Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1042) (1900 11)
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Copyriaut, 1878, py BrapLe & ADAMS, Published nvery’ * Month. - Coal The: Swordmaker of the Santeo, BY DR. J. H. ROBINSON. _ _. or “PATHAWAY,” ‘ NIGHTSHADE,” “WHITELAW,” ETC., ETC.” la “ “AUTHOR CHAPTER Ti. . ORE FUGITIVE... . Tr clattorir |, trumpet, and the shouts of dragoons, suddenl disturbed the solitudes of the Santee. A man wit | bare head and streaming hair was seen to leap a wali } and run rapidly across a glade. Toiling up a rugged | ascent,-he paused on the summit and looked back w: of horses’ feet, the ringing hotes of \M, J. IVERS on his pursuers; for the horsemen were evidently |, Jj such. A glance sufficed to show that they were rap- lL idly es : ground. A feeling of utter hopeless- | ness for @ moment chained aim fo the spot. co ¥ Srons of perspiration rained from his forehead; the oy blood whirled meg A in his veins; his chest rose and | fell violently; and panted like a dog overheated fin the chase. | The thundor of the dragoons rolled nearer and | pearer; the sound struck ominously upon his ears, HUNCHBACK, THUMPED, AND \ ENTERED aS SgconpD Cass MATTER aT THE New Yorks, N. Y., Post Orrice. & CO,., Publishers, *” (JAMES SULLIVAN, Proprietor), 379 Pearl Street, New York. —- have dared his vigilance once too often, How mad- ly he rides—leaping walls, fences, ditches, rocks, and allen trees! Ho is down—no, heisup/ It was but a depression of the ground that hid from view. They see me! I must on!” . He ceased, pressed his hand to his beating heart, and added, bitterly: “I must on, but where? The hounded fox may find a cover, and the hunted stag may turn upon the pack; but I can do neither.” ° f The fugitive darted down the hill, and present) reached the bank of the:Santee, the waters of whic at that spot were deep andrapid. He hesitated; it ————— November, 1900. 10 Cents a Copy. cote Ak Ue: by the chase, or more prudent, remained on the bank, watching anxiously the progress of their leader, and the manly exertions of the swimmer, who, notwithstanding the difficulties with which he was obliged to contend, finally effected a landing, far below the point from which he had started, . For a short space he lay exhausted upon the earth; then, staggering to his feet, shook the water from his saturated garments. By this time, Somerton was in the middle of the stream; there was no time to be lost. He ran up the bank. Before him'was an open field, with a wood beyond. Hope animated his breast, imparting strength to his overtasked limbs. If he could cross the fleld and enter the wood, he could defy pursuit. Stimulated by this thought, he leaped a high fence, and was maki 00d progress, when, to his dismay, he again h required a strong and bold swimmer to dare such a | Somerton thundering after him. The wood yeas too current, ‘ “th pees of Colonel Somerton came echoing down e , **Forward,,men! forward! The villain is ours!” That shout quickened him to another effort. He bounded from the bank, was submerged an instant; but, rising, struck out for theo posite shore. Tho stream bore him downward with irresistible force. He battled with the waters, parting them with his strong, nervous arms. Somerton spurred his horse, ‘and attempted to follow; but the animal soon lost his footing, and was swept from his course, His dragoons, less heated PAT <r distant to be attained. At the right of the field there was a tract of broken, Icdgy ground, which he be- lieved would embarrass the movements of his pur- suers, and toward which he now turned, like the wounded stag, which at every ig loses a portion of its strength with its flowing blood, By efforts that seemed superhuman, he reached the more rugged country, and perceived, with satisfaction, that his manceuvre was attended with success; for Somerton followed with more difficulty and less speed. The instinct of self-preservation that had goaded the fugitive on, grew stronger; his eyes gleamed with new hope. Mounting a ledge, he ---~—=- Sar :
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eten a . pees turned to observe the more cautious riding of Somer- m, The clatter of sabres in another direction, caused him to stert with surprise. Looking to the left, he saw a party of horsemen emerge from the forest. and galloping across the open space, effectually cut off his flight. + Fortune,” he exclaimed, ‘‘deserts me in my ‘* Yield, orl fire!” cricd Somerton, drawing a pistol, and spurring up the ascent. “Spare your powder,” answered the man, calmly, seating himself upon a rock. ‘I am unarmed,and shall yo longer struggle to deprive you of the glory of capturing a man whose only crime is a desire to restore law and order to this distracted country.” ** Of that we will hold discourse in good time; but at preseut you are a prisoner,” replied Somerton, reining up his panting steed. “Unable to resist, [ can only submit to your au- thority,” returned the man, in a subdued and quiet voice. ** You are called Deering?’ said the colonel. “Men style me thus; but it matters not,” replied the man, moodily. “Were you born across the water, or were your trade less despicable, I might sympathize with your misfortunes,’ answered Somerton. Then, to one of the horsemen—who. had by this time reached the spot—“ Captain Rainford, mount this person behind one of your men, and conduct him tocamp. By no means allow himt. escape. I shall hold you answer- able for his safe keeping.”’ * Perhaps,” rej..1ed Deering, with a slight curl of the lip, ‘you had better secure me with fetters! There areso few of you, and you attach so much im- portance to my pereon.”’ He glanced at the grim circle of dragoons. Captain Rainford bit his lips, while Colonel Somer- ton ‘egarded his prisoner with more attention. The latter slowly arose to his feet, displaying propor- tions that Somerton could not but admire. In hight, he must have been above six feet, with a muscular development which could not be faulted. His figure was straight and martial, with a notable breadth of shoulders, a prominent chest, and arms like a gladia- tor’s. His features were ular and pleasing, but marked with care, and softly tinged with melan- choly. His head was bare—his dark brown hair hang- in wet masses over his neck and brow. contemplating his face and carriage, the observ- er lost sight of his apparel, which was of gray home- manufacture. His round-s' , Quakerish coat, and long waistcoat were unbuttoned and thrown onan, exposing his throat and breast—the latter being still agitated by his extraordinary efforts to escape his pursuers. “Tt is to be regretted,’ said Colonel Somerton with a sigh, “that one born on American soil, and a with such a goodly frame of manhood (s) bane “Should what?’ interrupted Deering, his cheeks aglow with strong emotion. ‘‘ What is my crime?” “Let posterity give it a name!” retorted Somer- ton, turning away with evident aversion. “Jim Giles,’ said Captain Rainford, addressing a short, stout dragoon mounted upon a white horse, ‘take this man up behind you.” “With all respect for your ‘thority as a s’perior, I can’t do it,’ replied Giles, touching his cap. ** And why not?” asked Rainford, sternly. ““Pve followed you often in the thickest of the fight,’ returned Giles, deprecatingly, ‘‘and never ed my back to the inemy, nor stopped to ques- tion whether a thing was right or not, when I had your order for’t; but I'll be hanged if I'll ride on the same animul with an out-an’-out traitor and villain, who vallys freedom no more nor he does a cast-away uid o’ terbaccer! me for yee ut me un- er arrest, or tothe treat me, an i'll submit to your honor’s judgment.” While the honest m was thus expressing his amg mn Deering's face underwent. several - ‘ §s, being by turns and rec. “See,” muttered Somerton, ‘tin what detestation 4 are held?”’ ‘“‘Heavens!”’ exclaimed Deering. ‘Must this be endured?” By this time Jim Giles had dismounted. **Oap’n,” he added, taking off his cap and flourish- it Bio f of emphasis, “Tl give up my critter th it good-will, and will lead or walk along ahind; but as I said afore onet me if I'll ride in partnerships with him! Havin’ fired my gun, I fall i) - hoe Giles was somewhat addicted to proverbs and the epigrammatic style. His speech was usual- ly interlarded with axiomatic sa Ss, which made him to a certain degree oracular and dogmatic. It was seldom that he uttered three consecutive sen- tences without exhibiting this particular trait of character. Although hel ven Giles was quaint and eccentric, his ge humor and approved integrity rendered him a general favorite in Capiain Rainford’s company. ‘“‘Honest Giles,” as he was often called, been in the front of many a battle, was cool under fire, and had more than once been intrusted with secret service, attend- ed with much personal yay on Being such a man, it will easily be understood that he escaped the cen- sure of his superior on this occasion—his refusal to obey being justly attributed to that zeal which made so a soldier. Ca Rainford looked at Deering, and pointed to the empty saddle. “T understand,” he said, and mounted. “To camp!’ cried Somerton, in the brief, sharp tones of habitual command. cera oor gan the reins mechanieally, and with > moved onward with the dragoons. merton and Rainford rode side by side, convers- ing as they went, while Giles, taken ded a comrade. d many wise th concerning the enormity of receiving British gold and using British senti- ments to the detriment of one’s native country. It was a dark period in Revolutionary history. Gates had been defeated at Camden, the Carolinas were overrun with hire soldiers and those native enemies called tories, whose tender murcies were eruel, and whose inroads were a thousand times more terrible than those of the foreign invader. The Southern campaigns had been unfortunate for the patriots, Their half-starved, boris eemen troops found it hard to withstand of re- Beadle’s. Dime Library. verses that was setting against them. The demon of Destruction stalked abroad. Harmless citizens were ha at their own doors 1. fiends in human form. e land was traversed by British spies, who betrayed the movements of the American forces, frequently m: their most promising combina- tiony and snate victory from them when it seemed in their grasp. “ While I deprecate his crime, I pity his fate,’ said Somerton, making a movement of his hand toward Deering. “| have no sympathies to waste on him,” answered Rainford, shaking his head. ‘Such miscreants richly deserve the halter, , “True, true!’ returned the colonel, pensively. “There is no help for it—he must die!” “Would to God that the same halter that deprives him of his miserable life, could encircle every tory neck in the Carolinas at the same instant!"’ exclaim- ed Rainford. ‘In our zeal, we must not forget to be just,’’ re- sumed Somerton. ‘The unfortunate man must have some form of trial, I would not hang a dog without evidence.” “To the devil with your scones, colonel!”’ cried Rainford, impatiently. ‘Is not the measure of tes- timony already filled to overflowing? Have I not passed more than one night in the saddle in vain attempts to take him, dead or alive? Have we not hun him across the country like a game beast, and has he not as often eluded us? I venture to say that there is not a more subtle and dangerous fellow in the South than this same Deering, or whatever he may choose to call himself. General Greene, you re- member, mentioned him in his last dispatches to Washington, and has given particular instructions to all the partisan officers in this part of the country to make short work with him, if taken. You are not wont to be tender-hearted, Somerton.” “The man shall die. Ican dono more!”’ answered the colonel, dryly. “Feeling is good in its place; but pity for such a b taguendia much out of place as Satan would be in e pulpit.” “tt may be so, Rainford, but he’s _a fine-looking fellow, nevertheless; and, though I execrate his character, he shall have fair play, even to to the foot of the gallows.” ““Which I hope he may soon reach—which I trust is no offense to Pay honor,” inte Jim Giles. “Silence!” cried Somerton, in a tone that hushed every voice, and the party pursued their way to camp without further conversation. CHAPTER II. JUDITH REDMOND. DEERING rot thrust into a log-cabin, nee oe a stro was 9 7% Sergean' ies, who took notea little ride in showing himself, by his watchfulness, wo: the trust reposed in him by Captain Rainford. structure in which the pris- oner found himself was one of a kind quite common at the time in the colonies, built of timbers hewn on two sides, interlocked at the ends in a man- ner to ee much firmness to the fabric. It had evi- dently been used as a prison before, for the long, ogee windows were barred with heavy stanchions of oak. The rays of the descending sun — dubiously in through the apertures, falling like pale and startled shadews upon the rough floor. me straw was heaped in a corner. A table stood near the cen- ter, upon which lay various irons for the limbs of those who were thought to deserve them, either by their crimes or delinquencies. Deering Seared them with an interest ren- dered peculiar by his situation, His cheerless medi- tations were interrupted by Giles. ** Colonel Somerton wants to know,” he said, blunt- ly, “if he can do anything to make your Short stay rire 9 sort 0’ comfortable, as "twere? ndness I scarcely vs answered the prisoner, quickly. ‘‘ Yes, there is— Deering stopped, ‘\Is what?” queried the sergeant. * Not my fellow—nothing. "Twas butan earthy, wetheh ‘fone ht,” returned ring. “Tf you have airt —— ou’d better put the on ‘em at once, and not let ’em go to gal- lopin’ to etarnity with ye like a detachment of our horse,” responded the t, who took no pains to conceal his oe for - person whose safe kee he co ered himself responsible. mt Giles, do not trouble yourself about mat- ters that concern myself and God, only,” responded Deering Wee a ht tone of rebuke. “ Per ” continued the sergeant, “you'd like pen ‘in. the er ge way, as you’ve a long chase a long ih “aT thank ou, soldier, but I need noth I be- lieve,” he said, smiling bitterly; ‘it makes le dif- ference whether a man dies on a full or an empty stomach.” z “T reckon you'll know as soon’s most of us!” said Giles; “though you shall have a longer breathin’ spell than poor Hale had. ies are a kind 0’ cattle that don’t flourish ‘mong the Continentalers. ‘Haste makes waste,’ it is said, but ‘delays are $a and when you've fired, go to the rear to load.” The se t,drew himself up, and made his saber rattle ominously. ttl nisl “A spy! aspy!”’ repeated Deering, with emotion. “When caught is hanged; when hanged is good for nothing,” said Giles. “Sergeant!” said a voice at the door. _ } “At your honor’s sarvice,” quoth Giles, with a military salute. “Do not forget my instructions,” said. Rainford “but attend to them with the utmost fidelity. Admit no one without my orders.” * Or the colonel’s, your honor?”’ “Or the colonel’s,” added Rainford. ‘Does the prisoner wish for anything?” *Hesays not; but you can question him yourself.” “No, Giles, 1 hold no discourse with traitors. Were he a born Briton, I would lay up no unkindness agains him; but, having been nurtured beneath the dly suns of the South, I cannot find it in heart to excuse the unnaturalness of his conduct. Inform hima that to-morrow he will share the fate of Hale and other victims of Eng) dence against him is overwhelming. The very shad-. ow of doubt flies before the accumulated mass of testimony. - Hope there is none, save in such spiritu- al consolation as he may be capable of receiving. The spy stood motionless near the window, and though he started and cha: color more than once while the captain was , he curbed the strong impulse that was upon him, and did not reply to one who disdained to hold converse with him his low estate. Colonel Somerton entered the cabin. 1 “Deering,” he said, without harshness, ‘I have. received within the hour instructions from General ne to use every reasonable endeavor to capture the spy whose name has been so often heard in. these parts; and, if successful, to execute him with « no more delay than deceney requires. But notwith- Standing these orders, I shall myself examine yo and if you can answer satisfactorily the questions shall propose, will send you to General Greene, to- gether with a true statement of the same.” “Proof!” muttered Rainford, contem tuously. “ Are not the proofs abundant—overwhelming? Rainford threw a stern glance at the prisoner, and contracted his brows. Somerton retired from the cabin without replying to his doughty captain. He had gone but a short distance when Giles overtook him, saying: “Here's a lady that wishes to see your honor.” Doreen her to my quarters,” said the colonel, absently. “If your honor will take the trouble to turn your head a little, you'll see her without that delay, added Giles, In obedience to this suggestion, Somerton looked to his left, and beheld a female, timidly awaiting his notice. Her appearance arrested him at once, and engaged his entire attention. During changeful and active life in field and camp, he had met many women worthy of admiration; but the lady who mow stood before him, in the matter of rsonal prestige, was superior to. them all. .Her igure was graceful beyond description, and her air such as to command immediate respect. She was closely veiled, but the silken tissue did not conceal the lovely outlines of her face. Her complexion was wonderfully clear, her eyes brilliant, her mouth of exquisite delicacy, her neck slender, and her bust shapely to perfection, ; Somerton observed, with the gs and critical eye of an artist, that her hands and feet were sroeils and her arms—such. portions of them as were no concealed by her dress—white and rounded. A pleasing appreciation of the charm of beauty insen- sibly stole upon the doughty warrior, unconsciously keeping him mute and motionless. The voice of the lady aroused him from his waking trance. ‘Do I address Colonel Somerton?” she asked, her voice flowing like silver ripples over a quiet sea. “Tf you seek the person you have done me the honor to mention, you need look no farther,” answered Somerton, with a bow. “How can I servo you?’ “TI have a request,” she said, stammering “ which—” “Walk to my quarters, lady, where you may be free from inguisitive eyes, and I will hear you with leasure. eare not,” he added, with a smile, as e entered an unpretending, and weather-worn text, “so roy lod as some of his majesty’s officers; but I trust that the Continental soldier knows: ag well what is due to your sex as the most loyalsubject in the land.” “T doubt it not,’ answered the lady, with earnest- ness, as shd followed him beneath the dingy canvas, and acce the proffered camp-stool. Ly Now, lady, ” said Somerton, gently, “I will listen to your petition—which is already granted, if it be not inconsistent with my duty as a colonial offi- ” cer. ““My coming concerns the man now in custody,” she said, with effort. ¥ “Deering?” interrogated Somerton, in a tone of astonishment. ‘Tt is to that unfortunate person that I refer,” re- sponded the lady, in a voice nearly inaudible, ‘Lady, I have seen you but a moment, but the thought that you have aught in common’ with him gives me real pain,”’ said the colonel, papery fh “*T know that the mark of Cain is on his forehead; that he suffers—most unjustly suffers!” she cried, with touching ene TJ “It te indeed the mark of Cain: for whosoever findeth him may kill him; for which act there is the ive She igre of se age pe of the Con- tinental Army. ity his misfortw detest trade, and can do nothing for him.” ma pi Somerton arose and paced his little tent, in evident perturbation. we I caine aM serean bi Swf ask for hin e an y, tho eve deserving ot potitight T Svitho. hi 21 sk ”—Som as without mdelicacy ask ” erton be- gan, but checked himself fom feng of wounding thr ‘air creature before him, A burning blush mantled her face. “My name, Colonel Somerton, is Judith Redmond. Deering is a friend —a true friend, I believe—but noth- ing—nothing more,” ‘Pardon me, Miss Redmond. It was no ‘ar curiosity that prompted me to question you. You shall see the spy,’’ answered the colonel, hu~ ri , “Even a spy may be a man of honor,” said the lady, in a faint voice. “Remember young Male,” she added an “Lady, the allusion 4s unfortunate,” rejoined Somerton, a cloud ap. ring upon his face. : “ He was brave an erous, and d’ed like ahero?’’ she exclaimed. “He was on the right side,”’ answered the officer,» with dignity, ‘‘ Hale died for his éountry, but Dog- ing die for the love of British goid.”’ ‘Do not—do not believe it!” cried Miss Redmond, wildly. ‘“‘God knows nie pee, of aeieene. 4 Upon my soul, Miss mond, I regret the .cix- cumstance t _—- him in a since it wounds you so deeply. But duty—duty is inexor- able. He stepped to the door, and dis hed a colored servant for Giles, but did not dare eer. to speak further with his lovely visit
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“ vise some subtle plan o “Cenduct this lady,” he said, when the sergeant appeared, “to the prisoner.” “Shall } feave them together?” inquired Giles. “Tt is my order.” “How long?” continued the practical ser. geant. Somerton looked inquiringly at the lady. “A few miserable, miserable moments!” ' ghe murmured. Giles would have continued his interroga- tories, had not an imperious gesture from the colonel silenced him. He led the way to the . eabin, wondering much that a hireling spy " ghould be honored with such company. “He's in there, miss,” he said, throwing ‘, open the door. “ It’s summat dark, but yonr bright eyes ’ll soon make it light enough. Go ® straight along and you can’t miss him. There’s _ an inner door, ma’am, which opens with a lateh, Tom Thornton, push it open for her. ~ Be as expeditious as you can, if it's all the " game to . ; for the feller needs a parson more nor he does female company. I wonder,” - added Giles, exon mice’ § as the second door opened and closed upon the lady, “ how long * a few ‘miserable, miserable moments’ may i be? Tom, mind your business, and don’t be eavesdroppin’. There must be disciplyne *mong the dragoons. Stan’ up straight, slant our toes out’ardly, and when you've done your best, do better next time.” Deering heard a light footfall; looked up quickly ; then sprang forward and seized the % extended hand of the lady. “This is indeed a sunbeam across my dark- * ened path !” he exclaimed, kneeling and press- ’ ing the passive hand again and again to his ~ lips. “ Arise, my friend—arise! Not to me, but _ to Heaven kneel,” she said, with dee emotion. “Dearest, loveliest, when I kneel to thee, I knee] to Heaven!” answered the spy, in a > tone that thrilled to her soul. “ Lift your mind,” resumed Miss Redmond, : solemnly, “from earthly considerations. Let not my coming divert your thoughts from their proper channel.” “What Jess earthly than thou ean I think : ef?” said the spy, with enthusiasm. “ Angelic goodness prompted this visit! Who but thee i would have sought a wretch destined to die on the morrow? Thou hast sweetened my pi Hh bitterness, till the direful potion of death Jost half ite horror.” “How dreadful is your position!” replied : Miss Redmond, with mournful vehemence. Alas, Guy, for your memory when all is over! Hed you forfeited life in the cause of freedom, this parting would have been less painful ; nominy of a British spy, gives me inexpres- Sole Seta O Guy, it ‘here no escape? , but to go out of the world covered with the ’ Have you not some powerful friend in the Continental Army—or is there not some means by which you can scale these wooden walls— elude the sentinels—and leave the gallows be- hiud? If I were a man, I would find some way—hit upon some bappy invention—or de- cheating even Fate itself; if it led to such disgrace. I would move heaven and earth with my endeavors !” She paused, and pressed her burning fore- - head with ber hand. “ Judith, beloved Judith, you torture me And yet,” he added, “ it is something to know that [ have the sympathy of the best being on earth! I thank thee a thousand times for thy tender pity.” “ Strange, incomprehensibly strange, that a - soul like thine should spurn the claims o country and patriotism !” said Judith, looking earnestly et the sorrowful face of her lover. “Mercy, Judith, merey! Thy words cut like the anbres of Marion’s men—ay, deeper ; for they reach to the soul itself.” ar British spy!” gasped Judith. “Guy Deering, can this be you?” There was a world of agony in these utter- ances. Neither for a time could speak. “Can I endure this?’ muttered the spy, aan “Shall I go hence and make no ign? 1 must—I must!” “Guay Deering, you are etruggling with some great secret. Speak it, in Heaven's name! if it will relieve the darkness of your fate and name.” She took his hand, and turned her beautiful fase upon him in ineffable entreaty. £ "ihe past, 'tis past !” he murmured, huski- ly, and with a faint and fading smile. “Iam ~—I em strong again. Now, dearest, talk not Hirl, the Hunchback, of me, but of thy darling self. If I shake oft this outward form of humanity, I will live again inthee. My immortal nature shall find a habitation in the fair temple of thy own spirit, and mysteriously incorporate with thee —become a conscious part of thyself. This is Love—the first, the last, the ethereal, the eternal. Thinkest thou, my own, that death ean tear us asunder?” Deering drew Judith to his breast, and the rays of the setting sun fell upon both. His pale features were lighted with enthusiasm, while hers pictured wonder, fear, and trust, CHAPTER Ii. HIRL, THE HUNCHBACK. The soft and mellow haze of twilight waa descending upon the camp, when the clear challenge of an American sentinel rang out upon the air: “Who goes there?” “ A friend.” “Stop, friend, and give the councersign.” The person thus challenged was seated in a cart, which was drawn by asorry-looking horse —the thinness of which seemed to attest to a long penance of fasting. The driver of this animal was far from prepossessing in xg ance. He was of large frame, but his figure was rendered disagreeable by a painful stoop and a monstrous protuberance between his shoulders. We cannot describe him better than by simply affirming that he was a huneh- back. His face, which otherwise would not have been ugly, was made repulsive by a wound upon the right cheek, imperfectly con- cealed by a patch. He had apparently pass- ed the prime of life, for long gray hairs flut- tered over his forehead. He wore a suit o homespun brown, better adapted for hard service than show. His patriarchal head was protected by a round cloth cap, which bore unmistakable impress of long use. A large powder-horn and ball-pouch hung under his left arm; while beside him in the cart, braced against the rude seat, was one of those redoubtable weapons denominated the king’s-arm. Instead of stopping his horse when chal- lenged, he jogged on, jerking the reins, and muttering : “Go ‘long, Crazy! go’long! A’n’t afeard o’ nothin’ you see hereabouts, be ye?” “ Halt!” shouted the sentinel, raising his musket. “Git out the way, you ragged critter. Don’t you know better than to be etandin’ right in the way of a hoss and cart?” cried the hunchback, Leacpa fp “ Stop, or I fire!” the sentinel, warne meh “Whoa, Crazy, whoa!” said the old man, stopping his bony beast with much tugging and sawing upon the bit. ‘ Don’t p’int that gun at me, you reckless divil! Why in the name 0’ conscience don’t you fight the inemy instead o’ your friends? Nobody'l come anighst ye bimeby, if you go on in this ry- dicerlous way. Whatin time you want?” “The countersign, you old fool—the couna a5", 2% roared the sentinel. “Hey? What? Speak louder, if you want anything. Been deef these twenty years or up’ards.” } The hunchback cocked his head upon one side with that earnest vacuity of expression indicative of the unhappy infirmity which he had avowed. “You heord well enough jest now!” snarl- ed the soldier. : “What perduced it, did ye say ? God, I s’pose, or it might been nat’ral, leastwise. The old woman says ‘twas done by one the Smith gals a singin’ treble in my ears when [ led the singin’ ; but thst don’t look reasona- ble to me, Washington in the camp ?” The hunchback looked at the sentinel with an air of such perfect simplicity, that he gould not refrain from laughing. “T reckon you know a precious sight about military affairs, old man. Do you s’pose the great Washington goes canterin’ about the country like an itinerant parson or a common whipster.” “ hey say he’s a mighty good fighter, and makes the redcoats run like a flock o’ sheep.” “ Enough of this, old gentleman! Give me the countersign, or move off.” “ My name's Hirl—old Hirl, ill-mannered folks call me.” “ Confound him!’ muttered the soldier. “What doIdo? Usedto bea blacksmith ; 3 SSS am ax.wordmaker, now. Made quite a lot 0’ weepons for Marion’s nen. Cut up old mill- saws and sich. Let me in, will ye? Can't stan’ here foolin’ much longer.” “T've a mind to fire on the old chatter box!” said the sentiuel, beginning to be an- ety again. “ Yes, I'm right handy with tools; can put an edge on your sabres that'll cut a hair. Soger-feller, that bagonet o’ your’n is blunt ss your thumb. How can you stick sich a thing as that into a Britisher? Might as well carry a bean-pole.” Losing all patience, the sentinel strode u to the hunchback, and seizing him by tha « lar, howled in his ear: “The password! the password !’* “Why the divil didn’t you say eo in the fast place?” screamed the old man, fre A “Come down to bring a few sabres to Wash- ington to hash up the redconts with. Guess he’d swear some, if he knowed how you'd kept me outside with your imperdenee.’ “I asked you for the countersign ten min- utes ago.”’ >) ~ “T hain’t got it ;” and if I had, 1 wonldn’t deliver it to nobody but the gineral. I ain't & man as seeks arter signs of no kind.” At that juncture, Captain Rainford, who had heard a part of this dialogue, stepped for- ward and demanded of the proprietor of the horse and cart what he wanted. “T want to see the officer in command,” an- swered the hunchback, peevishly. “Been bothered here nigh on to half an hour, and I'm sorry to say, mister, that the regerlations here is a disgrace to the Continental Congress, Havin’ heerd that there was a great yume o’ weepons among ye, | jest whi Crasy into the cart, and Kariod sighs bean with » few o’ my best razors, that'll shave a Britisher *thout lather or hot water. Come and look at ’em, sir. Or, perhaps,” added the hunchback, reflectively, “you'd better take me right to the gineral.” 7 Then to the sentinel : “ Watch that cart, there, for you don’t seem to have nothin’ else to do ; though if I's boss here, I'd keep ye a shoulderin’, and orderin’, and presentin’ till you could scurcely stan’ on your legs. Ishall speak to Washin n about the gineral looseness hereabouts, in p’int o’ disciplyne.”’ “ You've brought us some blades of home manufacture, have you, my good man ?”’ said , Rainford, smiling. “ He’s brought the.High Hills of the Santee on his back, I should think!” muttered the a pl. ‘ “Yes, major, I’ve brought ye some good ‘ans that I'll warrant iy the business, if roperly used.” Then to the soldier: “ You eller with the musket, you can have the word now, if you want it; though little good it'll do ye, for I’s bound to see your com mander, anyhow. Marion! there, you havs it! TI hope this'll teach ye to mind your own consarns, and treat the friends o’ Congress with respect. Come op Crazy, come up! Guess, on the whole, we'll take the cart rig slong, for somebody might steal the razors, ou know ; and I should be pesky loth to have em swingin’ on the wrong side, haghin’ up our folke ’..eaa o’ the Britishers.” “You are very welcome, my man. ring your horse and cart inside the lines. What's your name?” said the captain, eyeing his strange visitor with considerable curiosity. “My name is Hirl, though ill-mannered eople call me Old Hirl, Crazy Hirl, Deef irl, and soon. You can take your choice, major. In times of peace I was a smith ; but now I’m s swordmaker, and can sharpen up your tools to a turn, if you like. Any news stirrin’ ?” : “‘ Nothing of importance, excepting the ca ~~ of a fay aay.” replied Rainford, wate essly. : * Scene "long, Crazy! The old gal’s gittin’ tired. Aspy,eh? Well that’s good news! You'll string him up right up, I s’pose ?” said the hunchback, with a business air. “He will be executed to-morrow mornivg™ “ This is a nice creetar o’ mine, major. You wouldn't think she’s ‘leven year of} nea? Fonrth o’ July ?” The hunchback looked ecomplacently et his meagre mare. “You're mistaken, my friend: I should think her twenty instead of eleven,” replied the captain, shortly. “You're no judge o’ horse-flcsh, young “
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aa maa. What did you say this feller’s name is, that’s goin’ to give a tight-rope performance in the mornin’ ?” The man with the hunch on his shoulders ve Crazy a slap across the nose, and watched its effect, while waiting for an answer. “ Deering!” replied Rainford. “Deering!” exclaimed Hirl, exhibiting much surprise. “Then you have trapped him at last. Poorlad! poorlad! I used to know his father right well; and this boy, too, who was ever a generous and hearty youth. Pity he took to sich courses; but it runs in the blood, I s’pose.” “ Do you live in his father’s neighborhood ?” Rainford inquired. “Our houses are in sight of each other. "Twill be a heavy blow to the old gentleman, who hasn’t a grain o’ sympathy for the British- ere. He'll have a heap o’ questions to ask about this poor, misdirected creetur. "I'wouldn’t be no more nor a Christian act, I reckon, jest to take a look at him to see how he bears it, and ask if he has any meesage to send to the old homestead.” The old man Icoked ensively at the ground. “He has a father and mother ?” “Sartin, sartin—most folks has, I believe. Haven't the matter of a peck of oats, have ye, that I could give Crazy? The old jade has trundled over a good many miles, to-day. By the way, speakin’ of this unfortunit youngster, { rally think it’s my duty to see him, though ft ’ll harry up my feelin’s woundedly.” Hir] spoke in a tone that carried conviction to the mind of Rainford. “Tf such are your feelings,” he said, “T will mention the subject to Col. Somerton, who will readily give you access to the prisoner.” “Thankee ; though the job ien’t to be cov- eted, These sabres that I brought down you shall be welcome to, jest for the sake o’ liber- ty; and they may be the means of makin’ a market for more. If your bagonets or swords want oe ges John Hir] is the man to do it, although he’s ruther skeery ’bout takin’ Conti- nental money as times are ; for Congress is poor as Job, and there’s no hard money in the eonntry.” While the hunchback was talking, Rainford was examining the weapons which he had brought in bis cart. They were not elegant in form, nor cunningly polished; but they seomed rightly attempered, and were ground to a keen edge. “In a strong hand,” said the captain, “these blades will do fearful exeeution. My friend, as offering is yery acceptable; for some of our poor fellows are but indifferently armed. You could not have brought a more welcome gift. Sergeant Giles,” he added, rais- ing his voice, ‘‘carry these weapons to the ¢olonel’s quarters. ere is Somerton himself. Colonel, this worthy countryman lias brought ® timely supply of trustworthy blades. Our dragoons will make terrible work with them, uf yon will give us a chance at the enemy.” merton took one of the sabres from the eart, and, approaching a camp-fire, examined its workmanship, and balanced it in his hand. He then turned to the sword-maker, looking him over with asearching eye. The some- what pale and disfigured countenance, and the stooped figure, passed a critical ordeal be- fore the colonel withdrew his regards. “ So you forged these weapons, old man ?” he said, at length. ‘ “My name ie Hirl,” said the hunchback, in a shrieking woice. “It is Hirley, rightfully ; but ill-mannered people have shortened it, eullin’ me Hirl—Oid ey Taf Bir}, and last ly. Crazy Hirl.” : “Speak loud, Somertun® the old fellow is rather deaf,” suggested Rainford. | “Speak in my left ear if you want me to hear; for thst’s the most active of the two. The doctors say the drum of the right ear {je mightily out o’ repair. Been dreadfully *Bieted, of an’ on. It’s bad enough to be herd o’ hearin’; but I’ve had the rheumatics in my j'inte, the neuraligy in my face, and the browncreeturs in my throat pooty much the most o’ the time since the breakin’ out o’ the war.” “ You seem to have an ugly wound on your right cheek,” observed Somerton, mindful of the man’s infirmity. ; “Yes; got that in a bit of a scrimmage with # gang o’ tories up to our place t’other day. ity wife said if the ereetur 'd struck hard enough, ‘twould been nighabout the in- stigation of my life. They tell me, eolonel, Beadle’s Dime Library. that you’ve ketched Deerin’ at last. His folks live clost to my house, and I jist telled the major here—” P des a captain of dragoons,”’ said Rainford ryly. “That I's afeard I should have to go am see him. His father is a staunch Continents’ Congress man.” “ His father a patriot! Can it be possible ?” exclaimed Somerton. “There will be grief for him to-morrow night, Unhappy father! —unhappy son !” Somerton spoke with an earnestness that testified to his kindly eympathies. Then in a lower voice, to Rainford : “ Captain, it is a painful duty that devolver. on us; but we will execute it faithfully, aw cording to the usages of war.” “Our country demands it of us. It will be no more than an act of common humanity to allow this worthy, though simple-minded man to see him,” returned Rainford. “We sometimes have the most to appre- hend from simple-minded men; although, in this case, I confess I can see nothing but ap- parent honesty and singleness of purpose,” answered Somerton, again scrutinizing the hunchback, who now stood warming his hands over the fire, after the manner of old persons whose blood begins to flow tardily through the shrunken veins. “ Tt's a stout arm,” mused the colonel, “ for an old man; “but I suppose those swelling muscles come of his trade. What a mountain be carries on his back! Where's Sergeant Giles ?” “Here, your honor! answered that indi- vidual. “Prompt as a cannon-ball,” laughed Som- erton. “ Am allers on hand, like shop-worn goods,” said Giles. “ You see this old gentleman?” “ With a bomb-shell atween his shoulders ?” If I conldn’t see him, I shouldn’t be able to see the Hills of Santee inashiny day! With our honor’s permission, he don't know much of the art of war, havin’ throwed up his forti- fications alind instead of afore.” Honest Giles touched his cap, and stood straight as a hickory poping. “ itis name is Hirley; and he has permis- sion to eee the spy. You have charge of the prisoner to-night. Be careful that the same man comes out of the cabin that goes in, I have not the faintest suspicion of the honesty of this garrulous old man; but it is a good plan, Sergeant Giles, to deal with an honest man as you would with a teat “The man that thinks to deceive Jim Giles, our honor, brings his sack to the wrong mill. have a saddle to fit every horse, and he's a knowin’ beast that gives me a fall. Come, Harry, or Old Harry, to the right face— march !” “ Follow the sergeant,” said Rainford. ‘He will provide you with food and quarters till to-morrow, i you are disposed to pass the night in camp.” “'Bleeged to ye, cap’n! Will talk with ye more ‘bout the woepons, presently.” With this reply, the hunchback went shuf- fling after the martial steps of the sergeant. They saw a female gliding from the cabin as they approached it. She moved away swiftly, and her graceful form was soon lost in the obscurity. “ How now, sergeant ?” said Tom Thornton, as Giles appeared in the narrow entry of the cabin. “ You've brought a different grist to our hopper this time. We don’t object to anything in the woman line; but such a nightmare ae this will afflict the prisoner afora his time.” “The duty of a oldier and officer is to obey orders,” quoth GMes, with not a little dignity. “Tom Thornton, face to this mountain of a man; Old Harry, face to Tom Thornton. Now, Tom, it’s expected that the same one ‘Il come out as goesin. Obsarve the critter well, eo there'll be no mistake. If the spy should give us the slip, we should be disgraced forev- er and a day,” “I've got eyes as well as another; and he is blind indeed who don’t know a sheep from eswine!” ‘Then, to Hirl; “ Friend, you carry a heavy pack. Pass in, in God’s name; for it’s my opinion that the sight of ye will do more to reconcile the spy to death than any- thing else.” : Thornton lifted the latch, pushed open the door with his foot, and the hunchback went ia, The former heard two voices a long time as he moved slowly to and fro in the little entry , both being different in volume and character, and easily distinguishable. When the old man at length appeared, air was absent, and he kept shaking his like one in doubt. The spy himself attended him to the door, and said : “‘ Good-night.” Thornton looked at the hunchback a mo ment, made an affirmative motion of the head, and let him out. “ You've had a long chat, Old Harry,” asid Sergeant Giles, who was waiting him outside. “My name is Hirl, or more properly Hir- ley ; though ill-mannered people eall—” “Never mind the ill-mannered le {” interrupted Giles, impatiently. «pat me how you found the prisoner ?” “Ruther malancholy, and down at the heel I don’t think he wants to be hung at all, not a bit on’t. He don't look as I expected in the least. It don’t seem possible that he’s old Mark Deerin’s son, and I’d oughter know him as well as anybody. But then boys grow out of one’s mem'ry very quick. No i- bility o’ mistake—is there, corporil ?” The hunchback applied the digits of his right hand to his head in a perplexed and re- flective manner, “Mistake? The matter's as plain as the pack on your back!” “I don’ know—I don’ know ; but I s’pose you do. He wasn’t so glad to see me as I thought he’d be ; and, to tell the truth, wasn’t inclined to acknowledge the ‘quaintance at fust. I've got to think about this a spell. afore I can make head or tail on’t.” “ He has wit enough to deceive a dozen like yeu,” affirmed Giles, “He that. travel far nows much,” “Stayincamp? ’Bleeged to ye ; but arter seein’ thie boy, I ha'n't got much appetite for’t. I'll take Crazy, and jog to the nearest farm-house, and call round ag’in some other time to sharpen up your tools. The kurnil’s welcome to the sabres. If ‘twasn’t for the rheumatics, I'd stay and help use ’em; but I'm a gittin’ too old for asoger. You see,a man 0’ my age hasn’t much to fight for-—for I can’t stan’ it & great many years, in the evurse o’ natur’. Whoa, Cress The old gal had the scratebes last fall, but she’s got nighabout shut of ‘em now, Jes’ slip the bri- dle into her mouth, corporil. Apt to cast her bridle when I leave her by herself, Crazy is.” ~ The hunehback clambered into his cart, and was tugging at the reins, in an endeavor to turn, when Captain Rainford passed, in the rformance of some official duty about camp. fie made a momentary halt, and said : “So you leave to-night ?” “Yes; I’m deef as a haddock in the right, but I can hear pooty well with the left,” sereamed Hirl, whose unfortunate ear con- tinually involved him in misapprehensions. “Did you see the girl?” asked Somerton in a voice loud enough to be heard on parade. “ Yea, Hirl; thou i ill-mannered people—” “Confound the fellow!” muttered Somer- ton; while Rainford interrupted the hunch- back with: “ Pshaw, old gentleman! You have a mar velous faculty of perverting everything. The sen wishes to know if you saw the young 9” @ Yes, I saw him; but don’t ask mé no questions--for the poor lad has kind o’ be- wildered me, as *twere. I don’t know what to say, I’m sure. One thing’s sartin, he’s give. me & powerful malancholy. I a’n’t fit for a soger; for I'm too tender-hearted to strin up 4 feller creetur as if he was a dog, a nothin’ better. Good night, kurnil: good bight, corporil.” “Is the prisoner calm? Does he bear his fate like a man?” inquired Somerton, with much earnestness. “ He's calmer nor he'd oughter be, I should eay ; a pesky sight quieter nor many that has less on their minds,” replied Hirl. “ Does he exhibit no remorse—no despair?” “Yes, she’s a good mare, ‘leven year next spring. Oan trot her three mile an® hour "thout wettin’ a hair. Go ‘long, Crazy! I stan’ # smart chance o’ gettin’ the rheumatics being ont so late. Get up, old gall” ; The hunchback see-sawed the bits across the lank jaws of his mare, the wheels a to turn, and he lumbered away — musket, powder-horn, deafness, pack. and all, : ew i le. = ON he — a tg gta > Pe tn ee
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ise = ne 6 tte, “ 4 wis i os i i ere es ots om al NLA. CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH THE SPY DENIES HIS IDENTITY. “Come with me, Captain Rainford,’’ said Semerton. a few minutes after the departure of the sabre-maker. “If you propose visiting the spy,” replied Rainford, with hesitation, ‘1 hope you won't dasist on my company.” “It is my wish!” returned Somerton, briefly. When the two Continental officers entered the cabin, they found the prisoner sitting ab- stractedly near the barred window, at the ex- treme end of the little compartment. A single eandle burned dimly on the deal-table, cast- ing a faint and flickering light upon the per- aon of the spy, who received his visitors with a faint smile, saying : « Excuse my rising, gentlemen ; ceremony is unnecessary here.” “Our visit,” answered Somerton, “is one of humanity. We have our orders from the chief in command , but we desire to be just aa well as prompt.” “ Be seated, gentlemen, if you can find the eonvenienees for so doing. y accommoda- tions are not of the best,” said the prisoner, with slight bitterness of manner. “Our errand is not to remove any feeling of doubt in our minds in regard to your iden- tity, or your guilt,” resumed Somerton, in a ho and serious voice, drawing eke and pa- per from his pocket, and epee ing the table, “Ah! This is a kind of informal examina- tion,’’ said the epy, arising and composed] snuffing the candle. “I would offer you ad- ditional Jight, but none know better than ourselves that 1 am but @ passive agent ” “You do not deny, sir, that your name is Deering?” continued the colonel, preparing to write. “TI beg lenve to correct you. My name is wot Deering,” answered the prisoner, quietly. “T advise you, young man, not to trifle with one whose only regret is, that you are not innocent,” returned Somerton, reprovingly. “The person who informed yoo that my name is the one you have mentioned, was mis taken,” answered the spy, firmly. “It was yourself that told me you were ealled Dering,” added the colonel, with a frown of displeasure. “ Never!” exclaimed the accused. “I assure you, unfortunate man, that you will gain wot bs by subterfuge so shallow!” yetorted Somerton, with earnestness, but with- out anger. “No man that knows me, ean truly say that I ever resorted to dishonorable subterfuge.” The spy was standing within a yard of Somerton, perfectly calm and collected, with- out bravado, or an apparent purpose of con- tradiction. “Do. you deliberately deny that you ac- knowledged your name to be Deering?” de- manded Somerton, in a voice that was every moment growing sterner. . “I do!” was the unhesitating reply. “Yousee,” interposed Rainford, querulous- ly, “that your sympathies for this person are wasted. He disputes a most obvious fact. He will next deny that he was chased by our dragoons, swam a river, and was ng you.” “Tf Captain Rainford puts his statement in the form of assertion, I do emphatically deny it,” answered the spy, with an unpretentious gates quite surprising and ing to examiners. “It is folly to pursue this investigation farther,” muttered Rainford. ; “ These are audacious and unwise devials,” said Somerton, with a sharper tone of rebuke, “What is the name of the lady who visited ‘ou about an hour since ?” " No lady has honored me with her pres- ence to-night,” was the prompt response. “Too cool! too cool!” eried Rainford, hing. ination wasannoyed, vexed, disappoint- Repressing the hasty words that were to fly to his lips, he went on. “Prisoner, what is your name?” . “Max Henderson,” answered the spy. Colonel Somerton took the candle from the tabie, and held it near the prisoner's face, which he examined with the closest attention. This svrutiny he extended to his person gen- ; There ean be no mistake, Rainford,” he “This isthe same man we captured |! garments are still wet.” Hirl, the Hunchback. “There is not a reasonable doubt of it,” re- plied Rainford. “Tf you are not the person that we teke you to be, how came you to be an occupant of this cabin ?” interrogated Somerton. “1 will not answer that question,” was the unsatisfactory mab “The voice, the height, the features, are the same,” muttered the colonel. “This. seems one of those cases where deception is out of the question.” “ And yet,” said the spy, “ you are not sat- isfied. You detect, you sense, you feel some- thing; it is not a certainty, it does not reach to the height of suspicion — but you are un- easy.” “Misguided man! Falsehood will not avail you; onthe contrary, it destroys that sym- gethy which otherwise your fate might have rawn forth. Despicable as J know your em- a agg to be, I confess that I am unpleas- antly disappointed in your character. Your assertions are puerile, absurd ; and when your position is considered, almost shocking,” add- ed Somerton, who covldé not sconces! his gon. tempt. “You intend to put me to death ?” The spy looked steadily at the officer, who answered : “You will be exeeuted to-morrow morning at nine o’clock.” “In your report of this transaction, whose name will appear as having suffered the ex- treme penalty of military law?” The query was put gravely, and with be- coming impressiveness. “The name of Guy Deering, the British spy!” replied the colonel, again passing the eandle before the face of the prisoner. “T trust, before the hour you have men- tioned, that it will be proved I am not Guy Deering.” “Banish the thought! It is impossible. As a Christian and a man, I would press upon you the necessity of preparation for a journey so long.” “Colonel Somerton,” repli¢") the prisoner, “TI cordially thank you for your kindness. If you could think better of me—if #3 were possible for you to look with less aversion upon one who has zever injured you—” “Injured me!” eried the colonel. “ You have injured every honest man in the Colo- nies! One more question: Have you not frequently, persistently, carried intelligence from the American lines to the enemy ?” The man who called himself Max | ender- son grew palpably pale. A storm seemed to sweep over his broad chest, agitating it like asea. He turned from Somertcn, and took several hasty turns across the room. a | guy or innocent of this charge,” he asked, buskily, “ would not my answer be the same Pf? “True! true f responded Somerton, struck by the candor of the reply. “Come life or death, ominy or escape, you can know no more of me than now. There is a seal on my lips that only One ean remove ; it will remain, whatever may hap- pen. In this world, Max Henderson expecta no justice. But go, gentlemen—go! If I bring no proot of my identity, my blood will rest upon you. Let God judge between us in the day when he shall make up His eternal awards.” “God and the Continental Congress!” said Rainford, by way of amendment, “ Your language, sir, is strange and contra- dictory,” added Somerton. “T honor honest boldness, even in an enemy; but abhor false- hood as much as I love truth.” The grating of a aaw and the strokes of a hammer crept with a muffled sound through the walls of the cabin. The spy fixed his dark, searching eyes on Somerton. “The preliminaries of death.” he ssaid- “follow fast on the heels of your examina- tion.” A bitter smile swept over the prisoner's pale lips. The colonel colored, and exhibited confu- sion. “Your generosity,” resumed the 3 “ might hate aetna? A me a few owt ee repose, uninterrupted by those dire notes of ae without stain upon your patriot m.’”’ “Repose, indeed! Innocence itself could not sleep in a situation so awful!” ~ Somerton spoke with the solemnity he 5 a a on ne ene really felt; while the prisoner’s handsome face lighted with some inexplicable emotion. The wonder and bewilderment of the colonel increased, communicating corresponding feel- ings to the practical Rainford. ““ We gain nothing,” said the latter; “and the interview is becoming uncomfortable.” “Good night, gentlemen! We.shall meet again in the murning,” said the prisoner, with his peculiar look and smile. “Whoever you are, | am sorry for you,” answered Somerton, slowly following bam ford from the cabin. Sergeant Giles was standing near the door. “Sergeant,” the eolonel began, “ you saw the hunchback—” He suddenly checked himeelf, adding, in lower voice : “Pshaw! what nonsense! There can be no mistake. "Tis the last trick of a gamester who plays for life. Drowning men eatch at straws.” As the officer walked away, he was followed by the dissonance of the saw, and the dul) sound of the hammer. He turned and be- held, with an involuntary shiver, men raising two poste with a transverse beam. He hur- ried to his quarters ; but could still see, in imagination, the skeleton frame looming grim in the moonlight. “ He that takes the devil into his boat muts ferry him across,” quoth Sergeant Giles. CHAPTER VY. THE EXECUTION. Day dawned, and the Continental eamp shook off its slumbers. There was 4 stir among officers and men. Somerton look wearily from his tent. He had passed troubled night. When, after tossing a long time, he finally fell asleep, his repose was dis- turbed by the same train of thought that had kept bim wakeful. He dreamed of his pris- oner, the young woman who had visted him, and Old Hirl, the hunchback. The colonel arose, depressed by a hea consciousness of the disagreeable duty whic the day would bring. Leaving his quarters, he took a solitary walk around the outposts of the little camp, still pursued by thoughts of Guy Deering, and the contradictory char- acter of his last interview with that misguided erson. As he slowly returned, he was met y Rainford. “I wait your orders, colone],” he said brief- ly “There is no need of haste. Let him have as much time as possible,” Somerton replied. “ That was not thought of by our enemies when Hale ascended the cart,” returned Rainford. “To their shame be it spoken!” exclaimed Somerton. Then, after a pause: “Have you seen him this morning ?”’ ~ na looked in to seo if he was there’ “How did he appear? Was he less com tradictory than last night?” “The same! the same! There was no ehange in his deportment.” “J regret it! I hoped that solitude and reflection would bring him to reason.” “On the contrary, he was firmer in his in- credible assertions than before. I really be- lieve he thinks to escape, even at this late hour. ‘Truly, his composure is incompre hensible.” “ Possibly,” said Somerton, “it may arise from a mistaken notion of duty.” “That is quite probable ; for the criminals have sometimes been the wildcg fanatics, dying—as they imagine—wartyrs to right.” < Go and ask him,” eontinned the <cione!, pie oe A , “if he wishes the consolations of religion.” “The very question I proposed. He laid his hand upon his breast, and replied that he already experienced such consolation with- in him.” “It is passing strange! Send Sergeant Giles to inform him that he has but an hour to live.” The sergeant being near, was immediately dispatched on this errand, which he fulfilled with all that military alacrity on which he prided himself. “Well?” said Somerton, interrogatively, glancing at his measenger. : “ He said,” replied Giles, “that it was more time than he expected ; and he hoped it would be more than suilicient to prove his inne. estan : Vp _—
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‘ ae Captais Rainford, never celebrated for hie —- on hearing this. made use of sun- r y expletives borderingeon profanity. Even the patient Sumerton seomed aunoyed by this reply. ‘Did he express any desire to see a clergy- man ?” that oilicer demanded. “When I ventured to hint, your honor, that he ought to have s parson to tinker u his conscience, he shook his head with a sol- emn sort o’ smile, and said: ‘ If I’ve neglect- ed my soul till now, it's sartinly too late to gave it; but if I’ve attended to it, it will net be desarted at the hour o’ death.’ Them was his words, and every one of 'em seemed to weigh the matter of a pound.” “T bave done my duty !” exclaimed Somer- ton. “Captain Kaioford, muster the drat oons. An hour is the utmost grace that can “ given. If Tarleton should get wind of what is going on, it woulda't be strange if ho should attempt to rescue. He and Cornwal- lis have been closeted more than once with Guy Deering, no doubt.” Soon the blast of a bugle was heard, follow- ed by the clauking of sabres, the rattling of spurs, the neighing of horses, and the heavy tramp of dragoons. A part of the brigade was drawn tp in the form of a hollow square around the gallows that had been erected the previous night. Inside this phalanx, a cor- responding number of more lightly armed troopers were paraded on foot. All being ready for tho terrible drama, a deep and ex- peotant silence ensued. ; Presently, Sergeant Giles entered the eabin witha file of men, and brought out the prie- pner, upon whom every eye was instantly turned. His face was somewhat flushed when he first appeared, but it soon becamo pale andcalm. He advanced firmly and stood in the fatal square, when he paused, and looked slowly around. His glance rested upon Som- n. “Tell Colonel Somerton,” he said, “that I would speak with him a moment.” His desire was at once made known to the ¢ommanding officer, who reluctantly ap- proached. ; “Mr. Deering,” he said, “I have been in- formed that. you have something to say to me.,’’ “Much! much!” answered the prisoner, with emphasis. 7 “Say on, then, for the time is brief,” said de officer. “ Brief, indeed!” said the spy, quickly. “It would seem that there ie but a short quarter of an hour before me. Although yonder orb” (he pointed to the sun) “will rise and set millions of times, J shall not see it set or rise again. How should you feel, colonel, in my situation ?” “Tf,” returned Somerton, earnestly, “I were dying in my country’s cause, with no stain o:1 my name, I should feel that the smile of God was on me.” “I comprehex3,” ~aid the prisoner, color- ing. ‘ Mr. Deering—” the colonel began. “T have told you that my name is Hender- gon,” interrupted the apy, in a decisive voice. “Henderson or Deering—for it makes little difference what I call you—if you have aught to communicate, come to the point and be brief. I am disposed to be humane; but with me duty is imperative.” Before answering, the prisoner partially turned, and looked anxiously toward the San- tee, the murmur of whose waters could be heard. Somerton noticed the action, and said, warningly : “ Young man, I solemnly believe that you are beyond human aid. td Tarleton and his legion were to appear this moment, you could not be rescued alive. A volley from my men would end all before the foremost of our ene- mies could come to the charge.” “I do not expect Tarleton,” responded the prisoner, with a smile that seemed a mockery of death. “Dol understand that you have spoken what you wish to say?” demanded the Conti- nental officer, authoritatively. “ No, no!” exelaimed the spy, with a vehe menoe that was in striking contrast to his for mer quietness. “In Heaven’s name speak, then, for the time draws near!” “God forbid! Never, never!" he cried, with more feeling than he had yet exhibited. “Your terrible situation has disordered Beadle's Dime Library. your mind,” replied Somerton, in a troubled voice, “It may so appear to you; but possibly the time may come—” He stopped, and looked once more to the south. “Some false and deceptive hope still sup- orts you. Reject it—abandon it—fling it rom you as the enemy of your future peace. Employ the few remaining moments in prayer. Yonder is the chaplain of the brig- ade; he looks anxiously this way. Permit me to summon him. He waits but for a sig- nal, and I will give it.” The colonel waved his hand, and the indi- vidual referred to quickly‘approached. In person and outward appearance, he bore small resemblance to one’s idea of a man of God. He was a large, wiry-looking personage, with brawny hands, thick neck, and swarthy fea- tures, which, instead of that softness and meek- ness generally supposed to characterize his profession, were hard and severe in their ex- pyswere Instead of prayer-book or missal, e carried a ponderous sword, and wore be- neath a leather belt a brace of pistols. The prisoner regarded him with a faint smile, and was abont to refuse his services, when some new thought changed his purpose. “Humphrey,” said Somerton, “ but a fow moments are left to this wretched man. Do for him what man may do for his fellow-man in a strait like this.’’ “T can do nothing of myself,” answered the chaplain ; * but if the Lord blesses and directs my efforts, his mind may yet be fixed on that which concerns him most.” Then to the pris- oner: “* The crime for which you are to suffer is truly heinous , but the mercy of God can reach the vilest creatures.” “ This is comfort, indeed!” retorted the spy, bitterly. “You are justly doomed to death,” con- tinued Parson Humphrey, sternly ; “ yet late repentance is better than none.” ‘‘ Leave me, worthy man; this matter is to be settled between Heaven and myself. No doubt thou art honest, but thou canst do me no good,” “ But I can direct thee to One who can, even He who fashioneth one vessel. to honor and another to dishoner. Improve these pre- cious moments in prayer and supplication ; for perchance the divine ear may not yet be closed against thee, having had merey on the peni- tent thief in the very moment of his mortal agony, which fact—” Pr Am I a thief!” said the prisoner, redden- g- “ As Paul said, I judge no man—” “ Was it Paul?” muttered the prisoner, with ® perceptible show of impatience. Somerton bit his lips, and backed his horse 8 little from the parties. “ Nay, if thou art captious, I can do noth- ing for thee; for a perverse spirit ill becomes thy condition, seeing that the word of life would but go in at one ear and out at the other—being as water spilled on the ground or pearls cast before dumb swine. ou hast much to do, and but short space in which to do it; therefore, fall upon thy knees, and, though I detest thy calling, and British gold hath a stinking savor in my nostrils, I will ay up’ such petition as an ignorant and sin- ul man may for a lost and dying brother.” “JT thank you, worthy sir,” returned the prisoner, casting another of those anxious lances toward the strip of open country that ordered the Santee. “If thou wilt speak to me of thy doctrines, I will patiently hear what thou hast to offer, though thy “p earance is more like that of a temporal so ier than a champion of the Cross.” The spy spoke with calmness; but there was evident uneasiness in his manner, and the Fa meen was exuding in a fine moisture from The Continental colonel, despite his disin- elination to do so, could not but observe him with painful attention, secretly wishing that he was far away in the discharge of more grateful duties. To him, time never passed more quickly. He beheld the sands running mpidly, and the fatal moment approaching. The stern, unpitying countenance of Parson Humphrey did not please him-—adding much to the uncomfortable feelings that oppressed “My doctrines are those of the patriarchs end apostles, of the saints, and of the fa- etn, and ts holy martyrs, and the Conti- nental Congress, and George Washi and all good patriots, and the thirteen caleten and every other Protestant country.” “George Washington!” muttered the epy. “ A good man—a good man!” “ Ay, and the leader of the armies of the Continental Israel, As Paul said—” “ The Captain of our salvation did not wear the sword,” said the prisoner, abruptly. “ Had it been the will of God and Congress, he would have carried both sword and spear, I doubt not.” a “ Alas!” cried Deering, “neither Congress nor Washington will nie. me.” “Nor would I, had I the powers of both !” retorted Humphrey, harshly. “ Give good heed to what I say. Thou observest me not, but continually turnest thine eyes to yonder clearing, as if hoping for aid from that quar- ter.” “Time is up!” said Captain Rainford. “ Sergeant Giles, attend to your duty.” A sickly pallor overspread Deering’s fea tures. “ If thou wouldst indeed serve me,” he said, in a low voice to Humphrey, “ delay the exe- cution as long as possible.” “My authority,” answered Humphrey, with unchanging severity, “is not temporal, but spiritual. And if it were, why should I delay the footsteps of justice ?” “T ask,” returned the spy, “ but ten paltry minutes!” “Those minutes are God’s, and He can give or withold them.” “To me,” added the prisoner, earnestly, “ten minutes are worth ten worlds! Nay, I will abate the time one-half—grant me five!” “ Were it for the good of thy soul, a re- quest might perhaps avail; but thou givest no evidence of repentance, and thy urgency ariseth from a natural shrinking from death.” “Thou doest me injustice ; 1 swear to thee thou dost! I can die as well as thou. There has been a fatal error, which ashort delay may correct.” “ Wretched man, I fear thy whole life has been a fatalerror ; but as mercy is the duty of a Christian, I will speak to Colonel Somerton, in thy behalf,” said the chaplain. “Leave mel” he exclaimed, “Thy heart has never been touched by human eympa- th eve, % soldier advanced and tied the prisoner’s hands behind him. “ Colonel Somerton,” said Humphrey, “#k low the prisoner a few moments for prayer.” The officer made an affirmative motion the head. Thé chaplain drew close to Deering, 5a 3 TPall back, men—fall back a little. This unhappy man would perform his last act of devotion undisturbed,’ Sergeant Giles and his men respectfully ra- tired a few steps. “ Kneel — kneel!” whispered the chaplain and Deering knelt with his strange spiritual adviser. e latter raised his hands in the attitude of prayer, and began his pious pe- tition. His low-breathed and earnest suppli- cations were continued some time, and when he seemed drawing to @ close, Deering whis pered “Pray on, pray on! Thow mayest, — chance, bring me salvation in more ways one.” The chaplain prolonged his invocation. “Ths parson is long at his prayers,” mut tered Rainford. “He makes this scone un- necessarily tedious.” “Jt is little that we give him,” answered Somerton, looking at the prisoner; “ but it is much that we take. If Humphrey’s harsh surgery ean help him any, I do not mind waiting 4 little.” “ By Heavens! the parson has ceased, and the spy has taken up the strain!” exclaimed the captain. This was true; for the instant Humphrey ronounced the closing word Amen, wed his head reverently, and said - “Good sir, thou art more kind than I thought thee Now I will ask mercy for my- self; and, while I supplicate the divine vor, do thou cast thine eyes occasionally to- ward the Santee, and listen with all the inten- ge th Rainen oh e tableaux was now deeply im . The men on horseback and om fot Mise gal gal — ae centre; Somerton and sitting like statues upon their horses Deer- ing on his knees, hands secured bebind
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Hirl, the Hunchback. 7 him. and the stony figure of Humphrey be- side him, with the sun streaming radiantly over all He is long-winded” said the impatient Rainford, at length. “It is but a pretext to in time He has not the courage to walk up and die like a man” The words of the captain, though spoken in alow tone reached the ears of Deering. who ye ig quickly to his feet. He turned with hing eyee to give a haughty reply ; but changed bis purpose with manifest effort. He breathed hard, and his chest heaved. ‘d poetry said Colonel Somerton, “we Save granted you every grace that Christian mea ae give.” Then to Sergeant Giles " Let the exeevtion proceed -' “JT will remember it, colonel,’ answered Deering, impressively “ Not long—not .ong!'’ muttered Giles, ‘ for one’s memory is dull after being hanged. There is neither device nor wisdom in the ve.” Deering Jeaned upon the chaplain, ond walked slowly to the gallows; but his eyes wandered with imexpressible earnestness to- ward the Santee. Bending to the ear of his ghostly adviser, he whispered : * I heard the tramp of a horse’s feet.” “ Nay, it was an illusion of the evil one to divert thy mind from that whieh concer.s thy everlasting salvation. Fight agains: it, un- 7 y man,” replied Humphrey. in those co i severe tones that characterized his min- wstry. “| hear it again. It is thou who art de ecived ” The spy now stood at the foot of the gal- lows ; the fatal rope oscillated in the air over his head. A dragoon seized it to adjrst it sbout the prisoner's neck, but he recoiled from the contact with infinite disgust. “ It ia not for me!” he cried, with a glance dike lightning at the offender. “1 was uot born to such infamy.” There was a stir and murmur among the dragoons. *‘A horseman! a horseman!—a messer r! a messenger !” ran from mouth to mouth very eye was turned expectantly to the San. tee, and fixed upon a horse and rider. The person of the latter was thrown forward in the saddle, as if impatient of his progress, whilo his steed was covered with sweat, and cast the foam in white flakes from his mevth The. generous beast shot forward hie an arrow, and. thundering up o the Jragoons, stagger- ed and fell. * Hold there * hold, in God's name |” shout: ed the messenger. disengaging himself from the stirrups, and waving o letter over his head. - “Here is «ne @fficer in command,” said Rainford. ~‘ What has happened? - Make known your business.” “There has been 8 mistake. This letter will explain all. It is for Colonel Somerton, anewered the messenger, panting like a dog wearied in the chase. Somerton took the ietter from the unstead ory that proffered it, and broke the seal. It wend : * My Dap Coronat. Stay the execution of the per gon now in your custody, You labor under a singu: lar pring tyne in regard to his identity, Guy Deering, the British spy, was seen this morning by me and several of my officers at my present headquarters at Black Swamp. There was no mistake respecting his personality—having had a full view of him for some minutes. I ordered six of my most experienced scouts to pursue and take him. He permitted them ta approach almost within pistol-shot, when, waving ‘Js hand derisively, he plunged into the forest, and was soon fost sight of. On the spot where he had stood, a pa per was found, on which was written in pencil: © "s\n mel Tarleton is coming to take the Swamp Fox.’ This Announcemen strock me as being very singular , but it was doubtless a piece of brayado on his part—for know that those who have not the power of iujur- us frequently resort to threats for indemnity. The person of Deering is we!l known to at least twenty men in my brigade ; and very nearly that number are ready to swear to his identity—as I am myself. So ou perceive, my dear colonel, that it would not be Ton to execute your prisoner without further investi- gation. Keep him, therefore, in custody until his guilt or Innocence shall be more fully established, “ You had better break up your camp and move far- ther the Santee, where roving oi tories are posite. hom every species of outrage unon the defence- dess inhabitants. Francis Manion, “P.S.—An eccentric old hunchback has recently @upplied me with some excellent swords, of which I atood greatly in aeed. I can commend bis workman- ship. F. M.” “ Stop the execution! Remand the prison- er, and place a guard over him!” cried Som- erton,. ing this missive It was observed by Sergeant Giles that this order was given with much promptness and heartiness, as if that officer was performing a pleasing duty The man whose identity was involved in such doubt glanced at Captain Rainford with a quiet smile of triumph, and marched silent- task to the cabin, in charge of the ser- geant. The dragoons looked at each other in mute bewilderment—none knowing definitely what had happened to change the course of events, and produes this unexpected reprieve. Som- erton and Rainford retired slowly from the ground, in a state of doubt and uncertainty quite as perplexing as that which prevailed among the privates. CHAPTER VL ‘ cob ed GRINDLB. **Go "long, Crazy! go “long!” “Here acti the pak 10, of the San- tee,” said ane Giles, looking up. “A strangs old body is he. He carries hia forge on his back.” * Perhaps it’s a powder magazine ; it’s large enough at any rate,” responded Tom Thorn- ton. “Git up, Isay! What you ereepin’ along that way for? Come, creetur, come!” The swordmaker tugged at the reins, and see-sawed the bits; and baving already passed the guards, trundled up to the spot where the sergeant and Tom Thornton were standing. The former, being mischeviously inclined and something of a wag, said te the latter . *‘Sce how I'll quiz this honest old feller” Then to the hunchback, whe was dismounti trom bis cart, slowly and clumsily . “ Heerd the news. mister *” “Can T make shoes? No, it isnt my busi- ness. Make ‘em for Crazy ; but couldn’t do it for the whoie brigade, ‘tisn't likely,” answer- od Hirl n 9 screeching voice, se I say, have you heerd the news ?” shouted ics. “Don't hear much of anything. Don’t speak in a whisper when you talk with me. he left ear’s well ‘nough. far as I know; but the right one is all tore to bits. as ‘twere, by troubles, and tials, and exposure to heat, and cold, and hard work, and a scoldin’ wife, and 4 thing and another. What's happened, e ” “General Washington's surrendered ; and the Britishers are going te put bim into an iron cage, and carry him to England. Goin’ to be terrible times here, I reckon. The country’ll be swept by sword and bagonet!” “A little louder, mister- What's the good o’ mutterin’ down in your throat arter that fashion? Can't you remember my infarmit from one minute to another?” said Hirl, peevishly, beginning to detatch Crazy from the cart. “Don't want me to yell mysed to death, do as I say Washington's been taken, and iberty’s gone to the dogs, and the Continental Congress has been surprised and bagoneted. We shall ajl be eut up finer’n. emokin’ tobac-_ ecr. You'll probably be hashed with one o’ your own ewords. The best thing you can do, is to hiteh up your old hoas, and drive es far as ever you can, without stoppin’ |” “Heerd about that airly this mornin’, didn't surprise me an artom. _ I've got later news than that. The general's escaped, and a new Congress isin session. Come down to- day to sharpen ye up a trifle. Got all my tools in my cart—anvil, bellows, charcoal, hammers, tongs, and sich. Jest send round and tell the men to bring in their battered weapons, and I'll put’em in such trim as they never was afore. Step up, Crazy, step up! You move as if you’s fifteen year eld, ‘stead o' ‘leven,” The old man pulled his mere from the shafts, and relieved it of the patched and worn harness, “Nice animil to ride on parade!” eaid Giles. “No, I ha’n't got one made,” replied Hirl, in the most innocent and unconscious map- ner, “T remarked that it was a fine dragoon horse! Them ere bones would do tremenjus execution among the inemy, if you should rush the critter right into the ranks.” “Jes’ so I don’t like mischevious pranks. My real name is Hirley—cut down to Hirl for short—but ill-mannered people eall me Old Hirl, Deef Hirl, C Hirl, and sich. How- somnever, that don’t disturb me. I go in for Washington and the Continental Congress, make swords, sharpen the weepons of the fightin’ fellers, and mind my own business, rf I hadn’t the neuralagy the rheumatics, and other eperdemics, I'd go right into the ranks myself, and cut my bigness through, ifit cost . me a fit o’ sickness. I would, by Satan! - The fact is,” added the old man, flourishi his cart-whip spasmodieally over his hb “these ere rotten Britishers are gittin’ teo rampaginous and opstripulous to live with im any kind o’ deceney; and the bloody tories are ten times worse nor they be. If I’s on'y @ young man, or if the onnateral eperdemies would Tet up a little, ’'d carve my name on the eagle o’ liberty, or worry myself into a a fever in the attempt.” Having ended this determined speech, the swordmaker drew a halter from among the varicties of his cart, and fastened his horse to a corner of the cabin in which the spy was confined. “That's a brave speech,” quoth Sergeant Giles ; “ but,” he rene My snag. | to the old man’s back—* you earry too much weight for 8 soldier, who dislikes to go into e with more than a day's rations.” “ Make not light of my infarmities!” retort- ed the hunchback, with a quick and—Thornton thought—menacing look at Giles, “The old and focble have enough to bear, without the ibes of the young and ill-mannered. But fariky, I s’pose, is nateral to youth. Look at this arm, will ye ?” The swordmaker held up a brawny arm. “This member,” he went on, “ is fastened to an old trank that’s been afflicted with neuralagy and rheumatics ; but there’s a pow- erful sight o’ strength in it yet.” ' It would seem that Giles was of the same opinion, for he prudently placed two paces between himself and the swordmaker. “JT remember once, when a lad,” resumed Hirl, “in the playfulness of my strength, I seized a lubberly feller, a head taller than my- self, in this way”—the ewordmaker grasped the sergeant by the arm with an earnestness that was far from pleasant, judging by the ex- pression of Giles—* and,” continued the nar- rator, “shook him in this mantier; and not content with this, in mere bravado, gave him several lusty thwacks with a stick; the same as if I should lay on to ye with my cart-whip arter this fashion.” The eccentric old man suited the action to - the description, and the sergeant, soldier as - he was, capered about with pain; while Thornton, and several others, laughed ite moderately. “ No more, old man, no more, or I shall do you a mischief!” roared the sergeant, red with - anger and mortification.” . colonel Somerton, who had been an un- noticed observer of this scene, now em from behind the cabin, and demanded, with asperity : ‘“« What means this disorder? Shame upon you, sergeant, to lift your hand against a weak old man!” , “ Weak! hand!” stammered Giles. “Not . a hand—no, not so much as @ finger have I _ laid on his scarecrow body ; but disciplyne or no disciplyne, your honor, I’ll thrash the old iron-pounder within an inch of his life, if he plays any more of his games on me. What's sarse for the goose is sarse forthe gander, A ~ short horse is soon curried, and a little man is soon licked.” “ Howd’ do, kurnil ?” eried tue sword- maker. ‘Been havin’ a little sport 'mong ourselves here, all in good-natur’, you know. Showed the eorporil how I used to thrash the big boys when I went to school. Wild feller, I was, then, and—though I say it myself—e monstrous favorite ’mong the gals, too. But that’s neither here nor there, and business is business, all the world over. I’ve brought my tools, and I’m goin’ right to work. Ican’t fight for liberty; but I can hammer for't. So bring out your damaged weepons soon's ay o’ that en like. Corporil, jest seize hol and set it down here.” “T’m a sergeant in the Continental army!” - said Giles, with dignity, standing very erect, and placing his hand < his sword, “Surgeon, are ye? Well, don’t know as I want anything in your line. The neura and rheumatics can't be cut out, cau they In course not. If you won't work beri s 04 call some o’ your understrappers to help me put up that little tent that you see loaded om the cart. Shall keep the anvil ringin’ al ‘ u *¢ = £
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4m SP}: a a nn a ay to-night, 'f there’s anything to do—and I'll warrant there is. Tinkered up Marion’s Brigade in good shape. They’ll whittle the tory fellers monstrous when they meet ’em ag’in.”” Then to Colone) Somerton, to whom his garrulity gave no opportunity of speaking: “Hung the spy high as Haman, I e’pose, ha’n’t ye ?” “He has not yet received his deserts,” re- lied Somerton, without elevating his voice to e proper pitch. “Yes, it hurts. Hangin’ allers hurts, I be- lieve,” said Hirl, with philosophical confi- dence, dragging the little tent from the cart. “There has been a most unaccountable mistake,” shouted the colonel, approaching the hunchback, with an economical! design re- specting his lungs. “Eh? Neck didn’t break? Didn't give him fall enough. Died hard, Tl warrant. What a pity ‘tis we have to kill off young men with so much life in ’em, when sich is 20 much wanted, ’stead o’ worthless old hulks like me!” “He that blows in the dust fills his own eyes, and he that talks to a post must furnish ears,’”’ said Giles, oracularly. ** Jes’ so!” responded Hirl, who had a won- drous faculty of hearing the last word, or something approaching it in sound. “As I teld ye, my right one is tore to bits, and that’s why ill-mannered people—” “ Hullo!” interrupted Giles. “ What in the world is comin’now? Herecomes the mother of the witches and the devil’s own camp- follower. Wishes are horses when beggare ride.” These remarks were called forth by the ap- arance of two females on horseback. The Rueciioge was @ woman past the bloom of life ; while the other, who rode a little in the rear, was a mulatto-girl of some eighteen or twen- bE Both were mounted upon stout and steady-paced animals, evidently used to the drudgery of the plantation. Mistress and maid immediately drew the attention of all the idlers about camp, one of whom volun- teered to conduct her to the person she was in search of—the commanding officer—in whose presence she soon found herself. If the colo- ne] had formed the epinion that the sword- maker of the Santee was the most singular individual he had met with in South Carolina, he was now inclined to divide the honor with the woman before him. Her dress and de- portment, and even her entire personality, seemed to belong to the past century. Her rments gave proof of both age and service. ch particular article of her toilet it would be tedious to describe ; but all united to give her the ony of an antiquated spinster. Her face—which had, by some means, receded into the depths of a bonnet of immense size —presented no very disagreeable points for ériticism to pounce upon ; but, notwithstand- , was invested with a species of sourness that could be felt and noticed without the possibility of description. Her e¢omplexion was white to the verge of ghastliness, while over her corrugated forehead fluttered coarse, gray hair, which had crept from beneath a v er eap with an ample border of lace, that, its simple severity, repelled familiar- ity. Her heavy eyebrows were gray; but the wonder of her visage was the eyes, which shone like two dark gems, imparting a weird ht to her entire face. Her black gown was ort and scant, displaying small ankles and thick-soled, high-heeled shoes. Her hands were covered with leather gauntlets, and she held the rein like one accustomed to equestrian exercise. Her attendant was, as we have stated, a mulatto-girl—althongh we did not remark thet she was comely, which was the case. Her features were quite as regular as those of the white lords of the soil, painted over by Nature with a pale, soft gat which is pe air to a dingy whi Her curling ks were partly concealed by « turban set jauntily upon her head. Her gown of blue- and-white cotton appeared to satisfy her am- bition as fully as if it had come from the silk. looms of India. ss her was , wartd] nearly as as herself, ingeniously D te the aide No one considered these parties more at- tentively than the swordmaker, who paused fu the midst of his labors to stare at them. The elderly female fixed her keen eyes on Bomerton, who bowed, and said : ’ “I wait your commands, madam.” Beadle's Dime Library. The woman dropped the reins, disengaged her foot from the stirrup, and slid to the ground, disdaining the proffered hand of the colonel. “Can't stop to be helped—allers help my- self. No time to spend shilly-shallying about useless ceremonies. My name is Betsey Grin- die. Live a few miles down the river. Half- sister to Squire Redmond. Brought some socks for the sogers. Saddled the horses, and trotted up with my yeller gal Meg. Ina ’maz- in’ hurry! Meg !”—turning abruptly to the agen hop down spry and take off the undle.” Betsey Grindle moved impaticntly toward her maid, exhibiting to the lookers-on a most extraordinary hitch in her gait. “ Witches allers go with a hitch,” muttered Giles. “It hasn't teen long since she rode a broomstick, I’ll be bound!” The movements of Meg being rather dila- tory, Dame Grindle quickened them by a smart eut of a long riding-switch which she carried in her hand. “Laws, missus! what a takin’ you’s in! Allus in a hurry, you am. ‘Deed, I can’t move no quicker, missus !”’ expostulated Meg. ** Really, this is very considerate, Mrs. Grin- dle,” the colonel began. “T’m not a mis, sir!” replied the lady, eurtly. ‘I’m plain Betsey Grindle, and mis- tress of my brother’s household. I didn’t jolt all the way up here on a hard-goin’ horse and a ricketty eaddle jest to hear ye say: Thank ye, mum!’ I want ye to divide these things amcrg your men fur’s they'll go, tell- in’ ‘em they’re from Betsey Grindle, and no cowards must stan’in’em. Meg, you lazy, idle, good-for-nothin’ baggage! what are you stoppin’ and starin’ at the soger fellers br? Haven’t I told you a thousand times over that time is money, and not a minute must run to waste? A’n’t the wheels o’ time a rollin’ and rollin’ as fast as they can?” “T's lookin’ at the handsome unicorns, Miss Bessy!" said Meg, apologetically, winking roguishly at Giles. * How dare you look at the uniforms! I'l] teach you to look at uniforms when the wheels o’ time are rollin’ us away at sich a mo*strous rate. There’s for you, you jade!” Betsey Grindle gave her dependent another stroke acrose the shoulders; and then pro- duced a large anuff-box, took a pinch herself, and then significantly held the box toward the offending Meg, who made a wry face, shrugged her shoulders, and reluctantly took a@ few grains of the obnoxious powder between her thumb and finger. “Nose!” said Miss Betsey, impefiously. Meg's hand made a slow journey toward the organ so laconically mentioned by her mistress. “ She hates it,” said the latter, explanator- uy, to the colonel. “It’s a way that I have of correctin’ lier faults, which are legion ; and the most abominable of which is her entire ignorance of the motions of the wheels o’ time.” ‘ “ Karshew !” sneezed Meg, which action was followed by a grin irresistibly ludicrous. Somerton smiled—the dragoons laughed. “Time,” observed the colonel, gravely, perceiving the hobby of Dame Grindle, “is truly not a thing to be trifled with ; for, be it ever so ill-spent, we cannot recall it to live it over.” The swordmaker, meantime, had drawn near Betsey Grindle; and was continuing, from a cluser point of observation, the seru- tiny which he fiad begun at a distance. “ Squire Redmond’s sister a’n't ye, mum ?” he said, era | “Have seen ye at the lantation, though my face mayn’t be familiar e,” Passa Grindle turned suddenly upon the interrogator, whose simple words had evi- a exeited some interest in her mind. “ Don’t remember seein’ ye durin’ the whole course o’ my life. Have so much to do that I get precious little opportunity to notice folks that come to our place.” “Folks well? How's the young women? Used to know Judith. Nice gal! nice gal! Knew who used to hitch his horse to her father’s door, but I won't call no names. He’s took to evil courses, they say, sinoe. British gold oughter be like p’ison to an hon- est man.” Dame Grindle’s ghastly face became, for a moment, red, and her large eyes seemed to emit sparks of fire. Se “You're not his judge, old man; and, let me tell you, you’re speakin’ lightly of one—” Betsey Grindle stopped. “Yes, you say truly: he was an undutifa} son, although I can say, without p’evarioation, that he loved the gal. ‘Twasn’t common love, neither; but that kind that never gees out, either by fasting or prayer, but laste to the eend. The poor soul used to exclaim: 'I¢ she on’y knowed me as I am! If she could on’y read my motives! But she can’t—she won't!’ Ah, Goody Grindle, you'd oughter beerd him !” By this time the spinster was pale again. A mist and dimness floated before ber eyes She gazed at the swordmaker with wonder- ful earnestness. *] forbid you to speak his name!" she said, with emotion. “My name is Hirl, thongh ill mannered a eall me Old Hirl, Deef Hirl, Crazy Hirl, and sich,” piped the hunchback.” ‘* Colonel Somerton,” said Dame Grindle, turning sharply upon that officer, “ take these things away, if you want ’em, and make judicious distribution of ’em among your dra- goons. Meg! stop grinnin’, and think of the wheels o’ time that are every minute rollin’ ye to your grave.” “ Karshew !” responded Meg. “In behalf of my dragoons, I thank you, Miss Grindle. God knows the poor fellowe need help !” said Somerton, with wernth. “Oh, sir, that’s all understood! Don’t waste the minutes, for they're ’mazin’ short, and go quicker this year nor they did last. There! my business with you is done. Good day, colonel! Don’t eay anything more to ‘me, *eause words don’t cost nothin’, and stockin’s do. Next time you meet the Britishers, give ’em an extra cut or two for me. That's all J ask.” The spinster at that moment appeared to become conscious that many eyes were fas- tened upon her. “Go off, you rude clowns! Didn't you never see a woman afore? Ruther run the g’antlet than be stared at this way. Paok off, the whole of ye, or not another sock wil} ye git o’ me, if I live to be as old as Methu- salum. Oughter be fightin’, too, when time is so precious. There's tories and Britisherr enough to keep ye busy every blessed min- ute.”’ Somerton made a gesture to such of the dragoons as the scene had drawn together; and they retired, much amused. e then ordered Corporal Thornton to earry the pask- age to his quarters. i” “If you wish refreshments, or if I van de you any courtesy,” the colonel began. “Don’t talk to me of ‘refreshment and courtesy,’ when there’s sich doin’s through- out the length and breadth of the land! ou 8’ ITean stop to eat and drink, and ear fine speeches, when there’s so much knittin’ to do, and your men eenamoat out to the weather for coats and breeches, and the Lord on’y knows who's goin’ to make ‘em, or where they’re to come from? Mornin’, sir, mornin’!" “Good morning,” responded the colonel, and walked away. No one remained near Miss Grindle but the swordmaker, who, for the last few minutes, had been remarkably busy in adjusting hie tent. She advanced directly "von nim with that extraordinary hitch. “« What do you do?” she demanded, shortly. “ Pooty well, I thank ye. The neuralagy sometimes brings me up with a round turn, but I’m quite toler’ble now,” squeaked Hirl. “Meg, you limb, stop laughin’.” “'Tan’t my fault, deed, missus. Couldn't help it 'f I's el’ar white, I’s so tickled,” pro- tested the girl, rubbing the back of one hand and then the other against her gown, and wriggling like a fish out of its element. sd How vexatious !”” murmured Dame Grin- dle—then elevating her voice till it vied im shrillness to the whistling of the wind; “ Who are you, and what are you about here?” “I'm called the Swordmaker of the Santee. My proper name is Hirley ; but ill-rmnnered people call me Hirl, Old Hirl, Deaf Hirl, Cra- irl, and sich. I’ve brought my anvil and forge to sharpen up the aeons of the brigade. I’m liberty man, mostly, and cam hammer away from mornin’ till night, for my trouble by thinkin’ what a powerfal sight o’ mischief my work’ll do to the ime- | miea @’ Congress. You've ehanged « good
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| | — Hirl, the Hunchback. 9 ‘eat since I see ye, Goody Grindle—growed old monstrous iast! There wa'n’t half so many crows’ feet on your face # year ago; but your eyes hold their own amazin’! Lord! what work they used to make with the sparks when you's a gal!” Old Hirl rubbed the palms of his hands to- gether and laughed good-naturedly, nodding and shaking his Meg ‘cackled in con- rt. “Noss!” said Grindle, presenting the dreaded snuff-box to her too-susceptible attendant, who immediately supp her mirth. “You have spoken of Guy Deering,” cried the spinster, directing her conversation to the h back. “Not by name, leastwise. 'Tisn’t a name that’s pop’lar here.” The swordmaker looked searchingly at Dame Grindle. “Is he alive? Is hes prisoner?” The swordmaker glanced cautiously around. “ Both, both!’ he answered, in a voice that made the woman start. “Is there hope fer him? Will he escape ?” “There is hope for all, Goody Grindle ; con- sequently there’s hope for Guy Deering,” re- plied Hirl, pressing stent peg into the ground ' with his foot. ~ “ But — but — ave you my friend — his friend ?” queried tLe spinster, with increas- ing earnestness. ** Your friend Iam ; and I am both his friend and his enemy,” “Where is he?” Betsey Grindle’s voice trembled. She pointed to the cabin signifi. eantly. Two armed men were pacing to and fro before it. “ There’s @ prisoner there,” said Hirl, vaguely. “It is Guy Deering!” exclaimed Miss Grin- e. “He is there and he is not,” replied the swordmaker, with a glance at bis interrogator. “Ye is there, and he is not !”” repeated the spinster. “Idon’tcomprehend. Is he much known te you?” “ Well, well; yet in one sense he is a stran’ ger. He went ost distracted for the love of Judith Redmond.” The voice of the swordmaker was less squeaking and his language better. “What! Did he make aconfidant of you! Did he talk of his love to an old man in his do ? ‘Tis false! ’tis false!” “Say what "a like, Betsey Grindle—say what you like !” retorted Hirl, petulantly, and falling into his old manneragain. “I know- ed the youth, and I loved him afore he took British gold.” How penetratingly the old man looked at her “.Thou art a slanderous villain!” muttered the eee in an undertone. “All the world eay it of him, but I will not believe it.” en in a Jouder voice + “He is in this eabin! Will you—can you, help me save him ?” ame Grindle was agitated—her color fre- quently changing. «“ He was saved this mornin’ from exeeu- tion, perhaps he will be saved ag’in. What would you give to see him at liberty ?” a eyes of Hirl grew more searching and bright. ean the world—sife itself!” cried Miss Grindle, with singular emphasis. “ Bless your good heart, Dame Grindle!” anid the old man, fervently. “I think better of ye for't; and if I should ever meet Guy Deering, I'l) tell him how airnest the a’nt of Judith was about his safety. It'll please the anfortinit lad, who—not'standin’ his dreadful trade—has govd p’ints o’ character. If he thinks he's right in betrayin’ his country, I don’t know as he'll have any deeper place in perdition than sume others who think contra- Wise.”’ “Merciful Heaven! Must I hear this,” ex- slaimed the women, “without the power of > ntradicting it! How I sometimes hope— =°W I sometimes fear !” The hunchback gazed at her without speak- ‘ag. His wrinkled face beamed with various emotions, 7 You are a strange being,” added Miss Grindle, presently. “I must and will trust you. You have raised your tent so near the cabin where he is confined, that you can reach forth your hand and touch it.” tever you say to me, Guy Deering hall hear,” anawered the hunchback, with pe- euliar emphasis. : “Old man, look at me! Keep faith with me as you hope to have it kept with you in the most serious things that concern your life andhappiness. Take this saw and this purse: pass the first through a crevice to Deering : put the last in your pocket for the benefit of your wife and children. You have said that you shall work late to-night; do so in Heav- en’s name! The noise of your hammer will drown the noise of the saw. It is but asmall favor for you togrant, but much and momen- tous in its consequences to him.” While the woman was thus eloquently speak- ing in behalf of the spy, she drew 4 smail saw and a purse from beneath her gown, and prof- fered them to the hunchback. He received the saw, but not the purse. Tears stood in his eyes. “ Woman! woman! take away your gold! I can sarve a feller-creetur without bein’ brib- ed to doit. I can, and I will.” “ And you will give him the saw ?” “ Be as sure that it shall reach the hands of Guy Deering as that you see it in mine.” “Good, kind, generous soul! God forever bless you! Ah! how can we be conquered when even poor men like yor spurn gold?” | “ Spurn gold!” repeated the old man, with a sardonic laugh. “Some say”—he turned from her to hide his emotion. ‘“ Should I see the hunted youth,” he added, anon, in a shak- ing voice, “might I take the liberty to tell him that your niece thinks a deal of him, and don’t b’lieve more’n half that is said consarn- in’ him? Might I tell him? It would so cheer him—so lighten, as ’twere, his breakin’ heart.” The swordmaker had by this time turned quite around again, and stood face to face with her, with clasped hands. “You may! you may! Assure him that Judith Redmond—that is, tell him that m thoughtless niece loves him, in spite of—of—” “Hush! Sergeant Giles comes this way!” interposed Hirl, in a whisper. “Twas very kind o’ you, mistress,” he wenton, in his usual piping tones, “to bring ’e1n to camp, for half o’ the brave lads haven't a stockin’ to their feet. They leave bloody tracks sometimes, mum, when they’re pursued by the inemy and when they’re pursuin’ ’em, too; all for the want of somethin’ to wear. I hope you'll come often on arrants of marcy like this, and the blessin’s of the soger lads will foller ye to the last day of your life.” “A rare couple!” muttered Giles, as he drew near. “One with a mountain on his back, the other with a hitch in her gait. Pity they hadn’t eome together when they’s younger !” “ Good-bye to ye, Mr. Swordmaker. Your sands seem to be e’enamost run out, but you can do a good ’eal yet, if you improve the time. I'm in a terrible hurry, for there's. a ower o’ work to do when I git home.” “ Birds of a feather flock together,” quoth Giles. “They appear to be very well mean- in’ people, but they’d worry me into a con- sumption if I saw ’em often.’ “ Meg, horses! Horses, Meg!” said Dame Grindle. “Nice mulatto gal! Eyes like giass beads, and teeth like pearls. What an old witch for a mistreas!” added Giles. “Meg, hand!” Meg held her hand for her mistress to mount from, and received a suggestive stroke from her switch as reward. She then leaped nimbly to her own horse ; and after casting a coquettish yen at the sergeant, ambled away after ame Grindle. CHAPTER VIL. THE SWORDMAKER AT HIS TASK. The hammer of the swordmaker was heard till the small hours of the night. Various kinds of weapons passed through his indus- trious fingers. Battered swords, blunted and bent bayonets, and even damaged pistol and gun-locks, were sent to his tent for repairs, Several good-natured fellows offered to assist him in his labors, which proffers were prompt- ly rejected. « Every one to his trade,” said the old man. “T might as well mount one of your heavy dragoon horses and go sogerin’, as for people that never struck hot iron in their lives to think o’ bein’ any sarvice to me. If temper- in’ a sword or restorin’ a good edge to a blunt- ed weapon is so mighty easy, there wouldn't be no need o’ my trampin’ from one part the country toanother. Jest keep out o"my way ; that’s all I'll ask. Out o’ my tent, every one on ye!” So the hunchback thumped, and. blowed, and filed, and polished all alone. The senti- nels that guarded the prisoner looked in oe- easionally, and when the swordmaker got tired, took a friendly drink with him from a large flask, which, whatever fiuid it contained, was clearly much to their liking; for their calls became more frequent as the night progressed. Old Hirl grew elated with his potations, snatches of songs as he bent over the anvi and even ran from beneath his awning to joke with the guards, who no longer observed straight lines in walking, but performed their evolutions about the cabin in a zigzag and staggering manner. “Ah!” said Hirl, smacking his lips, “there’s nothin’ like a little sperrit te cheer the heart and brace up the narves! Jest give them dragoon creeturs enough on’t and they'll make Cornwallis start out o’ Car- olina like a thief from an orchard.” Hirl’s back was braced againet the cabin when he made this remark. ~~ “ What you whisperin’ about?” asked one of the sentinels, in a thick and almost unin- igible voice; but strangely enough tha deaf man heard him, and retorted : “ Sentinel, you’re drunk! Keep movin’ or you'll be down.” “It’s a lie, old man! You can’t git ons & Somerton’s dragoons drunk. The liberty principle overcomes the drunk principle.” Some “ principle” was visibly overcoming the physical system of the sentinel, for his legs were rapid!> growing unworthy of confi- dence. The swordmaker shook his flask and , held it up between his eyes and the moom, in an abveurd enaesvor to see how its contents « had stood their united assaults. « Another drop, old gentleman,” solilequiz- ed Hirl, “another drop, and then to your work. Don’t make a to’ yourself, old * Hirl, but ’tend to your hamruerin’, and blowin’, ~ and let them make fools of themselves as will.” * The hunchback shook the vessel; the sen- . tinel heard the musical sound, and stretched ~ forth his hand. - a me, man; ge oo manners,” _ said Hirl, playing wi ‘oon’s im - tience b toldvog the flask an annoyingly nae 5 time to his mouth. fe “ You're heroes, every one of ye!” he ram- ;- bled on, suffering the sentinel to take the flask. ‘ “ Somerton’s a hero, and the cap’n’s a hero, and you're ahero. Hooray for the heroes! ( You'll wear gold shoulder-knots one of these | days ; and all the young women will cry out: ‘ F 8 dashin’ soger-boy he is !’” ¥ The swordmaker was interrupted by a fit of he next looked out, one was leaning Pon a. post, in a sound sleep; while the other was ing to brace himself up with his musket, but making some mistake in his .caleulations, © fell to the ground, from which he did not at temp to arise. { “Sleep, poor lads, sleep!” muttered the - sinapdnadinn. “ It's little harm yourslumber'l] do your country.” ; The old man spoke and seriously, \Without any signs of inebriation. “ To-morrow night,” he added, turning to his work, “ ye may rest on a different bed ; for iff mistake not, there’ll soon be fighting; and - Somerton isn’t the man to run.” There was a striking change in the sword- | makcr’s voice and manner. His drunkenness was gone. His countenance had an expression of dee thought. He stood a few moments over . his anvil, apparently forgetful of everything ~ eroundbim. Presently hesighed, andtook up . his hammer. é “Thus it must be!” he murmured. “ The imputation must remain , the infamy cannot ; be lifted. Well! one serves his country in one way, a.other in another. He is the friend to liberty who suffers most for it.” st s: & Foe, ? J
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fa « ‘The swordraaker began to hammer and sing “The hour is here, the moon shines cloar, The sentinels are sleeping ; Be of good cheer, and do not fear— God hath usin his keeping!” The hunchback suspended the strokes of hia hammer, and sang these lines in a clear, distinct voice, with his face turned to the cab- in. There was a muffled rap on the wall. “ Then work away while work you may, And keep the hammer going ; You must not stay till break of day— Old Hirl, keep at your blowing.” There was another knock on the inner wall of the cabin. The noise of the forge was resumed with undiminished vigor, and continued without in- termivsion for an hour. The old man repeat- ed the last verse of his song, and listened ; there was no sound on the cabin wall. He east from him the hammer and the weapon he was mending, exclaiming : “Thank God! my task is done.” CHATER VIII. A NIGHT ATTACK—THE CYPRESS SWAMP. Betsey Grindle, the spy, and the sword- maker, were strangely mixed in the mind of Somerton that night; they walked into the chambers of his rest, performing all sorts of antics there, and troubling him not a little. All these characters were in some manner con- nected with Cornwallis, and Tarleton, and tory partisans. From s dream more distressing than its predecessors, the Continental officer awoke, and sprang to his feet. For a moment, he was conscious of nothing save the darkness and dimness of his tent. Vis perceptions be- coming clearer, he looked out and beheld the dying camp-fires, and the dull glimmer of arms stacked near them. The slow tread of sentinels reached his ears. He was returning to his couch to court more refreshing sleep, when it struck him that the air was unusualiy loaded with smoke. The circumstance star- tled him at first; but quickly recollecting that several fires were still burning, he believed that was a sufficient explanation of the fact. He did not, however, lie down again ; but, seat- ing himself upon @ camp-stovl, began to re- volve new plans of operation against the ene- my: He was soon profoundly absorbed in these calculations, which possibly might have employed hig brain until sunrise, had not the wind hurled a puff of smoke into his face. He instantly arose, and hearing a dull and ominous roar, enatched his sword and cap, and ran from the tent. Glanecing toward the cabin where the sup- ositious Deering had been placed for safe eopingi he saw long tongues of flame darting from the roof. He bounded toward the strue- ture, filled with resentment and surprise. He atambled over a figure ; it was one of the men who had charge of the prisoner, and who roused himself, muttering a drunken objur- ation on whoever had disturbed his repose. omerton hastened to the other side of the eabin, and found the other sentinel seated up- on the ground, supported by a friendly post, with a strong odor of rum about his person. The tent of the swordmaker remained where he had reared it, but the sound of his ham- mer had ceased. Impelled by strong curios- ity, the colonel dashed in beneath the awning. The swordmaker wes lying upon the saath, with his leather apron rolled up*for a — He was, to all appearance, ina deep and quiet slumber. While the officer was looking at bim, a passing blast turned the flames toward the tent, and it caught fire. Beside the old man lay a pile of weapons bearing marks of his handiwork; attesting in the most indubi- table manner to his industry. “Strange old man!” muttered Somerton, Then the thought of the prisoner's danger oc- eurred to him. “Up, old man!’ he added, seizing Hirl roughly by the shoulder. “Up! the tent is burning over your head.” The swordmaker yawned, opened his eyes, and ciosed them again. d “No quarters—no quarters! Charge on ‘em!’ he murmured. Somerton caught him by the collar, and raised him to his feet, which awakened him. He stared at the colonel in perplexity. “The cabin and the tent are on fire, old man: If you are sober enough, and have eollected yourself, help me to save Deering. 10 - Beadle’s Dime Library. The men have been tampered with—or there has been gross neglect of duty.” Somerton ran to the cabin door, and burst it open with a blow of his foot. A second door still opposed him, and he threw himself desperately against it; it fell in with a erash. A current of suffocating smoke met the colonel in the face, and drove him back. He paused til) the first gush had passed, and the pent gases had found momentary vent, and was rushing in again, when the swordmaker—who bad followed him—caught him by the arm. “ Are you mad, colonel?” he cried. “No human creetur can live in there a minute.” “Let me go, old man! The prisoner must be saved at any risk, however great. It must never be eaid that the Americans burn their prisoners.” Somerton ehook eff the grasp of the sword- maker, and plwaged into the whirling vortex of smoke. ‘Deering! Deering!” he called, and groped from corner to eorner. He received no answer, and felt vainly for the form of the spy. The carbonic vapors went to his brain and lungs, and struck him down inamoment. A horrible gasping; chok- ing, dying sensation overpowered him. He seemed to be whirled to and fro like a feathet on the ocean. He felt himself death-doomed and lost. There was a footstep beside him; a strong hand lifted him from the floor. It was Hirl, who had plunged after him into the Tartarean bath of smoke and fire. Somerton was conscious of being dragged a few paces; that his deliverer appeared to strike a passage through the wall with his foot; that. fresh air rushed in; that he was drawn through @ narrow aperture, and placed on the ground outside the bing cabin. “ All this happened in Jess time than we have been relating it; and the colonel, after breathing the pure air a few seconds, was fully aware of the peril he had escaped, and to whom he owed his preservation. But Deering was still uppermost in his mind. .“' Must he perish? Is there no way of reach- ing him ?” he cried, a8 soon as he was able to speak. Pithe swordmaker was about to reply, when there was a deafening blare of trumpets, and the ground shook beneath the tread of horses. “A charge of cavalry !—a charge of caval- ry! The enemy!—the enemy!” shouted Hirl, in a stentorian voice. “To horse !—to horse?” thundered Somer- ton, recovering his energies and self-posses sion His voice was heard above the din of trumpets and the tramp of steeds. Almost simultaneously was heard the firing of the outposts. In a moment, the camp was astir. There was a burried seizing of arms, and a headlong rushing for horses. Somerton was soon in the saddle; but not until the enemy was upon the half-formed ranks. Some of the dragoons were overthrown while mounting; while others fought resolutely on foot, watch, ing an opportunity to vault into the saddle. e conflict raged Sig ee Somerton seemed in every part of the field at the same moment; ard the men rallied bravely at his woll-known voice. Several times he noticed that a horseman was at his side; but, in the smoke and confusion, at first thought him Rainford, or another officer, te enh in leading a headlong charge, he distanced his men, and found himself hemmed in by the enemy. A dozen swords were raised to cut him down ; but, managing his horse with great skill, and bpoayian his sabre with desperate determination, he kept his assailants at bay for a short time. He was wounded in his sword- arm, and was rapidly losing strength, when the horseman that had uf age him during the conflict was again st his side. How he reached him, the Continental officer did not know ; but remembered afterward that a horse and rider were at that critical moment over- turned, and rolled in the dust among the piti- less iron hoofs. Through the sulphurous smoke and dire confusion, fe saw for an instant the face of the spy, and heard the report of a istol. The thought flashed like lightning hrough his brain: “I am lost! This man will have his revenge.” But the bullet whie- tled harmlessly over his shoulder, and a man in the uniform of a British officer, in the act of giving a fatal thrust to the colonel’s horse, dropped his weapon, and pressed his hand to his breast. Even in this situation, Somerton found room for an emotion of surprise. Just then, a tory trooper, who could not reach him in any other way, hurled a savalry-pistol at his head, which, taking effect, contributed to the catastrophe that followed. The shock bewildered him, Men and horses went whirling around him in a vortex of disorder. The only reeognizable thing in this giddy dance of death, was the face of the spy. When sense and volition returned, the din, and all the attendant horrors of battle, had rolled away like a panorama. He was lying on the ground, with a tattered camp-blanket thrown over him. The root of a cypress tree was his pillow. A glance sufficed to show that he was in one of the dismal swamps of the Santee, which afforded shelter alike to the pa- thiot and the tory marauder. .Somerton a8 once divined into whose power he had fallen; he was in the hands, doubtless, of a stron band of tory robbers, who lived by pillage ont murder—making secret and rapid raids upop the inhabitants and small bands of patriots, and retiring as suddenly to the protection of the swamps anc pine forests. And this ex- plains why they were sometimes called the “Pine Robbers.” Small chance of hfe had those whom luckless fate cast into their clutches. The leader of this particular band. was Christian Hadley—as execrable o villain as ever trod the soil of South Carolina, , A short distance from the spot where Somer- ton was lying, these remorseless enemies of liberty and humanity were e ed in the va- rious offices and relaxations that follow a battle. Some were dressing the wounds of comrades; some were eating, and drinking, and making merry, while others were sleeping on the ground; the whole forming a wild and pic- turesque scene, of which the tall cypress and ean’ hung with moss, and the water-oak, ormed the setting, while the long and slem- der canes waved gracefully in the back- ground. “What a pity,” mused Somerton, “that such a spot should be desecrated by the pres- ence of wretches!” He unconsciously moved his arm, and expe- rienced a sharp twinge of pain. He then re- membered the night-surprise, and the part he had played in it until the face of Decring, the spy, passed before him ; but after that, all waa lank. He looked at hig clothing, and per- ceived that it was saturated with blood, and penetrated in many places by sword and bayo- net thrusts. It occurred to him immediately that he had been left there for dead—other- wise a guard would have have placed over him. But no guard was in sight. A strong and not unnatural curiosity to learn how seri- ously he had been wounded took possession of the colonel’s mind. He put his various members to the test—tried one limb, then another, and discovered that his injuries were limited to his head and right arm, which was little less than a miracle, considering how many weapons had been leveled at him. “Ah!” sighed the gallant colonel, “if I could only give these miscreants the slip!” Then added by the same mental process, and with that passion for punning, which is more or less inherent in every human. being: “ With me it. is elip or slip-noose. I wonder what the brave Rainford isabout? He is too much attached to me to allow me to pril hemp for Captain Hadley 1 itb~ut an attempt to save me.” A remembrance of the spy erossed the track of his reflections. “ It must have been he,” he muttered. ‘The same handsome, cold; melancholy face. There is no other like him, I am sure. Then there was the burning cabin. Let me see—I went in—yes; I went in. Death seized me by the throat. A giant rescued me, I think. The imprint of his iron fingers must be on my shoulders. How did he get me out? Did he thrust me through the solid walls? No, that couldn’t be; yet I’m positive I did not escape by the door. Singular old hunchback! A kno body does not always make a naughty sou Bah! I'm wandering. That was a horrible shock on my head I’ ~ Somerton shut his eyes with an exprestion of pain, and thought of his dragoons with in expressible longing. ‘Go ‘long! go ‘long, Crazy !” said a voice, that was familiar to the Continental officer, who heard, also, the rumbling of a cart. “ Don’t ’magive you're goin’ to a funeral, de The rheumatics and neuralagy don’t rouble ye, do they, aki gal? Hirrup, I say) hirrup!” a ee
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“The swordmaker!” murmured Somerton. “‘What does he here? He is ao false knave, V'll swear!” Meantime, Old Hirl trundled along to the spot where the colonel was lying, and seeing him, stopped his horse. Somerton lay quite motionless. “One of the rebel ereeturs,” said Hirl. “Cap'n Hadley’s boys have made an eend of him, I reckon. Well, all the rebels must eome to it, sooner or later. The king’s lads are cuttin’ ’em up like Satan! Git up, Crazy !” The swordmaker jerked at the reins, and the cart rattled on again. “Old Hirl! Deef Hirl!’’ eried several voices ; and these exclamations, and others of like character, passed from mouth to mouth. “ What one brought us now, old man?” demanded Captain Hadley, turning his sinis- ter = upon the swordmaker. “Bought a cow? No; there’s none to sell, as 1 knows on! ’Tain’t in my line,” he answered, with a slightly-injured expression. Some.of the tories laughed. ** Makin’ fun of me, be ye? A good ’eal o’ work shall I do for ye, if ye go on this way. Not a puff will I blow for ye, nor a blow will * I strike!” added Hirl, petulantly. “They don’t mean any hurt,” said Hadley, soothingly. “ What's the news from the rebel . camp?” Somerton heard this interrogatory, and lis- _ tened with deep interest for the swordmaker’s " Peply. * al “Yes, he was a great seamp,” replied the hunchback, pointing to Somerton; “but he "pears pooty well out the reach o’ mischief, ~ pow.” ~ “The old villain !” thought Somerton. “I asked about the dragoons up the ee river!’ shouted Hadley. “Oh! They’re mightily eut up,” replied . the old man, rubbing his hands with satisfae- tion. ‘ There’s scarcely one on ’em but got an ugly cut from your fire-eaters, last night. - You made monstrous havoe among ’em, I tell ye. There isn’t twenty of ’em that can mount | & hoss, to-day, ‘thout groanin’. You oughter make another dash at ’em while they’re stiff > « ton. ~ from their wounds.” “I trusted that man!” murmured Somer- “ Jn these troublous times on whom can we rely ?” “ How do they bear the loss of their lead- er?’ sereamed Hadley. “It works ’em up ’mazin’! Cap’n Rain- ford chafes to and fro like a wild beast, swear- in’ that he’ll have him, dead or alive.” “Tf he gets him, it will be as you see him, . yonder,” returned the tory with a shrug. “‘ Noticed him as I drivalong. The breath, has gone clean out of him, and he lays there _ stiff and ghastly. ’Tisn’t @ pleasant sight about camp; and it don’t bring good luck to have dead men so pear, starin’ at ye with their glassy eyes.” The tory leader glanced toward Somerton, and then turned his face in another direction. “T hate to have a body lookin’ at me, as *twere, when I work at nights in my li tent,” added the old man, with many dubious _ shakes of the head. Then, with his eyes fix- ed’ on the prostrate form of Somerton, he _ went on: “How have the mighty fallen, and the weepons o’ war perished! Yesterda mornin’, this rebe] was in full strength, an terror to the royal troops; now he is cut down as grass, and the cunnin’ has departed from his erm. »I knowd his mother afore the lad was born. For her sake, I’ll jest give him a decent burial; that is, dig a hole at the roots of a tree, and kiver him with mo- ther airth.” » “ Are you sure he’s dead ?” asked Hadley. “If ne dead as he is, cap’n, you'd thank sombody to bury ye!” replied the sword- maker impressively. “If he’s alive, I should be the last one to get within reach of his arm; for he’d strangle me if he was at his last gasp! Seein’ me here wouldn’t make him over friendly. Pll fling him into my sart, and take him out o’ the way; for the very sight of his body makes me shiver. _ They say he was proper ee the tools blade oe ae i ) 7 lide 4 Ry ors ape —his aim was sure, and his “Well, off with him, and make is bed pomewhere where it won't be seen too skh : Fpl Hadley, carol, gad to bo i a a nerds ay Hag easily, oh’ emotions of Somerton upon we, little | 7 o Ms - ‘ ¢ P hy Agi “Sh Sa ae ord eee = ee ae “Hirl, the Hunchback. hearing this conversation! Horror and in dignation struggled in his breast. The hunchback turned his cart, muttering as he did so: ‘‘If there’s a few sparks o’ life in him, the clods’ll put ’em out. Yes, the clods’]i put ’em out; they’ll put us all out one o’ these days.” Hirl turned his cart and approached the colonel, mumbling to himself with the imbe- cility of age. “Rebels don’t live long. It’s a wicked thing to turn against one’s nat'ral king.” The wheels of the swordmaker’s cart brush- ed Somerton’s garments, who had resolved to feign death and trust his chance for escape from the talons of this impromptu grave-digy er. The latter descended from his perch, ragging his old musket after. - «There’s nothin’,” he squeaked, “ like bein’ repared for an emargency. I'll jest prick fim a little with the bagonet, and if there’s any vitality in him, it'll make him cringe ag’in; for livin’ flesh don’t bear bagonet- thrusts very well.” Then in a whisper, which sounded like a note of salvation to Somerton : “Tf there’s any life in you, colonel, for God’s sake don’t show it! Trust in me.” Then aloud, pressing the bagonet against him in several places, and dexterously thrusting it through his clothes into the ground: “No harm in him now, not a bit on’t. These here arms won't never guide hosa no more, nor draw unlawful sword ag'in the king. Hillo, there, a couple of ye! Come and tumble this lump of mortality into my cart.” A shiver crept over Somerton. Could he Keep up the deception? Would not the mis- creants discover life in his body? It wasa terrible moment for his nerves. “ Are we crows, that we should hover round sich carrion ?” retorted a fellow not far from Hirl, who was cleaning his gun. “Tumble it in yourself!” said another. “We ain’t sextons, old her ; we only make work for em. You crave the job, and you may do it, for all my help.” “Well, I ean do it myself, and no thanks te yér. Mayhap you'll want a weepon sharpened, or a lock mended, and my memory ’l] be bet- ter nor my hearin’.” The swordmaker leaned his musket against a wheel, and, taking the colonel by the feet, dragged him to the rear of his cart. The to- ries laughed to see how unceremoniously he handled him. “Laugh as you will!” when a person’s dead, that’s an eend'to pain, use him as roughly as you may.” Then, whispering again to Somerton : “Finely done! You look dead, for all the world. Don’t wince !” “ What an old wolf!” said another, with a show of disgust. ; “ A guinea to a shillin’,” cried a dirty cor-. poral, “that Deef Hirl can’t put him in!” “ Done!” said Captain ey. “At him, ‘old gentleman !” “T take the wager!” screamed the sword- maker. “ A guinea ag’in ashillin’, Remem- ber that !” “The devil! The old chap hears when you speak o’ money!” muttered the corporal. “The hunchback bent over Somerton, put his arms under him, raised him from the ground, and tossed him into the cart. “The corporal has lost! Give him the guinea !” cried several voices in concert. Guinea!” exclaimed Hirl, contemptuous-- iy: “He never had a guinea ix his life; or if he chanced to git hold of one, it went for rum and tobakky as socn’s he could make the swap. Hirrup, Crazy! Gee! whoal” Crazy slowly put herself in motion, and the cart went squeaking and rattling into the swamp. “There goes as brave a lad as ever drew aword, if he’d on’y been on the right side,” said the swordmaker; and, with his musket on his shoulder, trudged on after his cart, CHAPTER IX. IN THE SWAMP. A ride of several miles, through # danger- ous part of the country, was before Dame Grindle when she left Somerton’s camp. This distance was to be traversed by a mere bridle- ‘path stretching across clearings, through pine iceiies and along the borders of swamps, The sun was journeying rapidly adown the west, and it was not without apprehension that she pursued her solitary way. i ya! = “tose [SEE oe Nee eee a” Caria ‘ v piped Hirl; “but — making the visit to camp, a strong and ab- sorbing object had occupied her mind, and kept it from dwelling on the perils of the undertaking; but that mission having been accomplished, as far as practicable, her thoughts naturally took a different turn. Like a bow that has shot the arrow, the ten- sion that gave her foree was gone, and she’ was free to notice everything around her, and to call into suppositious being innumerable unpleasant contingencies. In the clearings, she expected to be seen from a distance, and pursued by some lynx-eyed loyalist; and, in threading the forest, her fears were continu- ally hiding a tory marauder behind every tree. Sometimes she struck several diverg-- ing paths, which caused some doubt in regard to the right one; but she generally decided the matter by taking that nearest the river. The ride home was singularly long. Dame Grindle could account for it in no other ee but by the supposition that her fears magnified the actual lapse of time. The sun went down too quickly; and_twilight, it ap- peared to the spinster, stayed but a moment; while darkness hurried after it with unwonted haste. “Missus,” said Meg, “I de b'lieve we're el’ar gone lost!” Miss Betsey tried to remove this impres- sion from the girl’s mind ; but, unfortunately, her manner served to deepen it. “Deed, mum, we nebber come dis way in de Lor’s world! Jes’ stop an’ look down yer! Don’t s’pect we come frew no sieh place as dat ar—does ye, Miss Bessy ?” Meg stopped her horse, and pointed dows the narrow vista before them. Her mistrese alse paused, chilled at the dismal prospect. To go on, was like penetrating a labyrinth of darkness and uncertainty Herterrors, which had been steadily increatiag, could no longer be concealed from Meg, upon whom —_ acted like a battery, each shock of which thri her utterly. “Oh, missus, I knowed somethin’ drefful would happen when we started on this yer wil’ goose chase. We sha'n’t nebber see de plantation no more! "Deed, missus, we're as = as cotched and murdered by de Pine obbers! If them yer done gone, no ’count wheels 0’ time rolls us into that black hole, it'll jes’ put de finishin’ touch to us, and dat’s the Lor’s truth!” Meg’s state of mind was too evident to need an interpreter. Instead of inspiring confidence by her presence, her. eompany was likely to prove anything but re-assuring. ’ “If you don’t choose to follow me, you can remain behind,” replied Miss Grindle, in as firm a voice as she could command. She touched her horse and moved on, but with a dread and misgiving that fell little short of Meg’s. ‘The forest was at that point muse dense, and thesolitude more palpable to the feelings. The path, too, was less defined, and her horse stepped with his nose near the ground. That she had mistakén her way, was a conviction that grew stronger at every step. That.she hed ridden far enough to reach the planta. tion, she could scarcely doubt; but persons who begin to feel themselves lost are apt to persevere in the wrong while there is s single shadow of hope. She could see no land- marks to guide her; she was conscious onl of a black wilderness of trees, wkich swal- lowed up her and her maid like atoms af sand, or two waifs of thistledown. “ Missus,” said the mulatto, with chatter teeth, “the path am ’tirely gone, an’ we's in, ridin’ *mong the trees!” This announcement did not surprise the worthy spinster, for she wae 'y con- scious of the fact. “ For ouce in your life, Meg, you're right. We've either reached the end of the path or. lost it. Now don’t sit there shakin’ like s ie but try and be brave. If you don’t, ‘ll cut ye up well when we get home,” an- swered Dame Grindle, attempting to speak in her usual manner. “"Deed, Miss Bessy, if you'll take me straight home to de plantetion, ye may cut me up and welcome; for, ye sce, I can stan’ dat, but I can’t etan’ dia ver.” ‘ “Turn your horse, aud we'll try and fied the way beck to the pays said her mistress, “Turn Ge hiss! r’ lub ye, Miss Bessy, I's turned rezud ten times in de las’ ten min- utes. It don’t make no odds which way we goes. Defe’s trees dis way, an’ trees dat way, _ | en’ trees eberywhere! What's the use tryin’? — rr rey. Coa a Sipe Pe Ko Sa ihe 7 | . WARY,
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é ¥ A 12 An’} no use. Might as well swound right away whar we is as anywhar.” “Swoon, Meg, if you think you'll get out ef the woods by it; but I sha'n’t give up witbout anotber trial.” Goody Grindle made repeated and con- tinued attempts to recover the lost path; but every effort involved her in more inextricable labyrinths, until the points of compass were hopelessly lost. It was at this junoture that Miss Betsey proved herself a woman of nerve and resolution. Doubt in regard to their situation having yielded to certainty, she straggled heroically with her terrors, and tried to act rational y Perceiving that she was quite as likely to go deeper into the forest as to extricate hers self from it, she proposed to give the rein to her horse, and trust implicitly to his in- etincts. This experiment she at once put in practice ; and the animal, abandoned to his own guidenee, snuffed the air, and smelled along the ground, starting off at a moderate pace. Mise Grindle had not proceeded far in this manner, whep a shriek from Meg ex- cited new alarm. “Hush!” gaid aer mistress, imperatively. “Your noise will bring upon us the very danger that you fear.” “Couldn't help it, missus, ’f I's to die! I's heerd somebody walkin’ for two, free min- utes, an’ I couldn't squiet myse’f no longer It am right down drefful, missus! Dar! don’t ye hear it?” “ For Heaven’s sake, be silent! Your folly makes me angry!, It was but a squirrel run- ning over the leaves.” Dame Grindle grasped the colored girl by . the arm, and held it tightly. “There! don’t speak above a whisper!” she added. “Dear mo! how you does take hold. Dar! oe tis again! S'pect it am de Pine Kob- rs.” Betsey Grindle certainly heard a noise that sounded like footsteps not far off. She set her fingers more rigidly upon the arm of Meg 5 but physical pain could not neutralize or di- vert her mental disorder; a tell-tale moan hastened the dreaded catastrophe. ‘Tbe foot- steps which had been uncertain and cautious, immediately became decided. A figure sud- denly separated itself from the darkness, and prvss | beside them. We said that it separated itself from the darkness; but this is not strictly true, for the form itself was dark: it was a tall, broad-shouldered negro. He seized both horses by their bridles, and his large, white eyes glared up at mistress and maid through the obscurity. Dame Grindle expe- riensed but one emotion—overpowering ter- ror. The black made a noise like the chatter- ing of an ape—it did not sound like humay = Idiss Grindle would rather have heard tbe growl of a panther. After standing a mo- ment, rolling his eyes from one to the other, he drew a large knile from among the rags that covered part of his person, and holding it up eaeeeey: mumbled a horrible threat ; then throwing both bridles over his arm, led—or rather dragged—the animals afterhim. Both submitted to this without the power of remon- strance. Meg sat in the saddle, nearly as white as her mistress, the fact of the man’s color not in the least conducing to allay her fears. The silence of the forest ; the distance from human habitations; the improbability of assistance, al] concurred to heighten the hopelessness of their situation. * Miss Grindle, thovgn naturally brave, was ‘too much shocked by the appearance of the half-savage creature into whose clutches they had fallen to soon recover her mental equil- rium. The negro pulled the horses on, and finally entered a cypress brake, infinitely more dismal than the pine forest. The horses sank to the fetlocks in the black mud, and the trailing moss on the trees swept the faces of the eap- tives as they were guided through the gloomy intricacies. Presently they reached a thicket too dense to be penetrated, and this seemed to be the end of their journey. A hut of trees and bark was visble. The negro, atill holding the bridles, © set fire to a heap of dry brush, and signed for his captives to dismount, which they were loth todo. They could now see but too distinctly the fellow’s and form. As he stood in the a ight of the fire, he looked to Betsey Grindle like Satan himself, In frame he was large and powerful. His naked arms were Beadle’s Dime Library.. like bundles of muscles, and his bare chest gave indications of vast strength. His features were the most repulsive of his race, approach- ing very closely to those of the ape or mon- key. But it was by no means a tame, expres- sionless visage, being alive with fierce and un- governable impulses, As the spinster gazed at that sooty counte- nance, she had a vague remembrance that she had seen it? Before dismounting, she resolved to make an effort to tempt his cupidity. ‘“* Man or devil,” she said, assuming a bold- ness which she assuredly did not feel, “ con- duct us to Mr. Redmond’s plantation, and am shall receive ten pounds for your trou- ave An exulting grin distorted the face of the uegro. He looked at Meg, and said, in a voice pes might have come from the throat of a wolf : “ Git down, yaller gal! git down quick!” Meg was too much terrified to move. The ogre caught her by the foot and drag: ged her from her seat. He then made ber un- fasten the stirrup-leather, with which he tied her hands, Miss Grindle beheld this operation with fear- ful misgivings. She would have turned her horse and fled from the black phantom as from the arch-fiend; but the bridle was over his muscular arm, and one of his rolling eyes was constantly upon her. Her fortitude was ter- ribly shaken. For @ short time she was scarcely conscious of what was taking place ; but presently a painful pressure upon her wrists, made he aware that she, too, was be- ing bound. She grewcalmer, She saw the negro take the saddles and bridles from the horses and turn them loose; and it was then that she fully realized the extent of her mis- fortune. Her unequivocal terror clearly gave the black a savage delight. “ Set down dar, on de groun’!” he growled ; and this order, like the others, they obeyed. “Dunno dis yer nigger, does ye, missus ?” he added, in the same dissonant voice. “ You forgit; dis chile never do. You had me cut up monstrous bad—run away—live in de swamp—steal, kill—do eberyt’ing bad. Hate white folks—hate niggers—hate you—hate all de world!” “It’s Black Jaffer!” cried Meg, creeping closer to her mistress, The negro laughed malignantly. Betsey Grindle felt faint and sick—for she remembered the slave and his punishment. Jaffer was a vicious and unmanageable negro, who ran away from the plantation some months before; since which time tales of his crimes had often reached her, inspiring her, with terror, even when safe at home. The name of Black Jaffer had become a watch- word of fear to quell disobedient children and unruly youth. is deeds had been truly hor- rible—providing half the stories respecting him were true, which there was no reason to doubt. He had joined the most desperate of the tories ; and having correct knowledge of that part of the country, was a useful ally as a spy and leader of pillagi arties. His hae anen y and brute pas Sale him es- pecially dreaded. To find themselves in the power of this ruf- fian, was sufficient to conquer every vestige of courage that remained in the hearts of the unforttinate women, “© Meg! Meg! whatshall we do?” gasped Betsey Grindle, “De Lor’ knows, missus! We's in a dref- ful state, wid no way to help ourselves the leastest mite, I s’pect ye’d better tell de truff, Miss Betsey,” answered Meg, looking piteous ly at Miss Grindle. “The truth!—God in His mercy forbid!” eried the spinster, with singular energy. “ Keep silent, I charge you!” “O Jaffer! good Jaffer! honest Jaffer! moaned Meg; “ take missus an’ I back to de plantation, an’ Mas’r Redmond will give ye more shiny ginneas than you can jes’ count on yer fingers. ’Deed he will. Dey lie "bout you, Jaffer, an’ dat’s a fack. You nebber steal, you nebber kill, nor do all de mischief they talks bout.” While the girl was making this appeal, Black Jaffer sat chuckling in 4 manner inex- pressibly startling to Dame Grindle. “Name your own price, Jaffer, and guide us to the plantation,” she urged, with an earn- cstness that would have moved a nature less hardened and brutal. “Ten, twenty, thirt pounds—what you will shall be your reward “ Not for a t’ousand1” yelled Jaffer, springs ing to his feet, and flourishing his long arma, “ Dis wild man doesn't want money. He want revenge on white folks. He keep you in de swamp—tie you—eut you up—he lib with you! Black Jaffer hab two wives—one white, todder yaller. How you likedat? Yah, yah!” These words, with the harsh, menacing manner in which they were pronounsed, com- pletely overcame Betsey Grindle, and she sank back upon the ground, insensible. Her . dress had become disordered by the rough usage of the night; and this movement dis- closed a neck and bosom white, round, and beautiful. : Jaffer glared at her with stupid wonder; then, springing to her side, tore off her bon- net and cap, and held triumphantly up a wig of gray hair. A striking change came over the negro’s face. Revenge and hatred gave lave to emotions far more dangerous to the betes stretched motionless at his feet. As he looked down at the pale and lovely counte- nance thus unexpectedly revealed, his sooty bosom swelled with the wildest joy. Meg arose, the picture of consternation ; and, re- ally aroused to something like action by the — of her mistress, wrenched her small ands from the leathern ligature, and casting herself upon her, broke out in the most pas- sionate strain of condolence—lavishing upon the inanimate form numberless endearing names. Black Jaffer rubbed his leaden palms to- gether, emitting eries of surprise and exulta- tion that scarcely resembled human vocaliza- tion. The mulatto girl raised her mistrese tenderly ; and the glare of the fire fell upon a sweet young face. “ O Miss Judith! them yer locks has beer. the ruination of ye! ’Deed they has. What is liberty good for, 'f y* lose yourse’f, lose me, lose eberyt’ing? Open your eyes, missy; open your shiny black eyes, that Meg may look into’em once more. I's been s coward ; but I’s mad now, and 1°01 fight for ye as de wolf fights for her cubs. Take care, Jaffer; take care, you runaway-nigger, or I'll write de ten commandments on your no-’couat face.” Meg’s eyes were now flashing ; end she wae spiteful in her anger as she had been abject in her cowardice. She was like a wild-cat, ready to fly at the first aggressor, aad worry him with tooth and nail. The beautiful creature who had risen, cha- meleon-like, from the gray hair and antiquity of Betsey Grindle, recalled and soothed by the voice of her maid, came back to conecious- ness with a long-drawn sigh. As she sat in the strong reflection of the fire, supported by Meg, her pale and delicate beauty surpassed the common-place realities of life. Her firss glance of returning sense rested on the black, who was devouring her loveliness with his reedy, passion-fired eyes. Such was the ef- ect of his steady stare, that she sprang from the ground with a shriek. Black Jaffer darted forward, caught Meg by the arm, lifted her, and, swinging her light ig. ure toward the hut, cast herfromhim. By time Judith had worked her wrists free ; and when the black made an eager snatch at her arm, she eluded him by a sudden ¢ & osition. Meg fell; but, thoroughly excited, unded back upon Jaffer like an india-rub- ber ball. She grasped his knees like a tigress, orying : “ Run, Miss Judith! ran!” The words acted magically upon the girl. Thought, reason, comprehension, action, were instantly restored. She fled. Her form was lost in the darkness of the brake in a moment, Jaffer broke from Meg, with a 7 rage, and pursued her. Dashing into swamp with eager bounds, he paused to hear the rus- tling of her garments and the flying footsteps that were to guide him; but the silence ot death pervaded the darksome forest. While he stood, holding his breath and listening with rigid intensity, Meg caught up the treach- erous disguise of her mistress, and crept awa in another direction. As she stole the spot, she heard thé negro raging and plur ing, this way and that, im pursuit of Judi af CHAPTER X. IM WHICH THE SWORDMAKER BECOMES A SEXTON. Colonel Somerton’s position in the sword- maker's cart was by no means comfortable having been cast unceremoniously upon the various implementa of the old man’s trade, He found himself in contact with bammers.
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j anne ret ne perce, bite of iron, and, to complete all, his imbs rested in a painful attitude over a small envil while his head was pillowed on a coil of wire, and the nozzle of # pair of bellows pressed against his wounded arm. The Con- tinenta] officer would have preferred a milder conveyance, and a couch less rugged; but, bearing in mind the proverb, that ‘* what can- not he cured must be endured,” he submitted adnate? to his tortures, supported by the ope of escape. Old Hirl shuffled along behind him, with as much apparent indifference as if he were going home after a successful circuit in the way of business. “Whoa, Crazy! Look out for the trees, old gal. Mind yoursteppin’. Don’t slop out the body by your loose travelin’. Look out for that log, old ereetur! Gee, I say—gee!” The hunchback cracked his cart-whip, and id- no more attention to Somerton than if bo had been that disagreeable thing which he feigned to be. he tory camp was still in sight, and sev- eral idle fellows were looking after him. The ewordmaker was an odd figure, with his old musket on his shoulder, the hump on his back, his stooping person, and his particularly limp- ing and shu ing gait. A hoarse chorus of laug}iter followed him into the forest. The trees soon hid him from view. “ Be patient, kurnil—ve patient!” he said, at length: “The pryin’ rascals are sharp- eyed, and we must be wise asearpints. "Tisn't a feather-bed you're on, by a long shot; but it’s better nor hangin’, or dyin’ by inches in the clutches of Christian Hadley, the rene- e and ruffian.” “ Better, far better !’’ murmured Somerton. “But relieve me as soon as possible, for Iam painfully cramped and shaken.” “ Keep still,” said Hirl; “there’s no know- in’ what ‘ll happen. Prudence is @ vartue heerd on by many, but possessed by few.” The old man carelessly lashed the bushes with his whip, and the cart creaked slowly on, One wheel finally struck against a fallen tree, and Crazy stopped. “I'd better get out,” said Somerton. “Not for the world!” answered the sword- maker, quickly. “I can lift it over; and it would be like them erafty devils to eome arter us, to puta trick on me, even if they don’t pistrust nothin’.” Hirl put his shoulder to the wheel, saying : “Qome up, Crazy! What ye "bout? Go "long !’ rs tot uneasy in both body and mind while Hirl was thus engaged, raised his head a trifle, and looked over the side of the cart, He saw two men among the trees, whose stealthy movements assured him that they had a cinlaker purpose in view. This discovery gave him a disagreeable shock. How should e warn the swordmaker of the danger? His unfortunate deafness would certainly prevent him from verbally informing him of what he had seen. The colonel’s head fell back with a moan of pen tor, just then, the wheel jolted over an obstacle, and the coneussion affected every part of him. « We are watched! We are followed!” he said, in a subdued tone. “Gee up—gee up!” voeiferated Hirl, add- in a lower voice: “J gee em! They are two garrion crows, that are allers found gas coe the dead arter a battle or # skrimmage. I've geen ’em at it Gften, and I’ve got ® long-stannin’ gaudge ag’in em. Assassination and plunder is their trade. Keep quiet, and trust all to me.” “ Hillo, old man!” eried one of the fellows, suddenly showin~ himself “ What you mut- éerin’ about?” The swordmaker made no answer; but, ‘racking his whip, the eart rolled on faster than Solors. ; ‘ “1 say, mister, what kind 0’ freight do ye added the man, in an insolent man- “Stop! shonted his companion, “ or 1’]] sand a bullet through ye, you old scarecrow! t goin’ to bury that chap in his rigiment- eee for short, I’m eslled ’ Name is Hirley; for sho m e Hirl, though iitsuaanered people call me Old Hirl, Deef Hirl, Crazy Hirl, and sich!” re. Phed the hunchback, in those querulous and Piping tones that characterized him when he his voice above a certain key. “ You forgit, Bill, that the old ool is deaf a4 8 post!” paid be who had first spoken. Hirl, the Hunchback. “Pint your gun at him, Steve: that ’ll stop him!" replied Bill. Both then ran and overtook Hirl, who kept on as before. “T say, old boy,” cried Steve, plucking the hunchback by the sleeve, “a dead man don’t need his coat, breeches, boots, and spurs, does he? Can’t a rebel go to bed naked, seein’ it’s the last time ?” “ Steve's gittin’ to be a wag!” laughed his comrade. “Don’t be in a hurry, friend,” replied Hirl. “There'll be time enough for that matter arter we get the grave dug. We're pooty near the camp; and Cap’n Hadley don’t like a plunderin’ done ’cept what he has a hand in » “Can’t wait!” said Bill, sullenly. “ You ean do the diggin’ arterwards |” “Not a bit on’t! Not a shovel-full of airth do I throw out, if you’re to have the rigi- mentals. Jes’ dig the hole when we git far enough , and you may have all the duds and welcome, and much good may they do ye. My name is Hirl—now mind that !” “The headstrong old devil!” muttered the man called Bill. “A bayonet-thrust wouldn’t do him no harm!” said the other, in an undertone. The swordmaker turned his head, and looked at the ruffians in a peculiar manner. There was a magnetism in his eyes thet, to a certain extent, quelled and awed them. They pe» mitted him to drive on, grumbling at the length of the way. He finally reached a spot which, he averred, would answer the purpose. Taking a pick and shcvel from the cart, which he had provided, he threw them at the feet of the two tories. “ Now, my hearties,” he eaid, “make a hole at the foot of that cypress, end you shall have the coat and boots.” The men demurred; for, since ‘the oe out of the partisan war, work of all kinds become exceedingly distasteful. It was a critical moment for Somerton, who was in fe- verish expectation of a discovery. What could the old man do against these wretches ? in all probability, they would overpower him with the greatest ease. As for himself, he had no weapous—nor stre to use them if he had. e doubted if he was even strong enough to stand upon his feet. The time thus far consumed in this singular attempt to es- espe was to him terribly long, and, in his wounded and helpless state, rendered peculi- arly dreadful by the conflict of hope and fear. he two outlaws glanced inquiringly at each other, and then at the hunchback, who, setting his musket against the cart, was tugging at one of Somerton’s boots. One of the plunderers ran and seized the other; but Hirl pushed him away with a violence that made him spin round like a top, and threw after him the boot which he had succeeded in drawing off. “I knew the lad’s mother,” he cried, while his pale face flushed, ‘and I won't have his lifeless remains abused. The things I named ou shall have; but if ye git more, you'll ve to fight Old Hirl, the Swordmaker of the Santee |” There was a wonderful ene considering his age, and an ugly glare in his eyes. In his excitement, he mounted the cart nimbly, and, while the tories were muttering and whispering, stripped off the luckless colo- nel’s coat; which was not an easy task—for Somerton was heavy,and hung with a dead weight on his hands. Having accomplished this, he rolled up the ent, and tossed it toward the fellows, with a strong expression of contempt. They growled and complained, sad approached the cart with dogged deter- mination, The old man sprang down, caught his long musket by the muzzle, snd, with a single sweep, prostrated both the thieving rascals He stood over them with glowing eyes and heaving chest. “God only knows what keeps me from mak- in’ an end of ye!” he exclaimed. “ Both rebel and royalist would approve the deed. Don’ think Christian Hadley would inquire who give ye your desarts; for he wouldn't. I’ve seen ye at your work—you, Bill Flanders, and you, Steve Martin—and long to try one o’ Hy arene on your vile bodies |” he swordmaker’s anger grew stronger #8 he went on. No longer able to control him- self. be seized his heavy cart-whip and made a violent assault upon the astonished objects of his resentment. His blows fell on their in his voice,, 13 shoulders and faces witha rapidity and vehem- ence that made them bellow w'th pain, and left bloody tracks on their cheeks, and wher- ever the avenging lash touched the skin. They ingloriously fled, leaving the field and the plunder to the victor. “Them are creeturs,”’ said Hirl, “ that would rob a friend as soon as an inemy, though they hang like grim death to the skirts of Christian Hadley’s land-pirates; but se turn the seales, and let the Continentalere come up and the king’s men go down, and they'll whiffle over like weathercocks. Skin. ners is the name they'd oughter go by.” “There sre others,” replied Somerto “who seem to serve God and Mammon, an are equally welcome in both camps.” “ Sartin! sartin !’’ answered Hirl, innocent - ly. “They a’n't the only two crows that fly io the air, guided by the scent of carrion.” “ For God’s sake don’t keep me longer than is necessary in this horrible dilemma!” groan- ed the Continental officer, seeking vainly for an easy position among the implements of the swordmater'’s art. The latter took up the pick and began te use it with all his might. “ We must mind ’pearances,” he said, berd- ing his humped back to the work with a will. “The ground must be broke, and a mound raised, and somethin’ dragged along the ground.” Somerton watched the operations of the swordmaker with an intensity of impatience that ean be known only to one in his situation —fearing every moment that Flanders and Martin would return with birds of similar feather. Hirl toiled likea hero. The wound- ed man marveled at the vigor of his arm, which exhibited none of the tremulous weak- ness of age. He scooped a shallow hole, in- to which he threw limbs of trees and rotten wood, upon which he shoveled back the earth in the shape of a grave. This done, he made a trail in the leaves with his feet, as if a heavy body had been dra*/n over them. He glanced at his work with an air of satis- faction, placed Somerton’s coat and boots in the cart, scrambled to his seat, seized the reins, and choosing the mest open way, drove off. = yer. Crazy! what ye "bout?” he said, in a quick, sharp voice. : The sorry-looking mare pricked up her ears, and started off rapfily. The change in her gait was as extraordinary as anything that had happened during the morning. Somer- ton, at the imminent risk of having his brains dashed out, raised his head from a coil of wire to assure himself that the high-boned Crazy was really capable of such speed. But the marvel had only begun; the odd creature went faster and faster. The miscellaneous bite of iron, in company with hammer, tongs, and anvil, had a merry dance, to the supreme worriment of the person who ought to have . been 4 corpse, but wasn’t. i” ead tonvins: old man! You might as well put me in a mortar and powné me, as to jolt me over the ground in this way! The devil’s in that mare!” cried the colonel, pit- eously. “Yes, she is possessed at times. Used to call her Mary Magdalen on that account. Go ‘long! Hi! hil” The eccentric creature seemed to be tryin to run out of her harness. The trees dash by the cart, apparently like race-korses. A steeple-chase was nothing to it. Somertom was obliged to grasp the si¢ fAof the vehicle with both hands. : “On’y "leven year old!” shrieked the old man above the din and clatésr. “ On'y ‘leven year old!” A The wounded officer looked up sppeslingly, and saw Hirl sitting unconcernedly on his rch, with a rein in each hand, his musket tween his knees, and his great oart-whip at his fect. The morning sun shone on his hump, mak- ing it look like a hot shot, or a bomb-shell at @ white heat. “People that don’t know nothin’ *bout hosses, thiuk she’s fifteen; but I know her agetoaday. I can trace her generology in a drect line. Her mother was a Langs dlabe sided, weasly-lookin’ animil, and her sire wae the most vicious creetur that ever hroke halt er or slipped bridte. Crazy's low in fleeb this summer, but jest turn her out a few daye, and give her a pile of oata, and she'll show ye 6 trick or two when your business is preesied rere) ge
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eo ded end there’e denger afore, an’ ahind, an’ all round.” ; Iirl stopped so sndd nly, that every article in the cart. the colone) not excepted, plunged forward against the head-board. Shriek after giiriek came from the forest ; if was a woman’s voiss, The hunchback sprang from his scat like a eacket, and the colonel saw bim running swiftly to the left, with his musket. His curimity rose above his pains. He saw fig- ures half hidden by the trees, and the flutter of female garments. The forms came nearer ; they were women flying from pursuers, and the cries he hai! beard were uttered by them. The swordmakcr flew wildly to meet the fugitives, who were no other than Dame Grindle and her maid Meg. The ceuse of their terror was immediately manifest; the two marauders, Martin and Flanders, were hotly pursuing them. “Go on, gala! Go on!” said Hirl, passing them, and stopping behind atree. “Go on, and I'll have o settlement with these skin- ners.”’ “Tis the swordmaker! ’tis the sword- maker!’ exclaimed the suppositious Dame Grindle, who had resumed her gray bair and cap, and retreated again into tue almust myth- ical depths of her bonnet. “Tt am de debble, more like, missus, wid all dat yer on his back!” asserted Meg, on whose tind. the startling incidents of the night and morning had made deep impres- sion. Both paused, partly from exhaustion, partly from bewilderment. Poesidiy they feared that the old man could not evntend with the two. While they stood panting and gazing at the bunchback with swimming, dizzy ineredulity, he aimed his musket and fired. When tho amoke cleared away, neither of the villains were to be scen, but footsteps were heard growing every moment less distinct. Judith thought she beard groans, also, but was too much disturbed to dwell long upon the subject. The color receded from her face, and the awordmaker hastened to place his arm about her waist to support her ; fur Meg, in a military point of view, was quite demoralized. “Strange, strange, that I should encounter yen here!’ murmured Judith, sighing and embling on the verge of unconsciousness. . Nothin’ extr’ordiner, Goody Grindle. My trade carries me evegywhere e’enamost,” an- awered the swordmaker, drawing Judith closer to him. “True! true!” returned Judith, recovering, and remembering the character in which she was figuring. ‘There! that’ll do, my good man,” she added, returning to the Betsey Grindle voice and manner. , “Don't waste precious time in holdin’ upa woman when tliere’s no danger of her fallin’.” “Tn the name of God—” began the sword. maker, with remarkable earnestness. Judith looked at him wonderingly. “I mean—why is this, Goody Grindle? What in the name o’ reason are you wanderin’ here for? Why ain't ye at home, at the ’equire’s ?” “ We’s jes’ been elar done lost,” interposed Meg. “De Lor’ ealy knows what missus has underwent, and what I’s underwent. We's seen de debble hisself; and we’s been chased! Golly gracious, how we has been chased !” The swordmaker trembled like a leaf. His face was pale as snow. ** What's the matter?” cried Judith, whose aelh ty for others was always active. “ He's goin’ toswound, I s’pect,” suggested e g. “In the forest —all night —alone rT” He stopped; then resumed, in his accustomed manner “ "Twas right lueky, my stumblin’ upon ye, gal. Somethin’ mighty unfortunit migh t happened. Don’t never expose your- self so a. Dame Grindle.” - Judith glanced yracoe 3 at the swordmaker ; she wished to say something, and she said it. “Did you give him the saw?” Her voice was low and tremulous, and it was marvelous that the old man heard it. “The Lord be mareiful to me, yes! "Twas treason, as ‘twere; but for your sake I did it,” said Hirl, musingly, and shaking his head. “My sake !” repeated Dame Grinidle. “Sartin! I — could refuse a a anything. When I went a courtin’ my wife, Bary ro she'd on’y to roll her little black eyes at mo, and smile kinder soft, to make me ran my legs off for her.” Beadle’s Dime Library. The parties had by this time reached the cart. “Don’t be talkin’ "bout sweethearts and sich vanities, when the wheels o’ time are rollin’ at sich an awful rate o’ speed!” ad- monished Dame Grindle, with reproving se- verity. ‘Yes; the wheels have been goin’ pootty fast,” said Hirl, pointing at the cart and the muddy spokes. “They couldn't roll much. faster, I reckon. Got a wounded officer here, if there’s anythin’ left of him ; he’s nighabout shook to bits, I’m afeard. It’s the kurnil. You know the kurnil, don’t ye? Seed him at the camp when ye carried the socks. By the way, them socks oughter be mentioned in the dispatches. Shall speak to Washin’ton *bout ’em, if I happen to run athwart him. Kurnil, you must take in another passenger. Meg, scramble into the cart, and hold the kurnil’s head in your lap; the poor feller is terribly hurt, I s’pect. We must take him down to Squire Redmond’s to be nussed.” Somerton remembered Miss Redmond’s visit, and his haggard face flushed. “ Goody Grindle, you'll set on the seat with me,” added Hirl. Climb up the best way you can. Give me one 0’ ike little bands. There! that’s it. Now, we'll drive to your brother's plantation.” The swordmaker cried “Go “long!” to Crazy, and the mare started off like a race- horse contending for the highest honors of the turf, Hirl prudently put his arm eround Dame GrindJe to prevent her from falling. Tt was very kind of him, indeed. The Whos turned and turned; the axles creaked and creakod ; and trees and bushes went flying past. ‘There was a great deal of sunlight on aN old man’s back, and some on the spinster’s & CHAPTER XI. T# WHICH THE SPY APPEARS. Hirl reached a narrow wagon-road where the traveling was less precarious. Instead of increasing his speed, he went slower. A shrill whistle resounding through the woods caused him to stop, give the reins to Judith, and run abruptly into the forest. This man’s movements were so eecentric, that the colonel was not surprised at this con- duct; but the young woman sent a wishful and perplexed glance after him. “Has he deserted us?” she said. “He is an erratic being,” replied Somer- ton; ‘but I trust he will return.” , The officer, by the aid of Meg, raised him- self to ao sitting posture. The rough ride had shaken him severely, and caused some bleeding of his arm, but in reality had done him no injury ; starting his stagnant circu- lation, it had tended to revive him. His ob- ject was to watch the swordmaker, whose un- comely figure he could see moving amon the trees. He saw aman emerge from a haze thicket, and hasten to meet and shake hands with Hirl. The manner of both was cordial and hearty. “Tis he! I could swear it!” muttered Somerton, shading his eyes with his hand. “The same straight, athletic frame; the same—” “Did you speak to me, sir?” asked Judith. The colonel neither heard nor heeded her. His mind vas occupied with the man with the swordmaker. The interview was short, and Hirl came back at a quicker pace than he left em. ~ Cap'n Hadley,” he said, in answer to the inquiring looks of Judith, “is out for forage with a dozen of his trustiest marauders. They are well mounted and comin’ this way, prob- ably on a visit to Squire Redmond's planta- tion.” Dame Grindle—it is convenient to call her thus—was much affected by this information, Her agitation was at once apres to Hirl. “Don’t tremble, Dame! ’Tisn’t women he's arter, but cattle and provender. I'm sorry for the squire, for they I] make a clean sweep of everything to eat, drink, or wear. But, my word for it, neither you nor the gals shall be harmed. I know that Judith is tim- orsome, and Miriam ready to faint at the sight of a tory or a red uniform (leastways, that was the case when I used to know ‘em at the breakin’ out o’ the diffikilties), but I reck- on that Cap’n Rainford "ll send down a few of his drago’ns to spile the sport of Christian Hadley and his cut-throats. Kurnil, we must hide you im the bushes till arter party asses ; for you see ‘twouldn’t be pro for im to find a revel that’s jest been bible ridin’ in my cart.” “Can’t you drive fast enough to reach the house first ?”” Somerton asked. *“Yos, we might do that, but ’tis easier to hide you here nor there; for, if the creeturs have their way, they'll e’arch the house from top to bottom for plunder. Now, ’twouldn’t be ’greeable for you to be there at sich a time.” “Your face isn’t one that Hadley, or his men, will soon forget,” observed Dame Grin- dle. “Do as you like ; I trust entirely to your judgment,” replied the colonel. ‘ Assist me from the cart, and I’ll show you that I’m worth two dead men yet.” The swordmaker put his right arm around Somerton, and helped him to the ground; he was able to walk quite well, and, steadied by the old man, made his way to a thick cluster of young pines. “Lay down and keep still, and nobody ‘ll find ye,” said Hirl; and with these brief in- structions returned to his cart, where Dame Grindle and Meg awaited him with feverish impatience. “ Now, Crazy,” he added, with remarkable cheerfulness, considering the circumstances, “ we'll see what you can do.” The hunehback sprang to his seat with won- derful alacrity. “Fold on to the sides o’ the cart, yeller irl; cling to my arm, dame, Ho, easy Git away, creetur—git away!” And the rick- ety vebicle ereaked and clattered along the road with surprising rapidity. Had Judith Redmond not been warned that Christian Hadley was behind, she would have been ter- rified by the furious driving of Hirl ; but, for reasons well-known to herself, there was no person living that she feared more than the tory leader. In a short time they came to a clearing. The swordmaker drew up his mare. “T can go no farther,” he said. “Cross this clearing in a direct line to yonder tree, and Squire Redmond’s plantation will be im sight. Make haste; but don’t run too fast, or ou’ll git tired out afore ye git there. Gals, ‘ye observed, a’n’t over an’ above long-wind- ed at a race. And dame, good dame,” be added, in a gentler voice, “ be very keerful of yourself, and don’t\be ketched out ag’in o’ uights for the best ‘spy that ever trod the airth. Guy Deerin’ wouldn't slept a wink if he’d had never so good a chance, pervided he’d knowed that you—that Judith’s a’nt was wanderin’ about in the woods, exposed to all kinds o’ danger. I say it for your good, and I’m sure Guy Deerin’ would say it to you him- self, if he was here,” Dame Grindle’s face was crimson; there appeared no sufficient reason for the sam but the fact was evident. She took the ol man’s hand by a sudden impulse. The con- trast between those two hands was notable— one was so large, the other so small, and the smal] hand trembled less than the large one, which was strange, “Then you are his friend—really his friend ?* she said, with nota icle of Dame Grindle’s shrillness. Whether he heard by instinct, or whether she spoke in his left ear, or whether & woman’s Voice is more readily heard than a man’s, we are not able to state; but Hirl clearly understood her. “T believe—I think Iam. I was, leastways, afore he touched British gold.” “Do not say so—do not, I beg!” she an- swered, letting his hand fall. “You have a leetle—jest a léetle faith in him—m him, the hated and the hunted?” “T have, or if I have not, God knows that Judith Redmond bas; and what she believes, I believe ; and what she thinks, I think.” She brushed tears from her eyes, then added : “He escaped! how much I thank you! Did he give you no message for me or my niece ?” “Dear dame,” answered the swordmaker, in tones that were soft and moving, though not quite steady, “ Guy Deerin’ wh to me before he went, and said: ‘Tell her that my soul is continually kneelin’ at her feet, and pourin’ out words of eternal gratitude br ove. aol te bere her b oy in my cr ves, tho it be no rer 6 mustard, is sufficient to thrill me vik tue. pressible emotion.’”
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While he was speaking, Judith gave him her hand again. “Oh! oh! Did he say that? How well you repeat it! Icould stand and hear you aay it for an hour—for the sake of my niece.” “ And I, for the sake of the pootty dear, sould keep talkin’ it over a whole day. But time must be improved for other purposes. Warn the squire ; tell him to arm all the nig- gere and make his house his castle. There! g°, dame, go!” “Right, old man, right!’ replied Judith, Pie yith a sudden revulsion to the Grindle style. ; ‘I declare if ’tisn’t near noon! Lord, how i. the wheels o’ time are rollin’ us away! We shall soon be clods o’ the valley.” aS “ Not so fas’ as dem yer wagin-wheels,” sug- i ~ Meg. “ Lors! what a hoss dat mare Old Hirl jumped into his cart, turned, it, ay and with another admonition to the females, ec trundled away in o twinkling. Meantime, Colonel Somerton lay in the pine eopese in no cheerful mind, suffering from ex- haustion, hunger, thirst, and pain. He was too much of a soldicr o despair, so made the oe best of it; and after listening awhile for the coming of Hadley, was on the point of falling , asleep, when a cautious tread aroused him. He beheld with alarm man ina slouched hat standing within a few yards of him. The‘hat was drawn over his brow in a manner to part- ly conceal his face, and a large, coarse camp- cloak covered most of his person. This fig- i ure stood quite motionless, looking at the i wounded officer. “ Well, sir?” said the colonel, not knowing | what else to say. “ What's your business?” For a reply, the intrude? raised his hat and threw open bis cloak. “ Guy Deering !” exclaimed Somerton, with f ‘a feeling of uneasiness, for he saw a brace of Pe cavalry pistols protruding from the man’s ae pockets. ie “ By that name you have called me, and by ie that name you would have hanged me!” an- a ewered the spy. _ “ And justly, [believe !” retorted the officer. “Tf I am the man you take me to be,” said the spy, taking hold of one of his pistols, OF are certainly placed in an embarrassin situation. i : According to your views, I shoulc . be your most coy enemy. Look! I cock ah this pistol, thus, and I have only to aim it at \ you, thus, and press this little piece of iron, 5 ap to put you forever beyond the possibility of a, :; hanging Guy Deering.” _ - The man eocked the pistol, but instead of Bs ‘turning its muzzle on Somerton’s person, a, pointed it atatree. The colonel watched tho movement with suspicion. “You ean murder me, no doubt, for I am unarmed and wounded,” he said. ~ a _ “But were you well, mounted on your awift RY horse, end armed from head to foot, and I a es wretched fugitive flying for life, you would a) Se not Laeber 4. Yi after me at the econ of a our neck!” interposed the spy, quickly, and : vith bitterness. Pe mst v “Nothing could be truer!” answered the undaunted mn. “Such would be my ee ' duty.” fo ieee e py re him with singular earnest- ‘mess. His pistol was cocked; he cased the hammer carefully down, and returned the CP to his pocket. “ Youare in my power, Colonel Somerton.” a - & Tt is too true! b. _ The spy again drew the pistol from his pock- et, slowly. “ Honestly, colonel,” he added, with a sar- eastic smile, “ what use do you think I shall make of my power?” “J think you will shoot me with one of these pistols!” replied Somerton, calmly. “Such is your Arm conviction ?” “ Before God, it is!” said Somerton, sol- - émaly. : «Dot “yw ehange the case, colonel. Let us _dmagine tbat you have found me in the woods; Ris ou, on your wer-horse, with sword and pis- m* ’ H, and |, fatigued, weeponless, wounded, and , en foot.” you, if possible; but if R - Au Tone © racks tonsa the spy, suddenly. hood to save may lite officer, ig a tks FSO Hirl, the Hunchback. the pistol upon the ground within reach of the eolone), who looked at him in amazement. “ Your life,” said the spy, “would avail me nothing. Should the real Guy Deering ever fall into your hands, pass this mercy to his credit.” “ Unaccountable man! you still deny your name!” exclaimed the Continental officer, sti] more perplexed. ‘ Who are you?” “ A riddle that you cannot comprehend. I am and Iam not; I am guilty, and I am in- nocent. Believe me, you will never, never know me! Our ways lie different. Hatred and infamy, cursing and bitterness are be- tween us. At the bar of God, only, shall we see each other as we are.” He stopped, and looked upward with an ex- pression alt stern, half melancholy. “Your cause,” he added, presently, “is failing. Royalty will soon triumph. Tarle- ton is on his way hither with his terrible le- gion; he will surprise the Swamp Fox and ou. There is mischief and danger on every Cand: There will be sorrow on the Santee; houses will burn and blood will flow. The scouts of Christian Hadley will not sleep, and a dog cannot bark in your camp without being heard by an enemy.” “ And you can spesk of this,” interposed Somerton, indignantly, “ with calmness ?”’ “Hark! Hadley comes down the wagon- road. Lie still, and farewell!” The spy slouched his hat over his eyes, and turning, disappeared with a Ya and meas- ured step. A few minutes afterward, a tw A of mounted men passed his place of cone ment at a gallop. CHAPTER XII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING, Judith and her maid crossed the clearing. and reached the tree designated by Hirl, They could see the plantation as he had told them, but there was a long stretch of bottom- land to traverse before they could reach the house. Through this bottom-land meandered a small brook, upon the banks of which grew various kinds of bushes, some to considerable altitude. Judith was hurrying on, when Meg suddenly stopped her. When the young lady sharply demanded the reason of this, Meg could only stammer : “O Miss Judith! O Miss Judith !” Luekily she pointed toward the brook, and Judith, following the direction of the finger with her eyes, saw Black Jaffer peering from the bushes, and eagerly watching the road leading to the house. This was a discovery, indeed! It was well for thom it was not made too late. Judith sensibly beat a retreat with- out so much 4s a shriek or a fainting-fit, and Meg had just enough discretion to keep close to her mistress. The runaway black was evi- dently there for no good purpose. He was either waiting their return, or making a sur- yey of the premises with a view to plunder and pillage ; very likely he had both these objects in contemplation. It was necessary, to avoid Jaffer, to make a long detour to the Santee, and this they undertook to do, which could have been accomplished with time and patience, had not a new difficulty prevented, which took the shape of Christian Hadley and a dozen of his lawless followers, who—having arrived as near the plantation as was thought safe, halted ina growth of cypress to make a reconnoisance on foot. Ou account of this circumstance, mistress and maid found them- selves between two perils, neither of which were ‘anticipated, they could not traverse the open space between the eypresses and plantation without being seen, and they could not very well make a cireuit around the party by reason of a cane-brake in the rear; so be- tween Jaffer and Christian Hadley (who was not a bit of a Christian), they were placed in a very embarrassing dilemma. It may be thought by some that pretty young ladies who fascinate folks in novels, can do without food and drink without a great deal of inconven- ience, and sojourn in a wilderness or exist in & dungeon almost any length of time without change of garments, and look interesting all the while. This too common opinion cannot be apne’ to Judith Redmond and Meg, be- ing their case untrue ; for they were really the worse for fasting and ing like dis- tracted ereatures through the tangled thick- ets of the forest. Judith was not so.ethcreal as to rise above the wants of nature, and long abstinence was telling upon her strength. Our heroine wo have eaten heartily, if | she had had a chance ; and it would have been, considering the exertion yet required of her, avery sensible thing. But little of the prim- ness and precision of her assumed character remained, so far as apparel had to do with it. Her gown was rent in many places ; her high- - heeled shoes and yesterday immaculate hose, . were soiled with the black mud of the swamp, and her not ample skirts, short as they were, were wretchedly painted with the same un- lovely pigment. Neither mistress nor maid - would have been thought angels ina drawing- - room at that time. But fear is a marvelous dlunter of oP etite and fastidiousness, Both might possibly have forgotten the pressin demands of appetite, had not weakness ad- . monished them of the fact. Hiding like par- tridges in the bushes, they heard nothing for a time but the thumping of their own hearta. By-and-by, Judith’s natural courage revived, and she began to debate the best method of reachinghome. It was aorpting moving in any direction; but Judith felt the imperative necessity of warning her father and his house- hold of the calamity that impended. Fears for her personal safety were in a maasure coun- terbalanced by an unselfish solicitude for her friends. She remembered that she had been out all night, too, and that the greatest anxi- ety must be felt for her safety, which her pree- ence would at once relieve. She watched the eypress-trees and the bot- tom-land a long time; but Jaffer kept at his post, and she could see the horses of the tories grazing near the cane-brake, and aman standing guard over their mevements. Jud- ith commenced a cautious rétrograde toward the wagon-road, where she had parted with the sword-maker. Meg, though quite deject- ed, was guided by her superior judgment without question. They climbed a hedga, and stood in the road. They had gained something, being farther from both enemies Looking up the wagon-road, Judith saw a man in a slouched hat and blue camp-cloak, ap- proaching with hurried strides. Her first im- pulse was to fly; but something familiar in the gait and person of the new-comer caused her to remain irresolute. The man saw her, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and eager- ly advanced. Various emotions chained her to the spot. She would have been troubled to designate the predominant feeling of her heart. She felt pleasure, surprise, and fear. Guy Deering sprang to her side, and took - the unresisting hand in his. 2 “ Judith,” he said,“ this is a pleasure that I did not expect.” “You know me, then, through my dis- guise ?” she said, with a faint glow of happi- ness. - “ Love cannot be deceived ; itlooksthrough . all disguise as though it were transparent,” repli peete “ And yet I have passed for Dame Grindle - with those whose eyes are not of the dullest. A quaint old hunchback, who knows you, ~ Guy, believes me, for all the world, to be Dame Grindle.” “One does not always know the thoughts - of others,” said the zone man, gazing fend- _ ly at the sweet face that was already blushing |. at his earnestness. “The old swordmaker - might have been wiser than you thought him. * But tell _ Judith, why you are thus mas- ue : 2 ? A glow on the maiden’s cheeks deepened. She reflected before answering. cS “ Tt seems to me,' she said, “ that you know something of this without my telling. It comes to me—no one has told me—that there is a mysterious connection between you and the old man Hirl. He gave you the saw; he refused gold, and a strange emotion shook him as I appealed to his sympathy for the 8 iv.” A ny It was not an ingenuous question,” an- ewered Deering, in a deep and kindly voice, _ “to ask concerning this disguise. Yes, Judith, T know what you have rinse _ man whispered it to me through cabin wall, and oy admiration and gratitude were such that I wished to lie down at your feet and die for you. Did the old churl tell you?” - “Churl! For shame, Guyi Call him not auch a name,” exclaimed Judith. “He is a noble old man, and & eo He saved you, he saved Somerton, and he has saved me!” “ Sich a hoss as dat yer mare is, nebber wae seen! She goes an’ she goes as though the debbie hisse’f was in dem legs o’ hern!” ia- . terposed Meg, who was disposed to be: ele- é j
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7 -3 4a DB ASP. yar 4 16 quent respecting Hirl’s mare. ‘“ He’s jest the queerest old daddy! Sometimes he neaks like a fife; den agi’n, his v’ice runs ol’ar down into his stomich like a bassoon. Sometimes he ean’t hear t’under; den, bime- by, he’ll hear de soft little v’ice o’ Misa Ju- dith. "Deed he will!” mee Deering smiled. “ Those beign eyes were not given the wench for not ing, he said; then turning seriously to Judith, added: “ Why are you here? Were you not instructed to cross the clearing, and reach home without delay?- What has happened? You could not have been intercepted by the tories, for they went not that way. They should be concealed in that wood.” ““ We encountered a horrible danger. That dlack demon, Jaffer, of whose enormities you have heard, and from whose hands we escaped last night, was lying in wait down in the bot- tom-land beside the brook. We attempted to go around by the river, but were inter- cepted by the outlaw Hadley. This is why I am here. Now it is my turn to question: Why do you tarry in the midst of danger? There is a price on your head! You are like Cain; he that finds you may slay you. O Guy Deering! was it for this that I loved ou, with your noble powers, your generous pulses? How soul you adopt a life so in- famous? If you must indeed be an enemy of freedom, why not enter the ranks and fight like a man for your cause? One may respect an open enemy.” Deering’s head sank lower and lower, till his chin rested upon his chest. He sighed, and looked at Judith as one asking pity and “Spies,” he muttered, “ are the indispens- able attendants of war; they are employed by both armies. You will find them in the eamp of Washington, and in the camp of Cornwallis. If we do according to our con- sciences, what matters our employment ?” “Leave me, Guy Deering! leave me for- ever !” cried Judith, with sudden vehemence. “Never come into my presence again. You are infamous! you are infamous!” Judith shrank from Deering, shuddering and angry. Deering’s face grew pallid. All the life seemed to have gone out of his athletic body. There was no moisture in his eyes ; they were cold and glassy, and fixed vacantly on Judith. His hands hung at his side despairingly. He heard the words “Infamous ! infamous!” ring- ing in his ears. He knew what voice uttered them ; that was what struck him to the heart. While he felt the steel, he would have kissed the hand that struck. Judith grew handsomer, taller, stronger, prouder, braver, and more adorable. Pres- ently, Deering raised his hands with the palms tarned entreatingly to Judith. The motion was terribly eloquent. She inter- preted the a “ Spare you? No! Have you spared me? Have you not turned my love into a curse? Have go borne contumely and reproach for you? O Guy Deering! if you had died in the battles of liberty, I should have been this agony—this blushing, burning, blighting shame! \ e spy raised his hands higher, till they appealed not to the human but to the super- human—G od. Judith stood panting and flashing at him like lightning. **T have done with weakness,”’ she went on. “This confession from you and its lame justi- fieation has opened my eyes. I will pray for you—I will try to forgive you; but with my consent we shall never meet again, Go, Guy Deering, to those miscreants in whose unholy service you are, and forget Judith Redmond.” The measured gallop of horses was heard. Deering did not ns aie He felt that no greater calamity co ppen. Tramp! poi Clatter! clatter! The sounds drew nearer. “Gol” said Judith. “It may be those whom you would not care to see.’ Deering did not stir. Judith looked up the m-road, and saw two horsemen, they were Se t Giles and the chaplain. “Go! go!” cried Judith. “'‘l ay ere ene- mies indeed, for they are from Somerton’s yoo ag To me, they bring safety, to you, “ Death , in s hollow ” Deering woiee, “Yes, it ie death; I have received Beadle’s Dime Library. the sentence from your lips. Let them come ; I care not for life.” “ What! will you not obey one request of mine? Is this your love, that you stay when [bid you go? Would you revenge ~ourself on me by dying at my feet?” “Revenge? No, no!” I would not give you such pain,” answered the spy, his gener- ous impulses recalled by her words. He glanced along the narrow vista of the road, and saw Giles and the chaplain. Judith eagteny imploringly to the forest. He gave er an earnest, mournful look, and gathering his cloak about him, and drawing his hat over his brow, walked swiftly away. CHAPTER XIII. THE SERGEANT AND THE CHAPLAIN. “ Who's that runnin’ away ?’’ demanded the sergeant, with more than usual bluster, as he drew up his horse, vy & powerful pull at the bridle, close to Judith, ; “ Dear me! how reckless you sojer-lads do ride! But, arter all, it’s a good thing to be in a hurry, for the wheels o’ time are rollin’ at sich a rapid rate, We shall soon be clods o’ the valley, sergeant,” said Judith, in a cracked voice, and with a highly instructive manner. “ Confound the wheels o’ time and the clods o’ the valley!’ quoth Jim Giles, in military rage. “I see a man dash into the woods as we were comin’ this way, and I want to know if you’re holdin’ correspondence with the in- emy.” . “'Twas a friend ob de family, I 'spect,” said Meg, wriggling and grinning. “ It’s aswift pair of heels that can’t be over- taken!” said Giles, stoutly, and, atriking his spurs into his horse, dashed off in the direc- tion that Deering had disappeared, with more speed than caution, and to the no small haz- ard of running against a tree, or transfixing himself upon a limb. He was absent but a few moments, and came back in a great men- tal heat. Planting himself directly before Goody Grindle, he frowned in a sinister fash- ion, shaking his finger at her mysteriously. “T set ye down for a mischief-makin’ witch the fust time I put eyes on ye, and now I’ve ot proof on’t. I'll report ye, mum, to Cap’n inford and the colonel, providin’ he ever turns up ag’in,” he was good enough to say, in the most rebuking manner he could as- sume, , fais “ Lor’, sergeant! you'll scar’ Miss Bessy to death!” pe Mest “Of what grave crime do you accuse the ood woman?” inquired the chaplain, who ridden to the spot more deliberately, and had till this moment sat gravely and silently upon his horse. “‘ Of treason, Parson Humphrey! Who do you think, my gentleman, was that was run run’ away? ’Twas the spy, sir!—'twas Deer. in’ !—the lad whose palms have sich an itch- in’ for British gold!” replied Giles, with a great flourish of virtuous indignation. “Je this so?” demanded Humphrey, stern- ya turning his hard, impassive face upon Ju- th “Tt’s little satisfaction that you'll git of a woman, parson. A wild goose never laid tame egg,” said the sergeant, banging his sword against the pommel of his saddle. “Be not over-hasty, sergeant, for the wo- man hath not yet spoken Me or Day and there may be some error in thy ju gnc Let us act in the fear of God, and George Washington, and the Continental Congress. Hold thy peace, while I question her in s proper and becoming fashion.” en addressing Judith: “ Be not stricken with fear, worthy spinster; for the soldiers of liberty scorn to take advantage of woman's weakness. Tell me truly—and thy candor shall not go for nothing, should the dolonel think it his duty to inquire into this matter— was it indeed that man of Belial, Guy Deer’ ing, that but now fled from hence? A lie, though it promise good, will do thee harm; and truth will do thee good at the last.” “Goodness gracious, Parson Humphrey! what a sarmont you're preachin’! As for the matter of bein’ skeered, you might saved ourself the trouble of talkin’ about it. The rd love ye! do ye s’pose Betsey Grindle is afeard of a blusterin’ Tittle sergeant and @ slow-goin’ po x Sergeant Giles scowled terrifically; but Humphrey’s countenance did not change im the slightest particular. “T could told ye at fust, if you'd only ask- ed me, that 'twas as honest a Ind as ever walk- ed that left me as you eome thunderin’ up. Why, that was young Deerin’ that used come sparkin’ my niece afore things come to sich a dreadful pass as they are now. Ah, me! how the world changes! The wheels o’ time are rollin’ us away, and we shall soon be clods o’ the valley.” “ Woman, you either know a great deal, or you don’t know much!” cried Humphrey “A wise man knows the fool, but the foo} don’t know the wise man,” said Giles, unbend- ing his brows a trifle. “Goodness, parson! you look as though you could put a whole rigiment to flight,” added Judith—who, to do her justice, took the character of her maiden-aunt with remarka- ble truthfulness to life. “ Proper glad you and the sergeant have come, for I’ve got a nice little job for you to do—a couple on ’em, for that matter. The fust is, to go down where you see them tall cypresses, and cut up about s dozen tories that are led by that wicked creetur, Christian Hadley.” The sergeant began to cool, and the shap- Iain lovked searchingly toward the eyprese growth. “You're so bold, and speak wp so sharp and courageous to two lone women—one of ’em nothin’ but a yaller gal—that you're ca- able of anythin’, and won't mind that hand. Fal o’ men more’n you would a handful o” hazel-nuts. Then, there’s Colonel Somerton bleedin’ his life away for nothin’, when he oughter be at the squire’s in bed, with a room fall of army-sargeons round him.” “Good woman, your words astonish me!” said Humphrey. “Don’t ‘good woman’ me; for the Bible says, ‘there’s none good—no, not one.’ The colonel was saved, and no thanks to you nor the fiery sargeant, but to the Swordmaker of the Santee, whe brought him away from Chris- tian Hadley’s camp in his cart, as fit for noth- in’ but to bury. ’Pearances are deceptive, and so was the colonel.” “ Sergeant Giles, we’re stupid fellows,” said Humphrey, thoughtfully. ‘“ We've been tak- ing this io uacious housewife to task, and it turns out that she has more useful informa- tion than the whole brigade. Worthy da: ean you inform us where to find Colonel Som- erton ?” The chaplain glanced uneasily toward the cover of the tories. By rising in his stirrups, he could catch a glimpse of their horses om the margin of the canebrake. “ He’s about « mile from here, by the side of this wagon-road, on the right; but you needn't trouble yourselves—Old Hirl’ll look arter him. He’s one o’ the wonderfulest old men you ever see. He isn’t handsome; and there’s a bunch on his back most as large ae the sergeant. What he undertakes he goes through with. But the wheels o’ time are rollin’ him away, and he’ll soom by a elod of the valley.” “He hath need of a long that supe with the devil!” quoth Giles, mysteriously. A shuffling step was heard, and the hunch- back was discovered turning down the road. He evinced no surprise at seeing the parties. “Hurry up, old man,” said Giles; hurry up, and open your budget !” But Hirl was not in a mood to hear readi- ly, and advanced, muttering : “ Allers in trouble—allers! Fust it’s one thing, then another. If ‘tisn’t neuralagy, it’s rheumatics ; if ’tisn’t rheumaties, it’s agur, om soine other eperdemic.” He stopped near the sergeant, and leaned on his long musket. “Fine times these, when the sojers o’ lib- erty has nothin’ to do but ride about. Now, ‘f I's one o’ Somerton’s drago’ns, I wouldn’t be loiterin’ about when there’s sich an ak mighty host of mean creeturs to be carved. Why in the name o’ Washin’ton don’t ye drive our spurs into them hulks o’ hosses, ht fly right straight E the inemy, to ent an’ to slash, to bagonet an’ to stick, to shoot an’ to smash, to lance an’ to gash, till the "Merican eagle flops its wings, and crows itself into fits? Ah, ifl wason’y young an’ actyve!” “ Brag is a good dog, bat Holdtast is bet ter,”’ sneered Gilca. Hirl took i, ea musket, examined the lock, and then limped round a little, appax ently self-absorbed, or lest in some errativ
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famey that wouldn’t let him rest. By-and-by, he came out, or rather leaped suddenly from this abstraction, and, turning abruptly upon 4 Soest and Giles, shrieked - by “ Why do ye stay when every minnte is pre- cious? Back to Rainford, and tell him Som- erton is alive, and that he (Rainford) is ex- ted to do duty for both! Back, and tell m to charge upon the camp of the tories in the swamp while Hadley is away! Tell him to give no quarter, but to swing the sabre without mercy; for they are robbers, mur. a derers,.all !” The swordmaker paused— exhausted, ap- yw by his extraordinary vehemence. ach of the parties looked at him with sur. rise. “Tell him, also,” resumed Hirl, “to send r & dozen troopers down to Squire Redmond’s; | for his or is beset, and he and his are ia er ” y ‘Are these your orders or the colunel’s ?” demanded the sergeant, coolly. ; “The colonel’s,” answered Hirl, quickly. te “And if I've repeated 'em once to m self es I've repeated ’em forty times, so I could de. liver °em word for word; and I b’lieve I’ve t done it. I was goin’ to find Cap’n Rainford myself, but there won't be no need on’t now, z if you "tend to the business as you ought to. ai Don’t fear bout Somerton, for I'll take him to Th the squire’s in my cart, soor,’s there’s a chance Bes: te do it. So, scamper ; Iad’s, seamper!” | The chaplain rode close to Judith, and bending from the saddle, whispered into the at bonnet that disguised the pretty face. “ Can this man be trusted? Ought we to deliver this message, think you, good woman ?’ ; “He is an oracle! Follow his directions to By the letter—for I know enough of him to have be the strongest confidence in what he says.” “Truly, his mind seemeth greatly shattered x and befogged ; but the Lord sometimes uses Lj feeble inetrumentalities to accomplish mighty works; so I will even do the old man’s bidding y in much haste.” ie While this whispered conversation was go- - ing on, the swordmaker limped round again y in a circle, dragging his musket after him. , ae “My name is Hirley—Hirl for short— _ thoug ill-mannered people eall me Old Hirl, Es Deef Hirl, Crazy Hirl, and sich. No matter, } oe no 4) var? Shall live jest as. long for't. 'Tisa‘t every one can put sich a temper into a > steel as Ican, or sich an edge to a eword, or sich a p’int toa bagonet.” , “ And 'tisn’t every oue that has sich a hump on his back!” said Giles, turning his horse and following the chaplain, who was alrea\ly f in motion, ; ‘% “ Ride fast, bors. ride fast, and deliver the 4 colonel’s message jest as I told it to you,” ad- ‘ monished Hirl. a Humphrey eheeked his horse, and asked aa pers over his shuulder, if she was safe in es t exposed situation, alone ? Bee: She peinted to the ewordmaker, and said, cs with armile: | ¥ “A , “T have a: rotector.”’ ca “To the death! to the death!” muttered f Fiirl; and tlie chaplain and the sergeant gal- loped away. 7 (Nee ‘ —s rT - ee _ cL “ CHAPTER XIV. BLACK JAFFER FINDS SOMERTON. ; ‘Somerton reflected a long time about his me, ebance interview with the man who persisted Br) in calling himself Max Henderson. He could . not divest himself of the idea that the char- acter in which that person had been taken, was the true one ; in short, that he was a spy whatever name he might choose to assume. _ The colonel’s heart, despite his high notions of duty, warmed a little toward him, and tried to find reasons for his conduct. His first impressions were the clearest and the best—for the wry he speculated, the more he having reached th secret path, trodden only by himeifandetes . ot in good PPointed—once rf He was a mastiff robbed of | as natur’ intended it. What's been oint on? it, Hirl, the Hunchback. trickled from the latter's arm. The negro’s eyes rested upon this trail, and stooping till he resembled a great black dog, he followed it. This was unpleasant. However brave a man nay be constitutionally, there are situa- tions in which he may feel nervous and un- comfortable without reproach to his manhood. Loss of blood and weakness robs » man of a portion of his firmness, Somerton could not remember that he ever experienced such a singular feeling of awe and repugnance. A full-blooded black ie seldom a very agreeable object to contemplate, even when his features are not exaggerated, but when his nose is of the flattest, his forehead of the lowest, and his lips of the thickest, with a savage nature to match, and a long knife in his girdle, be is positively repulsive. The colonel was of this opinion, and grew stronger in it as Jaffer drew nearer, dilating his nostrils, and smelling like a hound. Somerton thought of the pistol that Henderson had dropped beside him, and stretching out his hand, grasped it with a feel- ing of relief. It was primed. Cautiously cocking it, he concealed it beneath the ekirt of his coat. Jaffer scented game. Lifting his black and half nude body, he peered into the pines. His white eyes rolled with sudden eagerness, for they rested upon the gold epaulettes and bright buttons of the officer. Cunning and cupidity were instantly at work.’ ‘That the officer was wounded, he assured himself by 2 closer ap- proach, and go far as he could determine, un- armed. There was a period of doubt with the negro; the doubt dia not arise from any want of purpose, but related wholly to the cvlonel’s ability or inability to defend himself. A glance at the latter’s bandaged arm, satu- rated hair, and begrimmed gad haggard fage, settled everything in the mind of the black, who now assumed a most sinister attitude. He had thrust forword a large, bare foot, laid his right band on the handle of his knife, and thrown forward his muscular body A white row of shovel-teeth gleamed through two inches of red lip. This animal looked apish and horrible. There was no need of specch ; his purpose was patent ail over him. Somerton watched him with a steady gaze. He saw the muscles of his arms begin to swell and quiver, and knew that he was about to fly at him. His pistol came from its hiding-place, and to a line with the great bundle of animal in # second, and the report followed as quickly. There was first a roar, then a bow], then much crashing and flound-~ ering in the bushes. Somerton thought he was done for, but after rolling about, and somersaulting a little while, Jaffer got up and. went moaning away, the courage entirely taken out of him. Somerton sank upon the ground entirely exhausted. For a time he lost consciousness, He neither heard Giles nor Humphrey come o go, though they passed close to his concea]- ment. The voice of the swordmaker was the first thing he sensed. The apts pistol in his hand, the trampled and stained grass, and the bushes beaten down, assured the old man that something had happened. He took the weapon and examined it, muttering * “He’s been here! he’s been here! It was well for the colonel, Come, sir,’ he added, in a louder voice, “rouse yourself—rouse yourself! I’ve come arter ye, and brought ye somethin’ to put life into ye. "Tis brandy, kurnil ; take a good swig on’t.” The officer eagerly drank from the flask which Hirl held to his lips. It was like drink- ing in new life. He felt a warm glow in his atomach and blood, and presently an en- couraging exhilaration of spirits. “Tt's a ee medicine,” said the sword- maker, “if it isn’t used too common; but like fire, it becomes a hard master when it once gits the upper hand. Now your eyes in to flash, and your heart begins to glow, It looks round here as if a bear been turnin’ summersets, and piteh-polin’ about giner’ly.” Somerton sat up and endeavored to explain what had occurred. LE “Tt was black Jaffer!” said Hirl, his teeth hard together. “I hope you split his raseally heart, for a wiekeder creeturnever run away hive 4 plantation or hid ir a sw: But where'd you git this leetle weepon ero ‘The swordmaker twirled the pistol in his | 7 7 , SSN Ee ee TT led me such a chase. Yes, the man that I me a weapon which saved me from the clutch- do you make of all this ?” he wasn’t Guy Deerin’ at all, and you ketched as actual guilt. The ery of ‘mad dog’ was fatal to poor Tray. field, with forty rods the start, and jst my fellows dash after spy!’ and you'd be likely to take to the bush, guilty or innocent. I mean to say, that the fact of your running wouldn't be sufficient evidence to hang you.” ble earnestness, his mind wandering, apps- rently, to some other time and place. word, as well as I could remember ’em; and my mem'ry, cousiderin’ my age, is oncom- mon,” he added, while Somerton was yet won dering at the inypressiveness of his last re- mark, ‘| ye. «That's the strangest part of its Though ‘ you were a Yankee, you eouldn’t guess. It was the spy who escaped in some unae- ceuntable way from the cabin last night. Yes, the very man that swam the river end hunted down like a stag, and would have hanged like a dog, found me here and did not kill me, though he stood over me armed, and I utterly at his merey. Nay, more, he left es of that execrable black. Now, sir, whas “| make neither head nor tail on’t. P’r’ape the wrong dog by the ear when you “es him up . pe ad his conduct oa i ty queer. If he’d been an honest lad, he wouldn't run a step at sight of youand your drago’ns.” ‘I’m not sure on that point, old man. Sus- picion is sometimes as bad in its consequences Set you out in the ou, shouting ‘A spy! a “Right, sir, right!’ said Hirl, with nota- “Tye sent your orders, kurnil, word fer » Urders?" he repeated, inquiringly. “J hare given no orders; nor bave I been in a condition to for the last twelve hours.” “ Jes' so! But I remembered that you teld me to keep sayin’ ’em over so I did,” said Hirl, with a chuckle of satisfaction. “I fel) in,” he went on, “ with the serg-ant feller and the parson, and cent the whole budget by them. Sez 1. ‘The kurnil wants ye to charge right ; into the thickest of them tories, an’ cut an’ slash, an’ smite an’ smash, an’ lance an’ gash, till they take to their heels like a streak o” daylight arter sundown. And tell’em,’ sez I, ‘that the kurnil says, that the miscreant’ (that was the tarm that 1 Wiieve ou made use on) —‘that the miscreant, Hadley, with a small force, is lurkin’ about Squire Redmond’s >i plantation, with a view to ran off his cattle, firmer nor the Bank o’ Bagland, and has al- Faas lers stuck to me, thus fur, like a brother. It's ys ee ry anent institution, and there’s no dan, ad it’s elippin’ down or turnin’, like < ae. Natur’ buc 1016, | it on tormented tight, I tell “Somerton laughed, and felt better for the at fust, 'spe- r an’ bigg / fhe nates 4 gall Ve etal aw ‘ chal , += he war oie fe aa af eek "PRET S Peeve SL GENE. pater ee + ~~ at. ee Py bs . ce eo : bo ASSES cp eee Or rs FON SANA ee
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13. Beadle’s Dime Library. t along ’thout it now. I’ve had doctors an’ octors ; but ’twa’n’t nomannero’use. Some of ’em snickered and said they didn’t know whether ’twas best to cut me off of it or not; and they scurcely knew which part to save, if they tackled me.” y this time the swordmaker had got the officer to the eart, and into it. They rolled toward the plantation ; but turned into a by- roail, just before they came within sight of it. “ We shall have a good chance from here,” said Hirl, “to see your drago’ns show their rit and their milit’ry p’ints; and we eha’n’t ave to wait long, neither, ‘less I’ve miscal’- lated the distance. If there’s anything that I like to see, it’s a charge of calvary.” Somerton smiled, and regarded the uncon- scious face of the swordmaker with interest. At the expiration of half-an-hour, the clat- ter of hoofs announced the approach of the expected party. Leaving the colonel, Hirl ran to the middie of the road, and hailed the dragoons as they came up. They were led by Giles—the chaymin attending, as a volunteer. There were thirteen of them, the latter in- eluded. “Hold up, so lad!” erica the swordmaker, eddressing Giles. “The king’s business requires haste, and you'll please get out o’ the road, my fine old gentleman,” replied the sergeant. “T like not to hear you epeak of the king’s business,” said the chaplain, gravely, “ he we are in the service of God, and the Conti- nental Congress, and George Washington.”’ “Goslings lead the geese to water,” re- torted Giles, with great wisdom; “but par- sons don’t lead the dragoons to a charge, nor dictate to old campaigners. Old hunchback, stand from ander” The lest period, of course, rus directed at Hirl, who, planted firmly in the road, with his old musket, with its Seeks ugly bayonet, seemed to dispute farther progress. “ The greater haste, the less speed, if prov- erbs ye must have!” retorted Hirl, compos- edly. “If you'd on’y be patient, and hear what s body has to say, afore castin’ your wise sayin’s into his teeth, you'd save both time and breath—maybe, a blunder or two. I want an escort for a wounded man, as fur as Squire Redmond’s.” “Out o’ the way, swordmaker! We can’t atop for wounded men; fr our business is to make more o’ that sort. Captain Rainford is by this time ridin’ full tilt through the tory camp, and there’s great doin’s in the eypress- brake I'm achin’ to lay hands on Christian Hadley; so give us a clear course, that we may sooner be at the work of crackin’ skulls, which is a good business when well follered.” “Stop one moment, friend Giles. The rider shouldn't go faster than his horse,” said the chaplain. ‘Old man,” he added to the ewordmaker, “ whatis the name of this wound- ed person for whom you want axescort? Our force, you perceive, is smali- we 2an ill spare @ single drsgoon.” j “It's nobody but the kurnil!” eried Hirl. “Colonel Somerton! Why the devil didn’t you say so ?” roared the sergeant. “Nay! thou shouldst not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain!” remonstrated Humphrey. y * Jes’ so!” eaid Hirl, shouldering his mus- ket./ “I knowed you'd think it worth while to pay a little attention to the kurnil, who’s out yonder in the cart, as mild as a jamb, as patient as a suckin’ dove, and nighabout as weak. This way, you fiery drago'ns. Don’t tread onto me with your rampaganous cree- turs! You see I can't go so fast as I used to could when my legs was strangers to the rheumatics. Lord love ye, sergeant, if I was as I was twenty years ago and up’ard—and it may be nigher thirty, now I come to think on't—I’d buy jest the smartest creetur in the way of four-footed hoss, that could be found in the whole length and breadth of the land, and I'd saddle him, and I’d bridle him, and I'd git me a sword, and a pistil, and a gun and a bagonet, and a hoss-trumpet, and I'd run sich a rig, and blow sich blasts up an’ down the Santee, that the goddess o’ liberty would jest throw down her cap, and tread on’t I would, by Satan!” In making this stirring the sword- maker yor a short in the pe, and ot 80 excited, that he one near in ser- ae ith his bayonet. Yo t's horse w y ) a mwo- ment, he appeared transformed into a declama- tory old +4 ore “Go "long, you old crazy-head! You'll de some mischief yet with that toad-sticker. I’ve heerd ye talk afore, but I never see ye do nothin’. ’Tisn’t talkin’, my old man-moun- tain, that = us the victory ; but the real ive-an’-take, rough-an’-tumble fightin’ that. oes the work. Toddle on, mister ; toddle on.” The old man limped forward with such zeal, that the parties were soon beside the cart. “How are you, brave lads?” said the colonel. “Upon my word, I’m glad to see you! I've had a hard time since I was captured by Had- ley ; but, thanks to this good man, I’m ina fair way to lead you to victory again in a few days. My wounds, I trust, are not very so- rious.” “We'd given ye up for lost at the camp,” replied Giles. ‘Rainford felt mighty bad; and so we all did, for that matter. The cap’n said he’d s’arch high and low but he'd find ye, dead or alive. He was ready to hug me when told him that we’d fell in with the huncb- back, and you's alive. The orders you sent are bein’ obeyed. Before this time, Rainford is hackin’ away at the tories.” “T thank you all for your solicitude on my account. Now, sergeant, ride down yonder, ‘and feel of those fellows in the eypresses. When you have put them to flight, come to me for further orders. Ah, here is Chaplain Humpbrey! Humphrey, how wae fe do ?” “ Ag well as the Lord wills,” said the chap- lain, grimly. “I’m a rough soldier of the cross and of Washington, and ought not to complain of troubles and trials that endure but for a day; and which will, in the end, bring joy and gladness. Colonel, with your ermission, I will charge with the sergeant ; for, it is my belief, that steel may be used in a good cause, and, when wielded stoutly and prayerfully, put the men of Belial in salu- tary fear, causing them to look more heed- fully to their ways, and to keep in view the latter end of the wicked.” The sergeant made a movement to go. “Don't be in a hurry, soger-creeturs ! Guess I’d better make a little bit of a speech afore ye smash into ’em.” ; Hin! mowntéd his cart; and holding his old hat in his left hand, and his musket in the other, said : vt. ¥ “Fiery drago’ns, pea inemies is yonder. They are wrong, and you are right. They fight for plunder—you for liberty! There's a great diff’rence in your principles in the sight 0° God, and that’s everything in a fight. Remember all you've ever heerd about the goddess o’ liberty and the eagle o’ freedom.” “The hunchback has turned parson!” mut- tered Giles. ; “He might have said something not as much to the point,” said Humphrey. “Come on, boys!” oried the sergeant, and off went the dragoons. —_— CHAPTER XV. AT THE PLANTATION, Somerton and the swordmaker watched the progress of Giles with interest. At first, he was hidden by trees; but presently breaking cover, he was in sight of both them and the enemy, and mieten forward at a gallop. The dragoons were met at the margin of the cy- ress growtii by a volley of pistols and mus- ets, but dashed in upon the tories in gallant style. The latter had had sufficient warning of the sergeant’s approach to mount and pre- pare for resistance. As the dragoons entered the wood, Hadley cheered his men, and a sharp conflict followed. Somerton heard with impatience the shouts of the combatants, the ringing of sabres, and occasionally the rever- berating sound of wusketry. His martial spirit was aroused. He felt mechanically for his sword, but a twinge of pain in the arm that was wont to wield it, reminded him of the humiliating fact that he was wounded and —- he royalists yielded ground, and were finally driven from the eypresses into the open space between them and the cane-brake, where they made a brief stand. Being hotly , and some of their number slain, they put spurs to their horses, and sought safe in flight. The grim figure of the chaplain was observed by Somerton to be the first and most headlong in pursuit. “He wields the sword full better he preaches the word.” said the colonel, with a er Se ee ee The old man stood ing his musket with both hands, his face turned with intense eagerness toward the scene of the affray. The remark of the officer aroused him, “Yes ; he fights the battles of the Lord im right-down airnest. See! he is close at the heels of Hadley. I shouldn’t wonder if he took the creetur! Obsarve that weepon o’ his glitter in the sun! It is as powerful as the sword of the spirit to the cleavin’ asunder of j’ints and marrer, flesh and sinews. The tories have reached the road, as many of ’em as are left. And now, kurnil, we'll be mor. in’. Can you set on a hoss?” “ What horse ?” asked Somerton, dubiously. “Crazy, of course! A mare’s a hosa, I s’pose,” replied Hirl, beginning to detech Crazy from the cart, while the colonel son- sidered the auimal with not a little distrust aud uneasiness ; for the creature’s bones looked uncomfortably near the surface. “Good heaycns!” exclaimed the officer; “ the beast can’t sustain my weight.” “If you break her down, you'll be ob to pay damages, that’s all. She’s too vally- able a creetur to be throwed away, as ’twere. But you'll find her backbone pootty toler’ble strong, I reckon. Ill lead her up aside the cart, and you can tumble on from the wheel. If in ean stick on, you'll do well enough. If I had a saddle, I’d offer it to ye with pleas- ure ; but sho’isn’t as sharp as a knife, kurnil, and you may find a harder seat afore ye die.” With a wry face, the colonel mounted Crazy from the cart; and the valorous knight of La Mancha never cut a more sorrowful figure on the famed steed Rosinante. “Your sweetheart oughter see ye,” said Hirl, with a quiet chuckle. “ Hark!” he add- ed, quickly; “ a at it again; there’s fightin’ in the r Come on! I'll throw down the fences, and we'll go across the fields.” Somerton submitted to this arrangement, and followed the old man with as mu hil- osophy as he could call to his aid. With Hirl limping along wefore him, he crossed a field, and found himeelf presently in the road leading to Redmond’s residence. The din and confusion in the forest had reatly increased. “Something new has happened,” said Som- erton. “All that noise is not produced by Giles and bis twelve men.” “ You are right, kurnil, others have j'ined the battle Look! the fiery drago’ns are re- treatin’ from the woods. we 4 come this way! The tories are gittin’ the best on’t What does it mean, I wonder?” “That Hadley has received reinforcements . from his camp. Perhaps the whole neat of them are retreating before Rainford.” “Right, kurnil! I can hear the muskets of your brave lads,” answered the sword- maker. “But what is that ?” exclaimed Somerton, casting his eyes in the opposite direction. “It is the advance guard of Tarleton’s legion, by heavens!” eried the hunchback, with startling omy “ Old man, you have a singular faculty of knowing the movements of the enemy,” re- plied the colonel, suspiciously. “ Hurry, kurnil, hurry, for there’s no time to lose! Them fellers restin’ on the skirt ©’ the wood yender b’long to Tarleton, and there'll be hot work. No tellin’ who'll occu- yy Redmond’s house by sunset.” “We need Marion!—we need Marion!” exclaimed Somerton. “You shall have him! The sergeant and the chaplain, with as many of the dozen as survive, come clatterin’ arter us. Well, you'll need ’em as a body-guard. The best thing ou can do is to post ‘em round the house to eep it from bein’ plundered, till the day is decided.” « You take it for granted that there will be a battle.” “JT do,” replied Hirl. “I know there'll be a battle. ready Tarleton exults in the thought of victory ; but Marion, sir—Marion and his men will rob the dog of his bone, and he’ll go away growlin’” “T hope your words are poomeetie: but if Tarleton comes to the scratch, I assure yom old man, I'll have a hand in it. Though had twenty wounds, I would not lie in bed, and hear the conflict, without guiding and it by yp pienso and authority.” Giles and chaplain rode up, pantin with numerous marks of the skirmish.on thet
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rR ae SEI Sie: Hirl; the Hunchback. NEL FEL A AO PORTE TRA OTS Te eet 20 W Pe Seay eee th ~ : | 19 persons. Somerton ordered Giles to enllect as many of his comrades as he could find, and await his further commands at Redmond’s, whose house they were now near. As the ewordmaker ‘was climbing the eminence on which it stood, Jndith suddenly appeared be- @re him. ‘The old man stopped as quickly es if an enemy had met him at a charge | bayonet. Colonel Somerton is welcome,” she ssid, with a friendly smile, and a graceful courtesy to that officer. Then, in a hurried, half-whis yered voice to Hirl “Tt seems that my wor- thy aunt bas been masquerading. If you value her friendship, or my good-will, do sot, in any manner, refer to any knowledge you may have of her conduct sinee yesterday.” “Bo at your ease,” answered the eword- maker, in the same tone. “J comprehend— I'll obey your wishes.” Then, raising hie voice. “ My name is Hirley ; Hirl, for short. though ill-mannered people call me Old Hirl Decf Hirl, Crazy Hirl, and sich.” “My Aunt Grindle,” resumed Judith, “is eccentric in her notions, and peculiar in her disposition, Remember not to allude to her visit to Somerton’s camp, nor its charitable ‘object, nor her subsequent meeting with you.” “ Don’t be afeard ; I can take a hint about as quick as any individooal in these parts. . You's proper skeerd abont the old iady, I spose ? Weill, no wonder. When I found ber, she’s in as sorry a plight as any livin’ she J ever fell in with. “She was scootin’ about in the woods like a wild creetur, with scureely 9 rag o’ clothes on her. Bless your soul, Miss Judith, she was nighabout tore to bite!” «JT was not aware,” answered Judith, blush- ing, “ that she was roduced to such an extrem- . ” “Goodness gracions! you hain't no idee on’t. Why. the tories got hold of her, and I guess atween yex and I, they made sad work with her.” . The swordmaker cast a sidelong glance at Miss Redmond, whose vexation was apparent. “She's @ mighty queer old body,” eoutin- ued Hirl. “She talked ‘bout the wheels o’ time and the clods o the valley, ent up the yaller gal with ber switch, and made her take snuff for lookin’ at the pogers.” Judith smiled. The Fler, ge th went on in a more confidential tone. “You can keep a seerct, I spose, miss? Sartin, I thought you conld. Well, I don’t mind tellin’ ye that Goody Grindle took a zrest shine to me. Expected every winute she'd pop the question, not knowin’ that J aint in the market. nor baven't bee: for the Jast thir- ty year. You'd oughter seen her a settin’ on the cari aside me Lord! she sunggled up to me like a kitten to a warm chiraney !” _Hirl looked archiy. at Judith. “"Pis false, old man!” she retorted, in _guppreased snd hurried tone. “Do not de- stroy the merit of a good action by mesn and petty slander. F Shought you were better, git ; « Yes, Tam some batter ; but noteo better as was. The rbeumaties and the doxology wor ry me woundedly : but I git along very well, for the most part, with the help 0 Crazy.” - J say you slander my aunt foully |” ex- olaimed Judith, Searcely knowing whether to reep. with vexation, or augh at the old man’s ridiculous story. She glanced at the hump on his back, his gray hairs, and bent figure, wondered at his self-complacency. “ She's a sharp one, is Good Grindle! But Lord Jove you, what a breath fs - : ar ~— cee, tmultuously to Miss mond's cheeks. e darte sa at the old traducer, SS aaNet “There's somethin’ extr’ordiner about it, but I've allers noticed that an old maid's breath isn't by no means up to the mark inthe way 0’ sweetness,” hil squinted mischievously at his fair oom panion. a : “ Now yours, Miss Judith, is like the scent of new-mowel hay, and flutters from your wtty mouth like the softest south wind.” Judith laughed. _ “You can both slander and fiatter, old man!’ she ovied, flitting lightly away to meet her father,.vho was approaching to weleome he said, taking “everything that I have i ; but God only knows how long osheliar'o sulataos to oes | “The times are indeed troublous,” answer- ed Somerton, and might prevails over right. But I trust that the colonists do not fight their battles alone, and that there is One gTeater than man to sustain and grant them the victory.” “Such 18 my belief,” replied Redmond. “Here comes my aunt,” said Judith, look- ing significantly at Hirl ; then, as if suddenly reeolleeting herself, added . “How stupid! Your silly conversation, o]d man, had nearly made mo forget to warn Colonel Somerton.” “Speak to him as I help him from the mare,” replied Hiv. Judith availed herself of this hint. and whis- ered to Somerton, while pretending to give Pim the support of her arm. What she said appeared to perplex him, and he stared at her in a very singular manner for a gentleman of his approve? gallantry. Something mysteri- ous hake vot into his mind, that he could not conveniently rid himself of. “ Do, brother, for pity sake, make ‘aste!” cried a sharp, imperative voice—the real voice of the real Betsey Grindle. “The poor man will bleed to death afore you git him into the house. Bless us, how pale heis! Judith, child, you're doin’ more hurt than good. How do you s’pose your foolish little arm can sup- port sich a great giant of a Continental soger ?” Judith relinquished her place to the chap- lain, after whispering : “ Be cautious, sir, I beg of you; which’ admonition evidently re- ferred to something previously communicated. “Meg! Meg! you trollop! is everything ready? Lawful sakes! He hasn't got an ar- tom o’ blood in his veins, notan artom! J do believe the wheels o’ time will roll him into the valley afore we can git the lint seraped. The wounded officer stopped short on the threshold, and looked fixedly at Dame Grin- die. The mystery and bewilderment that had crept into his brain, were manifestly in no manner lessened. He glanced at Judith, then at Meg, then atthe swordmaker, then suffered himself to be conducted in by the chaplain and Giles. “This way, my bold Continentalers,” added Goody Grindle, who was clearly one of those persons intended on all occasions to do all the talking and bustling about, and be perpetually busy. “I've got the nicest bed made tor him! I hope, colonel, that your gun-shot and bago- net wounds ain't mortal. But life is but 6 Ag We slian’t none on us be here long. he wheels o’ time are rollin’ us to the cleds o’ the valley. We shell soon all be elods; ou’ll be a clod, and I'll be'a clod, and both ritisher and Continentaler will be alike at last. Dear me! lay him down on the bed and tako off his boots. A man don’t want boots and spurs on, when all the blood in his system has been drained ont of him by the rotten tories. I hate ‘em as I do enakes !” Goody Grindle made a dive at Somerton’s coat-sleeve, and ripped it open with a large air of shears from the shoulder to the wrist, efore be had time to decide whether he was the subject of a hostile or friendly assault. “Heaven be good to us!" she rattled on, rolling up his shirt-sleeve. “ What a cut they've made in his white arm !” “My good woman,” said the chaplain, gravely, “I have some small skill in surgery, which—" “Well, I should think it might be very small, indeed!" interrupted the impetuous spinster. “ You have that look. Meg! lint!” “I was going to a added Humphrey, with a frown, “ that I some little ail In surgery, which, by the blessing of God, has been of great service to the poor fellows o: our brigade. If it be the pleasure of our commander, I will even try my hand upon him.” “Meg! salve!” cried Goody Grindle, with a decisiveness that admitted of no compro- mise. - In short, she dressed the arm herself, bandaging it neatly and well ; for the spinster knew what she could do and what she could not. The contusion upon bis head was treat- ed with equal adroitness and skill, and Som- erton was greatly relieved by her ministra- tions To Huraphrey, who looked grimly on, she suggested that he'd “ better go and make wounds on the p'ison Britishers, and leave the women to take care of such cases as the calo- nel’s.” He retorted that his trade was not war, but | in the name of God and Congress he occasion- ally atruck a blow for freedom. Te whieh | Miss Grindle made answer that she approved of his conduct, and hoped that he wouid pray and fight, and fight and pray; for a cause that was worth praying for was worth fighting for—which sentiments tended to assuage the offended chaplain. CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH SOMERTON IS MYSTIFIED, Somerton was glad to be left alone. The last twenty-four hours had been with him a eriod of peculiar trial and danger. He had ae wounded, and in the hands of an un- pitying enemy, deprived of those eares which is situation required, without medical ai and stretched upon the cold earth in an ap- parently dying state. After a perilous and exciting escape, occupying several hours, he at length found himself beneath a friendl roof, upon a soft, inviting couch, with kin attentive faces looking in upon him. The volubility of the, to him, inexplicable Yame Grindle, had interested at first, as well as perplexed him; but, poser: weakness and sleep overpowered him. Dame Grin- dle’s voice seemed to grow lower and low- er, and recede in the distance; the hump of the swordmaker looked like a mountain in & mist, so far off that ita summit could scarce- ly be discerned ; the sergeant vanished with a proverb; the chaplain went down through the floor, or up through the roof, like s grim dragon, heeould not teli which; but the form of Judith Redmond now came, now went, now returned and doated around him fantastically, The soldier slumbered. The old-fashioned, dial marked three hours of time. Tho dark- ness of night had setin. A crash of Ymusketry made Somerton start suddenly from his sleep. The sound called him to duty and to danger. For a moment, he believed himself at his quarters, in camp, beset by the enemy. ** Mount, boys! mount, and at tliem!” he muttered. A soft hand was laid upon his brew, and his head pressed gently back to the pillow. The clouds of sleep were dispelled, and the Continental officer beheld a fair creature bending over him. “Is it you? Is it you?” he murmured. “ Yos, it is I,” said a soothing voice. “Alas! fair girl, you will make more wounds than you will heal!” sighed Somer- ton. “ You are pleased to be as gallant in lady's bower as in the field,” answered his charming nurse, ‘ : “J am a soldier, and have not learned the follies and flatteries of the courtier. My life is an earnest and precarious one, which the Nicissitudes of my calling may at any time shorten. I have neither leisure nor. eer: tion for vain compliments. I trust I shall be pardoned when I say, that our first. meeting —_ an impression upon me that I cannot et.” ; ‘The oung lady retreated a step, And look- ed at the colonel, inquiringly. “ What did you observe, sir?” she asked. “That our short and singular interview produced feelings that to me are new and strange.” “Interview? I do not comprehend.” His lovely nurse contemplated him as if she feared he were lusing his senses. “Do not distrust my prudence, Miss Red- mond. I will keep faithfully your sevret ; but it, pains me to the heart that your visit had not a worthier object. I hope it was pity | alone for a human being in distress, that eon- dueted you to one condemned to death, and branded with deserved infamy.” — Somerton’s voice was low and earnest; he- watched Miss Redmond’s countensace with feverish anxiety. “ Be quiet, sir; your mind is distempered. Believe me, all that you are saying is but a dream. This. to my knowledge, is the first time you ever beheld me.” Miss Redmond had the manner of perfeet truth. Somerton’s countenance changed. “] am sorry,” he said, with a disappointed air, “that Miss Redmond should fear to trust me, and rosorts to prevarication with one’ whose honor should not be doubted by her.” “JT assure vou, sir, that there is some mis- ei xe aig en a If “ Mistake ! possible ! I dreamed all this, lam Creaming still. dream must have scent at my quarters, at the mo ment when you came to request, permission t
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when Deering denied that he was Deering. urning cabin, the surprise, the man riding st my side, my capture, my wounds, my sufferings, my escape, were all of a piece, and arrant deceptions each! Pray, Miss Red- mond, may I not be permitted to believe that you are real, and that this scene belongs to the waking part of my existence ?” The colonel raised himself on his elbow, and fixed his eyes Picreingly upon the ehang- ing countenance of Miss Redmond. ““You—you confuse me beyond measure. I know not what to say; but rest assured,” she added, with some hauteur, “that I never visited Colonel Somerton’s quarters for any pees whatever, or at any time in my life, is conceit comes of fever and pain.” “*T am mad, perhaps!” answered Somerton, with an ironical! smile. “It is not singular that your mind should wander somewhat after the scenes through which you have recently passed,” observed Miss Redmond, quietly. “Tam aati’ id “Who mocks you?” ** Deering, the swordmaker, Dame Grindle, and you! Yes, you, you mock me!” exclaim- ed the colonel, rc yori ge “Nay, nay, good sir! Be patient, and all shall be as yousey. If it be your pleasure, I will assent that I have been an yan you wish. Be good, and take some of this liquid which my aunt has prepared for you; it will benefit you, I am sure.’ “I am neither delirious nor wandering,” ja ym Somerton, with empressement, ‘and I will spare you the trouble, my dear young lady, of treating me as if I were such. Par- don me, let me understand you. You were not at my quarters ?” “T was not.” “ Consequently, there was no interview be- tween us?” “There was not.” “You deny the whole transaction ?’ “T deny what you affirm.” ' “Then, by Heaven, I am mad!” cried the officer, with vehemence. There was another crash of musketry near- er than before. The house shook—the panes of ‘glass rattling in the sashes. The well- known dissonance aroused the colonél’s mar- tial ardor. | “That volley was fired by my dragoons!” he said. “There is « fierce engagement not far from here. I must fly to my brave fel- lows. . Lend me yourarm. Give me my coat and sword !” “ My dear sir, you are wounded ; you can- not mount horse or wield weapon,” remon- the young woman. “Tecan do both! This eouch is a bed of thorns while I can hear my dragoons at work, and not be with them.” The officer sat upon the bed, his feet rest- ing upon the floor. He stood up and found himself weaker than he had expected. “T will compromise with you,” said Miss Redmond. “Here is my father’s dressing- gown ; put it on, and I will assist you to window, where you may see as much of the conflict as the darkness will permit.” “TI believe I am in your power, Miss Red- mond, and I surrendered at discretion ; only substitute my coat for the gown—for I hate dressing-gowns. The sleeve is cut open, but you can pin it. You comply. Thank you, miss! How deftly you women handle us awkward fellows.” “You love your buttons, colonel, as well as girl her mirror. You are sure you are quite rational? You won't harm me?” “Fear not,” he said, raising his voice. “I: am rational, and truthful, an aside tone. The young woman heard him, and seemed to feel the implication deeply. _ From the window, Somerton beheld an ex. siting spectacle. Some barns and several 60,” he added, in oo wo gen had been fired, and the flames lig u Redmo. with vividness the space between 's residence and the river, which was no noctural conflict. seen charging this imetimes in the full glare of 8, at others in the faint Beadle’s Dime Library. tion. There was a dropping fire of muskets and pistols, while sabres clashed, and the re- sounding notes of bugles rolled across the field. The combatants swayed and wavered to and fro. Now the tide of battle flowed his way, then ebbed back with a sudden im- pulse. Half-naked negroes were seen run- ning to and fro in the foreground of the fight, and riderless horses dashed frantically from the melee. Sergeant Giles, the chaplain, and a few armed blacks, with a half-dozen dragoons, constituted the sole guard and protection of Redmond and his household. Dame Grindle’s voice was heard admonishing the slaves to stand their ground, and do their duty, on pain of after penalties. Colonel Somerton looked ont upon the chaos of battle a few moments in silence. “What do you make of it?” asked Miss Redmond, timidly. “Rainford is engaged with the headlong Tarletor. Those are his fellows in the bright coats. They are better fed and clothed than our lads, but not so hearty. I hate scarlet coats! There is a sort of vanity in them that suits John Bull, but which I can never for- ive.” “The dragoons are are being overpowe Miss Redmond. “Yes, they are yielding; but they dispute every inch as they go. There! that was Rainford’s short; he hurls his dragoons once more ogainst the heavy ranks of the enemy. Now, there is hot work! They slowly re- treat, pressed backward by the solid masses of Tarleton’s legion. How vexatious to be here, when I should lead yonder! See! the tide of battle flows toward the wood. They have fired more huts. Who said Marion would come to our aid? Some one said so. I remember! ’twas the swordmaker. The old man knew not what he was saying. If he}p arrive not soon, all is lost! Some of the royal troops come this way. There go their istols at the sergeant and his handful of men. Those negroes begin to fly at the first shot. Slaves are poor fighters. The sergeont and his men draw their heavy sabres. Note the chaplain! He chafes like a war-horse under the curb bit. Giles is as good at the sword- exercise as at proverbs. He rises in his stir- rups and dashes at the red-coated rascals with a cheer. Gallantly done, sergeant, gal- lantly done! My sword, Mise Redmond—my sword !” “ The stables are on fire !—the stables are on fire |’ exclaimed Miss Redmond. The smoke of battle and of the burning buildings hung like # black canopy over tho lantation, as if to shut the terrible scene m the eye of Heaven. The glare and con- fusion and clangor, the tramping of horses, the shouts, ge and imprecations of men, all conspired to render the spectacle fearful. Somerton was much excited ; he beat upon his breast, crying : “ Oh, for one hour of Marion! The thun- der of his brigade would be music! This sight makes me dizzy. Where ara you, Miss iving ground; they by numbers,” said Redmond? Give me your hand. The lights are gone out.” The colonel put his hands to his head, and his fair companion, seeing hie condition, has- tened to place a chair for him, into which he sank, quite senseless. e CHAPTER XVII. LOVE AND FIRE. The colonel revived presently, and asked his trembling companion : “ What do they now?” “The sergeant is driven away, and our friends are cut off from the house. bove—fire b’low ; fire on roof—fire in de cellar! Burn! burn!” He laughed like a devil. “Doors fast—rooms full o’ smoke—choke, smother, die! Jaffer will have revenge!” “Miscreant!’ cried Somerton. “ Begone, or I'll throttle you!” Jaffer chuckled, and waved his weapon triumphantly in the red glare There was no oie’ to such pantomime; it was dire and nal. “My God!” groaned Somerton, “I never knew what helplessness was before. Miss Redmond, I would die for you, but, alas! I cannot save you. Had it not been for me, you might have escaped. Lovely girl, I have involved you in my own fate.” “Let us not yet despair; there may be other ways of escape. If you are strong enough, follow me,” she answered, with heroie courage. . “Strong!” repeated the colonel. “TI have the strength of a madman; and but for this mutilated arm, I would rend yonder black Satan limb from limb!” ban vg they sprang from the room. The last object they saw, as they left it, was the face of Jaffer against the window. The words “Burn! burn!” followed them like the hiss- ings of a serpent. They fought their way through the smoke ef the hall; there was ne egress—the doors were locked, as the n had said. There was a flight of stepe to the upper part of the hou : “Let us up!” said the colonel. “Surely there must be a window above from which We «ge ourselves. Any death is better than Miss Redmond was nearly overcome by the suffocating fumes that every instant rushed hot and choking into her lungs. Somer threw his left arm around her, and assis | her to ascend the stairs. Both were ob | to Pause at the top. Which way?—which way?” asked Mise | Redmond, faintly. . us way with thee, Judith !—an with thee po 7 bees - “Judith?” she repeated; “Judith 2 Abt he—he—” ¥ “How fiercely the battle rages!” eriad the | glass, and the flames darted Ras ao oe ae a Vie : reg ig peers Scat his
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ts . b: i Ati 7 “_ fore he reached it, He retreated. The roof blased and trembled over his head. Looking up, he could see the glowing rafters and the dry tiles burning like tinder. The stairs were by this time on fire. Jaffer had done his work thoroughly. Somerton feared to de- acend them lest the light drapery of Miss Redmond should be seized upon by the flames, and the eatastrophe hastened. He drew his helpless burden to a window at the end of a corridor. To his consternation, it wns latticed with stout oaken bars; it had been thus secured to repel enemies. He tried to force off one of the bars, but it obstinately defied his strength. He plunged his hand through the lattice and broke a pane of glass. ' Fresh air rushed in and revived the young woman. “ We shall not part company,” murmured Somerton. “ I shall perish with the woman I love.” The recollection of her denia! of a palpa- ble fact, flashed like lightning through his brain. Tne blinding, stifling smoke; the blazing roof; the darting flames, ceuld not make him forget the falseuood. “ Why should thir fair temple be sullied with a lie?” were words that involuntarily es- oaped his lips. “T am true! I rx true!” she said, in a faint and scarcely articulate voice. “Name it not inthis fearful hour. We are doomed! It is written that we shall die to- gether; the solemn decretal is laid away with the records in the archives of fate. It doce not thrill me with anguish and despair, for 1) shall go hence with an angel, who will lead me to the door of Paradise.” “Forbear | forbear!” implored the young girl, in a pity-moving voice. “There is a mistake—a fatal, fatal mistake! I am not—I am not—” . The roof creaked and trembled ; the wind, rushing through the wide rents the fire had made, drove shafts of flame egainst Someiton and the girl. He ecreened her with his per- son, and his garments withered in the intenee heat. He scarcely felt pein; the inspiration of love raised him above suffering. “ My life,” he aaid, “is not in myself; it is in thee. Let the fiamcs rage; 1 feel them not ; I feel only thee, Scorch eo much as thy ematest finger, and my ficeh lial) suffer.” “ We are dying!” she murmured, “ You must not die in an error. 1 am—” “ Error?” interrupted Scmerton. “ Ilove thee! How can there be en error? It isa sudden passion, but deep, deep, and change- She attempted to raise herself to rep) but the heat and smoke conquered ber will, and put ont the sweet candle of her eonscious- ness. Whatever the thought that agitated her, it was to perish unexpressed. Somerton was endowed with a sirange te- nacity of life. Bis wounds no longer troubled him. ‘The soul within was stronger than ficsh and fire. He breathed in the smoke where another would have died or sunk insensible, to be caught up by the flames and devoured. He tore off his coat and wrap it about the erson of Mies Redmond. He beat back the with. his hands. He fought the flaming dragon alone, and for her. very moment he ox oon g ge erash of the quivering roof. He placed his mouth to the lattice and shout- ed. An iron band grasped his throat; he writhed, struggled, and with the last instinet of nom poten a. rate threw himself u person. Se How on a sea of fire, and was tossed to and fro on the hot bil- lows. ‘ There were hurried steps; the ing, the spy, seemed to plunge g ery yp oneal and bear him away. Yee, it was Deering! That thought was strongly defined. The man was invulnerable ; he part- ed the blazing sea with his arms as he had parted the waters of the Santee. He tried to te the mame of his companion, and to break from his arms. Then came darkness— then black phan —then rest—then a gas ing, flutter fluctuating sense of existence. ‘ho first object he saw was the swordmaker, «“ Where is she *’ he cried. “Who?” demanded the swordmaker, hoarse- V.. shin Redmond! Judith — Judith an- Somerton, hurriedly. Was she in the building ?” asked Hirl, in tai quem. form of into the a" MS : ‘Hirl, the Hunchback. The colonel arose to his feet. “Where sre you going?” asked Hirl, de ining him by the arm. “To perish with her!” he replied, with de- termination. “Have I lived and hoped for this?” ex- claimed the swordmaker. “The roof has fall- en. Too late—too lata to save her!” “Then I will cast myself into the burning ile. I swear to you that I will not survive er {”” “O misery! O torture!” muttered the old man, bending lower and lower beneath the weight on his back and the heaviness of his soul. “ Perhaps,” he stammered, “ you—you loved her ?” . “I did, old man! Where is he who saved me? Bring the villain hither. The wretch! to take me and leave her!” “Were you together?” asked Hirl. “ Together, old man! What power on earth could part me from her in such a moment? I shielded her from the flames ; I covered her with my garments and my person ; I battled the fire with my naked hands. Speak, dotard, speak! Who saved me? I will kill him for his kindness !” The swordmaker staggered to a tree, and supporting himself by the trunk, seemed to weep He raised his head presently, and an- swered : ‘“‘ A strange man dashed through the smoke and flame, and saved your life at the risk of his own. He came forth scathed and biistered by the fire!” “His name—his name ?” “TI noticed not his face,” said Hirl. “A singular conceit crossed my brain; I thought it was Deering, the spy.” “ Why should he wish to save an enemy ?” queried the hunchback. “That is what perplexes me. Alas, fair Judith! Old man, you know not how this mournful ealamity affects me.” “Peace !” cried Hirl. ‘“ Think yours will be the only heart wrung by this grief? There may be others who love her better.’’ “No, no! I loved her at our first meet in 9? “At your first meeting!” muttered the swordmaker. “When she came to gain admission to the 8 Pd “Did you tell your love ?” The old man did not speak as usual. His voice was less shrill, less in control. “It concerns you not, good man. I have uttered many wild things since the sun went dowu. Iscarcely know what I have said.” “ And she ?” “She? She is a saint!” “ True, true! But one saved, and that not —_ But stay! stay! there may be hope y ” ; With these words the swordmaker darted away toward that part of the field where the conflict could still be heard, though gradually receding, leaving Somerton alone. _ CHAPTER XVIII. WHICH SOLVES A CERTAIN MYSTERY. Somerton was still in an exposed position. Occasionally @ horseman crossed the space between him and the burning mansion, whose red coat sufficiently indicated to which party he belonged. However deep the colonel’s sor- row, it did not overcome his instinctive dread of van agi or extinguish his inherent love of liberty. He moved into the bushes behind him, as much to avoid the sight of the tot- tering walls of Redmond’s house, as the too near approach of an enemy. He saw, a few ards distant, a negro hut, which, sheltered trees, had eseaped the general destruction. He hastened toward it, for he longed to be alone, where he could abandon himself for a time to those emotions that aske/ indulgence. The door was open; he went in, and beheld a spectacle that more than surprised him— that for a moment caught away his breath and volition. The fair girl who had shared his danger—the terrible peril of that night— was reclining upon a rude seat, supported by Goody Grindle. Somerton clung, gasping, to the log-wall, — by no means certain that he was not the sub-— ject of a tantalizing dream. “Q Miss Redmond!” he exclaimed, when he could master his voice. ‘“ Is this indeed real? It is too, too much jy " He staggered forward and took her hand. “Yes, it is I I am esved! But you—I have suffered for you, thinking _ lost. 4 friend, through what ascene we have she answered, in tones so hurried treme lous as to be scarcely intelligible. “T had sworn not to outlive you; I came here to weep for you, and to die! But God gives me the cup of joy, and His hand draws me back from the of Despair. O Ju dith! Judith !” ag a “ That name again!” murmured Miss Red- mond. “Pardon, pardon the famili ! M gladness is such that I cannot restraiu my: to the unmeaning conventionalities of life,” replied Somerton, sinking at her feet through weakness and emotion. “He faints !|—how fearfully he is, burned! And for me—for me, whom he mistakes—for for me, who am unworthy.” The swordmaker stood at the door, but Som- erton did not see him. “ Hoity toity!—stuffand nonsense! There's other things to be thought of. The British. ers are up and doin’, and bagonets and butch- ed pervails through the land. Barns are afire, housen are burnin’, women snd chil- dren are fiyin’ and cryin’, the Continentalers are in full run, and Liberty trembles in the balance! There’s good lads and true dying on the field, with neither mother, wife, nor sweetheart to close their eyes. Lord! Lord! what a world it is! The wheels o’ time are rollin’ and rollin’ us, and we shall soon be clods o’ the valley.” “Your garments are charred, your hands blistered, your arms blackened and wounded in your unequal conflict with the fire!” cried the young woman. “QO good aunt,” she added, ‘here is work for you. Hasten to as sist him.” “Dear goodness! how hard you look at each other! I do believe there’s been shilly- shallyin’ and love-makin’ atween you two— even when the wheels o’ time were revolvin’ you away, as it were, by fire. What puts éich no- tions into young folks’ heads, and makes 'em forgit that they're born to die, that life's on- sartin and death sartin, and that the subluna- rya and temporals are transitory and fadin’, and don’t last long, spin ’em out as you will? Lawful goodness! what a snarl we're in! Here we be mixed up with guns, pistils, swords, and bagonets, hosses and riders chargin’, and fightin’, and cuttin’, and worry- in’, carnage and bloodshed, burnin’ hu housen, and berns, destruction o’ property. love, and liberty.” ' “Jes so, Goody Grindle—jes so,” said the swordmaker, from whose features all traces of emotion had vanished. “ As I've said afore, if I's on’y younger, and had less responsibil- ity on my shoulders—” “Call things by their right names, Mr. What's-your-name; for there a’n’t an artom o’ sense in calling a hump a responsibility,” interrupted Goody Grindle, sharply. “ Don't make sport of my infarmity,” piped Hirl. “* Natur’ put it there, and I've got to bear it.” “If Natur’ put it there, I must say, that she was woundedly put to it for something te do. If the jade had played sich a trick or me, Id jist let Somerton’s hack at it awhile with their sabres. But we a’n’t all alike. Some has the gift o’ beauty, and some are flung together most any way, as if eniy for temporary use. Dear me! I can hear the firin’ yet. How do you feel now, child? What's goin’ to become of us, the Lord only knows! Everything falls on me, and allers did. There's nobody to do nor say anythin’ but my blessed self. Well, colonel, you are burned, I do deelare. Why, for ess, didn’t ose go out when you found house was ? Jaffer there? Arunaway! He hasn't forgot that cuttin’-up yet ; and it’H be a long while afore he does. He’s a vessel o’ wrath ; and I don't care how soon he finds himself among the clods. I vowI don’t know what I shall do for ’intment! Not a salve nor a doctor-stuff of any kind can I Jay bands rt) ad ‘ . . Me Trouble not yourself, good Mies Grindle.” said Somerton. ‘“ Give me but some eoarse garment to put on, and I shall do well enough.” © re oem ina - and beg we affectation of delicacy, sli off a flanne Phenel had divined ame ; and, before the er purpose, it was thrown over his head, and i Ss his peokage apt eng se sural homeo
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. holes in the back of your ‘gown. mond, greatly agitated—* I attempted to in- | pardoned for doing,’ he answered, with a RE meen wos irresistib! ludicrous. Miss, Redmond aud the swordmaker began to laugh; and Somerton, after surveying himself with a doubtfnl expression, was forced to join in their | merriment. __ “ Really, Miss Grindle,” said that officer, deprecatingly, “I much doubt whether this becomes me.” mee “Lord! who eares, colonel? Niece, stand up and Jet me have thateoat under you. It’s hie. and ['}) die if *tisn’t! “He was fool enough to pull it off and put it round ye, wasn't he, and let his own flesh and blood burn? Well, that’s jest like a mar.! TI won- der the wheels o’ time don’t roll ’ew all away, they've got so little judgment. Want a rag it is! This counts, ebild, for you. comin’ out with a whole skin, It saved that doll-face and neck, and them baby white hands. But J’) pin it on right over the petticoat: it'll show what his rank is—which is somethin’—if he should be taken prisoner.” {t's "mazin’ eur’ous,” aaid Hirl, “ it’s *ma- gin’ cur’ous, Goody Grindle, that a handy body like you never got married. Seems to me you could fell afoul of somebody that would had ye.” . Side come up! that I could; and they hadn't Christmas puddin’s on their backs, nei- ther.” “The poor man can’t help it, aunt,” sug- gested Mies Redmond. “T didn’t say he could, chit! But he could have it amputated. I'd have my revenge on’t, ll warrant, if I had it. I'd set the sar- geons at, it, slap dab.” “Tt invoives the spinal column, aunt,” said Mies Redmond. “ Who keers for the spiral column! I don’t. it’s Tarleton’s coluinne that I'm afeerd of. Poor Judith! I'm worried e’enamost to death ebout her.” “ Judith ?” repeated Somerton, inappre- hensively oh, ‘“‘Goodn ss, Miriam! here’s more’n forty Stand up, and Jet me pull it.into shape. Odds my life! bow curous! Here's a little strip round the waist a3 fresh as when it come out the draw- en!” Miss Redmond blushed; Somerton’s arm had produced that phenomenon. “ Miriam !” ee :oed the colonel ; “ Miriam !” “ What ails the man that he keeps repeatin’ things like a parrot? Lord, niece! why do you tremble so ?” “I teied to tell you,” stammered Miss Red- form you tnai, I was not Judith, but Miriam.” ** Not Judith, but Miriam !” echoed! Somer- ton, dubiously. Then a joyful light broke ever his countenance. “Forgive me! oh, forgive me! Before Heaven, | meant not to deceive!” protested Miriam, hiding her face, * The deception,” ana-vered Somerton, “ was my own. Forgive you? Angels do not sin.” “There isnt un angel in the thirteen ¢olo- nies!” affirmed Goody Grindle. —__ “I must differ with you, madam,” replied Somerton. “ }low ludickerous to stan’ talkin of angels in a woman's flannel petticoat! Neither of my nicces are angels, and they won't be, in a ee Ne I've seen worse-lookin’ gals. She'd got her wings ecorched to-night if she had been, Miriam would. _ They do look mon- atrously ‘ike ; and if I’s a man, I'd lief make love to one of ‘em as ‘tother. Much as J can oe tell em apart. It’s the fortinest thing in the world that this one squints a little. [ should be bothered to death to ’stinguish ’em if she didn’t.” . , SSqnint, aunt!” Miriam looked at Goody Grindle with some- thing like consternation, “1 haven't observed anything of the kind,” remarkei Somerton. 5 “Notioed it the fust time I seen her. The gel'a eyes are a good 'ea}‘out o’ plumb some times,” corroborated Hirl. iy, * Go ‘long, you old camel!” retorted Dame Grind. “ Ghid! child! what makes you tremble? What is the matter? Colonel Somerton, what have you done to my niece?” “ji have done what morta] man may be warmth and earnestness that appeared quite uncalled forte the practicalaunt = +I fear,” said M-riam, * that I have forfeit- ed a esteem.” fhe looked timidly into jo Fas ss ingn‘‘g‘i‘‘z‘gg TT > - og hae ore Pao te eee ie ee. Bremer ere, texte ate a a ROS rips feo “Pardon me, dame,” replied Somerton ; and, stooping, whispered in Miss Redmond’s ear : “I swear to you itis the happiest mistake of my life! Be assured—be calin. Judith is, Perens beyond my reach; but you, you I may hope for. God has not left me to de spar.” “There!” said Betsey Grindle, dryly, “IT can understand the phenomeny of the gown not bein burnt around the waist!” CHAPTER XIX. DEB HADLEY’S CABIN. We return to Judith, whose sudden and continued absence had created th® greatest alarm and anxiety among her friends, -vho hniled her return with joy—after she had been escorted by the swordmaker within a short distance of the house, ; In answer to the hurried questionirgs of her father and aunt, she said that she had been to Somerton’s camp, to carry a few ar- ticles of clothing which Miss Grindle had pre- pared for the use of thé soldiers ; and her ab- sence would scarcely have been remarked had she not unfortunately become lost in the Pine Forest, where she passed a night of perplexi- ty and terror, from which she had been re- lieved by the friendly interposition of Hirl, the Hunchback. She did not of course refer to Deering ; and therefore, the real design of her visit remained a secret, as well as the dis- guise she had assumed. The tithes were so fraught with adventure, eo crowded with stir- ring events, that the members of her house- hold found little time to rebuke her rashness, or talk of the riek she had incurred. In those days, stagnation was unknown, end incident followed incident in rapid succession; and while Judith was yet engaged in relating such ortions of her mishap as she thought pru- vat it was announced by the frightened slaves that there was trouble in the cypresses. This, startling as it was, proved a present re- lief to Judith; for each hurried, as by one impulse, to positions from which they could beat observe the conflict. Then came Somer- ton to make a new diversion, and put the phi- lanthropie fingers of Aunt Grindle to active service. That officer, having sank into a slumber, as duly mentioned in the order in which these events occurred, Judith availed herself of the temporery lull of indoor ex- shige ent, to seek that rest which her weary and worn condition rendered imperative, while her sister, Miriam, was left to watch at the bedside of Somerton. The din of battle aroused Judith, banished the idea of further repose, and caused her to hurry with the other members of the err to learn the reason of this new and more thrill- ing interruption. Soon the huts and barns began to burn; and ske beheld the same startling spectacle of warring horsemen and flashing steel that Somerton and his fair guardian witness:d from the window. Judith and Goody Grindle were standing upon the lawn at the leit wing of the mausion, when the attack was made upon Giles and his hand- ful of dragoons. She: was clinging to that decisive lady, watching, with filial interest the emotions of her iather, whe, mounted upon a fine horse, had joined. the sergeant, with such of his slaves as he believed would be of use, when, she was unexpectedly seized by rough hands, and with Dame Griudle and Meg, hur- ried to a.distance from the honse. When the dragoons began to fall back upon the wood, and tho scale of battle seemed no longer doubt- ful, Dame Grindle was released, with many jests and much merriment at her expense ;), for she had acquired such @ habit of talking, that nothing under heaven but a complete ex- tinction of her being eould stop. her, when fully launched upon the sounding sea of lo- quacity. Judith and Meg remained with their captors ; and prescaily & e former saw, with inexpressible sorrow, the flames curling from the roof of the paternal mansion. She thought of her sister and Somerton, and begged the ruflians around her to go to their reseve, who heard her appeals with the utmost insensibil- ity. While che was making these useless en- treaties, a man in the uniform of a British of- ficer approached. It was Christian Hadley, that tory-leader, whose name was at that time held in universal dread and execration by the friends of freedom. . Judith knew him ; they had met before, and ¢ ted with anger on his eide, disgust and ab- Sakae on hers He had paid anit to her ia —— A Foi, te et b- | at the expiration of which tit hie rougl* fashion, before he had become so ‘stained with crime and blackened with vil- lainy. More than once in the past had he placed himself in her path, and added terror to repugnance. Of late, they had not met, or he had been busy in making himself infa- mous to all posterity ; while she had seldom ventured from the paternal roof. As the war rolled nearer, and finally encircled them, her fears of Christian ey had grown stronger, and seeretly she had long expected a visit from him at the head of his maranders. The ‘moment of vengeance and triumph hed ar rived. The grim partisan stood before her, not to sue but to command. sb cing Judith saw exultatien in his eyes, and knew too much of his chavacter to attempt to move him. She fixed her regards upon the burn ing honse, and affected not to notice him, al- though she was trembling at his presence. “Well, Miss Judith, what do you think of this?” he asked, with a.sneer. She gave him a haughty, indignant glance—a mute answer that annoyed him more than words. “ You see the fate of rebellion and rebels,” he added. “I told you long ago thgt it would come to this, but you spurned the propheey. ° If you’d taken my advice, you wouldn’t be- hold to-night your home in flames, and your household seattered.” “ Tofamous !” murmured Judith, “Infamous! tis mighty well, Miss Red- mond! Your pride and scorn become you; but both will be humbled.” “ Whatever rigor or cruelty you may offer, I beg of you not to speak, but to spare me the Sint of a voice that is hateful to me. To see you and to hear you, are two misfor- tunes from which I pray Heaven to deliver me.” “Tam a British officer, Judith Redmond, and have the king’s commission in my pock- et,” returned Hadlev, pompously. “Say, rather, that you are a traitor, a rene- ade, a marauder, aswamp-robber—anything ut a true and honest man!” eried Judith, with a warmth of indignation that proved how deeply she felt the truthfulness of what she uttered. “Traitor, renegade, marauder, robber !* repeated Hadley, with a frowning brow. “The terms are too mild; they fall in. finitely below my meaning,” added Judith. “Tf Iam such a monster, you have rcarsn to expect but little mercy'from me,” said Hadley, with a menacing look. ; *] anticipate from you all that is unmarly, dishonorable, and evil, if God does not deliver me from your hands.” : “You shall not be disappointed in your anticipations. J swear it!” replied the eap- tain, his face reddening with anger, “T have not tried to excite your compas- sion, for I know how vain and hopeless would be the attempt. I put my trustin One etrong- er than thou. To Him will I make my prayer and not to thee,” answered Judith, impressive’ ] . . Vay will not keep you long m suspense.” Men, put her upon a horse. Two of you” mount and attend me.” va Miss Redmond, seeing the fotility of res*at- ance, allowed herself to be placed passively upon horseback, She was then escorted from y the scene of the late events by the ‘captain © and two of his fellows—a proceeding much against her wishes. Meg was taken up behind | one of the men. Fear had thus far kept ber silent ; but now, finding her eotigad, ete bogith ; to bewail her fate bitterly. S. *We's jes’ the same as dead, missus; c¢l’at done killed and murdered by dese yer no ‘eount tories!” she said, turning a piteous face upon her mistress, who made a feeble at- tempt to console her. ‘No use to talk dat ar’ way, Miss Judith, for dar ain't no sense in it. Dem yer whee o’ time dat Miss Bessy talk "beut so much, in jes’ turnin’ round miglity fast. It wouldnt s’prise me an artom, if we's clods of do vaile ore de risin’ of de blessed sun, Jest tink o’ dat! An’ we's so young, tuo, and might live so' many years. if they'd on’y let ue be I” The tory behind whom she was seated, per- esiving her state of mind, took pleasure in increasing her terrors during the remainder of the noetarnal ride, by various appalling thrente and ingenious artifices. This journey lasted, rbout an hour, ond wound bseemigi + i narrow pat a through the Pine Woods ‘by: 0 they arrive | st log-cabin, through the erevices ef ¥ er a ee eh
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- ” : ped coat, and i gommission in hi the glimmer of a fire could be seen. Hadley threw himself from his horse, and knocked loudly with the hilt of his sword ; which sum- mons waa instantly answered by a woman's voice within. “Who are ye, and what do ye want? This is s fine hour to come disturbin’ alone wo- man, who is neutral to both parties and hasn’t nebody to pice her, them as should be her defencrrs bein’ out o’ the country, and gone the Lord only knows where, for I don’t, though it’s causcd me oceans o’ trouble and worri- ment.” How much longer the woman would have youe on, is problematical ; for both lungs and tongue seemed in excellent order for running along time. Hadley interrupted her with: _“Come, come, old lady! Hold up and be- lay ; you're wasting a good deal o’ breath, for % is I that knock.” “Ts it my son Christian ?” she demanded ; and instantly there foliowed a rattling of bolts and bars, and the door was opened. Judith bad felt somewhat encouraged when she heard a female voice ; but when its pos- geasor stood before her, her hope in one of her own sex received a shock. Mrs. Hadley was not 4 model of feminine beauty, being of a large ond masculine frame, with an abundanee of bone und muscle, prominent cheeks, a large nose, gray eyes, eyebrows, and hair, and a mouth of unusual calibre, rendered less at- tractive by the loas of most of her teeth. The united expression of the various features of her face was coarse, shrewish, and deter- mined. Her garments were unique and striking in their combination. Over a red-flannel petti- coat and the remnant of a waist, she wore a man’s coat buttoned close to the throat, which wave her a decidedly stiff and military air, This incongruous article of dress was black, contrasting pretty strongly with the red pet- ticoat below, and the gray, stumpy hair above She held in her right hand a stout oaken stick, for defence or aggression. “Well, son Christian, what do you want, and what do you bring with you ?” she asked. “What have I brought, mother Hadley ? My sweetheart, old woman !” said the captain, with filial familiarity. “Which one is it?” quoth Mrs. Hadley, elevativug her eyebrows, and squinting first at Judith tian at Meg. “Is it the yaller or the white ?” “This hop-o’-my-thumb little woman is the one; but 1 warn you that you won't find her the most ‘tractable body in the world. She's handsome and proud, and hates me, T flatter niyself, ‘as cordially as a young lady ever hat- ed her future husband,” replied the captain, making a bearish attempt at playfulness. * Hoity-toitv?” exclaimed Mother Hedley, placing her arme akin bo, and looking sharply _ at ber prospective daughter-in-law. ‘ Hate _ my son O eos . 9 How dare a gal hate my son Christian? low smart he looks in his new reginentala? A reg’lar officer, too, in the British Army. Tote her in!” Tudith, whe had dismounted, was now eon- ducted into the e’bin, trembling with fear. “You are a woman,” she said, addressing Mrs: Hadley,“ and I throw myself upon your protection. “Shield me from these wretches, and Heaven will reward you for your kind- “Wretohee#° That's what I call a sherp beginning, lvowl Wretches, indeed! Debo- rik Hadley don’t have no wretchés about ber primises.” Lord; Chris! what did you bring sich a baggage #8 this here for? “I'll die if ‘tisn't one o' Squire Redmond’s darters; and the Redmonds are the rankest rebels in the cat a Now, no s0n o’ mine shal] marry & rebel!” “It's no use talkin’, mother; I took a shine te her long ago, end my mind hasn't been set- tled and happy sinee. I know that she seorns ya¢, but I can’t belp it; the more she disdains me, the mote i'm fascinated. If 1 hate her when roy temper is up, I Jove her again when jt qoes down,” svewered Hadley, moodily. “Whata siznpleton!” muttered Mother Deb, « And he stands six feet two inches in his rigi- mentals; and » Proper Jad to look at—with his red coat, «nd sword, and gold shoulder- knoie! | What gal, that isn't a rebel, could say +o’ to my son, Chfistian, with his sword, and td shoulder-knots, and his icket ?” these remarke, Mother Deb While maki x ng adith in @ very critical and | sa ) 7 determined manner, and with a face sharper in its expression than the eaptain’s sword. “T beg of you to teach your son—if your son he really be—that maidens do not marry on compulsion, and cannot be forced to ac- cept husbands obnoxious in every respect— much less one whose hands are stained with blood, who wars upon the country that gave him birth, and whose crimes are odious to mankind.” & Mother Deb was extremely shocked and ex- asperated at this rebellious disposition, and it was some moments before she could give ut- terance to her feelings, “This before my face!” she screamed. “This to my son Christian, with his red coat and his long sword, his gold shoulder-knots and brave cap! ‘Well, it does seem as if them that_turn their back agin the king was give ovémto all manner o’ wickedness, Trust her to me. I'll take the starch out of her.” In the abundanee of her’wrath, Mrs. Had- ley caught Judith by the arm and shook her. This indignity had the effect to arouse Meg from her unbecile stupor of fear. “Come! none 0’ dat yer ! she eried, brist- ling up to the virago. “ Don’t spect to make her lub dat no ‘count cretur in dat way, does ye? Better mind what ye bout; for Mas’r Redmon’ ‘ll hear o’ your doin’s, and cut ye up right smart.” Mrs. Hadley made a pass at Meg with her | stick, which she fortunately dodged ; we say fortunately, because, had it taken effect, it would have produced, no doubt, a serious fracture of the skull. Judith, néver having found herself in a like situation, was at a loss what to say or do. The events of the last twenty-four hours had followed each other so rapidly, that she was quite bewildered and pushed from her mental equilibrium. She was the subject of much dread and terror, but could not clearly realize the new cordon of circumstances that had sud- denly closed around her. She was aware that she was in the power of a villain, whose de- sires were too well seconded by @ ee and unscrupulous woman. A part of the time her mind was in such a state of chaos, that she could scarcely decide whether she were sléeping or waking—'twas all so strange, so sudden, so fraught with dreadful conse- quences. Two things she desired most sin- ecrely : to be relieved of the presence of Had- ley, and to rest, to give her mind time to re- gain its tone. é' ‘CHAPTER XX. DAME HADLEY AND BLACK JAFFER. Captain Christian Headley, of the Royal Americans (for by this high-sounding title he affected to call his band of marauders), paced ap and down the eabin some moments, with steps too nnsteady to be strictly military, pondering the subject of his misplaced love, and studying new tactics to make it suecess- fal. That his feelings were interested in Ju, dith, was obvious hat he loved her truly. / was another thing that by no means followed, He had, to use his own phraseology, “ set his mind on her,” and desired her prove than any other object. Resistance and disdain had in- creased his passion, adding to it an angry and resentful vehemence strangely and paradoxi- eally spiced with a wish to humble and con- quer her.- If we can imagine a man both lov- ing and hating, at the same time, the tory par- tisan would approach nearest to that character. His maseuline mother watched him with the eagerness of a tiger anxious for the safety of her whelp. She was watching the symp- toms of his disease, in order to find the best method of cure. At oe ; “J knew her when she was a little girl,” said Christian, in the tone of one commencing a touching Jeremiad. ‘She was the best- lookin’ in the whole country, and her manners were different from others of her age. I fixed my mind on her tien, and it hasn't changed since.” He paused: before Judith, with an expres- sion dark and sinister. He frowned on her, as one might frown on an enemy. ‘3 I remember, girl,” he said, “ your scorn of me.” “My son Chrietian,” inter sed Mrs. Had- ley, “in his royal rd, and his commission im his poeket, should bear no gal’s scorn.” “ Mather,” answered ristian, steruly, “you don’t know what it is to be bewitched by ee and to love her at the me time,” ‘ v, * ues gee ex af 4. bs oe En we Meare Hirl, the Hunchback. man! _— “Fudge and fustian !” retorted the practi- eal Mrs. Hadley. “ You're gal-struck, that's sartin. When love goes into a Jad's head, sense goes out, How different I'd act if I's a If a young woman didn’t take a no- tion to me, I'd jest hold up my head and say I wasn’t in airnest, and hope she wouldn't he sich a fool as to think I was. That's the way to sarve ‘em! But here you ere, whinin' like a dog with his ears fresh cropped, aud all for the love of Squire Redmond’s pee “thank you! Speak for me—speak for me, fond woman,” said Judith. “fam not the good woman! The good woman lives opposite!’’ retorted Mother Deb, bridiing.. ‘“ Look at me, you proud minx!” Judith mechanically obeyed, while the vira go drew herself up with the dignity of a mil: tary hero. ; “ A'n’t I a proper-made women, with « proper face an’ a proper form, aud common- sense to match? . What do you want of a better mother-in-law than Lam? You might s'arch the whole thirteen Colonies, and not find another sich.” “De good Lor’ knows it!” sunttered Meg. keeping her eyes watchfully on the stick. “ These walls are mine, and this ruff ove? your head, and the little clearin’ outside, and all that pertains to the primises ; and here you shall stay as long as my son Christian wants ye to stay, and is so miser’ble about ye A soger and a great man is Christian; and he wears the royal red, and he fights the battler of the king with the Royal Americans. Think of the honor, gal! Think what it is to be the wife of an officer, with knots on his shoulders and a long sword by his side, with a troop of jolly boys to march arter him, to tramp hither and thither, to ride to and fro, and do hie biddin’, though the wind blow high, theugh the wind blow low.” Judith could not refrain from gazing at thie singular woman, with newly-awakened euriosi ty, her incongruons garb, her air, her atti. tude, and her original manner of speaking, al? strucx her as being unique and wonderful She began to study how she should manage such a creature in a way to subserve her own safety, but with very unsatisfactory results The woman was an anomaly. She was fap.ous among the tories of that section, to whom her cabin was at all times open for shelter, and who had dubbed her “ Captain Deb.” x “ Hoorah.for Cap’n Deb!” cried, one of the horsemen, who had escorted Judith. ' “Them is sentiments!” affirmed his com- rade, with strong admiration. | Judith resolved to be artful. 3 “ We must become acquainted,” she an- swered, with more amenity, “‘ What you ssy ‘ought to be reflected upon. You are a woman of too much sense to wish me to do anything in a hurry. This is a subject to be considered between us, alone. I should not be worth to fill the place you propose, if I acted wits undue haste. I am. fatigued, dispirited, and suffering from the effects of excitement. Let me retire, and seck that repose which my eondition so much requires.” ; “Squire Redmond’s darter, you're a hy crite! I can sce hyp erisy in youreyes. You may deceive common people ; but you can’t *possum Cap’n Deb, with her dlack-frock but- toned up afore, and the red-petticoat hangin’ down aneata«e I've got one thing, mistress, and you'll find it out; and that’s ‘eutenesa,” Mra. Hadley snapped her thumb and finger, and looked at Judith as playfully 2s a eat at a mouse. o “ Mother,” said Christian, moroscly, “ I've made up my mind what to do ; both love and revenge urge me to it. I'd do different if I could, bus can’t. A cursed spell is on me—t wer I cannot break urges me onward, I snow not whether ‘tis passion, or pride, or the devil, and, perhaps, jt don’t matter” The captain stopped abrnptly, end demand- ed a giass of rum and water, which Mother Hadley hastened to give him. He deank a fmghtful quantity, easting the vessel upon the floor when he bad drained it. _ “There ! that puta life into me. There's nothing like liquor to give a man pluck when there’s mischief to be done. 1 always drink when I go to fight the rebels, or to r eir stables, burn their houses, or to nse and steel. 1 hate the Redmonds, father and aunt, kieh and kin, all but Judith; and sometimes I hate her. The e have been hizh times to- night, mother. Tarleton has cut up tomer- ton’s dragoons; Redmond’s plantation is » t « am re } ef :
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-—_—— — a blaze ; Somerton is dead, and Rainford has retreated to the Pine Woods; to-morrow he will be hunted down. Then comes Marion’s turn, and the Carolinas will be swept clear of rebellion. You may hang the royal banner on your cabin, and no hand will dare remove it. All things shaj] be our own way. We, who are branded murderers and renegades, will become the first in the land. We shall be no longer infamous, but be exalted to the laces of rulers, magistrates, and military eroes.”” Hadley now walked rapidly, much excited by the picture he had drawn. “My con “hristian,” murmured Mrs. Had- ley, *' with his royal red, his long sword, his ld shoulder-knots, and his commission in i Sono Lord! what a goes Jad.” “Keep her, mother, till 1 come back. If you let her go, you'll never see me again, with my sword, and coat, and shonlder-knots. Bring her round, if you can.” “Tl bring her round whethes she will or no, for the sake of my son, Christian!” pro- teeted Mother Deb, “It's my opinion that if she’s bewitched ye, and you can’t get over it, that you'd better bring a parson and have the knot tied, will she, nill she. The country and all it holds is ours. The rebils is flyin’, and the royal standards push on and on, and who is King but Georgie? Time will reconcile her. I know what gals is; was a gal myself once ; but that was afore I married your fath- er. They take on at fust at a disapp’intment, like a child that’s lost a sugar-plum; but present] ee come out bright as a hum- min’-bird. ou want her; and what my sop Christian wants he must have.” “JT thank you! Ithank you!” NowI know that you love me!” cried Christian, eagerly. “You have anticipated my purpose: it is for @ pratin’ parson that I am goin’. I despise the whole brotherhood; but I'll have one be- cause it’s the custom. But what odds—what odds? Have I notslain men in battle, and in midnight forays? Taking ajwife by force is not murder. You want these lads, mother?” 5 ® ory te to his companions. “Want ’em? Cap'n Bob want two sogers to help her keep a slip of a gal that don't weigh over a hundred pound, nor stan’ over “ve feet and an inch in her high-heeled shoes! Away, lad, away, and let your two boys toddle arter ye.” “Yes, mother,” said the isan, and looked wishfully at Judith, who was bearin this scene with what philosophy she could. Possibly he felt a faint hope that she would say something encouraging. If he did, he was disappointed; for she remained silent and unobservant of him. His face was first mournful, then angry ; he stalked from the house with an oath, followed by his two at- tendants. Judith heard them mount their horses and gallop away. She was glad ; the sound of their departing steps gave her inex- pressible relief. She was left with one of her own sex, and to her ingenuous and hopeful disposition, it soemed impossible that she could not melt Mother Hadley’s harshness. Time was worth too much to waste, and she assailed the woman’s better nature at once with every moving argument that she could think of; but she was made of sterner stuff than she had imagined, and her eloquent ap- fell fruitless on the flinty substance of er heart. She grew irate, at length, and showing her a couch, peremptorily ordered her to Bed and to sleep. The log cabin was a common atfair in those days, and made a very comfortable home for the early settlers. Mother Hadley’se was di- vided into two compartments ; one for sleep, the other for all the er fa oma of life. “Go in, gal—go in !” said Captain Deb, de- sisively, pointing to the door of the first-men- tioned room. ‘Go in, and dream of bein’ a lady and the wife of my son, Christian, with his royal red, and his long sword, with plan- tations and slaves, and thé confidence of the sing.” There was no help for Judith. The wo- man’s strength and determination overcame her weakness and weariness. She and Me were pushed into the narrowroom.’ It h not even a window to admit the light of the gun, or of the moon and stars. The slender tallow candle which Mra. Hadley left them, burned dimly, making dark and fluctuating shadows on the walls. Meg and Judith seated themselves upon the bed, and looked at each other iuquiringly. Beadle’s Dime Library. “ We's done gone lost,” said the former en- couragingly. ‘“ The Continental boys is whip- ped, the red-coats hab got de whole world, de plantation is burned up, Mas’r Redmon’ is gone de Lor’ on’y knows where, Missy Miriam and de colonel am ol’ar perished, and de Lib- erty am jes’ nowhere!” udith did not answer the Jamentations of Meg, simply because she knew not what to say. She allowed her to ge on, and gather all their griefs into one mournful heap. ‘““Whar’s de use talkin’ ‘bout freedom? We’s got too much of it, U s’pect; got de freedom to wander all over de world 'thout house an’ home, or plantstion, or niggers ; freedom to hide in de woods, and to skulk ‘bout like no ’count runaways. Don’t want nebber to hear no more 'bout the sentimental congress, Mas’r Washin’ton, and de spread eagie. Lor! Miss Judith, jes’ give me a good house to live in, an’ plenty to eat and drink, an’ 4 squantity o’ good clothes to wear, and I doegn’t keer for all de liberty ye could crowd into Carliny.” Meg rocked herself to and fro on the bed, and grieved over the fallen fortunes of the Redmonds. “ Where's de hominy and de corncake? where’s de bacon and de egg? where's de singin’ and de fiddlin’ at night om de old plantation? Who'll take keer o’ de corn, de cotton, de sugar-cane, and grow de indigo? Dear! dear! de world’s jes’ come to an end, an’ we’s poor critters, de best on us. De say King George heself is comin’ cross de water to settle in de Carliny State. Golly, missus! Won’t he cut up de liberty men! He rides in his carriage an’ four, the king does, with a crown o’ gold on his head, and a power o’ money. Better gib up, missus, an’ turn tory wid de rest of ’em. I’m done gone an’ made up my mind to be a Britisher.” The door was heard to open in the other part of the cabin. “Be quiet,” said Judith. Both put their eyes to @ crevice tosee who came, and both were shocked at the sight of Jaffer, the run- away, on the threshold. Captain Deb con- fronted him with her oaken staff, erect and stern. Clearly, his looks did not please her. He was laboring under strong excitement, un- armed, apparently, but sufficiently terrible in his half-nakedness. The two looked at each other a moment in silence, as if each were trying to discover the vulnerable points of the other. “ What sent ye?” demanded Captain Deb. “And why do ye open doors and come in *thout knockin’, like a prowlin’ thief of the ight?” affer onst a sullen, half-menacing glance at Mother Hadley, shut the door, and s pes the large wooden bolt into its place. His person was now fully revealed, and formed as unpleasant a picture as the eye could well rest upon. There were wounds and scratches on his hands, arms, and face, which added much to the grimness of his aspect. Mrs. Hadley maintained her ground, but held her staff more firmly. “ Are you a dumb devil ?” she added, sharp- ly. “Has your thick tongue forgotten hu- man speech ?” “She’s here ; Cap’n Chris brought her.” He looked eagerly about the room. “ Who's here, thick-head!” asked the wo- man, fearlessly. “The gal— Mas’r Redmon’s gal —Judy! ’Tother one’s burnt up,” replied the negro, in a muttering, jerking voice. “There's no ‘ Judy’ here ; not for you, least- wise. So if that’s the arrand you come on, yen ean turn and go back, and say Deb Had- ey sent ye.” “Seed the cap’n take her from de planta- tion. Black Jaffer follered—tracked him like e dog—run like a wolf with his nose to de un’, Cap’n stop here—leave Judy—go way.” Jaffer glowered ferociously at Mra. Hadley. “ What have you to do with my son Chris- tian, with his sword, and his shoulder-knots, and his royal red? What have you to do ‘| with white natur, any way, white femalenatur in partic’lar? Out o’ my cabin! out into the night, which is your own brother, and into the swamp, which is your habitation.” “In yer! in yer!” growled Jaffer, pointing to the door, the other side of which stood Ju- dith and Meg, trembling with apprehension. \ Mrs. Hadley promptly placed herself be- i tween the black and the point indicated by his sooty finger. “She's for my son Christian, and you'll pass over my body to git her. I know your malice, that you hate the Redmonds, and have sworn vengeance on the whole family; buf ou’ll do no murderin’ and devil’s-work here. ‘m Dei) Hadley, and if you harm me, my eon Christian will hang ye iigher than the seven stars.” Imagine the sensations of Judith and Meg! This danger crowned all the terrors of the night. They trusted in the prowess of the brave woman, Who was manifestly disposed to resist the ruffian to the last. The black stared at his antagonist a ful] minute without moving a muscle of his body ; then chuckled, and looked inquisitively around the room, as if in seareh of something. His eyes stopped on a stout piece of rope trailing from a peg near the door. Nearly over his head where he was standing, was a strong iron hook, with a leg of venison sus- pended upon it, which he detached and flung upon the floor. Seizing the rope, he made one end fast to the hook, and formed a run- ning noose of the other. His expression dur- ing this time was indescribably sinister, and paar glances at the woman were fall of ev “What now, Satan ?” “He, he! ho, ho! hangin’ is the thing. Glad ye mentioned dis yer!” “You're drunk, beast!” retorted Mrs, Had- ley, who felt uneasy, but was careful not to exhibit signs of shrinking. “ You's seen rebels hung, ole woman; good for dem—good for you, too. He, he! Jaffer hang Cap’n Deb, an’ live here hisself!” Hie nostrils dilated, and his eyes rolled in his head with frightful glee. “You're a fool!” said Mrs. Hadley. “ You can’t hang a person there; the rope is too long. Put a woman of my size in that noose, and her feet would touch the floor.” “Come along,” growled Jaffer, “or I'll throw ye on the fire and burn ye! Die easy this yer way; hard t’other.” This, to him, novel way of hanging Mother Hadley having once entered his head, grew. every moment stronger. No power could have persuaded him to abandon his purpose. He felt a phrenzied delight in the perspective struggles of the woman who presumed to op- pose his coopettt will. That he could carry out his diabolical design without e sharp con- test, did not “card possible; but that was an tem that the black had evidently felt no anxi- ty about. He trusted to his great physical strength, and the terror he could inspire by menaces. Dame Hadley had been quietly studying the human animal, and laying plans in agree- ment with her conclusions. Bite saw his mus- cles quivering with strength and impatience, and knew that the crisis could not be long de- layed, She thought of her son, Christian, and listened anxiously to hear the tramp of hie horse. To attempt to reason with the being before her, she knew was out of the question. “ You may strangle me, Jaffer; yet, I won't give up the gal that my son, Christian, told me to keep. But I never was hanged in my life, and I don’t know how to be no more’n a child. I've give you shelter many a time, and food to eat when you's well-nigh famished; and I hope you won't be cruel with an old body that never harmed ye. There’s a drop o' good liquor in that keg there; take a sip on't, and maybe it'll warm and soften your heart.” Jaffer caught the vessel, drained it, and hurled a through the only window the cabin essed. “Now for it, ole woman!” he ehonted, put- ting on all the ferocity of his repulsive fea tures. “ Not a bit on’t, till you shorten the rope, and tell me how it’s done. If I've got to go, I don’t want to make a botch on't.” Jaffer wound a portion of the rope around the hook, and pushed a chair under it. “This way, you witch! this way! He, he! ho, bo!” He stepped into the chair, thrust his curl head through the noose, and glared with fiend. ish exultation at Mother Hadley, The chair sank from under him; there was a creak: and ~ crash, and Jaffer hung suspended by the neck, Mrs. Hadley had touched secret epring,
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hee and a trap-door had fallen downward into a collar beneath the cabin. He was heavy, and s sudden descent of three feet gave him a ter- rifie shock, confused his faculties, and drew the cord chokingly tight. He quivered an in- stant, clutched at the rope, and tried to gather his limbs up to obtain a footing upon: the floor; but, as often as he tonched it, Captain Deb pushed him back with her staff. He lifted his body with his hands, and Legged piteously for relief. ~ “QO Lord, missus! O Lord! I's only fun- nin’! Le’ me down—Jle’ me down, an’ I'll go right away, an’ neber, neber come back ! 5 ae Cap'n Deb! O good Cap’n Deb!” answer to this appeal, Mrs. Hadley be- stowed such hearty thwacks upon his fingers that they relaxed their hold, and his arms fel) eonvulsed at his side, “?*Funnin’, was ye? you black Satan! Well, ’m funnin’ now. How do ye like it, eh? Hangin’ is fine sport, isn't it?” Jaifer roared, begged, and struggled. His fly. frame writhed and quivered fright- udith and Meg beheld the shocking spec- tacle with awe and astonishment. hen, in the agony of suffocation, he made attempts to grasp the rope, the remorseless staff of Deb Hadley beat down his arms. Judith could scarcely command her emo- tions, and turned from the sight dizzy and faint. The gasping respiration of the black finally ceased ; his breast no longer heaved ; his limbs subsided into quietness, aud he hung, without motion, a dark and revolting object. OHAPTER XXI. IN WHICH A MARRIAGE CRREMONY IS PERFORMED. “ The race is not. to the swift nor the battle to the strong,” moralized Deborah Hadley, as she surveyed the gigantic form of Jaffer. “The brute had strength. but not the eunnin’ to mateh a woman. He was an idle, vicious, ‘ser’ cur, as likely to shed royal as rebel lood. Well, I’ve saved the hangman trouble and done the co’ sat hy sarvice. Heart alive! how I tremble! I haven't been so nigh my eend in a long time. But I didn’t, give her 3 no, I kept her for my son Christian. as white natur ag’in black natur, and the white has carried the day. Well,” she eon- tinued, looking at the remains of Jaffer, “ the ereetur "pears to be quite done for. ‘The fool ! to try his wit az’in Deb Hadley.” The clatter of iron-shod feet was heard. ~“Tt's my son Christian!” said the old wo- man, * She ent the rope with a knife, and the body of biccg te Asay into the cellar. She drew ed it. ' Jy of flax color, and sober t straight, near: his ini pg whiskers, pA : t that time. — by clerg priously solemn. Clesriy, the man tho ght the universal world was going to wreck and ruin 2s fast as was conveniently le. AGO sed a prayer-book in his hand, and Pa arg ret tea Lp ey of i ra ae at burriedly around. th wandered somenl®* ‘and himeelf within it - Featny ‘vesting, with mild dignity, on Deborah i Hirl, the Hunchback. I'm sorry you haven’t set your mind on 4 willin’ bride; but what is, must needs be, and what has happened, we must abide by,” quoth Mrs. Hadley. “ Verily, I am glad, sister Hadley, that thy mind is so seasoned with grace,” said the par- son, “for resignation is one of the principal virtues of a Christian. Sure-ly it is refresh- ing to meet with one, in these degenerate times, in whom the word is not the savior of death unto death, but of life unto life. I trust, Mrs. Hadley—” ‘ “ My name is Deb Hadley, often an’ ’toth- erwise called Cap'n Deb; and wry faces, and highfalutin isn’t the kind o’ comfort that I need.” “ Still, madam, I may entertain a hope that the seed, in your case, has fallen on good soil. and brought forth the peaceable fruits of righteousness,” he continued, in an edifying tone, “As for fruit,” said Deborah Hadley, “there’s but little on’t that’s worth eatin’ in the country. I did raise a few crab-apples one year, but they wa'n’t of no ‘count. I’m a Fe matter-of-fact body, and flambergast- ed speeches don’t greatly affect me. What's your name, you solemn creetur ?” “There's but little in a name, as the poet says ; and ‘arose by any other name would smell as sweet’ ; butif ’twill be for your spirit- ual delectation, I will inform you that m earthly and temporal appellation is Elija Timothy Holdfast, by the grace of God and my terrestrial primogenitors.” ‘T can’t speak none o’ the Ingin languages, but I pooty giner’ly know what I want, and what my son Christian wants ; which, at pres- ent, is no more nor less*nor a harmless chit of a gal to be his wife, to cook his victuals, and look arter his rigimentals. Dear goodness! how your eyes wander about. You ha'n’t got no buddily ailments, have ye?” “Woman,” answered Elijah T. Holdfast, “T am as one called at the eleventh hour to labor in the vineyard, and if I get my penny I shall be content.” ‘Hard money is dyin’ seurce in the colonics jist now, und if you git paid off in it, you'll do better nor the Dactionseslin, a pesky sight ; although a penny for more nur Fait a day's work is, to my mind, ruther slim wages. Howsomever, your trade don’t make no great wear an’ tear on coats and breeches ; yet I've noticed more nor once that preachin’ an’ pray- in’ gives an excellent aj»petite.” “I’m aware,” replied Elijah, “that there are those in orders among us who love the flesh-pots of Egypt, and think more of erea- ye comforts than of the building up of ion.” ' “ Away with your flammery! Ill hear no more on't!” eried Christian. Then to the woman: “How is it, mother? Have you bronght her round any? Is she more recon- ciled ?” : “T’ve held no discourse with her since you went away, son Christian, havin’ had other matter to take up my time. That runaway beast, Jaffer has Tbe here, full of revenge and mischief, wantin’ the gal.” “ Did yon let her go ?” demanded Christian, fiercely. “Marry come up! Do you think I'm a child, to be scared by thick lips and a flat nose? No, no! I'd give the child to a wolf sooner, or & black “heap. I withstood him face to face, and he threatened me with death, We had a terrible time, he and I.” “Where is he? I see no blood—mo sign of a struggle,” answered Christian. The woman took the candle from a table, sprang the trap-door, and getting upon her knees, held the light so its rays streamed in- | to the cellar. ' “ Look!” said Deb Hadley, grimly. ae and A nt 7. rt the dim 8s, and saw the body of Jaffer lying in e heap, as it had fallen. an tional “Mother! you are a lioness |” said Christi- ah a subdued fe “For my son Christian, yes. You told me to keep her, and [kept her. "The brate thot ht to hang me; but I put my wit a his strength, and,” she added, significantly point- ing downward with the long forefinger of her sight hand,“ there te . “et F paetbracgey ise istian, “thous sometimes pooh a rag :.& Reet? ; =— = tte a ae _ a . * —— Ue ee epee a Tee Ms 7, S ifs oe =e ayy a ; , eR ope I'm glad the scoundrel ae gh “jal a SRE oe Fm a “The wretch !” muttered Holdfast, with an expression of disgust. & cong are those steps outside ?” inquired eb. “Some of my dragoons that I ordered te follow and keep watch at the door. I don’t care to be surprised by prowlin’ parties of whigs. Come! let’s hurry up what's to be done.’’ “Now has the trying moment arrived!” sighed Judith, who "had been a trembling au- ditor to this conversation. “Come out,” said Mother Hadley, opening the door, ‘“‘and don’t be an obstinate little fool. Here’s my son Christian, with his com- mission in his pocket, and his sword and e parson by his side, ready to make you his wife—an honor that many # gal would jump - at this night.” «Spare me—spare me to-night! I have seen so much that is dreadful that I am well nigh mad! Go, fearful woman, and go you, Christian Hadley !’’ cried poor Judith, great- ly excited. “« Perverse — perverse as ever!” sid the captain, impatiently. ‘Poor dear!” said Meg, supperting and embracing her mistress. “If they don’t let her alone, she’s done killed. I never seed sich works as dis yer. Why, she’s twitchin’ all over. Spasme, this is—cl’ar spasms!” “Truly, the maiden is sorely distressed,” observed the Rev. Mr. Holdfast, aeranerieee Judith with some show of sympathy. “ She needs a few words of comfort and counsel, which it is my duty to give.” “ Leave me !—leave me!” said Judith, faint. ly. My Young woman,” replied the parson, grave- ly, “I came not for thy bodily or spiritual harm, but to unite thee to one who will soon be great in the land, as he is already mighty in war.” Judith sobbed hysterically, and clung to eg. “Don't let them hurt me, Meg! Keep them back !—keep them back!” “Meg ‘ll stan’ by ye to the last! The can’t git her ’way from ye, ’less they cut o: her arms. She'll hol’ ye tight, and she Ti die with ye, bress de Lor’! Go ’long, you miser’ble ereturs! Don't ye see dis yer’ll kill her?” eried the mulatto girl, who was disposed to adhere faithfully to her mistress. “ Retire a little, good friends, while I soothe and prepare her mind for what is to follow. Obviously, she is blinded by Satan so that she cannot clearly diecern the signs of the times, nor appreciate the honor of this alli- ance. We read in Scripture of seven devils that possessed one woman; Jet us hope that in this case the number is less by at least a “ That will be three and a half—which, in ny pinion, is enough,” sbserved Mother Had- ley, dryly. ~ ‘That number I can exorcise and 8 = down, according to the grace that is with- me.”’ : . : ‘* Use any exorsism yon like, so it\.e short,” replied Christian, falling back. “I mast ree turn to my command in an hour; and there is, at least, a good thirty-minutes’ gallop be- tween me and the biyouac. Fall back, mo- ther, fall back, and Jet the solemn owl patter his nonsense in her ears.” “T have little love for his cloth,” quoth Mrs. Hadley, “and care not to trust much to them who prate so loudly of their own piety. LA alg you pick up this black-coated rrot ?” “Hush! not so loud,” cautioned Christian. “ We need him, and therefore must not give him ill words—leastwise till the work is done.” “You have sharp eyes,” resumed the wo- men, dro ping her voice, “and a quick wit; ee i Neg Dr ackdg'y al: g decent ‘There’s a of hypocrisy in him. % Hypectis is the universal coverin’ of hu- man nature,” responded the captain. Meanwhile the parson had taken Judith’s hand ; and, subd his voice to @ more me- a > key, said : i weete rT ee “ Young woman, it grieves me to see thes g re the ' oppose thy manifest designs of Providehen” . as Sid “There, mother! did you hear that? Tt was good. You have to talk to women-fo! shout Providence to Keop em within bounds,” “The young officer,” am | b Laake’
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Beadle’s Dime Library. “Don’t oall my darterin-law, ‘Miss Ju- dith,’ you yeller image!” said Mother Deb, promptly. “What de Lor’ heaven’s sake will I call her?” demanded Meg, with a visible show of temper. “ Mrs, Cap’n Hadley, the | wife of m son Christian,” answered Deb, with a loo and gesture that awed the simple-minded — ——— the honor of an alliance, is re- P to be a deserving, rising young man, and a oe friend of the ts, re “Go! go!” gasped Judith, making a feeble attempt to extricate her hand. “Go! don’t ye here missus tell ye to go? Wish to de Lor’ Somerton’s dragoons was here,” cried Meg, stoutly. “ Look!” said Mrs. Hadley. “He stoops— “T hear the “pe of horses. Fly, wretched : man, v 4 e Ve i % Then I am content! I thank ye, parson, noways. I’s stuck to ye, Miss Judy, an thew baak. the shaste, and snatehind ‘ Ms hite a for your services, and here are some golden *pears like they’d had to eut these yer arms a — for you. NowI must away, for the | 4 mine off to got you ’way.” yal Americans by this time expect their “Stop talkin’, gal!” said Deborah, impe- leader. Faith! 'tis a brave night’s work. I'll | piously. bs fae ® guard round the cabin to protect my “The Lor’ has give me a tongue to use, wide. Take good care of her, mother. | and it’J] bea dry time when I don’t use it. There'll be a scene when she comes to herself My mad is up, and I don’t keer. Don’t go and knows what's happened; but we've got | for to look spiteful at me; for I’s a good ’eal the law on our side, haven’t we, Holdfast?” | ‘gited, and a’n’t ‘countable for my conduo- “To think sich o drefful thing should hap- | tions. You a’n’t more’n half woman, noways. pen as dis yer!” mumbled Meg. Whoever seed a critter rigged as you be? “Hear the fool take on! e would think | Go ‘long, with yer man’s black ecat and yer “Se that her mistress was of better blood than my | red-flannel skirt! You's’ no better nor col- cap from a nail, thrust it toward Judith, as if Ve her arm was 4 spear to trausfix her. 1 The girl’s face grew deadly pale. > eee “Put it on!” hissed Deb, with terrible >) ie energy. Wisle Judith stood hesitating and mute, there was a thunderous knocking at the door, ‘“Jt’s life and death,” muttered: Deb; and, . a a peg | the cap from Judith’s paralyzed hand, = oo drew it i over her dark curls, kno it under her chin, then lifting her in her determined and masculine arms, placed her upon the bed, and drew the coverings over her. She son Christian, in his royal red, with his jing- | ored folke, nohow; and seems to me like, ae : i Ona lin’ spurs, ‘his long sword, his gold shoulder that the days ‘ll be forty-eight hours long ei Pye pty, Sd her Bric cyil, P, and” i. eae : knots, and his commission in his pocket!” when Miss Judy ¢alls ye mother-’n-law.” t Owen t opelil” shouted tha toled of Sin a Be The captain cast a look half triumphant,| « Darter-in-law,” said Mrs. Hadley, quietly, pant Giles. Open, old hag, or V’ll beat - ae bl half affectionate at the insensible form of Ju- | «don’t let your yeller gal insult your hus- ; dith, then stalking from the cabin, gave some band’s ihe ; which atsave me the trouble orders to the men outside, mounted his horse, | 9’ droppin’ her into the cellar with Black your nest down about your ears. “Gal,” said Mrs. ley, sternly, looking at Judith, “if you’ve got narves, show 'em. turbance. \ “ Stand aside, and you shall know our em rand soon er, answered Giles. The latter and Hum immediately drew their awords, and pushed into the cabin. “Keep a good watch outside there, Tom ee Thornton,” said the sergeant. “If he tries © to escape through the window, eut him dowa = with: your sabre ; if from the roof, shoot him jie? sangfinecqrene apo Bie * Sto » my 4 me , why “a rush into a lone woman’s cabin in : this blusterin’ fashion?” said Captain Deb, ys The old woman was chafing her hands, and | done, and a thousand parsons can’t undo it.” making various friendly attempts to restore; Judith clasped her hands in despair. ber languid circulation and revive her be-| “Hist!” said Mother Deb, holding up an numbed faculties. admonishing hand. “Some one comes “She's a pooty and delicate dove,” she | way, and at a right gait, too.” said, etruck with the peculiar whiteness of her ¢ two sentinels at the door were at that skin, the smallness and perfection of her | moment heard to challenge some one, and the limbs, and the beauty of her featares, “She'll | next instant the door was pushed open, and fetch round presently. Gals allers do fetch | Guy Deering rushed in, panting with exercise. round arter they've swounced away. A'’n’t| © “Hide me, good woman, hide me!” he ex- what they used to be, gala isn’t. They could | elaimed, hurriedly. “I am oP tet by the atan’ up grenadiers when I's of her age; | rebel dragoons. My strength is ent, and but now you can push the soft, dainty cree- | there is no escape unless you secre me and F Sak sods pene with the Rew Mp, Golick "| Jaffer.” | ae If you play the fool end the coward, he is ike fee — This threat had a restraining influence upon lost, sit still, and do as your mistress mae “ CHAPTER XXIL / | Meg, who could imagine nothing more terri- | tojjs ye, St questioned, let her answer; and —_— ee ALL FOR LOVE, ble than the incarceration referred to. what she says, say you.” ; meee hs me In coming back to this hard, conscious world “Woman,” said Judith, “1 know nothing “Down with the door—down with it!” cs & re of facta and realities, Judith Redmond expect- | of what you are saying. The ceremony of | roared Giles, whose stock of patience was now Pe ed to see the solemn face of the parson and | which you speak is but a mockery, and with- entirely exhausted. af the moody brow of Christian Hadley; but, | out binding force and validity. Noresponses | «Comin’! eomin’!” eried Deb, at the top Rs instead, saw only the masculine form of Mother | having been given, and the profane mum- | of her voice. ee, Deb, and felt the olasping arms of Meg. She| mery being carried on while I was uncon- | «(Comin’! comin’!” mimicked Giles. “Hur 52 had an unpleasant impression that something | scious, the transaction possessed no legal | ry up, then, old magpie!” Mrs. Hadley de be fatal to her own happiness had happened, but |. power.” : 5 .. | liberately opened the doon and, standing di- oF could not immediately determine its nature. “Peace, darter-in-law! What is done is rectly in it; demanded the cause of the dix ¢are with a straw.” deceive nothing daunted. 1 9) % ar Mise 2 nT Mins Judith!” moaned Nerved with sudden strength, Judith arose, | . ofr A white glove,” quoth the ss and made a step toward the fugitive. | © often conceals a “hand, and a < a? ee
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Our time i» short, and we can’t waste it in idle talk with a witch-wife like you. We have reason to think that you have given shelter and concesiment to one of the most danger- ous men on the Santee.” ‘ Giles looked at Mother Hadley, as ¥ his eyes were corkearews to draw out secrets with. She met his gaze with the utmost steadiness, “ Who might he be?” ehe inguired. . “The person we seek,” said the chaplain, wa “is probably no stranger to you. Do not ¥ keep us waiting, but deliver him up at onee, 3 that he may suffer even the fate of Haman.’ hs “Of whom do ye speak ?” demanded Deb. ae “Woman of Belial, do not practice vain b aud unavailing evasions ; for 1 do assure you that we sbaJ) search every part of your dwel!- My ing so thoroughly that not so much asa mouse H in the wall stall escape our eyes,” returned -e Humphrey. a “Tf ve speak of my son Christian, ho is Bio many miles from here ere this; and if he was not, but hidden under this roof, do you think I'd lead ye to his seeret lurkin’-place? If ye entertain sich a thought, ye know naught of Deb Hadley. Ah! ye rebels, I'd be tore in iecer for my son Christinn! Lord, Lord! : finer nor ye all in his royal red, with his commission in his pocket, his spurs jinglin’ on his hecls, his sword claukin’ by his side, and his gold shoulder-knots shinin’ in the moon or sbimmerin’ in the sun!” - “A toothless hound seldom takes the wrong scent,” replied Giles, “ but you re st fault this time, Deb Hadley, either through misappre- hension or design. We want Guy Deerin’, and not Christian Hadley ; though the good ! Lord knows that your son needs hangic’, . a and ‘ll sooner or later come to it. We started Be tae spy some ten minutes ago, and a hot chase . ae he’s ey We've cartiied him, at last, I do a bolicve.” é “Marry, come up! If that's your business, look an’ you will, and begone as soon #8 you many ; for I like not your company. Here’s a : eandle, and a good time may you have on't.” as « A little pot is evon hot, and asmael! cabin . is soon searched,” eaid the man of proverbs. a “Keap your post at the door, Tom Thornton. x Wow, Humpbrey, let’s see what we can see.” — *_—s Giles took the eandle from the apparently ber willing hand of Mrs, Hadley. a “Look sharp, sergeant, or you may have a ur labor for your pains. Where'll you be- gin, rebel, to 6 arch the primises of an honest ie “atacenieal too fine spnn will easily break, bel Dame Hadley,” responded Giles, * therefore ; Overact not your part, for this is # serious ae matter, and we shall take you at your word. He slipped the halter once, but this time we He R etter things. Come on, parson.” val “Of a truth, friend Giles, 1 am always kc ready ; snd though I use these carnal weapons, { wield them in a righteous cause, which re- a moves from my soul the ain of blood-guilti- ba ness, Léad on, sergeant; my sword and my iy strength are at thy service.” are ‘ at held the eandle over his head, Ag ie Rae Dohel through scant flooring of poles, Saar neha resign y iavitees? oe said. then shouted, in a stento- rian voice: Seed open, you Tom Thornton ! eoae'g Lowyagt parrot beneath,” he went * an in a more moderate tone, “ and another room in that direction. What 8 good thing ‘Ye philosophy ; if we stand ovor s cellar, there Should be a way to get to it. Open sesame, ald woman !” ti ) e, my seurvy little - non eee tke with ; remarkable sant Feald, at the same time springing the trap, “ Sword and Bible, go down, and a heap o : god may it do ye,” she added, in & voice of. sis ws Vereign contempt. : ; | sss Sword and Bible,” that is, the sergean and chaplain, lowered themselves iuto the _——ssWawnit, the first taking the initiative. There re was an interval of silence. The rays of the _ eand/e drove back # portion of the Egyptian rae Bins of the cellar. A solemn voive roll _ @dup through the trap: _ “In the name of God, avaunt! Down, devil, down! Come not before the time. 1 we u a Christian minister, and have power over 1 ® ox) . its of. darkness.” ‘r Deb lifted up both her hands and : silently, but none the lees heartily. “To the Sats with Sh Ferro parson! atly thie is, as r wou! om remains of # defunst ” t as well hide ina lighted lantern — uld say, the | : | Hirl, the Hunchback. and a very ugly nigger at that, Ah, cha lain, a peok of common sense is worth a bus el o’ superstition,” returned the sergeant, who had but little reverence for traditions or men, living or dead. * Friend Giles, with all thy proverbs, thou hast a moiety of wisdom. Reason is some- times the gift of the children of this world, who are often wiser in their generation than the children of light; an anomaly which the uospiritual-minded cannot understand. This is, indved, the mortal composition of a negro, who manifestly died a painful and violent deatb.”’ ‘* Tis Satan asleep!" cried Deborah Had- ley. “Tarry long, and hell wake up and earry ye to his vaults below, with a great groanin’ and creakin’ of infernal machinery.” “Methinks,” qnoth the parson, “that the candle burns blue. Let us get out of this horrible pit!” * Not till I've seen every corner on’t,” said the practical Giles. .“ Never saw I a devil worse nor myself. It’s liberty that I fight for, and little care I for the malice of Satan or the power he can muster into the field in the shape of tory or Britisher, bond or free, black or white, dead or alive! In for a little in for much. If you’ve fired your broadside, par- son, fall back; but I shall make a thorough thing on't, and report accordin’ to the colonel or Cap’n Rainford.” “In this ease, sergeant, thy cold sad dog- ged intellect hath the best of it; thou ert right. A man who believes in God, in Con- grees, and Washington, should fear nothing. jut truly, thio dark phantom is horrible! With the powers of darkness I struggle not with the sword, but with prayer and’ humili- ation of the flesh.” Notwithstanding this protestation and ad- miasion, Humphrey was the first to come up ; and he east behind him glances of awe and perplexity. Nor was the doughty Gilea much fess affected by the grizzly speteens he was visibly glad to see the trap closed. } “|i would appear,” said the chaplain, “if human eyes are to be trusted, thata fellow- creature has here met his death.” “ Fellow-creature !” repeated Giles, with a etroug expression of contempt. ‘ You don’t call that black ape a fellow-creature, do ye? He forms, as *twere, but the connecting link atween monkeys and men. There's been no reat mischief done, for the feller’s desarved angin’ a dozen times. If I mistake not, it’s the body of a desperate runaway from Red- mond’s plantation, and a great viilain he’s been. Now, parson, we'll search my lady's bower.” “* You'll find as good a lady there as any in the land!” retorted Mrs. Hadley. “ And she’d been in her innocent dreama afore this, if you hadt't disturbed her by your thumpin’, and clatterin’, and ill-manners giner’ly.” “Chaplain, look well to yourself when s woman blusters. Open the door, Mistress Deb ; I must e’en peep into this sanctuary of beauty.” ; ra “Spare your jokes, sergeant, for you need all rt smal) shot when the Royal ton icans start ye from yourcover. The time was when Deb Hadley was as comely a gal as you'll find in a whole colony of sich. Beanty is but skin deep, but wit reaches to the brain. “Lisn’t for sich as you, sergeant, to be runnin’ your nose into the sleepin’ rooms of young women daintily brought up.” “ Fling down the nests, and the rooks will be gone ; so stan’ aside, mistress, or oblige us by givin’ that door a fling, that we may have @ stare at that same innocence you have spo- en of.” : “If ye must be rude, open the door your-, self; but I warn ye, if you insult the young woman, you'll have to account for it to more nor one,”’ R Ka : The sergeant, ba no great confidence in Deb's visaiite and little reverence for beauty, ‘did not pause to pull the latch-string, but burst open the door with a stroke of his foot. His first emotions on entering must have been pretty decided, for he stopped short and stood as motionless 2s one of the old-fashioned bed- poste, and quite as stiff. The chaplain, press- ing hard upon him. looked over his shoulder, while Deb brought up the rear like a veteran grenadier. . Jndith raised herself a little in the attitude of alarm as the seryeant came in; and it was at her that that continental hero was gazing. “Vow, in the name of Heaven!” be ex- : ; i IT ca. ke tee, Bde Fe ee Ppa INE Meee anes Mate SON, Ne aC ee ee ~* claimed, “came this dove in this hawk’s nest ?” , ' “Comparisons,” quoth Mother Hadley, “are ojus. She’s here under my ruff, andI'm her lawful protector.” “The countenauce,” said Humphrey, “is fair and not altogether unfamiliar to my eyes; it should be, methinks, one of the daughters of Squire Redmond.” “Both should be and is; and this is Mez, the yeller gal that came to the camp wi Miss Grindle. Why one or the other is here, is more’n I can tell,” answered Giles, in some perplexity. _ Good friends,” said Judith, “what means this intrusion? Is it any service to the eoun- try that my privacy should be intruded upon ?” “The sin of ignorance is winked at; and we dreamed not that a darter of Squire Red- mond’s would be found in this den of toryism —this resort of Christian Hadley’s maraud- ers,” replied the sergeant. “Since you know that I am here, there can be no further excuse for remaining. The events of this night have already greatly dis- turbed me, and truly I need repose. Should you meet my father, tell him that I am safe.” “IfGod wills, I shall soon see him; for he is with Rainford, in a thousand troubles ebout his darters. Tell me, Miss Judith, what be- came of Somerton? Was he consumed inthe house, or taken by the enemy ?” ““Mneh I fear that the unfortunate colonel, together with miy sister, Miriam, periebed im the flames. Judge, then, sergeant, of the state of my mind, and leave me.” “ Pardon me, young lady,” eaid Hum brey, “and allow me to ask you if you are here of your own will?” The eyes of Judith and Deborah Hadley met. The girl was painfully troubled. “Seeing how comfortably I am provided for, I think you might tolve that question yourself,” she said, evasively. : “She come here like a bird with broken wings, and it would been a barder heart nor mine to refuse her shelter. I took her in and Jaid her in my own bed, and tried to comfort the poor thing ; for much she stood in need on't,” asserted Deb, ‘ “Woman,” said Giles, “ if you've done this, you’ve changed your natur’; and it'll turn out, in my opinion, thet there’s some diviltry afoot that honest folks don’t understan’.” Judith stole a ful look at the sturdy Giles; she heard the stifled respiration of ein Ber silently proves that the scene might be shortened. e felt a choking sen- sation in her throat, and feared she should faint, unable to sustain such a trying part. She waved her hand for her two unweleome visitors to depart. ” “ A thousand pardons, Miss Redmond, but we mustn't forget duty even for beauty. We believe that Guy Deerin’ is somewhere in this eabin ; hence the cause of our intrusion. We are makin’ thorough search. Chaplain, look in that box and behind them clothes. I'N peep under the bed and feel about with my sabre a little, jest for form's sake ; for Oap'n Rainford "!1 question us up close, havin’ made up his mind to give the spy a good hangin’, sooner or later.” “Don’t come no er Miss Judy!” said Meg, menacingly. “I'll write the ten com- mandments on yer face, if ye do!” “My yeller charmer, your mistress is as eafe as if she's in heaven,” answered the eer- geant, gallantly, stabbing the wall under the with his sword. “ Odds my life! what a brave rebel "tis! He's hackin’ to chips the royal logs of the eabin. A rigiment of sich would carry the house by storm!” sneered Mrs. Hadley, lift- ing — gray eyebrows and putting her arms mbo. : Judith was nearly dying with suspense. Love, fear, and timidity ttrnggled within ber. “ Rail on, Woman,” answered Giles, quietly, transfixing a petticoat with bis sabre. “Your tongue is the worst of ye, and’ll never be still till your feet p’int up‘ard.” - “It's the heart, man— it’s the heart that’s desperately wicked,” corrected the chaplain. “ As Paul asys—” . “ No matter what Paul says ; it’s what Rain- ford says that I care about!” retorted Giles, who now stood in the door, applying persua- sive friction to his head. “Cruel, eruel soger-boy! What a wieked- wound you've give my bettermost petticoat,”
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28 Beadle’s Dime Library. mocked Mrs. Deb, with a leugh that was pe- ouliar both for its silence and significance. The sergeant hung his head and walked thoughtfully from the little compartment, the chaplain preceding him. “Keep rubbin’ your head, sergeant dear, and you'll make it all straight anon. There’s no harm in pokin’ about the beds of timor- some gals, and there’s glory in stabbin’ inno- cent gowns and petticoats with your sabre !” “ Humphrey,” said Giles, abstractedly, “TI a’n’t satisfied. That Guy Deerin’ come in, I feel sart’in ; but that he’s gone out, I’m not sosure. Come into the open air, Humphrey, and we'll hold a council o’ war. All right there, Tom Thornton ?” “ All right!” responded Tom. “The butcher looked for his knife when he had it in his mouth,” moralized the sergeant, and with Humphrey left the cabin. The two were heard conferring earnestly together out- side, while those within awaited the result, with all those varied emotions which their re- spective positions rendered natural. CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE CELLAR. Judith sprang from the bed the moment the door closed »»on Giles and Humphrey. “You have acted well’!’ said Deborah Had- ley. ‘‘ Be quiet afew minuteslonger. There's s wind-mill in the sergeant’s head that may turn him round one revolution too many. I’ve got ears as well as another, and must try to catch a word of that buzzin’, for a word to the wise is sufficient.” The woman went softly to that side of the eabin where the voices could be heard most distinctly. Crouching upon the floor, she put her ear to the wall. The sergeant and his companion were but a few feet distant. The latter was satisfied with the search; not so with the former; a mischievous apite was whispering suspicion. “Tt stands to reason,” he said, “ that aman, be he British or American, royalist or rebel, cannot sink into the earth or fly into the air. Parson, I’ve a feelin’ that we’ve been in some Way carcumvented.” “You were always a fellow of dull and heavy comprehension, and like a vicious horse, ever ready to take the bit in your teeth and go your own way ; had it been otherwise, you would long ago have been @ subject of »” Humphrey answered. “I’m nobody’s subject!” retorted Giles. “T cast off my allegiance when I took up arms for Congress.” “"Twould be well for you to remember, sergeant, that we're far from our broken and battered brigade, and our return likely to be cut off at any moment by straggling parties of tories, or the impetuous fire-eaters of Tarleton, We've done all that any one could reasonably expect. As Paul says—” “ Aa I’ve told you, parson, it is what Rain- ford says that I care for, and 1 would thank ou to mention no other commander in m earin’; although the officer that you sam 5 of may be very good in his way. There’s a little insect in my ear that worries me. I can’t go away content till I've taken another _ lock. I was a little too tender of the feelin’s of Miss Redmond ; and, by-the-way, Humph- rey, I've heerd that there’s somethin’ atween her and this same Guy Deerin’; though I hope to the Lord it isn’t true. As a thorough soger, I should have passed my sabre down through that bed a few times, with all delica- ey and deference to the fair gal restin’ like a snow-flake on one side on’t.” “ Truly, thon art wanting in respect to the sex. It would + poe the poor child within an inch of her life to see you thrusting and Innging at harmless beds and bolsters. Veri- ly, the profession of arms has hardened thy heart.” The chaplain clanked his sabre, and, beside the sergeant, was as Goliah to David. “ Let not your tongue cut your throat; for ou know there isn’t a redder sabre in the sheath than yours. In battle, you are Satan, and all the rest of the time asaint. Saddle the ight horse, my man! As for respect to the gal, I'll show her as much as if she’s my own sweetheart. She loves Congress and Washin’- ton; and ifI say ‘In the name of Congress, or in the name of Washin’ton,’ it will be both law and gospel. Did you notice, Humphrey, that the on had a wide-awake look, and was sometimes white and sometimes red in the face? Is it common, too, for young women to go to bed with their day-clothes on? And mark you, sir! I saw a little slipper peepin’ from beneath the bed-coverings, which strikes me is out o’ the common order, and ag’in na- tur’.” mane rey mused, throwing his weight upon one limb, and then upon the other. “In the excitement, confusion, and terror of these times, the common usages of life are often violated ; however, if you think it best, we'll return and go over our work again.” “ A thing that is worth doing, is worth doing well, Let us move off a fow steps, and then come back of a sudden ; if there is any- yaa in the wind, we may find them off their uard,” . The two men walked out of ear-range, but Deborah Hadley had heard sufficient. Judith had observed her attentively, and now gath- ered from her expression that there was new danger. “Come out, lad, eome out!” she cried. “They're comin’ back!” Deering sprang from his hiding-place, where he had been half smothered. Drops of moisture were on his brow. He gave Judith a look of unspeakable gratitude. “Sweet girl, I owe you life!” he murmur- ed, as he passed her in obedience to a signal from Deb, who opened the trap-door. “Why is this?” asked Judith. “ Was he not safer where he was? If so, to save human life—” “No, no! The suspicions of the sergeant are already directed to the bed; he’ll probe every inch on’t with his long sabre.” “ And if he goes into the cellar, discove will be equally certain,” said @-Jith, in muc alarm. “ Distress not yourself, dear young lady, for one who lives in daily expectation of a violent death ; one who has counted the cost, and will not shrink from the payment when the bill of mortality becomes due. It is plea- sant to know that I have your sympathy, and that notwithstanding I am infamous in Miss Redmond’s eyes—” “ Cease, for Heaven’s sake! your enemies are at the door. Down! down! and God in his merey save you.” “The door is fastened,” said Mother Had- ley. “I can delay them a minute,” She thrust the fitful eandle through the »pening in the floor. “ Look!” she continued, cold] and firmly. “ Behold that earcass; a devil once lived in it, but has gone out, not by fasting nor provers but by the rope. Jump down, and hide under thet black lump of mortality. Pull his great body and limbs over ou. Do not fear him; he is more harmless now than for any time these eg ears. Shrink not—all are of a color in the dark.” The spy threw a look of ineffable meaning at Judith, and sprang into the vault. “Tt never shall be said,” muttered the wo- man, “‘ that Deb Hadley hasn’t done what she might for a friend in trouble.” hen to Miss Redmond : “Back to bed, gal, back to bed! Don’t fear their swords, for your person's as safe with gem, for that matter, as ’twould be at your own h’arth-stone. Behave as well as you did afore, and we’hl outwit’em, yet. Meg, you im- age! in with your mistress, and see that your tongue keeps its place.” : She closed the trap. The sergeant was by this time kicking at the door. “ Who’s come now?” demanded Mrs. Had- ley, ill-humoredly. ' “Them that hasn't seen fit to go; so slip the bolt, Cap’n Deb, and don’t keep two hon- est men on the wrong side of the door.” Deb bustled to the door with an affectation ef romptness, and pulled some seconds at the olt. “ Be patient, my dears ; it'll start presently. hansen it comes!” “ She is too affectionate ; the wolf has crawl- ed into the lamb’s skin!” grumbled Giles. “Don’t mind disturbin’ a lone woman, or frightenin’ to death poor Miss Redmond. Don't be partic’lar, sergeant, because in war-time murder, an’ robbery, an’ fright go for nothin’. Spin this thing out as long as you can, for resently my son Christian’ll be here, with his Royal Americans, aud his long sword by his e.”’ “The quicker he comes, the better!” re- torted the chaplain, grasping, suddenly, the hilt of his sabre. “Pestilent hypocrite! you're throwed off your guard now an’ then!” exclaimed Deb, Se - y pad mang win: eieataie! in aw i Sgt? (OF eL with an abrupt return of her fierceness, “I know what ye come for, ye rebel hounds! The gai's in there; go and murder her, if ye like ; but remember that her father’s a rebel and she’s of your own way o’ thinkin’.” “Nobody talks o’ murder, old woman ’Tisn’t the Continental boys that make war on women and abuse helpless gals. Away, you sparrow-hawk !"’ answered Giles, gruffily. He then raised his voice, and added: “’Tis L Sergeant Giles, Miss Redmond. Don’t be afeard. [he liberty boys know their friends as well as they do their enemies. God knows we wont disturb ye more’n we can help ; but the fact is, we a’n’t yet satisfied. Rainford is a devil of a feller when his blood’s up, and ou wouldn’t want me faulted, I'm sure, jes” tor neglectin’ to murder the bed with my sabre.” Giles gently opened the door leading to the suspected quarter. “T had hoped,” said Judith, complainingly, “that after the terrible excitements of thie eventful night, I should be permitted a few moments of undisturbed repose.” The pale face of Judith, the mournfal se- verity of her words, taken in conjunction with her surroundings, brought Giles to a full-stop. ‘Poor, dearlamb! She can’t stan’ dis yer much longer!” whined Meg, dolorously. “ De life’s jest about gone out her precious body. I wish to de Lor’ dar wa’n’t no Congress an’ no liberty 1’ “The oy eter miss—I really don; mean— that is, it idn’t come—” the sergeant began but the word stuck in his throat. “J had flattered myself,” resumed Judith, In the same deprecating tone, “ that the daughter of your friend, Sergeant Giles, would find a place in every patriotic heart.” “By Heavens, Miss Judith, you have toe laces in mine!” cried Giles. “ If you wanted it for a pin-cushion, I don’t know but I should take it out and give it toyou. But I've gota stern mistress, whose name is Duty, young lady ; and, as a soger-lad, I must stick to her through thick and thin. Duty, miss, says I must search that bed you’re layin’ on; and on my knees, as ‘twere, I beg of you to rise.” “‘ He’s goin’ to steal the dientical bed she’s layin’ on, and he’s goin’ to drive her up at the ‘int of his sword in her night-gown !” said eg, rocking her body to and fro, in much apparent distress. “T should suppose that my friendless situ- ation,” resumed Judith, determined to make aa much delay as possible, ‘would soften the heart of Cornwallis himself, were he present, to witness my distress.” Giles turned to the chaplain for assistance, for Tarleton’s dragoons would not have been so formidable as Judith’s eyes. “The duty is not a pleasant one,” said Humphrey, coming in a prompt and resolute manner to the rescue, “ but we know what is expected of us. Miss Redmond is quite aware that we would shed our blood in her defence ; and her plausible words seem to me but ap idle pretext to gain time, for some object best known to herself.” ““ Whatever may be you, virtues, reverend sir, charity does not appear Yoke one of them. I am in your power, and youesn enforce your commands. really feel too weak to arise. Give me your hand, Meg; these gentlemen must be obeyed, There must needs be a British spy concealed in the bolster or in the etraw-mattress.” “Beauty is duty, Miss Judith,” said Giles, and the moment Miss Redmond’s feet touched the floor, stalked sturdily to the bed, and com- menced a slashing assault upon it with his eword. “What bravery! what courage!” laughed Mrs. Hadley. ) The sergeant having probed the hed to his satisfaction, turned from it with obvious dis- appointment, “TJ thought it meant something,” he mut- tered. “ Her manner justified suspicion.” bare hope you are satisfied?” observed Ju- ith. “We are convinced that the man we seck is not here. I trust you will bear witness, Miss Redmond, that we have discharged our duty,” said the chaplain, bowing, and retiring into the next room. “One more look into the cellar,” added Giles, “ and I shall be satisfied.” “What!” screamed Mre. Hadley. “ Must there be more botheration? Havin’ give yo
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Hirl, the Hunchback. Bite 29 ee Reeve to s’arch my house like an honest wo- man, ean’t you go away decently, or must ye hang round till mornin’, keepin’ them awake as sorely needs sleep, and burnin’ out my candles as if a lone widder hadn't nothin’ else to do but make ’em.” Humphrey, having the unpleasant reeoiec- tion of Jaffer in his mind, added his voice to the woman’s, in an attempt to dissuade Giles from his purpose. But he was a man not to be turned aide when once resolved. Deb, af- ter some argumentation, reluctantly sprang trap. a Down,” said she, “if down you must; but my word for’t, it'll bring ye to grief.” “Give me the candle, hag! Come on, par- on.” * Nay,” replied Humphrey, “I care not for @ second hie ; and you're such a braye lad you'll do well enough without me.” “ Tt'll be a fine story to carry back to our dragoons that an able-bodied parson is afeard of a dead carkey! What's a man good for that’s scared at the sight of a corpse?” “Say no more, scoffc, for I am with you. It’s little that I care for men, living or dead, armed as I am with the sword of the flesh and the sword of the spirit.” - The parson swung his musvular body inte the cellar, and groped about after Giles, whe poked in every corner with his sword, and overturned everything that could by any pos- sible chance conceal a human figure. “ How is it?” queried Humphrey, sarcasti- eally. ‘Is that little insect still in your ear?” The sergeant looked over his shoulder to give Humphrey a sharp reply, and coming anwittingly wpon the body of Jaffer, tumbled over it. The light was extinguished by his fall, and he found himeelf upon the evld lump of mortality, in the midst of a darkness that was most intense. “By Heavens! he breathes —his heart beats — he is warm!” cried Giles. There was a silence of 4 moment, in which the sergeant’s hands and senses were busy ; then there was aeudden outery. . “ Here he is! here he is! help, help!” Immediately there followed a struggle, and the trap-door was instantly closed. The chap- Jain stood paralyzed with superstitious awe. It appeared to him that that black horror, Jaffer, had revived and grappled with his *~iend. “ Verily, we are beset by the powers of darkness!” he exclaimed. “Bring a light, woman, dring a light!” ; Humphrey might as well have been in the eentre of the earth for all the effeet his words roduced. He heard the crack and strain of imb opposed to limb and muscle to muscle, as Giles and his unseen adversary rolled upon the ground and tugged at each other in vari- ous positions. { ‘ ~ Gontendest thou with man or devil ?” de- manded the chaplain, in an excited voice. Before he received a reply, the invisible com- batants had struggled to their feet and fallen again heavily. - “Por God's sake, Humphrey. help me! answered G*les, speaking with extreme difli- "A eané-e, woman, a candle!” roared the chaplain. : “Short’ll be the bit o’ candle that ye'll git me, and long’ll be the time ye’ll wait for it!” screamed Deb from above. ’ “Aceursed witeh of Endor!” exclaimed Humphrey. ‘As I live she has fastened the oor upon us!” - », Ay, that I have! and it won't open agin till ye're fine enough for the wind to blow ye @Qway.” “ What means the sorceress ?” said the be- wildered chaplain, feeling about in the inky blackness, Giles and his antagonist rolled to his feet. “ Avaunt! man or devil, now I have thee!” and casting himeelf desperately upon the twain, seized one by the throat. , PL cam help!” gasped Giles in a choking v a “Be of good cheer, sergeant, for I am hel ing thee mightily. I have Apollyon by the throat, and if he have not an extraordinary tenacity of life, I will soon finish him.” While the parson was speaking, he who Was uppermost disengaged himself and slip- ed away, while the throttled man writhed and wisted beneath the iron fingers that elutehed “Fool!” said a yolee from out the dark- ness. “ Wouldst thou strangle thy friend ?” “Good God!” eried Humphrey. “ What am I doing ?” He relinquished his hold “By the Lord!” muttered Giles, the breath rattling in his throat. “I'll have you hanged in sight of the whole regiment! A moment longer and my business would have been done. What in the devil’s name possesses ye ?” “ Friend Giles, it wasa device of Satan, b which I was to be made guilty of thy death.” “ Device of Satan or not, if I could see, I would plant as good a biow between thy two eyes as ever felled an ox!” answered the indig- nant Giles, “Tt was but a mistake. The best of us do not always hit the nail on the head, nor is our zea\ at all times aecording to knowledge,” replied Humphrey, apologetically. Parson, unwittingly you have done me an ill turn, which at present I can’t forgive ; but what voice was it that relaxed your grasp at my throat ?” “T know not, if it were not thy late adver sary, which seemeth to me unreasonable.” “ My late adversary,” answered Giles, “ was no doubt him of whom we are in search, and for the good turn he has done me he shall hang the easier. I will cover the rope with silk that it shall not chafe his neck.” “For which he will thank thee, no doubt,” responded Humphrey, dryly. “ Well, we have him ; the next thing is to get out with him.” “ Hillo, old woman ! let up—let up!” shout- ed the sergeant. . “Do ye surrender yourselves prisoners of war ?”” queried Captain Deb, in a shrill voice. “Devil a bit on’t! so open, quick, or I'll raise the very old Nick with your shanty. You've tricked me once, but you can’t do it twice. I've got your tory “py fast and tight, and advise ye, as a reasonable critter, to open that trap to let us go out with our prisoner. In case of your refusal, I'll eut the spy into inch pieces, as true as I'm # sergeant in the Conti- nental Army.” “As for the lad, Guy Deerin, he can take keer of himself in a place so black that you can’t see a hand afore ye. The lad wasn’t made for hangin’, and hung he sha’n’t be. He shall burn first! Ay! Ill burn ye all ina heap, if ye don’t stan’ back and ‘low hisn free and unobstructed passage from the eeilar, and ten minutes etart after he leaves the cabin. What say ye to that, ye hounds o’ the Conti- nental Congress ?"’ retorted Deb. At You crow loud for an old hen,” returned Giles, “ but it will go hard with us if we a’n’ up there of our own exertions in less than a minute.” “Try it, my dears, it!” answered determined Hadley. 4 ” “ Chaplain, brace your hands on your knees while I mount your back and push open the trap.” vit opens downward,” said Humphrey. “Tt matters not; it shall open in whatever direction I put mv strength to it.” The chaplain placed himself as he was in- structed, the sergeant mounted his back, plac- ed his shoulders to the trap, and was lifting with might and main, when the parson sprang from beneath him with a roar that would have done honor to a full-chested bullock, givin him a eden pape 3 fall upon hisface. This disaster may be attributed entirely to Captain Deb, who had incontinemtly teken a kettle of boiling water from the fire, and turned a part of its contents upon the , & portion of which uncomfortable fluid finding its way freely through the crevices, fell in a scalding little rivulet on the chaplain’s extended neck. “Take that, ye rebels, as an airnest of the love I bear ye.” The sergeant, so suddenly de rived of his foundation, plumped directly under the trick- ling stream, and received a warmer tribute of the old woman’s affection than the parson ; for striking him upon the shoulders, it saturated his garments, and made him dance around the cellar for a minute or two like an automaton harlequin. Giles being @ soldier, used lan- guage on this occasion that all exemplary per- sons would feel it their duty to condemn. Even the chaplain was shocked, and stopped rubbing his neck to reprimand the infuriated officer. : : “Such oaths,” he asserted, with gravity, “ will sink the whole continental army. If swear you must, methinks you would find suf- ficient’ relief by swearing by Congress or Washington, and in milder cases by Green or Gates, Somerton, or even Rainford, sccording to a regularly uated descending scale.” “Have a pint of bilin’ water poured on your back, and try it; if your scale don’t rum up higher’n than a kite oan fly, I'll est my sword, scabbard and all.” “Do you surrender?” shrieked Mrs. Hadley. “ We'll answer that by-and-by, old woman, when we've bundled ye on a horse, and got ye fairly under way to camp,” replied Giles, in a towering passion. Then, to Humphrey: “ Draw your sabre, parson, and let us make an end o’ Guy Deerin’. Poke about in every corner, and 2 you start him, cut him down as you would a mullen-stock. You go that way, and I’ll go this. He'll dodge round right smart, but we can’t help closin’ on him arter atime. I’sin hopes to carried him in triumph to camp; but the hag’s hot water has shert- ened his life at least twenty-four hours.” During this colloquy, the subject of the ser. geant’s vengeance made his way slowly and noiselessly to the middle of the cellar, wher he again shielded himself with the body of Jaffer. With his head close to the ground, he could hear very distinctly the stealing foot- steps of his executioners moving this way anc that. The ominous silence was broken pres- ently by an exultant shout from Giles. “Die, villain! I have ye at last. Take that!” There was a fierce lunge, suddenly followed by a piercing shriek from roe gar “God of hosts!” he cried. “ You have smitten me even as Joab smote Abner with the hinder end of the spear.” “T knew not,” answered the sergeant, draw- ing forth his bloody weapon, “that the rascal had arms.” “ Saviour of sinners! thou thyself art vine rascal! Thy sword has passed clean my body. Verily, I am spitted like a fowl for roasting. This murder will sit heavily on thy soul to-night, Jim Giles. The Lord re- buke thee, Satan!’’ Humphrey’s voice was as solemn as if it came from the tomb of ten thousana “TJ have stabbed you, I do believe, and the dev- ilis in the luck! If you have any last words to say, out with ’em before your strength iz gone, arter which I'll finish the killin’ o’ that invis- ible fiend, who is indirectly the eause of thie damnable disaster,” answered Giles, consider- ably disturbed by what he had done. “ Of a truth, I believe it’s my :eft arm, and not my body that you have thrust through. The blood is escaping terribly fast.” “If it be but your arm,” said Giles, with returning composure, “ you have used pro- fanities too high up in that same graduated seale which you talked of not long ago. For a simple stab through the arm, ‘ By Gates!’ or ‘By Green !’ should have answered all the purposes of pain or anger ; while Washin’ton and Congress should have been reserved for a thrust in the lungs or stomach.” “Were I wounded in battle, maladroit Giles, I could bear the infliction with some de- gree of composure; but to be hacked to ieces through sheer awkwardness when there is no need of it, puts meinpa passion, Truly here is a great waste of patriotic blood. i shall probably lay my bones in this unlucky vault.” “ Die here ?” answered the eant, some- what alarmed, “’Tis a thing I object to. xou have no right to die anywhere without orders. I'll call to the old jade and try to get out o’ this darkness. Hillo, Deb! let us out o’ this rat-trap. The parson’s badly hurt, and ‘Il bleed to death in a five minutes if some thing isn’t done for him.” “Lethim bleed! I wish every rebel inthe country was bleedin’ thrice as fast. If Wash- in’ton hisself had his jugulers cut, it would be God’s mercy on a distracted country.” “Woman,” argued Giles, who saw the ne- eessity of rendering her pliable, “you're @ reg’lar trump ; and i never thought the worse of ye for havin’ pluck. ‘To be sure, I've ban- died words with ye and had my jest; but that’s human vatur’, and I’m sure, at heart, I never meant ye any evil.” The sergeant’s voice was quite penitent and subdued. “ The devil was sick, the devil a monk would be ; The devil was well, the devil 2 monk was he !” vom Mrs. Deb Hadley, totally unmoved by Giles’ rhetoric. “You are too hard on @ body,” rejoined the sergeant, with affected humility. “You are too sensible a woman to take the rough
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YT het waysof a soldier in earnest. _Come, now , lei’s up, that’s a good old soul! Miss Redmond wants to sleep, and we're content to go away with our prisoner, besides givin’ you a guinea for your troublé,” “A cunnin’ knave has a ecunnin’ trick,” quoth Mrs. Hudley. * You like proverbs, and i¢ were-o burnin’ shame if you didn’t have enough of ‘em when you're stannin’ as ’twere, on the edge of etarnity. You've got a parson with ye, my dear, and you won't go out the world ’thout the benefit o' clergy. So clap dewn and at your prayers, for I'm gettin’ the kindlin’s ready, aud the whole consarn ‘ll soon be in a light blaze.” A notable tumult immediately followed above; everything seemed relapsing into chaos. The chaplain was holding his wound- ed’arm and moaning with pain ; the blackness of darkness waa around them. Fear began to creep into the stout heart of the sergeunt. “In the name of God!” he shouted, “ what are you doin’ ?” Pilin’ the table, and chairs, and benches, and feather-bed, and straw-bed in a heap over the trap, so’s to make a dolly fire a wes it starts,” was the cool rejoinder “Tleaven and earth!” groaned Humphrey. “T believe the hag means it. We shall be emothered here like rabbitsina hole. Trul burning is a death erucifying to the flesh. We had better come to terms at onee.” “Tom Thornton! Tom Thornton!” shouted Giles, at the top of his yoice. * Little good will it do ye to eall Tom Thornton; he’s been snorin’ for the last ten minutes, and the door is bolted ag’in him, be- sides. Make up your minds quick, for I'm jest goin’ to clap a coal into the straw-bed !”’ retorted Deb. rattling the fire-shovel avd pok- ing at tie fire with the tongs. “Tf we allow thespy to pass out unmolest- ed, what assurance have we that you’l’ keep faith with us? Two to one, you'll shnt the door in our faces and keep us here ti)’ your son comes, with his knaves at hi back,” in- terrogated Giles, perceiving that she advan- tage was wholly with the woman. “ Do es you like and nothin’ on compulsion, Trust me; or fare worse. My son Christian will soon be here, and a fine bonfire he’ll sce if he comes not with has’ “ Hark’ee, Mother Deb! Let Mies Judith vouch for your good faith, and the rogue shell go in peace; but for God's sake don’t keop us here till the poor chaplain bleeds to death.” “I. will—I do vouch for her!” answered Jadith, earnestly. “1 feel assured that what- ever treaty you make with Mrs, Hadley, will be strictly carried out; I pledge my word thut it shall be.” “ That's the voice thatI like to hear! The matters settled... Cap’n Deb, I surrender! Guy Deerin’, you sly, invisible fiend, luck has stood your friend once more You've heerd what's been said, and how we’re ear- eumvent-d. Mother Deb hovers yéas if you’s one of her own chickens. I'm a ye toister, ou've got into such @ brood, and if you ain't anged for’t, it'll be no fault of mine.” Deering had arisen, and was standing near the trap. “There are few things that we see with the same eyes,” he answered, in & suppressed yore. “You and I, Sergeant Giles, do not, and may never undetstand each other.” “1 don’t know as I greatly eare to have a better viderstanding. One thing, however, | should like to know, and that is, why you didn’t jet this biunderin’ parson strang!e me ?” said the sergeant. “My motives I have little time nnd less in- clination to explain. When we meet again—” “ May it be at the fout of the gallows!” in- terrupted Giles. “ Yon are, indeed, an unforgiving enemy,” added Deering, sadly. “Love of country is in my blood,” quoth Giles. “I hate everything that is treacher- ous and underband od as ‘twere. Ive done my best to take ye, aud I think you won't ob- ject as a triflin’ favor to say as much, should you chance to fall in with ord, whieh is very probable.” “J can testify,” responded the apy, “that | ve have hunted me like hounds. Ay! it has een the saine thing over and over for months | —flight and pursuit, pursuit and flight. I aball die-one day, I doubt not, ignominiously ; ecoffed at by neighbors and kinsmen, despised by those whose principles I respect.” ; ‘“Beadle’s*Dime Library. “Then I exhort thee to turn away from fol- lowing after strange ods,” ssid Humphrey, with emphasis.” As Paul says—” “As I’ve often told ye, parson, it’s what Rainford says that does the business, retort- ed Giles, abruptly. The trap-door sprang open with a creaking, dissonant sound. . “ Farewell,’ said Deering. “I forgive you as much as man may for the strait to which I have this night been reduced. To the an- gel who saved me from your misguided wrath,” he added, as he épran from the vault and stood beside Judith, I shall ever, ever be grateful.” “Speak not of it, but fly. I have listened to the pleadings of merey, for the pains and pas of thy trade shock me, and may not e lightly borne by weak human nature. De- os Guy Deering, if the way be clear, and et us mutually pray that we may meet no more in this uimtable world.” ‘The accents of Judith were low and touch- ing. ‘The apy stood before her with an expression of indescribable meiancholy. “Such @ prayer, beautiful Judith, I eannot offer. Thou hast been the one solitary ray of happiness that bas shone through tiie dark eloud of my life.” “ Marry, come up!” exelaimed Deb. “You're makin’ love to my son Christian’s wife! But that’s not the game for you, lad. Come! it’s time you was movin’. ine open the door soft, so’s not to disturb Thornton, and then, my fine royal British boy, trust to your Jegs.” “The wife of Christian Hadley !’” murmured Deering, with less surprise than Judith ex- pected to see hira «xhibit, “ What mockery 18 this ?” “Stay not, I-entreat!” cried Judith. “You have heard the truth, terrible as it is. The door is open. Hush! speak not!” “Come, my gallant boy!” whispered Deb. “ There’s nothin’ to fear. This half-clad, half-starved beggar of a rebel is sleepin’ like a swine. Step over him, and good luck to e! 19? Deering looked tenderly at Judith, mutter- ed * God bless you!” and the next moment his steps were heard in the forest. Five min- utes later, Giles, the chaplain, and the drowsy Thornton, mounted their horses and seamper- ed away. The latter loitered, an in a spirit of mischief discharged a pistol into the thatch- ed roof of the eabin before he followed his companions. CHAPTER XXTV. THE SECRET OF GUY DEERING. “Thore goes the last of ’em!”’ said Mre. Hadley. “I hope to goodness they'll fa)! in with the Royal Americans. Short work would my gon Christian make with sich fire- brands.” ‘““What did he fire st?’ asked Judith, still anxious for Deering. “At nothin’, child! it was more bravado; and to tell us what he would do if he had a chance. But the day of sich unnat'rals short, which is some’comfort. Darter-in-law, you're a brave girl ; and it’s ge thousand pitics that you don’t love my son Christian, with his right royal red, and his commission in his pocket.” “Speak not of him! Have I not enough to think of—the destruction of my home, the dispersion of my friends, and the doubt that involves the fate of Miriam? Woman, the north and the south are not farther distant than your son and myself.” “I know that we aren't all made up alike, darter ; and what's wholesome for one is rank p’ison for another. But it’s a matter o’ time, ral; alla matter o’ time! A great doctor is ‘ime; he brings round his patients arter awhile, curin’ ’em with doses of days, months, and years. I've seen them as wanted to die, | reconciled to their fate, and made to rejoice in it.” “J hear somethin’,” said Meg. “There's allers noises hereabouts. The dead and splintered branches creak on the | trees; the Jeaves go scurrin' afore the wind, ) and rabbits and equirrels re tag across the woodland paths,” answered De “It's none o' thein yer, but the rumblin’ of a wagon,” replied Meg. “Meg is right, I think,” said Judith, “I eartuinly hear the rattle of wheels.” “T hear it; your young ears are sharper’n mine. It seems as if we should have no rest this blessed night ; fast as one goes, anoth«r comes. Listen a minute!” All were silent. “Whoa, Crazy! our head ag’in a cabin door, be up, ereetur |” “It's the Swordmaker of the Santee !” said Deb, joyfully. “ He’sa simple-minded, harta-~ less et hee and ‘li do nobody any mischief. He has often passed here with his horse and cart. He’s pooty old, and has a monstrous hump on bis baek ; but is no fool forall that. We've had many a : good talk together about the times, the king, the war, and the jiLerty.” Judith’s heart beat fast with expeeta*sn, She felt a secret assurance of assistance. “Who's without?” demanded Debvrah, harsh} “ Yes, , I've been ont,” answered the piping voice of Hirl, the hunchback. “I’m here with Crazy and the cart. Been down’ mong the Royal ’Mericans, sharpenin’ up the tools of the lads. Open the door, Goody, ana let in the old man, The bolt flew back with uncommon cheer- fulness, and the bent figure of Hirl crossed the threshold. “You'll never find the door o’ Deb Hadley closed ag’in ye. What news, old man? How goes the battle? Are they. fightin’ still? lave they annihilated Somerton’s brigade?” * Yes, ten come to your aid. I seed your - Christian in the thickest o’ the skrim- e; and proud he looked in his royal red, wit his long sword, his gold shoulder-knots, and his commission in his pocket! Lord! Lord! what a extrordiner boy! Ah, if I'd had sich a offs aad But it wasn’t to be; no, it asn’t to “ Dear, dear ! tebaa ® pleasant way have with ye! So you hel my son Chiistia a facin’ his foes, and a cuttin’ ’em down like thistle-heada. I wish hie old mother could been there! The liberty’s deed, don’t ye think "tis? and the royalty’s all alive.” “My name is lirley; Hirl, for short, though ill-mannered people—” “Confound the ill-mannered people thet speak ill of one that speaks well of my son Christian! Odds my life! seems us if I could smell fire.” “Yire! T's smelt dat eight, ten minutes,” cried Me “You can’t put it out!” tgtials Hirl. A’n't agi to run ye? Hol “4 dis seven or “The thatch is aila blaze. I seed it ome ways off. My stars! if this ootty you woman isn’t Miss Redmond. ow on air did she git here? Weil, it makes no odds; you can a!l tumble into my eert, and if there's an animal that ean take ye over the ground, it’s Crazy. She's ‘leven year old, but she be a smart one, I vow!” “A curse on that. sleepy dog! he didn’t fire hia pi-tol for nothin’, The roofs in a blaze! When the sun rises, Deb Hadley won't have a Place to lay her head.” The woman Jooked defiantly up at the roof, down which puffs of smoke now began to drive. “Let it burn, Goody Hadley. There's timber in the forest to make another, aad willin’ hands among the Royal "Mericans to build it, Cheer up, old motlier! don’t never complain till you ive the nettralagy ond the rbeumatics, and are as hard o’ hearin’ as a whale at the bottom o’ the ocean,” answered Hirl, rubbing his hands, encouragingly, and obviously musteriug a great deal “of p iloso- phy for the benefit of Captain Deb. “It’s easy enough to make comfort for others, old man, when you're goin’ on sfnooth yourself! But I'll have it out of ‘em for this. My son Christian shai cut ‘em up, and hang ’em up, too. Whot o world ‘tis, when men forgit their 'Jeigance to the king, and go run- nin’ arter liberty and Mr. Washiu'ton, Con- gress, and others!” The injured woman seemed on the point of appealing to Heaven for help aguinst redale and wrongs. “The cart’s ready; you women foiks can jump right in, and away we'lltrundle. OCrazy’s a great creetur to go! I'll take ye toa pizea where a dog won't dare to move hie tongue,” replied the swordmaker, gently leading Ju dith from the cabin. “That's right, grandaddyt Be keorful o” my sou dame 8 wite,” saia Mrs. Hadley, approving “ No, f {nom lea» ne fife Cap’t heer @
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bugle "less it’s near. Une 0” my ears, yon see, is tore allto bits. Heerd the groans 0’ the wounded, though, when Tarleton tackled Somerton’s drag’ons. Bless me! how the reb- gis fit! That devil, Rainford, made a great ewarth right through the kurnil’s calvary. There was two royalists to one rebel; but I'll die if I didn’t think, one spell, that the tebela would git the best on’t.” “No more o’ that, if you want me to ride in your cart!” cried Mother Hadley. “ Woe is me! what a ead sight to see it burn. What'll Christian do for the housekeepin’ and the wife? D'ye think I can leave it, man, without grief? And where will ye zo? What spot of airth is there where Deb Haaley can find snother home ready at hand?” =~ “Trust your brave son for that, and hop Into the cart. Mies Judith can set on the seat with the old man, and you and the yaller ereetur can stow yourselves 'mong the lug- age ; thero’s eee 0’ room—plenty ont. ome, Goody, bear a hand! Don’t be nus sin’ your troubles; they'll grow fast enongh without care.” Deborzh Hadley, with much ecomplainin end muttering, finally mounted the cart, an rode away with her face turned sorrowfully to her burning cabin. “You'll know how good it is, now, to be burned out,” said Hirl. “ Many, beside your. self, have been made houseless this night. Squire Redmond’s house, and stables, and negro huts have turned to ashes since sun- Bet.” “Tell me, good swordmaker,” said Judith, with trembling eagerness, “if you were near © during that terrible scene; and can you give me any information respecting my sister Mir- jam > sie “Thank God, I can!” answered the sword- maker, with a fervor that made Deborah Hadley start. “She was rescued from the flanes ; she is safe.” “Heaven bless you, old man, for this as- surance} Yourelieve me of an oppressive and terrible anxiety, And Colonel Somerton ?” “ He waa saved, too. How young gals take to handsome uniforms! Nov, if it had been an old man like me, no one would took the trouble toaskabout me. But that’s natur’, I #’ pose.” “ Judge not so uncharitably, worthy sword- maker,” replied Judith. “ Kindness is seldom forgotten, and I trust my memory 18 good. But where are you driving us?” “To a place where you'll be safe enough, T’ll warrant.” P The swordmaker touched his mare with his whip, and she started at a pace which soon took them to the end of their journey, which was an unfinished and deserted house on the marvin of the forest. “it was built by a rebel,” said Hirl, “ who left it half done to go a sogerin’, and it’s ten to one if he ever comes back.” The first beams of morning were glittering in the east, when Judith followed the sword- - maker into the dwelling. The first object that met her view was Miriam. Goody Grindle, who as usual was performing the office of nurse, had fallen asleep upon her post; she was brought reluctantly from her dreams Ly the hurried footsteps of Judith, as she sprang to embrace her sister. Glancing about the room, Judith saw Somerton approaching from @n obscure corner. There was a flush upon his face, and unusual vivacity in his expression. The young lady extended her hand, saying : “Surely, colonel, you have been the subject of magical aoris,else I should see you on a couch of pain,” “TI think I may affirm safely that I have been under the induence of necromancy since Trode in the ewordmaker’s cart to the present moment.” He looked st Miriam expressively, who sverted her eyes. “ Not to your harm, Ihope,” replied Judith, smilingly. “To my everlasting good, I firmly be- _ Heve!l” he answered, with a fervor that was ‘quite enigmatical to Judith. — _ * Don't look so puzzied-like, child!” cried. _ ‘Goody Grindle, who was by this time wide — awake, “ There's been queer doin’s this night. » Bless us, Miriam! you needn't wink and blink at me to keep me from talkin’, for it’s m nature to be continually runnin’ on. The trai is, 7 the truth must come out when ave anything to do with it—the colonel’s and made ove to Miriam, thinkin’ it was nt; snd I'll meriah if I don’t think she’s ac- Hirl, the Hunchback. cepted him, burns, petticoat, and ail, jest as he stands.” At this juncture, Deborah Hadley, who had stood in the back-ground, advanced, and con- fronted Somerton. “Dear gvodness! here’s a pair on us. I should say. War sort of mixes up things, don’t it?’ she said, with a comical leer that was quite irresistible. Somerton glanced at his novel toilet, for he atill wore the petticoat thet Betsey Grindle, in her euperabundant kinduess, had invested him with, and joined heartily in the laugh that was waised at his expense. “ You're an oad tigger to make love,” addea Deborah ; “ and it’s the luckiest thing in the world that you didn’t set your heart on my son Christian’s wife.” “ Wife ?” repeated Somerton, vaguely. “ Nothin’ less nor more,” answered Deb, stiffly, then turning to Judith, added: “ Ihave pleasure in introduein’ to you and everybody, ray darter-in-law, Mrs. Judith Hadley, wife of Christian Hadley, captain of the Royal Amer- icans, with his conimiission in bis pocket, signed by the king himself.” “* What's the lunatic talkin’ about?” queried Betsey Grindle, her pride beginning to mount to her face. ‘ This is my niece, and the wife of nobody, much less of that infamous tory, Christian Hadley, the mention of whose name makes her pale as a lily.” “« Ask the gal!” retorted Deborah, defiantly. “She won't deny that she was brought to my house, that a parson was sent for and came, and the ceremony was performed.” “What meuns this, Judith” eried Miriam, “Speak, Meg!” “ They've jes’ done gone married her, whe- ther she would or no. i heerd the whole cere- mony ; but goodness, Miss Merry ! she was in 8 dead faint, and I don’t b’lieve sensed a dozen words of it. I sot there a holdin’ on to her, and I prayed; and I prayed; and I prayed that dem yer wheels o’ time would roll ’em all into eternity together.” “Know you anything of this ?” asked Som- erton, looking at the swordmaker. “I know what they say, kurnil, and if the marriage is binded, Deb Hadley has got a nice darter-in-law.” Judith was by this time nearly insensible, and Miriam and her aunt were hanging over her in great alarm and bewilderment. “ These wrongs must cease,” said Somerton, with energy. Pas “ And they will!” muttered the sword. maker. “Long live the king!’ exclaimed Deborah Hadley. “ Who'll take that masculine woman by the shoulders and put her out doors?” demanded Betsey Grindle, appealing to no one in par- ticular. “ Yes, who'll doit ?” repeated Captain Deb, “ What's that?” eried Meg, suddenly. There was a pause. The distant blast of a bugle was heard; the mellow notes drifixd into the open doors and windows like soft bil- lows of harmony. “T should know those sounds,” said Som- erton. . ‘ “Tis the blare ofa trumpet! said Mrs. Had. ley, quickly. “ A guinea to a shillin’ that the royal Americans are eomin’, with my son oe at theirhead. What think ye, old Hirl ?” “T can’t hear much, but jedgin’ by what Mittle I can hear, I should say a company of boss was comin’ this way ata clean gallop,” enswered the huneliback, quiet! ; “ Be they friend or foe?” interrogated Deb. “TI should think they might Ke one or ‘other !” sereamed the swordinaker. ‘In the course o’ natur’ they must be for or ag’inst.” “ Any fool knows that!” replied Mrs. Had- Jey, complimentarily. The bugle-notes grew louder and louder, and the heavy tramp of horsemen drew nearer. Manifostly every person in the dwelling await- ed the results with anxiety. The matter was avon settled ; Rainford dashed up to the door at the head of his dragoo.s. Seeing Somer- ton at the window, he threw himself from the enddie, and burried to greet him. “ My dear colonel,” he said, “ I searcely ex- ted thia pleasure, although I hyve been in- ormed of your escape from Hadley, and his ruffiang, and of your being conveyed to Red- mond’s plantation. I knew the house was burned, and feared the worst.” * Providence has kept me alive, gallant Rainford, and I hope to ride again to battle Sua by your side. How is it? Are our poor fel- lows cut to pieces? Have the dragovuns lost heart and courage ?” “They have been roughly used, and ere terribly harried with fighting overpowering numbers. But the stout are good for another day. A few hours’ rest and a hearty meal, wil] put most of them right ; but some of them are done with eating. Well, that’s a soldier’s fate, Somerton. hom have you here? Ab! I see bright eyes, and others that are not so bright. hat is that masculine creature in the black coat and red petticoat? She looks ike the devil's dam.” “And such she is; she is the mother of Christian Hadley,” replied the colonel. “Infamy enough for one woman. I see a face that 1 know—that sharp female, Betsey Grindle. But who are those pretty creatures who look ae much alike as two peas in the same pod?” “The Redmond sisters,” answered Somer- ton, glancing at the twain with evident pride. “The Redmond sisters,” repeated Rainford, musingly. “ My gallant colonel, I shall watch you! With such fair nurses, I fear your wounds wil] not heal by th~ firet intention, ae surgeons say. Well, Love and Glory are yoke- fellows.” “A rough soldier has little time for senti- ment at such a crisis as this,” replied Somer- ton, coloring. “Time ? you've taken it by the forelock, ere this; if you haven’t, you've neglected your opportunity ; that’s alll can say. Here's the swordmaker, too. -A queer old body is the sworimaker! By-the-way, 1 have rare new. for you: Marion’s brigade is thundering up from the swamps of the Santee. We'll drive Tarleton into the river, and send him back with banners trailed in the dust. This is not all; as I came up I saw aman running across field. . I put spurs to my horse, leaped fences, ditches, and gates, and finally captured |im. Whom do you think it was? It was our old friend, the spy.” “The spy !’ said the colonel, with a start. * “The spy!” repeated Hirl, in a voice more indicative of consternation than surprise. “The spy!” gasped Judith. “The same,” replied Rainford. “ And you may rest assured,” be added, significantly, “that he'll never be caught again.” “Have you murdered him?” asked the swordmaker, huskily. “ A continental soldier, old man, never com- mits murder,” retorted Rainford, harghtily. “Tell me, oh tell me, sin---have yon—have you—” began Judith, with strauge vehoe- mence. “Lady,” answered Rainford, “he lives. Giles—sergeant Giles, bring forward the pris~ oner.” The word was passed along; snd after some commotion aniong the drageins, Giles and Thornton appeared, leadieg the unforiunate Deering, whose arms were piniened tightly. His face was calm, pale, and molaneboly. le did not notice Jndith, but a sbu-jlder passed over his persou when he saw the swordmaker. For an instant he wos affected, but present! confronted Rainford and Somerton with aelb- possession. “Rash, misquided man !" exclaimed Somer ton, sorrowfully. “Thad hoped that we should never meet again, and. that the past had tanght you siedome You have tempted Prav- idence one time too many ; nothing can save ou.” “Of what am I accused?” demanded the man, With an unflinching eye. Judith lookgd anxiously from one to the other «f the two men. \ “Every child on the Santee could tell you your crime, The name of Guy Deering is too well known,” returned the colonel. “My name is Henderson—Max Henderson.” ‘The same subterfuge and falseliood!* cried Rainford, contemptnously. “Itis my duty to assure you that this will not avail you,” added Somerton, with firmness, “1 have not'the slightest hope that it will,” replied the “DNs he swordmaker stood watching the latter, and Judith; his countenance expressive of the deepest interest. ‘ “ Ah my boy, my poor boy, why didn’t you keep out o' their elutehes arter you lofi tha cabin ?" exclaimed Delorah Hadley, with evr dent sorrow. “Do fhe hear that, your honor? She ao- knowledges that he was at her cabin, to which — J can swear; for I saw him there, and should
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* qayself of the shelter of a roof,”’ have taken him, if the chaplain snd I hacn’t been sarcumvented by that she tory. I can testify, too, that she called him Guy Deerin’ more nor once. Lord, colonel! we can swear his life away in no time,’ interposed Giles, with much zeal. ‘*Woman,”’ said the spy, looking steadily at mother Hadley; “1 have entered no cabin of yours in the tast twelve hours, I have been too busy to avail * Cool enough! cool enough!” said the sergeant, with an incredulous shrug. ‘Don’t know nothin’ out bein’ hid in the cellar, I s’pose, nor what hap- pened there, nor how you got away at last?” “T protest, gentlemen, that I am utterly ignorant | ’ of all this,” answered the accused, impressively. “He knows no more about it than a child unborn! As for bein’ at my cabin, that was mor'n a week ago,”’ asserted Deb, poe “This lad isn’t no more like Guy Deerin’ than a cheese is like the moon, His name is Henderson, and nothin’ else. Dear me! I knowed the Hendersons years ago, man and boy, woman and child.” ‘Good mother,” said the spy, calmly, “let us have nothing but the truth, for 1 am placed where the truth will serve me as well as falsehood; and neither can avail me aught.’’ “ And it’s the truth I’ve been tellin’, which I’m allers ready to tell for friend or foe. Who can have the heart to bring sich a fine-lookin’ man to the halter? But men become desperately wicked when they forgit the king and run arter liberty, Mr. Wash- mn'ton, Congress, and others.” Deborah shook her head regretfully, and sighed. The swordmaker advanced a step toward the ac- eused, who said, quickly, in a deprecating voice: “Nay, old man, I conjure you notto speak! The few feeble words that you could say in my fayor will not affect the fate that is reserved for me, in the smallest degree. Your testimony might involve another. For God's sake, be quiet!” Rainford and Somerton exchanged a few words in low tones. The former then an order in the same voice to an officer near . Judith cast her- self at the swordmaker’s feet. and seizing his hand, eried: ‘* Oh, sir, if you can say any thing in favor of this phar man, I entreat you, by all that you love, to say it!’’ % What can I do, child; what canIdo? Iam nei- ther Somerton, nor Rainford, nor Washington,’ an- swered Hirl, eating nba $ “Do you know this lady, sir?’ asked Somerton, pointing to Judith, and fixing his regards steadily upon the spy. **Y have reason to believe her to be Judith Red- mond; but never had the pleasure and honor of her uaintance,”’ he replied. udith arose, and gave him a reproachful, sorrow- ful glance. “Ht is Judith,” said the swordmaker, in a voice so chan, that every one involuntarily looked at him. “tT have heard much of her pare Bato May bless her)” Judith was bewildered. What did this mean? Was it a generous concealment to save her name and fame; or was it a justifiable subterfuge, resorted to to weigh o er’ favor by embarrassing the question of his en ? An offioer approached Rainford and said, ‘‘ We are “Ta es,” said Somerton, “‘ you had better retire jnto the house, and close the doors. The further ex- amination of the prisoner will be conducted more Vv. a an Suck is not your purpose,” said Judith, with em- arms? It pears like as though you’d passed through a furnace.” Somerton heard the words, and glanced at what he had not before observed—the hands and arms of the prisoner. His manner changed in a moment; he sprung toward Dee saying: bi conjure you to tell me how you received those injuries?” e man’s hands were blistered and charred, and his coat and linen hung in scorched threads from his arms. “Question me not,” replied Deering. *T insist!” continued Somerton, emphatically. “Tn rescuing two human be from a burning building, I received these wounds from the angry flames,” answered the Spy, unassumingly. “7 knew it! I knew it!” exclaimed Somerton. “ It ‘was you who bore me from Redmond’s house—it was you who saved Miriam. I had an unaccountable apprehension of it at the time, although my bodily faculties were yzed by suffocating gases.” * Captain nford, Tam ready! I thank you that this time it is not hanging,’ said the prisoner, with a faint smile. Sergeant Giles took him by the arm to lead him away. Some ten rods distant, a dozen dragoons could be seen in line, under arms. . While Somerton stood deeply affected by this development, General Marioz: and two of his aides arrived at the scene. His coming was 4ailed with universal cheering by the soldiers. Rainford thea proceeded to relate the circum- stances of Dee ’s capture, and the unsatis- factory results of his examination, both on that and a previous occasion, with the extenuating fact of the rescue of Somerton and Miriam. . General Marion examined the prisoner attentively, and appeared impressed by his brave bearing. * About his identity, there can be no mistake,” he said. “This is the same man that I saw on the morning that I wrote thatletter that prevented the ' execution of an innocent person,” “That cannot be possible,” replied Rainford; ‘‘for this is the identical individual that we had in custody, and who mysteriously esceped on the next night.’ “¥o.. must be deceived by a resemblance.” The eneral fixed his keen eyes on Judith, whose distress he lad noticed. “Youn woman,” he said, suddenly, ‘do you know thls man?” Thero was a dead silence, “Tam answered,” said Marion. Judith was terribly pate. “ts he or ig ho not called Guy Deering?’ resumed Marior, with a directness and energy that it was im- poysible to ovade. Die pea area ENS one coe Beadle’s Dime Library. Judith attempted to speak; but her voice died in her throat. ‘There is no such evidence in the world as that!” said Marion, in a suppressed voice. ‘*Gentlemen,”’ said the prisoner, solemnly, ‘I ac- knowledge that I am Guy Deering!" “That settles it,” observed Marion. ‘‘Hed he saved a score of men from a building to which his own pertidy applied the burning brand, there could be but one fate awarded him, It is the will of Washington,” “You confess?” queried Somerton, nervously. **T confess to the name—not to the deeds.” ** Let us not protract this scene,’’ observed Marion. Say once more,” continued Somerton, gloomily, “that you are Guy Deering.” ‘Say it Nera f it not!’ cried the swordmaker; “for it is a foul yet generous lie. Your name is Henderson; and the universal world cannot change it, if it spoke [in one concentrated voice, and called you Deering. You shall not—shal not die!” “Tn the name of Heaven, be silent!’’ entreated the prisoner. Judith’s eyes wandered wonderingly to Hirl, the hunchback. ** Silent! the angels forbid! It is time tospeak. I will not permit the sacrifice. Your noble soul shall not go out of the world in the blackness of infamy.” Every face was turned with supreme astonishment to the swordmaker. “Consider—reflect! What will you—what can you do?” remonstrated the spy, with thrilling earnestness. “I will bring here the man who has borne the name of Guy Deering. I will place before these gentlemen the real Guy Deering.’ Judith began to tremble; something in the voice of Hirl was turning her sudden joy into terror. The old man stood up erect; he cast his slouched hat upon the ground; he tore off a wig and false shoulders, and Hirl, the hunchback, was transform- ed into the exact counterpart of the prisoner. There was a simultaneous outburst of astonish- ment. .For a short space, no one spoke. Judith glanced anxiously from the swordmaker to the pris- oner; doubt and perplexity lingered but a moment on her face, “Twin brothers!” exclaimed Somerton, lost in admiration and wonder. “Fatal, fatal magnanimity!” murmured the spy. “T should have drained this cup alone,” The swordmaker stretched out his hands toward his brother, exclaiming: ‘If there is a Guy Deering in the world, I am he! If there has been a spy be- tween the British and American lines, I am that sp. 1” The prisoner rushed into the open arms; he could not immediately command his voice. He raised his Deed rey and, disengaging himself, said: ‘*“Why shou d ye, who are our judges, distinguish between us, to throw the greater t on this man? If he be guilty, Tam equally so.” Rainford coughed; Somerton turned away his head, and there was a perceptible unsteadiness in on’s voice, when he said to Judith: “Miss Redmond, which of these two is your lover? foe rs em mutely at the swordmaker. a , then, is Guy en or, at least, the per- son who has been thus called,” added the general. ‘But as both have acted in concert, there can be no difference in the guilt of the jes. It is extraordi- ! These men have not the faces of knaves.”’ “A thousand, thousand thanks, brave general!’ cried the spy, fervently. “This / requires looking into, Colonel Somerton. There is, questionless, a mystery here which we do not rightly apprehend,’’ continued Marion, his keen eyes glittering upon the brothers, as if to pierce the secret of their lives, “General,”’ said Somerton, pointing to the man with the blistered hands, “I Owe him a life; ay, not one, but two. Do not put it beyond my power to show my gratitude.” Marion shook his head gravely; but made no an- swer, ‘*Ye whom Nature has formed with such wondrous similitude, answer me this question: which of you was captured by me, after swimming the river in a desperate race for fe?’ demanded Somerton, his curiosity deeply excited. “T was that unfortunate,” said the swordmaker. **And IT,” added the other, ‘“‘was the oid hunch- back who rode into camp soon after, with Crazy and the cart. I gained admission to the prisoner; but, despite your eo ara the same man did not come out that went in.” “T comprehend,” said Somerton. * After leaving the camp,” said the swordmaker, “T drove rapi to Black Swamp, where I showed myself without the disguise of Hirl, the hunchback. The sight of me produced that letter, and prevented the execution of my brother.” “ Hold!” ben! ine Somerton, thoughtfully, ad- dressing the last speaker. “It was you who took me from the tory camp in your cart?” “Tt was; and it was my brother Max who after- ward found you in the thicket, and gave you the pis- tol with which you wounded Black Jaffer.” “Tt was you, Guy, who drove the cart?” said Ju- dith, with flushed face, “It was I, incomparable Hirl! Did you_ think the simple trickery of disguise would conceal your identity from me? It was to me that you_gave , the saw, and that beautiful message; it was I who left you on the margin of your father’s plantation, as Old Hirl, to return, presently, as the Spy. You forgot your assumed character, and you brand- ed me as ‘Infamous,’ It was I, Guy Deering Henderson, that you saved this night at, the cabin, with the self-devotion that ought to elevate you among the saints. It was I, too, who took the char- | acter and name of the Rev. 0 Holdfast; and, whatover be my fate, know that the marriage was mere mummery, without the least legal force, It was thus, oh, Judith, that I watched over and be> friended you,” “ And go, sir, you deceived my son Christian, and Nayed him false when you ought to stood. his friend! believe, at heart, that ye are rebels both, and have been puttin’ your pranks on us all the while, and bringing the inemy to pick off the royal Americans. Oh ye double-faced boys! little did f think, when T's tellin’ ye the news from time to time, that you's run- nin’ arter liberty, aud Mr. Washin’ton, Congress and others!” cried Deborah Hadléy, in a towering passion. SRNR NANT Oe AEN AN SERA A oH ATER DES A TONE AGES OA NN NTT ON SAE ne DET EN OAOU TE SUMED ED “This is your darter-in-law with a vengeance!” screamed Goo Christian wedded! Repent, Sone a afore the wheels o’ time roll ye to the clods o’ the valley!” “The light is breaking upon us, I think,” remark- ed Marion, cheerfully. “Look yonder, Deborah Hadley, and tell me what you see?” The woman shaded her gray brows with her hand and gazed down the plantation; she saw a charge of cavalry, and redcoats and royel Americans flying in dire confusion, ‘*Marion’s brigade!” muttered Deb. ‘* May never one of ‘em die in bed? May they starve miserably in the swamps, or die festerin’ in their wounds, with- out mother, wife, or comrade to soothe their partin’ moments!" Curse not!” said the chaplain, who had thus far been a silent but interested listener. ** Here comes some of my men bringing a prisoner,” said Marion. “Tis my son Christian!” shrieked Mrs. Hadley, ‘and his royal red is redder with blood. Ye ber- barians! to kill one of the king’s anointed, with his commission in his pocket!” The woman sprang forward and threw herself up- on her son, who was brought in upon a litter by four men, who set it down near the general. One of them touched his hat, and said: “We bring you the notorious Christian Hadley, whom justice has at length overtaken.” Hadley’s eyes rested on the brothers Henderson, and rising upon his elbow, he shook his fist at them with inexpressible rage and hatred. “Twas ye who betrayed me!’’ he cried, with start- ling vehemence. Then to his mother: ‘‘Woman, woman, behold the traitors! they are rebels, rebels! They have made us their tgs Apes and their tools, But for them, Marion and his men would be restin* quietly to-day in the swamps of the Santee.” Just then Somerton observed something roll from the pocket of the swordmaker, and picked it up. It oh ‘ — er pe —~ hollow, fastened | the eet y a hinge and spr cely adjusted, He opened it quietly; tt conta: ire J a slip # paper, which te read and passed to General Marion with a smile of intellr gence, The swordmaker saw the movement and sprang to intercept it, but it was too late. “J meant,” he exclaimed, with earnestn “that the secret should perish with me. I call you both ta et he General Marion, you, Colonel Somer- ton, that I have done my duty; that I have not be- aren my trust; that I have not yielded to a cow- ardly love of life, that I am not inj Sh The swordmaker turned with heaving chest to po on held out her hands, and said: “ Forgive, ‘orgive!’ “We will one and all bear witness, that the Sword- maker of the Santee has nobly discharged the trust reposed in him by one whose name I will not here mention,” answered Generai Marion, with a fervor that testified to his sincerity. ‘‘ He who adheres to duty under the blighting imputation of dishonor, is indeed a true hero; and you, Miss Judith Redmond, if I have oreond wp og your feelings aright, cannot a your trust in one more ae than he whe ban ” aa to and fro among us as Hirl, the hunch- “Marry come up! I believe the gal’s gone and fell in love ’ithout lettin’ her aunt knowit. Well, we must be happy while we way, for the wheels o’ time *ll soon roll us away,” said Betsey Grindle. “Let me take away my dyin’ son, and that’s all the favor I’ll ask!’ ¢ Deborah Hadley, glancing fiercely around upon the officers and men. ““Men,’’ said Somerton, ‘convey the wounded man wherever the woman shall direct. “Into the house with him! into the house with him, ye murderers!” said Deb, “Sad is the Ga when my son Christian is brought to me with so iit tle life in his hody. I believe they'll have it all their own way—them that run arter liberty, Mr. Washin’- ton, Congress, and others. But he shall be buried in his royal red, with his Jong sword by his side, his gold shoulder-knots, and his commission in his pock- et. My boy Christian! my boy Christian!” “She has a mother’s heart,” affirmed Betsey Grin- dle, with a touch of feeling. ‘‘The poor creetur is bound up in the man, I dare say, bad as he is. Here comes your father, nieces, and we shall have a great deal to tell him. But we'll take it at our leisure, gals; and my word for it, he won't say ‘nay ' to the colonel, or Guy Deering, or Henderson,”’ ince blushed, and Judith’s face glowed not a e. ““Men,” said MarioA to those who had gathered about them, “say nothing, conjecture nothing, con- cerning these men. Let what you know, and what you do not know, remain alike untalked of.” The dragoons \cheered heartily, and withdrew to their several posts, That day Tarleton and his troops fled for life, and Liberty made a great stride in South Carolina. The brothers Henderson did not then and there cease to be useful, but performed good service for the patriot cause till peace once more visited the land. However great the o tions under which he put his beloved country, the Swordmaker of the Santee felt them more then repaid by the hand of Judith Redmond, who never more called him ‘‘ Infamous;” and Colonel Somerton and Miriam often amused their friends in efter years by tales of Hiz/, the Hunchback. THE END. 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