Читать книгу The Bandits of the Osage - Emerson Bennett - Страница 7

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THE PURSUIT—THE INFORMATION—THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGERS.

Wild and turbulent as the waters that rushed along by his side, were the thoughts and feelings crowding the breast of Edward Merton, as he spurred his noble animal on through the ravine. His mind was now a perfect chaos, where hope and fear, love and revenge, were alternately struggling for the mastery. One thought, however, was ever uppermost: Emily Nevance must be rescued; but as to the manner time and place, he scarcely gave a thought; for amid the whirlwind of ideas crowding his brain, there were none of calm delit ration, so essential to the effecting of his purpose. As he cleared the ravine and entered the forest, he was very forcibly reminded of his headlong speed, by the stumbling of his horse against a tree that had been blown partly across the road, by which he was nearly thrown to the earth.

Immediately dismounting, and finding his horse not materially injured—having only in one or two places slightly ruptured the skin—Merton seated himself upon the fallen tree, and for a few minutes seemed to hold a consultation with himself. Whatever this consultation was, it probably savored more of reason than his former transactions; for on remounting he proceeded at a much slower pace, his mind evidently occupied with matters which at first had been overlooked.

"Yes, she must be saved!" exclaimed he, at length, vehemently. "But how is this to be done? where can I find her? for what purpose is she thus taken away? Doubtless for some foul end! Oh God! if she but come to harm—but no! no! I will not think it—it must not, shall not be!—and yet, and yet, if it should be"—and Edward pressed his hands to his throbbing, burning temples, in an agony of mind almost insupportable. "Oh, the villain! if he do but wrong her, I swear his heart's blood shall answer for it, though I spend a life in search for him! But why do I idle here, when perhaps I may overtake the ruffian—may save her from death, or what is worse, dishonor? Gods! if he wrong her!" and as he spoke, Merton buried the rowels in the flanks of the gallant horse which bore him, and again he was wildly dashing forward, seemingly forgetful of the former accident. But he remained unharmed, and a few minutes hard riding brought him to the cot which had protected him from the storm, when, as if struck by a sudden thought, he ejaculated, "Ha! I will know," and immediately reined in his noble beast, already covered with foam, close to the entrance. A loud hallo not serving to bring any one to the door, he sprang to the ground and for some time vigorously applied his fist to it with no better success. As he was about to remount, however, thinking there was no one within, the sound of smothered voices caught his ear and determined him to continue. His efforts were at last rewarded by a somewhat husky voice calling out:

"Who's thar'?"

"A friend!" replied Merton.

"What d'ye want?"

"To gain an entrance."

"We don't never admit strangers arter night; call to-morrow."

"I cannot delay!—my business is urgent."

"Who d'ye want to see?"

"Hetty Brogan."

Here the smothered conversation was again renewed, which at length resulted in the door being unbolted, and a man's head peeping cautiously out.

"Ar' ye alone?" enquired the same husky voice.

"I am!" replied Merton.

"What brings ye here?"

"I wish to question Hetty Brogan."

"Consarning fortins?"

"Yes!"

"Come in."

Merton immediately secured his horse and entered. Some half smothered embers on a rude hearth cast forth a sombrous light, and served to relieve the various objects from total darkness. Hetty immediately came forward and enquired of Merton his business.

"When I was here a short time since," answered he, "you warned me of danger lying on my path, to which I then gave little heed—for, to tell you the truth, I thought you deranged; but I have since learned the sad reality. I was felled from my horse by a ruffianly blow, while my companion was kidnapped and borne I know not whither. It matters not to me at present how you gained the knowledge you imparted, but I wish to know more. Tell me, if indeed you can tell, where she is at the present moment, or whither her destination, and you shall be richly rewarded."

"To tell you whar' she is don't lay in my power. Her destination is—"

"Where? where?—for Heaven's sake speak!" exclaimed Merton, as the old woman paused.

"Thar', thar', don't git in a passion: you hain't said what you'd give to know; and I reckon as how Hetty Brogan arn't one as tells for nothing."

"Speak, then! old woman; there is gold to unloose the hinges of your tongue!" cried Merton, placing in the hands of Hetty a well filled purse, which she grasped with avidity and dropped into a side pocket; then motioning him to a seat, she resumed:

"Why, ye see, mister—what's yer name, sir?"

"No matter! go on with your story!" said Merton, sternly.

"Ye see, this ere ar' rather ticklish business; and I don't much like the idea o' gitting myself into a scrape, which prehaps I might do by telling a hot-headed younker like you, what you want to know consarning the gal, without first gitting precautions taken."

"Do you mean to say you are going to refuse me the information for which you are already paid?" enquired Merton, angrily.

"Now, now, don't be gitting angry, don't. I only wanted to make you promise you wont never in no way use this ar' information against me; `cause if some folks should find it out, my head wouldn't be worth that;" and she snapped her fingers.

"Well, well, go on! I promise all you desire, on the honor of a gentleman," returned Merton, hastily.

"Well, then, d'ye ever happen to hears o' old Ben David, the Jew, what lives on the bank of the Mississippi?"

"Ay! heard of him for a cut-throat!"

"Hush! not so loud."

"Well, well!—speak, speak! what of him?"

"Thar's whar' the gal's gone."

"Gracious Heavens!" cried Merton, wildly, springing from his seat and clasping his forehead with his hand; "surely, surely not there! My God! what can be done? I will fly to her instantly!— but how gained you this information?—yet no matter!—I will fly this instant!" and Edward bounded to the door, where he suddenly recoiled as though met by some repulsive obstacle, while at the same instant the dark figure of a man filled the entrance, and a deep voice cried, "Hold!" The next moment the figure had advanced into the centre of the room and the door was again closed.

"Hetty, what means this? who have we here?" asked the same deep, stern voice.

"A—a—gen—a stranger, sir! as was just enquiring his way to the river, sir!" stammered Hetty, confusedly, who on the entrance of the last comer had retreated to the farther-side of the apartment, where the darkness screened her from observation.

"Ha! you seem agitated! Beware now you deceive me! A light here!—quick—a light!"

The individual whom we first noticed as questioning Merton previous to his entrance, and who had since remained a silent spectator, advanced to the fire and placed thereon a pine knot, which immediately sent forth a ruddy gleam, lighting the whole cabin and producing a picturesque effect. A momentary pause ensued, during which the gaze of Merton and the stranger met. The latter was tall, commanding in figure, with broad massive chest and limbs to correspond. The outline of his form was decidedly handsome, as was also that of his features, which although of a dark, almost dingy hue, were very expressive, and seemed lit up with the fires of a mighty, and but for a certain slight sinister expression, a noble soul. His eyes were dark and brilliant—his forehead broad and high, surmounted by jet-black hair, which fell down around his neck in long glossy ringlets. His face was medium in length, with rather prominent cheek-bones, cheeks a little dimpled, from which ran two gently curved lines, terminating at the corners of his mouth. His lips were thin and generally compressed— though when otherwise, turned up with something of a sneer. His chin rose prominently from a graceful curve below his mouth, on which was a handsome imperial, and ended with an oval turn. His dress was fashioned much like a sailor's. He wore a roundabout of dark blue cloth, richly embroidered with silk and tassel, tastefully set off by two rows of gold mounted buttons. Underneath of this he wore a fine blue shirt, with large open collar, falling negligently back from the neck, secured by a dark silk cravat, which was in turn secured by running through a plain gold ring. His nether garments were in singular contrast with his upper. His pantaloons of coarse, dark cloth, were fastened around the waist by a sort of wampum helt, in which were confined a knife and two pistols. They came a little below his knees, where they were met by leggins from the skin of deer, which connecting with moceasins, formed a sort of rough boot. On his head he wore a singular covering of untanned leather, shaped something between a hat and cap. Altogether, his whole appearance bespoke a man of a wild, reckless, yet withal, fanciful disposition.

For a moment he stood gazing on Merton with a severe expression—his dark eyes gleaming with unusual brightness—his broad forehead gradually contracting into a frown, as he found his bold gaze returned by one equally bold and unquailing.

"Who are you, and what is your business here?" demanded he, in the tone of one who deems he has a right to know.

"Ere I answer," replied Merton, somewhat haughtily, without removing his gaze, "I would know by what right you question."

"By the right of might!" rejoined the other quickly, his dark eyes flashing.

"Indeed!"

"Ay, sir, indeed!" and his lips parted with a sneer. "Come, sir, do not trifle!" he resumed, again compressing his lips. "If you are unfortunate, speak out, and if it is in my power I will assist you; but if you are beat on an evil errand"— and his eyes flashed fiercely—"beware!"

"My errand is truly not one of evil, and I am rather unfortunate," returned Merton, struck by a singular frankness about the other, and thinking he might perhaps render him assistance. "But whom have I the honor of addressing?"

"I am called Barton. But go on! go on! I would know your story!" he added hastily.

Merton simply related some of the incidents with which the reader is already acquainted.

"Ha!" exclaimed Barton—as Edward concluded his account of the kidnapping of Emily—"and you are now in pursuit?"

"I am."

"But where can the villain have borne her? Here, Hetty, you pretend in second sight, give us the desired information!"

"Why rea-really sir, I—"

"Speak, woman!" interrupted Barton, fiercely. "You know me;" he muttered in an under tone.

"I-I thinks to-to-David's, sir!" stammered Hetty, turning pale and trembling.

"What, the Jew!" cried Barton, with a start. "Here, young man;" and turning to Edward, he hastily drew from his finger a curiously wrought ring; "take this, and speed! speed! for there is not a moment to be lost. Do you know the residence of the Jew?"

"I know the vicinity, and can find it," answered Edward.

"Enough, then! away, away! for you have no time to lose. Find the Jew, present this ring, and demand the girl. He will not refuse your demand. He dare not!" added Barton, with strong emphasis, as he saw Edward look incredulous.

"But—"

"Nay, young man, no questions now. I will see you anon and explain all. Enough, that I have taken a fancy, and am willing to serve you. But come, come—away, away, or you may be too late!" and hurrying Merton from the house, Barton assisted him to mount, and then turned away with an abrupt "adieu!" Once more burying the rowels in his horse, in an instant Merton was rapidly speeding on to the great river, lost in vague conjectures concerning this singular individual, and how his own strange adventure might terminate.