The Quadroon Part 59

"Come off that log, and fetch your blue-skin with you! Quick, d.a.m.n yer!

Come off that log! Another minnit, an' I'll plug ye!"

I have said that at first sight of the man I had given up all idea of resistance, and intended to surrender at once; but there was something so arrogant in the demand--so insulting in the tone with which the ruffian made it--that it fired my very flesh with indignation, and determined me to stand at bay.

Anger, at being thus hunted, new-nerved both my heart and my arm. The brute had bayed me, and I resolved to risk resistance.

Another reason for changing my determination--I now saw that he was _alone_. He had followed the dogs afoot, while the others on horseback had no doubt been stopped or delayed by the bayou and mora.s.s. Had the crowd come up, I must have yielded _nolens volens_; but the man-hunter himself--formidable antagonist though he appeared--was still but _one_, and to surrender tamely to a single individual, was more than my spirit--inherited from border ancestry--could brook. There was too much of the moss-trooper blood in my veins for that, and I resolved, _coute que coute_, to risk the encounter.

My pistol was once more firmly grasped; and looking the ruffian full into his bloodshot eyes, I shouted back--

"Fire at your peril! Miss and you are mine!"

The sight of my uplifted pistol caused him to quail; and I have no doubt that had opportunity offered, he would have withdrawn from the contest.

He had expected no such a reception.

But he had gone too far to recede. His rifle was already at his shoulder, and the next moment I saw the flash, and heard the sharp crack. The "thud" of his bullet, too, fell upon my ear, as it struck into the branch against which I was leaning. Good marksman as he was reputed, the sheen of my pistols had spoiled his aim, and he had missed me!

I did not miss _him_. He fell to the shot with a demoniac howl; and as the smoke thinned off, I could see him writhing and scrambling in the black mud!

I hesitated whether to give him the second barrel--for I was angry and desired his life--but at this moment noises reached me from behind. I heard the plunging paddle, with the sounds of a manly voice; and turning, I beheld the Bambarra.

The latter had shot the pirogue among the tree-tops close to where we stood, and with voice and gesture now urged us to get aboard.

"Quick, ma.s.s'. Quick, 'Rore gal! jump into de dugout! Jump in! Truss Ole Gabe!--he stand by young ma.s.s' to de deff!"

Almost mechanically I yielded to the solicitations of the runaway-- though I now saw but little chance of our ultimate escape--and, having a.s.sisted Aurore into the pirogue, I followed and took my seat beside her.

The strong arm of the negro soon impelled us far out from the sh.o.r.e; and in five minutes after we were crossing the open lake toward the cypress clump in its midst.

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE.

LOVE IN THE HOUR OF PERIL.

We glided into the shadow of the tree, and pa.s.sed under its trailing parasites. The pirogue touched its trunk. Mechanically I climbed along the sloping b.u.t.tress--mechanically a.s.sisted Aurore.

We stood within the hollow chamber--the lurking-place of the runaway-- and for the present were safe from pursuit. But there was no joy in our hearts. We knew it was but a respite, without any hope of ultimate concealment.

The encounter with Ruffin had ruined all our prospects. Whether the hunter were yet dead or alive, his presence would guide the pursuit.

The way we had got off would easily be conjectured, and our hiding-place could not long remain undiscovered.

What had pa.s.sed would be likely to aggravate our pursuers, and strengthen their determination to capture us. Before Ruffin came up, there was yet a chance of safety. Most of those engaged in the pursuit would regard it as the mere ordinary affair of a chase after a runaway negro--a sport of which they might get tired whenever they should lose the track. Considering for whom the hunt was got up--a man so unpopular as Gayarre,--none would have any great interest in the result, excepting himself and his ruffian aids. Had we left no traces where we embarked in the pirogue, the gloomy labyrinth of forest-covered water might have discouraged our pursuers--most of whom would have given up at the doubtful prospect, and returned to their homes. We might have been left undisturbed until nightfall, and it was my design to have then recrossed the lake, landed at some new point, and, under the guidance of the Bambarra, get back to the Levee Road, where we were to meet D'Hauteville with the horses. Thence, as originally agreed upon, to the city.

All this programme, I had hastily conceived; and previous to the appearance of Ruffin, there was every probability I should succeed in carrying it out.

Even after I had shot the dogs, I did not wholly despair. There were still many chances of success that occurred to me. The pursuers, thought I, detained by the bayou, might have lost the dogs, and would not follow their track so easily. Some time would be wasted at all events. Even should they form a correct guess as to the fate of the hounds, neither men afoot nor on horseback could penetrate to our hiding-place. They would need boats or canoes. More time would be consumed in bringing these from the river, and perhaps night would be down before this could be effected. On night and D'Hauteville I still had confidence.

That was previous to the conflict with the man-hunter.

After that affair, circ.u.mstances had undergone a change. Alive or dead, Ruffin would guide the pursuit to where we were. If still living--and now that my angry feeling had pa.s.sed away I hoped he was--he would at once direct the pursuers upon us.

I believed he was not dead--only wounded. His behaviour, after receiving the shot, had not been like that of a man mortally wounded. I believed, and hoped, that he still lived:--not that I felt at all remorseful at what had happened, but from mere prudential considerations. If dead, his body by the prostrate tree would soon be discovered, and would tell the tale to those who came up. We should be captured all the same, and might expect the more terrible consequences.

The rencontre with this ruffian had been altogether unfortunate. It had changed the face of affairs. Blood had been spilt _in defence of a runaway_. The news would return rapidly to the town. It would spread through the plantations with lightning-speed. The whole community would be fired and roused--the number of our pursuers quadrupled. I should be hunted as a _double_ outlaw, and with the hostile energy of vengeance!

I knew all this, and no longer speculated upon the probabilities of deliverance. There was not the remotest prospect of our being able to get away.

I drew my betrothed near me. I folded her in my arms, and pressed her to my heart. Till death she would be mine! She swore it in that shadowy spot--in that dread and darksome hour. Till death she would be mine!

Her love inspired me with courage; and with courage I awaited the result.

Another hour pa.s.sed.

Despite our fearful antic.i.p.ations, that hour was pleasantly spent.

Strange it is to say so, but it was in reality one of the happiest hours I can remember. It was the first time I had been enabled to hold free converse with Aurore since the day of our betrothal. We were now alone--for the faithful black stood sentinel below by the hawser of his pirogue.

The reaction, consequent upon my late jealousy, had kindled my love to a renewed and fiercer life--for such is the law of nature. In the very ardour of my affection, I almost forgot our desperate situation.

Over and over again we vowed eternal troth--over and over plighted our mutual faith, in fond, burning words--the eloquence of our heartfelt pa.s.sion. Oh! it was a happy hour!

Alas! it came to an end. It ended with a painful regret, but not with surprise. I was not surprised to hear horns sounding through the woods, and signal shouts answering each other in different directions. I was not surprised when voices came pealing across the water--loud oaths and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns--mingled with the plashing of paddles and the plunging of oars; and, when the negro announced that several boats filled with armed men were in the open water and approaching the tree, it did not take me by surprise. I had foreseen all this.

I descended to the base of the cypress, and, stooping down, looked out under the hanging moss. I could see the surface of the lake. I could see the men in their canoes and skiffs, rowing and gesticulating.

When near the middle of the open water, they lay upon their oars, and held a short consultation. After a moment they separated, and rowed in circles around, evidently with the design of encompa.s.sing the tree.

In a few minutes they had executed this manoeuvre, and now closed in, until their vessels floated among the drooping branches of the cypress.

A shout of triumph told that they had discovered our retreat; and I now saw their faces peering through the curtain of straggling _tillandsia_.

They could see the pirogue, and both the negro and myself standing by the bow.

"Surrender!" shouted a voice in a loud, firm tone. "If you resist, your lives be on your own heads!"

Notwithstanding this summons, the boats did not advance any nearer.

They knew that I carried pistols, and that I knew how to handle them-- the proofs, were fresh. They approached, therefore, with caution-- thinking I might still use my weapons.

They had no need to be apprehensive. I had not the slightest intention of doing so. Resistance against twenty men--for there were that number in the boats, twenty men well armed--would have been a piece of desperate folly. I never thought of such a thing; though, if I had, I believe the Bambarra would have stood by me to the death. The brave fellow, steeled to a supernatural courage by the prospect of his punishment, had even proposed fight! But his courage was madness; and I entreated him not to resist--as they would certainly have slain him on the spot.

I meant no resistance, but I hesitated a moment in making answer.

"We're all armed," continued the speaker, who seemed to have some authority over the others. "It is useless for you to resist--you had better give up!"

"d.a.m.n them!" cried another and a rougher voice; "don't waste talk on them. Let's fire the tree, and smoke 'em out; that moss 'll burn, I reckon!"

I recognised the voice that uttered this inhuman suggestion. It came from Bully Bill.

"I have no intention of making resistance," I called out in reply to the first speaker. "I am ready to go with you. I have committed no crime.

For what I have done I am ready to answer to the laws."