University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

Ralph now made his way into the thick of
the crowd, curious to ascertain the source of so
much disquiet and tumult as now began to manifest
itself among them. The words of peace
which they had just heard, seemed to have availed
them but little, for every brow was blackened,
and every tongue was tipped with oaths and execrations.
His appearance attracted no attention,
if, indeed, it was not entirely unobserved. The
topic in hand was of an interest quite too fresh
and all-absorbing to permit of a single glance or
thought towards any other object of more doubtful
importance, and it was only after much delay
and difficulty that he was enabled at length to get
the least insight into the mystery. All were
speakers, counsellors, orators—old and young, big
and little, illustrious and obscure,—all but the legitimate
and legal counsellor, Pippin, who, to the
surprise of the youth, was to be seen, galloping at
the uttermost stretch of his horse's legs towards
the quiet of his own abode. The lawyer was
known to have a particular care of number one,
and such a movement excited no remark in any
of the rest of the assembly. There was danger
at hand, and he knew his value—besides, there
might be business for the sessions, and he valued

too highly the advantages, in a jury case, of a clean
conscience, not to be solicitous to keep his honour
clear of any art or part in criminal matters, saving
only such connexion as might come professionally.
That the lawyer was not without reason
for his precaution, Ralph had soon abundant testimony
himself. Arms and the munitions of war,
as if by magic, had been rapidly collected. Some
of the party, it is true, had made their appearance
at the place of prayer originally with rifles and fowling-pieces;
but this, in those regions, was a practice
of large extent and occasioned no surprise.
But the managers of the present movement had
seemingly furnished all hands with weapons, offensive
and defensive, of one kind or another. Some
were caparisoned with pistols, cutlasses, and knives;
and, not to speak of pick-axes and clubs, the array
was sufficiently formidable. The attitude of all
parties was warlike in the extreme, and the
speeches of those who, from time to time, condescended
to please themselves by haranguing their
neighbours, teemed with nothing but strife and
wounds, fight and furious circumstance.

The matter, as we have already remarked, was
not made out by the youth without considerable
difficulty. He obtained, however, some particulars
from the various speakers, which, taken in connexion
with the broken and incoherent sentences of
Forrester, who dashed into speech at intervals
with something like the fury of a wounded panther
in a cane-brake, contributed at length to his
full enlightenment.

“Matter enough—matter enough; and you will
think so too—to be robbed of our finding by a parcel
of blasted coons, that haven't soul enough for
themselves to keep them from freezing. Why,
this is the matter, you must know; only last week,

we miners of Tracy's diggings struck upon a fine
heap of the good stuff, and have been gathering
gold pretty freely ever since. All the boys have
been doing well at it; better than they ever did
before—and even Munro there, and Rivers, who
have never been very fond of work, neither of
them, have been pretty busy ever since then; for,
as I tell you, we were making a sight of money all
of us. Well now, somehow or other, our good
luck got to the ears of George Dexter and his
men, who have been at work for some time past
upon old Johnson's diggings about fourteen miles
up on the Sokee river. They could never make
much out of the place, I know; for what it had
good in it was pretty much cleaned out of it when
I was there, and I know it can't get better, seeing
that gold is not like trees, to grow out every year.
Well, as I say, George Dexter, who would just
as leave do wrong as right, and a great deal rather,
got tired, as well as all his boys, of working for the
fun of the thing merely; and so, hearing as I say
of our good luck, what did they do but last night
come quietly down upon our trace, and when Jones,
the old man we kept there as a kind of safeguard,
tried to stop 'em, they shot him through the body as if
he had been a pig. His son got away when his
father was shot, though they did try to shoot him
too, and come post-haste to tell us of the transaction.
There stands the lad, his clothes all bloody
and ragged. He's had a good run of it through
the bushes, I reckon.”

“And they are now in possession of your lands?”

“Every fellow of 'em, holding on with gun in
hand, and swearing to be the death of us if we try
for our own. But we'll show them what's what,
or I can't fling a hatchet or take aim with a rifle.

This, now, Master Colleton, is the long and short of
the matter.”

“And what do you now propose to do?” asked
our hero of his informant.

“Why, what should we do, do you think, but
find out who the best men are, and put them in
possession. There's not a two legged creature
among us that won't be willing to try that question,
any how, and at any time, but more particularly
now, when every thing depends upon it.”

“And when do you move, Forrester?”

“Now, directly—this very minute. The boys
have just sent for some extra powder, and are putting
things in readiness for a brush.”

The resolution of Ralph was at once adopted.
He had nothing, it is true, to do in the matter—no
interest at stake, and certainly no sympathy with
the lawless men who went forth to fight for a property
and possession to which they had not a jot
more of right than had those who usurped its
use from them. But here was a scene—here was
incident, excitement—and with all the enthusiasm
of the southern temper, and with that uncalculating
warmth which so much distinguishes it, he determined,
without much regard to the merits of the
question, to go along with the party.

“I'll ride with you, Forrester, and see what's
going on.”

“And stand up with us, 'squire, and join in the
scuffle?” inquired his companion.

“I say not that, Forrester. I have no interest,
no concern in this matter, and so long as I am let
alone myself, I see no reason for taking part in an
affair, the merits of which I am almost entirely
ignorant of.”

“You will take your arms with you, I suppose.

You can lend them to those who fight, though you
make no use of them yourself.”

“Yes—I never go without arms in travelling,
but I shall not lend them. A man should no more
lend his arms than he should lend his coat. Every
man should have his own weapons.”

“Yes, but, 'squire, if you go along with us, you
may be brought into the scrape. The other party
may choose to consider you one of us.”

“It is for this reason, not less than others, that I
would carry and not lend my arms.”

“Well, 'squire, you might lend them to some of
us, and I would answer for them. It's true, as you
say, that every man should have his own weapons;
but some among us, you see, ha'n't got 'em,and its
for that we're waiting. But come, it's time to start;
the boys are beginning to be in motion—and here
comes Munro, and that skunk Rivers—I reckon
Munro will have the command, for he's thought to
be the most cunning man among us.”

The party was now ready for departure, when
a new interruption was experienced. The duties
of the pastor were yet to begin, and accordingly,
sallying forth at the head of his remaining congregation,
Parson Witter joined the formidable array
of seceders. It is unnecessary that we should
state his purpose; it is as little necessary that we
should say that it was unavailing. Men of the
kind of whom we speak, though perhaps not insensible
to some of the bolder virtues, have no
sympathy or love for a faith which teaches forbearance
under wrong and insult, and meekness
under blows. If they did not utterly laugh in his
face, therefore, at the nature of his exhortations, it
was because, at the very first overture, they had,
to a man, turned their backs upon him and were now
generally mounted. Following the common lead,

Ralph approached the group where stood his
fair friend of the morning; and acknowledged, in
an under tone, to herself, the correctness of her
opinion in regard to the merits of the sermon. She
did not reply to the observation, but seeing his hand
upon the bridle, asked hurriedly—

“Do you, sir—does Mr. Colleton go with this
party?”

“I do—the circumstances are all so novel, and
I am curious to see as much of manners and events
foreign to those to which I have been accustomed,
as may be practicable.”

“I fear me, sir, that those which you may behold
on occasions such as these, and in this country,
though they may enlighten you, will do little towards
your gratification. You have friends, sir,
who might not be willing that you should indulge
in unnecessary exposure, for the satisfaction of a
curiosity so unpromising.”

Her manner was dignified, and though as she spoke
a something of rebuke came mingled with the
caution which her language conveyed, yet there
was evidently such an interest in his fortunes embodied
in what she said, that the listener whom she
addressed could not feel hurt at the words themselves,
or the accompanying expression.

“I shall be a mere looker-on, Miss Munro, and
dare to disregard the caution which you bestow,
though duly sensible of the kindness which gives
it utterance. Perhaps, too, I may be of service
in the way of peace-making. I have neither interest
nor wish which could prompt me to any
other course.”

“There is every need for caution among young
travellers, sir; and though no astrologer, it seems
to me your planet is full of unfavourable auguries.
If you will be headstong, see that you have

your eyes about you. You have need of them
both.”

This was all in by-play. The group had passed
on, and a single nod of the head and a doubtful
smile, on her part, concluded the brief dialogue
we have just narrated. The youth was puzzled
to understand the significant warnings, which, from
time to time, she had given him. He felt unconscious
of any foe in particular, and though at that
time sojourning with a people in whom he could
repose but little confidence, he saw no reason to
apprehend any danger to himself at least. If her
manner and words had reference simply to the
general lawlessness of the settlement, the precaution
evidently conveyed no compliment to his own
capacities for observation. Whatever might have
been her motive, the youth felt its kindness; and
she rose not a little in his esteem, when he reflected
with how much dignity and lady-like loftiness she
had given, to a comparative stranger, the counsel
which she evidently thought necessary to his
well-being. With a free rein he soon overtook
his friend Forrester, and with him took his place,
and kept, with a due sense of propriety, in the
rear of the now rapidly-advancing cavalcade.

As Forrester had conjectured, the command of
the party, such as it was, was assigned to the
landlord. There might have been something like
forty or fifty men in all, the better portion of them
mounted and well armed—some few on foot struggling
to keep pace with the riders—all in high spirits,
and indignant at the invasion of what they considered
their own. These, however, were not all
hunters of the precious metal, and many of them,
indeed, as the reader has by this time readily conjectured,
carried on a business of a very mixed
complexion. The whole village—blacksmith, grocer,

baker, and clothier included, turned out en
masse, upon the occasion; for, with an indisputable
position in the elements of political economy, deriving
their gains directly or indirectly from this
pursuit, the cause was, literally and in fact, a cause
in common.

The scene of operations, in view of which they
had now come, had to the eye all the appearance
of a moderate encampment. The intruding force
had done the business completely. They had made
a final and full transfer, from their old to their
new quarters, of bag and baggage; and had possessed
themselves of all the log-houses in and
about the disputed region. Their fires were in full
heat, to use the frontier phrase, and the water was
hissing in their kettles, and the dry thorns crackling
under the pot. Never had usurpers made
themselves more perfectly at home; and the rage
of the old incumbents was, of course, duly heightened
at a prospect of so much ease and felicity
enjoyed at their expense. The enemy were about
equal in point of number with those whom they
had so rudely dispossessed. They had, however,
in addition to their disposable force, their entire
assemblage of wives, children, slaves, and dependents,
cattle and horses, enough, as Forrester bitterly
remarked, “to breed a famine in the land.” They
had evidently settled themselves for life, and the
ousted party, conscious of the fact, prepared for
the dernier resort. Every thing on the part of the
usurpers indicated a full and perfect state of preparedness
for an issue which they never doubted
would be made; and all the useless baggage, interspersed
freely with rocks and fallen trees, had
been well employed in increasing the strength of a
position for which, such an object considered,
nature had already done much. The defences, as

they now stood, precluded all chance of success
from an attack by mounted men, unless the force
so employed was overwhelming. The defenders
stood ready at their posts, partly under cover, and
so arrayed as easily to put themselves so, and
were armed in very nearly the same manner with
the assailing party. In this guise of formidable defence,
they waited patiently the onset.

There was a brief pause after their arrival at
the spot, on the part of the invading force, which
was employed principally in a consultation as to
the proper mode of procedure, and in an examination
of the ground. Their plan of attack, depending
altogether upon the nature of circumstances
which were yet to be seen, had not at all been deliberated
upon before. The consultation lasted not
over-long, and no man's patience was too severely
tried. Having deputed the command to the landlord,
they left the matter pretty much to that person;
nor was their choice unhappy. Munro had
been a partisan well-taught in Indian warfare; and
it was said of him that he knew quite as well how
to practise all their subtleties as themselves. The
first object with him, therefore, in accordance with
his reputation, was to fix upon some snare, to devise
some plot, by which not only to destroy the inequality
of chances between the party assailing
and that defending a post now almost impregnable,
but to draw the latter entirely out of their defences.
Still it was deemed but courteous, or prudent
at least, to see what could be done in the way
of negotiation; and their leader, with a white
handkerchief attached to a young sapling, hewn
down for the purpose, by way of apology for a
flag, approached the besieged, and in front of his
men demanded a conference with the usurping
chief. The demand was readily and at once answered

by the appearance of the already named
George Dexter; a man who, with little sagacity
and but moderate cunning, had yet acquired a lead
and notoriety among his fellows, even in that wild
region, simply from the reckless boldness and fierce
impetuosity of his character. It is useless to describe
such a person. He was a ruffian—in look
and manner, ruffianly—huge of frame, strong and
agile of muscle, and steeled against all fear, simply
from a brute unconsciousness of all danger. There
was little of preliminary matter in this conference.
Each knew his man, and the business in hand. All
was direct, therefore, and to the point. Words
were not to be wasted without corresponding
fruits, though the colloquy began, on the part of
Munro, in terms of the most accredited courtesy.

“Well, George Dexter, a pleasant morning to
you in your new accommodations. I see you have
learned to make yourself perfectly at home when
you visit your neighbours.”

“Why, thank you, Wat—I generally do, I
reckon, as you know of old. It's not now, I'm inclined
to think, that you're to learn the ways of
George Dexter. He's a man, you see, Wat, that
never has two ways about him.”

“That's true, friend George, I must say that for
you, were I to have to put it on your tombstone.”

“It's a long ride to the Atlantic, Wat; and
the time is something off yet, I reckon, when my
friends will be after measuring me for a six-foot
accommodation. But, look you, Wat, why are all
your family here?—I did think, when I first saw them
on the trail, some with their twisted and some with
smooth bores, tomahawks, and scalping-knives, that
they took us for Indians. If you hadn't come forward
now, civilly, I should have been for giving

your boys some mutton-chops, not to speak of a
cold cut.”

“Well, George, you may do that yet, old fellow,
for here we have all come to take our Sunday
dinner. You are not in the notion that we shall
let you take possession here so easily, without even
sending us word, and paying us no rent—no compensation?”

“Why, no, Wat—I knew you and your boys too
well for that. I did look, you see, to have a bit of
a brush, and have made some few preparations to
receive you with warmth and open arms,” was
the response of Dexter, pointing as he spoke to
the well-guarded condition of his entrenchments,
and to his armed men, who were now thickly clustering
about him. Munro saw too plainly, as he
had been directed, that this was no idle boast, and
that the disposition of his enemy's force, without
some stratagem, set at defiance, and rendered liable
to certain overthrow, any attack under present
circumstances. Still he did not despair, and
taught in Indian warfare, such a position was the
very one to bring out his energies and abilities.
Falling back for a moment, he uttered a few words
in the ear of one of his party, who withdrew unobserved
from his companions, while Munro returned
to the parley.

“Well, George, I see, as you have said, that you
have made some preparations to receive us, but
they are not the preparations that I like exactly,
nor such as I think we altogether deserve.”

“That may be, Wat—and I can't help it. If
you will invite yourselves to dinner, you must be
content with what I put before you.”

“It is not a smart speech, Dexter, that will give
you free walk on the high road; and something is
to be said about this proceeding of yours, which,

you must allow, is clearly in the teeth of all the
practices prevailing among the people of the frontier.
At the beginning, and before any of us knew
the value of this or that spot, you chose your
ground, and we chose ours. If you leave yours or
we ours, then either of us may take possession—
not without. Is not this the custom?”

“I tell you what, Munro, I have not lived so
long in the woods to listen to wind-guns, and if
such is the kind of argument you bring us, I take
it, your dumpy lawyer,—what do you call him?—
little Pippin, ought to have been prime head of your
party. He will do it all day long—I've heard him
myself, at the sessions, from midday till clean dark,
and after all the said nothing.”

“If you mean to persuade yourself, George, that
we shall do no more than talk for our lands and improvements,
you are likely to suffer something for
your mistake.”

“Your `lands and improvements!'—Well, now,
I like that—that's very good, and just like you.
Now, Wat, not to put you to too much trouble,
I'd like to look a little into your title to the lands
—as to the improvements, they're at your service
whenever you think proper to send for them.
There's the old lumber house—there's the squatter's
house—there's where the cow keeps, and
there's the hog-stye, and half a dozen more, all of
which you're quite welcome to. I'm sure none of
you want 'em, boys,—do you?”

A hearty laugh, and cries in the negative, followed
this somewhat technical retort and reply of
the speaker—since, in trespass, according to the
received forms of law, the first duty of the plaintiff
is to establish his own title.

“Then, George, you are absolutely bent on having

us show our title? You won't deliver up
peaceably, and do justice?”

“Can't think of such a thing—we find the quarters
here quite too comfortable, and have come too
far to be in a hurry to return. We are tired, too,
Wat; and it's not civil in you to make such a request.
When you can say `must' to us, we shall
hear you, but not till then; so, my old fellow, if you
be not satisfied, why the sooner we come to short
sixes the better,” was the response of the desperado,
for such, in every essential particular, he
was. The indifferent composure with which he
uttered a response, which was in fact the signal for
bloodshed, not less than the savage ferocity of his
preparations generally, amply sustained his pretension
to this appellative. Munro knew his man
too well not to perceive that to this “fashion must
they come at last;” and simply assuring Dexter
that he would submit his decision to his followers,
he retired back upon the anxious and indignant
party, who had heard a portion, and now eagerly
and angrily listened to the rest, of the detail. Having
gone over the matter, he proceeded to his arrangements
for the attack with all the coolness, and
certainly much of the conduct of a veteran. In
many respects he truly deserved the character of
one—his courage was unquestionable, and any individual
deficiency of this quality is very readily discovered
in the southern country. When aroused,
he still preserved his coolness, even when coupled
with the vindictive ferocity of the savage. His
experience in all the modes of warfare, commonly
known to the white man and Indian alike, in the
woods, was complete—every thing, indeed, eminently
fitted and prepared him for the duties
which, by common consent, had been devolved upon
him. He now called them around him, under a

clump of trees and brushwood which concealed
them from sight, and thus addressed them in a style
and language graduated to their pursuits and understandings.

“And now, my fine fellows—you see it is just as
I told you all along. You will have to fight for it,
and with no half spirit. You must just use all your
strength and skill in it, and a little cunning beside.
We have to deal with a man who would just as
leave fight as eat; indeed, he prefers it. As he
says himself, there's no two ways about him. He
will come to the scratch himself, and make everybody
else do so. So, then, you see what's before
you. It's no child's play. They count more men
than we—not to speak of their intrenchments and
shelter. We must dislodge them if we can; and to
begin, I have a small contrivance in my head which
may do some good. I want two from among you
to go upon a nice business. I must have men
quick of foot, keen of sight, and cunning as a black
snake; and they mustn't be afraid of a knock on
the head either. Shall I have my men?”

There was no difficulty in this, and the leader
was soon provided. He selected two from among
the applicants for the distinction, upon whose capacities,
as he himself had described them, he
thought he could best rely, and led them away from
the party into the recess of the wood, where he
gave them their directions, and returned to the
main body. He now proceeded to the division,
into smaller parts, of his force—placing them under
guides rather than leaders, and reserving to himself
the instruction and command of the whole.
There was still something to be done, and conceiving
this to be a good opportunity for employing a
test, already determined upon, he approached

Ralph Colleton, who surveyed the whole affair with
intense curiosity.

“And now, young 'squire—you see what we're
driving at, and as our present business won't permit
of neutrality, let us hear on which side you
stand. Are you for us or against us?” The question
was one rather of command than solicitation,
but the manner of the speaker was sufficiently
deferential.

“I see not why you should ask the question, sir.
I have no concern in your controversy—I know
not its merits, and propose simply to content myself
with the position of a spectator. I presume
there is nothing offensive in such a station.”

“There may be, young sir; and you know that
when people's blood's up, they don't stand on
trifles. They are not apt to discriminate between
foes and neutrals; and, to speak the truth, we are
apt, in this part of the country, to look upon the
two, at such moments, as the same. You will
judge, therefore, for yourself, of the risk you run.”

“I always do, Mr. Munro,” said the youth. “I
cannot see that the risk is very considerable at this
moment, for I am at a loss to perceive the policy
of your making an enemy of me, when you have
already a sufficient number to contend with in
yonder barricade. Should your men, in their folly,
determine to do so, I am not unprepared, and I
think not unwilling, to defend myself.”

“Ay, ay—I forgot, sir, you were from Carolina,
where they make nothing of swallowing Uncle
Sam for a lunch. It is very well, sir—you take
your risk, and will abide the consequences; though
I look not to find you when the fray begins.”

“You shall not provoke me, sir, by your sneer;
and may assure yourself, if it will satisfy you, that
though I will not fight for you, I shall have no

scruple of putting a bullet through the scull of the
first ruffian who gives me the least necessity.”

The youth spoke indignantly, but the landlord
appeared not to regard or listen to the retort.
Turning to the troop, which had been decorously
attentive, he bade them follow, saying—

“Come on, boys—we shall have to do without
the stranger—he does not fight, it seems, for the fun
of the thing. If Pippin was here, doubtless, we
should have arguments enough from the pair, to
keep them in whole bones, at least, if nobody
else.”

To understand the full force of this sarcasm, it
is necessary that the reader should have some
knowledge of the modes of thinking on the subject
of the duello, and individual readiness for the ultima
ratio, prevailing in the southern and western
country. There is no imputation upon a man so
formidable and destructive to his character and
pretensions as any backwardness in this respect,
and it is by no means unfrequent to hear the lawyer
of the interior defending his client, in a prosecution
for assault and battery, by alleging the pusillanimity
of the person who suffered and submitted
to it. A laugh of bitter scorn and contumelious
emphasis followed the remark of Munro, as
the party went on its way. Though inwardly
assured of the propriety of his course, Ralph could
not help biting his lip with the mortification he
felt from this circumstance, and which he was
compelled to suppress; and we hazard nothing in
the assertion when we say, that had his sympathies
been at all enlisted with the assailing party, the
sarcasm of its leader would have hurried him into
the very first rank of attack. As it was, such was
its influence upon him, that, giving a free rein and
close spur to his steed, he advanced to a position

and eminence which, while it afforded him a clear
survey of the whole field, exposed his person not
a little to the shot of either party, as well from
without as from within the beleaguered district.
The invading force soon commenced the affair.
They came to the attack in the manner of the Indians.
The nature of forest life, and its necessities,
of itself teaches this mode of warfare. Each
man took his tree, his bush, or stump, approaching
from cover to cover until within rifle reach, then
patiently awaiting until an exposed head, a side or
shoulder, leg or arm, gave an opportunity for the
exercise of his skill in marksmanship. To the
keen sighted and quick, rather than to the strong,
is the victory; and it will not be wondered at, if,
educated thus in daily adventure, the hunter is
enabled to detect the slightest and most transient
exhibition, and by a shot, which in most cases is
fatal, to avail himself of the indiscretion of his
enemy. If, however, this habit of life begets skill
in attack and destruction, it has not the less beneficial
effect in creating a like skill and ingenuity in
the matter of defence. In this way we shall account
for the limited amount of injury done in the
Indian wars, in proportion to the noise and excitement
which they make, and the many terrors they
occasion. The fight had now begun in this manner,
and both parties being at the outset studiously
well sheltered and secured, with little or no injury
—the shot doing no more harm to the enemy on
either side than barking the branch of the tree or
splintering the rock behind which they happened
individually to be sheltered. In this fruitless manner
the affray had for a little time been carried on,
without satisfaction to any concerned, when Munro
was beheld advancing, with the apology for a flag
which he had used before, towards the beleagured
fortress. The parley he called for was acceded
to, and his ancient comrade, Dexter, again made
his appearance.

“What, tired already, Wat?—The game is, to
be sure, a shy one; but have patience, old fellow—
we shall be at close quarters directly.”

It was now the time for Munro to practise the
subtlety which he had designed, and a reasonable
prospect of success he promised himself from the
bull-headed stupidity of his opponent. He had
planned a stratagem, upon which, parties, as we
have seen, were despatched; and he now calculated
his own movement in concert with theirs. It was
his object to protract the parley which he had
begun, by making propositions for an arrangement
which, from a perfect knowledge of the men he had
to deal with, he felt assured would not be acceded
to. In the mean time, pending the negotiation,
each party left its cover, and, while they severally
preserved their original relationships, and were so
situated as, at a given signal, to regain their positions,
they drew nearer to one another, and in some
instances began a conversation. Munro was cautious
yet quick in the discussion, and while his
opponent with rough sarcasms taunted him upon
the strength of his own position, and the utter inadequacy
of his strength to force it, he contented himself
with sundry exhortations to a peaceable arrangement—to
a giving up of the possessions they
had usurped, and many other suggestions of a like
nature, which Munro well knew would be laughed
at and rejected. Still, the object was in part attained.
The invaders, becoming more confident
of their strength from this almost virtual abandonment
of their first resort by their opponents,
grew momently less and less cautious. The rifle
was rested against the rock—the sentinel took out

his tobacco, and the two parties were almost intermingled.
At length the hour had come. A wild
and sudden shriek from that part of the beleaguered
district in which the women and children were
congregated together, drew all eyes in that direction,
where the whole line of tents and dwellings
were in a bright conflagration. The emissaries
had done their work ably and well, and the devastation
was complete; while the women and
children, driven from their various sheltering places,
ran howling and shrieking in every direction.
Nor did Munro, at this time, forget his division of
the labour: the opportunity was in his grasp,
and it was not suffered to escape him. As the
glance of Dexter was turned in the direction of
the flames, he forgot his precaution, and the moment
was not lost. Availing himself of the occasion,
Munro dashed his flag of truce into the face of
the man with whom he had parleyed, and, in the
confusion which followed, seizing him around the
body with a strength equal to his own, he dragged
him, along with himself, over the low table of rock
on which they had both stood, upon the soft earth
below. Here they grappled with each other, neither
having arms, and relying solely upon skill
and muscle. The movement was too sudden, the
surprise too complete, not to give an ascendency
to the invaders, of which they readily availed
themselves, more than equal to all the advantages
previously possessed by their opponents. The
possession of the fortress was now in fact divided
between them; and a mutual consciousness of
their relative equality determined the two parties,
as if by common consent, quietly to behold the result
of the affair between their leaders. They had recovered
their feet, both of them, but were both of them
again down; Munro being still uppermost. Every
artifice known to the lusty wrestlers of this region
was put in exercise, and the contest was variously
contested. At one time the ascendency was
clearly with the one, at another moment it was
transferred to his opponent; victory, like some shy
arbiter, seeming unwilling to fix the palm, from an
equal regard for both the claimants. Munro still
had the advantage—but, a momentary pause of
action, and a sudden evolution of his antagonist,
now materially altered their position, and Dexter,
with the sinuous agility of the snake, winding himself
completely around his opponent, now whirled
him suddenly over and brought himself upon him.
Extricating his arms with admirable skill, he was
enabled to regain his knee, which was now closely
pressed upon the bosom of the prostrate man, who
struggled, but in vain, to free himself from the position.
The face of the ruffian, if we may so call
the one in contradistinction to the other, was black
with fury; and Munro felt that his violation
of the flag of truce was not likely to have any
good effect upon his destiny. Hitherto, beyond
the weapons of nature's furnishing, they had been
unarmed; the case was no longer so, for Dexter,
having a momentary use of his hand, provided himself
with a huge dirk-knife, guarded by a string
which hung around his neck, and was usually worn
in his bosom—a sudden jerk threw it wide, and
fixed the blade with a spring. It was a perilous
moment for the fallen man, for the glance of the victor,
apart from the action, indicated well the vindictive
spirit within him; and the landlord averted
his eyes, though he did not speak, and upraised his
hands as if to ward off the blow. The friends of
Munro now hurried to his relief, but the stroke
was already descending—when, on a sudden, to
the surprise of all, the look of Dexter was turned
from the foe beneath him, and fixed upon the
hills in the distance—his blow was arrested—his
grasp relaxed—he released his enemy, and rose
sullenly to his feet, leaving his antagonist unharmed.