University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

The detail of our story now calls us to the old
hovel made somewhat conspicuous in the former
part of it by the events which then transpired.—
The same evening on which the foregoing conversation
occurred—though perhaps at a later hour
—a group of five rough, villainous looking fellows
were assembled within the walls of the hut boasting
Hetty Brogan for a hostess. Four of these
ruffians were the same as seen at the cave on the
night of the meeting of the banditti, then described
as plotting among themselves some deed of wickedness.
They were seated on rough benches,
around a plain deal table, whereon lay a small
pile of money, the owner of which was to be determined
by the cards now held in their hands.—
Near one corner of the table stood a feeble ligbt,
seemingly struggling with the surrounding darkness,
while opposite it was a bottle, evidently
more for use than ornament, judging by the reddened
eyes and swollen flushed faces of the party.

The fifth person—for there were five besides
the hostess—was standing a little back, so much
in the shade that his features were undiscernable,
and engaged with the latter in conversation. The
game at the table just at this point had become
very interesting, if one were to judge by the earnest
expression in each of their faces. Two of
the party had thrown up their cards, and were
watching with intense interest the proceedings of
the other two, who were drawing their money
preparatory to increasing the stakes.

“Here, Saxton”—said one of the two last mentioned,
whose arm was confined in a sling, addressing
one of the others, and placing at the same
time a well filled purse on the table—“jest unloose
that ar' a bit; I haint got the use of my fingers
enough for such fine work.” The other
complied, and at his second request emptied the
contents on the table. “Thar's the shiners for ye,
Niles”—he continued—“jest go ahead, who's
afeard?”

“I aint,” answered Niles, the very picture of a
ruffian and his opponent for the stakes; “I aint
afeard, so here goes five shiners better;” and he
added a handful of money to the stakes lying on
the table.

“You want to brag, hey! do ye?” returned the
other. “Ha, ha, ha!—hang me, but you shall
brag for something, then! Thar's yer five and ten
better;” and Curdish—for the reader has doubtless
recognised him—threw down fifteen dollars.

“You don't blaff me that way, croney,” said
Niles, at the same time adding seven half eagles to
the pile; “thar's twenty-five dollars better.”

“Well,” observed Curdish, “all or nothing—
thems my sentiments!” and after counting what
money still remained, he pushed the whole into
the centre of the table.

“Well, what 've ye got?” asked Niles.

“I reckon it takes a cool ten yit, Mr. Niles,
afore you'll be allowed to ask that ar' perticular
question;” replied Curdish, rather sarcastically.

“I'm broke, Jack,” rejoined the other; “jest
draw out that ar' ten of yourn!”

“No, by Jupiter, I dont!” growled Curdish, sullenly.

“Then we'll jest fight for stakes!” cried Niles,
grasping the money with one hand, and drawing a
pistol with the other.

Curdish sprang to his feet with an oath, and
the consequences might have been fatal to one or
both, had not the others interfered and restrained
them. The matter was finally settled by Saxton
loaning Niles ten dollars, which made the stakes
even, and a decision was called for.

“Three aces and a pair of kings!” said Niles,
throwing down his hand with a triumphant look.

“Ha, ha, ha!” roared Curdish, throwing down
a flush. “I reckon as how I'll take them ar'
stakes, Mr. Niles!”

“Beat by —!” grumbled the other, uttering
an oath, while Curdish with one hand commenced
transferring the money to his pocket.

“Hurray, old woman! more of that ar' licher
here, d'ye hear?” cried Curdish, whose success
made him feel rather elated. “By Jupiter! we'll
have a merry night—ha, ha, ha! Blast me, but
we'll have a night on't—hey, Bill Riley!—ha,
ha, ha!” and rising from his seat, he reached forth
his brawny hand and gave Riley—whom we have
noticed as the one standing apart in conversation
with Hetty—a familiar slap on the shoulder.

“Hush! Jack,” returned Riley; “don't go to
bein' so boisterous now.”

“Boisterous!”—ha, ha, ha!—who's a better right!
plenty o' money, by Jupiter!” and Curdish brought
his hand down with force on his pocket, making
the contents jingle.

“Let him laugh as can laugh last, Jack Curdish!”
said Niles, somewhat fiercely, who felt
vexed and mortified both at his loss and the hilarity
of the other. “Saxton, will ye jest lend me
another five?”

“No!” answered Saxton; “no more playing to-night!
We've got other business to look to.”

“Right, thar', my trump!” cried Curdish, with
an oath: “I'd like to have forgot it. Hurray!
here comes Hetty with more licker. Blast me,
but she's an ace o' trumps, is Hetty! Hurray,
boys! take another pull all round—jest to steady
nerves, you know, ha, ha, ha!— and then let's to
business.” As he spoke, Hetty, who according
to Curdish's orders had taken the bottle to refill,
returned and placed it on the table, saying:

“Thar's the rale genewine critter, gintlemen,

for them as wants to drink: none better in the
United States of Amerecay, although I sez it as
shouldn't.”

Whether the gentlemen thought so or not, they
made no remark, but the bottle went round until
its contents had disappeared. As Curdish, who
was the last to drink, placed it again on the table,
he turned to Riley, and in a low voice said:

“That ar' fifty of the old Jew told tolerable well
to-night in the way of interest,—hey, Bill!—ha,
ha, ha! So the old villain chuckled did he, to
think as how I's dead, and warnt a goin' to pay
over the chinkers? Hang me, but we'll have a
settlement some day! I jest kind o' owe him a
few”—here Curdish set his teeth hard, and uttered
a horrible oath. “But I say, Bill, how d'ye
come out with the cap'en?”

“O, I jest got a little severe talkin' to, and
caution about the future, that's all,” replied Riley.

“But what's the reason you warnt thar' the
night of the meetin'?” asked Curdish.

“Why, ye see, arter I got my money of old
David, I put off to St. Louis, got on a spree, and
forgot all about it till the thing was all over with.”

“Did the cap'en want to know anything about
that ar' scrape with the gal?”

“Yes, he axed me very perticular about it, and
then insiniwated that another such a scrape might
be likely to injure my health.”

“Used me jest the same way,” said Curdish,
with an oath. “Blast me, but he's gittin' a leetle
too perticular! Wonder if he thinks us gentlemen
ar' a goin' to be idle all our lives? Since
he's got married, hang me if he does anything as
he used to do it! He with a wife,—ha, ha, ha!—
Why four year ago, I'd jest as soon thought of
gittin' married myself. Me married hey! Bill—
ha, ha, ha!—how'd I look with a woman tied to
me?” Here Curdish, excited by the liquor he
had drank, and what he conceived to be the ridiculousness
of such an idea, burst into a hearty
roar. “What's yer perticular opinion about it,
gentlemen,” said he at length, recovering his gravity,
and turning to the rest of the party, who were
conversing among themselves: “dont ye think
the cap'en's gittin' a leetle too perticular lately?”

“Why that's my opinion,” answered Saxton.

“Well them's my sentiments!” returned Curdish,
with another oath; “and blast me if I don't
—”

“Hush! be careful!” interposed Riley; “remember
you're talkin' about our cap'en!”

“Well, 'sposin' I am?” growled Curdish, frowning;
“he arnt no more than a man—and I'm a
man—and blast me if I dont tell him so, and do
jest I please! 'Sposin' he is cap'en, I say, he's
no more than a man!—d'ye understand that, gentlemen,
hey! d'ye understand that, I say?”

“Ay, ay!” answered a voice, “we understand,
of course.”

“Of course we do-does,” hiccoughed another
of the party, called Besley, on whom the liquor
was taking effect. “Of course we-we does,—
hur-ray!”

“Well, then, gentlemen,” resumed Curdish—
who also began to feel quarrelsome from the same
canse—“it's all right, by St. Christopher! and
blast me, but I'll blow his brains—”

“Hold, rash fool!” cried Riley, interrupting
him. “You don't know what yer talkin' about!
Do you perticularly want to get us all shot, hey?
The cap'en's right about the gal! We hadn't
no business to be meddling with innocent women.”

“Hang me, but we've a right to meddle with
jest who we please!” rejoined Curdish, with an
oath; “and who says we haint, is a liar, and no
gentleman!”

“Them's strong words, Jack!” returned Riley;
“but I aint a-goin' to quarrel with ye to-night.”

“Come, come,” said Saxton, interposing, “we've
enemies enough, without quarrelling among ourselves;
and what's more, Jack, you ought to be
the last one to raise a fight—seein' as how we
come here at your request. You said you'd got
a plan to lay afore us, and we'd jest like to know
now what it is.”

“Well, I reckon its putty soon got at,” returned
Curdish, with a savage look. “It's nothing more
nor less than what we's talkin' about tother night.
You see that ar' arm, don't ye? Well, that ar'
arm was shot by a — Yankee, when him and
another feller interfered in a scrape that perticularly
belonged to me and Bill Riley; and what I
want's revenge!—nothing more nor less than
their heart's blood, by —!” and he closed with
a terrible oath.

“But, Jack, you know that's a perticularly dangerous
business!” remarked Riley, who not having
been with the others on the night in question,
now learned of the intentions of Curdish for the
first time.

“'Sposing 'tis?—by St. Christopher! who's
afeared?”

“The-them's it!” hiccoughed Besley—who
was already too far gone to understand much of
what was said, but who occasionally caught at a
phrase and fancied he must say something in return:
“The-them's it!—who's afeared? Hurhur-ray!”

“But,” said Saxton, “what's the plan, and what's
the pay if we succeed? Ye see the affair's an
ugly one, the best way you can fix it, Jack, and
the temptation must be good, you know, for us
gentlemen—”

“The-them's it! I-I say the tem-temptation's
good—hur-hurray!” interrupted Bosley, who
fancied the temptation somehow referred to drinking.

“As to the plan,” answered Curdish, “I don't
know much about it. Ye see I haint no great
head for plans, any how; though John Webber's
offered to give me instruction how to manage,
provided I'll jest help him in another scrape, consarnin'
that 'ar' same gal what we had to do with
afore. He want's to carry her off this time.
Blast me, but she's gittin' quite pop'ler somehow—ha,
ha, ha! But about the pay—that's
all right. Ye see its 'spected they've got lots of
chinkers about 'em, and them as helps me can divide
'em,—all I want's revenge!”

“I'm with ye!” cried Niles, with an oath.

“I'm in!” returned Saxton.

“The-them's it!” hiccoughed Besley: “Hurray!”

“Well, all as goes in this ere business, will have
to help in tother; that's the perticular agreement
'tween me and John. What d'ye say, Bill?”

“I'll have nothin' to do with 't!” answered
Riley. “That ar' other scrape did me; besides,
you know the cap'en's orders—”

“Hang the cap'en!” interrupted Curdish, fiercesposin'
“He needn't know any thing about it; and
sposin' he did, it arnt none o' his business! I
reckon we've got a right to make an honest livin'.
without askin' him! If we haint, why blast me
we'll make a right!”

“Well, I say I'll have nothin' to do with 'it!”
rejoined Riley, firmly.

“Per'aps you wants to peach!” said Curdish,
angrily. “You're gittin' altogether over nice,
somehow, lately.”

“You know me well enough on that score,
Jack,” answered Riley, “to know you're insiniwatin'
what's base and ungentlemanly; and if I'd
a notion to quarrel, you'd have to take back them
ar' words, or one or both on us would be gittin'
cold afore five minutes!”

“Some folks ar' perticularly wonderful smart
in big talk,” retorted Curdish;” but they don't
skeer—”

“Come, come, Jack,” interrupted Saxton; “I'll
answer for Bill's honesty; and if he don't want
to jine us, why jest let him stay away—the fewer
the number the greater the spoil, you know.”

“The-them's it!” hiccoughed Besley, again.

“Thar's enough on us, any how,” put in Niles;
“and I'm of Sax's opinion, that if Bill don't want
to jine, we'd better jest let him stay away.”

“But haint you got no plan how to go to work?”
asked Saxton.

“Hist!” exclaimed Riley, suddenly, bending his
head forward in a listening attitude: “Don't you
hear a noise?”

“The others paused and listened also. “I hear
the hoofs of a horse!” said Saxton, shortly.

“Comin' fast!” remarked Riley. “What's the
game I wonder?”

The sound which at first was rumbling and
distant, now came clear and distinct, and could
not be mistaken. It was a horse urged to his
greatest speed. A moment more the blow of the
animal was audible to the listeners, and the clatter
of his hoofs had paused at the door.

Curdish and Saxton turned a little pale. “I
wonder what's in the wind!” said the latter.
“Surely we haint been betrayed?”

“I don't know,” answered Curdish, “unless it's
John Webber. Nobody else knew any thing about
our comin' here, unless Hetty”—here he cast a
fierce look on the hostess, who catching the expression,
quickly made answer:

“D'ye spose I'd peach, Jack Curdish?”

“Not and live!” growled Curdish, with an oath.

“It's only one, any how,” said Saxton, looking
to the pistols in his belt.

At this moment a knock was heard on the door.

“Who's thar?” demanded Hetty, in a shrill
voice.

“Ele lio!” was the answer.

“Blast me, but it's John Webber!” exclaimed
Curdish. “I knows the voice. Ye needn't fear,
Hetty; open the door!”

Hetty immediately complied, and true to the
suggestion of Curdish, John Webber entered.—
There was a lurking devil in his eye, if we may
be allowed an old expression, as he scanned with
a rapid glance both the apartment and its occupants.
There was something in that eye too, that
forbade familiarity, which each of the party—for
all they knew him to be one of their band, and
believed him as great a villian as themselves—felt;
a something that awed them to a certain respect,
(a sort of devilish mental superiority) which John
—who was no novice in reading the thoughts of
kindred spirits—perceived; and for a moment that
dark smile lingered on his features.

“We's jest talkin' about you,” remarked Curdish,
who was the first to speak. “They say talk
about the devil—”

“Well?” interupted John, sharply.

“O, nothing,” added Curdish, who somehow
fancied it would not be politic to finish the sentence.

“You were talking about me, then!” said John,
with a stern look: “Well?”

“Yes, we's jest mentioning over that ar' business,
you know, about how 'twas best to git at
them ar' fellers, ye see.”

“Yes, I know and see!” returned John, quickly;
“and will add, that the chance you are looking
for will come sooner and in a different manner
than you expect.”

Several of the party started with looks of surprise.
“Ha!” exclaimed Curdish—“thar's some
meaning in that!”

“I never speak without meaning!” returned
John, emphasizing the last word.

“What's in the wind?” enquired Saxton.

“Hark ye, fellows!” answered John; “before I
proceed farther, there must be an understanding.
I am aware, and doubtless you are also—if not you
should be—that there are no ties of friendship between
us. We are drawn together and act together
only so far as our separate interests make
it necessary. Whatever those interests are, matters
not; suffice that they are enough for our
present union. To come to the point. I am
willing to serve you, so far as lies in my power,
but you must serve me in return! Is this the
understanding?”

“Ay! ay!” answered Curdish, Saxton, Niles
and Besley—the last of whom, by the way, owing
doubtless to the turn matters had taken, had recovered
sufficiently to understand what was going
forward.

“But one of your party does not answer,” remarked
John, glancing at Riley.

“I've told 'em afore, I'd have nothin' to do
with't!” said Riley.

John put his mouth to the ear of Curdish, and
whispered: “Can he be trusted?”

“I'll answer for him!” replied Curdish, in a
whisper also.

“And Hetty?”

“She's right!”

“Enough!” said John, aloud. “Those of you
who are willing to enter into an agreement to
serve me, when called upon, for the service I shall
render you, will now swear to do so by kissing this
dagger.” As he spoke, he drew from his breast a
long, polished weapon, of the kind named, and
reached it to Curdish, who took and pressed it
to his lips. Saxton, Niles, and Besley did the
same.

“You have all now deliberately sworn!” resumed
John, as he again took the weapon. “Now
mark me, fellows!” continued he, with a cold,
stern look, compressing his lips and speaking
through his clenched teeth: “I never trifle myself,
and will not be trifled with! Whoever
among you shall dare wilfully, to break his oath,
by that dread eternity before us! I swear he shall
stain this steel with his heart's blood!” and giving
it a flourish, so that it sparkled in the light, he returned
it to its sheath, while the others gazed
upon him in silence with an awe they had seldom
or never felt before in the presence of any
human being. Villains though they were—dark,
treacherous villains—they inwardly acknowledged
John Webber their master. Nor did this
escape his piercing eyes; and with that devilish
smile playing for a moment on his features, he
again resumed:

“I see you understand me. 'Tis well. Now

to business. I accidentally overheard a conversation
this evening which concerns you all. A
project is under way to seize upon the person of
Hetty, here, early to-morrow morning.”

“What's that?” screamed Hetty, who had been
listening attentively, while the others started with
looks of alarm.

“Peace, woman!” said John, sternly, “and listen!
Their object in seizing her is to force her
to tell all she knows concerning that kidnapping
affair, who were the instigators and actors in it,
and also where they may be found, which mayhap
concerns some of you especially—I know not but
all.”

“By St. Christopher!” exclaimed Curdish,
springing to his feet: “I—”

“Hold!” cried John, fiercely; “I have no time
to dally, so do not interrupt me again! The party
for this business consists of three,—two of them
are the men you seek, the third is my father. By
knowing their intentions beforehand, you will be
able to mature plans to your liking, with which I
shall have nothing to do. This much, however,
must be borne in mind! Of the two with my
father, I have nothing to say—you will deal with
them as you see proper; but with regard to my
father himself, understand me:—Not a hair of his
head must be harmed! Secure him if you can,
from doing you violence, but raise not a weapon
against him! Understand me further:—Should
he be harmed, I will know who harmed him; and
by that Heaven above, and that Hell beneath us!
I swear, him will I pursue till his corse lies cold
beneath my feet!” and the aspect of his features
as he spoke, was terrible; so much so that those
very ruffians, bred in crime, felt a sense of secret
fear,—even as a wild, savage beast has been known
to tremble before the awful majesty of the eye and
mind of his superior, man.

For a moment after John spoke all was silent,
when he again added: “I think our business for
the present is settled. When your services are
required, you will be informed. I have no
time to tarry, and so good night!” Turning
away, as he spoke, he abruptly disappeared, mounted
his horse and rode swiftly away, but in an opposite
direction whence he came.

“Blast me, what a look!” was the first exclamation
after the departure of John, which proceeded
from Curdish.

“Never saw the like on't!” remarked Niles.

“Nor I!” added Saxton.

“Nor I!” repeated Besley.

“'Twarnt human!” put in Hetty.

“Well, comrades,” said Riley, who was the last
to speak, “it was devilish enough, and no mistake;
but if I arnt mistaken, you've got other
matters to think on. I've said all along I'd have
nothin' to do with't, when you talked about attacking
others; but since we're agoin' to be attacked
ourselves, I arnt one as will flinch; so
you may jest put me down on the defence, though
somehow I've got a presentiment it'll be my last
undertakin'!”

“Good!” cried Curdish. “I jest knowed as how
you'd come up trump, Bill. More licker, Hetty,
and then by St. Christopher we'll lay our plans!”

Whatever those plans were, our story itself in
its progress must alone develope.