CAPTAIN ALLEN CLAIMS THE REWARD LEECH OFFERED
Leech had a bad half-hour; but when he left his office his spirits were
rising again. He had weathered many a storm before. It would be hard
if he could not weather this little trouble. He was satisfied that his
wife would keep her word not to divulge his secret to anyone, and if
he could but get her away everything would go all right. He would be
free to marry a handsome and wealthy woman; and this alliance would
give him complete control of the State. With this, what might he not
have—wealth unlimited, position, unmeasured power—there was no end to
it! It all stretched before him a shining track with, at the end—it
appeared before him for only one brief moment—a dazzling point: at the
far end of that long track a great white house, with the broad avenues
reaching in every direction. Why not? Why should he not be——? The
vision made his head swim. He wiped his hand across his mouth as though
he tasted something actually material.
He returned to earth, and, locking his office-door, strolled up the
hill. The village was all quiet except for the sentries pacing their
beats.
As Leech walked up under the clear stars, the thought came into his
mind once more; and this time he tried to follow it step by step.
Yes, it was possible. He was rich, powerful, fortunate. He would be
Governor. What might he not be! His enemies had fallen before him—all
but one, and that one could not escape. He would find him, alive or
dead; and then—wealth—power—revenge! He raised his clenched hand
and brought it down in the intensity of his feeling.
“Yes, by G—d! I’ll have him, alive or dead!” he exclaimed. He was
almost at his gate. Two steps brought him to it; and before him in the
darkness, waiting for him, tall and silent, stood the man he wanted.
“I hear you are hunting for me,” said Steve Allen, quietly. “I am here.”
The blood rushed back and forth in Leech’s veins as cold as ice, as hot
as fire. What would he not have given for his guards! Why had he been
such a fool as to dismiss them! He thought of his pistol; but he knew
Steve was quicker with a pistol than he. So he resorted to craft. He
would keep him until the guards arrived.
“How are you, Captain? Won’t you walk in?” he said, with a show of
ease, though his voice quavered. He thought about offering his hand,
but feared to do so. If he could only detain him!
“Thank you. I will.” Steve indicated with a wave of his hand that
Leech should precede him; and Leech walked before him, knowing that he
was his prisoner. Still he hoped help would come. They went into his
library. Steve took a seat.
“What did you want with me?”
“I was only fooling,” said Leech, feebly. Steve looked so placid that
he began to feel reassured. “You know there’s a warrant out for your
arrest; and the best thing for you to do is to surrender quietly. You
can clear yourself easy enough, and it’s just a form. You come with me,
and I’ll do all I can for you.” His voice was cajoling, and he looked
at Steve almost tenderly. “You know I was only fooling about what I
said.”
Steve looked at him with cold contempt. “You’ll find it ill fooling
with a desperate man. Let’s drop our masks. You have made a mistake to
push us so far. You have offered a reward for me, alive or dead. I am
here to claim it. You are my prisoner, and you know it.” He gave Leech
a glance that made him shiver.”Sit there, and write what I tell you.”
He indicated Leech’s desk. Leech, with blanched face, took his seat. As
he did so he glanced furtively at the clock. Secret as the glance was,
Steve saw it.
“Be quick about it, and don’t waste a word. I have no time to spare.
Remember, it was alive or dead you wanted me.” He dictated the words of
a safe-conduct:
“To the Commandant of United States troops in District No. —. Pass
the bearer and companions, and render them all the aid possible. For
reasons of State,” added Steve, with a twinkle in his eye, as he
glanced over it. “Now sign it.”
Leech signed slowly. He was listening with all his ears.
“Now another.” Steve dictated the following to the commanding officer
in the village: “I have been called away unexpectedly on business
connected with the man I want, Captain Allen. Take no steps in my
absence, and credit no reports not signed by me personally.” Now
sign it, and add this postscript: “I have decided to pursue a more
conciliatory policy toward the prisoners. Please make them entirely
comfortable, and give their friends access to them.” Sign that, and
mark it to be delivered in the morning, and leave it on your table.
“Leave it on my table?” Leech’s face blanched.
“Yes, you are going with me.”
Just then steps were heard on the walk outside, and the murmur of low
voices reached them. A gleam of hope stole into Leech’s face. Steve
Allen heard too, and he listened intently. As he turned his eyes again
on Leech, a new light appeared in the latter’s eyes; fear had suddenly
changed to joy.
“Aha! Captain Allen, our positions are reversed again. Let us drop our
masks indeed! You are my prisoner now. Those are my sentries. The house
is surrounded by soldiers. Ah! ha-ha-ha!” he laughed, leaning back in
his chair, eying Steve, and rubbing his hands in glee.
Steve shifted his seat a little, displaying the butt of a revolver.
“You fool!” he said, with that coolness which was Leech’s envy and
despair, and which made him in a way admire Steve more than any other
man he knew. “Suppose they are your men? You are going with me all
the same. If they come in here, you are still my prisoner; and one
word—one look from you—one bare suspicion on their part that I am not
going on your invitation; that it is not voluntary on your part—and
you are a dead man.” He loosened his pistol, and, while he listened,
sat looking at Leech with a cool assurance on his face that made Leech
gasp.
There was a sharp knock at the outer door. As Steve listened his
expression changed to one of amusement.
“Call to them to come in, and remember you were never in greater peril
than at this moment.”
Leech called, and there was the slow tramp of several men in the
passageway.
“Call them in here.”
Leech was becoming puzzled. But he could not keep down the hope that
was dawning on his countenance. He called, and they approached the
door. Steve did not even turn. He was keeping his eyes on a big gilt
mirror that hung in front of him and showed both the door and Leech.
The men reached the door and knocked again; then opened it, and three
men in United States uniform stood in the doorway. Steve’s hand left
his pistol, and the eyes in the mirror were filled with a more amused
smile as he glanced from them to Leech. A radiant joy sprang into
Leech’s face. He gave a dive behind his desk, shouting, “Seize that
man. Shoot him if he lifts his hand!”
Nothing of the kind, however, occurred. At a sign from Steve, the three
men came inside the room and closed the door behind them.
“Come out, Leech. These are my men, not yours,” said Steve. “You are
too big a coward to fool with; come out. Pull him out, one of you.” And
the man nearest Leech caught him by the arm and dragged him up on his
feet, gasping and white with returning terror as he saw the trick that
had been played him.
“Did you think I was such a fool as that?” Steve asked, contemptuously.
“Come, we have no more time to lose. Fetch him along, men.” He turned
to the door, and the next moment Leech was seized and hustled out at
a trot. The sight of a pistol in the hand of one of the men kept him
quiet. At the door a gag was put into his mouth, a cap was pulled down
over his eyes, and his arms were pinioned to his side. He was conscious
that the lamps were extinguished, and the key turned in the lock behind
him. Then he was borne to his gate, set on a horse, and carried off
through the darkness at a gallop. He gave a groan of terror. “Remember
Andy Stamper,” said one of the men, and Leech remembered well enough.
How far they went the prisoner had no means of knowing. After awhile
the gag was taken from his mouth; but he was told that the least outcry
would mean his death. They travelled at a brisk gait all night, and he
knew that he had several men in his escort; but though they at times
talked together in undertones, they did not address him and were deaf
to his speeches. Much of the journey was through woods, and several
times they forded rivers, and toward the end they must have left all
beaten tracks, for they rode through bushes so dense as almost to sweep
him from his horse; then they descended a steep hill, forded a stream,
and, a little later, Leech was lifted from his horse, borne, half-dead
with fright and fatigue, into a house, down a flight of steps, and laid
on a bed. One of the men who brought him in lighted a candle and gave
him a drink of whiskey, which revived him; and Leech found that he was
in a large room with stone walls, furnished simply, like a bedroom, and
ventilated from the top.
The man who was left with him was a stranger to him, and, as he turned
to go, Leech asked him to tell him where he was and what they were
going to do with him. He felt that it was his last chance.
“Maybe keep you as a hostage, maybe not.”
“As a hostage?”
“That’s the Commander’s idea. As a hostage for those you’ve arrested,
and I reckon what the Capt’n says will prevail. Good-by.” He shut the
door and bolted it behind him, leaving Leech alone.
This, then, explained what Steve Allen meant by what he said. He was a
prisoner, to be held as a hostage for those he had arrested. There was
a bed in the room; and Leech was so fatigued that he fell asleep, and
slept until he was awakened by the guard bringing him something to eat.
This man, like the others, was masked, and he refused to talk at all.
“What will they do with me?” asked Leech.
“Depends on what orders you’ve given about those you’ve arrested,” said
the man in a voice which Leech knew was feigned. He was going. Leech
determined to make one more effort.
“Wait, please. I’m rich. No, I’m not rich; but I have friends who are
who would pay well if you—if I were to get back to them.” His voice
had grown confidential.
“Shouldn’t be surprised.” The tone was rather dry; but that might have
been due to the fact that the voice was disguised. And as he appeared
acquiescent, Leech took courage. He moved a little nearer to him. “I
could make it worth your while to let me go,” he said, insinuatingly.
The man waited. Leech’s hopes revived. McRaffle had sold out; why not
buy this man? He was plainer. “Why not let me out?” The guard was
considering. “Help me, and help me get hold of—just help me, and I
will see that you and your friends receive full pardon, and will make
you rich.”
The guard pulled off his mask. It was Steve Allen himself.
“Good-night;” and he was gone, leaving Leech with his heart in his
mouth.
There was great excitement in the County over the disappearance of
Major Leech; but it was suppressed excitement, and, curious as it may
seem, his absence had the immediate effect of quieting the negroes.
They were struck with awe at either the boldness or the mystery of his
abduction, and almost within a night after he disappeared they had
subsided. One who had seen them parading and yelling with defiance and
delight the day that Leech led his handcuffed prisoners to the station
to ship them off to prison, would not have recognized the awe-struck
and civil people who now went back and forth so quietly to their work.
It seemed almost a miracle.
All sorts of tales were published in the public press as to this latest
outrage, and there was much denunciation; but no action was taken
immediately, and for a time, at least, the old County was once more
under the rule of its own citizens.
Owing partly to the letter Leech had written just before his
disappearance, and partly to the request of the Captain of the
company, who was heartily tired of his work, an order had been issued
transferring that officer’s company to another post; and he had left
with his company before the fact of Leech’s abduction became known. An
appeal was made to the Governor to declare the County under martial
law; but though he talked about it loudly enough, and made many
threats, he did not carry out his threats immediately. Perhaps the
Governor was not too anxious to go into an investigation that might,
instead of proving Leech to have been murdered, result in bringing back
into the field his most formidable rival.
It, however, was deemed by the higher authorities that something must
be done to vindicate the majesty of the law, and it was decided to
send other troops to the County. The selection of troops, however,
had been proved by the history of the County to be a matter of more
than ordinary delicacy. Several different bodies had been sent there
without accomplishing what had been hoped for.
It happened that Thurston’s command had just returned from the
Northwest and was awaiting some disposal. It was remembered that
this same troop had once quieted things in the disturbed region,
and had given, at least, more of a show of peace than any of their
numerous successors had done. This was one view of the case. There was
perhaps another view which may have influenced some. So Thurston was
unexpectedly dispatched with his command to the place from which he
had been ordered several years before. His appearance was a complete
surprise to the old residents, and the effect was immediately apparent.
It was not known what it signified. Some thought it meant the
immediate placing of the County under martial law, and the arrest of
the remaining citizens. Others held differently. Whatever it meant,
the excitement quieted down. The whites had had experience with this
company, and felt that they could be relied on. The blacks recognized
that a stronger power had come among them, and that it meant order and
obedience.
When Captain Thurston dismounted from his horse on the very ground on
which he had dismounted a number of years before, he had a curious
feeling of mingled pleasure and dissatisfaction. There, amid the big
trees, stood the old court-house, massive and imposing as it had looked
that day when he had guyed old Mr. Dockett about its architecture, and
told him that it was finer than anything in Athens; there, were the
same great trees; there the same rows of old offices, only a little
more dilapidated; there the same moody faces of the few whites, and
the same crowd of idling negroes lagging about his troop. He turned
and looked at the clerk’s office, almost expecting to see the same
rosy, girlish face looking out at him defiantly. Instead, a brawny
negro in black clothes, with a beaver hat cocked on the side of his
head, was lounging in the door smoking a cigar. It gave the captain an
unpleasant shock; and as he made arrangements about placing his camp he
wondered where old Mr. Dockett was now, and how his pretty daughter was
coming on. He had not heard from her since his last campaign. She was
probably married. The idea gave him an unpleasant sensation, he always
hated to hear of any pretty girl marrying. It seemed to make the world
lonelier. The negro in the door sauntered across toward the camp and
spoke to some of the soldiers familiarly, his silk hat on the side of
his head, his cigar rolling in his mouth.
“What company is this, men?”
The words reached the Captain. One of the men who was working told him
shortly.
“Who’s your Captain?”
“There he is.”
Thurston had grown stouter, and the negro did not recognize him.
“That little man? What’s his name?”
Thurston caught the speech and, before the soldier could answer, bawled
at the negro, “Come here and take hold of these things, and don’t stand
there interfering with the men.” The darky looked at him in blank
amazement.
“Who? Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Not me; you don’t know who I am!” He reared himself back and stuck his
thumbs in his armholes.
“No, and I don’t care a hang either,” said the little Captain.
“Sergeant, make that man take hold of those things and put them in
place.”
“I’m Senator Ash,” declared the man, surlily, swelling with importance,
and turning to walk away.
“Halt, there,” said the soldier, coldly.
Nicholas Ash turned at the tone, to find the sergeant quietly taking
his pistol from the holster.
“You come back here.”
“I’m Senator Ash.”
“Well, I don’t give a —— who you are; if you are Captain Jack
himself, you catch hold there, as the Captain says, or ’twill be the
worse for you. He won’t stand no foolishness. I’ve seen him string a
man up for less than you have said already.” And the weather-beaten
soldier looked so coldly on the senator that the latter deemed it best
to go through the form of obeying, and, swallowing his rage as best he
might, took hold and did his first manual labor in some years.
This was the first official act of Captain Thurston on his return, and,
though it was an accident, it, perhaps, saved him trouble in the future.
The Captain availed himself of the earliest opportunity to hunt up his
old friends. When he had pitched his camp and got settled, he sauntered
up to Mr. Dockett’s. As he walked along he noted the changes that had
occurred since he went away. The yards were more uncared for, the
houses more dilapidated, and the fences more broken. As he entered the
Dockett yard, he was pleased to observe that it was kept in its old
trim order. The breath of flowers that he remembered so well, and had
always associated with the place, met him as of old. When he opened
the gate he saw that there were several persons on the porch; but as
he approached they all rose and disappeared in the house. There were
one or two white dresses in the party. He had not long to wait. At his
knock Mrs. Dockett herself appeared, and he thought he could see the
firm set of her mouth and the glint in her eyes as she bore down upon
him. She looked much older. She did not appear surprised to see him.
She invited him in, but did not say anything about her daughter; and at
length the Captain had to ask after her. She was very well, she thanked
him. She had some young friends with her.
In this condition of affairs, Captain Thurston had recourse to
stratagem. He adroitly turned the conversation to Rupert Gray, and
began to tell of his success in the West, and of the incident when
he had showed such bravery while acting as a scout with him. He was
conscious at once of the change in the good lady’s manner, and of the
increased interest she betrayed; so he dilated on it at some length.
No one ever had a warmer historian. He made Rupert out a hero, and was
congratulating himself secretly on his success, when, with a sniff,
Mrs. Dockett declared that she was not surprised at Rupert’s acting
so. It was only what she should have expected from one of their young
men, and she was not surprised that the Yankees should have been
obliged to call on him to help them. But she was surprised that Captain
Thurston should have exposed a boy like Rupert, hardly more than a
child, to such danger. Why had he not gone himself to rescue his men?
Thurston could not help laughing at the turn she gave his story. This
shot appeared, however, to have somewhat cleared the atmosphere. Mrs.
Dockett began to unbend. She “would see her daughter; perhaps, she
would come in; she would like to hear of Rupert.” Just then, whether
for this reason or one in which the visitor had a more personal
concern, the door opened and Miss Dockett walked in unbidden. She, too,
had grown older since Thurston went away; but the change was not to her
disadvantage. The plump little figure had developed; the round face
had in it more force; and she had become, if not a very pretty woman,
at least a very comely one. She greeted the Captain distantly, but not
coldly. She began by making war at once, and that the little officer
was used to. It was only indifference that he could not stand.
“Well, and so you have come back, and I suppose you will expect us all
to get down on our knees to you?” she said, her chin a little elevated.
“No, not you. I’ll make a treaty with you, if you won’t insist on my
getting down on mine to you,” he laughed.
“To me? I supposed Miss Welch was the only one you did that to.”
This was encouraging, and the little Captain was instantly at his ease.
“Miss Welch? Who is Miss Welch?”
“Come, now, don’t be trying that with me; I know all about it, so you
might as well tell me. Perhaps, you’ll need my assistance. All the
gentlemen seem to be victims to her charms. Captain Allen thinks there
is no one like her. Some men, when they are discarded, take to drink,
but here they seem to take to Miss Welch.”
“Well, some men need one kind of stimulant, and some another; now, I
like mine with a proper mixture of spirit and sweetening.” The little
Captain’s eyes were helping him all they could.
“I don’t know what you mean, I’m sure.” She looked down coyly.
“Say, a sort of peach and honey?”
“You men have such vulgar similes.” The little nose was turning up.
“Well, I’ll be literary, and say ‘a snow and rose-bloom maiden,’” said
the Captain, who had been reading Carlyle. “I always think of you in
connection with roses and snow.”
The little nose came down, and the Captain’s peace was made. He began
to tell of Indian fights and long marches over parched or snow-swept
plains, where men and horses dropped. Miss Elizabeth, like Desdemona,
to hear did seriously incline, and the Captain was invited to supper.