University of Virginia Library

24. CHAPTER XXIV.
FROM IMPENDING DEATH TO A DUNGEON.

Had an angel suddenly descended from Heaven into the
midst of that circle, I doubt that those who recognized me
would have been more astonished.

“A ghost! a ghost!” they shouted, with blanched faces,
while the females drew back with shrieks of alarm.

A scene of general confusion ensued—every one seeming
surprised, if not terrified—during which I could distinguish
the cries of:

“The rancho is attacked!”

“Seize the scoundrel!”

“Shoot him down!”

“No! no! don't fire!—it's a ghost!—it's the man that
was hung!”

I had alighted on my feet; and though considerably
jarred, was not injured; and with perfect presence of
mind I drew my pistols, and looked eagerly around, in the
hope that I might, by taking advantage of the alarm and
confusion, in some miraculous manner effect my escape.
Through what appeared to be the main dwelling, lay my
way to one of the gates; and thinking it possible it might
not be barred, I darted forward in that direction, shouting
to those before me to stand aside or take the consequences.
Instinctively they gave way; and I had already broken
through the circle, and entered the dwelling, when I heard
a rush behind me, and the cries of:

“Take him! take him!—don't let him escape!—he's
alive enough—he's no ghost,” &c. &c.

Too soon for me the different parties had recovered from
the inaction of a first surprise; and the consequence was,
that I was seized by some two or three stalwart fellows,
who instantly bore me to the ground and disarmed me.

“Don't kill him! Bring him out alive! We want to
see him!” cried the excited crowd, who could not press
into the house; and immediately I was lifted and borne
out into the area, where I had so unceremoniously made
my first appearance.

Here I was cast upon the ground; and for a few minutes
was in danger of being crushed under the feet of the
surging mass, each of whom was struggling with his neighbor
to get a sight of me.

“Fall back! fall back, men!” now cried a loud voice,
which I instantly recognized as Warncliff's; and immediately
a circle was cleared around me, and my hated rival
advanced to my side.

My face was turned from him; and he evidently had

not heard my name mentioned, nor had the remotest idea
that the being he had consigned to an awful death was
living and in his presence; for he addressed me sternly.

“Who are you, fellow,” he said, “that have rained down
here to cause this disturbance?”

I quickly gathered myself upon my feet, and silently
confronted him. The moment his eye fell upon mine, he
staggered back, with a yell of horror—the blood forsook
his face—even his lips grew white—and I believe he would
have fallen, had not one of his men behind given him support.
It was some moments before he sufficiently recovered
himself to again address me; and even then he rather
gasped than said:

“Henry Walton! are you alive or dead?”

“Villain! coward!” cried I: “does your guilty conscience
rather make you fear the dead than the living?”

The sound of my voice seemed to reassure him; and as
the blood rushed back into his face, he exclaimed, angrily,
perhaps to cover the shame and confusion he felt for his
recent display of terror:

“So, then, you are alive; and I have been tricked, deceived.
Where are the traitors? By heavens! I have a
mind to make hanging examples of them!”

“You have no reason to find fault with your tools,” said
I; “for they are after your own heart in villainy, and did
their hellish work as well as you could have done it yourself.”

“'Tis false! else how are you here alive?”

“There is a Power above yours,” rejoined I, solemnly,
pointing upward. Warncliff, and those who surrounded
him, involuntarily, as it were, looked heavenward, as if
expecting to behold the Power of which I spoke. “You
cannot see it now,” continued I; “but it is there, nevertheless;
and ere long you will feel it in terrors more
dreadful than those you but now experienced.”

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Warncliff, impatiently; “are you
mad? or a fool? or have you turned priest, and come here
to preach? But no matter; if my orders had been executed,
you could not be here now; and therefore I say, I
have been deceived by a couple of treacherous scoundrels.”

“If you mean me by that thar remark, I say you lie!”
cried a voice behind me; and the next moment Warncliff
was confronted with the very ruffian who had placed the
rope around my neck and led the horse from under me.

“This to me, fellow?” shouted Warncliff, half choking
with rage, and thrusting his hand into his bosom as if in
search of a weapon.

“Take care!” thundered the other, instantly presenting
a pistol to the head of Warncliff; “if you dare to lay your
hand on steel, I'll blow your brains out!”

“Mutiny! mutiny!” cried several voices.

“No mutiny about it,” roared the big ruffian; “and if
there was, I don't care a—! He's called me a treacherous
scoundrel; and he's got to eat his words, or die,
by—!”

“Well, well, perhaps I was hasty,” returned Warncliff,
in an altered tone, who felt that he was in the ruffian's
power, and judged it politic to speak him fair. “I was
angry at the thought that this man, whom I hate, had
escaped the death to which I doomed him; and in the
heat of the moment, I made use of words whose meaning I
did not consider, nor on whom they would reflect. Now
tell me, Jack—if you saw him executed, as you reported—
how is it I see him here, alive?”

“Don't know, unless Old Nick cut him down,” replied
the other, gruffly. “If I seen him executed, indeed! I
tell you, sir, these here hands put the rope round his neck,
and these here eyes seen him hung, swinging in the air,
as purty a piece of human flesh as ever a turkey-buzzard
could wish to light on.”

A roar of laughter followed this coarse speech, in which
Warncliff affected to join.

“There, Jack,” he said, “I believe you did your duty
faithfully; and Old Nick, as you say, must have had a
hand in his escape, surely. And now, sirrah! (turning to
me) tell me how it is I find you here, which is scarcely less
marvellous than that you should have avoided the death to
which I doomed you? How came you here? how have
you traced us for hundreds of miles? and what strange
fancy could have induced you to voluntarily put yourself
in my power again? Is it possible you have such a liking
for hanging, that you wish to try it again?”

“And who says I am in your power?” replied I,
affecting a coolness and confidence I did not feel. “Are
you sure I am in your power again?”

“Ha! what mean these words?” he cried, in a tone
which betrayed some anxiety, if not alarm. “Are you
not alone? are you supported by others?”

“And have you so underrated me, as to think me foolish
enough to come here alone, and quietly surrender myself
to you?” I continued, perceiving that I had happily roused
an apprehension in his mind, which if I could increase, by
throwing out vague, mysterious hints, in the same tone of
confidence, might be of incalculable benefit to myself.

“By heavens!” he cried: “perhaps we are surrounded
by an armed body! This comes of not keeping the sentinels
to their duty. It is all my fault, I must acknowledge;
and if any harm befall us, in consequence, I shall dread to
meet the eye of our Captain when he returns.”

Here was an unguarded admission that his Captain,
Count D'Estang, was away; and I instantly seized upon
the fact, and turned it to my advantage.

“You need not dread your Captain's return while I am
held a prisoner,” said I.

“What! is our Captain taken?” cried fifty voices; and

I could see that the bare idea excited no little consternation.

“Then shoot the scoundrel that ventures here to tell us
so!” exclaimed others.

“Hold!” said I. “Suppose the life of your chief
depends on the manner in which I am treated?”

“It's all a — lie!” put in Jack, who, keeping his
place by my side, had been closely watching my countenance
for some time. “You're a skeery set, the whole of
ye,” he continued; “or you'd see right through a yarn as
loosely spun as this here chap's. Haint we been travelling
right fast ever since he was hung? and how could he travel
as fast afoot, track us here, and have a body of men at his
heels? And besides, whar could he find the men you fear?
And if he wanted to hold parley with us, d'ye think he'd
come tumbling over the roof, instead of knocking at the
gate? Go away—you're green—you ain't seasoned worth
a—!”

“Right, Jack, by—!” cried Warncliff, clapping him
on the shoulder; “you have more sense than all of us put
together. He has been lying—I see it clear enough; for
if he came intentionally among us, why did he try to make
his escape in the first instance? I understand it all now
—thanks to you, Jack. He escaped from the rope by one
means or another, and has been dogging our steps ever
since; and having traced us here, he has watched his
opportunity, climbed the walls, and mounted the roof,
with a view of ascertaining our numbers, intending to get
off unseen and go in quest of a force to lead against us.
He is a spy upon us, and it will not do to let him escape.
I leave it to you, however, my gallent men, to say what
shall be done with him.”

“Hang him again, or shoot him,” cried fifty voices;
“that's the way to fix spies.”

“Do either at your peril!” said I, firmly and coolly,

though I felt my heart sinking within me at the same time.
“I tell you I am not alone,” I continued, “as you may
soon find to your cost. You seem to forget that Walter
Moreland escaped from your treacherous designs as well
as myself.”

“And he cut you down? Ha! I see it all now,” returned
Warncliff, quickly.

“And if he did,” said I, “is he your prisoner now?
Ha! you see also there is one determined foe who is not
in your clutches; and you will do well to believe he is not
the only one: I tell you there are many more.”

The assurance I so well assumed, seemed to stagger the
freebooters, one and all. They knew not what they really
had to fear, and consequently feared every thing. Had
D'Estang been with them, the case would have been different;
but he was away, and possibly might be a prisoner,
as I had hinted; and in this uncertainty they were afraid
to proceed to extremes with me, lest a similar punishment
should be visited upon him.

“To the walls, men, some of you, with torches, and
carefully reconnoitre the ground below; while the rest of
you prepare to make a sortie with me!” said Warncliff.
“We will soon know if we have any thing to fear; and if
we have, what we have to fear.”

“You may save yourselves the trouble of mounting the
walls,” said I; “for I assure you there is no foe beneath
them. As to making a sortie, you can do as you like; but
my advice to you is, not to go too far from your stronghold.”

“Thank you!” returned Warncliff; “we will believe
just so much of your story, and take just so much of your
advice, as we think proper.”

He then held a short consultation, in a low tone, with
some half a dozen of his cut-throat gang; after which, he
advanced to me and said:

“Hark you, sir! I do not know whether you have lied
to us or not; but we shall probably learn the truth, one
way or other, in the course of the night; and if you have
lied, you shall not outlive the rising of to-morrow's sun.
Away with him to the dungeon! and if he escape my vengence
this time, by my father's soul! I swear to visit the
severest penalty upon the heads of you who have him in
charge!”

“I'll answer for him with my head this time,” replied
Jack; who, with another ruffian, immediately laid rough
hands upon me, and led me away.

They conducted me into an old building, which appeared
to be used as a granary; but ere I entered it, I saw the
females grouped together in another building, in company
with some twelve or fifteen hang-dog looking fellows,
whose style of dress and swarthy complexions denoted
them to be Mexicans. All were staring at me with vulgar
curiosity, and no doubt wondering among themselves what
could be the meaning of all they saw—for they evidently
did not understand sufficient English to render the matter
clear to them.

I scanned the group eagerly, and ran my eye rapidly
around the buildings, in the expectation of seeing Clara.
But I was disappointed; for she, little dreaming who was
so near her, had probably withdrawn herself to an inner
apartment; or else did not feel interest enough in what
was going on to even bestow a look upon it; or, peradventure,
and this idea was not a pleasant one, she might be a
close prisoner, whom Warncliff, ere he took part in the
scene described, might have hurried back to her place of
confinement. But where was her father, Colonel Moreland,
all this time? Was he here, a close prisoner also?
or had a worse fate befallen him? I was strongly tempted
to ask my ruffian-guard some questions concerning my

friends; but believing I should only receive abuse in return,
I kept my lips closed.

On entering the granary, my conductors lifted a trap
door, and gruffly bade me descend. I did so, by means of
a ladder, and found myself in a damp vault, where I could
see nothing—for the light from the torches of my guard
did not penetrate the pitchy blackness which now enveloped
me. As soon as I was fairly down, the ladder was
drawn up and the trap closed; and thus was I left in inky
darkness, to solitary reflection.

And it will readily be believed that my reflections were
not of the most pleasant character. Here was I again, in
the hands of my enemy—an enemy without pity, who
thirsted for my blood—and unless something almost miraculous
should take place in my favor in the course of the
night, I did not doubt that the rising of another sun
would be the signal for my death. And what better place
to put this fiendish design in execution, than the one now
assigned me? I could not avoid a cold shudder, as the
horrible idea rose in my mind that I might never leave
it alive. My fate would at least be known to my friends,
sooner or later; for Morton and Walter had both escaped,
and doubtless were even now gone in quest of assistance;
but it was not probable that assistance would arrive in the
course of the night, even if procured at all; and therefore
I could find little consolation in the idea that my remains
might be discovered and given Christian burial. I
thought of poor Clara; and I censured myself for my imprudence
and carelessness; when, by a different course of
action, I might have withdrawn, with all the information I
had sought, without having discovered myself to my enemies,
and thus put them on their guard and myself in
their power. Sweet Clara! could I but free her with my
life, I felt I would not hesitate a moment at the sacrifice;

but to lose my life as I was now situated, and thus give
my inhuman rival a double triumph, was an idea so terrible
that it almost drove me mad.

Being left in my prison unshackled, I thought I might
as well endeavor to ascertain its dimensions; and accordingly
I began to grope about, moving very slowly and
cautiously. The ground under me was cold and damp;
and when I at length reached one of the walls, I found it
covered with a thick coating of slime, that made me involuntarily
recoil from the touch. The air, too, had a
foul, sickly smell, such as one is likely to encounter on
entering a damp charnel house; and I soon found that
these disagreeable vapors so clogged my lungs, if I may
be permitted the expression, that my respiration was
effected with some difficulty; and I felt a heavy pressure
upon my chest, similar to what one often experiences on
retiring to bed immediately after partaking of a hearty
supper.

Having reached the wall—for my descent into this
loathsome place had been about central way—I began
to make the circuit of my dungeon, keeping the slimy boundaries
within reaching distance as a guide to my steps. I
had proceeded in this manner some fifteen or twenty feet,
and was slowly groping along beside the second wall, when
I suddenly stumbled against a small heap of bones, which
instantly emitted a startling phosphorescent light, and at
the same moment a dull, heavy groan sounded in my ear.

I never was much given to a belief in supernatural appearances
and manifestations; but situated as I was,
laboring under intense nervous excitement, the reader will
hardly doubt my word when I say that I involuntarily uttered
a cry of horror, and reeled against the wall; while
my blood seemed to curdle in my veins,

Nor was my horror abated, when, venturing to scan the
decaying bones by their own ghastly light, I perceived
among them three human skulls, whose naked teeth
grinned upon me hideously, and whose hollow sockets
seemed to have eyes of fire. I closed my own eyes, to
shut out the frightful scene, and made haste to withdraw
from a contact with these remnants of mortality.

But though I turned my back upon them, and kept my
eyes darkened, I seemed to see them as distinctly as before;
till at last, made desperate by the horror I could not avoid,
I resolutely faced them, half expecting to see them assume
some other horrible form. Spell-bound, I gazed upon the
revolting spectacle; while the awful idea took possession
of my half-maddened brain, that foul murder had been
done here—that foul murder might still be done here—
that I might be the next victim—and that ere long my
own bones might lie with these, peradventure to give out
the same warning deathlight to another victim coming
after me.

Gradually I grew composed, so far as dread of supernatural
appearances had troubled me; and in order to
banish all fear by daring the worst, I walked up to the bones,
and seated myself upon them. I had not been in this
position many minutes, when I heard the groan repeated
which had so startled me at first. My mind being now in
a state better fitted for reasoning, I began to look around
me for a natural, rather than a supernatural, cause; and
to find the cause, I traversed my dungeon, and searched
every portion of it by the dim, phosphorescent light. I now
became satisfied that no human being save myself was
here confined; but it did not follow to my mind that no
human being was confined in a dungeon contiguous to
mine; and believing such to be the case, I said, in a loud
tone:

“If you who groan have power of speech, pray answer
me! Who are you? and where are you?”

“And who are you that asks?” replied a voice through
one of the walls.

“A victim of villainy,” I answered; “imprisoned in a
dungeon that I may never leave.”

“And I another,” said the voice.

“Your name?”

“Moreland.”

“Heavens!” exclaimed I: “Colonel Moreland?”

“The same—do you know me? who are you?” said
the voice in the same breath, and in a tone that denoted
surprise.

“I am Henry Walton,” I answered.

“It cannot be; you are deceiving me; he perished by
the halter.”

“He was executed, but did not perish,” I pursued,
eagerly. “He was rescued by your son, to whom he owes
his life.”

“Walter! my son! is he alive? and where is he then?”
cried the Colonel, in a quick, agitated tone.

I hastened to the spot from which the sound of the
other's voice seemed to issue; and putting my lips near
the wall, in a lower tone, lest we might be overheard,
hurriedly communicated the leading events connected with
myself since our separation—mentioning the escape of
Harley, how we had followed the banditti, and what had
led to my incarceration in my present gloomy abode.

“Thank God!” I heard him exclaim: “Walter is alive,
and free, and vengeance does not sleep. I can bear up
now, Mr. Walton,” he continued—“for you have given me
hope.”

“And why are you, like myself, immured in a dungeon?”
I inquired.

“Because I would not comply with the wishes of that
human fiend, Warncliff, and urge my daughter to sacrifice
herself to save me. He demands, as the price of my
liberation, the hand of my daughter in lawful marriage,
and an amount in gold that would beggar me; and he
frankly gives as a reason for seeking this honorable
alliance with Clara, when she is already in his power, that
I, being proud of my family and connections, would not
attempt to disgrace the husband of my child, to whose
marriage I had consented, for the paltry consideration of
revenge; and to make this doubly sure, he further
demands that I swear, by all I hold sacred, never to molest,
nor urge others to molest him; that I will never divulge
what I know of him; and that in the event of his becoming
involved in difficulty, I will stand forth as his friend.
What motive he has in putting in the last-mentioned
clause, is more than I can tell; for if detected in any of
his heinous crimes, I could not save him if I would; and
it certainly argues a fear of detection, which his bold,
high-handed villainies seem to contradict. He further
says, that when the money shall have been paid over to
him, at some place hereafter to be settled upon, I may
then take my daughter home with me; but that meantime
he will hold her as security; and as I deal by my oath, so
will be by her.”

“But you will not agree to his base proposals?” said I,
anxiously.

“No! since I know Walter lives, never, so help me
Heaven!” he replied, with energy. “But hist! I hear a
noise—perhaps some one is coming to me.”

No more words passed between us for perhaps a quarter
of an hour, when the Colonel again spoke, in a low tone:

“I think no one is listening; but it may be prudent for
us to hold no further conversation for the present.”

“A question or two first,” I replied. “How long have
you been confined in your dungeon?”

“Since yesterday eve.”

“Are you at liberty to move about?”

“Yes! Can I do any thing for you?”

“Not here; but should I be murdered, (I shuddered as
the word passed my lips,) and you escape, I trust you will
acquaint my friends with my fate?”

“Certainly I will—rely upon it—and avenge your
death, if that be possible. Alas! young man, I grieve
that you are here; for Warncliff hates you; and unless
something providentially snatches you from his power, you
may give over hope of life.”

“I know it—too well I know it,” I replied.

“Through his misrepresentations, I was led, a while
since, to do you injustice; for which, as we may never
meet again, I crave your forgiveness.”

“You have it, Colonel Moreland—you have it—and
oh!—”

“Well, go on!” he said, as I paused.

“Will you do me a favor, Colonel?” I continued, in a
hesitating tone.

“If in my power, as I hope for mercy, yes! Say on!”

In a tone tremulous with emotion, I continued:

“Should I perish here by the hands of the assassin, will
you tell your gentle daughter—will you tell Clara—that
—that—I thought of her—and prayed for her deliverance
in the last awful moment of my existence?”

“I will! I will!” answered the Colonel, quickly. “Ah!
Mr. Walton, you love her truly, I see; and should we all
escape the toils thrown around us, believe me, I will not
forget that you perilled your life to save hers.”

“Thanks!” cried I: “thanks! you rob death of half its
terrors, and yet make life dearer to me than ever. I have

nothing more to ask. Farewell! and may Heaven's blessings
be upon you and yours!”

About an hour after this conversation, I heard sounds of
music, to which many feet kept time, indicating that the
alarm caused by my appearance among the banditti had
passed away, and that the dance was now renewed. An
hour later, the revelry began to grow boisterous; and so
continued till after midnight; when suddenly the sounds
of merriment were changed to cries of alarm.