Heart of the Blue Ridge Part 15

"I've just heard a rumor that Grearson and Company are going to send a man down there. I'll beat them to it. I meant to start you off in a month or so. But you've learned all you need to here, and it's better to hurry, so as not to run any risk of my compet.i.tors getting in ahead. We'll get away on the train to-night."

So it came about that the two reached Norfolk late in the afternoon of the following day, after what had seemed to the tortured lover an eternity of listless crawling toward the mountains. Now Zeke felt no longer dismay over the rapid flight of the train, as in his first journeying, but only a fierce longing to cover the miles more swiftly.

For he appreciated how great was the crisis. Plutina had written him of her part in the raid on Hodges' still, and she had expressed in some degree the apprehensions she felt. Zeke was sure that, somehow, Plutina's betrayal of the still had become known to the outlaw, and on this account the man had sought vengeance. The lover sickened at the thought of the form that brutal vengeance might take. Often, Sutton, covertly watchful, averted his glance that he might not see the despair on the mountaineer's face.

The two travelers were on their way to the ferry in Norfolk, when inspiration came to Zeke: He bethought him of Cyclone Brant, and the stag-hound, Jack. A few words sufficed for explanation of the matter to Sutton, who welcomed the idea of securing such a.s.sistance for the search.

"I kin git 'im, if he's home," Zeke declared, eagerly. "He lives in Suffolk, 'bout twenty miles toward Wilkes. I'll try an' git 'im on the 'phone."

In this, he was successful, and he was greatly cheered by the anxiety displayed by Brant to be of a.s.sistance. But the detective was distressed over the delay of twelve hours that must ensue before they could get a train to North Wilkesboro'. Sutton removed this difficulty by ordering a special, which should be made up at once, and should stop at Suffolk to take on Brant and his dog. So, within the hour, the three men and the hound were rushing at rocking speed along the tortuous river course that led into the mountains. Instructions had been sent ahead, by Brant's suggestion, to have an automobile and driver in readiness for the arrival of the party at the North Wilkesboro' station.

The three men talked but little during the trip. The tenseness of suspense held them in thrall, and, for the most part, they sat in grim silence, staring out of the windows at the swiftly flitting panorama of moonlit landscape, wherein the fertile level areas changed to narrowing valleys, and these, in turn, to wild gorges, where the river ran in bellowing riot beneath lofty ramparts of stone. Sutton's thoughts veered from pity for his young friend to keen calculation of profits to come from the locust timber of the slopes. Cyclone Brant mused on his past adventurings in these wilds. From time to time, he pulled at the ears of the stag-hound, which sat on its haunches in the aisle, balancing its big bulk elastically against the erratic joltings of the car, and regarding its master with patient adoration in the reddened eyes.

Zeke, too, had the single comfort of a dog's faithful fondness. The bull-terrier crouched on the seat beside its master. The squat-featured face was thrust forward, with the heavy jaw resting on Zeke's lap. Often, the dog whined, with a soft, whimpering note. It was as if the creature knew its master's grief, and wished to tell its sympathy. There was a curious help to the young man's courage in the eager, caressing thrusts of the cold nose against his palm. And he had need of every help, even the least, for, in this period of inactivity, the spirit within him was near to fainting. Because he knew fully the depraved nature of Hodges, he could not blind himself to the frightful peril of Plutina in the outlaw's power. The girl's plight was one to inspire horror in any decent breast; to the lover, worshiping her as something ineffably holy, the possibility of her pollution by the brute who had stolen her away was a thing too monstrous for belief, yet not to be denied. He strove to drive the hideous thought from his mind, but, ever, it crept again into his consciousness. The sickness of his soul found its only relief in bursts of fury against the cause of this wickedness. His manhood a.s.serted itself in a primitive l.u.s.t to torture and to destroy.

There were intervals of softer emotion, when he lived again the sweet raptures of hours alone with Plutina in the mountain solitude. But the moods of retrospection were short, perforce. They weakened him too greatly. The very heart seemed to flow from him like water, as memories crowded. The contrast of the present was too hideous for endurance. Again, the ghastly despair--the black rage, the whining of the dog, and the thrust of the cold muzzle to distract for a moment.

Then, once more, the agonizing round.

The grinding of brakes, as the train drew to a standstill at North Wilkesboro', came as a poignant relief to the three travelers. Even the dogs seemed to relax from strain, and a covert hostility, which had marked their first meeting, vanished while they sniffed at each other in inquisitive, friendly fashion.

The automobile was in waiting. Zeke jumped in beside the driver. The bull-terrier was held firmly between his legs. Sutton, Brant and the hound established themselves in the tonneau. Within a minute after the stopping of the train, the car was rolling rapidly over the highway toward Joines' mill. The chauffeur made the best speed possible under Zeke's urging, and the run was short.

Beyond the mill, the trail branching off the main road was rough and narrow, traversed only by hors.e.m.e.n and the clumsy vehicles of the mountaineers. No automobile had ever pa.s.sed over it, and the party had planned to secure mounts at the mill, and to continue the journey on horseback. Zeke, however, realized the advantage in continuing by machine, were this possible, and he suggested it to the driver. The man was doubtful, but, too, he was an enthusiast in his work, and the opportunity of thus climbing the mountains, where no other car had been, appealed strongly to his ambition. In the end, he consented, with a prudent stipulation concerning possible damages. So, without pause, the automobile shot forward past mill and store, and went clambering along the trail toward the northern coves. The driver ran cautiously enough, despite Zeke's impatience, but, at the best, the trip was a strain on the men and on the mechanism that bore them, for the car lurched and bounced over the uneven surface, and more than once was near to being overturned. Their ultimate safety was due, in great measure, to Zeke himself. Familiar with every foot of the way, he was able to advise the chauffeur of the more dangerous points.

Neither Sutton nor Brant had uttered a word of protest against undertaking the perils of this final stage, but both breathed a sigh of relief, when, at last, the car stopped in the clearing before the Siddon cabin, and the journey was safely done.

The wooden wheels of the poplar clock in the cabin were whirring for the striking of midnight, when their noise was overborne by the grotesque, unfamiliar honkings of an automobile horn. With the second of the three blasts, the cabin's door swung open, and in the light of it was silhouetted the tall form of Uncle d.i.c.k.

"Zeke!" he called; and his voice was a little broken.

Then, with instinctive delicacy of feeling, he stepped aside, as the young man sprang up the steps, and he stood silent, while mother and son were folded in each other's arms, murmuring endearments. But, when Zeke at last turned to face the old man, Uncle d.i.c.k's hand went out to a powerful clasp that told how profoundly he was moved.

"I'm glad ye've come, boy," he said, simply. And Zeke knew that the old distrust and suspicion were gone forever, and in their stead were come affection and faith.

CHAPTER XVIII

Zeke was astounded when he looked around the living-room and recognized Marshal Stone, together with the members of the posse. He suddenly became aware that the change in Uncle d.i.c.k was even greater than he had supposed. There had been a radical readjustment of the old man's' att.i.tude toward life, which disposed him not only to acceptance of Zeke with affection and confidence, but also to toleration of, and alliance with, the "revenuers," whom he had so consistently hated through a long lifetime. Zeke refrained however, from any open expression of his amazement, and at once joined the other men in devising a plan of operations to be begun at dawn.

It was decided that Uncle d.i.c.k should accompany the marshal and Brant, with the stag-hound, to the tracks of Hodges and Plutina on the north face of Stone Mountain, near Sandy Creek, where the dog could take up the scent, in the hope of solving the mystery that had baffled the human searchers.

Then Uncle d.i.c.k interposed a suggestion that suited Zeke well.

"If so be," he exclaimed abruptly, "as how Dan Hodges is atop thet-thar mounting, an' he gits the dawg nigh the precipice, he might throw the critter over. He's powerful strong, Dan is, an' desprit."

"Yes, the fellow's capable of it," Stone agreed.

"I'm a-thinkin' as. .h.i.t mout be well fer Zeke to git atop the mounting fust off," Uncle d.i.c.k continued, "an' watch out fer Hodges. Hit's pretty open up thar, and easy to waylay a body."

"I'll go," Zeke declared, with eagerness.

The marshal directed the men of the posse to scatter to various points on the railway lines.

"Hodges'll probably try to get out of the country, the minute he hears the hound after him," Stone explained. "All of my men have seen him, and they'll be able to stop him, if he manages somehow to cover his scent from the dog, and get off."

Sutton, much against his will, was forced to remain inactive at the cabin as he was not physically fitted for the hard tramping over the mountains.

Zeke was the prey of emotions too deep to permit much interest in a stranger, but he had a friendly, if wan, smile for the veteran, whom he remembered from their single meeting. He attempted a display of attention on hearing of the marriage so recently achieved, but the effort failed pitifully. Seth Jones, however, took no offence, since he understood how great must be the young man's misery. On the contrary, his sympathies were deeply stirred, and he essayed a few words meant to comfort.

"An' I reckon I'll go 'long with you-all, Zeke, in the mornin'," he concluded.

But Zeke shook his head at the offer.

"I got to cross over home fer my rifle-gun," he explained, vaguely.

"I clean fergot to tell ye," Uncle d.i.c.k cried. "Yer rifle-gun's hyar, Zeke. I done fotched it over fer ye."

"Thank ye, Uncle d.i.c.k," was the grave response. But the young man did not rescind his refusal of the veteran's company.

Uncle d.i.c.k offered a share of his bed to Brant and the marshal, but it was refused by both. There were blankets spread for the men on the floor of the porch, where the smoke gushed from a smudge kettle to keep off the mosquitoes. There, presently, the company stretched themselves for the brief dreamless sleep won by the day's fatigues.

Even Zeke fell into a sound slumber, with the bull-terrier nestled at his breast. He had not thought to sleep, only to lie quiet for a little rest, and then, long before the dawn, to issue forth alone.

Nevertheless, his repose was profound for two hours, or more. Perhaps, the stirring of the dog awoke him; perhaps, his own determination, subconsciously exerted. Anyhow, he straightened up suddenly, and stared about him stupidly, reluctant to believe that he had actually slept thus, while Plutina cried out for succor. He was relieved when he perceived that there was not yet even a trace of dawn in the east.

He realized that it was as well, for though he had lost little time, he felt vitally refreshed, with new vigors to battle in behalf of the girl he loved. It was but the work of a minute noiselessly to possess himself of his rifle, and to descend the steps. The bull-terrier kept close at his heels. With the dog still following, Zeke, pressed forward through the darkness toward Stone Mountain.

The other sleepers were aroused by Uncle d.i.c.k as the first gray light was flushing to the rose of dawn over the eastern mountains. There was some astonishment at finding Zeke already gone, but it subsided quickly, for all understood how great must be his anxiety. The men of the posse duly took their departure for the railway points designated by the marshal. Seth Jones set out in pursuit of Zeke. Stone, with Uncle d.i.c.k and Brant, made ready for the actual hunting of the outlaw.

"I've seen Jack more than once pick up a cold trail three days old,"

the hound's master declared, with a manifest pride in the creature's prowess; "and run down his man. Can we get hold of something to give him the scent--an old shoe, or cap--anything?"

"Got jest the thing fer ye," Uncle d.i.c.k replied, leading the way from the cabin toward one of the out-buildings. "Hit's an ole coat. Dan left hit one hot day when he stopped in at my forge, to tinker the rivets to the cap o' the still. Hit was dum hot thet day, an' he left 'is coat. 'Twa'n't wuth comin' back fer. I 'low the smell's about all thet's left to hit."

Brant showed the tattered garment to the stag-hound, and bade the animal smell it. The dog sniffed obediently a few times, sneezed as if in disgust of the odor, regarded its master understandingly, and then walked away.

"That's all that's necessary," Cyclone Brant declared. "The dog and I are ready."

Forthwith, the three men, with the hound, set forth toward the southeast, to cut the track of the outlaw near Sandy creek. They followed the trail to a point some distance beyond the Woodruff Gate, and then left it to ascend the precipitous slopes near the eastern end of Stone Mountain. They were not far from Sandy Creek Falls, when the marshal halted, and pointed out the remains of a camp-fire.

"This is where Hodges stopped to cook his supper the first night," he explained. "I followed the tracks on to the creek, and up it to the falls, where I lost them. Now, it's up to the dog."

A growl from the hound caused the three to look up, startled. There was an exclamation from Uncle d.i.c.k, and the rifle leaped to his shoulder.

"No, no--don't shoot!" Stone ordered. He, too, had seen and recognized Garry Hawks, as the fellow, evidently disconcerted by their presence there, slipped stealthily into the laurel. "He'll be more useful to us alive presently," he explained to Uncle d.i.c.k, who had obeyed protestingly.

"Thet's so, likely," the old man conceded grudgingly. Then he chuckled harshly, for the first time since Plutina's disappearance. "Got his right wing slung up! Did ye see hit? Tiny done hit--pore gal! Purty peart at shootin', Tiny is. Thet-thar--"

"There's a fresh track here made by Hodges," the marshal exclaimed, interrupting. He pointed to a plain imprint on the dirt covering of a flat rock.