Southern Lights and Shadows Part 15

Let Mr. Wilson, his brothers, and Green take your dog and search in the pine-barren. I'll take my men and my dogs and cross the railroad. The signal of any discovery will be three shots fired in quick succession. The gathering-place'll be this house, where a member of the discovering party'll meet the other parties and bring 'em to the discovery. And I beg that you'll refrain from violence, at least until we can reach each other.

We've no proof of anything--"

"d.a.m.n proof!"

"An' our only clew," the sheriff went on, "the missing boat, points to Mrs.

Morris's safety." A little consultation ensued; then agreeing to the sheriff's distribution of forces, they left the house.

The sheriff's dogs--the lean, small hounds used on such occasions--were tied, and he held the ropes. There was an anxious look on his face, and he kept his dogs near the house until the party for the barren had mounted and ridden away, and the party in the boat had pushed off into the blackness of the swamp, a torch fastened at the prow casting weird, uncertain shadows.

Then ordering his six men to mount and to lead his horse, he went to the room of the negro Abram and got an old s.h.i.+rt. The two lean little dogs were restless, but they made no sound as he led them across the railway. Once on the other side, he let them smell the s.h.i.+rt, and loosed them, and was about to mount, when, in the flash of a torch, he saw something in the gra.s.s.

"A hatchet!" he said to his companions, picking it up; "and clean, thank G.o.d!"

The men looked at each other, then one said, slowly, "He coulder drowned her?"

The sheriff did not answer, but followed the dogs that had trotted away with their noses to the ground.

"I'm sure the n.i.g.g.e.r came this way," the sheriff said, after a while.

"Those others may find the poor young lady, but I feel sure of the n.i.g.g.e.r."

One of the men stopped short. "That n.i.g.g.e.r's got to die," he said.

"Of course," the sheriff answered, "but not by Judge Lynch's court. This circuit's got a judge that'll hang him lawfully."

"I b'lieve Judge More will," the recalcitrant admitted, and rode on. "But,"

he added, "if I know Mr. John Morris, that n.i.g.g.e.r's safe to die one way or another."

They rode more rapidly now, as the dogs had quickened their pace. The moon had risen, and the riding, for men who hunted recklessly, was not bad.

Through woods and across fields, over fences and streams, down by-paths and old roads, they followed the little dogs.

"We're makin' straight for the next county," the sheriff said.

"We're makin' straight for the old Powis settlement," was answered.

"Nothin' but n.i.g.g.e.rs have lived there since the war, an' that n.i.g.g.e.r's there, I'll bet."

"That's so," the sheriff said. "About how many n.i.g.g.e.rs live there now?"

"There ain't more than half a dozen cabins left now. We can easy manage that many."

It was a long rough ride, and in spite of their rapid pace it was some time after midnight before they saw the clearing where cl.u.s.tered the few cabins left of the plantation quarters of a well-known place, which in its day had yielded wealth to its owners. The moon was very bright, and, save for the sound of the horses' feet, the silence was intense.

"Look sharp," the sheriff said; "that n.i.g.g.e.r ain't sleepin' much if he's here, and he might try to slip off."

The dogs were going faster now, and yelping a little.

"Keep up, boys!" and the sheriff spurred his horse.

In a few minutes they thundered into the little settlement, where the dogs were already barking and leaping against a close-shut door. Frightened black faces began to peer out. Low exclamations and guttural e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns were heard as the armed men scattered, one to each cabin, while the sheriff hammered at the door where the dogs were jumping.

"It's the sheriff!" he called, "come to get Abram Was.h.i.+ngton. Bring him out and you kin go back to your beds. We're all armed, and n.o.body need to try runnin'."

The door opened cautiously, and an old negro looked out. "Abram's my son, Mr. Partin," he said, "an' 'fo' Gawd he ent yer."

"No lyin', old man; the dogs brought us straight here. Don't make me burn the house down; open the door."

The door was closing, when the sheriff, springing from his horse, forced it steadily back. A shot came from within, but it ranged wild, and in an instant the sheriff's pistol covered the open room, where a smouldering fire gave light. Two of the men followed him, and one, making for the fire, pushed it into a blaze, which revealed a group of negroes--an old man, a young woman, some children, and a young man crouching behind with a gun in his hand. The sheriff walked straight up to the young man, whose teeth were chattering.

"I arrest you," he said; "come on."

"That's the feller," confirmed one of the guard; "I've seen him at Mr.

Morris's place."

"Tie him," the sheriff ordered, "while I git that gun. Give it to me, old man, or I'll take you to jail too." It was yielded up--an old-time rifle--and the sheriff smashed it against the side of the chimney, throwing the remnants into the fire. "Lead on," he said, and the young negro was taken outside. Quickly he was lifted on to a horse and tied there, while the former rider mounted behind one of his companions, and they rode out of the settlement into the woods.

"Git into the shadows," one said; "they might be fools enough to shoot."

Once in the road, the sheriff called a halt. "One of you must ride; back to Mr. Morris's place and collect the other search-parties, while we make for Pineville jail. Now, Abram, come on."

"I ent done nuttin', Mr. Parin, suh," the negro urged. "I ent hot Mis'

Morris."

"Who said anything 'bout Mrs. Morris?" was asked, sharply.

The negro groaned.

"You're hanging yourself, boy," the sheriff said; "but since you know, where _is_ Mrs. Morris?"

"I dun'no', suh."

"Why did you run away?"

"'Kase I 'fraid Mr. Morris."

"What were you 'fraid of?"

"'Kase Mis' Morris gone."

They were riding rapidly now, and the talk was jolted out.

"Where'?"

"I dun'no', suh, but I ent tech um."

"You're a d.a.m.ned liar."

"No, suh, I ent tech um; I des look at um."

"I'd like to gouge your eyes out!" cried one of the men, and struck him.

"None o' that!" ordered the sheriff. "And you keep your mouth shut, Abram; you'll have time to talk on your trial."