University of Virginia Library

37. CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE SORE STRAIT — THE HOT TRAIL — CAPTIVITY.

The cool, sturdy, experienced habits of Dick of Tophet and
his companion, the Trailer, enabled them to make off successfully,
carrying with them not only their own, but the horses of
their captain, and that of Henry Travis. These two horses
were led by the Trailer, while Dick bore away their captive,
as we have seen, upon his own steed. They moved off with
sufficient deliberation, in a walk at first, so that no unnecessary
clatter should reach the ears of any hostile party — took a circuitous
course, which carried them almost within sight of the
main road, upon which, however, they were careful not to show
themselves; and, having reached a point sufficiently remote, they
started off in a smart canter, wherever the thickets would allow
of it, rounding gradually down, toward the swamp, and in the
direction of the bay, where it had been arranged that the whole
party should rendezvous. In this progress they were totally
unpursued. The natural direction taken by fugitives and pursuers
alike, was toward the swamp recesses. The sagacity of
the old troopers assured them that such would be the probable
course of both parties, and their senses confirmed the conjecture.
But for this, and had Sinclair, the moment his victory
was made sure, turned into the woods with his whole troop,
there is little doubt that the outlaws would have been compelled
to abandon their prisoner, in order to effect their own
escape, and even then they would scarce have succeeded in the
latter object. There is a farther probability, however, that,
forced to release their captive, they would first have brained
him. Neither of them was much inclined to burden himself
with prisoners, and, but for the selfish speculations of the least
merciful of the two, our young volunteer would have found his
first field his last. Brunson, the Trailer, was for despatching

him, in the very moment when he knocked him off his horse;
but Dick of Tophet resisted.

“No! no! Rafe; the lad's worth his weight in gould to us,
I reckon.”

“I don't see how. Your gould speckilations, Dick, don't
turn out so well in the eend as you says at the beginning. Ef
we're to carry that lark along with us, the chaince is that we'll
hardly git off with whole bones ourselves.”

“Oh! I reckon we shill. You see the chase takes down for
the swamp. Nobody seed us slipping off up here, but this
young cocksparrow, and it warn't lucky for him that he did.
Hyar, now, gi's a hand, and sling him up to my crupper. I'll
take him easy enough tell he kin raise his own head. It's a
heavy clip you've gi'n him.”

“I reckon the skull's cracked,” was the reply, as they raised
the boy across the saddle. “Ef so, thar's no great use in toting
him. Better throw him off, and let's put him out of his pain.”

“Grim! no! I tell you thar's gould to come out of that boy's
hide. The cappin will pay for his carkiss, dead or alive; and,
ef he gits over that crack of yourn, his dad's able to pay smartly.
He's as rich as a Jew.”

“He's not a-breathing, Dick.”

“Yes! It's only a swound he's in. I reckon such a lick
over your head or mine, would have put us in a swound too.
Bear up. Thar! that will do. Now mount yourself and bring
on the horses. We must push for the bay.”

“But you don't reckon to find anybody thar! And whar's
the cappin all this time?”

“I reckon he's fast lock'd up in the arms of keptivity. But
we kin buy him out, with this boy and his dad. Push on now,
and recollect you've got to pick him up. Ef nobody comes to
the rendezvous by midnight, we must git across the river somehow,
and that too without going down to the village. I reckon
that'll be the place where Willie Sinclair will be pushing, as
soon as he gits his troopers all in hand after this chase. It'll
be no place for us. We must git across the river without going
down to the village, even ef we has to swim the horses.”

“And I wonder how you're to carry Cappin Travis and this
chap across, on swimming horses?”

“Whar thar's a will thar's a way, Rafe! But we must sarch
for a dugout. I reckon I kin find one in and about Four-Mile
creek. At the worst, we kin leave the prisoners behind, ef we
find that we're pressed too hard.”

And, thus communing, they rode — the powerful arms of
Dick of Tophet sustaining the still insensible boy, slung like a
dead body across his saddle, and Brunson following as close as
he could with the two led horses. All this while, the troopers
of Sinclair were fruitlessly pressing down into the swamp fastnesses
after the half dozen fugitives, who had sought refuge
there. And this search was the loss of a great deal of precious
time. Joel Andrews and his comrade, with their captive, had
reached the bay where the boy's father had been fettered, long
before the lights began to gleam in the distant woods, from the
torches of Sinclair's troop, now all on the trail, beating the
woods from the main road to the edge of the swamp, in search
of the missing boy.

Before our fugitives reached this point, Henry Travis began
to recover. His groans, followed by a struggle to raise himself
upon the saddle, apprized Dick of Tophet of his returning
life and senses.

“He'll do!” he muttered. “Well, my lad, what do you
want?”

“Life me up,” said the boy.

“Well, I reckon it'll be easier to both of us if you do set upon
your own haunches a little.”

And he stopped his horse, and gave the boy the necessary
assistance, which raised him upon the saddle, sitting with both
legs upon the same side of the horse, after the fashion of female
equestrians.

“Thar you are, my little kurnel; and, now, how do you
feel?”

“Feel?”

“Ay! that's what I axes. How do you feel? Hev' you
got any aches and pains in preticklar? A leetle sore about the
head, I reckon, and a leetle stiffish in the j'ints. You ain't
been a-riding jest as you've been used to ride, I reckon.”

“My head! my head!” murmured the boy.

“I reckon it's a leetle oneasy. It's an onnateral headache

you've got, cotch'd from a graze agin the buttened of a pistol.
You see, my leetle cocksparrow, if such young birds as you will
go into a skrimmage, it's but nateral you should catch some
sore throats and sore heads, and sore shins, and be sore for a
long spell a'ter it. But, you'll be better by to-morrow. A
leetle pine-gum plaister on that head of yourn will stop up the
sore places.”

The boy murmured:—

“Won't you let me down? I must go to mother.”

“No! no! Your mammy don't want to see you tell you gits
better; but I'll carry you to your daddy. He's a-waiting for
you now.”

The boy was silent — not so much because he was satisfied
with this assurance, but really in consequence of returning stupor.
But he still kept erect upon the saddle, the arm of his
captor circling him with its great muscles, and the horse pressing
forward now at a canter. Henry saw that he was going
through a pine-forest, with no great undergrowth, but his
senses were quite too much dulled for observation. When
the party approached the bay, Dick of Tophet said to his
companion:—

“You kin stop and see after the prisoner. I'll push down
toward the creek. We must keep the two sep'rate jest now.
When you hears my horn, bring your coon down to the creek
as well as you kin. You kin loose his legs and make him walk
it, at the p'int of the bagnet. He may need a stick or two, of
your knife, to make him sensible which road he's to take.”

Dick rode on half a mile farther, and was within a hundred
yards of the creek, when he heard a whistle which he answered.
Suddenly, a man emerged from the thicket.

“What's ripe?” demanded the trooper.

“Corn in mutton!” was the answer, in the deliberate tones
of Inglehardt.

“Gimini! You — your own self, cappin? Why, how did
you git off and git here so soon?”

A few words sufficed for answer.

“Who have you got here?”

“A prisoner! The young cub of the old wolf. Jest no
other pusson than Travis's son.”

“Ha! ha! father and son — eh? Well, they may bring the
daughter yet. Bring the boy down to the creek — put him at
once into the dugout, and take him across the river. Rope
him and leave him there. Bring back the boat as soon as possible.
It will take us three trips to get the party over.”

But Henry Travis, now on his legs, resisted the tender entreaties
of Dick of Tophet.

“Let me go. I'm no prisoner. Isn't that Captain Inglehardt?”

He had distinguished the voice of the latter, though he had
failed to discover more than the outline of his person. Inglehardt
walked away taking no notice of the speech.

“No matter who it is, my lark, as for being a prisoner, who
says you is? You're only a young gentleman on a visit to his
friends, whom they're a taking care of. That's the how: so
come along with me, and don't be giving us the trouble to pick
you up roughly to lay you straight.”

And he laid hands on the boy to haul him forward. But the
gallant lad jerked himself free, wheeled about, and having no
weapon but his fist, planted a blow in the breast of the other,
which was quite creditable, for aim as well as force, to so young
a bruiser.

“Ha! you're at that, air you,” answered the ruffian, returning
the blow as he spoke, and felling the poor boy as if under
the weight of a sledge-hammer.

“Don't hurt him, if you can help it,” said Inglehardt returning
for a moment. “But don't let him escape you.”

“That he won't; but the young cock's game. Ef ever he
lives to git his spurs he'll rash somebody's sides yit.”

Thus speaking, he lifted up the boy and carrying him without
seeming effort to the creek, laid him down in the bottom of
the dugout, which he at once pushed away from the shore.
Seizing upon one paddle, while the negro boy Julius plied the
other, he was not long in making his way to the main stream,
and still less time getting across. Here, having taken out his
captive, he corded his arms and feet securely, and left him, under
cover, upon the opposite banks. He then put back with all
speed for the creek, and arrived just at the moment when the
Trailer had brought down the four horses to the water.

“Why didn't you bring the prisoner, and leave the horses to
the last?” demanded Inglehardt.

“He's right, cappin. We've got the boy, and that's something
even if we lose the daddy. As for the horses, we kin
never do without them, wherever we go, and there's no telling
whar to git others, ef we lose these. We must put them over
at once.”

Two horses swimming beside the canoe, were all that the
boy Julius could manage. Two trips were required accordingly
for the transfer of the beasts to the opposite side. This
consumed no little time, and was not a little wearisome to our
Dick of Tophet, strong man as he was. When he recrossed a
third time to his superior, he found the loyalist captain not a
little anxious for his coming.

“You were long that trip, Dick, very long.”

“Yes, indeed, and ef I hev' much more of sich work to do
to-night, I'll git longer and longer, untell I snap right off in the
middle.”

“Don't talk of breaking down yet, my good fellow. That
will do when we are all quite safe on t'other side. The Trailer's
slow. What can keep him.”

“Well, I reckon he's pretty well wore out like myself, and I
spose old Travis won't do nothing for himself, and the Trailer 'll
hev' to prick him along with the small eend of a knife, as I
tell'd him. We hain't got much time to lose, that's mighty
sartin.”

Inglehardt strode up and down with a degree of impatience,
clearly expressed; which was a very unusual exhibition with
him. He had need to be anxious. By this time the signs and
sounds of pursuit were to be heard from above. A mile ahead,
the gleam of torches was to be seen, fitfully crossing through
the woods. The hunt was up. The hunters were approaching.
They could even hear the distant tread of the horse, and now
and then a shout from the distant troopers announced some
discovery.

Yet, the Trailer had not brought down his prisoner from the
bay. Inglehardt was impatient.

“They will be upon us before we can get him off. By heavens!
I hear dogs. Do you not? If there are dogs, we are lost.”

Devil Dick stooped to listen.

“I don't hear the dogs. I reckon they've got none. Ef
they hed they'd ha' been down upon us long before. They
never would have kept the straight track down through the
woods when we never come that way. No! I don't reckon
they've got dogs. But they're a coming on jist as fast as ef
they had. 'Twouldn't do to push up and see after the Trailer
now, for I see a light that kain't be fur from the bay, and thar's
no saying how many are a stalking softly in the darkness jest
between where them lights are a-scattered.”

“No! we must take no such risk. D—n the fellow, what
can he be about?”

“Aix him! He's a born fool for anything but scouting.
That he kin do prime. I wonder whar's his sense to waste
time upon a prisoner. He had only to slit his throat and make
tracks, ef so be the fellow was troublesome. And what's a
prisoner? It's one thing to bring him off, and so much the better;
but it's a more serious thing to bring one's self off, and
save one's bacon. Ef he don't come soon —”

“Hark! Hush! There is a dog, Dick.”

“It sounds a leetle like! Look you, cappin, we'd best take
the boat and push her out to the river, we kin lie off and listen,
and ef the Trailer comes down before the troopers, we kin take
him aboard jist as easy as if we staid here, and resk'd our own
necks. He'll find the way down to the mouth of the creek, for
he knows, if he's got as much sense as a groundmole, that we're
a hanging off and on.”

“There goes a horse down to the right.”

“Yis, and another right toward us. Them torches are this
side of the bay. Let's put out, captain. It's an easy rush down
to where we stands.”

“Yet I am unwilling to leave the fellow.”

“Never you mind him. Thar's no fear of the Trailer, ef so
be he'll only cast off the prisoner, or lay him out, with a sharp
tooth jest where he stands: us for us — look you, cappin, thar's
no time for shilly-shally. They're a coming, by all the pipers,
and with a rush. Look at all of them torches a coming together
and jest hear them horses.”

He seized Inglehardt by the wrist, and pulled him, still half

reluctant, down to the boat. They got in, and pushed her out
into the deepest part of the creek, which, by the way, just at
this point, was barely deep enough to float her, light and little
as she was. The paddles were dipped carefully, and the dugout
slipped forward without a murmur, her head down to the river.
When she reached the mouth of the creek, Inglehardt took
hold of the overhanging branches of a tree, and held fast. The
paddles were taken in — they waited and listened.

Still they could see the torches and occasionally hear the
tread of horses. It was now quite evident that the former
were flaring about not far from the spot where they had stood.

“We didn't put out a moment too soon, cappin.”

“No! They have completely surrounded the Trailer.”

“Ah! but he's a raal mole for finding a way out, and lying
close to the airth. I reckon they ain't found him. We'd ha'
hearn something of it if they hed.”

“Hist! Thar's a troop in motion.”

“It's guine down. But you see, thar's the lights still all
along the edges of the swamp. I reckon Sinclair divided,
and one hafe of his troop's pushing for the village, looking a'ter
us, and t'other's beating the bushes.”

“The torches are going upward. They're all together, as if
in consultation.”

“Ay, I reckon they've gin it up as a bad job. They ain't
found nothing to pay them for the ile of their joints that's
worked out to-night.”

“What! do you think the Trailer has escaped.”

“Sure as a gun! I reckon he's given Cappin Travis a touch
of cold steel and laid him out under the bushes, and he's taken
a stretch alongside of him for company sake.”

“You don't suppose he's murdered Travis?”

“Tain't murder in wartime, captain, and he's done it in self-defence.
Travis can't give tongue, and the Trailer won't, and
they lie snug together between some old logs. That's the how.
Ef they had found the Trailer, or the cappin, dead or alive,
wouldn't they hev' given tongue in a mighty hellabaloo? But
they hain't, and that makes me sure they hain't found either of
'em. I reckon, cappin, we might put the nose of the dug-out
up the creek again. By easy paddling, we can snake up, and

make no stir, to whar we was a standing before. Then, if we
hears nothing, and them torches are a gitting fainter and fainter,
I'll put out for the bay, and see if one old scout can scent the
track of another. Rafe knows my whistle, jist as he knows
one bird from another.

“Very good. Put about.”

And the dug-out was sent up the creek again, and found her
way to the former position without disturbing any unfriendly
echoes.

During all this while, Sinclair and his troopers, as we have
seen, had been busy brushing the forest. They had picked up
three prisoners, who readily submitted and joined the troop of
the conqueror. But the particular fugitives sought for had not
been found; and, leaving a body of his followers, chiefly under
the guidance of Jim Ballou, to scout while there was any hope
of discovery, the major of dragoons pushed forward with all
speed to Orangeburg.

After waiting some time on the movements of the scouting
party of Ballou, whose torches were still to be seen occasionally,
like so many flitting corpse candles through the distant woods,
Dick of Tophet said:—

I reckon, cappin, it'll be quite safe to take a peep at the bay
now and see what's 'come of the Trailer.”

“Ay, we'll go together, Dick.”

“Better don't you, cappin. Who knows what's a squatting
in them woods a waiting to see upon whose shoulders it may
jump. It's easier for one man to git cla'r of a spring than
two; and though two's better for fighting than one, yet in a
scouting affair like this, one's safest.”

“Safe or not, Dick, I'll take a look at the woods along with
you.”

“Well, come along: but you've got no we'pon! Hyar's a
pistol, one of mine. I've got the pair of that young catamount
of Travis in my buzzom, but they ain't loaded.”

“This will do. Push ahead.”

“Close and saftly now, cappin,” was the prompt answer, and
they both entered the woods.

They moved cautiously, and reached the precincts of the bay
without interruption. Then Devil Dick whistled —“Jist you

see,” as he said, “an insinivating whistle, as if to say, thar's a
little friendly bird a hopping about, and he tells you the hawks
are all gone.”

A very few moments only had elapsed when the signal was
answered, and in five minutes more the party in search encountered
the Trailer coming toward them.

“Lord, Rafe, how we hev' sweated for you.”

“I reckon I've done a pretty bit of sweating for myself, old
fellow, jist from thinking of the hug of the black bear that was
a looking a'ter me. More than once I thought I had his very
paws upon me. But a miss is good as a mile, and the sweat's
gone off with the danger. I was jist awaiting to be sure that
all was safe afore I ventured out to look a'ter you. I didn't
dare to risk the signal, 'till I had snaked all round and a'tween
the bay and the creek.”

“You have had a narrow chaince, Brunson.”

“Well — it's true — I hev' — but you see, cappin, ef a man has
the experience and the sense, and ain't scary, but kin jist lie
cool and wait his time, thar's hardly any chaince so narrow
that a small sizeable man kain't squeeze through. I would hev'
got to you long before the troopers worked down on the trail
hyar, if it 'twarn't for that derned troublesome prisoner that
you give me to bring along.”

“What have you done with him?” demanded Inglehardt
somewhat anxiously.

“Stowed him close away —”

“Hed to knife him, Rafe — eh?”

“You have not killed him, Brunson?”

“No, cappin — but I come mighty nigh to doing it. A leetle
more and and I had done it. As 'twas, I made out by giving
him a tickle of cold steel, now and then, in the throat and
sides.”

“Is he much hurt?”

“No, I reckon not — only a little sorish where I tickled him,
and from a hard jam which I had to give him under long timber,
with my weight screwed into his carcass.”

The Trailer was allowed to detail his adventures seriatim.
We shall condense his narrative to our limits.

Very much delayed as he had been in bringing down the

horses and providing for their transfer to the opposite side of
the river, the Trailer, when he returned to his prison, found the
distance between his position at the bay, and that of the scouting
party of Sinclair very much lessened. This required the
utmost decision, and the most prompt movement, in order to
effect his object. Besides, greatly fatigued as he had been by
his previous exertions, it demanded an extraordinary effort of
will and energy to bring himself to any farther tasks. But the
old scout and soldier is usually capable of these extraordinary
efforts, and the Trailer set about his labors with sufficient resolves
for his purpose. He untied the legs of Travis, and bade
him walk. But Travis showed himself reluctant to do anything
which could contribute to the prolongation of his captivity.
He beheld the torches of the hunters, and he heard the tramplings
of their horses. He divined their object, and readily
conjectured the whole history of Inglehardt's defeat at Holly-Dale,
very much as we have been able to report. He was slow,
therefore, to obey the requisitions of the Trailer, and with such
near promise of succor. But he felt too entirely at the mercy
of the fellow still, and knew too well how reckless of human
life were all such persons at such moments, and he forebore
open opposition, and aimed only to delay a progress which he
could not avowedly withstand. At first he concluded to try if
his custodian was corruptible. He offered him a liberal reward
in money, to be paid him as soon as he could get back to Holly-Dale.
Twenty guineas was a sum to dazzle the imagination of
the scout under ordinary conditions, and the sum promised was
increased to thirty. But the Trailer, not being a whit more
virtuous than his neighbors, yet acknowledged certain laws and
obligations. He was very much afraid, if the truth were known,
of Dick of Tophet, his companion, to whom he ascribed fearful
powers, and whose close neighborhood he was inclined to suspect.
He was also sensible that he should establish a large
claim upon Inglehardt by his fidelity in this very work in hand.
Besides, he was a believer in the British crown, and in the
potent sufficiency of the army of George the Third, to effect
the permanent conquest of the country. Whatever were the
considerations moving him to a virtuous resistance to the bribe
offered — and we confess our inability to say or to conjecture
precisely what they were — it is enough to know that he rejected
the tempting rewards offered by his captive — twenty,
thirty, forty, and finally, fifty guineas — larger amounts than he
had ever been possessed of, were thus rejected with the constancy
of patriot virtue. This, at least, was his own story to
Inglehardt. We are at liberty to believe it or not, as we please.
He may have lied in this particular, and his policy might be
simply to establish, in Inglehardt's mind, a true notion of the
value of his services, by a reference to the sum which the opposite
party was willing to pay for his escape.

Finding his bribes unavailing, and the troopers of Sinclair
rapidly approaching, Travis changed his tactics and doggedly
refused to walk.

“With that,” said the Trailer, “I out with my knife and put
it to his throat. `Now,' says I, `go, or I'll cut away! Says
he — `You may cut me to pieces but I'll not walk a step! That
riled me. At first I thought to pick him up, and take him off
bodily upon my shoulders. But, Lord, I was jest then hardly
able to carry myself, and felt a most like lying down and letting
the troopers do what they would with me. But I was riled,
and I tickled him about the chin and throat, and he seed I was
getting the hair up, and he took a few steps for'a'd. But then
he stopped short agin, and so I put the knife, I reckon half an
inch deep into his haunches. That sent him for'a'd a leetle
further, but jest then, hearing a shout, and seeing as how the
torches was a coming on pretty fast, he stopped again, and
swore he'd not go a peg further; and he threatened me with all
sorts of hangings, and burnings, and whippings, and what not, ef
I didn't wheel about and march with him into the inimy's camp;
and he then offered me his fifty guineas again, ef I'd do as he
wanted me. Jest then, I looked about me, and I seed the
torches coming down mighty fast, and I heard the horses' feet
heavy on the airth, and I seed that ef he kept me shilly-shally,
going a bit and stopping another, that he'd git off, and git me
into the halter besides, and so I seed that I had one way only
— and jest then he got preticklarly bold and sassy, and I got
more and more riled. I sweated like a bull in fly-time. So I
jest looked at him a moment, and says I `You won't go'— and
says he `No, I won't move a peg'— and jest as he said it, I

jumped on him full, and all spread out; and I brought him
down to the airth, jest alongside of this great pine and by the
old Harricane track, and, snake or no snake, I rolled him up,
close again the sides of the tree, with his face out, and I stretched
myself down alongside of him, face in, and I fixed my knife at
his throat, and I clapped my handkcher upon his mouth, and I
said to him, softly through my shet teeth, `Now, look you, ef
you don't lie close, and keep still, by the etarnal fires, I'll slash
your oozen [weasand] jest as quick as I would that of a fat
shote in December. And so I had him, the tree fastening him
along the back from head to heel, my knees agin him in front,
my body agin his body, my face to his face, my handkcher on
his mouth, and my knife agin his throat.”

“Grim! That was a sarcumvention! eh! cappin!” exclaimed
Dick of Tophet in admiration. Inglehardt said nothing,
and the Trailer proceeded.

“So I hed him pretty sure, and he felt it. And he lay quiet
enough, though the torches flared out a'most alongside — and
I jest let him feel the tickle of the knife p'int now and then,
to keep him sensible; but one time, one fellow jumped his
horse clean over the logs and his hind feet lighted down, I
reckon, not three feet above my head. Then I felt him twist
about and try to shake his mouth free from my handkcher, but I
put my knees into him, and I scraped his throat a leetle with the
knife, and he sung small like a child that smells the hickories
over the chimney-place. And thar he is — jest as quiet as
ever — only mighty sore about the keel and upper timbers, I
reckon, and with jest sech a taste of my knife, as will sarve his
palate for the next twenty years.

In a moment, Dick of Tophet was engaged in the agreeable
task of pulling out the captive from that durance vile, in which
he had been so judiciously tickled into silence. He was extricated,
quietly submitted, helped himself to rise, but said nothing.
His condition could not well be discerned, as the party
had no light.

“Can you walk, Captain Travis?” demanded Inglehardt.

“Yes!”

“Lead him along — to the boat.”

Sore, indeed, suffering pain of body and of mind, but stern

of soul, and in some degree triumphant of soul as he felt sure
of the escape of his family, of Rutledge and Sinclair — Travis
was resigned to his fate. He, at least, would yield no triumph
to his captor. He little dreamed of the pangs yet in reserve
for him; and moved forward, with a stern calmness of demeanor
to the creek between Devil Dick and the Trailer, though
every step was taken in pain, and his whole body seemed in a
very flame of fever.