The Evil Eye; Or, The Black Spector Part 45

He stood up as he spoke--his eye flashed, and the stamp of his foot made the floor shake. Mrs. Lindsay knew her husband well, and without a single syllable in reply she arose and left the room.

"Harry," proceeded his stepfather, "I shall take no proceedings against that unfortunate young man--tory though he be; I would resign my magistracy sooner. Do not, therefore, count on me."

"Well, sir," said he, with a calm but black expression of countenance, "I will not enter into domestic quarrels; but I am my mother's son."

"You are," replied Lindsay, looking closely at him--"and I regret it. I do not like the expression of your face--it is bad; worse I have seldom seen."

"Be that expression what it may, sir," replied Woodward, "by the heavens above me I shall rest neither night nor day until I put an end to Shawn-na-Middogue."

"In the meantime you shall have no a.s.sistance from me, Harry; and it ill becomes your mother's son--the woman whose cruelty to the family made him what he is--to attempt to hunt him down. On the contrary, I tell you as a friend to let him pa.s.s; the young man is desperate, and his vengeance, or that of his followers, may come on you when you least expect it. It is not his death that will secure you. If he dies through your means, he will leave those behind him who will afford you but short s.p.a.ce to settle your last account."

"Be the consequences what they may," replied Woodward, "either he or I shall fall."

He left the room after expressing this determination, and his step-father said,--

"I'm afraid, Maria, we don't properly understand Master Harry. I am much troubled by what has occurred just now. I fear he is a hypocrite in morals, and without a single atom of honorable principle. Did you observe the expression of his face? Curse me if I think the devil himself has so bad a one. Besides, I have heard something about him that I don't like--something which I am not going to mention to you; but I say that in future we must beware of him."

"I was sorry, papa, to see the expression of his face," replied Maria; "it was fearful; and above all things the expression of his eye. It made me feel weak whenever he turned it on me."

"Egad, and it had something of the same effect on myself," replied her father. "There is some d.a.m.ned expression in it that takes away one's strength. Well," as I said, "we must beware of him."

Woodward's next step was to pay a visit to Lord c.o.c.kletown, who, as he had gained his t.i.tle in consequence of his success in tory-hunting, and capturing the most troublesome and distinguished outlaws of that day, was, he thought, the best and most experienced person to whom he could apply for information as to the most successful means of accomplishing his object. He accordingly waited on his lordship, to whom he thought, very naturally, that this exploit would recommend him. His lordship was in the garden, where Woodward found him in hobnailed shoes, digging himself into what he called his daily perspirations.

"Don't be surprised, Mr. Woodward," said he, "at my employment; I am taking my every-day sweat, because I feel that I could not drink as I do and get on without it. Well, what do you want with me? Is it anything about Tom? Egad, Tom says she rather likes you than otherwise; and if you can satisfy me as to property settlements, and all that, I won't stand in your way; but, in the meantime, what do you want with me now?

If it's Tom's affair, the state of your property comes first."

"No, my lord, I shall leave all dealings of business between you and my mother. This is a different affair, and one on which I wish to have your lordship's advice and direction."

"Ay, but what is it? Confound it, come to the point."

"It is a tory-hunt, my lord."

"Who is the tory, or who are the tories? Come, I'm at home here. What's your plan?"

"Why, simple pursuit. We have the _posse comitatus_."

"The _posse comitatus!_--the posse devil; what do the tories care about the posse comitatus? Have you bloodhounds?"

"No, my lord, but I think we can procure them."

"Because," proceeded his lordship, "to go hunt a tory without bloodhounds is like looking for your grandmother's needle in a bottle of straw."

"I am thankful to your lordship for that hint," replied Harry Woodward; "but the truth is, I have been almost since my infancy out of the country, and am consequently, very ignorant of its usages."

"What particular tory are you going to hunt?'"

"A fellow named Shawn-na-Middogue."

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 736-- _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim]

"Ah! _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim? Don't hunt him. If you're wise you'll keep your distance from that young fellow. I tell you, Mr.

Woodward, there will be more danger to yourself in the hunt than there will be to him. It's a well-known fact that it was your mother's severity to his family that made a tory of him; and, as I said before, I would strongly recommend you to avoid him. How many bloodhounds have you got?"

"Why, I think we can muster half a dozen."

"Ay, but do you know how to hunt them?"

"Not exactly; but I suppose we may depend upon the instinct of the dogs."

"No, sir, you may not, unless to a very limited extent. Those tories always, when pursued by bloodhounds, go down the wind whenever it is possible, and, consequently, leave very little trail behind them. Your object will be, of course, to hunt them against the wind; they will consequently have little chance of escape, unless, as they are often in the habit of doing, they administer a sop."

"What is a sop, my lord?"

"A piece of raw beef or mutton, kept for twenty-four hours under the armpit until it becomes saturated with the moisture of the body; after this, administer it to the dog, and instead of attacking he will follow you over the world. The other sop resorted to by these fellows is the middogue, or skean, and, as they contrive to manage its application, it is the surer of the two. Should you like to see Tom?"

"Unquestionably, my lord. I intended before going to have requested the honor of a short interview."

"Ay, of course, to make love. Well, I tell you that Tom, like her uncle, has her wits about her. Go up, then, you will find her in the withdrawing-room; and listen--I desire that you will tell her of your tory-hunting project, and ask her opinion upon it. Now, don't forget that, because I will make inquiries about it."

Woodward certainly found her in what was then termed the withdrawing-room. She was in the act of embroidering, and received him with much courtesy and kindness.

"I hope your mother and family are all well, Mr. Woodward," she said; "as for your sister Maria she is quite a stay-at-home. Does she ever visit any one at all?"

"Very rarely, indeed, Miss Riddle: but I think she will soon do herself the pleasure of calling upon you."

"I shall feel much obliged, Mr. Woodward. From what I have heard, and the little I have seen of her, a most amiable girl You have had a chat with my kind-hearted, but eccentric uncle?"

"I have; and he imposed it on me as a condition that I should mention to you an enterprise on which I am bent."

"An enterprise! Pray, what is it?"

"Why, a tory-hunt; I am going to hunt down Shawn-na-Middogue, as he is called, and I think it will be rendering the country a service to get rid of him."

Miss Riddle's face got pale as ashes; and she looked earnestly and solemnly into Woodward's face.

"Mr. Woodward," said she, "would you oblige me with one simple request?

Do not hunt down Shawn-na-Middogue: my uncle and I owe him our lives."

"How is that, Miss Riddle?"

"Do you not know that my uncle was a tory hunter?"

"I have certainly heard so," replied Woodward; "and I am, besides, aware of it from the admirable instructions which he gave me concerning the best method of hunting them down."

"Yes, but did he encourage you in your determination of hunting down Shawn-na-Middogue?"

"No, certainly; but, on the contrary, advised me to pa.s.s him by--to have nothing to do with him."