11. CHAPTER XI.
WIRY WILLY AND JACK BIM.
When Wiry Willy found himself alone in the attic, a
prisoner, and thought of the painful anxiety of Edith for
his return, her disappointment, and her probable fate, if she
fell into the hands of the creatures of Ruffleton, a result to
be anticipated, he became a victim of the most excruciating
misery. His first impulse was to burst open the door, when
he reflected that every passage was strictly guarded. His
next was to throw up the window opening on the roof; but
his escape by day seemed impossible. He threw himself on
a bed in the corner of the room to rally his energies and
concentrate his wits for the emergency. He remained perfectly
motionless for many minutes, when he remembered
what Edith had done in her extremity. Springing from
the bed he fell down on his knees, and uttered a long and
fervent prayer for the intervention of Divine assistance in
behalf of Edith—the Edith who had already been once delivered
by Providence.
When Willy arose his eyes rested on the partly opened
door of a closet beside the window. He gazed steadfastly,
for he thought he had seen it move on its hinges; he recollected
that he had once essayed unsuccessfully to open it.
He strode forward, and thrusting it wide open, beheld a
man seated on the floor within, presenting a pistol at his
breast.
“Why should you kill me?” said the young man, in
amazement, but not endeavoring to elude the aim.
“I don't exactly know,” said the other. “But if I must
kill you I will. No! You're my friend. It's Wiry Willy!”
Saying this he thrust the pistol in his belt and sprang out
of the dark hole.
“Jack Bim!” exclaimed Willy. “And you heard my
prayer!”
“Heard it, and felt it too! I never had such queer feelings
in my life.”
“Still, you were ready to shoot me.”
“That was after you were done, and my natural feelings
returned.”
“But why were you hiding there, Jack? What have
you done?”
“I've done just what you advised.”
“What I advised?” asked Willy, forgetful of his advice.
“Yes. We've done it. The church was a perfect mint.
All sorts of plate, as well as chests of gold eagles. The
parson prayed—but it was no go. He didn't pray to
God, like you, but to us, and we were pretty much devils.
There were casks of wine, also, and we helped ourselves.”
“And what did you do with the money?”
“It made a big pile, and each of us are pretty well off,
if we can only keep from being robbed. I have not slept
a wink since this business was done. Where will you put
your share?”
“My share?”
“Yes. It is with mine in the closet. I demanded an
equal share for you—”
“I will not touch it!” said Willy.
“You can do as you please. And I confess my part
has not made me feel better. I have been hiding with
it, and starving over it. I have been afraid to leave it,
and it's too heavy to carry with me. My pockets and
belt are filled, and yet they don't hold a quarter of my
share.”
“Why did you come here?”
“Oh, I live here, at present. I'm a captain in General
Rufflecton's army, on leave; but he says we'll have fighting
to do in about a week. Then, suppose I should be
killed? What's to become of this confounded gold?”
“But, Jack, Ruffleton's army is not here.”
“But his headquarters are. He's had doors cut through
the walls, so he can go from one end of this block to
the other. This whole square was reserved.”
“And I suppose I'm his prisoner.”
“You may be quite sure of it! But what have you
done?”
“Nothing except strive to protect a young lady—”
“That's it. I thought so. But why should I be only
a captain? Hang me if I will! I've got enough money
to rise. I'll get you off from here, Willy, when it's a
little darker.”
“Do, Jack, and you may have my share of the money.”
“No, sir! I have had trouble enough with my own.
If you take your share, it'll be some comfort to me. I
won't have all the care and trouble myself. So make up
your mind to stay here, or else to take the money.”
“I'll do anything, almost, to be released from this confinement.”
“Willy, all you have to do is to say South, and they'll
let you pass.”
“But how am I to get out of this room?”
“Do you ask such a question? See here!” and with his
bowie knife Jack removed the lock in a few minutes. “But
you'd better not venture down just now. Wait till this
battle's over, and if the Democrats whip the others, our
folks won't like to be kicking up rows. Just listen! That's
pretty smart fighting.” It was the battle in which Edith
became involved.
“It's a bad business!” said Willy.
“I like it!” responded Bim, looking out of the window at
the flashes. “They've got a cannon in the Square, and when
it's rigged up and fired, the others will run. A big noise
frightens the men. 'Twas so at Washington. As soon as
the batteries opened upon us, we couldn't keep the men in
the Avenue. I cut down some cowards for running away.
Wiry Willy, where were you?”
“I was running about with messages.”
“For the General, I suppose. Crook is brave—but he
ought not to 've divided his forces. It was wrong to mount
some on horses, and think to carry off the President. But
there goes the cannon! and yonder run the cowards.
How they are getting pinked in their backs! Fools! They
don't know anything about war. It's always best to go
right through and take the cannon. If they turn tail
and run they're sure to suffer more. It was so at Lodi.
If the little Corporal and his men hadn't crossed the
bridge, after getting on it, they'd have suffered more
than they did. I've been reading, Wiry Willy, and I've
seen some service, too. It's all over now, and I'm as
hungry as a shark. Do you stay here, Willy, and watch
the money, till I can snatch a loaf and a bottle; and when
I come back you can go.”
“I will remain if you desire it, Jack; but I would
rather go with you. Why not leave the gold where it
is? It is not probable, after all your care and watching,
it will be lost? Why not be content with what you
have about your person, and aid me in restoring a poor
distressed daughter to her father?”
“What daughter? What father?”
Willy told him everything connected with the misfortunes
of Edith. Jack was strangely agitated. He had
read of the heroic gallantry of soldiers, and all at once
conceived the idea of becoming a champion of the beautiful
maiden. And when he turned again towards the treasure,
as if his conscience smote him for the manner in which
he had obtained it, he justified himself by condemning the
crime of ministers preaching politics, and philanthropic
Abolitionists stealing slave property from the Southerners.
The treasure being wrested from these two classes, it
seemed a just retribution.
“I am with you, Willy!” said he, grasping the young
man's hand, “and now we will hunt in couples, and will
be too much for all the Trapps.”
Jack boldly led the way down stairs, and at every
turning jested with the sentinel that hailed him. But when
they were passing through the hall, Willy's blood ran
cold on recognising the angry voice of General Ruffleton in
the parlor, and before the open door of which it was necessary
to pass in order to reach the street.
“Jack Bim! come here, sir!” cried the General. Willy
held his breath and paused.
“When I sneeze you must pass,” whispered Jack
“Captain Bim,” continued the General, when Jack entered
and made the military salute, “I request that you
will take a trusty man and scour the city for me. I want
you to find a slender boy, with black eyes, about fifteen
years of age, in black pantaloons and roundabout, with a
blue cap on his head. Call him Langdon, and if he starts,
bring him hither. I have sworn to have him, and rather
than be balked, I would see this whole city in flames.”
Jack sneezed. Willy passed the parlor door, gave the word
to the sentry in the vestibule, and descended to the street.
“All right!” said Bim, overtaking him: “when I sneezed
the General's back was towards you. I managed to get
round him. Now let us go into the Square.”
Having entered the western gate, and proceeded a few
steps, Willy paused and listened an instant to the one who
then addressed the people.
“That's Senator Langdon,” said he.
“But who is this?” cried Jack Bim, seeing a boy answering
the General's description, struggling in the arms of Major
Trapp, under one of the trees.
“Merciful Heaven!” said Willy, “it is Edith!”
“Then we'll have her, Willy,” said Bim: “but that's
Major Trapp! He's my superior officer, and I don't want
him to recognise me, unless it's to be my luck to kill
him!”
“And Jack,” said Willy, “I want him to recognise me.
I want him to see the man he so deeply offended.” And
Willy approached the tree where the Major was striving to
pacify the now recovered Edith.
“Oh, Willy!” cried she. “Heaven sends you to be
my deliverer. Save me! save me!” and she held out her
hands towards him.
“I will, or die!” said Willy, springing forward.
“Then die!” said the Major, presenting a pistol. He
fired, and Willy fell.
“Now or never!” cried Bim, springing forward, with
his bowie-knife. He plunged it into the Major's breast,
who fell without a groan.
Edith, without pausing to witness the whole of the fearful
tragedy, ran towards the stand. She pushed forward
with the determination not to be bereft of consciousness again.
Having reached the front of the stand, and recognised both
her father's voice and features, she uttered no word—no
shriek escaped her; she did not even strive to attract his
attention; but working diligently round to the opposite
side, where there were steps leading to the summit, she
mounted them, and struggling through the chairs occupied
by the distinguished citizens, she reached the goal
which had so often baffled her, and throwing her arms
around the surprised Senator's neck, said, “Oh, father, I
am Edith!”
Recognising the beautiful features of his child, the happy
father folded her to his heart, and announced to the astonished
multitude that he had found his daughter. The
cap had fallen from Edith's head, and her long dark hair
rolled down in waves over her shoulders.
Senator Langdon, of course, could speak no more; but
he was succeeded by Mr. B—.
The Senator descended with Edith, and conducted her to
his hotel, nearly opposite, in Chestnut street. But even
before Edith had reached her chamber, she had related the
manner of her deliverance, and almost frantically insisted
that poor Willy, stunned, not fatally wounded, whose fall
she had witnessed, should be removed from the Square, and
taken to his aged grandmother. Soon after the poor girl
succumbed to her many trials. A fever seized her, and
delirium ensued.
