Heart of the Blue Ridge Part 18

It was when evening drew down that, at last, there sounded the noise of a writhing body within the tunnel, and, from her point of refuge close to the crevice, she saw the outlaw crawl out of the pa.s.sage, and stand before her like a demon of the darkness, leering at her fatuously.

"You-all is sh.o.r.e makin' quite a visit," he remarked, with heavy sarcasm.

"An' it kain't he'p ye none, Dan," Plutina retorted. "I hates ye, an'

yer keepin' me hyar hain't goin' to do ye no good. If ye goes fer to lay a finger on me, I'll go over the cliff. I'm worse scairt o' yer touchin' me than I be o' the rocks down thar, Dan." Her voice was colorless, but an undertone of finality ran in it.

The outlaw regarded her sharply from his inflamed eyes. It may be that her sincerity impressed him. Yet, he betrayed no feeling as he answered, carelessly:

"Hain't no call fer ye to be so d.a.m.ned ornery. I hain't a-goin' to tech ye--yit. We'll be together quite a spell, I reckon--till I gits sick o' havin' ye round. If I wanted ye I could jump ye easy from hyar. I'm some spry, if I be big. But ye needn't be skeered, I'm tellin' ye. I hain't a-goin' to tech ye--yit."

The final monosyllable was charged with sinister import, but the man's a.s.surance of her present safety was, somehow, convincing, and she accepted it with the emotional grat.i.tude of one sentenced to death who receives a reprieve. She sank down on the stone bench near the crevice, and watched her jailer with unwavering attention, while he produced a candle from his pocket, and lighted it, and had recourse again to the stone jug of whiskey, which had remained by the bed of boughs.

To-night, the fiery drams made him garrulous, and he discussed his affairs, his hopes, and plans, with a freedom that showed how complete was his expectation of retaining the girl in his power. Thus, Plutina learned of the search being made for her, which was now the active cause in changing the outlaw's purpose in the immediate disposal of his prisoner.

"I was aimin' to lay low with ye right hyar," he explained, after his fourth sup of the spirits. "But I reckon hit's a goin' to be a heap safer to skedaddle. I ain't a-wantin' no d.a.m.ned dawgs fer to chaw me up. So I'm goin' to mosey over Bull Head t'-morrer. You-all 'll go 'long, nice an' peaceable--er ye'll be drug." He spoke with a snarl now. "Ye'll know hit, when I once git ye cross the state line--cuss ye! Ye'll find I hain't so d.a.m.ned shy, arter all!"

Plutina cowered before the savage threat in the words. There was no mistaking the expression in the l.u.s.tful eyes burning on her. His regard was in itself contamination. It was the prophecy of worse, of the final wickedness, to come. The afflicted girl thrilled with loathing before the satyr-like aspect of this man, foul of flesh and soul. But, along with abhorrence of the creature who held her in his keeping so ruthlessly, there was another emotion--that recurrent wonder concerning such delay in the base gratification craved by his pa.s.sion. She could not doubt the fierce longing that seethed in his veins. It was like a visible thing flaming from him; and tangible, for she felt the impact of those brutal desires thronging against the white shield of her own purity, powerless to penetrate, yet nauseating her by the unclean impact. What, then, interposed to check him? What hidden force held him back from working his will against her? She could make no surmise. Certainly, here was no physical restraint to stay him. As certainly, no moral reason would be of effect. The thing was altogether mysterious. So, she marveled mightily, and was curious to understand, even while she thanked G.o.d for the further respite. And now, too, hope began to burn again. Surely, if she were to accompany him on the trails as he had said, there would come the opportunity for escape. He could not be on guard ceaselessly. Vigilance must relax on occasion. It would not be then as here in this dreadful cavern, perched 'twixt earth and sky.... She broke off to listen, for the outlaw, having filled his pipe and drained a deep draught of the liquor, was become loquacious again. This time, thanks to the drink, he waxed confidential, intimate even.

"I kin git away from hyar, an' no d.a.m.ned dawg kain't foller my tracks, nuther. Er if he does, he'll drap inter the Devil's Kittle. But I knows my way 'bout in these-hyar mountings. An' ye needn't be afeared o' losin' me, Honey. I'll hang onto ye good an' tight. When I git ye over the line, I'll have a parson, if ye want. I hain't a-keerin' one way, or t'other. But I got to have ye, willin' or not willin', parson or no parson. I'd hev ye t'-night if 'twan't fer jest one cussed thing. Hit's a'mighty hard to hev yer blood a-b'ilin', till ye're like to bust jest 'cause of a slip of a gal, what ye could smash in yer two han's--an' her so high an' mighty!" The querulous voice ceased, while he had recourse again to the stone jug.

When next he spoke, it was evident that his mood had changed. He was no longer harshly self-a.s.sertive, vainglorious, or brutally frank concerning the pa.s.sion that consumed him. He was, instead, strangely reminiscent, with involuntary revelation of the weakness that preyed upon him. The girl was grateful for the change in him, but her bewilderment increased.

"I seen a feller hung once," Hodges said. His guttural, awed tones were hushed almost to a whisper. "They pulled a black cap down over 'is face, so's he couldn't see nothin' 'bout what he was up ag'inst.

An' his han's was tied together behind 'is neck, with the knot up under his ear--'is left ear, I 'member hit was. I 'member partic'lar."

The speaker's gaze had been downcast; not once had he looked at Plutina. It was as if he had forgotten the girl's presence there with him, and communed aloud with his own gristly memories of the death-scene he had witnessed. His huge bulk seemed somehow shrunken--a physical shriveling in response to the craven fear in his soul. That gray, mottled purple of his face showed again. Plutina wondered, if, indeed, this same memory had been in his thoughts the night before.

But, if so, it only made the thing the more inexplicable. Why should a hanging, long-past, thus haunt him? He was no nervous weakling, to be tortured by imaginary fears. Yet, now, he displayed unmistakable signs of terror, in his voice, his eyes, his whole mien, in the shaking haste that spilled the half of the drink he poured out.

"I seen 'im hung," he repeated, abjectly. "They let the trap drap from under his feet--an' 'im all tied, an' thet-thar black cap pulled down over 'is face to blind 'im. Hit were plumb awful fer to see 'im drap.

An' then the rope stopped 'im right in the air. Hit were a drefful yank he got. They say, hit broke 'is neck, so's he didn't feel nothin'

more. But I dunno. Hit looked like he felt a heap, fer he kicked an'

squirmed like h.e.l.l. Hit weren't purty fer to see. I've seen a big bull-frog what I've speared kick an' squirm jest like 'im. No, hit weren't purty. I'd sh.o.r.e hate fer to have my neck bruk thet-thar way.

d.a.m.n the law, anyhow! They hadn't orter treat no white man thet-thar way. Hit must feel awful, a-standin' up thar, with thet-thar cap down over ye, shuttin' out everythin'--ferever; an' with thet-thar noose round yer neck, an' the knot a-ticklin' yer ear--yer left ear. I 'member specially. An' a-knowin' the noose is a-goin' to tighten, an'

cut off yer breath--fer always. An' a-standin' on thet-thar trap, an'

a-knowin' hit's goin' to drap--a-knowin' the bottom's a-goin' to drap right out o'--everythin'! I don't never want my neck bruk no sech way's thet. Hit hain't right."

Plutina, staring wide-eyed, saw to her stupefaction that tears trickled from the eyes of the maudlin man; she heard him whimpering.

Once more, he poured himself a drink. He mumbled unintelligibly for a little. Then, of a sudden, his voice rose in a last flare of energy, before he rolled on the boughs in sodden slumber.

"d.a.m.n the law in this-hyar state! Hit hain't right, nohow. Jest 'cause a feller loves a gal--to hang 'im! I hain't afeared o' nothin' else, s'fur's I knows, but I'd hate fer to have my neck bruk like his'n was.

I hain't a-takin' no chancet o' thet. I'll wait till I'm over the line. But hit's h.e.l.l to crave a woman!"

Raucous snores told the girl that the man slept, that again she had pa.s.sed through the ordeal in safety. And now, at last, she knew the cause of her escape thus far. The mystery that had baffled her was a mystery no longer. Out of the creature's own mouth had come the explanation. Driven on by gusty pa.s.sion as he was, a yet stronger emotion triumphed over l.u.s.t. Of imagination he had little, but he had seen a man hanged. His memory of that death had been her salvation, for such is the punishment meted to the violator of a woman in North Carolina. In Dan Hodges, that master emotion, l.u.s.t, had met a mightier--fear. Because he was a coward, he had not ventured even the least caress, lest pa.s.sion seize him and make him mad--forgetful of how that other man died so horribly. She had been spared because between him and her a scaffold loomed.

CHAPTER XXI

The full-throated baying of a hound. Men, far in the valleys below Stone Mountain, looked up, and listened, wondering. But those on the mountain heard and understood: Dan Hodges was being run to earth.

The clew offered by the wet place on the cliff had sufficed for the three men who accompanied the stag-hound. They had marked the spot carefully in memory by its distance from a certain stunted pine growing above it and a rift in the precipice to one side. Then they had ascended a furlong to the north, where the ascent was gradual and broken. When they had made sure that they were at the proper level, they searched for an approach to the desired ledge. The dog found the scent by the tunnel, but Brant did not loose the animal. Stone's eyes caught traces of where a bowlder had been moved. A little more searching revealed the opening covered by the stone, which they rolled aside.

"But he's not there, now," Brant declared, as he restrained the eager dog. "Jack is wild to be off, and he wouldn't take a back track."

Uncle d.i.c.k, eager to make sure, would have attempted the pa.s.sage, but Stone interposed.

"I'll go," he declared. "It's my right--my prisoner, you know. Anyhow, it'll be a snug-enough fit for me, and I'm smaller than you, Uncle d.i.c.k."

The old man grudgingly admitted the fact, and made way for the marshal. In five minutes, Stone was back.

"n.o.body there," he announced.

"Then it's up to Jack," Brant exclaimed, and slipped the leash.

The hound shot forward in full cry. The men hurried after at top speed. Almost immediately, the dog vanished among the thickets. There came a clatter of sliding stones, as the big beast went galloping up the rise toward the crest of the mountain. The men followed as best they might, guided by the baying. Uncle d.i.c.k listened with bloodthirsty hopefulness for the crack of Zeke's rifle, which he would recognize.

The fugitive himself heard the hound's sonorous summons, and wasted breath in cursing. He cursed his potations over-night, which had led him to sleep beyond the sunrise. But for such drunken folly, he would have had the trailer hopelessly at fault. Now, at best, it would be a close race--and there was the girl to hamper and hinder. She was running at his side, obedient to the pressure of his hands. He had replaced the cowhide thong, with her hands in front of her, and with play enough for free movement. So far, she had made no resistance to his commands. But the barking of the dog would warn her. If she should turn balky--

What the outlaw feared, came to pa.s.s. The hoa.r.s.e baying sounded to Plutina's ears like sweetest music. The first note told her that friends were at hand for a rescue from the monster by her side. Her heart leaped in the joy of it. A new courage surged in her--courage to defy this creature that held her in thrall.

They were come already across the most of the plain of naked rock that is the top of the mountain. They had rushed without pause through the little grove of dwarf pines that grows near the Devil's Slide, above the Cauldron. They were come, indeed, to the very edge of the Slide itself before Plutina acted. After all, it was not the new courage, but a newer fear, that forced her. She had one swift glimpse of the valley spread a thousand feet below, the giant trees like tiniest saplings, so far away--that dear, adorable valley, where were home and peace and love. But, between her and it, the precipice fell; between her and it, the Devil's Pot boiled; between her and it was this man, who drove her with curses. She looked away from the beloved valley into the loathsome face, and she saw the fear in his eyes--fear, and something else that terrified her. She realized suddenly that she was on the very verge of the Slide, where none might venture and live.

There, just beyond, was the darkened surface of the rock where the shallow stream went slithering down into the Cauldron. An hysteria of fear gripped her, as he dragged her forward, out upon the sloping stone that dipped toward the abyss. She believed that he meant to hurl her from the height. Thus, there would be left no evidence of his crime. His pa.s.sion for her was nothing now--only his pa.s.sion for life.

"Quick, d.a.m.n ye!" Hodges rasped. "I know the way in the dark. Ye needn't be skeered none with me."

He meant it; but the girl did not believe. She thought it a ruse to get her closer to the edge. She shrieked in despair, and sprang away from him. His clutch on the thong checked her. He jerked her back to him, hardly pausing in his stride. She struck at his face furiously, but he dragged her on toward the brink, mouthing at her with foul oaths. She fell to her knees, and hung, screaming, a dead weight. The baying of the hound sounded closer. Hodges threw a glance over his shoulder, and saw the dog charging from the grove. He would have fired, but the girl was in the way. With a final blasphemy, he dropped his rifle, and struck at her--full in the face. She sank down limply, unconscious. Her body slid away slowly, yet with a quickening movement, toward the gulf.

Hodges gave not even a look to his victim. He heard the challenge of the hound, now fairly upon him. There was no time to shoot. He used cunning instead. A mighty jump carried him over the moist surface where the stream flowed. He alighted on the dry rock. His bare feet clutched and held on the sloping surface.... No instinct warned the hound. Its leap brought it down in the wet run-way. Its feet shot from under. The force of its rush finished the work. The outlaw turned just in time to see the hound disappear over the cliff.

Before he had time for exultation over this victory, before he could look to see how fared the girl whom he had struck down so ruthlessly, before he guessed the new peril, another enemy was upon him.

Zeke, too, had heard the baying of the hound. Trembling with eagerness, where he lurked behind a screen of bushes at the south of the grove, he knew that the dog was hot on the trail. He went racing toward the sound, with the bull-terrier at his heels. He had just entered among the trees, when he saw the hound careen past him. He followed, and, as he issued into the open, saw the man and the girl struggling on the edge of the precipice. He sickened at the spectacle, but there was no faltering. With every atom of energy in speed, he darted down the slope. He saw the blow that crumpled Plutina to the rock. He saw it through a veil of red. What he did not see was the low, stealthy, yet quickening, slide of her body toward the brim of the abyss. So, all unconscious of that peril to the one he loved, he sprang to attack his enemy. He saw the hound's fate, and understood the cause of it. He, in turn, cleared the treacherous wet surface by a mighty leap. That leap brought him full on the outlaw's back. The two men went down together.

The crash of Hodges' head on the rock had well been enough to crack an ordinary skull. But his was strong, and the unkempt thatch of hair cushioned it, so that he got no serious hurt. A little dazed by the blow, and by the unexpectedness of the onslaught--nothing more. And he had the bravery of triumphant physical strength. In the instant of attack, he fought back viciously, with blind thrust and clutch. A long, powerful arm writhed around Zeke like a band of steel, and held the a.s.sailant immovable. Lying there on his back, the outlaw looked up into Zeke's face, and recognized it, and cursed this unexpected foe obscenely.

Zeke wasted no energy in words. He was mad with rage against the man he hated. His one desire was to kill. He twined his fingers in the tangled hair, and beat the head upon the stone floor again and again.

But the leverage of his arms was cut down too much. He could not even stun the outlaw, much less kill. He could not reach his rifle, which he had dropped when he sprang to the attack. He could not draw his revolver by reason of the encircling arms. He could only hammer his enemy's head on the rock, with a cruel l.u.s.t for slaughter that availed nothing except to madden him by its futility. His strength, great though it was, was not enough against the man he fought.

Hodges proved the fact presently, for by a tremendous effort, he turned, and pinned Zeke underneath. The force of the impact under the outlaw's heavy weight laid the lad unconscious. The fingers unclenched from his adversary's hair; he lay limp. Hodges rose to his feet, with shambling haste. But, if he meant to kill, fate thwarted him. One foot was placed on the treacherous dampened rock. It slid from under him.

He was thrown from his balance, and sprawled at length. He scrambled on all fours toward the other side of the run-way with desperate haste. He did not attempt to rise. A moment later, he slipped slowly over the brow of the cliff.

Seth Jones, just issuing from the grove, saw the vanishing of the outlaw, but, at the distance, he could not distinguish the man's ident.i.ty or that of the other, lying motionless on the sloping rock.

For the instant, however, he gave no heed to either for sheer horror of something else he saw--the unconscious girl, moving so inexorably to her doom. He shouted in despair, as he raced toward her. But he knew he must be too late. He was powerless to stay her fall--as was the bull-terrier, which had seized her skirt and still clung, only to be dragged down with her into the void. Before he was come to the beginning of the Slide, girl and dog had traversed it--had shot out into the emptiness of s.p.a.ce.