the
border, and died off in less than a year; and so there was all our
rascally burning and lying for nothing; for, if we had waited a while,
the poor thing would have died of her own accord. Well, captain, I'm
making a long story about nothing: but the short of it is, I didn't make
a bit of a fortun' at all, but fell into troubles; and the end was, I
turned Injun, jist as you see me; and a feller there, Tom Bruce, took to
my little gal out of charity; and so she was bred up a beggar's brat,
with everybody a jeering of her, because of her d----d rascally father.
And, you see, this made a wolf of me; for I couldn't bring her among the
Injuns, to marry her to a cussed niggur of a savage,--no, captain, I
couldn't; for she's my own natteral flesh and blood, and, captain, I love
her! And so I goes back to Virginny, to see what Braxley could do for
her; and there, d----n him, he puts me up to a new rascality; which was
nothing less than setting up my gal for the major's daughter, and making
her a great heiress, and marrying of her. Howsomever, this wouldn't do,
this marrying; for, first, Dick Braxley was a bigger rascal than myself,
and it was agin my conscience to give him the gal, who was a good gal,
deserving of an honest husband; and, next the feller was mad after young
madam, and there was no telling how soon he might p'ison my gal, to
marry the other. And so we couldn't fix the thing then to our liking, no
way; but by and by we did. For when the major died, he sends for me in a
way I told him of; and here's jist the whole of our rascality. We was, in
the first place, jist to kill you off--"
"To kill me, villain!" cried Roland, whose interest was already excited
to the highest pitch by the renegade's story.
"Not exactly with our own hands; for I bargained agin that: but it was
agreed you should be put out of the way of ever returning agin to
Virginny. Well, captain, Dick was then to marry the young lady; and then
jist step into the major's estate by virtue of the major's will,--the
second one you must know, which Dick took good care to hide away,
pretending to suppose the major had destroyed it."
"And that will," exclaimed Roland, "the villain, the unparalleled villain
is still possessed of!"
"No, rat him,--the devil has turned upon him at last, and it is in better
hands!" said Atkinson; and without more ado, he drew the instrument from
his bosom and unfolded it before Roland's astonished eyes. "Read it,"
said Doe, with exulting voice: "I can make nothing of the cursed
pot-hooks myself, having never been able to stand the flogging of a
school-house; but I know the fixings of it, the whole estate devised
equally to you and the young woman, to be divided according as you may
agree of yourselves, a monstrous silly way, that; but there's no helping
it."
And holding it before the Virginian, in the light of the fire, the latter
satisfied himself at a glance that Atkinson had truly reported its
contents. It was written with his uncle's own hand, briefly but clearly;
and while manifesting throughout, the greatest affection on the part of
the testator toward his orphan niece, it contained no expressions
indicative either of ill-will to his nephew or disapprobation of the part
the young man had chosen to play in the great drama of revolution. And
this was the more remarkable as it was dated at a period soon after
Roland had so wilfully, or patriotically, fled to fight the battles of
his country, and when it might have been supposed the stern old
loyalist's anger was at its height. A better and more grateful proof that
the young man had neither lost his regard nor confidence, was shown in a
final codicil, dated in the year of Roland's majority, in which he was
associated with Braxley as executor, the latter worthy having been
made to figure in that capacity alone, in the body of the will.
"This is indeed a discovery!" cried Roland, with the agitation of joy and
hope. "Cut my bonds, deliver me, with my cousin and companions,--and the
best farm in the manor shall reward you:--nay, you shall fix your own
terms for your daughter and yourself."
"Exactly," said Atkinson, who, although the prisoner was carefully bound,
exhibited a jealous disinclination to let the will come near his hands,
and now restored it carefully to his own bosom; "we must talk over that
matter of tarms, jist to avoid mistakes. And to begin, captain, I will
jist observe, as before, that if you don't take my offer, and close with
me hard and fast, you will roast at an Injun stake jist as sartainly as
you are now snugging by an Injun fire; you will, d----n me, there's no
two ways about it!"
"The terms, the terms?" cried Roland, eagerly: "name them; I will not
dispute them."
But the renegade was in no such hurry.
"You see," said he, "I'm a d----d rascal, as I said; and in this matter,
I am just as much a rascal as before, for I'm playing foul with Braxley,
having bargained to work out the whole thing in his sarvice. Howsomever,
there is a kind of fair play in cheating _him_, seeing it was him that
made a rascal of me. And moresomever, I have my doubts of him, and
there's no way I can hold him up to a bargain. And, lastly, captain, I
don't see how he can be of any sarvice to my gal! He can't marry her if
he would; and if he could, he shouldn't have her; and as for leaving her
to his tender mercies, I would jist as soon think of hunting her up
quarters in a bear's den. And as for keeping her among these d----d
brutes, the Injuns--for brutes they are captain, there's no denying it--"
"Why need you speak of it more? I will find her a home and protection,--a
home and protection for both of you."
"As for _me_, captain, thanking' you for the favour, you won't do me no
sich thing, seeing as how I don't look for it. There's two or three small
matters agin me in the Settlements, which it is no notion of mine to
bring up for reckoning. The gal's the crittur to be protected; and I'll
take my pay out chiefly in the good you do to her; and for the small
matters, not meaning no offence, I can trust best to her; for she's my
daughter, and she won't cheat me. Now, captain, a better gal than
Telie--her true name's Matilda, but she never heard anything of it but
Telie--a better gal was never seen in the woods, for all she's young and
timorsome; and it's jist my notion and my desire, that, whatever may
become of me, nothing but good shall become of her. And now, captain,
here's my tarms; I'll cut you loose from Injun tugs and Injun fires,
carry you safe to the Settlements, and give you this here precious
sheepskin,--which is jist as much as saying I'll make you the richest
man, in farms, flocks, and niggurs, in all Virginny; and you shall marry
the gal, and make a lady of her!"
"Marry her!" cried Roland, in amazement and consternation,--"marry her!"
"Ay, captain! that's the word," said Atkinson: "I have an idea you'll
make her a good husband, for you're an honest feller, and a brave
one--I'll say that for you; and she'll make you a good wife, or I'll give
you my scalp on it. I reckon the crittur has a liking for you already;
for I never did see any body so beg, and plead, and take on for mortal
feller. Marry her's the tarms; and, I reckon, you'll allow, they're easy
ones?"
"My good friend, you are surely jesting!" said the Virginian. "I will do
for her whatever you can wish, or demand. The best farm in the whole
estate shall be hers, and the protection of my kinswoman will be
cheerfully and gratefully granted."
"As for jesting, captain," said the renegade, with a lowering brow,
"there's not one particle of it about me, from top to toe. I offer you a
bargain that has all the good on your side; and I reckoned you'd 'a'
jumped at it with a whole hoss-load of thank'ees. I offer you a gal
that's the best gal in the whole eternal wood; and I reckon you may count
all that this here sheepskin will bring you as jist so much dowry of my
giving. A'n't that making tarms easy?--for, as for the small matters for
myself, them is things I will come upon the gal for, without troubling
you for 'em. Now you see, captain, I'll 'jist argue the matter. You may
reckon it strange I should make you such an offer; and ondoubtedly, so it
is. But here's the case. First, captain, I'm agin burning you; it makes.
me oneasy, to think of it--for you ha'n't done me no harm, and you're a
young feller of the rale Virginny grit, jist after my own heart, and I
takes to you. And, next, captain, there's the gal--a good gal, captain,
that's desarving of all I can do for her, and a heap more. But, captain,
what's to become of the crittur when I'am done for? You see, some of
these cussed Injuns--or it may be the white men, for they're all agin
me--will take the scalp off me some day, sooner or later, there's no two
ways about it. Well, then, what's to become of the poor gal, that ha'n't
no friend in the big world to care for her? Now, you see, I'm thinking of
the gal, and I'm making the bargain for her; and I made it in my own mind
jist the minute I seed you were a captive among us, and laid my hand on
this here will. Said I to myself, 'I'll save the youngster, and I'll
marry my gal to him, and there's jist two good things I'll do for the
pair of 'em!' And so, captain, there's exactly the end of it. If you'll
take the gal, you shall have her, and you'll make three different
critturs greatly beholden to you:--first, the gal, who's a good gal, and
a comely gal, and will love and honor you jist as hard as the best madam
in the land; next, myself, that am her father, and longs to give her to
an honest feller, that won't misuse her, and, last, your own partickelar
self;--for the taking of her is exactly the only way you have of gitting
hack the old major's lands, and what I hold to be jist as agreeable,
dragging clear of a hot Injun fire that will roast you to cinders if you
remain in this d--d village two days longer!"
"My friend," cried Roland, driven to desperation, for he perceived
Atkinson was making his extraordinary proposal in perfectly good faith
and simplicity, as a regular matter of matter of business, "you know not
what you ask. Free me and my kinswoman--"
"As for young madam there," interrupted the renegade, "don't be at all
oneasy. She's in good hands, I tell you; and Braxley'll fetch her
straight off to Virginny as soon as he has brought her to reason."
"And your terms," said Roland, smothering his fury as he could, "imply an
understanding that my cousin is to be surrendered to him?"
"Ondoubtedly," replied Doe; "there's no two ways about it. I work on my
own hook, in the matter of the fortun'--'cause how, Dick's not to be
trusted where the play's all in his own hands; but as for cheating him
out of the gal, there's no manner of good can come of it, and it's clear
agin my own interest. No, captain, here's the case; you takes my gal
Telie, and Braxley takes the t'other; and so it's all settled fair
between you."
"Hark you, rascal!" cried Roland, giving way to his feelings; "if you
would deserve a reward, you must win it, not by saving _me_, but my
cousin. My own life I would buy at the price of half the lands which that
will makes me master of--for the rescue of Edith from the vile Braxley I
would give _all_. Save her--save her from Braxley--and then ask me what
you will."
"Well," said Atkinson, "and you'll marry my gal?"
"Death and furies! are you besotted? I will enrich her--ay, with the best
of my estate--with all--she shall have it all."
"And you won't have her, then?" cried the renegade, starting up in anger:
"you don't think her good enough for you, because you're of a great
quality stock, and she's come of nothing but me, John Atkinson, a plain
back-woods feller? Or mayhap," he added, more temperately, "you're agin
taking her because of my being sich a d--d notorious rascal? Well, now, I
reckon that's a thing nobody will know of in Virginny, unless you should
tell it yourself. You can jist call her Telie Jones, or Telie Small, or
any nickname of that natur', and nobody'll be the wiser; and I shall jist
say nothing about it myself--I won't, captain, d--n me; for it's the
gal's good I'm hunting after, and none of my own."
"You are mad, I tell you," cried the soldier. "Fix your own terms for
her: I will execute any instrument, I will give you any bond--"
"None of your cussed bonds for me," said Doe, with great contempt; "I
knows the worth of 'em, and I'm jist lawyer enough to see how you could
git out of 'em, by swearing they were written under compulsion, or
whatsomever you call it. And, besides, who's to stop your cheating the
gal that has nobody to take care of her, when you gits her in Virginny,
where I darn't follow her? No, captain, there's jist but the one way to
make all safe and fair; and that's by marrying her. So marry her,
captain; and jist to be short, captain, you must marry her or burn,
there's no two ways about it. I make you the last offer; there's no time
for another; for to-morrow you must be help'd off, or it's too late for
you. Come, captain, jist say the word--marry the gal, and I'll save you."
"You are mad, I tell you again. Marry her I neither can nor will. But--"
"There's no occasion for more," interrupted Doe, starting angrily up.
"You've jist said the word, and that's enough. And now, captain, when you
come to the stake, don't say _I_ brought you there: no, d--n it,
don't--for I've done jist all I could do to help you to life and
fortun'--I have, d--n me, you can't deny it."
And with these words, uttered with sullen accents and looks, the renegade
stole from the hut, disregarding all Roland's entreaties to him to
return, and all the offers of wealth with which the latter, in a frenzy
of despair, sought to awaken his eupidity and compassion. The door-mats
had scarce closed upon his retreating figure before they were parted to
give entrance to the two old Indians, who immediately assumed their
positions at his side, preserving them with vigilant fidelity throughout
the remainder of the night.