3 eS inet Rees Sy

 
   

    
  
     
    
    
   
    
   
      
   
      

Wey these works (Beadle's Dime Books ane qgoyp 1 ar 1% & problem, quite as much for thé moralist gra tive | dey
of national character as for the critic. It is@usnbreftction that, being’ so: the y are, Without exce i ‘ ;
can, judge, unex tionably moral. * * They de nothevon Ohaeurety pander to vice, Of exéite.
American Revier uly, 1864, : ; r

Dito, SOrd
1. The PASS,

€ : ; é ae
January Bulletin of Beadle’s Dime Publications

Ps aS DIME KICTION.—The present is the sécond number of a new series of

 

   

; A
T1O Vee meh Beadle and Company will issue hereafter, in answer to the demands of th
public, H ving at command some of the best writers of fiction in thi country many
SXOLUStvVenY for them—the publishers will be enabled to produce ssuecossion of sas
eomMmand the applause of the intelligent reading public. This NEW DIME SERIES y
imstyle an@ size with the current number. ¥: ch: issue will embrace: a complete- story (
large nutaber off red in manuscript for their acceptance. The purpose. is not only to-su : |
tation already won for their books, but to add to it—fo render BEADLE’S DrIMEe PUBLIC : rnonys a
mous will what is attractive in-character, nével in story. pure in sentiment, graceful |

         
 
   
 

t

        
       
 

Vo issue January 3d, We 1ehcc December
\ NOVEL AND ‘CHOICE WORK, BEADLE’S DID TE NOVELS
| fine R

 
 

to be added to

er 4
\DLE’S DIME SCHOOL SERIES, THE SCOUT ry -

    

The Old Dutcel h Blunde

DIMEDIALOGUES No, 3! stazorxew von mv:

BY HERRICK JO YSTON

EDITED BY DR. LOUIS LEGRAND. ‘ Embracing a fu eat

   
 
       
       
     
       
    

(tpt rie wigthal and specially prepared Dia Davin } l

1 the ‘fi, j « Burlesques, Comediettas, Dra To i ej 17
Bibi y jes. etc., etc.—rendering it a — ~ iC gh od eae aon de

+) DUE i highly prized issues B E ADLE’S S Di ME MiGs ION
a) Mioeas | Kmbodying a Racy, Eehilarating., an

    
   

    

y A PECULIAK FRATURE
! “ Wha f
aes WITLING CAPT
— Musical gud Fheral Drama. PY Pein 288 Wea é

and things OfeeLiC) on ; we

Bitters of Wotre |) ck ian S Pucbaren” ;
a (ited ot a: als.

wee S ule Aer 0) Teele haze
aa rn Mu, WOVELS

  
   

    

   
  
 

          

       
  

     
 

THE CAPTIVE OF THE HARPHS.

e

 

BY JOHN J. MARSHALL. ©

 

NEW YORK: 2-3
ta ee eer 8

BEADLE AND COMPANY, GENERAL DIME ROO: oa
No. 118 WiLLIAM STREET, i

 
  

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1864, ,
by BEADLE AND CompPpaANy, in the Clerk’s office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New York.

. 2)
‘ : '™ &:

 
OUTLAW BROTHERS.

CHAPTER I,
Coon’s Tavern.

A NIGHT of wind and rain closed down
upon a wayside tavern, which stood
close to the road in one of the north-
ern counties of Kentucky—a stormy
night, such as sometimes ushers in the
frosts and bleakness of autumn. The
house was a log structure, a single story
in hight, and was backed by a prime-
yal forest. The fire which snapped and
roared in the large fireplace of the bar-
room lighted up that. apartment with
a ruddy cheerfulness which made the
sound of the rain dashing against the
small windows, and of the wind whis-
tling about the corners of the house,
add, to the sense of warmth and com-
fort within. Several travelers were
weather-bound at the tavern ; and their
numbers had been added to, just at
dark, by the arrival of a party of hunt-
ers, Who had been out on a regular
hunting expedition, camping out for
several previous nights in the boundless
forests which overspread that portion
of the country. Their traps and ac-
couterments littered up the place, never
very tidy ; a heap of skins, the trophies
of their success, were piled in a corner,
and their rifles stacked in another.
They had made a bountiful supper
from the game with which they had
furnished the landlady, with the addi-

tion of corn-pone and coffee, and now
they returned from the kitchen in bois-
terous spirits, and joined the four * or
five others who lounged about the bar-
room hearth.

The hunters were a rough-looking
set, unshorn, unshaven, with flannel
shirts, deer-skin leggins, and knives
glittering in their leather belts. One
of them was a man nearly sixty years
of age, larger than any other person
in the room, rugged as a rock, with an
eye like blue fire, and iron-gray hair,
which lay heavily about his powerful
neck and shoulders. Any one, looking
at him for the first time, would be sure
to give hifh a second glance. He was
addressed by, his companions as Hick-
ory, or, more frequently, Hick.

Three or four of the travelers ap-
peared to be very common people, two -
of them teamsters returning from Mays-
ville; but one of the group attracted
much silent curiosity by his unlikeness
to all the rest of the company. He
was a well-dressed man of about twen-
ty-five, wearing a fine blue broadcloth
overcoat, which he had not yet removed,
although the great fire made the room
entirely comfortable. He had a ruddy
complexion, rather wiry form, and very
light hair, which gave him a boyish
appearance. He had already stated,
in answer to various questions—which,
according to the etiquette of the place,

 
  

© See
had been addressed to him—that he
hailed from Connecticut, that his name
was Smith, and that he was traveling
partly for his health, and also as a land-
agent.

The company soon became exceed-
ingly merry; one or two soiled packs
of cards were produced, while the corn-
juice of old Bourbon circulated freely
—this being the “native element” of
all human animals in that part of the
country. Some played, but the larger
part got to telling stories. It was a
capital night for stories; no yarn could
sound exaggerated when the storm was
making so much.noise and bluster out-
side. Ifthe hunters or the other way-
farers suspected that Coon’s tavern was
a hard place, and that some of their
companions were hard cases, why, each
was well armed and accustomed to
looking out for number one; while the
sense of lawlessness, even of danger,
added to the excitement and enjoyment
of the hour. The trees of the vast wil-
derness bent and creaked above thte
roof, and the light of the fire flared out
against the branches which scratched
the dismal little window-panes.

The downcast gentleman, ,in his fine
clothes, made himself one of the talk-
ing party, perhaps from” haying the
good sense not to hold himself aloof
in a crowd of rough, suspicious men,
but to do in Bourbon as the Bourbons
did. He listened with profound inte-
rest to outrageous tales, generally of
some unheard-of exploit, in which the
teller was the hero of his own narra-
tive. He never doubted, where it was
not safe to doubt, nor failed to express
admiration in the right place, so that
his entertainers began to conceive a fa-
vorable opinion of him, and to over-
come their prejudices against his broad-
cloth.

One of the teamsters told of an acci-
dent which had happened to him, with

  
  

‘

«4

erraN ove fae .
a run-away horse, which was so incred-
‘ible that. thé whole company were

obliged to strengthen their faith with
another “bracer” of corn-juice all
around.

“That was purty considerable of a
ride,” remarked a hunter in the right-
hand, corner of the chimney, who had
been poking the fire reflectively during
the teamster’s narrative, “but it don’t
quite ekal my trip to New Orleans last
fall, friend. Did I ever tell you about
that, boys? Didn’t? Iwas out ona
fishin’ excursion, you see—I ginerally
fishes awhile in the fall afore I settles
down for the winter. I had my own
boat, a small affair, jist big enough for
me, my traps, and the fish I expected
to cotch. Td been out a day or two,
spreadin’ around Mill Creek, near the
mouth, and hadn’t cotched much more’n
served for my own fodder. I begun to
get provoked, and concluded I’d run
out into the Ohio, and see if it wouldn’t
change the luck. It was a cloudy day,
tip-top for fishin’, and about three
o’clock in the afternoon, as nigh as I
could judge, without my old silver
turnip, which I’d lost. to Joe Frisbie
the last time we played seven-up—
about three o’clock, then, I fixed about
half a pound of fresh meat onto a stout
pot-hook which I kept for catfish.
Catfish is known to sometimes grow
to an enormous size in the Ohio. Mill
Creek, p’raps you know, empties into
the Ohio, above Maysville.

out my bait, and gettin’ ruther sleepy,
settin’ in the sun with nuthin’ to do but
wait for a bite—which wasn’t by no
means as plenty as ’skeeters in August
—and was jist dreamin’ that I'd beat
Joe at brag, and got back my turnip,

-when I was woke up by bein’ jerked

almost out of the boat. ‘It’s a big fel-
ler’s got hold of the hook this time,’
says I to myself, tryin’ to haul in the

It was jist
at the mouth of Mill Creek that I threw:

 

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wie

 

 
a

o> ct UN

aS ee ee ee: a Le

 

ss

* line—but, blast me, if I could pul

inch. I worried about five minutes,
without makin’ any headway, when I
suddingly discovered that I was a-going
down the river at arate which made
the trees on the shore seem to be run-
nin’ t’other way, like a big green snake.
Wal, I didn’t mind it for awhile; I
ruther enjoyed the ride. But when I
found I was passin’ Cincinnati, I begun
to think I was gettin’ too fur away
from home—twould take too much
time to get back again. ‘He must be
about tired out by this time,’ says I,

ulling with all my might and main ;
but my pullin’ didn’t set us back a bit.
We was going tre-mgndous. I begun
to git my dander up. I wasn’t goin’
to cave in toa catfish. ‘TV Il take that
feller back with me, if he don’t bring
up for an hour yit,’ says I, as it begun
to get towards night. I could a’ cut
the line, but I hadn’t no notion of let-
tin’ him go, arter the trouble he’d made
me. My dander was up. So was that
catfish’s. I wonder they don’t make
use df ’em on the canawls, instid
of horseflesh. We passed every thing
on the river. I reckon I astonished
the navigators some. You see, they
couldn’t tell, to save their gizzards,
what it was made my boat go along at
that thunderin’ rate. I wasn’t a rowin’
—I hadn’t no oars—TI hadn’t no sails
—TI jist shot past every thing, like a
streak of chain lightnin’. I’m bound
to say there’s‘lots of fellers on the Ohio
and Mississap, will sw’ar they’ve seen
the devil out in’ his pleasure-boat.
Things got out 0’ the way for me!
When they see me a-comin’, without
no visible means of propelsion, them
flatboats and vessels scud to one side
purty quick. ‘Hallo, ther, what’s up?”
‘Who be you?’ ‘Whar’ yer gwine ?”
they yelled arter me, but afore I could
answer, tell me I’m a fibbin’ if ther
wouldn’t be three miles between me

‘

5

Gs) so’s I couldn’t put an

answer together. We went it all
night. My ha’r stuck out straight be-

hind, and ‘my clo’es was mostly flyin’ in
ribbons with the wind wemade, agwine
so fast. It was ex-horbitant. As it
was gettin’ daylight we passed Mem-
phis.. About-that time I was willin’ to
cave. ‘See here, old feller,’ said I,
taking out my knife to cut the line, ‘I
guess you’ve ’arned your freedom—let’s
part friends ;’ and, reachin’ over to cut
the line, tell me I pre-var-i-cate, if it
wasn’t stretched so taut thatit curled up
the edge of the knife, likea cabbage-leaf.
I couldn’t make no more impression on
it than if ’twas a lightnin’-rod—which
I ruther reckon it w—about that
time! I begun to feel ser’us. The
catfish wasn’t the least bit tired. I
knew we should reach New Orleans
ag’inst night, and if he didn’t give out
afore that, the ocean was afore us, and
what my fate might be I shuddered to
think. I had a ringin’ in my ears, and
numerous onpleasant sensations. Wal,
about sunset I saw New Orleans in the
distance, and I braced myself for a
chance for life. The river was chock
full of craft, and how that fish steered
his course without runnin’ afoul of any
of ’em, I never could see. I knew now
that he was makin’ for the Gulf of Mex-
ico, straight as a string. As I said, I
braced myself. I stood up, keepin’ a
sharp eye ahead, and as we cum. up
opposite a favorable spot on the levee,
I jumped. I lighted right in a crowd
of surprised people. ‘ Blast that cat-
fish,’ said I, lookin’ around for my boat,
which was disappearin’ down the mouth
of the Mississap, ‘ef I’'d.a known he
was goin’ to take me so fur away from
home, I’d a put on my t’other suit of
clo’es.” Wal, my friends, I had to work
my passage back on a flatboat, and
never got home till the first of Novem-
ber. Sence then, I’m resolved not,'to

 
  

6

 

fish no more.
a team.”

“Is that incident true?” asked the
down-caster, in the blue overcoat.

“ Stranger,”
impressively, “‘do you see how thin my
ha’r is? It was mostly blowed out
by the wind, durin’ that trip to New
Orleans !”

The stranger directed bie attention
to the hair, with evident interest.

“Tt 7s rather thin,” he said. ‘ All
I’m surprised at is, that you wasn’t
blowed back as fast as the boat went
‘forward, so that when 7é reached the
Gulf of Mexico, you'd been brought up
standing, ag: net the North Pole.”

“Stranger,” said the teller of the
fish-story, “ will you try a leetle of this
corn-juice ? It’s a better oom than
they make in your country.’

While they were attending to this
important. duty, a bush-ranger, who
had cast several ill-natured glances at
the blue overcoat, remarked :

“T thrashed one of them set-up fel-
lers as travels around in broadcloth,
last summer. He insulted me, and I
whipped him.”

“ How did he insult you, Johnny ?”
queried several.

“ Wal, there was a lot of us travelin’
together in the stage-coach to Mays-
ville. I went-by stage, cos I had busi-
ness, and was ina hurry. We stopped
to a tavern to get dinner. One of the
passengers was a fixed-up chap, from
down east. He talked free enough,
but. after dinner, as we was standin’
about the door, waitin’ for the hosses

‘to be put to the stage, he got a glass
of water to the pump, and brushed his
teeth, with a fixin’ that he had made
a-purpose. You know our free-and-easy
ways, out west. Folks ain’t afraid
neither to lend nor borrow. Id never
seen a tooth- brush afore, and I thought
Td like to try it, to see how it went.

wasn’t too mean to lend it.
answered the narrator,,

   

a eee ee” -
"So T-asked him if he wouldn’t obleege

me by lending it to me a minit—and,
blast the stingy; stuck-up scamp, if he
I didn’t
care a red cent for his old tooth-brush,
but I did for his meanness; and I cut
a hickory switch from a tree near by, .
and licked it out of him.”

“Stranger,” said the blue overcoat,
quietly, “‘’twas a friend of mine re-
fused you the use of his tooth-brush.

TL heard him tell the story when he got

back from his travels—only your ac-
count and his differs a trifle. My friend
says that it was he who made use of
the hickory switch, after you had been
so impolite as to,squirt tobacco-juice on
him, by accident.”

At this crisis in the story-telling there
was danger of an interruption to the
prevailing good feeling; the surly
ranger made an advance upon tite broad-
cloth, but his fellows held him back, and
laughed him out of it.

“ Fair play, to-night, for everybody,
and no quarrelin’,” said a good-natured
hunter, “you’re alwayslike across dog,
Johnny. Take a little drop of corn-
juice, and see if it don’t help your tem-
per.”

The advice was complied with.
During the temporary lull within, the
storm burst forth more furiously with-
out; the windows rattled, the branches
of trees grated and creaked against the
roof, the wind shrieked dolefully, rush-
ing past the house with’ long, unearth-
ly sighs and screams.

“ Glad we ain’t out in the woods to-
night,” said Old Hick, the chief of the
hunters. ‘‘ Come, now,'friend Smith,
from down east, it’s your turn.”

“7’m no hand at a story,” answered
the traveler, pulling out his bandana
handkerchief from his pocket, and rub-
bing the side of his face. “I can turn
a grindstone and a spinning-wheel, but
I can’t turn a story. But, speaking

 

 
 

’

  
  
   

of turning a spinning-wheel ji
. ean
in mind of a ride I had, dow

most 4 pers to that trip down ‘the Mis-

sissippi.”

At this crisis in the story, Old Hick-
ory suddenly rose, giving so strange a
look out of one of the windows, that
the eyes of all involuntarily followed
his. What they saw there caused all
to spring to their feet. The face of a
woman was pressed against the glass—
a white young face, with dripping locks
blowing about it; the next instant it
vanished, the wet branches of the trees
swept against the panes, while a pierc-
ing shriek rung high above the tempest.

The blue overcoat was the first to
reach,and throw open the door. The
light of the door, streaming out, be-
trayed the form of a huge negro, who
had apparently just come up in front
of the house, and who was turning his
head in all directions, as if endeavoring
to follow up the imploring ery. His
bare arms, his wild, aroused face, like
that of an animal which is being hunt-
ed to death, his enormous size, his
glowing eyes, made a figure so un-
looked-for and terrific, in the midst of
the darkness and storm, that all, except
Colonel Smith, were appalled. He
seized the rifle which, like the others,
he had placed in a corner, and sprung
out.

“© What is it, fur God’s sake, Brutus?
Has any thing happened to her ?”

“She’s done gone, sah. They’s
caught her, I’s afraid.”

“ Hark |”

Again that sharp shriek rung over
all other sounds, prolonged, desperate.
It sounded further away now, down
the road, and by a flash of lightning
the party had a glimpse of three. per-
sons running along the road. Captain
Smith dashed after them, followed by
the negro and Old Hickory. Half a
dozen others joined in the pursuit, but

distanced them, and
sing all trace of their

encs. the iets ratiniadd to the tay-

ern, wet, wondering, and dispirited,
sitting about the fire to dry themselves,
and looking as if they had seen ghosts.

“That beats all ever I saw,” re-
marked one, taking a little more corn-
juice to raise his spirits. “It couldn’t
a been no young female out such a
night as this—and that nigger was the
devil hisself, for I saw his horns.”

“So did I, plain,” asseverated an-
other.

“We all saw ’em,” added a third,
“as plain as I see that fire this minute.
It’s my opinion ’twas a scaly trick of
Old Nick to get hold of us fellers; and
I’m right sorry Hickory was led away
by it.”

“Let Old Hickory alone,” said the
first speaker ; “he'll take care of him-
self. He’s an honest man, and needn’t
fear even Satan himself. Now, ifsit

was J, with this here pack o’ cards in

my pocket, there might be more rea-
son.”

“ Welk, I wish he’d come back, any-
how.”

But back neither he nor the blue
overcoat dame that night, It required
an extra quantity of old Bourbon to
compose the travelers to sleep; arfd,
after they had stretched themselves
about the fire.on their extemporized
beds, a louder outbreak of the tempest
would cause them to start and mutter
in their sleep.

CHAPTER II.
The Harpes and their Captive.

Axsovut four months previous to the
night with which our story opens, a
young man, who had been riding all
day through the boundless forest, stop-
ped, a little after sunset, before a log-

 
  

evening, and the place, though solitary,
had no particularly bad look about it.
The traveler threw a sharp glance in
at the open door, which betrayed a
group of women and children. In
those days it was only the most ordi-
nary prudence for people to go well
armed when abroad from home; and
to look twice before they confided
themselves to the hospitality of stran-
gers ; though the warm-hearted friend-
ship of the better class of settlers
was given to all who asked it. Yet
Kentucky, like every other border State,
was overrun with another and worse
class, who, fleeing from eastern justice,
or too lazy to make an honest living,
sought refuge in the’ woods, whose
coverts hid them from pursuit, and
whose plentiful game furnished them a
living without much exertion.
, One glance would have told that the
traveler was from the New England
States; his air of intelligence, as well
as his dress, which was not of the
Kentucky style, together with a certain
shrewd brightness of the eye, pro-
claimed the fact. Looking forward
along the darkening path, which pro-
mised no end, and again into the cabin,
swarming with the inmates, who now
began to cluster about the door, he
finally called out :

“Hallo the house! Will you tell me,
ma’am, how far it is to the next tavern ?”

* Don’t know of none in these parts,”
was the answer of one of the three
women who blockaded the entrance—
a wretched specimen of her sex, with

a savage expression of face, and gar-
ments neither neat or becoming.

“JT reckon you'll ride till you get
tired, if it’s tayerns you're after,” add-
ed the second, with a smirk, as if she
took pleasure in the ability to discon-
cert the stranger. .

  
 
  
 

bridle-path. It was a pleasant, pure

’

©“Thém- I shall have to ask you for
food and shelter to-night,” said he,
pleasantly. “T’ve been going all day,
with nothing to eat but what I brought
in my knapsack, and myself and horse
are both tired. . Will you accommodate
me ?”

The three women exchanged a glance.
A peculiar expression crept over their
faces; after a moment’s hesitation, the
first one spoke again:

“We sometimes takes people who
can pay-their way.”

“Oh, as.to that,” said the young
man, laughing, as he leaped from his
horse, “I shall feel it a favor to be
allowed to pay well for every thing.
If you'll get me some supper, Ill water
my horse at the spring there, and then
bring him around to the back of the
house, and let him graze awhile before
I tie him up.. Haven’t you any men-
folks about ?” he continued, with some
curiosity.

“My husband’s off on a hunt, and
won’t be back for a week or more,”
said the woman first’ mentioned.
“These ere’s husbands .is gone, too;
and they and they’re young’ uns is stay-
in’ with me, cos we feel more safe
under one roof. It’s a lonesome coun-
try for women-folks to live when the
men’s gone.”

“What do you fear?
or Indians ?”

“Well, we reckon the Injuns the
most troublesome, kase we can keep
the b’ars out, but. the Injuns can burn
us up in our beds.”

Half a dozen children, like their moth-
ers, dirty-looking and wild, crowded
around the traveler as he took his horse
to the spring, To get rid of them, for
they were not clean enough to make
close companionship desirable, he threw
them a handful of pennies.

It. was some time before he was
ready to enter the house. First he

Wild beasts

 

 

 
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he,
lay,
ht
orse
late
1¢e.
leir

the

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ne

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eared for his animal, then he

 

   

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his face and hands in water fom

  
 

4 the's Rtrong smell, which al-

 

  

spring, and wiped them on a t@we
which he took from his knapsatk,
rightly guessing that wash-bowls and
towels were luxuries foreign to the
cabin. Having combed out his long,
light hair to his satisfaction, he took
up his baggage and entered the general
room, which, a little to his surprise,
had an addition of a kitchen in the rear
—two rooms being a fuller supply than
settlers usually possessed. An inviting
odor of fried ham.and eggs and coffee
already came from this rear apartment,
in which the women were to be heard
moving about. There were no signs
of poverty about the place; he had
found quite a serviceable log-stable be-
hind the house, with two really fine
horses in it; and now, as he took a
seat on the door-sill, and glanced about
the room, he saw two or three excel-
lent saddles, a handsome harness, and
all kinds of hunting gear depending
from pegs in the wall. There were a
couple of beds, on home-made bed-
steads; and a very large blue chest,
which stood between them, at the end
of the apartment. Under the beds was
a confused heap of boxes, harnesses,
boots, and household “ trash,” put there
to be “out of the way.” One little
circumstance struck the traveler as
queer. Being a Yankee, he had a head
for numbers; and, although he was
tired, and thinking of supper, it floated
dreamily through his brain that there
was an unusual and unreasonable num-
ber of portmanteaux, saddle-bags, and
knapsacks among the stowed-away rub-
bish. He gave it no particular thought
at the time, but afterward he recalled
it very vividly. Two of the largest

boys were tossing up the pennies he
had given them, beginning a life of
prospective gambling by playing “heads
and tails.”

The other children had

meat. eased the traveler to forget how

very dirty were the, women who pre-
pared the viands. Presently one of
these appeared, and bid her guest
“come into the other room and sit by.”

The table was set for four; it was
too small to accommodate the younger
members of the family, who were sent
out into the yard to await their turn.
The young man found the food not
only mrere various in kind, but more
neatly served. than he had dared to
expect. Ham, fried chicken, milk, cof
fée and wild-honey graced the board.
But for the first moment or two, he
noticed nothing of this; his attention
was completely absorbed by another
inmate of the cabin, whom he had not
previously seen. Even now she did
not look at him, but stood by the bak-
ing-kettle on the hearth, with folded
hands and downcast eyes. She was‘a
young girl, no better dressed than the
others, except that her linsey-woolsey
gown was clean and fitted her figure;
but she appeared so totally distingt from
the others in features and expression,
that she seemed to have dropped into
this abode from some better sphere.
About sixteen years of age, with a clear
skin, smooth, plentiful hair neatly braid-
ed, and the form of a Hebe, it scarcely
needed her modest, grave: expression
to make the traveler think her very
pretty. He was twice asked by the
hostess if he took ‘lasses in his coffee,
before he withdrew his eyes to answer
that he did not. His interest was not
unmarked by the woman, who, as she
passed him the cracked cup, spoke
sharply to the girl:

“What be you standin’ thar like a
fool fur, Peggy? Hand up the cakes,
if thur brown enough.”

“Who is it?” the traveler was im-
pelled to ask, curiosity or surprise

 

  
  

10

 

overcoming prudence.
ter, ma’am ?”

“Yes, my darter; and an idle, good-
for-nothin’ girl she is.”

As the woman said this, the girl
flashed a swift glance, at the guest;
her cheeks, already flushed with the
heat of the fire on that June evening,
grew red as roses; she stooped, and
busied herself removing the corn-cakes
from the bottom of the kettle.

‘Of course it will do for her mother
to say that,” answered the young man,
striving to do away with the effect of
‘this rude remark, “ but I wouldn’t like
to see any one else venture to say so in
your presence.”

“La, ’m not so partik’ler.
somever, Peg’s well enough when she’s
a mind to work; but she’s powerful
shiftless.”

The young man’s eyes meeting the
young girl’s at that moment, as she
was placing the cakes on the table,
both smiled. The vixen who presided
over the coffee-pot did not observe this ;
but it established a magnetic telegraph
between the two, which placed them in
silent correspondence, While the oth-
ers ate, Peggy baked cakes for them;
but she did it with a regal air, like a
princess serving under protest.

“What a magnificent woman she
would make, under favorable. cireum-
stances,” speculated the traveler, as he
varied his corn-cakes and honey with
glances at his fair attendant. “TI feel
like stealing her from these harsh peo-
ple, and giving her to some one who
can appreciate her. It’s a shame, real-
ly, the way that woman drives her
around.”

Although angry with his hostess for
her harshness to the girl, he knew
better than to show it, and continued
to make himself as entertaining as pos-
sible in payment for the trouble he
was giving. He told several amusing

   
  
  

How-

Bas °

necdotes of his travels, and gave the
atest news from the east, with such
spirit and -good-humor, that the three
shrews laughed and listened with many
admiring glances at “the peart young
feller.” His efforts to amuse were not
so entirely for their pleasure as they
imagined ; he saw the kindling color,
and the long, fixed look of another lis-
tener,

Darkness crept over them before
they abandoned the table. Peggy
lighted a thin tallow dip, and stuck it
in a wooden holder. As the others
left the meal, she called the eager chil-
dren and sat down with them.

The traveler resumed his seat in the
door; butit was the back, not the front
door. Presently he pulled the pieces
of a flute from his pocket, and putting
it together, began toplay. At first he
made the woods resound with merry
dancing-tunes, until the three women
declared themselves ready to dance a,
jig; but, gradually, the character of
the music changed to soft and melan-
choly airs, which are so indescribably
touching upon the flute, with twilight
and the whispering forest about one.
Even the children huddled about, sit-
ting on their knees till they fell asleep

and tumbled over; their mothers sat

wrapped in pleased wonder, and Peg-
gy, who knew not that the tallow dip
revealed her face, was weeping fast and
silently.

There was a softer expression on the
face of the girl’s mother than he had
thought her capable of; but when he
ceased to play, it went away again,
and she bustled about as coarsely as
ever, hustling the children off to bed,
and scolding Peg for not having her
dishes washed.

Our New Englander was a keen ob-
server, and it began to impress itself
upon him, that this isolated cabin in
the backwoods had an uncanny air, as

 

 

 
 

 
  
      

“
Re
if it really were not the hom
nocent family of settlers’ w
children. He began to feel as if the

husbands of such wives must be bad

men, and to be glad they were away

from home during his visit. He would

have liked to talk alone with the girl

Peggy, to find if she really was as su-

perior as she looked; and to let her

know he liked her, and pitied her; but

the women were like Cerberus, and ef-

fectually guarded the golden fruit. At

every attempt he made to get near her,

or on the same side of the room, one of
these would foil his wish. He was cer-

tain, at last, that the girl had something

she wished to say to him; and he would

have given a five-dollar gold piece to

know what it was. He was obliged to

give up the hope when his hostess

hinted to him that it was time to retire.

For the last fifteen minutes Peggy had

been absorbed with an old ragged book,

which looked like a speller, and paid

no attention to him.

“She can read, then,” he thought;
and as he was requested to “ turn in,”.
in no ceremonious manner, he said,
“ Good-night, Peggy,” and moved out
into the front room, where he took his
carpet-bag and began to ascend the
ladder, to which he was pointed, as
leading to his place of rest.

“Vd really lit a light -a few mo-
ments,” he said, insinuatingly, to the
woman. “J always write afew words
in my diary before I go to bed.”

“Peg, bring that candle!” shouted
her mother, and Peg brought it meekly.
As she gave it to the guest, she press-
ed something else into his hand. In-
stantly comprehending that she wished
the act to pass unnoticed, he covered
the little wad of paper with the end of
the candle, thanked her, and went up
the ladder.

“Yer bag’s right heavy—shan’t I
tote it for ye? Reckon thar’s shiners in

"ives and

11

been the unpleasant remark of

and one of the group, as she hauded up his

baggage.

“ Nothing but stones,” he said, quick-
ly. “I’m a geologist, and I always
have my pockets and bag full of speci-
mens.”

“Tell that to the wolves,” she an-
swered, with a sly laugh.

His curiosity was intense to’ learn
what had been so mysteriously given
him. Placing his wooden candlestick
on the floor, he knelt before it in such
a position that should any prying eyes
be lifted above the ladder, they could
not discern the nature of his occupa-
tion. He then examined his new pos-
session. It was a leaf torn out of the
old spelling-book, and over it were
written, in rude letters, with a piece
of coal, a communication which it took
him some time to decipher. It had
evidently been composed with an effort.
A cold shiver crept over him as he be-
gan to make it out. It ran thus:

“Do you know whar you are. This
howse is the Harpes. They ur gone
away; but wil be bak late to nite. If
you ur here they wil kil you. Clere
out if you kin, and dont forgit Peggy
who-wil be kiled mebbe fer tellin’. If
I’m not kiled try and come bak with
help and tak me away. I’m not thare
dauter. I was stole when I was ate
years old. I-could rite som then but
Tv most forgot how. I’ve run away
three times, but they got me agin. You
look kind—so I tel you this. Dont
come unles you ar shure you kin get
me oph.”

The bravest of the brave might have
been excused for feeling a chill of hor-
ror ¢reep over him, at finding himself
thus shut up in the very den of the ter-
rible Harpes. No reader of the his-
tory of [Kentucky but is familiar with
their reputation. They were, or repre- .
sented themselves to be, brothers, who
appeared in Kentucky about the year
1793, spreading death and terror

 
  

wherever they went. They }
them three women, who were treatol”
as their wives, and several children,
with whom they traversed the moun-
tainous and thinly-settled parts of Vir-
ginia into Kentucky, marking their
course with blood. Their history is
wonderful, as well from the number
and variety as the incredible atrocity
of their adventures.

Passing rapidly through the better

settled parts of Kentucky, they pro--

ceeded to the country south of Green
rivtr, which, at that time, was just be-
ginning to be inhabited. Here they
soon acquired a dreadful celebrity.
Neither avarice, want, nor any of the
usual inducements to crime, seemed to
govern their actions. A savage thirst
for blood—a_ deep-rooted mallenity
against human nature, could alone be
discovered in their conduct. They
murdered every defenseless being who
fell in their way, without distinction
of age, sex, or color. In the night,
they stole secretly to the honest settler’s
cabin, slaughtered its inhabitants and
burned their dwellings; while the farm-
er who left his home by day, returned
to witness the dying agonies of his wife
and children and the conflagration of
his possessions. Plunder was not their
object; travelers they robbed and mur-
dered, but from the inhabitants they
took only what would have been freely
given them; they destroyed without
having suffered injury, and without the
prospect of gain. Females, children
and servants no longer dared to stir
abroad; unarmed men feared to en-
counter a Harpe; and the solitary

 

hunter, as he trod the forest, looked
around him with a watchful eye, and
when he saw a stranger, picked his
flint and stood upon the defensive.
The spoils of their dreadful warfare
furnished them with the means of vio-
lence and of escape. Mounted on fine

     

Bey plunged into the forest,
eluded ‘pursuit by frequently changing
their course, and appeared unexpect-
edly, to perpetrate new enormities, at
points distant from those where they
were supposed to lurk. On these oc-
casions they often left their wives and
children behind them. So says the
careful historian of characters so black
that otherwise we should not dare to
paint them. It is not strange that the
young traveler, albeit brave, self-pos-
sessed, and armed with a pair of pistols
and knife, should shudder at knowing
himself in the house of the Harpes.
He glanced about him nervously, and
again read over the charcoal scrawl.
Although a traveler, and from the
East, he was not unfamiliar with the
State he was traversing ; having been

out once before, and spent the better’

part of two years in Jand-surveying.
It was to look after the interests of
the vast quantity of land he had earned
as a surveyor—land which promised
tomake him immensely wealthy within
a few years—that he was now journey-
ing through this wild, half-settled dis-
trict. Everywhere,’ since he entered
the West, he had heard of the terrible
brothers; they were the talk over
tavern-fires and by farmers’ hearths ;
and he, though full of courage, had
given more than one look behind him
that very day, thinking he heard the
distant sound of horses’ feet.
Thoughts were pressed so rapidly
upon his brain that they almost made
him dizzy. Zis explained that strange
omnium gatherum of stirrups, bridles,
saddles, portmanteaux, etc., under the
beds, down-stairs—the rifled property
of victims, trapped, some of them, like
himself. No wonder the faces of those
fearful women looked cruel and brutal,
debased as they were by such associa-
tions. He understood, now, something
strange and startled in the expression

 

 
cr
-

T= ee > a a Vy US

 

#.
_of the young girl—a Wi

 

  

+

co 4
had several times passed.ove
wise sweet countenance.

No doubt she had no sympathy with
the people about her, but was obliged
to live in the midst of scenes which
she loathed. The fact that she had
several times attempted escape from
them, proved that, as she grew older,
and comprehended more of what she
saw and heard, her pure soul shrunk
from contact with it. Poor girl! What
would her ultimate fate be? He could
not think of it without distress; nei-
ther could he make up his mind to
abandon her, perhaps to be punished
for warning him to leave.

At first he decided that he would go
boldly down, call Peggy, mount her
behind him on his horse, and break for
the deep woods. For he knew that of
course this was not a permanent resi-
dence, and that perhaps by the time he
was ready to return with a proper es-
cort to secure her release, the family
might be hidden in some remote wil-
derness which would baffle his search.
They would pack up, on the morrow,
knowing themselves discovered, and fly
to a new den.

Yet, even did they get away from
the house successfully, how wonld he
and his companion continue their flight
along that narrow bridle-path, which
was not any too well marked to be
kept by daylight? If the men re-
turned soon, familiar as they were with
the woods, they would easily overtake
their prey.

One thing, certainly, was in his fa-
vor, and, as he thought of it, his heart
bounded with joy. The moon was at
the full. It would shine, all night, in
the cloudless summer heaven. With
Caleb King, to think was ‘to decide.

 
 
 
 
 
  

13.

Tue little tallow dip fluttered and
sputtered in its wooden socket; it
would burn but amoment longer. Ca-
leb opened his carpet-bag and trans+
ferred from thence what coin was in it
to his pocket; looked at his pistols, to
see if they were in order 3 loosened his —
knife, saw by his watch that it was
already ten o’clock of the brief June
night. He then wrote on a slip which
he tore from his note-book :

“Come out to the stable in five min-
utes. Ishall be ready to go, and wish
your company. When I whistle, run
like a deer, no matter what they say.”

This he printed, rather than wrote,
so that it could be easily read; and
then, just as the flame expired, he re-
moved two or three small articles from
the bag to his pockets, and abandoned
the rest of his property. Going to the
top of the ladder, he called out, in a
cheery, innocent voice :

“ Hallo! ladies, may I come down?
I hear my horse making some fuss, and
I'll have to look after him. I guess
the other horses are quarreling with
the stranger; and I'd better tie him
further away.”

Then, as they grufily gave consent
to his reappearance, he crawled down
the ladder, rubbing his eyes and say-
ing, peevishly :

“That horse of mine is always get-
ting into trouble with his neighbors,
It’s too bad to be called out of bed
when a feller’s so tired and sleepy he
can’t keep his eyes open.”

The women had none of them re-
tired, which induced him to think they
intended to wait up for the men; and
therefore that these might be home
sooner than Peggy had intimated.
They eyed him. suspiciously; and by
the dim light of one dip, they looked
  

dangerous and savage’ a J
understood that the “thteer villes ina
corner of the room were loaded. The
fact that he had left his carpet-sack up-
stairs lulled any suspicions they might
have entertained, and he was permitted
' to pass out.

“ Peggy, won’t you come and hold
alight forme? If the horses are un-
‘tied, or in any trouble, Pll have to
have one.” .

“That she won’t,” responded her
- pretended mother, sharply. “It’s time
gals was in bed. If you need a can-
dle, I’ll hold it.”

She went to get one as: she’ spoke.
Here was a dilemma. If she went
with him to the stable, how could he
saddle his own horse and another, un-
der her surveillance? He opened the
door, and spoke as if he had just dis-
covered it,:

“Why, how bright the moon is!
Really, I shall not need a light at all,
maam, and you need not trouble your-
self.”

Peggy, as if some instinct told her
what was wanted, stepped to the door
and looked out, giving him the oppor-
tunity of slipping the paper into her
hand. Gayly humming a tune, he
stepped toward the stable; the girl,
pretending to look at the moon, read
the paper.

“ Come in, Peg, and shut that door.
One would think you was cracked
after that young man.”

The girl obeyed; closing the back
door, and thus concealing the traveler’s
proceedings, but going coolly to the
front door, and sitting down on the

step, gazing up at the moon, as if she »

had not a thought but that it was big
and bright.

In less than five minutes she heard a
low whistle just around the corner of
the house ; her heart was in her throat,
and suffocated her, but she forced ‘it

  
  
 
 

Ov “effort conte of a hero,
and glided” to the corner. There stood
the atr anger, with two horses, which
he had “ “saddled and bridled,” “all
ready for fight,” and led out, softly
from the stable.

** Can you ride ?” he whispered. *

¢-Yes.”

* Mount, then, and go to the east.”

She sprung into the saddle without
help—in one half-minute had all this
been accomplished.

“ Peg,” called a furious voice at the
door, “ Peg, where are you ?”

“ Here !” answered the sturdy voice
of Caleb King, “and good-by to you,
ma’am.” And the two riders darted
out of covert, close to the garments of |
the astonished woman.

A curse was'the last thing they heard,
as they bounded into the road and
dashed along, the stranger leading and
the girl keeping close behind.

“We are safely out of that, any-
how,” he said, after they had left the
house out of sight.

“Yes, but I am afraid of worse,”
said Peggy, coming alongside. ‘ Un-
less I’m mistaken, this is the road they.
were to come home. We shall meet
*em, I’m sure.”

“The men ?”

“© Ves,”

“ Keep a stout heart, Peggy. When
we hear or see them coming, we’ll con-
ceal ourselves in the forest till they
pass by.”

“ But they'll be coming slower than
we are going; and they will hear us
first, and ride in the woods themselves.
They will shoot us as we pass.”

“ That’s well thought of, Peggy—
we'll go slower then. We'll not talk
much, and will listen hard.. But there’s
this thine—if they should come home
some other way, and take after us,.we
lose time by going so slow.”

“Their horses will be tired out—

 

 

 
 

    
  
   
 
 

s .
they always aff when
and now there’s but one ire
since we have the other, If%
to a race we'll beat ’em.”

She said this so resolutely that he
felt a new admiration for her.

“ You are sure, then, that you could
ride hard, if necessary ?”

“Yes! I’ve been with them often
enough to learn that.”

They rode slowly along, in many
cases the road so narrow that they
were obliged to go in single file, the
moon riding high in the heavens, but
casting wild, fantastic shadows over
them, from the branches of trees, which
hung so close and low they sometimes
brushed against them. Speaking but
seldom, and listening always intently,
their animals. stepping, lightly on the
turf, which was trodden so seldom as
to be still grassy, they had proceeded
forward not quite an hour, when sud-
denly Pegey pressed forward to her
companion’s side, whispering :

Hark !”

They checked. their ce and dis-
tinctly heard the regular trot of two
horses coming toward them at moder-
ate speed. There was a bend in the
road just ahead, and the sound being
so muffled in grass, they guessed that
the riders could not be far away.

“Into the woods, quick !” w i tenanad
Caleb King; and turning his rein, hé
darted into the dark shadow of the
forest, followed by the girl, who said,
keeping up with him: ‘ Further—far-
ther in! Do you know I’m afraid my
horse will neigh.” _

All her courage seemed to have for-
saken her. The mere thought that
those men, whom she so feared and
detested, were so near at hand, set
her heart to palpitating fr iehtfally.

“Keep up your courage, that’s a>
good girl,” murmured Caleb. :

They made their way about a rod

By 15,
a

when they checked
stood silent as death.
avelers, whoever they
were, approached along the road, pass-
ed ‘opposite, and were already beyond
them, and they beginning to breathe,
more freely, when the animal which
Peggy rode, seeming to recognize his
friends, gave a loud,.prolonged neigh.
Instantly the strange riders checked ¢
their course; our party could not see
them, but iow caught the words, ut-
tered with an oath:

“ That’’ my horse, Bill.
chief is up, now?”

“‘ We'll soon see,” said the other, and
together they dashed into the woods
directly toward the concealed couple.

“Now, my girl, follow me!” eried
Caleb King; and wheeling, he dashed
off among the trees and underbrush at
arate which might have proved dan-
gerous, had not his horse been, possess-
ed of almost human sagacity. As it
was, they miraculously escaped death
among the branches and thickets which
impeded their progress, and came out
upon the road a few rods above the
point at which they had deserted it.
Their pursuers followed them by the
sound of crashing underbrush. The
point at which they reappeared was
more grassy and open than usual, the
forest circling off leaving an open space,
which, as they rode over it, made them
fair marks for the two men, who dash-
ed after them, not three minutes be-
hind.

“Stop, or we'll fire!” théy yelled.

The flying couple knew too well that
they would fire if they did stop; Caleb
stroked his horse, urging it on with
some familiar wofd hich auaae it fairly
bound over the ground, while looking
back with anxious eye, he was glad to
see that the girl kept well up with
him.

Crack!

What mis-

crack!—two_ pistol-shots,

 
  

which whistled aveliva the

injury. oe
“They have rifles, too.

OL to the
shadow of the wood,” cried Peggy.

Another and louder shot—another!
Caleb looked to see where the girl was ;
she was close beside him, unharmed,
her gallant animal keeping up with his.

“Thank God, the shadows will dis-
tract their aim,” murmured Caleb, as
they ‘sprung forward where the path
was again closed in with woods.

He did not attempt to guide his
horse, leaving the choice of the way to
him, and the noble fellow galloped as
if he knew that he bore his master’s
life in his paces. Peggy kept close be-
hind, and once she screamed:

“Faster! I hear
faster !”

For a terrible halfhour it was all
suspense. Then, as the girl had said,
the previously worn condition of the
pursuers’ horses began to tell on them,
their speed flagged, they fell so far
behind as to be neither seen nor heard,
Still, they did not feel safe; the enemy
might be making a détour, to dash out
upon them, by some shorter path with
which they were familiar. On—on—
-they urged their steeds, until every
muscle of the hardy animals was
strained, and foam and sweat covered
them.

“I think we may venture to rest,”
said the young man, after what seemed
an age, but was, in reality, an hour.
“We shall kill our horses if we keep
on at this rate.”

They drew rein, listening attentively.
Nothing was to be heard except the
panting of the horses; the moon shone
brightly through a rift in the trees; all
was quiet, solemn, and strange.

“You are a brave woman, Peggy, to
keep up with me to-night.”

He could see her blush and smile in

them coming—

  
 
 

: ~
j00nlicht, pleased with his

approval® The ride had shaken down

her hair, which glistened and waved
about her face. Really she was very
pretty—more than pretty—handsome,
spirited, equal to an emergency.

It was a wild and curious adventure
which had thrown this young woman
upon his protection, under such novel
circumstances. He had a few moments
time to think of it, before she spoke:

“Oh, sir, let us not rest very long.
I do not feel safe yet. Indeed, you
do not know how bad they are, nor
what they can do.”

Her cheek grew pale withthe thought,
and she glanced about her like a fright-
ened deer.

“Well, Prince, are you ready to
start?” said Caleb to his horse. “The
young lady thinks we are not yet free
from danger.”

His cheerful tone reassured her. She
was almost ready to laugh, as they
again proceeded ‘on their singular
journey, swiftly, but with less wild
speed than before. Caleb had many
things to consider during the long hours
of their night-ride—the principal of
which was the safety of the girl he
had taken under his wing. He well
knew that pursuit would be long-con-
tinued, persevering, and conducted
with the malignant skill and revenge-
ful malice to be expected from such
characters.
of Kentucky would be minutely search-
ed, by night, by day, by unexpected
methods; and a devilish ingenuity
racked to track the fugitive to her con-
cealment. Where, then, should he con-
vey her? How conceal her until his

“business in the West was finished, and

he could take her to the East, and
place her ‘under proper protection ?
For this he had already resolved to
do.

Every acre of the State:

 

 

t
:
]
]

mm 0UCUcrrertlUrMFltéCOS

=a

 
 

   

Brutus and his Now one —

Four days after the adv enture of the
last chapter, just as the family of a
wealthy planter in Bourbon county
were. about retiring for the night,
horses were heard riding up to the
door, upon which some one knocked
witha whip. The good “squire” him-
self, in his shirt-sleeves, opened the
door, and peered out, light in hand, at
the new-comers.

* Hallo! King, is that you? Glad
to see you. Where'd you come from?
And why in wonder have you got with
you?” he added, sotto voce.

“It’s me, no mistake, Squire Clai-
borne. I promised you I’d come out
west this summer, and hereIlam. Can
I put up with you tonight? DPvea
little business to talk over.”

“JT reckon you needn’t ask that ques-
tion here. If my house wasn’t big
enough for my friends, I’d have it made
bigger, short order. Dm right glad to

see you, too; Ite been thinkin’ a good

deal about that land operation, this
season. Ho, Brutus! come and take
the gentleman’s horses. Who’ve you

got there, King—your sister, or your.

9”

wife ¢
The squire might have been excused
the look of curiosity he bent upon the
bare-headed girl, in her linsey-woolsey
frock, who, with downcast eyes, sat
upon a horse, beside the young man.

“ She is a friend, squire, and that, I
trust, will secure her a welcome among
your women-folks, until I have time to
_ tell you all about her. She has a his-
tory which will interest you.”

“ All right, my friend. She’s wel-

come; and I’m sure you needn’t keep -

out here to tell any stories. Come in,
come in.
take these horses away, and treat ’em
well.”

2

Oh-h, Brutus! here, boy, .

sidithe: youps gentleman, capes

as @ large, singular-looking negro eame

up, and took the reins of the animals.

He doffed his cap and smiled, show-
ing himself well pleased when he ree
ognized the guest.

“ We're glad to see you back, massa
Caleb. Jl tend to dem hosses, sar-
tain. Why,” he exclaimed, as the light
fell more plainly on the weary and pant-
ing animals, ‘“ dey looks like dey’d seen
hard times.”

“They have—they’ve passed through
a trying ordeal, Brutus,”, said Qaleb
King, turning to assist his companion
to dismount, but she had sprung to the
ground, and was looking swiftly about
her as if she wished to face her position,
however doubtful it might be.

* Passed through a frying cordial,
have they?” repeated the servant, who,
like all of his race, preferred high-

sounding. words. ‘That’s what the

matter wid ’em, is it ?—oh, ho! I don’
wonder dey looks bad.” ,

Thé squire ushered his guests: into
the hall, where his wife came out to

meet them; and a hospitable bustle

succeeded the previous quiet. They
were taken into the kitchen to wash
themselves, where the cook soon placed:

a cold but substantial supper on the
table, their hostess rightly guessing:

they would prefer this to the delay of
a warm meal and the dining-room.
Mrs. Claiborne was as kind-hearted as
it was possible for’ a woman to be,
which is saying a good deal, and was
very motherly to the young girl; yet
she could hardly conceal the curiosity

she felt as to Whoeshe was, where she

came from, and why she had no. bon-
net.

Her curiosity was soon gratified. As
soon as the guests had finished their
meal, King asked for a private inter-
view with his friends, and the four

ae
ss

 
  

18

 

adjourned to the “ stiri root,” winars,

with closed doors, and chairs drawn
closely together, the whole story of the
last four days was related. The Clai-
bornes listened with breathless interest,
for the mere. mention of the name of
Harpe was enough to thrill them with
mingled horror and curiosity. . The
girl bore, with a dignity which could
hardly have been expected, the inquis-
itive looks which were bent upon her;
her cheek was pale and her eyes heavy
with fatigue, and yet a sort of gladness
illuminated her countenance—like that
which might the face of one rescued
from some terrible danger. Every look,
every word, betrayed how utterly she
loathed the companionship into which
she had-been forced. It was fearful to
think of the years through which she
had passed—years which should have
been the most joyous of her life, filled
with innocent hopes, yet darkened by
this shadow, turned to dread and mis-
ery by the knowledge which crept
about her, like a serpent, of the char-
aeter of those with whom she made her
home.

Now, as the four sat there, discuss-
ing her case, she was asked many ques-
tions in regard to the statement she
had made Caleb King, that she was
not the daughter of those peofile, but
had been stolen by them, when eight
years of age. She answered according
to the best of her ability. ‘ A fever,”
she said, “brought on, probably, by
fright and homesickness, and during
which she was delirious for some time,
had attacked her after she was stolen
from her own parents; and when she

‘recovered, her memery of the past was
very much impaired. For a long time
she recalled nothing—not even her own
name—but gradually she had regained
many recollections of her former life.
For one thing, she remembered that
her own mother used to call her

 

The Outlus Brother

Bella aa Reabes {bough by no effort
could she recall her family name.

“ That woman names me Peggy, but
won’t you say Bella, when you speak
to me?” she asked, looking at good
Mrs. Claiborne in such a way that her
eyes filled with tears.

““ Yes, yes, honey, you shall be call-
ed what you like, here.”

From the few fragments to which
the lost girl still clung, her new friends
came to the conclusion that the Harpes,
as many as eight years ago, were en-
gaged in their present unlawful pur-
suits, and that her parents had fallen
victims to their murderous propensi-
ties. That. these parents were proba-
bly educated people, with money, per-
haps living in some isolated Virginia
country home—but what the purpose
of the murderers had been, in carrying
off the child, could not be conjectured.
It may have been that the bright face
of the little gir_—which could not have
been otherwise than pretty and attrac-
tive—had touched a fountain of mercy,
and unsealed it, in the black depths of
one or both their hearts, filling them
with a fancy to adopt her. Wretches,
so isolated from humanity as they, have
been known to exhibit some such in-
congruous glimpse of feeling.

Caleb also gave a brief account of
their four days’ flight—or, rather, four
nights’ flight, for they had remained
voncealed in the houses of friendly set-
tlers three of those days, keeping their
horses strictly out of sight in some
clump of underbrush, or little bush-hid-
den dell, so that if the Harpes came
about the cabins, they would get no
trace of the fugitives. The last day,
being in a more thickly populated
country—though still wild enough—
and on a road which King knew per-
fectly, they had ventured to ride by
sunlight, keeping sharp watch all the
time.

 

 

 
 

 

A Place of Refuge.

“T have brought her to you,” Caleb
concluded, “because you are my friends
—the-best I have in this part of the
country, and I know Mrs. Claiborne’s
goodness of heart. I believe you'll take
my little girl, here, into your family,
and do all you can to keep her from
those fiends, until my business is finish-
ed in Kentucky. We are now two
hundred miles from the place where
she forsook the Harpes; then, too, you
live so near the village, that they will
hardly come about your place, and if
Bella”—with a smile at the girl—
“changes name.and dress, and is very
cautious about going out, wearing a
vail when she does go, and you will
represent her as a young friend or rel-
ative staying with you, I believe she
will be tolerably safe here. I expect
to be four or five months in the State;
when I am ready to return to the East,
I think I will take her with me, for I
can not feel as if she would ever be
perfectly safe in this vicinity. I can
turn her over to my mother, or some
other good lady, who will see that she
is put in the way of taking care of her-
self. She can learn shirt-making, or
bonnet-trimming, or any‘other feminine
art she pleases.”

So said the young man, but it is
doubtful if those four days with a beau-
tiful girl, who looked up to him as her
savior and protector, had not already
put thoughts in his head of a different
destiny for Bella than that of millinery.
Perhaps he,did not know, himself; for,
graceful and handsome as she was, with
a spirit of haughty independence min-
gling with feminine timidity, she was,
of course, deficient in all proper accom-
plishments which would fit her to be
the wife or adopted sister of a man like
himself. Still—she was so picturesque,
so interesting by her very singularity!
He was convinced, too, that she was
of good blood. Not only did every

 

19

clearly-cut feature proclaim it, the del-
icacy of her feet and hands, and the
fineness of her hair, but there was that

_in her bearing which no degradation

could humiliate—a spiritywhich had
doubtless evoked, on her unhappy head,
many hard words, if not blows, from
the virago who desecrated to her the
name of mother.

‘**Pears to me, it wouldn’t be exact-
ly proper for you to be her only escort,
on such a long journey,” said the mat-
ron, with a smile.

“Well, I never thought of that—I
was only thinking of the poor child’s
safety,” and the young man looked per-
plexed at this dilemma — “indeed,
ma’am, since the night-and-day jotrney
we have just taken together, it seems
as if she belonged to me, as much as
my own sister. But we'll not trouble
our heads about that, now. It may be
that you, Mrs. Claiborne, will consent
to take that trip to your old home at
the East, which you was telling me yon
was so anxious about. In that case, I
might have the privilege of escorting
both of you. Now, my trouble is, to
keep her from falling again into those
terrible hands.” -

“She shall be guarded: every hour,
like gold,” said the squire, heartily.

“Thank you—I knew you would say
so. Our first step must be to get rid
of that horse which she rode. It be-
longs to the Harpes, and if it was seen
by them, it would, of course, lead them
directly to their prey.”

* But how to get rid of it? Shall we
kill it, and bury it ?”

“What would you say to Brutus’
taking him,,. post-haste, across the Ohio
river, and selling him to some Ohio
traveler? It’s a pity to kill so fine an
animal.”

“He might do that. He’s brave,
and wouldn’t be afeard if we teld him
all about what’s up.”

 
 

 

20 The Outlaw Brothers.

“J think hehad better be told the
whole affair, squire. Brutus is a sharp
fellow; we could not set any better
guard over Miss Bella, than him. If
- you should charge him to keep an eye
on prowlers, and to make her safety
his special business, I don’t believe
even the Harpes could get. too close to
her. None of the other servants need
know any thing about her history—the
fewer who are trusted with it. the bet-
ter. But Brutus must be appointed
her body-guard.”

“ Jes’ so,” said the squire.
right.”

“ And now let’s give the poor dear
a chance to rest herself,” said the mat-
ron, ‘Tising ; and soon the household
was at rest.

The next morning Caleb King called
Brutus into the front yard, away from
alllisteners, and gave him a brief sketch
of Miss Bella, and of the post of pro-
tector assigned tohim. The negro was
absorbed in the story from the first;
but as the young man proceeded down
to the point of giving Peggy’s real first
name, and one or two little things
which she remembered, a strange ex-
citement seized upon the sable attend-
ant. The whites of his eyes began to
roll, he stood on one foot, then the
other, started to run toward the house,
and came back again, until his agita-
tion became so funny and so apparent,
that King stopped and asked him what
was the matter.

“Oh, sah! ’scuse me, sah. My head
is done turned upside down. I didn’t
rest berry well, last night; and I’s sort
o’ giddy-like. Poor little babby! I
’spects her folks was murdered, sure
nuff. Trus’ ole Brutus for to take care
o’ her. They shan’t hurt a ha’r of her
head. Tl sleep wid one eye open,
Massa King; won’t cotch dis weasel
asleep, no sah! Youcantrus’ dat young
lady to me with perfeck compunity.”

“ Ye’re

“You won’t regret any trouble that
you may take on her account,” con-
tinued Caleb, drawing forth a half-eagle
fron: his pocket; but Brutus made a
gesture of disdain, and would not touch
the glittering bribe.

“Don? want no pay for waitin’ on
her, massa. But wouldn’t yer jis’ let
me go and take a good look at her?
So’s I know her, when I come to see
her, yer see !”—he explained—and with-
out waiting for an answer, he dashed
frantically up to the house and disap-
peared within. The young man fol-
lowed, surprised and amused at the
half-erazy manner of the negro, and
reached the keeping-room a, little be-
hind. Brutus, where Bella (as by her re-

‘quest they now began to call her) was

holding some yarn for Mrs. Claiborne
to wind. The servant.dashed into the
room with a want. of ceremony quite
different from his usual studied polite-
ness, stopped short, gazed on the girl
a moment with open mouth, and snd-
denly fell on his knees, with outstretch-
ed hands.
began rubbing his knees as if the kneel-
ing position had béen injurious to him,

-His mistress regarded him with aston-

ishment, while her young companion,
struck with the ludicrous movements.
of the old fellow, burst out laughing.

“Dar, dar, I sed so!” cried Brutus,
stopping and gazing straight at her
again, “I sed so, and now I’s proved
it 1? :

“What did you say, and what have
you proved?” asked King. The ques-
tion seemed to partially recall him to
the figure he was making; he retreated
toward the door, put on his usual defer-
ential manner in Mrs, Claiborne’s pres-
ence, pulled his wool, and with a sort
of quick slyness, answered:

* Didn’ ’no’ what I was a sayin’,
massa. I’s has de headache bad, dis
mornin’ ; ’scuse me, missus, but I was

Then he jumped up and.

 

)
!
.

 

 
 

 

 

Bella and her Guardian 21

so upsot heerin’ sich an incredulous
story dat I mos’ forget to’ behabe my-
self—dat’s a fac’. Laugh away, Missa
Bella, at ole Higpetithhe lub.to heer
young folks laugh —soun’s like ole
times—w’en I use to lib in ole Virginny.
On dis one ting you may reckon, for a
dead sure, and dat is—dar shan’t no-
body hurt you wile Brutus is around!”
And with this comforting assurance he
backed out of the room which he had
so unceremoniously entered.

“What an odd person,” cried the
young girl.

“He'll be a good friend of yours, I
feel certain,” replied Mrs. Claiborne.
“We've had him now nearly eight
years, and we realize, every day, how
important his services‘are to us. He
can do any thing he is asked to—and
his judgment is excellent. The squire
trusts the whole farm to him when he
is away. He’s a great hunter, too—
almost @qual.to Old Hickory. His
great holiday is. when he has permis-
sion to put on his hunting-suit—a queer
rig which he has—and go off into the
woods to get a supply of venison and
wild-fowls, for family use. What’s the
matter with him this morning I can’t
guess. Maybe he was out to meeting
last night, and got so excited that he
hasn’t settled down yet. I assure you,
Bella, if he takes you under his wing,
you'll be well cared for.”

“ Oh, Tlike him!” said she, laughing
again at the memory of his ridiculous
actions; “I’ve taken a great fancy to
him. I feel as if he and I were old
friends, a’ready. ‘I b’lieve I’ve seen
him somewhere before to-day, but I
don’t call to mind where.”

-©That’s only a notion of yours,”
said the matron. “ He hasn’t been over
twenty mile from here since we brought
him from old Virginny; and, of course,
you’ve never been in this part of the
country before.”

 

“Tm sure Pve seen him,” persisted
Bella—and then her dark eyes, meeting
those of Caleb, softened and drooped,
and she dropped the chain of memory
which linked her to the sable servant,
the broken links of which she had been
trying to put together.

That day Brutus started off with the
horse which had, -belonged to the
Harpes, conveyed him safely across the
Ohio, sold him to good advantage, and
returned With the proceeds, which were
devoted to fitting up such a wardrobe
for the fugitive girl as was suitable to
her present position.

After his return, Caleb went to
another part of the State, where busi-
ness called him. “In those daysya jour-
ney to the seaboard was a long and
arduous undertaking; and no plan
could be formed for sending Mrs. Clai-
borne and Bella forward, until King
was able to act as their éscort. All
that could be done was to use the ut-
most vigilance to prevent the Harpes
from getting possession of the fugitive ; :
and in his: Caleb trusted much to
Brutus, who expressed the utmost in-
terest, and a determination to guard
the young missus as he would the ap-
ple of his eye.

So she was left in the kind home of
the Claibornes, while the young man
went about his affairs. The summer
sped swiftly on; Caleb paid several
brief visits to the squire’s, and those
good people whispered and smiled to
each other upon the turn matters were
taking with the young couple.

During those many weeks Bella and
Brutus had become warm friends,
There was something peculiar in the
interest he took in her, and in return
for his faithful zeal in her behalf, she
felt for him the affection of a childish,
impulsive nature for one who is very
kind. She felt almost safe under his
eye ; though he, and others, knew that

 
.

22

a dread like a hateful nightmare, hung
over her young life; her cheek would
blanch, and she would start and trem-
ble at an unexpected sound.

Bella had many long talks with her
colored servitor—she liked to hear his
gossip about the good times past in
“ole Virginny;’ and often he asked
her questions about her own childhood,
before her parents were murdered,
putting them in such a way as greatly
to assist her memory—so that, before
the summer was over, she was quite
certain that she should know her old
home, if she ever saw it, and even be-
gan to tell him incidents of her infancy.
If any one more experienced than this
wild girl had overheard their conver-
sation, they would have known that
Brutus had some special object in lead-
ing her mind back to those days; and
it would not. be difficult for them to
conjecture that he knew more about
her and her past history than she did
herself. But he was careful not to be-
tray this before others. He'tried hard
to make her remember her family name,
but she could not recall it, though she
mused upon it many a time, until her
head and heart ached. Finally, one
day she came to him, her cheeks ted
and her face lighted up with exulta-
tion,

“ Brutus, I know, now, whatmy name
used to be.”

_“ How do you know, missa?”
looked at her eagerly.

“Tt came to me, last night, in my
sleep.”

“ What do you t’ink it is, honey ?”

“J don’t think—I know! It’s Moul-
trie. My father’s name was Jefferson
Moultrie; and I’m going to tell Mr.
King so, next time I see him.”

“T wouldn’t tell him jist yit,” said
Brutus, earnestly.‘ Don’ tell him till
I tell yer to, Missa Bella, don’t! I’s
got good reasons for it,

He

But I’s mighty

The Outlaw Brothers.

glad yer recollected it—oh, Lordy, yis !
Moultrie’s a right respectable name,
honey—and we'll hev’ it looked to.
But, mind ole Brutus, now—yer wait
a little while.”

‘She was rather reluctant to promise,
but did so, finally.

And now, it will not be hard for the
reader to guess who were the charac-
ters introduced in the first chapter,
although Galeb therein was masquo-
raded a little, as he was fond of doing,
when he got in acompany of inquisitive
strangers—nor will it be difficult to
conjecture that the ever-feared, care-
fully-guarded-against calamity had at
last taken place.

UTA? Tha Ts
THoled.

Cates Kine, (alias Smith,) Brutus,
and the hunter, running down the road
in the rain and darkness, paused simul-
taneously. It was the swift clatter of
horses’ hoofs, receding in the distance,
which thus brought them to a stand-
still.

* Oh, Lord, we shall nebber cotch
em now,” groaned the negro.

“No, they have mounted and ridden
off with her;” and Caleb gave a groan
of despair. Oh, Brutus, did you not
promise me to watch her ?”

“JT hab watch her, Massa King—
you know dat—night and day. She
nebber sot foot outside dat door, ’cept
when I was clust arter her heels.
Don’t go for to blame me!”

“ Well, well! don’t stop, evem to
tell me how it happened. Run to the
stable of the tavern, and bring me my
horse—run, boy, do you hear ?”

The negro was off before the com-
mand was finished.

“ What good ’ll that do?” asked the
hunter, with a deliberation which chilled

 
 

Lost Again. g

the young man’s hopes still more—
“they will be out ’o sight or hearin’
‘ long afore you can overtake ’em. And
on such a night as this, what can you
do? *Tain’t likely they’ll keep in the
right road; and if they did, and heerd
you after ’em, they could dodge you
easy.”

““T know it,” was the desponding
reply.

“ Jes’ tell a friend what’s up, won’t
yer? IfIcan help you,I will. But
what in creation all this rumpus means
is more’n I can guess. Old Hickory
is put to his stumps. Here you are,
racing out in the rain, with the devil
himself for a friend, and a woman a
hollerin’ and yellin’, and two men run-
nin’ after her—it beats me to make
head or tail of it. I’m rather partike-
lar about the company I keep, and the
fust thing I want settled before I offer
my company, is, whether that’s the old
feller himself?” meaning Brutus.

If Caleb had not been so troubled in
his mind .he would have enjoyed the
hunter’s perturbation about Brutus.

° 2. ae
As it was, he could not be otherwise

than serious; he answered, plainly :
“You know Squire Claiborne?

Well, that’s his colored boy, who cares

for his horses and drives for him. He’s

a very peculiar ‘nigger’ at all times;,

and to night he’s fixed himself up in
this style for some purpose, I expect.”

“ Jes’ as we hunters fix ourselves to
fool the deer,” interposed Hickory.
“T see now.
somethin’, and he’s dressed himself to
suit.”

“T was going to the squire’s—ex-
pected to reach there to-night; but it
rained so very hard, I coneluded to
stop at Coon’s till daylight—it’s only
about three miles further to the
squire’s. What has happened, I can
easily guess—and if I thought you
could assist me, I'd tell youall about it.”

.

He’s out on the trail of

by
“

“I’m willin’ to lend a hand, if it’s
‘any thing in my line.”

* You know the country better than
any other man in the State, ’ve been
told.”

“So they say.”

“Well, I hope, then, that you can
help me. You have heard of the Har-
pes ?”

** Heard of ’em !” exclaimed the hun-
ter, With an oath. “Who hain’t heard
of them infernal demons. I1’d consider

‘it the biggest hunt I ever made, if I

could unearth them wild beasts. It
works on my mind, to think I hain’¢
trapped ’em yet.”

‘Those men who have just escaped
us are the Harpes!”*'

“'Thunder—and blazes !””

“And they have stolen a young wo-
man who was visiting at the Clai-
borne’s. She was the daughter of
some persons whom they murdered,
and carried off and adopted the child
—but she never liked to live with
them, and finally suéceeded in getting
away from them. The Claibornes
were hiding and protecting her. Vil
tell yon her story some time. Id give
all I’m worth to get her safely out of
their hands—for I’m afraid they will
either kill her, or torment her in some
manner, to punish her for runing
away. Besides, if they once get fairly
away with her, we'll never get trace
of her again.”

If it had not been dark, the young
man might have noticed the hunter
scratching his head vigorously, with a
reflective: look, as if trying to waken
a sleeping idea.

“Oh, Brutus, why do you not make |
haste?” again cried Caleb. 2

“See here, stranger, what’s yer
name? Smith, I b’lieve. Youneedn’t—”

“My name is not Smith—it’s King
—I said that for a joke on the fellow
who asked me so many questions,”
  

a4

 

said poor Caleb, in remorse for having
played tricks on those whom he might
now need for friends. “I always say
my name is Smith when any one asks
who has no right. Call me King,
friend.”

“Wal, Mr. King, I’ve a notion I
ean help you a little.”

“In what way ?” was eagerly asked,

* Mind, I don’t say I Ain—I only
say I’ve a notion I Kin. So you
mus’n’t be disapp’inted if I make a
mistake—”

“ Oh, why doesn’t he come with that
horse!” interposed Caleb.

“And if I should be right in my
guess,” proceeded the hunter, “ thar’s
no need of yer bein’ in sech a terrible
hurry. Now, mind, I say I ain’t sure,
but I delieve I kin show ye whar’ them
devils has their den at -present, and
whar’ they'll take the girl.”

Caleb made a dodge in the dark to
seize his new friend’s hand, in a sud-
den burst of hope and gratitude :

‘“‘ Where ? where ?” ’

“Well, I reckon it’s nigh on to about
ten miles from here. I’m nowise sar-
tain twas them I saw, about two o’clock
this arternoon, but I’ve my reasons for
thinkin’ ’twas. And if ’twas .them,
they’ll put up thar’ to-night—cause it’s
too stormy for manor beast to be
abroad; and we can reach the spot
afore daylight.”

Brutus now came up with King’s
horse and another which he had taken
without permission from the stable—
the emergency justifying the liberty,
in his opinion. He breathed hard
with the haste of his expedition.

“What reason have you for think-
ang you saw the Harpes ?”

*“« A good deal of reason, come to put
it all together. I was comin’ in from
the hunt, with the rest you saw there
to the tavern. We was in a wild sort

of a place, full ten miles from hyer,

%: The Outlaw. Brothers.

trudgin’ for Coon’s, as we saw the
storm comin’; I was quite a piece ahead
of the others, when I thought I heerd
an animal trampin’ and snuffin’ some
ways off, towards a desput wild holler
which I knew lay to the right. It was
a ravine, with rocks risin’ up on t’other
side—a place I knew well, and had
been through often, though none of my
friends knew about it. J’d killed two
b’ars in that ravine the winter afore,
and as I heerd the critter movin’, I
thought it mought be another b’ar, so
I jist moved softly towards it, to dis-
kiver. I wanted the glory of killin’
the b’ar without help; sol didn’t wait
for tothers, but crept along about a
hundred yards till I come to a spot
where I could peep into the holler, and
there I saw, instid of my b’ar, a couple
o’ tame horses, tethered with ropes,
and with thur saddles on, quietly gra-
zin’. I thought, at the time, it was
mighty queer, and I was mad, for two
reasons: one at not findin’ a b’ar, and
tother bekase I was afraid somebody

had diskivered my house, as I call it.

Yer see, under them rock thur’s an
openin’ into as purty a cave as ever ye

‘sot eyes on—dry an’ high, with a nat-

’ral sort of a chimney, where a person:
can have a fire. I’ve staid in it more’n
one night. I’ve often used it for 'a
storehouse ; by puttin’ up a timber or
two against the entrance, to keep out
wild animals, I could keep my skins
and blankets and things in thar’, when
I was out on a trappin’ frolic. Wal,
when I see’d the horses I made up my
mind somebody was prowlin’ around
and makin’ head-quarters in the cave.
I couldn’t decide whether it was In-
juns, racin’ down here on a stealin’
expedition, or some o’ them counter-
feiters as has been chased pretty lively
lately. It wur a-beginning to rain
pretty smart, by that time, so I made
up my mind I’d say nothin’ to the boys

é

 

 

 
 

 

Old Hick’s Advice. 25

to-night, but ’arly in the mornin’ we'd
make up a party, and inquire into the
matter. I never thought of ‘them
Harpes! Blast ’em, if I had, we’d a’
had thur skins afore this, for thar’ was
six of us, and we'd a’ quickly smoked
’em out o’ thur hole.”

“ But do you really think they’ll go
back there? Won’t they ride all night,
and be far away before we begin our
pursuit ?”’

“JT reckon they won’t, stranger.
They wouldn’t be cute if they did.
They know very well the whole coun-
try’d be roused in the mornin’, men
closin’ in all directions, runnin’ fifty and
a hundred miles arter ’em—while here
they’ll be, right under our noses, safe
and sound. If I hadn’t happened to
see their horses this arternoon, [ll bet
they mought stay thar’ six months
without bein’ tracked. They sartainly
won’t stir out o’ that afore to-morrow
night, and I doubt if they do then.
They’ve probably got things fixed for
a comfortable stay.”

“Well?” asked Caleb, groaning with
impatience, as he thought of the girl’s
fright and danger, in that lonely place
with those terrible men.

“You don’t s’pose the gal’s in any
partik’ler immejit danger ?” asked Old
Hick, seeing his distress of mind.

“JT don’t know. She says the men
have always treated her kindly, espe-
cially the one who calls, himself her
father; but their anger at her escape,
and the trouble they have had in find-
ing her, may exasperate them into mur-
dering her. Why they have ever
shown any more mercy to her than to
the other helpless creatures who have
fallen into their hands, is a mystery.”

“°Tain’t no mystery to dis pusson,”
muttered Brutus to himself. “T knows
what der arter—no mistake "bout dat.”

“Tain’t likely they'll kill her if
they’ve had an object in keepin’ her 80

\
many years,” remarked the hunter.

“But, whatever’s up, it’s safest and
best to wait afew hourg, since we know.
whar’ they’ll bring up. Yer see, if we
track ’erh too close, we run the resk 0’
bein’ shot down in the dark without
doin’ her no good; while, if we wait
till they’s housed, and paps sound
asleep, we can bag’ ’em without no
trouble. Another thing in favor of
takin’ it cool: I reckon the rain will
quit off a little after midnight, when
the moon rises; it would be unpossi-
ble to find our way in’ this darkness,
and to carry a light would be to
expose ourselves and kiver them.
We must get a good ready, and set
out about two o’clock, by the light of
the moon. Ill do mighty well, then,
if I keep the track, for I tell ye, thar’
ain’t a wilder spot in Kentuck than
that same holler, and the path that
leads to it.”

“ Better adjourn, den, to de square’s.
He'll be mighty oneasy when he finds
me and Miss Bella missin’; didn’ have
time to stop in de house und tell ’em
what had happened. Oh, my! Oh,
Lordy! To tink I should set myself
round about dat young lady like a ring
of glory or a hedge-fence, fur to pur-
tect her, and keep dem painters ’way
all summer, jest to spring on dat poor
lamb, and carry her off afore my eyes,
at last, in de whisk of a pig’s tail!
Oh, Lordy, it’s too bad !”

The old servant’s distress was too
great for Caleb to add to it by re-
proaches; even if there had been any
cause for reproach, which he had no
reason to think. He knew that the
cunning of those diabolical men was
more than a match for the utmost pru-
dence; and he blamed himself—only
himself—that he had left that helpless
young girl so long exposed to the dan-
gers of her situation. Why had he
not dropped all his business interests,
  

26

 

and conveyed her to a place of safety?
It was what he should have done.
How paltry now appeared every other
consideration beside that of her wel-
fare! é

Ah, Caleb King had not made those
five or six visits to the squire’s with-
out becoming more ‘and rhore deeply
involved in the cause of the beautiful
orphan. It is dangerous to the gener-
ous and sensitive heart to extend pro-
tection to youth and beauty. The
mere fact that Bella regarded him with
such gratitude, and had such faith in
his promise to-protect her, was enough
of itself to make him think tenderly
of her. The bright blush which sprung
to her cheek when they met, the flutter
of her heart, the trembling of her hand,
the soft light of the full, dark eye, had
already done their magic work upon
his heart. Yet he did not know it—
he scarcely suspected it,now. He only
felt that his soul was weary with in-
tolerable suspense.

“Yes, it will be best to go to the
‘squire’s in the mean time,” he said,
“ unless it takes us too far away.”

“Tt’s to the: south, ain’t it, Squire
Claiborne’s? Then it’s out of our way;
but I think thar’s a cross-cut from there,

twill bring us. out nigh to the p’int
where we leave the main road. We
may as well stop there-as anywhere.”

“ But how about getting more help
from the town?” asked Caleb.

“Three to two’s enough, if thur
trusty,” said the hunter, curtly. ‘“ Are
you sure with the rifle, my colored
friend ?”

“J dunno any man, ’ceptin’ Old Hick,
that I'd guv up to.”

“Yes, Brutus is better: than two
ordinary fellows,” continued Caleb;
“strong asia lion, cool, and familiar
with the rifle.” ;

“Then we don’t want more company.
It’s my experience that enough’s better

The Outlaw Brothers.

than too much. Silence and cunning
is what traps the game. Lead on,
stranger, to the squire’s.”

* And you, Brutus, put that borrow-
ed horse back in the stable.”

As they passed the tavern, Brutus
returned the horse, and the three men
walked rapidly forward in the rain,
leading Caleb’s animal, which his mas-
ter would not mount, since the hunter
was on foot. It was not until they
were drying themselves in the great
kitchen of the house, with the squire’s
family gathered anxiously about, that
Caleb learned. the incidents touching
the kidnapping of the young woman.
Incidents they could hardly be called,
for there was but the meager fact that
Bella had been in the kitchen, after
supper, unusually bright and happy,
and wishing some cool water to drink,
had stepped outside to the well, which
was not four feet from the door, and
upon which the light from the kitchen
fell distinctly. “When she did not come
in again, the cook went to the door,
looked about, called, and thinking Miss
Bella had run round to the front door,
thought no more of.it, until her mistress
came out and asked for her; and then

“There were hurryings to and fro,”
The squire was summoned from his
comfortable seat in the keeping-room,
and great inquiries were made for
Brutus. When it was ascertained that
neither he nor Bella were anywhere
about the place, the alarm increased. |
The young girl had won herself too
warm a place in the childless hearts of
the good couple for them not to feel
the keenest dismay at the disaster.
The squire had pulled on his big boots, °
put on his overcoat, and, with his gun
and a lantern, accompanied by his ser-
vants and dogs, had stumped all over
the place—which, without Caleb, er
even Brutus, to advise him, was all he
could think to do—and had come in a

 

 

 
 

How to do it. | 27

few moments before our party, very
wet and tired, and very melancholy.
Brutus had now to add his mite of
information. He had seen Miss Bella
in the kitchen, when he went out, after
getting his supper. A few minutes
later, as he was in the stable, he thought
he heard the sound of feet running past,
but he would not have considered it,
if, a moment later, a muffled scream,
“clipped off,” as he said, “ right in the
middle, hadn’t brought it home to him,
like a streak of lightnin’, what it all
meant.” For an instant. he stood,
paralyzed by the suddenness of the
shock; then, with the lantern in his
hand, by the light of which he was
currying the horses, he rushed out, and
holding it up and turning it all around,
he saw two men making off with his
young missus through the cornfield.
He did not stop to give the alarm, for
they were already climbing the fence
into the woods on the other side, and
he was afraid he should lose them.
They had a good deal the start, when
he gave chase, yelling at the top of Kis
voice; but the storm made such a noise
that his shouts attracted no attention
at the house. Two or three times
they got entirely out of sight and hear-
ing, and again he would approach so
near that a ray of his lantern would
light on them as they ran, dragging
the girl between them. When he
found they were coming out into the
high-road, and would have to’ pass
Coon’s tavern, he thought he might
get help.

It was conjectured now, by her
friends, that when the poor child saw
the light streaming out of the tavern
window, inspired by hope, she had
made a frantic effort, by which she
freed herself from her persecutors, and
running to the window, she had en-
deavored to call attention to her situa-
tion, but that the men had immediately

reseized her, and hurried her off to the

spot where their horses were concealed.
There was no doubt, if the suspicions
of Old Hickory were correct, that the
brothers had been in the neighbor-
hood some time, concealing themselves
in the caye in the ravine, and coming
out in the evening; that they had tied
their horses at some spot so distant
as to attract no attention, and then had
prowled about the vicinity, seeking the
opportunity which had, at length, of-
fered. '

Good Mrs. Claiborne laughed hys-
terically when Old Hick assured. her
that there were good prospects, not only
of the young woman being rescued,
but of the Harpes being brought to
justice. The squire rubbed his rheu-
matic legs, and declared he should
make one of the party; but this the
hunter firmly opposed.. His idea, as
he had previously expressed it, was
silence, discretion, and skill; so that
the game might be quietly bagged, if
possible, without the loss of valuable
lives. The plan was to ride within a
couple of miles of the cave, then to dis-
mount, cautiously approach on foot,
and silently, by the first rays of dawn,
take up each man a concealed position,
commanding the mouth of the cave;
and, when the men came out, as they
would be sure to do, sooner or later, to
reconnoiter, and to attend to their
horses, ‘to shoot them down.

This plan required’ qualities which
the squire did not possess—patience,
endurance, and the ability to keep per-
fectly quiet. After position was once
taken up, there must not be the move-
ment of a hand, though they should be
compelled to wait for hours, for, un-
doubtedly, the villains had some loop-
hole through which to overlook the
ravine, and would never venture forth
without a cautious examination of the
vicinity. Therefore, as it would be

 
    

28

impossible to guess what moment their eyes
might be searching the hollow, it would be
necessary to make no movement which
might alarm them, until they saw fit to
come forth. Nor, if one at a time should
appear, would it be desirable to dispose of
him, even if they had to wait dreary and
uncomfortable hours ; for their object, above
all things, was to preserve the safety of the
young lady, and unless the Harpes were
both secured in such a manner as to prevent
the possibility of their wreaking revenge
upon her, there was great danger that they
would murder her out of pure malice, should
they find themselves at all likely to besnared.

After the matter had heen thoroughly
discussed in every possible light, Mrs. Clai-
borne went about providing for the physi-
cal conifort of the besieging party. As it
was probable that they would be kept
breakfastless, if not dinnerless, she prepared
a midnight luncheon of cold ham and pump-
kin pie, with a large bowl of hot negus—
which latter stimulant their exposure to the
storm had made a sanitary measure. As
the hunter sat by the fire, toasting his feet,
he kept his eyes upon Brutus, who remained
respectfully in the background. He was
making up his mind as to the exact worth
' of the new recruit. Caleb King he believed
to be fearless and prudent, if not deeply
skilled in border tactics; the manner in
which he had carried himself during the
story-telling and quarreling in Coon’s tay-
ern—where he had played a part for the
merc fun of it—proved this to the quick-
witted ranger. Apparently he became well
satisfied of the true character of Brutus—
that he was a fellow of exceeding sagacity,
and to be relied upon in any emergeney—
for he addressed him so very pleasant re-
marks, bidding him come closer to the fire,
so as to be thoroughly warmed and dried
for the exposure which was to follow.

“ He thinks a power o’ the gal, anyhow,”
thought Old Hickory, observing the restless-
ness of the negro, which would not permit
him to be still a moment, and the expres-
sion of dejection, mingled with determina-

»

The Outlaw Brothers.

tion, which made still darker his dark and
uncouth features. Indeed, the negro’s un-
easiness -was fully equal to the young land-
agent’s." Once, he muttered audibly, forgetful
of the ears about him:

“Oh, Lordy, I dunno but I oughter a’
told him all, at first! But she would a’
been no safer for dat, if I had,” he added—
then, conscious that he had spoken aloud,
he cast a curious look at Caleb, who was
gazing at him in astonishmient.

“Tf you’ve any thing to tell, Brutus, that
will help us in this emergency, speak out,”
he said, sternly.

“Deed, Massa King, I don’t know nuf-
fin’ as will help us in dis missionary. . If I
did I shouldn’t keep it back, yer better
b’lieve. I was only a wishin’ ’'d a~done
suthin’ I didn’t.”

Seeing that he did not like to be ques-
tioned, and having so much confidence in
him, Caleb made no further inquiries.

As the hunter had predicted, shortly after
the rising of the moon, the heavy pall which
stretched from one side of the heavens to
the other was lifted, and a faint light began
to glimmer through. The three adven-
turers, after carefully examining their rifles
and knives—the former having been in dan-
ger of injury from the rain—mounted the
horses which were prepared for them, and
with the earnest prayers of Mrs. Claiborne
for their safety and success, took the little
by-roa@ which led off through the woods in
the direction of the murderers’ haunt.

They had not much more than left the
path, and taken to apparently trackless
depths of forests, when the moon broke
forth in renewed splendor, casting a fantas-
tic and rather unreliable glimmer through’
the rain-laden birches, which, uncertain and
wavering as it was, materially assisted them
to keep in the way. Caleb King thought.
of that other night, upon which he had fled -
with the maiden from the defmons who
again had her in their power. It seemed
along time to look back to, although it
was little.over four months; but in ‘these
four months, the girl, who was then to him

 

 
 

The Position.

but a beautiful.and interesting stranger, had
become to him dear as a sister—ay, dearer 1

The air was cold, and felt still chillier
the
The hardy ranger thought

from contrast with the warmth of
' gquire’s kitchen.
nothing of it, but Caleb, who was sensitive
to the weather, felt his hopes sink with the
temperature. After about two hours’ care-
ful picking of the way through the wild
chiaroscuro of the moonlit forest, Old Hick-
ory drew rein, and whispered to the others
to dismount. In a moment, Caleb’s feet
and hands, which
with
leaped to the trial; it seemed to him then,

as if all things were possible.

had been cold, were

burning © excitement ; -his courage

“We've gut a good two mile to foot it,”
whispered the leader, “ but I don’t want these
pesky brutes no nearer. They'd be sure to
make a noise. We'll hitch ’em here and go
forward.”

The horses were tied; and the men pro-
ceeded through a wilderness so dense, and
overrun with bushes, that it seemed impossi-
ble to force a passage. However, the hun-
ter, either through much sagacity, or through
familiarity with the place, always contrived
to find an accessible path through which
to creep forward; and, after a slow journey
of another hour, they approached the ra-
vine, into which they now entered with re-
doubled caution.
ents which he would have used had he
been on the track of Indians, Old Hickory
led the van, creeping from bush to bush,
sliding from tree to tree, until, in perféct si-

With.the same expedi-

lence, he had reached aspot distant about
twenty yards from the mouth of the cavern,
‘and from which he could bear full upon it
with his rifle.

There was no doubt but that the Harpes
had returned to this den, for’ he observed,
with joy, the same horses he had discovered

on the preyious day, lying in an open patch’

not far away. This fact he communicated
in a whidber to his companions, whom he
placed on either side of him, and about ten
feet from him, behind thick clumps of bush-
es, which were adntirable as completely

29

concealing them, yet giving them full op-
portunity to reconnoiter the mouth of the
caye, between the branches. He pointed
out to them the exact place in the rock,
where the entrance, partially hidden by”
overhanging rocks and bushes, was to be
found, directing them to rest their rifles in
such a manner as to be in range, and yet sc
He then took
up a position midway between .the two,
where a fallen tree, by the side of which
grew up some tall, rank grass, gave him not
only a perféct concealment, but enabled him
to move a few feet either way, so as to com-

as not to weary themselves,

municate with his aids as occasion required.
It now began to grow quite light. Neyer
did it seem so long between the first. gray
ray of dawn and the final uprolling of the
sun, as it did, that morning, to Caleb. Yet
after the sun was risen, the time went even
more slowly, to his intense, excited wish.
If expectation of the most vivid kind had
not held them spellbound,. their position
would have been inexpressibly tedious, com-
pelled to watch and wait so long in motion-
less silence.
The black
knelt, like an ebony statue, as patient as if
there was no life in him; Caleb had begun
to find the restraint intolerable.

The sun was two hours high.

Earnestly
as he had been warned, he was about to at-
tempt to creep over toward the hunter,
when, of a sudden, his heart leaped and fell
—stood still, and bounded again. He saw
a moss-grown log, which lay before the
cave, slowly pushed aside, and a man, in
a stooping posture, coming through, and +
standing, finally, erect, outside the retreat,
look all about him, as if with the caution
of habit. Involuntarily his finger pressed
the lock, for the fellow’s breast way in full
range, but he remembered the, counsel: of
the rauger not to shoot until both the broth-
This, then,
was one of the Harpes !—one of those mon-

ers appeared, and refrained.

sters, so much worse than wild beasts, as
man’s ingenuity enables him to accomplish
more cruelty, The morning sun shone full
on him, as he stood there, a large, spare |
  

30

 

man, dressed in the leather breeches and
Caleb
shuddered as the man’s small and deep-set
eyes turned hither and thither with a crafty
His large mouth showed

flannel “ warmus” of the foresters.

and cautious look.
his long teeth, glistening like those of a
wolf, and giving to all his other features an
expression of beast-like ferocity. Oh, to
think that Bella was in the power of that
creature! Caleb breathed hard, setting his
own teeth firmly together, as if, in imagina-
The

man, after standing two minutes looking

tion, he ground his enemy to powder.

about him, gave a hitch to his breeches,
and started to look after the horses, which
were quietly cropping the grass, tied, as he
had left them.

He had-not gone a dozen steps when he
paused, looked in the direction of the hid-
den foe, began to whistle carelessly, but at
the same time to retreat, and was soon back
in the cave.

As soon as he had disappeared, the ran-
ger began to crawl toward Caleb, along the
line of the fallen tree, until he came within
whispering distance. !

“King, draw in your rifle a little—so,
very keerful. I mistrust that feller saw
suthin’ suspicious. In fact, I’m e’ena’most
sartain of it, from the way he backed down.
He was mighty cool about it—whistlin’
and takin’ it easy—but I’m afraid he saw
something. Most likely the sun may have
struck on the muzzle or lock of yer rifle,
and he see’d it shine. If so, it'll be some
time afore we see ’em out ag’in, and all our
“hopes of takin’ ’em by surprise is over.”

“Oh, dear, ’'m confounded tired,” whis-
pered Caleb.

when I had a chance.”

“T wish I’d shot the villain

Why.! Ta
_lay low for a b’ar longer’n this, and not tucker
out—and here you ar’, with a pretty gal—”

“That's just it! It ‘kills me to bear the
suspense.”

“ Never say die, young man.

“Wal, now, you keep very cool and very
still, and very sharp watch. Ef they’re con-
vinced they’re watched, they’ll be purty
sure to dash out.”

The Outlaw Brothers.

“ Are you certain there is no back exit
4o that infernal. cave?” asked Caleb. “It
would be a pretty joke to stay here like
three fools, while they make off in some
other direction.”

“A cat couldn’t get out o’ that cave, ex-
cept by the way they went in. I know it,
allover. They might, p’raps, crawl through
the hole I use for a chimney, but that comes
out jist atop o’ that rock, and you kin keep
your eye on it. They’d be wuss off, to
come out thar’, than by the nat’ral entrance
—kase it's further from their horses, and
it’s just as exposed.” The hunter turned
to crawl back to his place, remarking:
“Keep yer eyes skinned, young man—lI
can’t abide to lose the game, after it’s fairly

holed.”

CHAPTER VL
Old Hickory’s Strategy.

_ANoTHER long and weary watch now be-
gan. Hunger, thirst, but most of all, impa-
The
sun mounted higher and higher, until it

tience, tormented the besieging trio.

stood at its meridian.

The ranger was thoroughly convinced
that the ‘man who came out in the morning
had seen some cause for suspicion, or they
certainly would have been out again, to at-
tend to their animals, if not to procure food
for themselves. It now became his fear
that they would remain in the cave until
evening, and then effect their escape—which
he would have no power to prevent, unless
it were by the three closing up around the
mouth of the eavern, so close as to be aware
of the slightest movement, and thus to grasp
their prey in the dark,

He now regretted that he had not brought
a larger force with him, the idea having
struck him that if he could leaves sufficient
force in the front, he himself might creep,
by a wide circuit, quite to the bgse of the
rocks, crawl along to a position over the

chimney of the cave, through which, come
to think well of .it, he. might take aim at
one of the skulkers, and thus drive fhe

 

 

 
 

A Shot in the Shoulder.

other to fight by the door, where he could
He thought of this so
favorably that at last he crept to Brutus,
and laid the plan before him; asking him

be easily shot down.

if he and King would be certain to do jus-
tice to the rascal in front, or to both, if they
should suddenly emerge, while he was mak-
ing his way to the rear. The negro’s face
glistened with satisfaction at the proposition ;
he was getting tired and uneasy—and
change seemed desirable.

Old Hickory then proceeded toward Ca-
seb, and made his intention known to him,
after which he began to back out carefully
down the little hillock, across the top of
which they were ranged.

Hardly had he taken two paces back-
ward when a little flash of fire and wreath
of blue smoke suddenly burst from the en-
trance of the cave, and, simultaneously with
the report of a gun, Caleb clapped his hand
to his shoulder, and gave a slight shudder,
but no sound.

The next instant all was silence—not a
person was to be seem—one of the men in
the cave had evidently fired from under
shelter at the bush which had alarmed him,
to ascertain whether his suspicions were
correct or not. That was the moment
which proved Caleb King, if not- as much
of a woodsman, as much of a hero, as the
ranger. He seemed to know by intuition
what was intended, and, although severely
wounded, never stirred or moaned, after
that first clapping of his hand to the wound.

“That's glorious!” whispered Old Hick-
ory, fired by his conduct into enthusiasm.
We'll
7em !

“Don’t stir! keep quiet if you kin!
Yes! we'll

When they find that nothin’ moves, they’ll

have ’em now. have
purty soon, and thev’s still
But I hope
yer ain’t seriously hurt, young man.”

“I'm bleeding pretty fast, ’m afraid,”
murmured Caleb, but he kept on his knees,
although growing very white.

Presently he sunk a little forward, but

ventur’ out
two of us, which is enough.

not enough to stir the bushes, and the ran-
ger saw that he had fainted.

'

$1

“T can’t reach him to stop the bleedin’
without thur diskiverin’ thar’s somethin’ in
the wind. Ifhedies I can’t help-it,” mut-
tered he, gritting his teeth; “itll be one
their account—but ef I
afore dark this day, Old
up that he ain’t wuth a
b’arskin any longer.”

more murder to
don’t wipe it out
Hickory °ll give

Here he noticed the negro, who was ter-
ribly excited, fairly writhing upon his knees
in the anxiety he felt about the young mas-
ter; but at a motion from the hunter, he
forced himself into his old quietude, and
fixed his glaring eyes upon the den with an
expression which boded ill for its inmates.

Fifteen minutes, which seemed at least
twice that length of time, crept on, and the
patience of the besiegers was about to be
rewarded, for already they saw a hand, con-
taining a rifle, stretch out from the cave,
when, at that moment, Caleb, reviving from
his swoon, but totally unconscious of where

he was or what he was doing

g, staggered to

his feet, and fell down again. The besieg-
ed evidently saw him, for the arm was
quickly drawn in—as quickly did the ran-
ger jerk the young man out of the bushes,
behind the safer barricade of the” fallen
tree. He then motioned to Brutus also to
come into the shelter of the log, who did so.
One great advantage remained to the out-
siders, which was, that the enemy being ig-
norant of their position and numbers, would
not know how to conduct an attack; but
then, the besieged had this advantage—one
man could defend their stronghold against
a hundred, if he had some one to load guns
for him; or even, for that matter, with a
knife,

For a short time, while Brutus held
watch of the cave, Old Hickory busied him-
self attending to King, who sadly needed
some assistance. Tearing the shirt from
his wounded shoulder, he bandaged the
wound as well as he was able, stopping
the bleeding with lint hastily scraped from
the victim’s cambric handkerchief. Then
he poured a little whisky from his canteen
down the patient’s throat, and left him to

 
  

32

 

rest and recover himself as best he might
on the grass. Brutus, with one eye pityingly
bent on his young master, and one sternly
on the stronghold of the engmy, was a pic-
ture worth seeing. The day was a fine one,
calm and bright as the preceding evening
had been stormy. The ranger only wished
there had been a “ right smart breeze” to
coyer some of the movements he wished to
make—but not a leaf stirred; the sun was
already beginning to decline.

“See hyer, I can’t stand this no longer.
I’m going to get a peep at ’em from the
chimney—they won't show their heads
ag’in, now, be sure—they’ll. wait till dark.
You've got two rifles, darkey, and I reckon
you'll know how to use ’em in case them
rascals shows afore I get back.”

“Don’t need to tell dis chile what to do
with ’em weepings, ifhe only cotch de chance.
Oh, Lordy, if dey would ‘only come out.”

“But they won’t—they know better. If
they’ve got fodder, thar’s no reason why
they shouldn’t stay thar’ a week or a month
—and the whole country couldn’t get ’em
out—’cept by smokin’, which would be too
dangerous for the gal. Wal,look sharp now.”
~ The negro grunted an. assent, and the ran-
ger, slipping down into the long grass, where
a slight eminence shielded him from sight,
crawled along on his hands and knees, un-
til Brutus lost sight of him entirély. He
drew his own and his master’s weapons to
his hand, and turned himself to watch the
cavern. In the mean time King had par-
tially revived, and attempted to get into a
kneeling posture beside the servant, but the
pain.in his shoulder was so severe that he
sunk back again.

The negro was absorbed watching the en-
trance, while Caleb was too much taken up
with the intense anxiety of the present to
take heed of those last words, Moment
after moment glided away in suspense—
nothing was to be seen or heard, betokening
life in that little hollow, except the move-
ment of the tethered horses, as they nipped
the grass, in a circle about their stake, Af
ter tedious waiting, Brutus finally saw some-

‘

Lhe Outlaw Brothers.

thing stirring along the brow of the rock
which rose fifteen or eighteen feet above the
cave. The next moment, the tall form of
the ranger arose to its full hight, and he be-
gan to pick his way to a lower rock which he
had pointed out as containing the chimney,
or opening into the cave. .
The negro watched him with breathless
interest. Getting down on his hands and
knees, Old Hickory crept along the rock,
carrying his rifle carefully, until he seemed

‘ to have gained the desired spot, for he paus-

ed and began to bring his weapon to an aim.

“ Now’s the time,” thought Brutus, “ fur
me to wing ’em, as dey break cover,” and
he, too, brought his rifle so as to command
the door. :

Just’ then another little wreath of blue
smoke curled up owt of the chimney. Brutus
saw the smoke, but heard no noise, for the
thick walls of the cave shut in the “ crack” of
the rifle. The ranger jumped very suddenly
to his feet-—so suddenly, and with such a
queer gesture, that the negro, Whose sense
of the ridiculous was, at times, troublesome,
burst into a low, gurgling “ Hi! hi! hi!”

* Oh, golly, massa, I’s afeard it's all up
now with Ol Hickory. Dey’s done gone
and shoot at him tru de chimney.”

“ That's laughing matter, is it?”

“Yer oughter see him jump—reckon ye’d

larf, too, Massa King. Howsomeyer,. I

‘didn’t mean to lar®—I don’t feel a bit like

larfin’, only sometimes it jes’ takes me like
de wind catches a tree an’ shakes it, Oh,
Lordy, I never feel less like larfin’ in my
born days. He’s cuttin’ back, Massa King
—he’s cuttin’ back—so I guess he ain’t
sewerely used up, like you are.” *

Again poor Caleb tried to raise himself;
but the effort caused his wound to bleed
afresh, and presently he had swooned en-
tirely away again.

“Dis am abominable,” groaned Brutus,
witnessing the catastrophe, but not daring
to drop his rifle in this emergency. ‘ Mas-
sa King will die, sartain sure. Dis am de
mos’ misablum day ole Brutus eber knew,
yet—and he’s lived a good many.”

 

 

 
 

Baffled.

In a short time the ranger, who had dis-
appeared from the face of the cliff, was seen
wriggling through the grass'on his way
back to his first cover.

“Tt beats natur’ !” he broke forth as soon
as he came alongside the negro, “ how them
imps keep watch. They’ve been too quick
for us, so far. I expect, as I leaned forrad
to look down\the chimney, that I cast a
shadder, which they no sooner sees than
they up and fire at it, just to see what’s the
matter. ’Twas altogether the narrerest ¢s-
cape I’ve had lately. Do you see my cap?
The ball took the ha’r off, and a little off
my head, too, I reckon. Of course, thar’ is
no use comin’ at ’em in that direction, arter
this. Hallo! King’s gone off the handle
ag’in, has he! I tell you, now, that young
man will die, if he ain’t got out o’ this.”

“We can’t give up till we get de young
missus, sar.”

“Of course not. Who speaks of givin’
up? But suthin’s got to be done, and that
right quick. It’s three o'clock now, and
more. lI reckoned wrong for once in my
life, that I didn’t bring more help. Yer
see, 1 wanted the glory of trappin’.them
vermin, I tell you what it is, boy, you'll
have to go back to the settlement and re-
turn ’fore dark. I’ve no idea they'll show
their heads afore dark. What you've got
to dois this. Get that young man back to
the square’s, whar’ he can be ’tended to.
Yer strong and willin’—jest take him on
‘yer back, and crawl off till out o’ sight—
then sling him over yer shoulder and make
for the hosses. When you find them, put
him across one—you want t’other—and get
along as fast as you can.”

“"Twon’t be bery fast, massa—dat so.

Massa King can’t bear no fast ridin’.—have .

to walk dem hosses.” '

“Pm afeard of it. But he'll sartingly
die if he don’t have attention soon. §o, off
with him—get into the main road as soon
as possible. Try and.get back afore night,
er I'll have to finish up this business with-
out yer help. And bring a bit of fodder in
yer pockets, if it’s handy.” All this the

F2 8

233

hunter uttered, without taking his eyes from
the cave—and not even when he heard the
negro crawling away with his moaning bur-
den, did he look around.

Finally, as the silence deepened. about
him, Old Hickory felt that he was all alone.
In that wild region it would. not haye been
strange if a passing bear or Indian should
have broken upon his monotony, and placed
him between two fires. If sucha crisis had
arrived, he would not have been daunted.
He was made of stern stuff—the diy’s fast- .
ing and fatigue, following upon a sleepless
night of exposure and exertion, had not yet
begun to tell upon his iron frame—his eye
flashed its blue fire as keenly as ever. His
most eager hope was that the brothers
would make their appearance while he alone
was left to confront them,

No such good luck was likely to happen ;
and as he shifted his weight from one knee
to the other, and lay down on his breast to

, rest himself, all the time watching and wait-

ing, his mind was busy about the evening’s
work—whether the darkness would allow
them to creep up to the cayern’s entrance,
and grasp the men as they ventured out, or
whether the brothers would get the best of it... -
He doubted not that one or the other of the, -
two was constantly on guard, and would de-.
tect the slightest movement, and be fully pre-
pared foran attack. To close about the
cave with a number of men, and so starve
the marauders into submission by an unceas-~
ing siege of days, would have been a plausi-~
ble plan, had not the girl been with them,
to suffer, and, of course, the first to sink un-.
der privation. It would not do to starve
her, certainly—it would be better, even, to
let her captors go. Pondering overall, these
things, Old Hickory’s thoughts were sud-
denly interrupted.

Much to his astonishment, he saw. the
gleam of something blue at the opening—
the log which guarded it was pushed back,
and the girl herself was thrust forward into..
full view. It did not take the oldé hunter.
long to read this strategy.

“ Blast thur skulkin’, cowardly, souls,” he-

‘
 

340

muttered, “thur gwine.to use the gal fora
kiver”—and sure enough one of the Harpes
stepped out behind her, and held her up as
a shicld before him, looked hard in all di-
rections, and began to chirrup to the horses.
Then he spoke to some one inside and the
other brother appeared, both lurking behind
the girl, and gliding along the base of the
rock. It evidently was their object to reach
their horses. The creature who held the
girl in his brawny atm kept up a sce-saw
motion as he ran, which made it impossible
to shoot without danger to her. Passing
the base of the rock, the bushes and trees
would be so thick as to allow them every
facility for evading danger. In fifteen or
twenty running leaps they were into the
covert, signaling their horses to follow,
while they stooped and dodged and ran.
It did not take the ranger long to decide on
one siep. His gun was a double-barreled
one, and he had, besides, King’s rifle. He
knew the men were well armed, probably
But if he
could place them on a footing with himself,
he would attempt the odds of two to one.
The girl had not struggled or screamed, nor

with pistols as well as rifles.

made any resistance, as she was held up to
' shield her abductors.
noticed that she looked pale and stunned.

Old Hickory only

The horses must have been under good
control, for. they immediately started after
their masters. This was the ranger’s oppor-
tunity. Two shots of the double-barrel, fol-
lowing so close upon each other as to seem
almost like one, sent one of the horses roll-
ing upon the grass in death-struggles, and
the other flying, wounded and limping, off
in the woods.

The Harpes set up a defiant yell, and dis-
appeared in the thicket, with their victim.

“ Now I’ve got ’em on ekal terms,” mut-
tered Old Hickory, and in a moment he,
too, was “covered” by a tree, and was
dodging, stooping, and pursuing his enemies.
He had only waited to reload his gun—but
when he came upon the spot where they
had entered the wood, all trace of them was
lost. That, as soon as possible, they would

The Outlaw Brothers.

break from the woods, steal somebody’s
horses, and be off, he had no doubt. It
was highly important, then, that he should
keep the trail, and come up with them be-
fore dark. Skilled in Indian warfare, he
had no difficulty in the pursuit; all he had
to look out for was an ambush—and this,
as they did ‘not know whether they were
followed by one or twenty, it was not proba-
ble they would attempt.

CHAPTER VII.
On the Trail.

25

Tue astonishment of Brutus, when he re-
turned a little after sunset, and found no
Old Hickory upon the ground, was intense.
He brought with him four hunters, whom
he had encountered in the woods, and who

_ were eager to join in the hunt after the
+ dreaded HWarpes. King had been sent on
to the squire’s, with word to the fimily of
“how affairs stood at that time. After cau-
tious reconnoitering, nothing could be dis-
covered of the ranger. One comfort was,
that his body was not to be found: The
dead horse gave some clue to what had
been transpiring. It fully convinced Bru-
‘tus that the Harpes had fled, and that Old
Hiekory was after them. He therefore ven-
tured to enter the cave.
light enough to show that it was deserted.
A pile of hemlock-bushes, a blanket, and

There was just

the remains of food, looked as if it had been
occupied at least several-days.

“Tf Hick’s arter ’em, he'll get ’em—that’s
all,” remarked one.

“Oh, Lordy,” whimpered Brutus, “ why
‘couldn’t I a’ been along? I'd liked no better
fun, and now I’ve got to miss it! Who's
a better right den dis chile to look arter de
welfar of his own dear young missus?
It’s right down mean for Old Hickory to go
off widout lettin’ me know !”

“ But, ef he stopped for that, I reckon
you'd a’ lost your missus, nigger, sure. So
stop whimperin’, and look about. We may

 

 

 

 
 

- The Battle with the Bear.

have a hand in the fun, yet. Hoorah! let’s
look for the trail.”

The whole five were soon on the track
of it; but it was now too dark to follow.
There was nothing to do but to trust the
Harpes to Old Hick, and to camp out where
they were now, so as to be on their way
with the first dawn of day. The cave be-
ing the dryest, they resolved to take up their
abode in it.

In the morning, as. early as five o'clock,
the little band were out in the woods, track-
ing the path left by the four persons who
had preceded them on the previous night.

How had the night passed with Old
Hick? Knowing that not more than two
good hours of daylight were left to him, and
that, if the Harpes. got clear of the woods

in the night, their escape would be easy and.

certain, he pressed forward, resolved that
the girl should be rescued, and that the
brothers should perish by his rifle. Excited
as he was, and nerved to the highest tension
of muscle and brain, he did not realize that
he was upon the eve of one of the most ex-
traordinary adventures of his life.

He had gone forward for some time; al-
ready the declining sun threw his “ golden
arrows” through the trees, almost on a level
with the horizon. He had just picked up
a comb, such as women wear, which had
either dropped from the girl’s hair, or been
thrown down on purpose to arrest attention,
when he heard, so far before him in the
wood that the sound was faint as an echo,
a woman’s scream. Then two shots were
fired in rapid succession; and while he was
puzzling his brains as to what it meant,a
huge bear rushed out of the underbrush,
coming directly toward him, The animal

Al-

was wounded, and in a towering rage.

though sure of his rifle, the ranger did not.

care to engage with bruin at that critical
time. He would rather rescue Miss Bella
than slay all the bears in Kentucky. But
Fate was obstinate. The bear saw him und
came at him, furiously.

Hick raised his rifle, but lowered it again.

free, although scratched and bleeding.

85

“Tf I fire on the brute, they will hear me,
and will pause to reconnoiter—at least, it
will give them warning of my whereabouts.
I shouldn’t like three beasts upon me at
once. No, mister b’ar, it’s got to be a hand-
to-hand tussle, I see.”

So muttering, he dropped his two rifles,
and, drawing his huge knife, fell upon his
knee, and awaited the onset. As the beast
sprung upon him, he plunged his weapon
into its shoulder ; but its claws were fasten-
ed into his shirt and flesh, and the two
rolled over together. The hunter came up
at the top, and again drew his knife, which
had been wrenched from his Itand, and was
sticking in the wound, and drove it again
and again into the brute’s flesh. The bear
had hold of his leg with his mouth, and
would not be forced to release it by the pain
of the wounds, while the hunter was in such
a position that he could not strike at the
It was at this mo-
ment that a shot whizzed by his ears. He
comprehended instantly that the Harpes
had returned to see what had become of the

animals’s heart or eyes.

bear, and were rejoicing in this opportunity
to put an end to a worse enemy than bruin.
Quick as thought, he again rolled over,
bringing the bear between him and _ his ad-
yersaries. A second shot, designed more
for him than the animal, pierced the bear's
heart, riddled the ranger’s jacket, but left
him unharmed.

The fierce clasp of the savage monster
slowly relaxed—the brave man felt himself
Still
somewhat sheltered by the bear, he cast his
eyes about to see the exact locality of his
rifles. Then, with nice calculation, he sud-
denly rose, made one tound, and was be-
hind a tree, his weapon in his hand. Two
more shots whistled harmlessly past.

He felt, now, that, although one against
two, the best of the fight was in his own
hands.
menced.

A series of maneuvers. now com-

The Harpes, convinced that but one per-
son was on their track, seemed to resolve
upon revenge for the trouble he had made

A
‘

 
 

36 ‘

them. In attempting to make a circuit, so
as to come in his rear and front at the same
time, one of them exposed himself incau-
tiously for five seconds, and the quick rifle
of the ranger did not miss the opportunity.
The man fell, apparently severely wounded.
The other only waited for the fast-increas-
ing darkness to protect him, when he darted
off like’ a deer, the girl flung across his
shoulder. It was impossible to fire while
she was in that position; again she served
as a shield to her abductor.

Smarting and lame from his contest with
the bear, Old Hickory gave chase, furious
at the trick which prevented him from firing.

At last, in the gathering gloom, the fugi-
tive stumbled, staggered, fell, dragging the
girl down with him; but almost instantly
she was upon her feet, and flew, with light-
ning speed, back, toward the ranger, who,
she knew, was near, though it was already
so dark that she did not see him.

“ Tree, gal, tree !” shouted Hickory.

She sprung to one side, as a pistol-shot
whizzed past her.
ger barely saved her.
whether his fire had taken effect or not, the

The warning of the ran-
Not pausing to see

ruffian again dashed forward.

“Let him go,” muttered Old Hickory.
“T did hope to make sure of him, and I
will yet, arter Pye seen you safe home, miss.
I guess the other is done fur; anyhow.”

It was a sore trial to the rdnger to leave
the bear he had boxed with so handsomely
without taking the fellow’s skin; but, he
consoled himself for this, as well as for the
escape of the murderers, by resolving to re-
turn in the morning, With a band of friends,
and scour the country far and wide. It
was now so dark that the girl had to cling
to her preseryer in order not to lose him.
As he had no guide, except the stars, which
he could not always see, he was compelled,
after trudging back for two or three miles,
to camp for the night.. The cold and dark-
ness were both unpleasant and dangerous ;
he was very sorry for the trembling girl,
whom he could feel shivering, as she clung
to his arm. He resolved to have a fire,

 

The Outlaw Brothers.

quite certain that the Harpes would take no
backward steps. Should they do so, he
was far off the track by which they came.
They descended a hill, and at its base Hick-
ory found a rayine which would quite effec-
tually conceal the light of the fire from obser-
vation. He then drew forth his tinder-box,
struck a spark into some dry leaves, and
soon had a brisk little flame, and then a
cheerful fire. He seated his.charge before
it, while he lgoked about for water, which
he knew he should find somewhere in the
hollow; for he was, as he expressed it,
“pretty nigh tuckered out,” being thirsty,
hungry, and smarting from the hug of bru-
in. Fortunately his tough leather breeches
had sustained the chief fury of the bear’s
onslaught, by which means he escaped any
When he
had washed his wounds carefully, wet his
head, and drank some water, he felt better.

very deep or dangerous scratch.

Gathering some hemlock-boughs for his
companion, and heaping the fire well with
such fuel as he could find, he prepared his
weapons for use, in case of necessity, and
bidding his companion sleep, promised to
keep guard over her. For some hours
neither of them slept, but fatigue gradually
won the mastery over prudence, and both
sunk into slumber.

The earliest bird startled them to their
feet; and thus it was that the retnforce-
ments had no more than started out, that
morning, when they met the triumphant
hunter with his prize,

Brutus came running up and began a
series of leaps and dances about the couple,
then suddenly cast himself on his knees be-
fore his young mistress, caught her gown
and kissed it, jumped up, and almost looked
seriously savage, as he cried :

“Tt war’ right down mean of you, Massa

-Hickory, for to send me off de way you.did,

jis’ for to go and reap all de glory, an’ not
let ole Brutus do nuffin’ for de salvation of
For she is my own mis-
sus, so she is, an’ I'll prove it. Oh, Lordy!
what for you let dat man be a-rescuing you?
Didn’t you know I was a-comin’ ?”

his own missus.

“4

 

 
 

 

 

' dity of the idea.

Home

“JT didn’t care to wait,” said Bella; and
despite her trials, she laughed at the absur-
“T was very glad to take
the first help that came to hand ;” and she
gave the ranger such a look out of her dark
eyes that he felt well repaid for all his ef-
forts in her behalf.

“We're both of us on the p’int of starva-
tion,” said the hunter; “ so, if you re’ly car’
for your missus, darkey, just fly around and
git us some breakfast. Be quick about it,
too, for I want these chaps to jine me in
huntin’ down them human painters.”
Brutus had come prepated for just such
an emergency, and produced bread and
dried meat from one of the capacious pock-
ets of his jacket.

While the two were eating, Old Hick

laid out his plans, which were, first, for
Brutus to take the horses he had brought
and convey Bella safely to the squire’s;
secondly, that he and his little band of hun-
ters should start after the Harpes.

“ Tell the squire and young King to rest
easy in thar’ minds,” was the ranger’s part-

ing injunction to the two, as they started

homeward; “one o’ them villains is al-
ready hurt or killed, and we don’t intend to
come back till we find tother.”

.

CHAPTER. VIII,
Brutus and his Mystery.

“Laws, didn’ Massa Hick tell you Massa
King was hurt bad?” exclaimed the servant,
as he rode beside Bella, noticing that she
nearly fell from her horse when he chanced
to mention the circumstance of his injury.

“No, he told me nothing.”

“Fe was hit wid dat fust shot dem ras-
cals fire; de shot took him in de shoulder.
When I took him off he fainted dead away,
an’ I’m afeard he’s in a bad way, but mebbe
not so serus, arter all,” he added, as her

face turned slowly pale, until every vestige -

of color faded out of it. —
“Can't we go a little faster, Brutus? Can’t
we hurry more ?” was all she said from that

Again. 37

time forward until they came in sight of the
Once there, she leaped from her
horse, her face still as white as a sheet.

squire’s,

“She do lub dat young man, ’sorbingly,
no mistake,’ mused Brutus. “TI jis’ hope
Ef he does, it’ll be
good news for him, I kin tell him. But,
he shan’t know wot I know till I see wot
stuff he’s made of—that’s so/” and the ne-
gro hastened after Miss Bella.

As she leaped from her horse, the door
flew open and Mrs. Claiborne had her in her
arms, laughing, crying, and squeezing her ;
and then the squire came flying out, as if
twenty years younger; and the servants,
little and big, gathered about; but, in the
midst of all the joyous confusion, exclama-

he'll do wot’s right.

tions, questions, the girl grew paler and
more quiet.
could not respond to these hearty welcomes.

“ She’s skeered and tired to death—that’s
“Let's take her
in, missus, and make her some coffee, and

Jntil one fact was known, she

it!” exclaimed the cook.

nuss her up.”

But, Brutus knew what was struggling
at her heart, and asked her question for her.

“How’s Massa King, dis mornin’, mis-
sus? We’s berry anxious ’bout him.”

Mrs. Claiborne’s bright countenance grew
a shade more grave.

“Wal, the doctor’s seen him and got the
ball out, and thinks he’ll get along; but,

he’s quite bad to-day. JI think the worry-

‘ing has made him more feverish, but I hope

he'll get along better now. Come in, child,
and show yourself to him ; that will be the
best medicine in the world for him.”
Trembling, the girl followed into the best
bedroom, where, on the couch, his eyes glit-
tering with fever, and his face quite changed
and pale, lay Caleb. He had heard the
noise in the hall, and was looking with un-
utterable eagerness at the door. When"he
saw who entered it, a cry of joy escaped his
lips, and he held out one weak hand. For
a moment Bella gazed at him, striving to
master herself; but, the self-control of the
polished world was not hers, and, after
an instant’s struggle, she darted forward,

:

 
  

4
é
i
*

35

 

dropped on her knees beside the bed, and
burst into tears.

“There, there, child, you’re just done
over,” said the matron, with womanly tact.

”

“Come, and lie down, in my room;” and
she led the girl away, to compose herself in
solitude, while Brutus expatiated, to his
heart’s content, on the incidents of her res-
cue, as he had them from Old Hickory.

For a few days Mrs. Claiborne had her
hands full. Bella was so exhausted by ex-
posure and mental distress, that, vigorous
as was her constitution, she was obliged to
keep her bed for a day or two. Caleb, also,
was seriously ill; his fever ran high, and
his prostration proved to be extreme. But,
the cool weather, his previous good health,
the lady’s excellent medicaments and nurs-
ing, brought him out of real danger in a
few days. To better all things, and make
his convalescence one long season of happi-
ness, Bella had quite recovered from her
temporary illness, and had been established
in his room as deputy-nurse. .

Caleb no longer regretted his wound; all ,

that he desired was to get well enough to
take advantage of the Indian summer weath-
er to return to the East. He could not.en-
dure the prospect of remaining the winter
in Kentucky, or of allowing Bella to do so;
for the Harpes, despite the promise of the
ranger, had succeeded, as usual, in making
their escape, and the young man never felt,
for a moment, that the object of their search
was safe. Old Hickory and his band, after
three weeks of pursuit, abandoned the game
for the present. But they established a sort
of vigilance committee, which would render
it extremely dangerous for the brothers to
venture into that vicinity. What the fate of

the wounded one had been they could not

discover; though they conjectured, from the
marks left about the place where he fell,
that his brother had returned and carried
him off, for they saw no traces of his hay-
ing been buried thereabouts.

Caleb long had been aware that he loved
the nameless and uneducated orphan ; but,
his pride had struggled against his love.

The Outlaw Brothers.

Her danger, and his own illness, changed
all this. He decided upon the course which
both passion and honor called upon him to
pursue—to betroth himself, with Mrs. Clai-
borne’s approval; to ask her to carry out
her plan of making one of the traveling
party back to the,coast; and to assist him
there in placing his affianced in some suita-
ble school, to remain at least a year before
their marnage should be consummated,
The education of girls in those days was
not so varied as at present, and, despite her
associations, there was about Bella, as we
have said, the air and manner of a lady
Her quick wit, with small aid, would goon
teach her those things in which she was de-

ficient, while, as for natural beauty and

grace, she would be a queen anywhere.

So it happened one lovely day, about a
month after the accident, that Caleb, stand-
ing with Bella by the gate, looking at. the

sunset, was inspired to say something to

her which called up a crowd of blushes, and
sent the glance of those wild, shy eyes wan-
dering everywhere but upon his face, It
was the first time he had been out of: his
room, and the delight of being again in the
open air had broken down the barriers of
doubt and reserve, and let out all the rush
and tumult of his feelings. When they
walked back to the house, the observing
Brutus began to roll his eyes and chuckle.
“T's all right, now. Reckon I see dem
roses on Miss Bella’s cheeks, and Massa
King as proud as a peacock! It’s high
time ole Brutus shouldn't distress hisself no
longer, keepin’ a secret, which has most

bu’st him open ebery day for five months.” .

The approyal of the squire and his wife
was fot withheld upon the arrangements
of the young couple. . Brutus was sum-
moned, and had listened quietly to all that
was said of him; but when the orders for
preparation for the journey were finished,
he asked :

“But where is J gwine to ride, Massa
Claiborne? Shall I sot on de carr’age and
drive, or shall I take black Nance, and ride
along fur a guard, yer know ?”

 

 

 
an

_ to me lately.

 

The Heiress. : 89

“Why, you ain’t going. Who said any
thing about your going ?” cried the squire.
“ Of course I must go ‘long wid my own
missus,” said the negro, dog%edly.
I can't b’long to you no more, square, for
ye’re a kind massa, but, I’s Miss Bella’s nig-

“ Sorry

ga, now.”

“fo! ho! ho!” roared ‘the squire ; “ has
Miss Bella been a-buying you, without my
No, Mister King, no such tricks!
I gave a thousand dollars for Brutus, and I
wouldn’t take fifteen hundred.
him !”

“T’ve said nothing to Brutus,” answered

consent ?

Can’t spare

Caleb, in surprise.

“ Nobody hain’t said nothing to me,” con-
tinued the negro, intensely enjoying the sen-
sation he was creating. “I’ve known all
along, ever since de day Miss Bella sot her
fogt in dis yere house, dat I b’longed to
her, and nobody else, shuah !”

For weeks, Brutus had been full of hints
and exclamations, which had more than
once excited the curiosity of his hearers.
As he had said to himself, “ he was bu’stin’
with his secret,” and a drop or two of i
would occasionally leak out.

“Miss Bella,” he said, turning’ to her,
“do you’member dat time wen I asked
yer ’bout yer name—if yer could ’call de
name of Moultrie?—and how I ast yer
*bout de plantation, and yer seemed to ’mem-
ber more’n yer eber did afore ?”

“Yes, Brutus, it’s all grown quite plain
I remember my old home
so well that I should know it, should I see
it again.”

“Dat’s de talk. Tl ‘lighten yer under-
standin’! It’s de power of ’sociation, Miss
Bella. It’s livin’ alongside o’ me has helped
yer mem’ry.”

“J don’t know what you are talking
about,” she answered, staring at him in self-
amazed “perplexity.

“Yer don’t purtend, Miss Bella, dat yer
name isn’t Moultrie?” said the negro, step-
ping into the full light, and looking intently
at her+—“ and dat yer don’ know yer father’s
own coachman, Brutus, dat carried yer to

mammy Dinah dat day yer tore yer pretty
red frock on de nail, and cried so hard ’bout
it, and mammy sewed it nice, so it didn’t
show? Yer don’t forget de day we found
de hen’s nest togedder, and mammy baked
yer de poun’-cake? Lors, Miss Bella, yer
knows Brutus too well to forget him /”

She gazed at him, like one upon whom
a spell was working, a light coming over
her face, a new memory awakening in her
eyes. She stood a full minute after he had
finished, while he looked at her appealingly ; |
then she sprung forward and threw herself
into his great arms, like a little child, sob-
bing out:

“ Brutus ! Brutus !”

“Does yer know me, honey ?” he asked,
stroking her hair, and then setting her down
on her feet, and holding her off to watch
her face.

“T know you well; I remember all.”

“ An’ yer understan’ why I ast so many
foolish questions dissummer? I was a-tryin’ |
of you, Miss Bella. Fur my own part, I was
sartain who you was de fust time I heard
of you, and see’d you, but I wanted to con-
vince dese oders—and yerself, honey. I
wanted yer recolleckshun to céme back by
degrees. Besides,’ he added, with asly look
at’ Caleb, “Iwanted to see wedder dis young
gentleman liked Miss Bella first rate fer
herself. I says to myself, ‘Hold on, Brutus,
and see if he’s willin’ to take her as she is;’
for, if he was, den he’d be de bery one to
desarve to l'arn dat -he was a-marrying of.
de greatest heiress in Ole Virginny.”

“For the Lord’s sake,” exclaimed Mrs.
Claiborne, fairly trembling, “ don’t keep us
in suspense any longer—tell your story, and
tell it as short as possible.”

Brutus pulled his wool, rolled his eyes
around, and began :

“Yer reckollek, Massa Claiborne, yer
buy’d mé@ Of de heir of de Moultrie estate,
in Ole Virginny, as you was comin’ out to
settle, bout seven year ago. Wal, don’t yer
reckollek what I often tol’ you, ’bout dese
times, what had happened to our family,
sah? Den we was one of de fust families,

 
 

rey to ee

> pry ~2e~

and de Moultries had but one chile, a daugh-
ter, and de fadder and mudder were both
murdered one night, and de chile either
stole or killed? Nobody ever found de
chile, or who killed de parents.”

“ Why, yes, I recall it all now,” broke in
the squire; “but I declar’ I never thought
of it when I heard her story.”

“ Word was sent to the relatives in Norf
Car’lina, and deenext heir-at-law, he come
up and took possession; and all our hearts
was mos’ broke, fer we lubbed de massa
and missus, and de dear little chile. De
new massa, he sell off some of us, and I
was among ’em who was sol’—and I come
out here, and nebber could hear no more

*bout de ole plantation. An’ I allers grieved

about it, night an’ day. And wheh Massa

King began to tell me ’bout dis ,chile, and
wot she said, and how old she was, and
how long she'd been stole, I guessed who
it was, at’ once., Dat was what made me
act so dat day. WhenI sce’d her, den I

know’d sure, for she’s de pictur’ of her

mudder ; and she’s a Moultrie, sartain, sir—
one de fust families Virginny, Massa King—
and I’m gwine along fer a witness, fer she’s
worth t’ree-hundred thousand dollars if she
is a cent—dat’s so !—an’ dem relatives got
to step out dat plantation. So you see,
Massa Claiborne, I b'longs. to Miss Bella,
’spite dat t’ousand dollars; but’ I guess
missus is honest, and will defund de money.”

The air of importance with which Bru-
tus made his concluding suggestion was so
ludicrous as to cause a laugh from his lis-
teners, excited and amazed as they were.

“ Tt’s allers necessary fur to hab a name
to git married wid,” continued Brutus, un-
disturbed by the merriment ; “so I introduces
Miss Bella Moultrie to Massa King”—with
4 flourish. The betrothed girl turned upon
her lover a glorious glance of joy, love, and
exultation mingled. It certainl¥jwas de-
lightful to learn that her name was an hon-

_ ored one, her birth as good as_his, her for-

tune more than equal. Since he had taken
her in her worst circumstances, how proud
was slie to be able to return his rieh gifts!

40 The Outlaw - Brothers.

<a ;

That was a happy and busy family that .
nicht, for they sat up until almost morning,
talking the matter over, and carefully elicit-
ingtall the pmof which both Bella and
Brutus could bring to establish her identity.
The proof was perfectly satisfactory to those
who heard it; and it was now decided that
her claims should be put: forward at once
to the property so justly hers. Caleb was
to take the whole party at once to Virginia,
to establish Bella’s rights; and when this
was in a fair way of being accomplished, ’
she was to find herself a home in: some
good school, until she felt prepared. to as-
sume the duties of her new and exalted
station.

We have only to add that this programme
was carried out successfully. The travelers
got out of Kentucky in safety; the heiress,
within one year, was acknowledged mistgess
of the Moultrie estates, and.it was from the
stately old family mansion that she stepped
forth the morning she was made a bride.

What the object of the Harpes had been
in sparing her, when they murdered her
parents, and why they had brought her up
as their own, remained always a mystery.
Caleb could only guess at one purpose they
Expecting to acquire un-
limited influence over her during her child-
hood, they probably thought so to mold her
to their will, that one of them, when. she

may have had.

came of marriageable age, could induce her
to marry him; when he would step forth
and present her claims to the vast estates
of Moultrie, while.he compelled er persuaded
her silence as to the part they had taken in
If this were the
truth, or if their conduct was instigated by
some caprice of their lawless nature, can
not be asserted. § iy
ee for Old Hickory, he had many 4 per-
jlous hunt after the hated brothers, but their
cunning continued equal to their ferocity,
and they escaped, unfortunately, the rifle of
the ranger, to perish—history does not men-
‘tion how. Théir names are written in blood
on the page of Kentucky’s story. .

making her an orphan.

 

 
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