THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
WILD WOEK; 
 
 THE STORY OF THE RED RIVER TRAGEDY. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY E. BRYAN, 
 
 AUTHOK OP " MAXCn." 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 D. APPLETON" AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1881. 
 
OOPTBIGHT BT 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 1881, 
 
TO 
 HON. ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS, 
 
 THE WISE STATESMAN, THE JUST COUNSELOR, 
 
 THE TRUE FRIEND OP HIS COUNTRY AND OP HUMANITY, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS REVERENTLY 
 
 602747 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/wildworkstoryofrOObrya 
 
A WOED BEFOEE.— BY TELE AUTHOR. 
 
 "The reign of the carpet-bagger "—a troublous, tran- 
 sition period— was rich in dramatic features. Abnormal 
 conditions of government and society brought out un- 
 wonted lights and shades of character and gave rise to 
 extraordinary incidents. 
 
 Particularly was this true of the States west of the 
 Mississippi, where comparative freedom from social re- 
 straints fostered individuality and independence of char- 
 acter—too often to a lawless extent. There the Ku-klux 
 proper, with its mask and mummery, was little known. 
 The protest against the " carpet-bag dynasty " was there 
 more boldly uttered. If at times it found expression in 
 the violence of a mob, at other times it wrought through 
 manoeuvres that showed a genius for state-craft, and, in 
 one instance at least, the results it brought about partook 
 of the character of a revolution. 
 
 The author of "Wild Work" has sought to reproduce 
 a few scenes of that time and region with an eye solely to 
 their dramatic aspect, not distorted by sectional prejudice 
 and not disturbed by political side-lights. 
 
yi A WORD BEFORE. 
 
 The incidents of tlie story are, however, not all photo- 
 graphed from life. Some of these have their outlines of 
 fact colored by imagination ; others are wholly fictitious. 
 The catastrophe in which the story culminates will be 
 recognized as one which has a place in the Nation's rec- 
 ords. There it forms the most tragic chapter in the history 
 of reconstruction. It has been called the "blackest blot 
 upon the South," and the blame of it has been saddled 
 upon the people of an entire section. But, notwithstand- 
 ing the researches of the Government's Investigating Com- 
 mittee, the true nature of the tragedy was never unveiled. 
 It remains a mystery. Accident had given the writer of 
 this story a glimpse behind the veil, and it is believed that 
 the theory of the character and cause of the tragedy which 
 is developed in "Wild Work" is the true one, though a 
 thread of romance is interwoven with the warp of fact. 
 
 "Wild Work," written while the scenes it reproduces 
 were fresh in the author's mind, was first published as a 
 serial in a literary paper— the " Sunny South." Two years 
 after its publication "A Fool's Errand" appeared, and 
 several newspaper reviewers of the book called attention to 
 the similarity of one of its incidents — "A Eace against 
 Time" — to an incident in "Wild Work." This resem- 
 blance was probably accidental, or it may be that the inci- 
 dent in each case was suggested by the same real occur- 
 rence, and that Judge Tourgee had heard of the Louisiana 
 girl— known to the writer of "Wild Work"— who saved 
 the life of a carpet-bag post commander by riding across a 
 wild country at night to warn him of his danger. Only 
 
A WORD BEFORE. vii 
 
 the Judge has seen fit to make the heroine of his spirited 
 "Race against Time" a Northern girl. 
 
 Once more insisting that "Wild Work" takes its view 
 of the carpet-bag era simply from a dramatic standpoint, 
 and through no distorting lens of sectional or party feeling 
 — out of place in a story — the book is left to find what 
 friends it may. 
 
WILD WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A KED sunset flamed over the great wall of woods that 
 stood against the horizon in the distance, seeming to guard 
 the acres of level, fertile fields that stretched from its foot 
 to the steep bank of the river. Half the stream was lighted 
 by the glow ; the other half lay in the lengthening shadow 
 of the deep bank. On the illuminated side, the bank ex- 
 hibited in one place a natural terrace, beneath which sloped 
 down a ''second bank "—a sand-bar projecting into the river, 
 sparsely fringed by willows and young cottonwood-trees. 
 To one of these was tied a large flat for ferrying people and 
 horses across the river, and through the trees that grew on 
 the upper bank could be seen the cabin of the negro ferry- 
 man. Up to this cabin there rode a party of three, two 
 young girls well mounted and tastefully habited, followed 
 by a gray-haired negro attendant, mounted on a mule that 
 seemed as ancient as himself. 
 
 Stopping in front of the cabin, the old negro uttered a 
 ''hello!" that was only answered by the echoes of the 
 opposite bank. 
 
 Again and again he called, but without response ; the 
 old ferryman was either soundly asleep or absent. Getting 
 
4 WILD WORK. 
 
 down from his mule, the old negro approached the cabin 
 to make investigations, while the two girls rode along the 
 path to the water's edge — the taller of the two, a lithe, 
 slender brunette, with a style in her moyements and closely- 
 fitting black habit that bespoke intercourse with fashion- 
 able society, checked her horse and took from her pocket 
 an envelope, the seal of which was already broken. As she 
 took out and unfolded the enclosure, her companion touched 
 the closely-written sheets with her riding- whip, saying : 
 
 *' You can't read that now. I imagine that to enjoy a 
 love-letter one must take it as the butterfly takes the blos- 
 som he likes — leisurely and daintily. You will have to 
 wait till we get home." 
 
 ^^ Yes ; and it seems that will never be. Why doesn't 
 Uncle Jake come on with the ferryman ? Yonder he is 
 now, and nobody with him. Uncle Jake, where is the 
 ferryman ? " 
 
 **Lord knows. Missy. He door done locked ; and I call 
 him till my throat most split, thouten gitten' any answer. 
 Spec' I'll have to try to put you over myself." 
 
 '^ That's a good enough idea; you can take us over, I 
 know, as well as any ferryman on the river. Let's hurry 
 and get in the flat. The sun has been down these ten 
 minutes," said the brunette, Zoe Vincent, springing from 
 the saddle, and stepping lightly with lifted skirts to the flat. 
 
 *^It's hurry for true Missy, case de Monsoon's comin' 
 round de bend. Dat's her puffin' and snortin' so ; and 
 she'll be around in no time. De Monsoon ain't a boat to 
 fool wid." 
 
 " Best wait till she goes past," said Adelle Holman, 
 who stood holding a beautiful mare by the bridle. But 
 Uncle Jake demurred. 
 
 '* It's powerful late, and I ain't had a mouthful since 
 brekfust, 'cept de cheese and crackers you give me. Miss 
 
WILD WOBK. 5 
 
 Dell. Dat Cohatchie's a mighty unneighborly place for to 
 spend de day in. A gentleman kin stand round dere all 
 day hongry, and not a soul'll ax him in to git a bite. We 
 might as well be gittin' over here ; I'll have to make two 
 trips, anyway. I can't carry over all three o' dem bosses 
 to onct ; I'll take yer over and de mare, and by dat time de 
 boat will be done gone by. Den I come arter old Sol and 
 de Gray." 
 
 While he talked, he was unfastening the flat; lifting 
 the chain, he threw it in with a resounding clang. Then 
 he led in Adelle's mare, and the girls stepped in and stood 
 in the rear of the flat, Adelle placing her arm around Zoe 
 to steady her city-raised friend, who was less accustomed 
 than herself to this mode of crossing water. 
 
 ''Now be spry, Uncle Jake," she said, and the old man 
 responded bravely ; but he met with a difficulty at the out- 
 set in pushing off, for the flat was aground, and it required 
 no little exertion and a loss of precious time to shove the 
 unwieldy bulk off into water that would float it. When 
 this was finally effected, the sound of the steamer's revolv- 
 ing wheels and the piff-paff of her escape-pipe sounded 
 alarmingly near. Old Jake's knotty hands trembled nerv- 
 ously as they grasped the oars and pulled for the opposite 
 shore. He did well enough until he struck the swift, 
 strong current of the river ; then, in spite of his desperate 
 efforts, the flat made little headway. The current grew 
 stronger every minute ; the old man strained to the oars 
 with all his might, but in vain. The flat was turned slow- 
 ly sideways by the stream and began to drift down, instead 
 of going across. Seeing the emergency, Adelle sprang to 
 a seat beside the old negro, seized one of the oars, and, with 
 an encouraging word to him, joined in his efforts to right 
 the flat. For a moment, it seemed as if they might be 
 successful, but the next instant the oar broke off short in 
 
6 WILD WORK. 
 
 the negro's hand ; he turned his black face in blank dis- 
 may upon Adelle. At the same instant, the signal lights 
 of the steamer came into sight, as the Monsoon rounded 
 the bend, and seemed to head directly for them. 
 
 ^' De Lord above ! We'll be runned over in three jumps 
 of a rabbit, and I can't swim a lick ! " cried old Jake, the 
 perspiration streaming down his ebony face. 
 
 Adelle dropped the oar, and turned a startled glance 
 upon the red and green signals. They seemed to glare 
 ominously, as there flashed into her mind the stories she 
 had heard of skiffs and flats being run over by the river 
 steamers, whose night watch were not always as careful as 
 they should be. 
 
 The sight had a paralyzing effect upon old Jake. Down 
 he fell in a heap in the flat and began to pray. Adelle 
 shook him by the shoulder. 
 
 '^ Get up,'* she said. '^ Take this handkerchief and 
 wave it, and shout to the boat as loud as you can for your 
 life." 
 
 Then, as he rose and did her bidding, she went back to 
 the rear of the flat, where stood Zoe, with a white face, and 
 the mare, with head erect and ears pricked forward, seem- 
 ing to comprehend the situation. 
 
 ''Zoe," she said, "if the boat doesnH stop, you must 
 get upon Fleta and make her jump into the river. She 
 will swim to shore, and, if you will only hold on tightly, 
 she will carry you safe." 
 
 '* And what are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Swim, if I can ; I used to swim a little. Here, I think 
 you will have to try Fleta, the boat does not seem to see 
 us," she continued, with her strained gaze fixed on the 
 lighted monster bearing down straight in their direction 
 as they drifted helplessly in the middle of the stream. No 
 one was to be seen on deck, it being the hour for the early 
 
WILD WORK. -7 
 
 supper of Western steamers, nor were there any signs that 
 the white signal had been seen, or that any one had heard 
 Jake's Yociferous shouts of '^ Stop ; stop ; help ; stop yer 
 boat dere. You'se ^bout to run over white folks. Hold 
 up, you dere 1 " 
 
 Then dropping his voice to a hoarse mutter, '^ Lordy 
 messy ! Eder she won't hold up, or she can't. Here she 
 comes right down upon us, and yonder dem niggers in der 
 cabins at old Mr. Pyle's place, a eatin' der supper, and let- 
 tin' us be drownded before der eyes." 
 
 " Come," said Adelle, calm in spite of her white lips. 
 '^ Come, Zoe, and let me help you upon Fleta." 
 
 But at that instant her arm was grasped by Uncle 
 Jake in a sudden paroxysm of joy. 
 
 ^^ Bless de Lord ; we'se saved ! " he exclaimed ; *' Look, 
 missy ! " He pointed to a skiff rapidly nearing the flat 
 from the side of the river they had lately left. Sinewy 
 arms propelled it with a will, and in a moment it was 
 alongside them. The tall, active oarsman seized the chain 
 of the flat, and cried out to those on board : 
 
 ^^ Jump in the boat ; push the horse into the river, old 
 man ; she will swim ashore. " 
 
 His voice inspired confidence ; he was obeyed at once, 
 and, pushing off from the flat, with a few long strokes of 
 the oar he sent the skiff out of mid-stream and presently 
 out of danger of the boat, that now bore down upon the 
 flat, crushing it under and sinking it, while the mare, 
 swimming gallantly, neared the farther shore. Under shel- 
 ter of the opposite bank, the two girls, huddled in the skiff 
 that tossed on the agitated water, looked on with blanched 
 faces, and shuddered at their near escape from death. Zoe 
 hid her face in her hands ; Adelle drew a deep breath, and 
 turned to the stranger, who had so opportunely come to 
 the rescue. 
 
8 WILD WORK 
 
 " We have been saved from death, I think, thanks to 
 you, sir," she said, holding out her hand and looking for 
 the first time into his face. What was there in that face to 
 make her start and draw back her hand ? He saw the 
 movement, and smiled — a cynical smile, that had yet a 
 touch of proud patience in it. 
 
 *'Yes, thanks to de Lamb and to you. Mars Witchell, 
 we'se 'scaped bein' squshed and drownded to death by dat 
 very boat snortin so unconsarnedly down de river. You 
 was sent here by de Lord for to help poor niggers ; and 
 you're doin your work." 
 
 "Never mind that. Here's the bank ; get out old man, 
 and take your horses to the next crossing." 
 
 "Next crossin's a mile above here ; 'twill be awful late 
 for de ladies to be a ridin' ; and how's dey goin' to ride, 
 I'd like to know ? Miss Dell's mare done swim out on 
 t'other side, and gone home like lightnin'. Won't dey all 
 be wild, do, when dey see her comin' all wet, and wid no- 
 body on her back ? Gray, here, won't tote double no how, 
 and old Sol won't let woman folks tech him, much less git 
 on his back." 
 
 "My own horse yonder is not safe for a lady to ride," 
 Captain Witchell said, pointing to a fine-looking animal, 
 standing loose where he had leaped from him on riding 
 down the bank and seeing the danger to those in the flat. 
 "Where are you going, old man ?" 
 
 "To Mr. Vincent's place — Miss Zoe's brother." 
 
 "Take the horses on to the crossing. I will row these 
 ladies home in the skiff." 
 
 " Don't put yourself to that trouble, sir, " interposed 
 Adelle, icily, "we can manage some way with the horses, or 
 we can walk home, if you will hand the oar to Jake and let 
 him put us on the other side of the river." 
 
 " Miss Dell, ain't you shamed of yourself, talkin' to Cap- 
 
WILD WORK. 9 
 
 tain Witchell like dat, and lie just done save you from bein' 
 drownded to death ! De Captain's not gwine to hurt you. 
 You better let him take you in de skiff ; de massey knows 
 when you gwine to git home, onless ; and your pa'll be dis- 
 tracted about you." 
 
 But Adelle had risen, and was preparing to leave the 
 boat. 
 
 ^^Sit down, if you please," commanded Captain Wit- 
 chell. ^' I shall take you home. It is already dusk. ''To 
 cross at the upper ferry would throw you late in the night. 
 You need not look at or speak to me, and I shall have no- 
 thing to say to you. I shall land you safely at home ; then 
 my duty will be done." 
 
 As he spoke he pushed the boat, from which the negro 
 had just stepped, away from the bank, and began to pull 
 steadily and swiftly down stream, after a word to Jake to 
 tell him to fasten his horse where the animal stood. 
 
 The trip was accomplished almost in silence. The girls 
 sat together in the back part of the boat, their eyes fixed 
 with a kind of fascination upon the straight, soldierly figure 
 that wielded the oars, his profile sometimes turned partly 
 to them, showing the bold outlines of throat and chin, the 
 firm nose, the close-set mouth, with the slightly scornful 
 lines about it, the thick light hair thrown back from the 
 well-poised head. 
 
 A full moon had risen over the dark rampart of woods 
 that bounded the distant prospect, and long streams of sil- 
 ver light glorified the murky river and eclipsed the linger- 
 ing rosiness of sunset. Adelle's lovely face looked pale 
 under her dark riding hat, and changes of expression 
 passed over her sensitive mouth and eyes, which still kept, 
 however, the look of haughty reserve that had come over 
 them at first sight of Captain Witchell's face. 
 
 Zoe had her rich cheek buried in her ungloved hand. 
 
10 WILD WORK. 
 
 that had a diamond flashing on the betrothal finger. She 
 had turned her dark eyes wonderingly from her friend to 
 Captain Witchell when Adelle had so coldly declined any 
 further service from the man who had just rescued them ; 
 but a whispered sentence served to make her understand. 
 She nodded her head acquiescingly, and remained silent, 
 save for a murmured word to her companion, about the 
 beauty of the night or her fears that the family would be 
 alarmed on their account. 
 
 A turn in the river brought the Vincent plantation into 
 close proximity. A little, whitewashed country store came 
 first of the buildings. It was perched near the shelving 
 bank, while behind it stood the stable, the corn crib, and 
 *'lot." Before the gate of this last, forms were seen mov- 
 ing about confusedly, and the sound of excited voices 
 reached the ears of those in the boat as they neared the 
 landing. The mare Fleta, dripping from her bath in the 
 river, had a few moments before stopped in front of the 
 stable, and Hugh Vincent was excited with apprehensions 
 concerning the fate of his sister and her friend. As he 
 caught sight 'of the boat he hurried to the bank, followed 
 by the negroes who had been grouped around the trembling 
 mare. 
 
 As the skiff grated upon the sand. Captain "Witchell 
 leaped out and held the chain to steady the little craft, 
 while the girls got out. He offered them no other assist- 
 ance, and he merely bowed when Zoe, stopping near him, 
 could not forbear saying : 
 
 "I am very sorry to have put you to all this trouble. 
 I thank you very much for the assistance you have ren- 
 dered us." 
 
 Adelle's foot slipped as she stepped from the skiff ; she 
 would have fallen had not Captain WitchelFs arm caugHt 
 her and placed her firmly on the ground. Confusedly, she 
 
WILD WORK. 11 
 
 murmured her thanks. He inclined his head slightly in 
 acknowledgment, leaped into the boat, and pushed off, as 
 Mr. Vincent came down the bank, saying as he met the 
 girls : 
 
 '* I am glad, I tell you, to see you two back safe. Fleta 
 came up a while ago with the saddle and bridle on, wet as 
 a fish, and frightened me mightily. Lucky I saw you 
 before the alarm was carried to the house, to scare your 
 father. Cousin Dell, and my wife and Miss Floyd all for 
 nothing. What has happened ? " 
 
 *^ We came near being run over by the Monsoon, as we 
 were crossing at Watt's Ferry," explained Zoe. *'Anoar 
 broke in Uncle Jake's hand, and he couldn't manage the 
 flat. The boat was close upon us, when a man came to our 
 assistance with a skiff, just in time to get us off before the 
 steamer went rushing over the flat. The mare had jumped 
 out and swum ashore ; the other horses we had left behind 
 on the bank. Uncle Jake has gone to cross them at the 
 upper ferry, and the man brought us home in the skiff." 
 
 "Did you ask him in to rest, and take supper with us ? 
 You didn't ? Well, it was as little as you could have done 
 after his risk and trouble on your account. Is that your 
 city politeness ? " 
 
 " Cousin Hugh," interposed Adelle, "the man was Cap- 
 tain Witchell. We did not think he would be welcome." 
 
 " Witchell, the deuce ! That carpet-bag scoundrel ? I 
 had rather you owed a favor to the blackest nigger about 
 than to one of that set of thieves — jackals, that come here 
 to fatten on the carcass of our dead liberties. I wonder 
 you accepted an obligation from him, Zoe." 
 
 " Would you have had us drown, brother ? Besides, we 
 didn't know the man until after he had rescued us. I had 
 never seen him, and Dell was too much frightened to rec- 
 oofnize him at first." 
 
12 WILD WORK. 
 
 " Well, I suppose it could not be helped. Old Jake was 
 the one to blame. It's like his thick head, trying to cross 
 at dusk with a boat comin' round the bend ; letting you 
 two get under obligations to such a d 1 beg par- 
 don, Dell — such a rascal as Witchell. I'll row him up 
 about it when he comes. Of course, he thinks it was all 
 right. It was Mars Witchell — the god of every darky 
 about here. I suppose he is on his way down here to 
 organize a loyal league among the darkies and the scala- 
 wags. I hear they are to meet at the nigger church on 
 the old Burns place to-night. A dark assembly it'U be, 
 in every sense of the word ; only two or three white skins 
 among them, and they ashamed of their color, and apolo- 
 gizing for it with all their might. I can't see why Witchell 
 is hugging the new voting power just now. He can't want 
 more office after Just being appointed District Judge by the 
 Governor, without the formality of an election ; but he is 
 a shrewd, far-sighted scamp, and he means to fly his kite 
 high, I imagine." 
 
 They had reached the yard gate — set in a low paling 
 that was overrun with trumpet vines. The house was an 
 unpicturesque, whitey-brown cottage, neglected - looking, 
 like most of the buildings of that rich, alluvial section, 
 where cotton-raising absorbs the energies and the money of 
 the planters. But the yard was covered with velvety grass, 
 and under a great walnut-tree swung a hammock, from 
 which floated a mass of white drapery. The occupant who 
 lazily swayed therein was singing the " Mocking Bird " to 
 a guitar accompaniment, while several children stood around 
 her listening. The music stopped ; the musician turned 
 around in her hammock. 
 
 "Truants!" cried a voice like a flute, ''come here 
 and give an account of yourselves. Why are you so 
 late?" 
 
WILD WORK. 13 
 
 *' Oh ! Floyd, we have had an adventure ! " Zoe said, as 
 they approached the tree. 
 
 ^^An adventure! what — in going to and from such a 
 stupid little village as Cohatchie ? Did old Gray stumble, 
 and some shirt-sleeved knight of the plow pick you up out 
 of the mud, or did the mishap take place in the street, and 
 was it some hero of the yard-stick or the sugar-scales that 
 came to the rescue ? " 
 
 *' Nonsense, Floyd !" 
 
 ^^By the way, I've been presiding over the scales and 
 the yard-stick myself to-day, helping your brother in his 
 store. He has had a run of custom of all colors — darkies 
 from the plantations and swarthy Creoles from the swamps, 
 and I've been weighing candy and measuring red ribbons 
 as if to the counter born. Mr. Vincent declared I was a 
 charming saleswoman." 
 
 She did not add that the young farmer and store-keeper 
 had supplemented the compliment by the present of a pret- 
 ty dress-pattern, now reposing in her trunk. Floyd Eeese 
 always took the goods the gods sent, without scruple or in- 
 judicious parade. The organ of secretiveness was fully de- 
 veloped in her handsome head. 
 
 '^But about your adventure — what was it ?" she asked. 
 
 And Zoe recounted the story of their escape, with more 
 of picturesque detail than she had used in relating it to 
 her brother. Evidently it was interesting to her listener. 
 Floyd raised herself from her lazy, reclining posture in the 
 hammock and leaned forward, looking into Zoe's eyes. 
 
 "Why in the world did you not ask him to come in ?" 
 she cried. 
 
 "Did you not understand, Miss Eeese, that it was Cap- 
 tain Witchell, the Radical leader ? " Adelle asked, her face 
 full of scornful wonder. 
 
 " Judge Witchell, you mean, and may be future Governor 
 
14 WILD WORK. 
 
 of the State," said Floyd, nodding lier graceful head em- 
 phatically. 
 
 " Through unjust measures and an ignorant negro vote, 
 then," cried Adelle, indignantly. ^*What honor is there 
 in office so gained ? " 
 
 *' He is fast getting what is better than honors or office 
 — aplenty of money — the stepping-stone to everything else. 
 Widow Ellis and Mrs. Delaney have had to turn their plan- 
 tations over to him to manage, because they could not get 
 hands, or control them when they were got. He is coining 
 money out of the lands they had lying waste. Then the 
 appropriation he got from the State for cleaning out Lake 
 Wisteneau — that was a grand speculation." 
 
 "A grand swindling scheme," flashed Adelle ; *^tliirty 
 thousand dollars for clearing out a few harmless snags. To 
 pass guch a bill was an outrage." 
 
 Floyd laughed musically. 
 
 "No matter; they did pass the bill, and the Captain 
 has pocketed the money. Success makes right in this 
 w^orld, my dear. A man who carries things before him 
 like this one, deserves consideration. Throw up your hat 
 for the powers that be ; there goes mine in the Captain's 
 honor ! " 
 
 She caught up from her lap her gypsy leghorn, stuck 
 full of purple flowers by the children, and tossed it up by 
 its ribbon string. Then she jumped from the hammock 
 with a quick movement that showed a shapely, slippered 
 foot, and sent a mass of warm brown hair tumbling about 
 her shoulders. 
 
 Even in the half light the charm of this woman could 
 be seen. The carmine glow in her cheeks and the gold 
 glints in her hair were not visible, but the outlines of a 
 most seductive shape — at once full and flexible, sumptuous 
 and sinuous — made apparent that charm of form so potent, 
 
WILD WOEK. 15 
 
 especially in the eyes of men wlio are no longer very youth- 
 ful. 
 
 ^^ You were short-sighted not to have turned your ad- 
 venture to good account/' she said, shaking back her curls 
 and looking at Adelle. 
 
 "If I thought you were in earnest, Floyd Reese !" 
 
 *^Am I not, though? It was a rare opportunity, and 
 you should have remembered your copy-book counsel, and 
 ' improved your opportunity ' in this instance ; I would, if 
 I had been in your place." 
 
 Holding the guitar with one arm, she put the other 
 around Adelle's waist and stood laughing. 
 
 The younger girl shrank slightly from the embrace — a 
 movement that did not escape the quick discernment of the 
 other. 
 
 " Pardon," she said, with a sudden change of manner. 
 **0f course, my talk is to be taken with the classic grain of 
 salt ; yet, if I should be tempted by a full purse and a bold 
 arm, it might not be so bad for me — a moneyless waif, with 
 none to help me fight my battles with the world. With 
 you it is different; you have the shelter of home and 
 love." 
 
 Her voice had lost its light ring, and was rich and sweet, 
 seemingly charged with more emotion than was expressed. 
 Her eyes were cast down ; one would not have thought they 
 had noted the approach of Hugh Vincent ; but there was 
 little that escaped the keen vision and wonderful intuition 
 of Floyd Reese. 
 
 Adelle was touched into forgetfulness of the distrust 
 that had made her shrink, and Zoe said, reproachfully : 
 
 * * How can you be so unkind to your friends as to call 
 yourself friendless, Floyd ? " 
 
 The stoutly built, rather coarsely handsome brother of 
 Zoe suffered his eyes to dwell for a moment on the tableau, 
 
16 WILD WORK. 
 
 whose central figure was Floyd, with downcast lashes and 
 picturesquely falling hair. Then he said : 
 
 " Is it too romantic out here in the moonlight; to speak 
 of supper, young ladies ? It is waiting, my good wife says ; 
 and no doubt. Cousin Dell, you and Zoe are very hungry 
 after your ride and your rescue. By the way, I would not 
 mention that last to your father, Dell. It would worry him 
 uselessly, for I have sufi&ciently accounted for your staying 
 late. He is so bitter against carpet-baggers." 
 
 "Against this man, especially. Do you not know. 
 Cousin Hugh, that once, when he was Provost Marshal, he 
 had my father arrested, humiliated before him, and fined for 
 striking an insolent negro. Think of it — my father ! " 
 
 She said "my father" as proudly as though the plain. 
 Mossy Valley farmer had been some potentate of the land. ; 
 and truly, if he had been, she could not have rendered him 
 * more loving homage. Besides being a kind father he had 
 a commanding way that became him well at the head of his 
 regiment in Confederate days, and still made him looked up 
 to with deference by his household and his neighbors. 
 
 His fine presence gave quite an imposing look to Mrs. 
 Vincent's neat tea-table, as the party from the yard entered 
 the supper room. Adelle went up to him and kissed him, 
 as was her habit whenever she had been away from him for 
 a day or a night. Then he bent his iron-gray head with a 
 fine grace to her companion, " Cousin Zoe," as he called her, 
 though the tie of blood between him and his host was not 
 very close — just enough to warrant tlie Colonel's stopping 
 here a few days with his daughter on their return from 
 New Orleans. 
 
 His notice of the girl who came in behind the others 
 had in it something more to be remarked. His eye kin- 
 dled with admiration as Floyd Keese took her seat at the 
 table just opposite. Why was it ? Miss Reese had not the 
 
WILD WORK, IT 
 
 delicate, regular features of Zoe, nor the sweet, womanly 
 loYeliness of Adelle. But she had that picturesque, dramat- 
 ic charm that excites curiosity and appeals to the imagina- 
 tion. It was seen in her moyements, her postures, her 
 looks, even her dress — not arranged with the orderly neat- 
 ness of the two other girls, but having a negligent grace of its 
 own ; from the full sleeves falling back to show the round 
 arm, to the muslin folds caught low with a rose under the 
 large white throat. The charm of the lawless and unfet- 
 tered hung about her in spite of the air of queenly self- 
 assurance which served to keep down any utterance of 
 distrust from those who might secretly regard her with 
 suspicion. 
 
 One of these, it was apparent, was the plump, sun- 
 browned little wife of Vincent, who poured out coffee at 
 the head of the well-supplied table. Her pleasant hostess's 
 smile gave way to a half frown as Floyd came in talking 
 with Vincent and smiling in his face. Miss Eeese had the 
 faculty of looking at every man in a way to convey to him 
 a secret impression that she was especially interested in 
 him ; and this, curiously enough, without being suspected 
 by other men who might be present, each of whom was 
 apt to believe that he alone was the object of the lady's in- 
 terest. 
 
 Something of this flattery was even in the glance and 
 nod she gave to a common-looking man, who came in 
 presently and took a seat at the table — a carpenter hired by 
 Mr. Vincent to work on his cotton-press, and just back 
 from the town, where he had been to get a tool mended. 
 
 After the. democratic fashion of the South, he was asked 
 to eat at the table with the family. He was from the same 
 neighborhood as Colonel Holman, and, as he stuck his fork 
 into a ruddy slice of boiled ham, he said : 
 
 *^ Colonel, I saw your son Derrick in Cohatchie this 
 
18 WILD WORK. 
 
 evenin'. He crossed over on this side, too, at the upper 
 ferry — not half an hour before I did." 
 
 " You saw my son Derrick in town to-day ? I can't 
 imagine what brings him down here." 
 
 "I think I have an inkling what he's up to," returned 
 the other with a knowing wink. '* Derrick wasn't by him- 
 self. Half a dozen or so of the Mossy Valley boys were 
 with him, and I heard it hinted they were going to have 
 some fun to-night. Did you know, Colonel, that another 
 of your folks was down here — no other than Captain Wit- 
 chell ? There's to be a big nigger meeting at the old Bums 
 place, and the Captain comes down to organize a Loyal 
 League. The boys, so I heard, were bound to interrupt 
 the grand pow-wow and give it a scare, if no more. I hope 
 they won't get hurt, nor into any difficulty." 
 
 Adelle saw her father's face cloud anxiously, but, 
 straightening himself in his seat, the old man said stoutly : 
 
 ** I should regret it, Mr. Davis ; but if they should get 
 into a difficulty — if blood was spilled — even my own son's 
 blood, sir, I should not grieve, if it might be the means of 
 rousing our people from their cowardly submissiveness. 
 Forbearance in their case has long ceased to be a virtue. If 
 they are down in the dust, need they grovel under the foot 
 that crushes them ? Here we are reduced to the most 
 humiliating slavery that ever outraged a people — taxed be- 
 yond all justice, swindled on every hand, our political 
 rights taken from us, our private business interfered with 
 and disorganized by meddlers that set our ignorant African 
 laborers against and above us ; and we submit to it without 
 so much as a protest ! Better be dead at once ! " 
 
 "That's true, sir,' assented the carpenter, rather grati- 
 fied at the excitement he had caused ; *'but you, up in your 
 parish, are better off in that respect than we are. From 
 accounts, Captain Witchell must be the best of our carpet- 
 
WILD WORK. 19 
 
 bag masters ; more just in administering affairs, and knows 
 how to do a generous thing sometimes." 
 
 ** Yes, sir ; he knows how to lavish with one hand what 
 he has robbed with the other when it is policy to do so. 
 He is courting popularity with the ignorant whites ; why, 
 I don't know, since he seems to get all he wants, and no 
 thanks to them. He gets to be judge without a vote 
 being cast. But he will not be allowed to hold court, sir ; 
 never ! " 
 
 The old gentleman's eye flashed : he pushed his cup of 
 coffee from him, half full, and rose from the table. His 
 daughter followed him, and as he stalked up and down the 
 gallery she tucked her little hand under his arm and walk- 
 ed with him, trying to mollify his mood by her pleasant 
 talk. But, with all her affectionate prattle, she did not suc- 
 ceed so well as the syren who came out jDresently and sat 
 down where the moonlight fell over her and her picturesque 
 white drapery. 
 
 '' Sing ' Nelly ' for us. Miss Floyd," cried one of her two 
 little pupils, lugging up the inevitable guitar. 
 
 ^^ Oh dear ! " she said, but she sang notwithstanding 
 — old-fasliioned songs, sweet in themselves and sweeter by 
 association ; gay little trills at first, and then songs of love 
 and parting. 
 
 "I'll play this old drawl for you, especially, Zoe," she 
 said. *' Waft a sigh southward while I sing that venerable 
 lover's lament, 'Days of Absence.'" 
 
 Zoe merely smiled ; it was not worth while to blush at 
 allusions to her engagement ; she heard them so often ; and, 
 besides, her attachment to her young lawyer-lover was not 
 of the sort that effects blushes, being quiet and dispassion- 
 ate as it was sincere. She had no girlish shjmess at hearing 
 their marriage discussed. She had looked forward to it so 
 seriously that she seemed already Royal West's wife, as in- 
 
20 WILD WORK. 
 
 deed she would have been had not her mother's recent death 
 postponed their marriage. 
 
 Soon afterward her home in New Orleans was broken 
 up ; her father went to Cuba to establish a business, and 
 she came to live with her married brother at his river-side 
 farm. 
 
 ^^Now sing something to suit Cousin Dell," the chil- 
 dren cried when the dolorous ^^ drawl" was finished. 
 
 **Yes, I will," Floyd said. *^ Lines to her who will 
 understand them ; " and she sang **Norah's Vow." 
 
 " Hear what Highland Norah said, 
 * The Earlie's son I will not wed, 
 Though all the race of nature die, 
 And none be left save he and I.' 
 
 But Korah's vow is lost and won, 
 She's wedded to the Earlie's son." 
 
 **now is that applicable to Adelle, Miss Eeese ?" Colo- 
 nel Holman asked, stopping beside the singer. 
 
 "It is prophetic," she laughed, unmindful of the 
 haughty look Adelle threw at her upon this allusion to 
 their conversation this evening, and to an adventure, a 
 knowledge of which she knew would destroy all her father's 
 hardly regained good humor. 
 
 She quitted the group on the gallery and went into a 
 room that opened upon it — Mrs. Vincent's room — where 
 the little mother sat rocking her fretful baby to sleep with 
 a weary look on her face. Adelle took the baby and soon 
 succeeded, through her gift in soothiiig, in getting it to 
 sleep. As she sat, with the little head against her bosom, 
 a sweeter picture than Raphael's Madonna, she said : 
 
 *^ Cousin Monde, who is Miss Eeese ?" 
 
 "Ah ! who is she, indeed ?" returned the little matron, 
 suddenly animated. *'I would like to have that question 
 
WILD WORK. 21 
 
 answered to my own satisfaction. I never saw her before 
 Hugh brought her down two months ago, to teach May 
 and Eob ; though I had heard bits of her history — her his- 
 tory, mind, according to herself, which may be true as gos- 
 pel for aught I know. She suddenly appeared in the neigh- 
 borhood above Cohatchie, one day last fall ; went to see 
 Judge Clark, who is a well-to-do, kind-hearted old gentle- 
 man, and made the Masonic sign of distress, and then told 
 him her story — how she had crossed the river from the 
 Texas side in the night — a stormy night, too — that she was 
 followed and pursued as far as the river by her guardian, 
 who was a very bad man, and wanted to get all her property 
 for his own use. With this object, he had pretended that 
 she was crazy, and shut her up somewhere. When she 
 made her escape, he followed her. He had thought, so she 
 hoped, that she had been drowned while trying to cross the 
 river in the darkness and storm. It was her intention to 
 stay in this State until she was twenty-one, and then return 
 to Texas and prosecute her guardian, and recover her prop- 
 erty. As she must earn her support till then, she begged 
 Judge Clark to help her. He did ; he enlisted the Masons 
 and church members in her behalf, and obtained for her 
 a school. But somehow she was dissatisfied ; the school 
 taxed her too much : she saw my husband and told him 
 how greatly she would prefer to teach a few children in a 
 private family ; and he offered her a place with us. I trust 
 he may never regret it. " 
 
 ^' Is she not a good teacher ? " 
 
 "Yes, she does well enough in that way, I suppose, 
 though it's easy to see she is not used to teaching, and she 
 is no disciplinarian ; at one time romping with the children 
 like another child, then cold and moody and cross. But it's 
 not that I object to so much. She has managed to make 
 herself first in the house — her wishes and opinions to be 
 
22 TfTZT) WOr.A^. 
 
 considered first by servants, children, and even Hugh. No 
 woman likes to be made of second importance in her own 
 house." 
 
 *'No; I should think not." 
 
 "Married women have cares and troubles enough, if 
 they do their duty faithfully. They ought, at least, to be 
 a sort of queen in their own little home — that's my idea ; 
 but you don't always see it so ; far from it, sometimes. Mar- 
 ried life is not the honey-sweet cup that girls are apt to 
 think it. But there ! I've no business putting a bitter 
 taste for it in your mouth beforehand, and you to try it 
 yourself so soon, cousin." 
 
 "I? who told you so?" 
 
 ** Your father and I were talking about you to-day — in 
 here by ourselves — and he told me you were engaged, or as 
 good as engaged, to Eichard Lanier — your near neighbor. 
 I used to know the family well." 
 
 " Papa told you that ? " said Adelle. 
 
 She had turned pale, and she rose hurriedly and laid the 
 baby in his little crib. She tucked the soft white covering 
 around him to gain time, before she faced Mrs. Vincent and 
 said : 
 
 " Cousin Monde, don't speak of that again — to me or 
 any one, please. There is nothing settled, and I don't 
 think—" 
 
 ** Why, your father seemed so pleased." 
 
 " Yes, I know. Richard's land joins ours ; he is Der- 
 rick's friend — a brave, hot-headed fellow, but — I don't 
 think I will ever marry ; I like my girl-life too well to 
 change it." She walked to the open window, and stood 
 there, wondering why the mention of Richard Lanier jarred 
 on her so. The picture of him that rose before her — the 
 slim, swarthy face ; the small, keen eyes, so watchful of 
 her — was absolutely repugnant. 
 
WILD WORK 23 
 
 ^^I believe I am tired," she said, wearily; "I will say 
 good-niglit, and go to bed. Zoe lias already gone up stairs." 
 
 Zoe was re-reading the letter she had got from the Co- 
 liatchie post-office that day. 
 
 " Would you like to see how he looks, Dell ? " she asked, 
 holding up a small card-picture that had come with the 
 letter. 
 
 It was a refined face that Adelle held to catch the lamp- 
 light. It was a good face, too. The mouth was gentle, the 
 eyes had a frank breadth between them and a steady, truth- 
 ful look. Adelle liked the face, and said so. 
 
 '^ You think it the perfection of manly beauty, of course, 
 Zoe," she said, playfully touching the girl's cheek, as she 
 handed back the picture. 
 
 **No, I do not. I don't think it is manly enough. I 
 like a strong, masterful face, even if it is a bit rugged. 
 Dell, there is no harm in just admiring a face, and I own 
 I like Captain Witchell's — just the face, mind you." 
 
 "Don't speak of him. Oh ! how sorry I am that we 
 got under any obligation to him." 
 
 "I don't think he will presume upon it — after the way 
 we received it, Dell. You were very cold.'* 
 
 "He must have thought me dreadfully mean and un- 
 grateful," the girl said, with a sudden rush of color to her 
 forehead. "But it does not matter what he thinks," she 
 added quickly, undoing her hair, and letting its dark waves 
 drop down upon her shoulders, saying, as she threaded its 
 mass with her fingers, " I wish our land could be rid of 
 these aliens. I am afraid they will cause us terrible trouble 
 yet. I shall not sleep for thinking of Derrick to-night, 
 and fearing he will commit some rash act that will cost 
 him his life." 
 
 She knew that Lanier was with her brother, but she did 
 not speak of this. 
 
2i WILD WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OxE who had only seen Floyd Reese in the presence of 
 others, her face carefully guarded in its expression, would 
 hardly have recognized her when she sat alone, as to-night, 
 her brow bent, her mouth drooping, her eyes full of gloomy 
 thought. 
 
 *^No use to dwell upon that now," she said, rousing 
 herself at 1 ength. Then standing up, and clinching one 
 of her hands, *^But I must make a bold stroke somehow. 
 I won't vegetate here any longer ; I can't stand it. Besides, 
 there's a storm brewing. Monsieur is growing sentimental ; 
 and Madame cross as a cat. Why will men always fall in 
 love with me ? " 
 
 Her eyes fell upon the looking-glass over the mantel. 
 
 *^If they could see me now," she thought, with a little 
 bitter laugh that yet broke up the hard lines about her 
 mouth, and brought the color into her cheeks. Still look- 
 ing at herself, she thought, "How strange that my eyes 
 can be bright, my cheeks red, after what I have gone 
 through ! I hope they will stay so and tell no tales, for I 
 must call up all my assurance and strike out somewhere. 
 I was born to rule. I feel the will and the power struggling 
 within me, and yet here I am, ruling two disgusting brats, 
 and perhaps their commonplace father, whose devoted re- 
 gards can never serve me any further than to keep me in 
 bread and clothes until his jealous wife objects. I must 
 fly for higher game. If I could attach myself to this bold 
 hawk that is preying to such good purpose on my chicken- 
 hearted states-peojDle ! Captain Witchell, if I could win 
 your confidence, share your schemes, help you to outwit 
 men, and rise with you to power and riches, it would be all 
 my ambition would crave. It would fill my heart, too — 
 
WILD WORK 25 
 
 better tlian love can fill it. Love ! Faugh ! I have done 
 with love, or I ought to have done with it. It has been 
 my bane : if I touch it again, it will be to make it my slave 
 — a stepping-stone to power of some kind." 
 
 Still with her eyes on the glass, she smiled slowly. 
 
 " How my eyes shine just now ! " she thought. *^Is it 
 prophetic of some lucky fortune ? This is one of my beauty- 
 moments. I am only pretty by flashes." 
 
 A sudden barking of dogs outside, followed by the sound 
 of horses in a canter, caused her to start from her seat and 
 approach the window. Coming along the road that ran 
 just outside the fence were three or four mounted men, 
 plainly to be seen in the moonlight. They slackened their 
 pace as they came near the house ; a window was thrown 
 open, and the voice of Vincent was heard calling out, but 
 in suppressed tones, as though afraid of waking others : 
 
 ** Derrick Holman, are you there ? Open the gate and 
 ride in here for a moment." 
 
 The foremost rider wheeled his horse, unlatched the gate, 
 and rode into the yard and up to the window alongside 
 the tall myrtle bush, whose polished leaves glistened in the 
 moonlight. Holding out his hand, he said : 
 
 ^^ How are you. Cousin Vincent ? Father is here, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 '^ Yes, he stopped o2 the boat to recruit a little. He 
 had a sharp attack of cholera-morbus coming up, and it left 
 him too weak to bear jolting across the country to Malta 
 over your rough hill-roads. He heard to-night of your be- 
 ing here, and on what errand, and was very anxious about it. 
 He sent a man — Davies — you may know him, as he comes 
 from your neighborhood — with a message to you. Did you 
 see Davies ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and sent back word to the old man that he 
 needn't have alarmed himself." 
 
26 TF/Zi> WORK. 
 
 " Was anything done ? " 
 
 " No," laughed the other — a forced, self-mocking laugh. 
 '' The adventure was a farce from beginning to end. In 
 the first place, Witchell rode down here by himself, instead 
 of with the nigger body-guard or the posse of white scala- 
 wags that we expected he would take with him. -We were 
 out in the woods, two or three miles from Malta, on the 
 watch out for him when he passed, and we saw it wouldn't 
 do. 'Twould have been fun to scare the lot, but we couldn't 
 fall on one man riding peaceably along — though he was a 
 rascally carpet-bagger. We rode on after him, thinking to 
 break up the meeting anyhow. We thought to get some of 
 the boys at Cohatchie to join us, but they fought shy when 
 we hinted our business. I believe you folks down this way 
 think every Yankee usurper — Witchell especially — is a kind 
 of fate or providence that it's no use kicking against. Well, 
 we came on ourselves ; crossed over and went 'round by the 
 swampy road back of the fields to the place of meeting. 
 There, again, we found things not as we had counted on. 
 Instead of closed doors and a nigger guard, the door was 
 open and we were invited to come in and take seats. We 
 marched into the aisle and stood there listening to what 
 Witchell was saying. He was making a speech ; he turned 
 and looked at us — he knew me, for I'd been in his way a 
 time or two before, and I was at the head of the fellows 
 who warned him, after he made himself judge, that he 
 needn't try to hold court. But he made no sign, and kept 
 on with his speech. It was for the negro, of course, but in 
 a kind of general way. There was nothing in it to give a 
 handle to get after him. The house was pretty full — ^black, 
 with a sprinkling of white oflice-hankerers, and among 
 them that arch rogue Yent, that's hectoring over every- 
 thing down here, as he tried to do with us. He was sitting 
 there, pompous as a king among his nigger worshipers. 
 
WILD WORK. 27 
 
 My hands itched to get hold of him, but I saw there was no 
 chance for that. There were enough of them there to gob- 
 ble up our little handful. I thought best to get out of the 
 den at once, but Lanier, who had been drinking pretty 
 freely, gave the lie to something Witchell said. Witchell 
 turned and flashed his eyes at us. *If you interfere here,' 
 he said, low (we were standing close to him), I will order 
 your arrest. You had best go before there is trouble.' La- 
 nier struck out at him with his knife ; Witchell caught his 
 wrist and held it. ' Let him loose ! ' I cried out, and laid 
 my hand on my pistol. Witchell said nothing, but that 
 coward bully Yent bellowed out : ^ Pitch into 'em, drive 
 'em out boys ; ' and the niggers came tumbling over the 
 benches like a black hurricane. We stood a fair chance of 
 being torn to pieces. Witchell ordered them back, and, 
 when they wouldn't mind, he drew a revolver, cocked it, 
 and held it out, declaring that he would shoot the first one 
 that tried to pass him. You ought to have seen Yent fall 
 back. I said to the boys, ^ This is no place for white men ; 
 let's go ' ; and we went." 
 
 ** So Witchell really kept down a disturbance ; saved 
 your lives, perhaps ? " 
 
 '* Ko thanks to any good feeling on his part. He does 
 anything for policy. He looks ahead. He has more of the 
 fox than the woK in him. I hear he is coming to cast his 
 lot here with you on the river ; I don't congratulate you. 
 He'll make his jack out of you, you'll find to your sorrow." 
 
 " Won't you come in and stay all night, and see your 
 father and sister ? " 
 
 "No, I thank you. We are going to cross to-night. 
 The boys swear the game isn't done yet. Witchell is to 
 have a nigger guard to-morrow ; it will be good sport to 
 give them a run and scare, perhaps something else. Sis, is 
 that you standing there on the piazza, looking like a ghost 
 
28 WILD WORK. 
 
 in the moonshine ? Come and kiss me. Don't you begin 
 to scold. If you had been at home, I would have been 
 there too. Why did you stay away so long ? You might 
 have known I'd get demoralized." 
 
 He said the last words, bending down to kiss his sister, 
 his arm about her neck as she stood beside his horse. She 
 had stepped down from the piazza and stood with her white 
 dressing-gown wrapped around her and her dark hair loose 
 on her shoulders. 
 
 "I was too uneasy to sleep," she said; ^'1 heard your 
 voice, and crept down stairs to see you and know that you 
 were safe. Father was anxious ; he walked about the room 
 a long time after he retired, but I believe he is asleep now. 
 Will you come in and see him ? " 
 
 ** No ; I have no time ; they are waiting for me ; La- 
 nier is among them ; he has seen you, and is riding in." 
 
 ** Then I will go ; I do not want to see him. Good- 
 bye," Adelle said hastily. 
 
 " No," her brother answered, catching her hands. *^ You 
 must not go now. He will think you are running away 
 from him, and be mad with you. You know how quick he 
 is. Besides, he is a little — excited to-night. " 
 
 ** He has been drinking — that is nothing very unusual," 
 said Adelle in disgust. The slender young man rode up to 
 her side and greeted her with eager tenderness, grasping in 
 a tight, nervous clasp the hand she reluctantly extended. 
 
 "You are well," he said, bending down and fastening 
 his black, burning eyes on her fair face, in its frame of 
 loose, soft hair. ** You are enjoying your visit. We heard 
 of you ; Derrick, did you tell her what we heard to-night ? " 
 
 *^ No ; I never thought of it. Besides, I did not believe 
 it. Adelle, a negro told us that you came across the river 
 in a skifE with Witchell. It was not so, of course." 
 
 "Yes, it was ! " the girl said, faltering and feeling her 
 
WILD WORK. 29 
 
 cheeks flame. " It was an accident. The flat we were in 
 was run over and sunk by the Monsoon. He came up in 
 the skiff just in time to rescue us." 
 
 *^ I had almost rather you had drowned," muttered her 
 brother, with an oath." 
 
 '' Oh, Derrick ! " 
 
 ^^No, I don't mean that. Buir it was unfortunate. 
 Howeyer, you need not recognize him afterward. You 
 thanked him, and that was an end of it. Yes, I am com- 
 ing this moment," he said, in answer to an impatient call 
 from his comrades on the other side of the fence. " Good- 
 bye, Sis ; I will send the carriage for you and father to-mor- 
 row. Come, Lanier ! " 
 
 Adelle's dark lover snatched her hand and carried it to 
 his hot lips. The kiss seemed to burn there long after he 
 rode away, and the small cavalcade had disappeared up the 
 moonlit road that followed the river's windings. She pulled 
 a catalpa leaf, wet with dew, and rubbed the place on her 
 hand where his lips, feverish vrith liquor and the passion of 
 his fiery heart, had pressed the kiss. 
 
 " Somehow, I shrink from him more than ever," she 
 thought, in some distress. *^He is leading Derrick into all 
 this. Oh ! how I wish I had begged them not to do any- 
 thing to Captain Witchell to-morrow. I meant to have 
 done it. He might not interfere as he did to-night. That 
 ivas magnanimous, let them say of him what they will. 
 But then, as Derrick says, it was done through policy. Of 
 course, a gi-asping, unscrupulous man like him can have 
 no real nobleness of character." 
 
 Yet still, to her own vexation, the thought of him, the 
 image of his proud face, and the half -sneering, half melan- 
 choly smile that curved his lips when she shrank from him, 
 recurred to her as she lay watchful beside her sleeping 
 friend. 
 
30 TTYZZ> WORK. 
 
 Another was wakeful with thoughts of Captain Witchell 
 and of the conyersation she had overheard between Der- 
 rick Holman and his cousin. Floyd made a resolye be- 
 fore she slept ; and, with her, to plan impulsively and to 
 execute boldly were characteristic. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Early next morning Floyd Reese came out of the 
 house and took her way to the stable. Leading out Fleta, 
 she took down bridle and saddle from the pegs where they 
 hung and put them on the mare. Fleta was hers — her only 
 possession. The mare's fleet limbs had saved her once in a 
 desperate race for life, with a mob following like famished 
 wolves behind. Floyd would not part with her, she said, 
 as long as she could help it. A good price had been offered 
 for her, but Floyd refused it. ^^I^ot till I need bread ; 
 even then I will hesitate, and starve a little first, so long as 
 the grass will keep her from famishing. " 
 
 Vincent had the use of the mare now for her keep, 
 but she was seldom ridden by any but Floyd, and her sleek 
 coat and bright eye testified to greater care than is usual in 
 Western stables. Floyd caressed her pretty neck a moment 
 before she mounted to a seat in the saddle. She rode away 
 just as the master of the house came out upon the piazza. 
 Seeing her, he called to her and came eagerly toward her, 
 but she only nodded her plumed head to him and waved 
 her hand as she cantered swiftly up the road. She had no 
 idea of being hindered in her purpose this morning by lis- 
 tening to the flattering speeches of a man whose admiration 
 could foe of no use to her — no help in getting her out of 
 
WILD WORK 31 
 
 the dull routine of life wliich lier restless, ambitious soul 
 hated. 
 
 Briskly she rode through the broad fields bordering on 
 the river, the murky stream rolling between its steep banks 
 on one side, the long rows of flourishing corn or cotton 
 upon the other ; fields all the way, with dividing fences, 
 whose big gates she had learned to open. Looking back, 
 she saw galloping toward her a lank negro astride a dimin- 
 utive white mule. 
 
 " He probably went to the meeting last night, and can 
 tell what I want to know," thought Floyd, and purposely 
 drojoped her riding-whip. 
 
 *'Pick it up for me, please," she said to the negro, who 
 tumbled down, delighted to serve a handsome and stylish 
 lady. As he handed it to her, she further pleased him by 
 a smile and a gracious ^* Thank you." 
 
 " You are out early this morning ; you are not just now 
 coming from the Loyal League meeting, are you ? " 
 
 ''No, ma'am." 
 
 '' Was it a good meeting ?" 
 
 The negro hesitated, and looked at her doubtfully. Any 
 allusion by a white Southerner to the negro's newly-ac- 
 quired political relations disturbed the latter's equanimity, 
 and made him draw into his shell of suspicion. But Eloyd's 
 smile was irresistible, and suspicion was disarmed. 
 
 "It was a mighty fine meetin', ma'am. Captain Wit- 
 chell and Mr. Yent spoke beautiful." 
 
 "I am glad of it. We heard that a foolish attempt to 
 break up the meeting was going to be made. I hope Cap- 
 tain Witchell will not go back alone. It would be unsafe." 
 
 "He oughtn't to, ma'am, that's a fac', and some of our 
 people made up to guard him, but he sent word he didn't 
 need it, and wouldn't 'cept it no how." 
 
 "And so he has gone ?" 
 
32 WILD WORK. 
 
 "Not yit. He's goin' to cross up hese at Tenk's 
 landin'. De flat's outer fix at Mr. Brown's, where he 
 stayed las' night." 
 
 **He stayed at Mr. Brown's, the store-keej^er's, last 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes ma'ani, he did that. Mr. Brown writ a note and 
 specially axed him. Mr. Brown knows which side his 
 bread's buttered on. He's goin' to make fair wedder wid 
 de Cap'n, and all de white uns better do the same. Cap'n 
 Witchell mout help dem, same as he do w^e, and he's mighty 
 good at helpin'." 
 
 " Mighty good at helping himself," Floyd thought, as, 
 having gained all the information she wanted, she began 
 to hum a tune and cut with her whip at the young corn 
 blades, while the negro lifted his battered hat, said ' Good- 
 morning,' and rode on ahead. 
 
 Half an hour more brought Floyd to the crossing 
 spoken of, and, riding down into the strip of woods that 
 here fringed the river, she dismounted, tied her mare to a 
 limb, and, leaning against an old ash-tree near the path that 
 led to the river, she waited for Caj)tain Witchell to appear. 
 
 The birds twittered in the young leaves overhead, the 
 yellow butterflies drifted over the blossomed herbs and dewy 
 berry-vines at her feet, the river flowed below with a cool 
 gurgle, but Floyd's thoughts were not in tune with these. 
 They were confused and unquiet. The purpose she had in 
 view seemed more and more absurd in her eyes, more des- 
 perate and unlikely to result in anything but failure. Still 
 there was a chance of success. " Nothing risk, nothing 
 get," Floyd said to herself. " He must remember me with 
 some sort of interest. He can hardly have forgotten my 
 face — ghastly as it was with terror, and covered with dust 
 from that awful race. Those wretches must have told him 
 everything, but he may not have believed them ; he may 
 
WILD WORK. 33 
 
 have credited* my story and pitied me. He was so good 
 afterward. It is natural to think kindly of one we have 
 helped, more than of one who has helped us ; and, if I can 
 rekindle his interest and keep it alive, something may come 
 of it." 
 
 While such thoughts coursed through her brain, she 
 heard the sound of horse's hoofs on the upper bank. 
 
 *'It is he ; and, thank fate, alone," she said, looking up. 
 Leading his horse by the bridle. Captain Witchell was 
 descending the path to the flat. His head was bent in 
 thought ; he did not see her until she made a step forward. 
 He stopped ; a surprised look came into his face. Then he 
 lifted his hat courteously, and was passing on, when she 
 detained him by a gesture. 
 
 '^ Captain Witchell," she said, her hand held out, her 
 eyes full of eager light. He bowed and took her hand, but 
 his look was still puzzled and unrecognizing. 
 
 ** You do not know me. You have forgotten me." Her 
 voice had a pained thrill, and the light died in her eyes. 
 
 **I know you now. Eemember, we only met once. I 
 hope you have had no ill fortune since that night." 
 
 '' When I was so sorely beset, and you saved me ? No ; 
 my enemies have not found me out. They really thought 
 me drowned. Thanks to you. I have not forgotten you. 
 I have thought of you daily, hourly. But for you, I might 
 now be in the cell of a mad-house, or in my grave, more 
 likely ; for that man — my guardian — has no conscience." 
 
 A curious look passed over Captain Witchell's face. 
 Floyd's quick eye caught the incredulous, half -sneering ex- 
 pression, and her hopes sank. The Texans had told him, 
 then, she thought, and he believed their story and not hers. 
 
 "I did you a service at no cost to myself," he said; 
 "you owe me no thanks." 
 
 *' Thanks are poor payment for what you did for me. 
 
34 WILD WORK. 
 
 If I could only do something to prove my gi-»titudc. If I 
 were a man, I would give you my life-service ; I would fol- 
 low your fortunes, watch out for the dangers you despise, 
 the enemies you are too busy to guard against. You need 
 such a friend. " 
 
 '•Do you think so?" 
 
 '^I know it. I know what you aim at. I know what 
 your ambition would compass ; and I know the difficulties, 
 the dangers in the way. You have a strong will, and cir- 
 cumstances give you a power outside your own strength ; 
 but other circumstances are working against you — growing 
 stronger every day. The people have been paralyzed, but 
 they are recovering ; opposition is waking up ; hatred is 
 growing active ; the people are getting furious at seeing the 
 negro used as a tool to keep them down, and at seeing all 
 the money and privileges of the country going into the 
 hands of men that are not of them — men like you. They 
 hold themselves imposed upon, over-taxed, s^vindled ; and 
 they will not endure it long — not here, at least, in this 
 section of the country, where law has never pressed hard, 
 and restraints of any kind have been few. Already there 
 have been secret meetings — " 
 
 "At which you were the chief spokesman ?" Witchell 
 asked, with quiet sarcasm. "Judging from the speech you 
 have just made, you might have been the leading spirit — 
 the exponent of the people's rights." 
 
 " No, I have no leaning that way. I am not patriotic. 
 I believe that might makes right. I would do as you are 
 doing, if I had the power. I would make the most of my 
 opportunities — take all I could get — knowing that money 
 brings power. I have spoken of the opposition against 
 you because I don't think you feel it enough ; you don't 
 see the difficulties you must meet. You think you have 
 everything in your own hands ; your mind is full of your 
 
WILD WOEK 35 
 
 own schemes ; -"you do not see what pitfalls are being dug 
 in your path. You think too little of personal danger. 
 For instance, you are going to travel alone to-day, and 
 there is a party of men following you to do you harm." 
 
 '^Harm! what! that handful of harum-scarum boys, 
 who don't know what they want ? I have no fear they 
 will do anything — ^not the least. Is it only to tell about 
 them you have stopped me ?" 
 
 **No, there may be nothing to fear from them, as you 
 say, but such demonstrations are forerunners of something 
 more serious. They betoken the opposition that is gather- 
 ing — that may cut short your career before you get the 
 fortune and the power you aim at. You have need to 
 be watchful, and to have devoted friends ; and you stand 
 alone." 
 
 "You mistake ; I have friends." 
 
 "You have a few men whom you have yourself put in 
 office and made all they are. They will look out for them- 
 selves, serve themselves, and you, perhaps, as long as they 
 can make it pay well — no longer. Larger pay on the other 
 side would make them desert and betray you. You need 
 one about you devoted to your interests, heart and soul, 
 capable of sympathizing in your plans, of encouraging, of 
 inspiring them ; of being watchful and argus-eyed in your 
 behalf, looking out for possible small dangers and plots and 
 treacheries, while you are busy with your schemes." 
 
 He looked at her with keen, curious inquiry. She was 
 beautiful, with that heightened color, that lifted eye, stand- 
 ing under the old oak-tree with the shadows and sifted sun- 
 beams quivering over her. The audacity of the venture 
 she was making gave her an eager, vivid grace. 
 
 "It is hardly possible to find a man so devoted," he an- 
 swered, at last. 
 
 "But a woman ! Only a woman can be so unselfishly 
 
36 WILD WORK. 
 
 devoted to a man, can so watcli over his interests, enter 
 into his plans, scent danger with woman's keen instinct, 
 and help guard against it with woman's tact and finesse." 
 
 " Where will you find such a woman ? '* he asked, curi- 
 osity conquering his impatience to be gone. 
 
 '^I could be such a one — to you ! " she said, softly. Her 
 voice faltered, blushes dyed her face, for womanly shame 
 was not dead in her, and the hand she laid on his arm, the 
 look she raised to him, was in deprecation as well as appeal. 
 
 He, too, reddened with embarrassment and surprise, 
 perhaps with passing gratification, for the woman was beau- 
 tiful, and her words and looks were full of intoxicating 
 flattery. 
 
 *' What can you mean ?" he half stammered. 
 
 " That I am as ambitious as you are — that I too have a 
 genius for ruling men and daring fortune by bold measures 
 — only, unfortunately, I am a woman. I can act only 
 through some man. I understand your aims ; I appreciate 
 your powers ; I see tlie dijBQculties in your way ; I would 
 help you, if I might ; I would devote myself to that pur- 
 pose ; I would be eye, and ear, and hand to you." 
 
 Her earnestness confused him. He tried to put her 
 offer in the light of a jest. 
 
 '^ The days of page and squire are over," he said. *^ You 
 don't mean to make me out a knight, and put on male 
 clothes, and ride by my side as my armor-bearer ? " 
 
 " That would be infinitely better than dragging out the 
 days in woman's drudgery — sewing seams, teaching brats 
 to spell," she said, bitterly. ''No, I don't care for the 
 male clothes. I would not need to lay aside my woman's 
 dress and nature to be all I have said to you — devoted friend, 
 helper — " ; if wife was the word she tried to speak, it died 
 on her lips. He was silent, and she went on hurriedly, 
 dropping her eyes under his searching look. 
 
WILD WORK. 37 
 
 ''You don't know what I am, or anything of my past ; 
 that matters little. It is unfair to judge any human being 
 by their past. As to what I am, I will prove that. Try me." 
 
 ''You make a strange request," he said, at last. "To 
 be what you ask would require that you should be near me 
 all the time, and I have no home for you. And, if I had, 
 it would not look right for you to be there." 
 
 " Look right ? I thought you disregarded looks. I 
 thought you defied these people." 
 
 "You thought wrongly. I want to conciliate them, 
 and gain their confidence and esteem. I want them to feel 
 that I am one of them — that I have their interests at heart, 
 as I have." 
 
 ' ' Very likely, " she retorted, stung by his coldness. ' ' All 
 tyrants and extortionists have expressed the same exalted 
 sentiments, from Napoleon down — " 
 
 " To myself. Quite a descending scale. So be it. If 
 you have done, I will say good-by. That old darky yon- 
 der has smoked his pipe out, sitting in the flat waiting for 
 me. I thank you for the interest you have expressed in 
 my welfare, but I think I can manage to steer my own boat. 
 If it goes to pieces, nobody will suffer but me. Stay ; here 
 is something of yours I ought to restore. I picked this up 
 on the river-bank, where you dropped it, I think, that 
 evening. I forgot to speak of it in our hurried interview 
 afterward. Indeed, I was not sure it was yours. I had 
 not looked at it then.''^ 
 
 If he had been in doubt as to whether the letter was 
 hers, he could be so no longer. A sight of her face was 
 enough. It turned ghastly in an instant. She stretched 
 out her hand mechanically for the bit of crumpled paper ; 
 her fingers closed convulsively over it. 
 
 "You said you had not read it then!'' she gasped. 
 "You did read it afterward ?" 
 
38 WILD WORK 
 
 " I did, but no one else saw it ; no one else knows or 
 shall know from me. Good morning ! " 
 
 " One moment ! " she cried, in a stifled yoice. '* Let me 
 explain ; let me — " 
 
 '' No," was the cold answer, accompanied by an impa- 
 tient wave of the hand. **No explanation from you is 
 needed. I have lost too much time already." He tight- 
 ened the reins he had been holding. *' Come, Zep," he said 
 to his horse, that had been chafing the bit and pawing the 
 ground for tlie last five minutes. 
 
 The woman made a quick step toward him, a malignant, 
 snaky gleam springing into her eyes. 
 
 "You prefer to believe the lies against me," she cried. 
 *'I understand now why you refused my friendship. But 
 you shall repent this ; I swear you shall. You think I 
 have no power ; you will find your mistake. You think I 
 can not injure you ; you will find that my hand shall stir 
 up a storm that shall sweep you from this country or into 
 your grave. " 
 
 ** So this is woman's gratitude," he ejaculated. Turn- 
 ing round with a coolly sardonic smile he walked away, 
 leading his horse. 
 
 But a strange, uneasy feeling (prophetic, though he 
 knew it not) shivered through him, as he caught the bale- 
 ful look in her eyes — the look full of the rage and hate of a 
 woman who finds that she is known at her worst ; who 
 feels she has humbled herself uselessly ; that her game has 
 been seen through and despised as more contemptible even 
 than it was, for there might have been some real honesty in 
 that offer of devoted service to Captain Witchell. The 
 woman had a thirst for power and a passionate admiration 
 for any who had won it. She had a restless desire to be or 
 do something out of the commonplace, and she was shrewd 
 and daring. Moreover, she had a grateful remembrance of 
 
WILD WORJC 39 
 
 what Captain Witcliell had done for her. He might have 
 found such a woman a vahiable ally. He would have hesi- 
 tated before he turned her into an enemy, had his been a 
 nature to take cognizance of minor causes and influences. 
 But, preoccupied with big schemes, he lost sight of smaller 
 policies. He had but little hypocrisy in his nature, and 
 but little softness or flexibilit}^ Having heard her story 
 from the Texans who had pursued her to the river's brink, 
 and having had the story confirmed by that picked-up let- 
 ter, and her looks at receiving it, he thought of this beauti- 
 ful woman as a sort of human leopard. He shook her from 
 him as such, and went on his way, thinking he had done 
 with her for ever, foreseeing not that, with more of the 
 wolf than the leopard's nature, she would track him with 
 her revenge. It was not only because he had met her 
 overtures with scorn that she hated him, but because he 
 knew her secret — he alone. To all others, the woman 
 Mabel Waters was dead. " He might not have believed 
 what he heard, had he not seen the note," she thought. 
 ^' Why did I not destroy it ? Because it was poor Morris's 
 last words, I must thrust it in my bosom instead of tearing 
 it to pieces." 
 
 She crushed it in her hand as she spoke. Then she 
 opened her fingers and looked down at the bit of soiled 
 paper, with the blurred penciled lines upon it. Her mood 
 changed, a shadow of remorseful agony swept over her face, 
 and she sank down at the foot of the tree, and pressed her 
 hand, still holding the crushed letter, over her face. 
 
 If Captain Witchell had seen her then, he might have 
 softened to her in some degree, he might have felt some of 
 that pity which had made him ready to help her that August 
 day eight months ago, when, preparing to ford the shrunken 
 river, he had heard the gallop of a horse behind him, and 
 turning saw a woman, wild-eyed and dust-stained, urging 
 
40 WILD WORE, 
 
 toward him a horse covered with foam, and panting as if 
 its sides would burst. 
 
 '^I am pursued," she gasped ; **men are following me 
 to take me, imprison me, kill me. They are close behind, 
 and my horse can go no longer. Help me, hide me, for the 
 love of God!" 
 
 He sent a hurried glance around. All about were broad 
 fields, not a house, not a tree nearer than the swamp that 
 stretched back of the fields — nearly a mile away. Yes, 
 there, just across the river, were the woods — a belt of thick 
 growth — and, farther back, the cabin of a negro. 
 
 " Your only chance is to cross the river," he said. "It 
 is low — can be forded here, but the water is deep in places ; 
 you must seek the shallowest. I will go first ; it may swim 
 your horse, as she's not tall. Come — " 
 
 But, looking down at the panting, trembling mare, he 
 saw this would not do. 
 
 *^ She can never carry you over," he said ; "she will not 
 hold out." 
 
 " Then let me drown ; it will be better than to be taken. 
 My God ! I hear them coming. They shall not take me. 
 I will drown myself in the river." 
 
 Distractedly she tried to urge the horse down the bank. 
 
 "Stop!" he cried, springing to the ground. "You 
 shall ride my horse. He knows the ford, and will take you 
 over safely. Now go at once." 
 
 He had put her in the saddle while he was speaking. 
 
 " Off with you, Zep ! " he cried to the horse. The tall, 
 strong animal took the water with long strides, while the 
 mare, stooping her head, drank as if famished with thirst. 
 As Captain Witchell ran back up the bank, the sound of 
 approaching horses reached his ear. Far down the lane 
 leading up from the woods he saw four men coming at a 
 slack gallop, as if their horses were badly blown. A glance 
 
WILD WORK. 41 
 
 across the river sliowed him the woman safely landed on 
 tlie opposite bank, and making for the coyert of the woods. 
 In the same glance he saw, to his surprise, that the mare 
 had followed her mistress, and was nearly half way across. 
 Already the water was running over her back. 
 
 '^She will have to swim, and the current will be too 
 strong for her," he thought. 
 
 The next moment the men had caught sight of him. 
 They rode up, and the foremost one cried : 
 
 " Have you seen a woman on horseback pass this way ?" 
 
 A thought seized him. 
 
 '^ Yes," he said, and waved his hand carelessly toward 
 the river. All eyes turned in that direction. There was 
 the mare struggling gallantly with the current. 
 
 ''But there's nobody on her," cried the man. 
 
 " Nobody ? There was a woman just now." 
 
 *'The current swept her off, and she's drowned, then. 
 There's nothing to be seen of her. " 
 
 The eyes of the group were strained for a breathless in- 
 terval upon the river ; then the first sj)eaker looked round 
 on the others. 
 
 ''She's drowned, boys, for a fact," he said. "There's 
 an end of her ; and he loosed his feet from the stirrup and 
 seated himself more at ease. 
 
 "No harm done," muttered another. "She's cheated 
 a rope, that's all. It's a better end than she deserved." 
 
 "Why?" asked Witchell. 
 
 "Why? Because she's been the death of as good a 
 man as ever a woman fooled — her own husband, too. Yes, 
 Waters was a good fellow, paid his debts, lived honest, a 
 splendid shot, and free-handed as could be — too free-handed 
 for his own good ; it kept him poor. He wasn't as young 
 as a wife might like, nor as neat-looking, maybe, but he just 
 loved the ground that woman walked on. He took her up 
 
/2 WILD WORK. 
 
 out of the dirt, married her when slie was a slip of a girl, 
 and sent her to school and made a lady of her. 
 
 "A rich fellow, Morris by name, from Louisiana here, 
 had refugeed to our jmrts durin' the war, and Waters, who'd 
 known him where he came from, give him house-room and 
 pasture, and let him have provisions. When the fight was 
 over, he kept a sayin' he war goin' back to his own farm on 
 the Bayou Teche or his property in New Orleans, but he kept 
 puttin' it oif, and bimeby we found out why. He was waitin' 
 to take Waters's wife with him, and they made up to put the 
 husband out of the way. The overseer was hired to do the 
 job. Morris got Waters to go out huntin' one day, and the 
 overseer shot him, and he and Morris buried him. It was 
 found out, and the overseer got away, and Morris dodged 
 us for three days. We caught him at last, as he was sayin' 
 good-by to his lady at night, not far from her house. He 
 had hung around to see her agin, and it cost him his life. 
 He danced a jig with no floor under his feet next mornin'. 
 He made his will beforehand, and left her all he had. Then, 
 when he was about to be hung, he begged leave to write a 
 note and send it by a woman that was cryin' and takin' on 
 over him. He was jes' the kind o' chap that women are 
 soft upon. We told him to go ahead, and down he sat on a 
 log with the rope round his neck, and writ the note and 
 gave it to the woman, whisperin' something in her ear. We 
 all thought afterward that it was Waters's wife he sent it to, 
 and that he wrote her word to get away as fast as she could, 
 as he had heard us swearin' vengeance on her ; for when his 
 job was done, and we went for her, she had gone — run of! 
 on Morris's fast little mare. We gave chase, and would er 
 got her, ef that ther accident hadn't happened." 
 
 '^It's well enough as it is," said another of the men, 
 laying his leg comfortably over the saddle-bow, and refresh- 
 ing himself with a chew of tobacco. ''I'd hate mortally 
 
WILD WORK. 43 
 
 to slip a noose round a woman's neck, deservin' of it as she 
 might be." 
 
 " How do you know that she deserved it ? Are you sure 
 she knew they were going to murder her husband ? " asked 
 Captain Witchell. 
 
 ' ' Didn't she meet Morris in the woods after her husband 
 was killed ? There was evidence, too, in plenty to show 
 she'd put 'em up to it, though Morris swore to the last she 
 was innocent as the babe unborn, and took all the blame on 
 himself. That counts for nothin'. He was so mad over 
 her, he'd done anything to clear her skirts." 
 
 **Come, boys," said another, "the game's over; let's 
 get down and cheer up, and rest our horses a spell before 
 we turn back." 
 
 They got down ; the horses began to crop the grass ; the 
 men drew out a ** tickler" and *' cheered up" all around, 
 proffering the cheer to the stranger, who declined it, left 
 them, and crossing the river in a "dug-out," at a point 
 lower down, made his way to the cabin at the ford, being a 
 little apprehensive about his horse and curious to know 
 what had become of the woman. He found his horse 
 quietly grazing in the little yard, and in the rear of the 
 house, hid by a clump of young trees, he found the woman 
 he had heard called Mabel Waters. She had been feeding 
 the mare whose speed had saved her life, and was standing 
 with an arm about the animal's neck, and her head drooped 
 upon it. When she looked up, he saw her black eyes were 
 swimming in tears. 
 
 " You are safe," he said. " They have gone back. They 
 saw your horse swimming over without a rider, and thought 
 you were drowned." 
 
 She brought her hands together convulsively ; her eyes 
 glistened. 
 
 "That is good! that is good!" she said, under her 
 3 
 
4:4c WILD WORK. 
 
 breath, and began to thank him eagerly for his timely help. 
 Seeing his grave face, she broke o3 with a sudden question : 
 
 "You saw them and spoke to them, they told 3^ou — 
 what?" 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 "It does not matter. I do not care to hear what they 
 told you. It was some lie, of course — a trumped-up story 
 to excuse their pursuit of me. They were my guardian, 
 his brother, and his sons. They want my money between 
 them. They pretended I was mad ; they locked me up 
 and I made my escape. I will yet have my rights. In a 
 little while I shaU be of age. I will go back, and they shall 
 suffer punishment for the wrong they have done me. '* 
 
 She spoke with such clear-toned, steady-eyed assurance 
 that he almost believed her story. 
 
 An hour afterward, when he was pursuing his journey 
 miles away, he chanced to put his hand in his pocket, and 
 felt there a folded paper he had picked up from the river 
 bank when he saw the Texans approaching. Opening it, 
 he deciphered the agitated, scarcely-legible handwriting. 
 It was the note Morris had written to Mabel Waters a few 
 moments before he was hung. It implored her to fly the 
 country at once, to ride his Mexican mare, and get out of 
 the State. It expressed undying love, and bade her an im- 
 passioned farewell. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Summer was abroad over the land — a summer unusually 
 rich in leaf, and flower, and fruit. Especially was this the 
 case in the swamps and the rich, level lands lying along the 
 river and bayous. Here vegetation ran riot. Corn stood in 
 
WILD WORK. 45 
 
 solid, dark-green phalanxes, the great ears pushing against 
 each other, the thick stalks matted with conyolyuli and 
 coral-berry yines. Cotton, oyertopping the tallest man, 
 interlocked its heayy-bolled branches across rows ; weeds 
 sprang up thick and rank eyerywhere ; trumpet-yines and 
 poison-oak embowered eyery stump and tree, and grass and 
 wild cloyer and parsley spread a matted carpet oyer the 
 ground. 
 
 Yet the summer that was so kind to the plant world 
 was no friend to man. The atmosphere, so stimulating to 
 yegetable forces, held germs and exhalations noxious to hu- 
 man life. The season had been unusually sickly. Feyers 
 had grown gradually more malignant as the summer ad- 
 yanced, until the deadly swamp feyer made its appearance, 
 chilling and burning its yictims by turns, and tinging them 
 a saffron deep as that of the helianthus, whose bloomy 
 mass burned like a flame beside the bayous ; swamp feyer, 
 near akin to, and often the prelude of that yellow scourge, 
 so much dreaded along the Western watercourses. 
 
 This summer eyerything along the riyer was fayorable 
 to the propagation of the pestilence ; the atmosphere, the 
 human system, deteriorated by malaria, were ripe for it ; 
 only the seeds were wanting. But not long. In Septem- 
 ber, a boat, with a yellow- feyer case on board, stopped at a 
 near landing ; the germs escaped, fastened themselyes upon 
 their human food, and propagated and spread with terrible 
 rapidity. A number of the dwellers upon the riyer and 
 the fertile swamp fell yictims to the scourge, and then the 
 planters and their families made a hurried exodus, refugee- 
 ing to the hills, carrying a portion of their household effects, 
 and getting into outhouses, or stretching tents along the 
 lakes, where the fish and game were abundant. Crops were 
 left to the care of the negro laborers, who seemed to enjoy 
 an immunity from the disease in its fatal form. Of the 
 
46 WILD WORK 
 
 whites there remained on the river only a few old veterans, 
 who considered themselves fever proof, and some enthusi- 
 astic young planters, too full of life and youth to fear death, 
 and too eager for big harvests and heavy money returns to 
 leave their farms at this critical time, when those indigen- 
 ous rebels, weeds and grass, were fighting for the mastery 
 over King Cotton. 
 
 There was sickness on the hills at the same time, but 
 not of the malignant type that raged in the alluvial regions. 
 It was severe enough, however, to occasion no little uneasi- 
 ness. It broke up, for the time, the prosperous little school 
 in the town of Malta, in which Adelle Holman was teach- 
 er. Very unexpectedly to herself and her friends had Miss 
 Holman come into this position. The cherished daughter 
 of the well-to-do Mossy Valley planter had no need to leave 
 her parents and her pretty home to teach grammar and 
 rhetoric in a country town. Adelle could hardly have ana- 
 lyzed the motives that induced her to accept the post urged 
 her by the principal of the school, her warm admirer and 
 her father's old friend. She knew that the unrest which 
 had lately taken possession of her had something to do with 
 this desire for change and for absorbing work, as had also 
 an increasing repugnance to the marriage her parents seemed 
 to expect and desire her to make ; but the cause of this 
 unrest, and of this dislike to a union she had not before 
 actually opposed, she could not herself understand. She 
 only knew that the old home pleasures had grown tame and 
 wearisome — her garden, her dairy work, her walks and rides 
 through the summer woods, her evening readings aloud to 
 the household, or singing to her father the old-fashioned 
 ballads he loved — all these, that had filled up her young life 
 satisfyingly enough before, failed to do so now. 
 
 Lanier found her moods very puzzling, but her increased 
 reserve, dreamy indifference, and sometimes haughty repel- 
 
WILD WORK. 47 
 
 lence, only served to fan liis passion into more eager flame. 
 His farm joined her father's, and his chestnut stalHon 
 prancing impatiently under the great oak in front of the 
 Holman gate was an every-day sight. Adelle had grown to 
 dread seeing that slim figure spring from the saddle and 
 come hastily up the avenue, followed by two or three 
 hounds, the swarthy face lighting up as he caught sio-ht of 
 her sitting at her sewing in the shaded piazza, or at the 
 window behind her geraniums with her pet orioles chirping 
 in the swinging cage over her head. 
 
 She always found some household task that called sud- 
 denly for her attention in time to break up the tete-a-tete 
 she hated. But even in these self-imposed tasks he would 
 insist upon helping her, following her about the garden, 
 among the pea-rows and raspberry vines, or in the poultry- 
 yard among the pigeons and banta"ins, with the assurance of 
 an accepted suitor. His passionate love talk exasperated 
 her sometimes. She could not respond to it, but neither 
 dared she silence it, for she had a reproving consciousness 
 that she had listened to and tacitly encouraged it in days 
 gone by. To her parents everything seemed to go on 
 smoothly. Age is seldom keenly observant. Colonel Hol- 
 man thought this young man — the son of an old war com- 
 rade — quite well suited, in spite of a little wildness and a 
 rather fierce temper, to be the husband of his beautiful 
 daughter, with her fine, pure, yet passionate nature. 
 
 ^^When are you and Lanier going to make it up, 
 Dell ? " he would ask her sometimes. Her brother, in one 
 of his last visits (he was farming to himself this year as an 
 experiment) took her to task. 
 
 ** Seems to me you are treating Lanier rather coolly, of 
 late," said the young fellow. ^' I don't know much about 
 such matters, but I'm sure I would like my betrothed to be 
 a little more affectionate." 
 
48 V,'ILD WORE, 
 
 **I am not his betrothed. You know, Derrick, there 
 never was any positive engagement between us.'' 
 
 "Wasn't tliere ? Well, there was a promise pretty well 
 understood, if not made in form ; and I suppose you intend 
 to marry him one day — don't you ? " 
 
 "Never! That is, I think not. I do not believe I 
 can." 
 
 " Dell, you don't mean to say you've been flirting with 
 Lanier all this while ? You can't deny you encouraged 
 him." 
 
 "I am afraid I did — once. I really thought I liked 
 him well enough to — But I know my feelings better now. 
 I seem much older, somehow. Like all foolish girls, I 
 found it pleasant to be made love to. I am very sorry. 
 I don't know what to do about it." 
 
 "I am sorry, too. I hope you will get over this non- 
 sense, and behave to Lanier as you ought to. He'll make 
 you a devoted husband, but he's not a fellow to be fooled 
 with, I can tell you — gay and light as he seems." 
 
 Adelle felt sure of that. Lanier had a careless, pleasant 
 way about him, but she had more than once caught a flash 
 of those small, keen black eyes that told her there was a 
 lurking serpent under that surface-deep bon liommie. Ex- 
 acting and fierce in his love, she was sure he would be jeal- 
 ous and revengeful, if he had grounds to be so. Hitherto 
 he had had none. No other lover had been bold enough to 
 contend against him for the favor of the Mossy Valley belle 
 — this girl, whose shy smile and dreamful eyes told of hidden 
 sweetnesses of heart and soul that had never yet been called 
 out. 
 
 "Don't scold. Derrick," she said, putting her arm 
 around his neck, and laying her cheek against his shoulder. 
 "Remember you are going back to-morrow, old fellow. I 
 do wish, though, you had never taken that river place. 
 
WILD WORK. 49 
 
 You are looking thin and sallow already. Good crops won't 
 make up for chills and fever, and nobody to nurse and 
 coddle you as I always did. I know you miss me, but not 
 as much as I miss you. I get quite cross and beside myself, 
 sometimes." 
 
 ''You need a change ; why don't you pay that visit to 
 Birdie Deal you promised her ? I'll go through Malta and 
 take you there to-morrow. I want an excuse to stop and 
 see Birdie, anyhow." 
 
 "That would be nice. And they could spare me, now 
 that Aunt Mitt is here to help with the housekeeping. 
 Malta is always so pleasant in the spring, and so many new 
 people have come in since I was there last summer." 
 
 Her cheek flushed a pretty pink as she spoke. Perhaps 
 the presence in Malta of some one of these "new people" 
 gave a special secret attraction to the place— an attraction 
 she would not have dared to confess to herself, much less 
 to that fond, but fierce, prejudiced young fellow at her side. 
 
 The visit so suddenly planned was really made. Adelle's 
 father, looking at her keenly, declared she had been mopy 
 and drooping of late, and bade her go and stay as long as 
 she liked, so that she brought back the roses and bright 
 eyes he missed, which was self-denying on his part, seeing 
 that "daughter," as he loved to call her, was the delight of 
 his heart. 
 
 ^ When Lanier came next day he found the sitting-room 
 window unadorned by the pretty figure in cool-tinted prints, 
 whose little hand he had been wont to grasp so warmly as 
 to make the red drop from her cheeks and a shiver run 
 through her frame. He was very angry when he found she 
 had gone, and, though Mamma Holman improvised a little 
 message of farewell from the flown bird, he received it in 
 sullen silence, and mounting his horse galloped away in high 
 disgust. 
 
60 TF/Zi) WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Notwithstanding good Mrs. Holman's consoling as- 
 surance to Lanier that Adelle would soon come home, the 
 weeks went by and she did not return. Instead, came a 
 letter to her parents, dutifully asking their consent to her 
 acceptance of a situation in the Malta Academy, and sug- 
 gesting so many reasons why the place would be pleasant 
 and advantageous for her that they plainly saw her heart 
 was set upon staying. The desired consent was accorded 
 in Squire Holman's precise old-fashioned hand, though he 
 could not help intimating his surprise that she should pre- 
 fer the drudgery and confinement of a school-room to the 
 ease and liberty of her otvti home, the society of her parents, 
 and the proximity of a devoted lover. 
 
 It was almost as much to her own surprise as to her fa- 
 ther's that Adelle had been led into accepting the situation. 
 The little lady who had filled it for two years was now about 
 to be promoted to the control of a vndower's household, and 
 good Dr. Wheatley — the school principal — was at a loss 
 how to supply her place. He was deploring his dilemma 
 one evening at Mrs. Deal's tea-table, when Adelle, who sat 
 opposite, looked up from her strawberries and cream, and 
 half playfully proposed to take the vacated place herself — 
 a proposition which was quickly taken up, and resulted in 
 her receiving next day from the academy trustees a formal 
 offer of Miss Black's situation and salary. 
 
 Adelle felt that in some respects the place would be 
 good for her. The regular work was what she needed, 
 and, if she was hearing parsing lessons in the little academy 
 under the oak-trees, she would not be listening to Lanier's 
 half- whispered love speeches, or flushing uncomfortably 
 under his fixed gaze while she tried to sew. 
 
WILD WORK. 51 
 
 She need never see liim alone. When he came to Malta, 
 she could easily persuade good-natured Birdie to make a 
 third party in the parlor and in the walks which she would 
 do her best to avoid. Placed under this restraint, the hot- 
 tempered young man would not be apt to avail himself of 
 Mr. DeaFs hearty invitation to prolong his visits. Mr. 
 Deal took quite a fancy to him. Lanier had the reputation 
 of being a bitter and daring opponent of the new regime, and 
 the old fire-eater, notwithstanding his hospitable disposi- 
 tion, cherished an undying prejudice against everybody 
 that had worn the blue in the late conflict ; and more par- 
 ticularly against those who, since the war, had been quar- 
 tered upon portions of the conquered country, ostensibly to 
 keep the peace. The presence in his town of some of these 
 ex-militaires, now holding civil offices by appointment or 
 through negro votes, was an eyesore to the hearty old rebel. 
 Especially was this so in the case of Witchell, and the old 
 gentleman would never believe otherwise than that the 
 Radical judge's choosing to board next door was done as a 
 personal aggravation to him. 
 
 Witchell, having sold his landed property on Lake Wis- 
 teneau, and bought a valuable plantation in the rich river 
 region which he would come in possessionr of at the end of 
 the year, was now busy maturing large plans for the future. 
 His first aim was to have himself made a State Senator, rep- 
 resenting three large and important parishes. This, in the 
 existing condition of politics, where the people had little or 
 no voice in choosing their officials, could be easily done. 
 After this, foreseeing that the party he belonged to would 
 not always have such smooth sailing as now, and that its 
 sway in the State was destined to be interrupted and weak- 
 ened by dissensions and discords among contending cliques, 
 he determined to make himself independent of it by ac- 
 quiring popularity forcing the people to respect his quali- 
 
62 WILD WORK. 
 
 ties as a leader, while he earned their good-will in more 
 personal ways. He would further strengthen himself by 
 gathering around him some strong and daring spirits, whom 
 he would bind to him by ties of gratitude and interest. 
 By this means, he aimed to make himself the head of 
 a faction, wiser, wilier, and more politic than any of those 
 which were now tacitly organizing through the State, so 
 that, when the time came for a change in the chief State 
 officers, he might be strong enough to seize the supreme 
 prize — the chief Executor's chair, now filled by the adven- 
 turer Warmoth, the shrewd, daring, and unscrupulous. 
 
 Money, always such a mighty lever to success, Witchell 
 knew was all important in attaining his ambitious ends. 
 He had already made money, but he looked on this as 
 merely the nucleus of the colossal fortune he saw oppor- 
 tunities to acquire in the future. 
 
 He had an eye to acquiring money, as well as to gaining 
 influence with the people, when he determined on his 
 change of location. The point on Red River which he 
 had fixed upon as his home was full of promise. Not only 
 was it in the midst of a rich cotton-growing section — a sec- 
 tion, too, where the negroes, who worshiped him, were nu- 
 merous, and in many instances well-to-do, but it was near 
 the little riverside town of Cohatchie, now a mere handful 
 of houses, but destined to play an important part in Wit- 
 chell's programme. He meant Cohatchie to be the base of 
 wide-reaching operations. He had decided it should be 
 the county site of a new parish which he would create. 
 The people in this section had long ago — even in the ante- 
 bellum times — eagerly desired a division in the over-large 
 parish of which they occupied an extreme end. They had 
 never failed to instruct their representatives to obtain this 
 for them, and had hitherto been disappointed so often, they 
 despaired of ever obtaining their right. He would gain it 
 
WILD WORK. 53 
 
 for them, and earn their gratitude and good-will, while he 
 laid the foundation of a fortune for himself in the pros- 
 perity that would attend the new county site. He would 
 take this under his special charge, buying lots for a song, 
 selling them at high figures to the people who would gather 
 in to the young town, the public buildings of which he 
 promised himself should be as elegant as the gratified new 
 parishioners would bear being taxed to build. 
 
 Such schemes of self-aggrandizement floated through his 
 brain, gathering the consistency and system of an organ- 
 ized plan. 
 
 Adelle could see him sometimes thus occupied with his 
 ambitious thoughts from the window of her room, which 
 commanded a view of his across the paling and the narrow 
 strip of yard that interyened. His blinds were often open 
 for the sake of cool air, and she could see him walking the 
 floor w^ith that firm, military stride, or seated at his read- 
 ing-table, his head thrown back against the high chair, his 
 eyes looking intently forward, as though at some yision of 
 the To Be. 
 
 Sometimes he had company. There were two men es- 
 pecially whom he counted on to be of use to him, one from 
 his daring and persistence, the other from his shrewd judg- 
 ment and financial sharpness. One was Morton Carls, a 
 former sugar-planter in Cuba, now a rabid oflice-seeker ; 
 the other was Devene, who had early become a satellite of 
 Witchell's, and owed to his influence his seat in the Legis- 
 lature as representative of the parish in which they lived, 
 the Democratic member having been ousted on the prin- 
 ciple that might makes right. Devene had already been 
 useful to his friend. The bill appropriating thirty thou- 
 sand dollars for the cleaning out of Lake Wisteneau had 
 been got through the Legislature by the new member. 
 The cleaning out that was done was a sham, but the appro- 
 
54 WILD WORK. 
 
 priation money which found its way into Witclieirs pocket 
 was a solid reality. 
 
 These two satellites were sometimes to be seen with Wit- 
 chell in his room. Even with his friends, he did not con- 
 descend to familiarity ; but, though he kej^t on the mask of 
 reserve that prevented over-intimacy, and confided his plans 
 to no one, he could be genial and companionable. Adelle 
 had glimpses of the three sitting at the small table, across 
 which the bottle and glasses were occasionally pushed 
 about, not pausing before Witchell, however, for drinking 
 was not one of his vices. He was temperate almost to aus- 
 terity in his appetites. 
 
 Adelle saw little of him, beyond these glimpses caught 
 through half-open blinds. Occasionally, she had met him, 
 but he volunteered no sign of recognition ; and she, con- 
 fused by consciousness of obligation to him, which she had 
 ungratefully received, felt her cheeks flame and her eyes in- 
 voluntarily avert themselves when they met. 
 
 Only once had she spoken to him. She had gone to 
 evening church service, escorted by a physician, who had 
 been called off on a professional errand before service was 
 over. In a whisper, he excused himself to her, and know- 
 ing that Miss Deal and her father were at church, she felt 
 no uneasiness about the way in which she should get 
 home. 
 
 When the benediction had been pronounced, and the 
 people were streaming out of different doors, she stood 
 waiting for her friends to come out with the rest. But she 
 waited in vain. Not knowing she was alone, they had gone 
 out at another door. The church was empty before she 
 became convinced her friends were gone, and, hurrying out, 
 she found everybody walking away at some little distance. 
 She stood annoyed and perplexed, turning her head from 
 right to left, in a fluttered way. Mr. Deal's house was at 
 
WILD WORK. 55 
 
 some distance from the church, and the social code of Malta 
 made it a great breach of propriety for a woman to walk 
 alone at night. 
 
 ''Can I assist you?" asked a voice. A man's figure 
 stepped out from the shadow of the church wall and stood 
 before her. Too much confused to know in the dim light 
 whether it was an acquaintance or a stranger, she answered 
 that she was lost from her party, and disliked to go home 
 alone. He seemed to hesitate after hearing her voice, but 
 the next instant he proffered his escort, adding, ''Perhaps 
 we can overtake your friends before they reach home." 
 
 There seemed nothing for her to do but to accept his 
 attendance, and she walked on by his side. They walked 
 so rapidly as soon to overtake the hindmost groups, and 
 the glare of a street lamp just before her showed Adelle 
 the familiar figures of a gentleman and lady, who lived near 
 her boarding-house. 
 
 "It is Mr. Medlock. I need not trouble you any 
 longer, sir. Thanks for your kindness." 
 
 This is what she was going to say, as she turned to look 
 in her escort's face. 
 
 But that face drove the words out of her mind and the 
 blood into her cheeks. It was Captain "Witchell. Instead 
 of saying what she had intended, she stammered some 
 incoherent words, and hurriedly withdrew her hand from 
 his arm. His lip twitched ; he smiled in a bitter way, as 
 he had done that time she shrank from him in the boat. 
 
 " You did not know it was I ; neither did I know who 
 you were when I offered to accompany you. I think you 
 have no longer any need of my escort ; you have come up 
 with your friends. Good evening ! " 
 
 He turned off before she could speak. Her first im- 
 pulse was to call him back. What a lack of common cour- 
 tesy lie must attribute to her ! But then, what right had 
 
56 TT/ZZ) WOBK. 
 
 he to expect civility from her — he, her father's and her 
 country's enemy ? 
 
 Yet she was troubled ; her yoice was agitated when, join- 
 ing her acquaintances, she explained that she had been left 
 in church by her attendant and had failed to get with her 
 friends. 
 
 ** One dislikes to be rude and ungrateful, even to a 
 carpet-bagger," she wrote to her friend Zoe, that night. 
 *'Does it not seem that Fate tries to throw Captain Wit- 
 chell for ever in my path ? Did I write you that I had 
 found out it was he who kept papa's old hound Nero from 
 being killed ? He had followed papa up here when he came 
 to see me, and had got left. He was disconsolate because 
 of it, and howled about the streets so that the people 
 thought he was mad and were going to kill him, when Cap- 
 tain "Witchell interfered and took him with him, fed him 
 and kept him until he could send him home by a negro. 
 The negro would not tell who it was had cared for the dog, 
 but I have since found out. Really, there must be some 
 good in the man. The poor people around Lake Wisteneau 
 and about here say he is very kind to them — gives them 
 corn and other provisions — ' robbing with one hand to give 
 with the other,' papa says, like Robin Hood and Rinaldo 
 Rinaldini, only our freebooter is a licensed one, and, with 
 his inflexible figure and sandy locks (they are almost red, 
 Zoe), he looks more like a Highland chief than an Italian 
 brigand. And he has the Scotch love of lucre, my dear." 
 
 This letter Zoe got from the Cohatchie post-office, as 
 she and her brother's family were on their way to the hills 
 — refugees from the yellow fever that had now broken out 
 upon the river. Adelle was exceedingly anxious about her 
 brother until she had a note from him, telling her that he 
 was camped on Clear Lake with his gun and dogs and a 
 half-dozen young fellows, and might have a fine time, if it 
 
WILD WORK. 57 
 
 did not hurt him so to think of his crop being left to the 
 devastation of stock and negroes, just as the cotton was 
 bursting open and the corn was getting ripe enough to 
 gather. 
 
 She sent this note to her father, with a few lines from 
 herself, saying that the school was suspended at the end of 
 the week because of sickness, and they might look for her 
 to come home in a little while. 
 
 One afternoon, a few days afterward, she was sitting in 
 the shaded piazza, watching the clouds that piled themselves 
 in the sky, and noting the hot, hushed stillness of the hour, 
 when a negro rode up to the gate, got off his mule, and, 
 coming up to the paling, said : 
 
 " Step here a minute. Miss Dell." 
 
 She recognized Jake — an old negro that had once be- 
 longed to her father, but, since '^freedom came," had cast 
 his fortunes on the river, and was staying on Mr. Vincent's 
 place when she saw him last spring. The adventure of the 
 flat and her rescue by Captain Witchell came vividly to 
 mind as she walked up to the paling, and greeted the old 
 negro with her usual friendliness. 
 
 ** Do you come from the river ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, I do, missy, but I dassent let it be known. Dey 
 halts me ebery where, an' ax, 'Ain't you come from de yal- 
 ler fever country ? ' and I swars I ain't been nigh de riber in 
 a year. Bound to do it, or git stopped, and I come on an 
 arrant of mussy, myself. I come to git a doctor for de 
 sick ; dem our way is done give out." 
 
 "Did you get one?" 
 
 ** No, missy. I went to two, and, when dey heard what 
 I wanted, dey jumped up from de wind side o' me, an' say, 
 ^ Ef you don't git out'er dis, you raskil, I'll sit de dogs on 
 you.' What's to be done ? Our doctor is jes' worn out wid 
 ridin' and tendin', and de fever's on de increase." 
 
58 WILD WORK. 
 
 *' That is dreadful ! And you black people are the only- 
 ones to nurse the sick ? " 
 
 ** Yes, missy ; but de black folks gittin' scurt deirselves 
 now, sence Big Sam tuck de fever un died, atter waitin' on 
 Captain Levin ; and now you kin hardly git um to nuss de 
 sick or to bury de dead." 
 
 " God help the poor sufferers ! Why did they not leave 
 the river before it was so bad ? I am glad my brother got 
 away in time." 
 
 "When you done hear las' from your brudder. Miss 
 Dell ? " the old negro asked, eyeing her in a peculiar way. 
 
 " Only four or five days ago I had a letter from him. 
 He is camped on Lake Clear, enjoying the hunting and 
 fishing, only he says he can't help being anxious about his 
 fine crop on the river, and wanting to run down and see 
 about it." 
 
 '^ He did run down." 
 
 "Is it possible he has been so imprudent ? I hope he 
 did not stay an hour. When did he go back." 
 
 "He ain't gone back, missy." 
 
 "What! Is he there yet? My God! Uncle Jake, 
 please do ride back as fast as you can, and tell him, for my 
 sake, to come away this moment. Eide fast. Uncle Jake." 
 
 She put her hand over the paling, and laid it on the 
 old negro's arm in entreaty. He took it in his wrinkled 
 fingers, and looked at her pityingly. 
 
 "De Lord help you. Miss Dell," he said, sadly, "he 
 can't git away, chile. It hurts me to tell you sich bad 
 news, but — he's got de fever ; tuck it yesterday, bad." 
 
 She turned ghastly in a second ; she grasped the fence 
 with trembling hands. 
 
 " Don't faint, missy ; don't take it to heart so. He's in 
 de Lord's hands." 
 
 "No," she said, hastily, "I won't faint, Jake, for I 
 
WILD WORK. 59 
 
 must go to my brother now — tliis moment. I will go with 
 you." 
 
 "Better not. Miss Dell. You'd jest take the fever 
 yourself, and break yer pa's heart. I thought you might 
 use your 'suasion to git a doctor for him up here and a 
 nurse. Me and Brudder May will 'tend him as bes' we 
 kin, but we'se boff ole, and it takes mighty strong hands to 
 wait on de yeller fever. You couldn't do much good, Miss 
 Dell ; and 'tain't 'spected of you to go. When young George 
 Glaston was tuck, dey sent up for his ma and his sister what 
 was gone to dere hill place, and der 'lations wouldn't let 
 'em come, nohow. Miss Annette's sweetheart, he come 
 down hisself, poor fellow, and nuss'd George like a brud- 
 der, and now he's down, and no hope for him. Dey sent 
 George's body up to be buried in the fam'ly graveyard, on 
 de hills, and a party o' men rode outer de woods jes' t'other 
 side de riber swamp, and drawed up in de road fifty yards 
 ahead o' de wagon dat had de corpse in it, and hollowed to 
 de black folks dat was gwine 'long wid it, to stop right dare, 
 and dig a hole an' bury de body in it, or else git shot like 
 dogs ; kase dey shouldn't take a yaller fever corpse troo de 
 country, and dey shouldn't go troo it deyselves. Dat'll 
 show you how dreadful folks tink de yaller fever is." 
 
 *' Dreadful!" echoed the girl, absently. "I must go 
 to him at once. I won't tell them here where I am going, 
 for fear of being hindered. I v/ill let them suppose I have 
 been sent for to go home. They will lend me a horse. 
 While it is being saddled, Jake, you go to Dr. Pritchard, 
 tell him I sent you, and beg him to go to my brother. 
 Come back immediately. Don't tell any one where I am 
 going." 
 
 She was ready to mount the waiting horse when Jake 
 rode back, having failed in his mission. Dr. Pritchard said 
 he was sorry, but he dared not venture on the river, where 
 
gQ WILD WORK. 
 
 the disease was so virulent. He had a family to whom his 
 life was important. Besides, he would lose all his practice 
 here, if it was known he had visited a yellow-fever patient. 
 
 They set out by themselves, riding leisurely until out of 
 Bight of the town, for Adelle was fearful of being delayed 
 by arguments against the step she was taking, if her friends 
 found it out. Once away from the town, they increased their 
 speed to a gallop. As they rode, Adelle said : *'I trust 
 they will not hear of this misfortune at home. Father and 
 mother would come, and it would probably be their death. 
 Uncle Jake, did you charge Dr. Pritchard not to tell any 
 one that Derrick had the fever ?" 
 
 " Yes, missy, I told him yo;i was afeard his ma would 
 hear it, and she was sickly like." 
 
 " And have you told no one else ? " 
 
 "Not a soul— yes, I'm tellin' a lie— I told Captain 
 Witchell. I met him jes' dis side o' tovm, goin' toward de 
 riber. He 'trected me to de doctor." 
 
 It was a long, weary ride. It seemed to Dell that they 
 would never reach their journey's end — never leave the pines 
 and oaks of the " Hills" behind. It was near sunset when 
 they entered the river-swamp. Adelle felt the difference 
 in the atmosphere the moment that, after crossing a small 
 bayou, she rode under the great ash-, and gum-, and cypress- 
 trees, hung with huge, festooning vines, with a carpet of 
 grass underneath. 
 
 The shadow and stillness of death seemed to brood under 
 those great trees and knotted vines. Not a bird sang — the 
 rustle of a snake among the grass — the stealthy flap of an 
 owl's wing, as the bird, wakened from his drowse on a limb 
 overhead, flew away, skimming his level flight among the 
 huge tree-trunks — these were the only sounds that broke 
 the gloomy silence. 
 
 It was strangely still, too, out in the broad fields and 
 
WILD WORK. 61 
 
 cleared pasture-lands which they soon came upon. These 
 were green with riotous growth, but they bore a look of 
 neglect and desertion. The cotton bolls were bursting 
 open, here and there, and thickly in patcnes, with none to 
 pick them ; the fodder hung brown and ungathered upon 
 the corn-stalks. Labor had become paralyzed in the pres- 
 ence of death. The negroes did nothing but wander from 
 one plantation to another — in some instances nursing the 
 sick with attentive kindness, but usually hanging about the 
 plague-smitten houses, fascinated, after the manner of their 
 kind, with the horror of death and suffering, and pleased 
 with the chance to gossip and idle, and the opportunity to 
 steal ; at one moment holding vociferous song- and prayer- 
 meetings, and shedding tears over the delirous patient ; the 
 next, slipping out to rob his hen-roost, his pig-pen, or his 
 smoke-house. Such is the contradictory nature of this peo- 
 ple. 
 
 As Adelle and her gray-haired but active and garrulous 
 companion wound their way down to the river, old Jake 
 pointed to a fresh mound not far from a river sand-bar, and 
 said : 
 
 "Dere's where de steamboat Belle Bowling stop las' 
 Sunday night, and buried a young 'oman what died on 
 board wid de fever. Dey buried her 'bout midnight. Tony 
 Watts seed de lights, an' comed down. He sed dey took 
 lier out mighty easy, fer fear of waken' de passengers. Dey 
 never does let 'em know dare's any fever on board, 'fraid o' 
 der leavin de boat." 
 
 The shrunken, muddy river flowed sluggishly between 
 its steep banks ; the poisonous night-fog was beginning al- 
 ready to rise from it, and from the half dried-up sloughs 
 filled with rank grass, tall blossoming weeds and croaking 
 frogs. 
 
 In answer to Jake's prolonged **Eh-o-o-o," a thick- 
 
62 ^-^^^ WOEK. 
 
 lipped, stupid-looking negro brought over a flat. As he 
 stepped out of it upon the sand, Adelle asked : 
 
 " How is my brother — how is Mr. Holman ? " 
 
 *' I hearn a while ago he was d-e-a-d," drawled the negro, 
 pulling at the chain of the flat in a leisurely way. 
 
 "Dead!" 
 
 ** Well, no'm. 'Twant him ; I dunno how he is. 'Twar 
 Major Copley, down de river. He's had to gib up de game 
 at las', Jake." 
 
 *'He has?" returned Jake, and explained that w^hen 
 "de fever corned, de major shut hisself and his man Dank 
 up stairs in de ole house, wid a bar'l o' whisky, and swore 
 he'd stay and tough it out. Yallow Jack 'd never come his 
 way. Whisky 'd kill him dead'n a cottonwood stump, if 
 he did. Well, Yallow Jack struck him las' Monday, war'nt 
 it. Bill ? and de fus' ting he done, when the lirum tuck 
 him, was to jump up outer de bed and stave in the whisky- 
 bar'l. Den he paddled and sjolosh about in de licker over de 
 floor, and holler out he's in de lake o' fire and brim-stone." 
 
 " He's dere now, sure enuff," Bill said, shaking his 
 stupid head wisely. "Died a cussin', and a hollerin' out 
 de debil had 'im ! " 
 
 This cheerful conversation, added to her suspense and 
 distress, set every nerve in Adelle's body to quivering so 
 that she could hardly keep her seat in the saddle when 
 they had remounted on the other side of the river, and 
 were riding the quarter of a mile that lay between the 
 crossing and the house where her brother lived. The road 
 ran near the bank, with the stream on one side and the 
 fields (unfenced) upon the other. But now, both field and 
 river were hid by the ranks of tall weeds that grew on either 
 side, crowding close to the narrow road, in which nothing 
 but the constant trampling of horses ridden by negroes had 
 kept them down. 
 
WILD WORK, e3 
 
 At last they were at the gate of the old weather-beaten, 
 moss-grown house in which Derrick had set up his bache- 
 lor's hall. An enormous pecan-tree shaded it at one end, 
 fennel and coffee-weeds grew up to the door-step, the gate 
 swung open on its broken hinges, and hogs and little ne- 
 groes were feasting on the fallen peaches in the grass of the 
 orchard. A couple of negro women were despoiling the 
 garden of the few cabbages that dared to show their heads 
 among the weeds. 
 
 With that cowardly dread that assails us when suspense 
 is about to be exchanged for certainty, Adelle shrank from 
 asking the negroes how her brother was. She would rather 
 solve the dreadful doubt with her own eyes. 
 
 She jumped from her horse so hurriedly that her foot 
 received a wrench which made her fall to her knees with 
 keen pain. In a moment she had mastered it, and rising 
 to her feet she turned to enter the gate. But a man's tall 
 form barred the way, and Captain WitchelFs voice said 
 calmly : 
 
 '^ Miss Holman, you must not go in." 
 
 She looked at him in haughty surprise. 
 
 "Do not dare forbid me," she said. ''My brother is 
 ill ; I must be with him. Let me pass, sir." 
 
 '' Not till you have listened to a word of reason. Your 
 brother has the fever, but it is not necessarily fatal. With 
 good nursing he may recover." 
 
 ''I have come to be his nurse." 
 
 " You have no idea of the sort of nursing a person with 
 yellow fever requires. Calmness and physical strength are 
 needed. You are not fitted for the task. Then you are 
 more than likely to take the fever yourself. The fatigue 
 and anxiety you are suffering this moment predispose you to 
 take it at once. Then we would have two patients instead 
 of one. If your brother should recognize you, anxiety on 
 
64: WILD WORE. 
 
 your account would make him worse. The least thing tells 
 against the patient in this disease." 
 
 " Captain Witchell, I came here to see my brother, to 
 be with him while he is ill ; do you think I can stand here 
 and know he is suffering yonder, and yet keep away from 
 him, through consideration for my own safety ? " 
 
 '*Your parents deserve also to be considered. What 
 would they suffer, knowing that you both are in danger ? 
 But, if you could do your brother any good — " 
 
 "You have said that good nursing may save him." 
 
 "It may, and he shall have it. I will myself be his 
 nurse." 
 
 ** You ? You will do what his sister must not ? You 
 will expose yourself to danger when she draws back — you, 
 a stranger, an — " 
 
 "Enemy, you would say, but I have no enmity for him, 
 nor any of these people. In the end it will be proved. But 
 let that pass. I shall not risk much by attending on your 
 brother. I have been several times in the midst of yellow 
 fever ; I have experience in nursing it ; it requires constant 
 watchfulness to see that the patient does not uncover him- 
 self in his delirious tossings. The bed-covering must be 
 held down by force. Much depends upon this." 
 
 "Is my brother delirious? Oh, how he must suffer! 
 Captain Witchell, stand aside, I will see my brother, if I die 
 for it." 
 
 "No, Miss Holman, I will not let you see him. The 
 doors of that house are locked ; the keys are in my pocket. 
 I will not permit you to enter. " 
 
 His determined look made her falter. That look on a 
 man's face — the look of knowing what he is about, and 
 being resolved to hold to it — usually masters a woman, and 
 turns opposition into trust. But she tried to stand firm 
 against it. 
 
WILD WORK. 65 
 
 '' What do you mean, sir ? What right have you to 
 oppose me ? " 
 
 *'The right of common sense, Miss Holman. I have 
 told you I shall nurse your brother, and that he shall want 
 for nothing. I have sent a messenger to N for a physi- 
 cian. I know him, and he will come for me. The negroes 
 will help nurse your brother. They are frightened, but 
 they will obey me." 
 
 " But I can not go back and leave my brother this way, 
 not knowing what his fate may be ; indeed, I can not. Let 
 me at least stay near here ; and promise that you will let me 
 know if he is worse." 
 
 Witchell thought a moment. 
 
 *^ You can not, indeed, go back to-night. It is already 
 nearly dark. But where can you stay ? I think there is 
 not a white woman left in this part of the country. Both 
 those houses yonder are deserted and shut up ; in that 
 one there, the corpse of a young man has lain since yester- 
 day. 
 
 He pointed, as he spoke, to different plantation houses 
 which could be seen along the windings of the river across 
 the level country. 
 
 *'WhatcanIdo?" 
 
 " You must not stay out any longer. It is dangerous, 
 now that the sun has set. There are nothing here but the 
 negro cabins, but there is one of these you might stay in to- 
 night, at least. It is only occupied by an old negro woman. 
 She is eccentric, and the negroes shun her, and call her a 
 witch ; so that they will not intrude upon you. One of her 
 hobbies is to be always washing and scrubbing, and you will 
 find everything about her perfectly clean. You will be bet- 
 ter there than anywhere I can think of now. Let me take 
 you there at once. It is advisable that you get in out of the 
 evening air ; and I must go back to your brother." 
 
G6 WILD WORK. 
 
 She hesitated, and stood half bewildered. It was all so 
 strange. This country, so gloomy and waste-looking in spite 
 of its wealth of green ; that old weather-beaten house, lying 
 among the weeds like a stranded wreck ; death all around ; 
 death in the air, and her only brother lying yonder, delirious 
 of the fatal fever, nursed by a man he hated, and this same 
 man getting the mastery over her, making her look up to 
 him, and trust to him to plan for her safety. 
 
 It all seemed strange. She put her hand to her brow 
 in confused thought. As it fell again to her side Cap- 
 tain Witchell took it quietly, drew it within his arm, and, 
 without a word, guided her steps away from the house 
 toward the row of cabins that faced the river farther up. 
 One of these was isolated from the others, and stood back 
 under a tall cottonwood-tree. Before the door of this 
 cabin several fires were blazing and crackling, sending up 
 bright sparks through the dusk. Distinct in the glare 
 stood the tall, withered figure of an old negro woman, who 
 was heaping on the fires the brush and C3rpress knees she 
 had brought up from the swamp. She wore a big-flowered 
 cotton dress, faded and fantastically bepatched, but clean ; 
 a strip of red shawl was tied about her head, under which 
 shone her small, keen face and sharp little eyes. Captain 
 Witchell pointed to the figure standing among the smoke 
 and glare. 
 
 **If you should ask me, with Banquo, ^ Wlio is this — so 
 withered, and so wild in her attire ?' I would make answer, 
 It is Aunt Margaret — the reputed conjuress — who is herself 
 desperately afraid of being ' conjured.' She is a queer char- 
 acter, a little crazed at times, but perfectly harmless ; and 
 there is usually a method in her madness. Those fires, for 
 instance ; she has kindled them every evening since the fever 
 made its appearance. I can't tell where she got the idea, 
 but it is a good one. The heat kills the floating germs of 
 
WILD WORK. 67 
 
 the disease, wliicli are especially active and plentiful in the 
 still air of evening. " 
 
 She took no notice of their approach, but, passing from 
 one little fire-heap to another, pushed up the crackling 
 brush and muttered her satisfaction as the tongues of flame 
 leaped up, and the sparks flew out. Captain Witchell touched 
 her on the shoulder, upon which she turned and courtesied 
 in a stately way. But, on his explaining Adelle's situation, 
 and his wish that she should find shelter for the night in 
 her house, she shook her head, declaring : ^^ Can't let no- 
 body stay in my house. I might be blind, or stiff-dead in de 
 mornin' ; too many tryin' to put bad eye on ole Margaret." 
 
 Fear of being " conjured " haunted this old creature con- 
 tinually, and it was not until after much persuasion from 
 Captain Witchell, aided by the silver piece he pressed in 
 her hand, and supplemented at last by a stern declaration 
 of authority, that she was induced to promise Adelle a shel- 
 ter in her house, and kindness and attention at her hands. 
 
 *^She will keep her word faithfully when she has once 
 given it," Captain Witchell said. *^ I have occasion to know 
 she is stanch and honest, in spite of her crotchets. She 
 will make you as comfortable as she can. And now go in ; 
 I must get back to my patient. I will send you word to- 
 night how he is. " 
 
 He was gone, and she had said no word in acknowl- 
 edgment of his kindness. Why was he doing this ? What 
 was his motive for the generous deed he was performing ? 
 Was it "policy" ? Was this merely a step toward gaining 
 popularity with that better class of citizens who were so 
 opposed to him ? Of course, nothing really disinterested 
 and noble could be the moving principle of such a man, 
 and yet — 
 
 "What time did Captain Witchell come down here ?" 
 she asked old Margaret. 
 4 
 
GS WILD WOKE. 
 
 "I soe liim crossin' do ribber 'bout three hours by 
 sun. Heard lie had cum down to see Majer Kopley on 
 business and found out he's dead, and dat dis one up here" 
 — pointing to the house where Derrick lay — " was like to 
 die, and his nusses scared and runned away — ole Jake fust 
 one, do' he brags so on hisself, and make out he's sich a 
 brave Christian. Jake's a 'sateful old hypocrick, but he's 
 not much worse'n de balance. Bound he'll not go nigh dat 
 sick young man, less Witchell makes him. lie can make 
 'em all do anything he wants to." 
 
 *' How ?" Adelle asked, seeing that the old negro's face 
 put on a look of mystery. 
 
 ''Ah! dat's it. He's got de power." She pointed 
 down, as if to signify that the "power " came from below. 
 
 Adelle obeyed Captain Witchell's injunction to go in 
 doors. Seated in a rude poplar cliair, that had been scoured 
 to immaculate whiteness, she watched old Margaret flitting, 
 witch-like, around her pots and ovens, lifting a ''spider" 
 lid to show the corn loaves turning a rich brown, and peer- 
 ing into an oven from which escaped a savory steam. A 
 negro came to the cabin door, set down a wooden tray full 
 of things, and with the words, "Cap'n Witchell sent 'em," 
 vanished. 
 
 " Might 'er had manners to come in and set it on de 
 table," grumbled the old woman, inspecting the contents 
 of the various vessels that filled the tray. " Flour ; where 
 de lard to make it up wid, I wonder ? Oh, here it is. 
 Sugar ; mighty scase of it ; spec dat triflin' nigger been 
 stuffin' hisself wid it on de way. Coffee ; drefful little, 
 shrivly grains. What dat in de tin cup ? A-h-h-h ! " 
 
 The sniff she took of the contents of the cup had the 
 effect of suddenly putting her in a good humor ; and, after 
 sweetening the "dram" to her taste and drinking it eager- 
 ly down, she was ready to fly around with an alacrity that 
 
WILD WORK. 69 
 
 surprised Addle. The odor of parching coffee soon dif- 
 fused itself through the room, a Iittl(j square table was 
 drawn out and spread with a clean, coarse cloth, a gayly 
 flowered plate, cup and saucer, were deposited upon it, and 
 then the covered oven disclosed its savory mystery — a rab- 
 ])it baked crisp, but juicy — the brown dodgers were turned 
 out, and these, with a saucer of golden honey, the steaming 
 coffee, and a small, red-hearted watermelon, constituted the 
 supper to which Aunt Margaret invited her guest to sit 
 down. She herself took a seat by the hearth, pretending 
 to poke the fire, while she covertly watched Adelle with 
 satisfaction as she drank the coffee and ate a slice of the 
 bread and honey. 
 
 When the supper was over, Adelle drew her chair close 
 to the door for the sake of air, and old Margaret, having 
 replenished her fires outside, sat down on the door step and 
 puffed away at her pipe. The night was clouded, the moon 
 shone feebly ; through the stillness came sounds of people 
 talking, as they passed along the river-side road in front. 
 
 *' It's niggers goin' to Little Dan's buryin'," old Mar- 
 garet said. *' Goin' to bury him to-night under de pecan- 
 tree in his cotton fieP, what he used to love to sit under an' 
 oversee his hands. Dey'll see. His sperrit gwine ter haunt 
 dat fieP 'til judgment day, and dey dassent pass troo it at 
 night, or hunt another possum in it agin. Ought to buried 
 him in de fam'ly graveyard on de hills, only he told 'em he 
 didn't want to go dere — too lonesome in dat piney woods 
 for Dan. Dan born on de ribber, and he love de red dirt. 
 He tole 'em he didn't want to lie out o' hearin' of de steam- 
 boat's whistle. Poor Dan ! De black people grieved after 
 him mightily. Dey nussed him well too — nobody but dem." 
 
 ** Had he no relations ? " 
 
 "Sisters, but livin' further down de river, and got sick- 
 ness and death wid dem too. And Dan was always one to 
 
70 WILD WORK. 
 
 himself, never had no wife, no sweetheart, nor went off 
 nowhere ; jes' stayed up yonder in dat old house, where 
 most all his folks died. He's lyin' up dere now — what of 
 him hasn't gone below." 
 
 ** Gone below ? Why do you say such a thing ? " 
 
 " Cause it's so. lie died awful. Dey all die so — hollerin' 
 and jumpin' out 'er bed, and sayin' de imps is after 'em." 
 
 '* Because they are delirious, or crazed with pain. It 
 is the nature of the disease." 
 
 She shook her head incredulously. To her mind, and 
 the minds of her race, all who do not die happy, " go be- 
 low." 
 
 " Him up yonder is hollerin' now ; I heard him," she 
 said presently, with a gesture of her head toward Derrick's 
 house. 
 
 Adelle started up in terror and self-reproach. Derrick 
 might be dying as Little Dan died, with no friend or rela- 
 tive near him. 
 
 " I will go to him," she cried. 
 
 As she reached the door, she came face to face with the 
 negro who had brought the tray. He put a slip of paper 
 in her hand and disappeared. She hurried to the light, 
 and read : 
 
 '* Your brother is no worse. I have hopes, but the fever 
 must run its course. The crisis will not be reached before 
 to-morrow. You shall know when there is any change." 
 
 She sat down again, and strove to quiet herself. An 
 hour went by ; old Margaret nodded in the chimney corner ; 
 Adelle had thrown herself across the bed, over whose white 
 sheet had been spread a clean, faded quilt. She lay, look- 
 ing about the little room with bright, sleepless eyes, and 
 listening. Presently, she thought she heard a cry. She 
 rose softly, undid the door-latch, and went out. The night 
 had grown gloomier ; thick fog lay upon the river ; Marga- 
 
WILD WORK. 71 
 
 ret's fires had burned low. Looking toward the dwelling- 
 house, she saw the dull gleam of the sick-lamp in the upper 
 front room. So it was there her brother was lying. As 
 she looked, and strained her ears to catch some sound, the 
 light at the window was intercepted by a man's form. She 
 knew that tall, spare figure, that attitude, the arms folded, 
 the head slightly bent. He was standing, looking out at 
 the night. Presently, he turned quickly as if at a call 
 from within. He had gone to her brother's bedside — he 
 had promised to watch him faithfully ; he would fulfill his 
 word ; she had perfect trust in this. And he had said there 
 was hope ; she clung to his words, even while she wondered 
 at herself for feeling such confidence in the man she de- 
 spised. 
 
 Again she heard the sound that had first startled her. 
 It did not come from her brother's room. It was farther 
 off. Looking, she saw, across a bend in the river, torches 
 moving slowly, as in a procession ; notes of wild singing 
 came to her ears. The negroes were burying " Little Dan '' 
 (so called because his father, who was dead, had borne the 
 same Christian name) ; they were burying him in the mid- 
 dle of the cotton field, under the pecan-tree, where he had 
 loved to sit on the cool grass with his dog beside him,, and 
 exchange friendly words with the hands as they passed up 
 and down the long rows wielding their hoes, or dragging 
 their cotton-picking sacks. They were burying him there 
 with none of his kin or color to see the rude ceremony, and 
 that wild, mournful strain was the sound of the hymns 
 they were singing as they bore him to his grave. 
 
 Heart-sick, Adelle went back to the cabin. Old Mar- 
 garet was awake and had resumed her pipe. 
 
 *^ You'll catch your death out dere," she said, placidly ; 
 '^Yallow Jack likes de whitest skins de best. They'se 
 buryin Little Dan ; I hearn 'em singin'. It's better'n dey 
 
72 WILD WORK. 
 
 did by poor Tom Wallace back here in de swamp. Dey 
 h'ad got skeered ; and didn't like him much nohow. Most 
 dey'd do was to dig a grave in one corner de yard, and 
 knock up a c}^ress coffin, and slide it onto de gallery. His 
 young wife and her father — him wid de fever on him, too — 
 had to do de rest — to git de body in de coffin somehow, and 
 den roll and push de coffin till dey roll it into de grave, and 
 cover it theirselves. " 
 
 Shuddering at the gloomy picture, Adelle lay down and 
 buried her face in the pillow. Sleep came to her at last — 
 the deep, sweet sleep that comes to the relief of over- wearied 
 body and over-burdened brain. When she awoke, it was 
 broad daylight. A breakfast of eggs and biscuits, fried 
 chicken and fragrant coffee was smoking on the little table 
 near her, and old Margaret stood by her bed. 
 
 She started up in dread. " My brother ! " she cried, 
 looking wildly at Margaret. The old negress smiled grimly, 
 and handed her another leaf of the little pocket note-book. 
 She read on it : 
 
 *' Nothing that can be called a change. The disease is 
 approaching a crisis. Dr. Mercer is here. Have courage." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The long September day seemed interminable. The 
 hours dragged on— hot, still, suffocating. In the brooding 
 hush. Derrick's cries more than once reached his sister's 
 ears, as she sat on a bench under the cottonwood-tree, with 
 her eyes fixed upon the windows of that front room in 
 which her brother lay. 
 
 As the day drew to a close the heat became more op- 
 pressive, the aspect of the sky more threatening. Each 
 
WILD WORK. 73 
 
 afternoon, for several days past, tlie sky had darkened, and 
 emitted lightnings, but now the clouds rolled up in larger 
 and darker masses, shaded and streaked with lurid bronze. 
 About the hour of sunset the earth and sky were suddenly 
 bathed in a wierd, blood-like glow, that contrasted start- 
 lingly with the darkness of the clouds, shutting down, like 
 a black lid, upon the horizon. 
 
 Adelle had walked down along the river bank till she 
 came to a point in front of Derrick's house, that stood back 
 some distance from the river — a black-looking hulk, strand- 
 ed in a sea of weeds. She stood there on the brink of the 
 steep bank and watched the ghastly glow reflected far along 
 in the waters of the river. She watched it in awe. It 
 seemed ominous of evil, and the vulture, circling slowly 
 under the black sky in the midst of the bloody radiance, 
 seemed to scent approaching death, and to luxuriate in the 
 scent with a slow, languorous joy. 
 
 As she stood impressed with the wildness of the scene, 
 suddenly she heard her awn name called aloud in tones that 
 pierced shrilly through the unearthly stillness. She lis- 
 tened ; the cry came again ; it was Derrick's voice — he was 
 calling upon her in his agony. She could bear it no longer. 
 She ran straight to the house. She found the gate fastened 
 with a chain, and, while she was trying to undo it, Captain 
 Witchell came out to her. 
 
 " Why will you persist in this ? " he said, sternly. '^ It 
 is useless ; I can not let you come in." 
 
 "I will," she cried. '^You dare not turn me away. 
 My brother calls me. He is dying." 
 
 "He is not. There is hope for him, but everything 
 depends on the next two hours. We are striving to keep 
 him calm ; the least excitement increases the restlessness 
 and fever. The sight of your face, which it is possible he 
 would recognize, might ruin all at this delicate crisis. All 
 
74 WILD WORK. 
 
 that can be done for him is being done. Will you still 
 persist in being unreasonable ? " 
 
 *^No; I will go back and wait. Forgive me; this 
 anxiety is hard to bear. " 
 
 She turned away, but looked back to say: "In two 
 hours — will you then let me know ? " 
 
 He nodded his head in silence, and went quickly back 
 into the house, fastening the door after him. 
 
 Before the two hours had fully passed there were con- 
 fusion and terror in the little row of cabins along the river. 
 The threatened elemental disturbance came in the shape of 
 a storm of wind and lightning. The wind came in strong 
 gusts, that swept roaring through the far forests, and bowed 
 the young ash and cottonwoods on the opposite bank of the 
 river to the very earth. The rotten old cabins rocked like 
 cradles in the blast, and the frightened negroes rushed out 
 of them and huddled together, shrieking, in the open, tree- 
 less space between the houses and the river. It was so dark 
 that hardly the shadowy outlines qf their figures could be 
 seen, save when a flash of lightning lit up the gi'oup with 
 momentary distinctness. The last gleam showed a strange 
 sight — a lovely white face in the midst of all those dusky 
 ones — streaming hair, wild, dark eyes, and a little figure 
 swaying in the wind, as she clung fast to old Margaret to 
 keep from being swept away. She did not see the light 
 that was coming toward them from the house — a lantern 
 borne by a man, who, battling with the wind, could scarce- 
 ly keep his feet as he struggled to approach them. At 
 last he reached the group, huddled and clinging together 
 in front of their shaking huts. The light falling on him 
 revealed the face of Witch ell. A flash showed him Adelle. 
 She stretched out her hands in involuntary aj^peal ; he 
 went to her, gathered around her the shawl she was trying 
 hard to hold, and supported her with his arm. 
 
WILD WORK. 75 
 
 "Are you all safe ?" lie cried, as a lull came in the 
 wind. "I think there is only one of those houses that 
 will go ; the third one, there. Is every one out of it ? " 
 
 " Yes, Cap'n," responded several voices. Then a woman 
 shrieked : 
 
 " Where's ole Granny Betty ? She was in dere, in bed, 
 by de door. She couldn't git out." 
 
 " And she's in there yet ? Good heavens ! she must be 
 got out at once. Quick, boys ! The house will not stand 
 another blast." 
 
 But no one moved. The danger seemed too great. 
 
 "Then I'll go myself — here," he thrust the lantern into 
 the hand of a negro, and rushed into the cabin. At the 
 same moment was heard the sound of the wind returning 
 to the charge, shrieking as it tore through the woods on 
 the opposite side of the river. It came ; it struck the 
 group cowering from it in the darkness ; it hurled its fierce 
 strength against the tottering cabins ; there was a sound 
 of timbers giving way, then a crash of boards and heavy 
 logs. 
 
 "He is killed ! " shrieked Adelle, but that instant a 
 flash of lightning showed her Witchell coming toward her, 
 carrying the old paralytic he had snatched from the falling 
 house. He set her down near Adelle ; there was silence for 
 an instant, then the group sent up a shout of " Hurrah for 
 Cap'n Witchell ; " and the voice of the old negress could be 
 heard in the lull of the storm, mumbling blessings on her 
 preserver. The light of the lantern streamed over her 
 withered form; the rain blew on her shriveled face and 
 gray hair ; her trembling hands were held out as if to ward 
 it off. Adelle snatched off her shawl, and wrapped it around 
 the pitiable figure. Captain Witchell moved forward, as if 
 to prevent her, but he stopped short, and the next moment 
 Adelle felt him throw somethinor over her own shoulders. 
 
76 WILD WORK. 
 
 draw it up about her head, and fasten it around her. It 
 was his coat ; he had tied it in front by the sleeves. She 
 was about to speak in deprecation, when another burst of 
 wind took away her breath. Instinctively, she clung to 
 him, and with his arm around her he sustained her against 
 the wind, that now came mixed with rain. The instant it 
 had subsided, he removed his arm. 
 
 "This blast was less severe than the last one," he said. 
 '^ The worst is over. You can all go back into your houses 
 without fear. Take this poor old woman in, and send to 
 me for some brandy for her. Come, Miss Holman, let me 
 help you to shelter at once. The rain will fall in torrents, 
 now that the wind has lulled. " 
 
 " My brother, Captain Witchell, how is he ? " 
 
 '•^I have good news for you. He is better ; the crisis is 
 past. He is sleeping in spite of the storm." 
 
 Clinging to his arm, she reached the cabin from which 
 she had fled in such fright a short time before. Old Mar- 
 garet followed, and knelt down by the hearth, bemoaning 
 her scattered pots and extinguished fire. Captain Witchell 
 laughed encouragingly. 
 
 "Let me see if I can not soon remedy it," he said, tak- 
 ing some matches from his pocket, and kneeling down by 
 the hearth. In a few moments he had kindled a blaze, 
 and, collecting the scattered brands and piling on more 
 wood from a box in the chimney-corner, he soon had the 
 little room lighted and warmed. 
 
 "Now, Aunt Margaret, you can make Miss Holman a 
 hot cup of coffee at once ; and see that she gets thoroughly 
 dry. I hope she will rest in peace to-night, since her broth- 
 er is out of danger." 
 
 " Out of danger ? Are you sure ?" 
 
 "Yes. Unless he has a relapse, which good nursing 
 will prevent. He had been sleeping an hour when I left. 
 
WILD WORK. 77 
 
 Dr. Mercer says when lie wakes he will be in his right 
 mind. You can go home, and feel little uneasiness. 1 will 
 leaye him with good nurses. 
 
 " Leaye him ? Are you going away ? " 
 
 "Early in the morning. I shall not see him again, if 
 it is as well with him as I believe it is. Dr. Mercer will 
 stay all day with him, and, as I have said, he has two ex- 
 perienced nurses besides. He will not need me. May I 
 trouble you now for my coat ? " 
 
 "Oh! I had forgotten ! And how chilled you must 
 be ! '' Coloring deeply, she undid the knotted sleeves with 
 agitated fingers. He drew the coat on, and buttoned it 
 around his square-shouldered figure. 
 
 "I shall not probably see you to-morrow," he said, "as 
 our roads lie in different directions, but you will receive an 
 account of your brother. Jake will attend you home." 
 
 He ran his fingers through his rain-wet hair and turned 
 toward the door. He was going, and she had not yet said 
 a word in acknowledgment of his kindness. She rose to 
 her feet and faltered : 
 
 " Captain Witchell, how can we ever repay you for what 
 you have done ? " 
 
 He looked down at her, a smiling light in his blue 
 eyes. 
 
 " What I have done is only the duty one human being 
 owes another. If you wish, you can repay it by not believ- 
 ing all the evil you hear of me. Even the devil is not as 
 black as he is painted. And there is one more favor I wish 
 to ask. Do not tell your brother that I was with him in 
 his illness. He was delirious, and did not know me. The 
 negroes will not betray me, nor will Dr. Mercer. Will you, 
 too, keep silent ? " 
 
 " Why should he not know ? " 
 
 "He does not like me — hates me, as you are aware. He 
 
78 WILD WORK, 
 
 will misjudge my motives; and he may tliink himself 
 bound in gratitude to me. I want nothing of the kind. 
 I have done only what humanity prompted, but he and his 
 friends may put a different construction on my actions. I 
 ask you, as a favor, not to speak to your brother or to any 
 one of my being with him when he had the fever." 
 
 ** Since you ask it, I promise not to do so ; but — " 
 
 " That is well. I know I can trust you. Good night ! " 
 
 He was going away without any other farewell, but 
 Adelle stepped closer to him and held out her hand. 
 
 She did not say a word, but her eyes, that were lifted to 
 his, swam in tears, and her lips trembled, and seemed to 
 struggle to speak. He took her hand, bowed over it re- 
 spectfully, and left her. 
 
 When he was gone, she turned her back upon the peer- 
 ing eyes of old Margaret, dropped her face in her hands, 
 and cried heartily. 
 
 Little wonder she was unnerved. The reaction from 
 the terrible suspense of the last thirty hours, the recent 
 fright and exposure, were sufficient to account for her tears, 
 yet they had their source in part in other feelings — a half 
 painful, half pleasurable agitation connected with the man 
 who had just said ''good night" as calmly as if he had not 
 felt that it was good-by for ever. 
 
 A special, unlooked-for circnmstance had brought them 
 into brief association ; it was not probable that any event 
 would again happen that would justify a disregard of the 
 wide barriers that divided them. The two barks had been 
 tossed together for a moment by a storm, and it had been 
 forgotten that they bore unfriendly flags ; but it was only 
 for a moment. 
 
 Their brief intercourse had been outside the temtory of 
 society — outside the world of reality, it almost seemed to 
 Adelle — in some dim region bordering upon dreams. 
 
WILD WORK, 79 
 
 She thought with shame, and yet with a half guilty 
 thrill of joy, of how his arm had held her in the storm. 
 
 Yet, if they should meet again when back in the world, 
 he would not feel it permissible to recognize her, and would 
 she dare by look or word accord him permission ? 
 
 As she sat with her face in her hands, a touch fell upon 
 her arm, and she turned around to see old Margaret hold- 
 ing out a cup of coffee, and eying her with mingled cun- 
 ning and benevolence. 
 
 "I don't want it, thank you," Adelle said, motioning 
 the coffee away. 
 
 " The Cap'n said you must drink it. It'll set you up 
 after the scare and chill you've had. It'll brace you 'ginst 
 de fever." 
 
 She took the cup and drained it of the clear, strong 
 contents. 
 
 "Dere ! I thought you'd do it," the old negress said, 
 the mixture of kindness and malice deepening in her face. 
 ** You'll do what he says. Wliat'd I tell you ? He makes 
 people do like he wants. Dat's his poioer. He puts his 
 spell on 'em. He's put it on you. Dat's why you cry. 
 You don't know it ; but 'tis. You feel like somethin's hap- 
 pened to you." 
 
 ''What nonsense! I cry because I feel unnerved and 
 tired out, and because I am glad of Derrick's safety." 
 
 ''And for somethin' else, too. No need denyin' it. 
 Cap'n Witchell's put his spell on you, and you can't take it 
 off. You'll follow him troo good and bad." 
 
 " You are crazy. Captain Witchell is nothing to me. 
 I shall never see or at least never speak to him again. My 
 people are no friends to him." 
 
 "Don't matter," retorted the old negress, sagely, nod- 
 ding her head. "It's like I tell you. You'll fix your 
 eyes and your heart on him, and he's got his'n fixed yonder 
 
80 WILD WORK. 
 
 ahead on chists of greenbacks and silver, and crowns of 
 gold, and he'll push on after 'em and forgit to look round 
 at de one walkin' at his side." 
 
 *' You old goose !" Adelle said, trying to laugh off the 
 uncanny feeling that came oyer her as she watched old 
 Margaret peer into the fire with her small, keen eyes, 
 while her skinny finger pointed forward as if at some sight 
 she alone could see. *' There are no crowns of gold to be 
 won in this country." 
 
 " Grant, de big president-gineral wears a goldin crown ; 
 I seen it one night ; Witchell's pushing on after one ; gwine 
 to get it too, onless," sinking her voice to a mysterious 
 mutter, '^onless his foot slips up in blood. Yes ; in blood. 
 I saw him one night swimmin' in blood — a river of blood, 
 and he strugglin' and thro win' out his arms, till of a sudden 
 dey both dropped off, and he went driftin' — drif tin' down 
 de current." 
 
 ** Your dreams are wonderful, ti'uly." 
 
 " 'Taint dreams. I see things — ^plain as I see you. Do 
 you want to know how I saw you last night ? " 
 
 She craned her long neck so as to bring her wierd face 
 close to the girl's. 
 
 *'No," cried Adelle, drawing back. ''I think there is 
 no import in your dreams ; but I do not care to hear them. 
 I am tired out. The wind has died down, but how the 
 rain falls ! I will try to sleep." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The time of terror was over ; the scepter of the scourge 
 was broken. The white angel of the frost had descended, 
 and the air was purified of its poison. The refugees came 
 
WILD WORK. 81 
 
 back ; life went on in the homes from which the dead had 
 been carried — in the fields and places that would know them 
 no more. The yellow-feyer time was looked back upon as 
 a dreadful nightmare — a period of confused horror, too 
 painful for thought to dwell upon. 
 
 Before the coming of the frost, Derrick had gone to 
 Mossy Valley to recruit his strength in the pure air and 
 through the nursing and petting he would be sure to get 
 from his mother and sister. 
 
 He had lost color and flesh, but he bade fair to get them 
 back, for his appetite was such as to delight his mother and 
 astonish the old cook. They had never heard at home 
 that he was ill, until the news came in a scrawl in his own 
 handwriting, the first time he had been permitted to sit up 
 in bed. He had made light of his sickness then, to prevent 
 anxiety at home. As soon as he was able to travel in a 
 slow, easy way, the carriage had been sent for him with 
 enough pillows and blankets to smother a dozen young 
 fellows of his size, and with his father, armed with camphor 
 and brandy bottles, to take care of him. 
 
 Adelle's visit to the river had never transpired. Neither 
 her parents nor her brother knew anything of it. Jake had 
 kept silent, and the great package of delicacies he had car- 
 ried back from Malta to the sick man had been a mysterious 
 gift, so far as Derrick's knowledge extended. She had gone 
 back to Malta after leaving the river, and her friends there 
 supposed she had paid a short visit to her parents, and won- 
 dered somewhat, when, only the next day, the Holman 
 family carriage came to convey her home. 
 
 When, upon the first evening of Derrick's arrival at 
 home, as he sat in the big chintz-cushioned invalid's chair, 
 sipping his wine negus, he detailed to his attentive listeners 
 all he could remember of his illness, Adelle discovered 
 that the doctor and the negroes had kept Witchell's secret. 
 
82 WILD WORK. 
 
 Derrick knew nothing of his having been attended, during 
 the most critical period of the fever, by the man whom he 
 hated. 
 
 Several times afterward, the revelation, coupled with re- 
 proof, came near bursting from her lips. It was when she 
 had heard her brother join his father and Lanier in denounc- 
 ing Witchell as a heartless, unscrupulous scoundrel — an 
 adventurer, who cared for nothing so that he mounted to 
 wealth and station over the prostrate rights of the people. 
 
 Such denunciations of the Radical leader were more 
 than usually frequent and severe at present, for Witchell's 
 name was before the people as candidate for the office of 
 State Senator, with almost certainty of election, taking in 
 account his power with his own party and his popularity 
 with the negroes and ''poor whites," together with the 
 opportunities for controlling elections possessed by the 
 *' Carpet-bag Ring," who managed the registration of voters, 
 the balloting at the polls, and the counting of the returns. 
 
 The bitter feeling against the "Ring" had increased 
 among the more aristocratic of the people. There was a 
 class who, with an eye to favor or protection, openly courted 
 the ruling powers, and were ostracized from their own set 
 in consequence ; and yet another class, who truckled to 
 them, but in a sneaking way — obsequious to officiousness 
 when they could be so on the sly, but joining with the ene- 
 mies of the ''carpet-baggers" in abuse of them behind 
 their backs. 
 
 It was a stirring time with Witchell, this eve of his elec- 
 tion and of his removal to his new home, around which he 
 purposed should gather so many lucrative interests, so 
 many important industries — the building up of a town, 
 the conducting of a paper that should absorb the public 
 printing of that section, the erection of a factory, the es- 
 tablishment around him of his relations and connections 
 
WILD WORK. 83 
 
 from the North, who should hold various offices, obtained 
 through his influence, and who should repay him by work- 
 ing for his interests and playing into his hand. 
 
 He carried these schemes, and other plans to which 
 these were only preliminary, in his busy brain, as he went 
 to and from the new plantation he would settle upon in a 
 few months, and as he rode over the country, strengthen- 
 ing his interests here and there, organizing Loyal Leagues, 
 popularizing himself with the laboring class, who, having 
 had fewer interests sacrificed by the recent change in afPairs 
 (they had called the Southern rebellion a rich man's war 
 and a poor man's fight), were far less bitter against the new 
 regime. He kept meanwhile a keen lookout for openings 
 to make money — speculations that promised well, estates 
 forfeited for taxes, that he might buy up cheaply and settle 
 his allies upon ; fine landed properties that might fall into 
 his hands by a mortgage ; or else their owners' influence 
 might be secured in his favor by indulgence granted them. 
 There were plenty such embarrassed estate-owners through- 
 out a country that was groaning under heavy taxes and 
 under the difficulty of controlling negro labor. 
 
 Occupied with these plans and cares, it was not to be ex- 
 pected that the Eadical leader had given many thoughts to 
 the girl he had parted with in the old cabin that stormy 
 night, not quite two months ago. Adelle had seen him but 
 seldom since her return to Malta, and she had met him face 
 to face but once ; then he had ridden on without turning 
 his eyes in her direction, or seeming aware of her presence. 
 
 She was vexed with herself at the pang of disappoint- 
 ment that went to her heart, and at the consolation she 
 drew from the after- thought that the reason he did not speak 
 might have been the fear of putting her in an unpleasant 
 position. There were others with her, and, if he had given 
 her a recognizing bow, and she had acknowledged the atten- 
 
81 WILD WORK. 
 
 tion, her friends would have been shocked at finding her 
 acquainted with him, and annoyed her with questions. He 
 must have noted the haughty, averted face of the tall 
 woman walking with her — dressed in mourning still for the 
 boy-lover who had been killed nine years ago in one of the 
 last struggles of the Southern Confederacy ; and he could 
 have overheard the sneering remark of the gay girl who 
 walked ahead, trailing behind her the coral-berry vine she 
 held: 
 
 *^ Yonder comes the R. E. R." (Radical Rogue and 
 Ringleader) she exclaimed, " mounted on a horse that is by 
 far the better-looking animal of the two ; " and the response 
 of her companion : 
 
 " Wonder where he stole it?" as she tossed up her little 
 nose. 
 
 AVhen such remarks as these were made in her presence, 
 Adelle always felt a quick fear lest somebody would notice 
 the effect they produced on her. She could not keep the 
 flash from her eyes, nor the wounded blood from mounting 
 into her cheeks. Yet she had never owned to herself that 
 she loved this man. The most she had confessed to her 
 heart was that she felt a pity for him in his isolated, ostra- 
 cized position, and that she admired his courage and persist- 
 ence in facing dangers and difiSculties, and keeping calmly 
 in pursuit of his purpose. 
 
 Yet the hope of seeing him had been, half-unconsciously 
 to herself, the motive of her return to Malta. In her se- 
 cluded home at Mossy Valley, in her twilight dreams in the 
 old honeysuckle arbor, and her solitary walks through the 
 Indian-summer woods, she had thought of him continually. 
 She had woven around his image the passion and romance 
 of her fervid nature. The abuse she heard of him on every 
 hand could not impair this secret worship. It only deep- 
 ened the pity that was a strong element of her love. 
 
WILD WORK. 85 
 
 The necessity of concealment was another circumstance 
 that wrought through her imagination upon her heart. 
 Their short, unsuspected association — what a charm secrecy 
 gave to it ! — what a wild, sweet spell it cast over her recol- 
 lection of those days upon the river ! She dared not speak 
 his name aloud ; she breathed it the oftener to her own 
 heart. 
 
 She had kept all the little notes he had written her on 
 the river — those brief bulletins of her brother's condition, 
 penciled on torn-out leaves of Witchell's pocket note-book. 
 She had received one more soon after her return home. A 
 negro, belonging in the neighborhood, had ridden up one 
 afternoon and handed her an envelope, on which she instant- 
 ly recognized Captain Witchell's peculiar handwriting. The 
 negro had refused to give the missive into any other hands 
 than hers, a circumstance which excited the jealous sus- 
 picion of Lanier. He was present, and watched her cov- 
 ertly as she received the letter, and saw that she blushed 
 deeply and turned away to hide her emotion as she read it. 
 It contained only these few lines : 
 
 *' I have just shaken hands with Dr. M . He reports 
 
 our patient out of danger, and fast getting well. As a 
 negro from your neighborhood is here, I take occasion to 
 send you the Doctor's good report." 
 
 Lanier insisted on knowing who had written the letter, 
 and grew angry because she refused to tell him, declaring 
 his determination to find out. He was sullen for days after- 
 ward, but presently Derrick came home, and the cloud 
 seemed to pass away. 
 
 The intercourse of the tacitly engaged pair was much 
 pleasanter when Derrick was with them than when they 
 were by themselves. His presence checked the angry 
 doubts, the passionate declarations, and above all the search- 
 ing questions that poor Adelle could not ans ' ■ r as her lover 
 
86 WILD WORK. 
 
 desired. As soon as frost came, and Derrick returned to 
 the river, she went with him as far as Malta, where her 
 school had already reopened. 
 
 Once more in her little room upstairs, she turned her 
 eyes first of all to that apartment in the next house which 
 could be seen from her west window. But the blinds were 
 closed. Captain AYitchell came now but seldom to Malta. 
 He was often absent in different parts of the country, and 
 he spent days at his place on the Lake, which he had sold, 
 but would not give up until the end of the year. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 It was a festive evening at Malta. The town-hall was 
 wreathed in evergreens, its central chandelier ablaze, and a 
 stage erected at one end. The hall was crowded with the 
 citizens and neighborhood people, who had come to witness 
 a school exhibition, postponed since last summer, and to 
 enjoy afterward a supper furnished by the Academy patrons, 
 and an hour or two of social intercourse ; or, as the printed 
 programme expressed it, "a varied entertainment, by the 
 young ladies and gentlemen of the Academy, comprising 
 recitations, dialogues, charades, speeches, tableaux, and a 
 Political Satire, written by one of our cleverest lawyers, 
 all interspersed with instrumental and vocal music. After- 
 ward, an elegant banquet, prepared by our fair townswomen, 
 and a social reunion." 
 
 Adelle had helped to conduct the rehearsals of the pieces 
 comprising the stage entertainment, and she trusted that 
 Witchell might not be here to listen to them. Several of 
 the original recitations and dialogues contained references 
 to the wrongs of the people and the outrages of carpet- 
 
WILD WORE. 87 
 
 baggers, while the satire was a rather clumsily written but 
 scathing lampoon upon Witchell and Devene — their names 
 slightly disguised, but the allusions too pointed to be mis- 
 taken. Witchell, styled the Prince of Appropriationists, 
 was held up to public hate as a creature without a con- 
 science — a political yampire, fattened by the blood of the 
 people. 
 
 When Adelle had heard this rehearsed in the summer, it 
 had grated on her feelings ; how much more did it do so 
 now, when her heart had gone out to the man it lampooned, 
 and every word spoken against him hurt her like a blow ! 
 
 " Thank Heaven, he is not here," she said to herself as 
 she looked out over the audience from an aperture in one of 
 the little apartments curtained off at each end of the stage 
 as dressing-rooms. But on looking once more, in the middle 
 of the performance of the lampoon, she saw him. He oc- 
 cupied a position at the very back of the hall, standing — for 
 there was scarcity of seats — with his back against the wall, 
 his straight figure and leonine head calmly erect, as though 
 he were not the target of the sneering looks and hisses of 
 the more reckless among the audience, excited by the piece 
 that was being acted. 
 
 His steely blue eyes beat back the stare of the people 
 with cold, proud patience ; his set mouth, his folded arms, 
 his whole attitude, spoke eloquently, not of vulgar defiance 
 or self-assertion, but of a purpose that might not be shaken, 
 and of calm, half-sad endurance. 
 
 Adelle, whose nature was given to idealizing, and whose 
 solitary, brooding fancy had surrounded the man with such 
 a glamour that she saw only his virtues — Adelle, looking at 
 him as he stood there listening to the abuse from the stage, 
 and feeling the many unfriendly eyes turned upon him, 
 thought of a picture she had seen of Christ standing calm 
 and thorn-crowned among the mocking multitude. 
 
88 WILD WORK. 
 
 While this passion of indignant pity was upon her, it 
 came her time to sing. She went out, and, controlling her- 
 self by an effort, gave the opera selection named upon the 
 programme, and, being encored, touched the keys of the 
 piano, and sang that old tender melody of the Irish bard, 
 '^ The Stricken Deer." Never was more fervor given to 
 the impassioned words, 
 
 " I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, 
 I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art." 
 
 She trembled and blushed at her own earnestness — at 
 the passionate impulse that had carried her away. She felt 
 almost as if she had addressed the words to Captain Witchell 
 himself. She dared not send one glance at him to see the 
 effect of her song. In the midst of the applause she arose 
 and quitted the stage. 
 
 Witchell had been on the point of going as she came out 
 to sing her first song. Devene, who had a seat in the win- 
 dow close to where he stood, had touched his arm, saying: 
 
 '^ Come, we have had enough of this, don't you think ? 
 I've stood it 'till I'm boiling over, while you look as cool as 
 Diogenes in his tub. Let's go." 
 
 " Stop," Witchell whispered, for Adelle Holman had 
 taken her seat at the piano, her sweet face pale except for 
 the pink flush slowly spreading in her cheeks. 
 
 Her beautiful arms and shoulders shone like polished 
 ivory through the transparent white material of her dress. 
 He had a sudden, vivid sense of having encircled that fair 
 form with his arms, of having wrapped it in his coat for 
 protection from the storm, of her having clung to him like 
 a child in her terror. 
 
 When she began to sing again in answer to the encore, 
 and to interpret the poet's words in such impassioned strains, 
 he listened absorbed, and his cold face thawed. 
 
WILD WORK. 89 
 
 Devene, leaning toward him, whispered: 
 
 *^She sings that mng.con amove ; I'll be hanged if she 
 don't. The little girl has likely got a sweetheart that's not 
 in the church — a naughty fellow that she's fond of, and her 
 pa objects to." 
 
 Witchell frowned, and when Devene said, *^ That's about 
 the last, I believe. Will you go now ? " he answered, 
 " Not yet. Don't wait for me." And Devene went away, 
 wondering what had come over his chief, that he should 
 take the whim to stay to the '* reunion," after he had ex- 
 pressly declared he would not ; that he only went to hear 
 the " satire " and its strictures upon himself. 
 
 '^I want to show my good friends that I can listen to 
 their compliments without blushing," he had said, laughing 
 in his quietly cjnical way. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Adelle thought Captain Witchell had gone away after 
 the performance. She saw nothing of him in the crowd, 
 nor of Lanier and Derrick, who had promised to be there. 
 But she did not lack admirers in \\qy fiance's absence. She 
 had just left the refreshment room, and returning to the 
 hall had missed her fan, and her attendant had gone back 
 to hunt for it, when she caught sight of Captain Witchell 
 not far from her. 
 
 He was sitting in the recess of a window, apart from 
 the stream of promenaders and groups of talkers. He had 
 a little girl on his knee whom he had lured to him with the 
 present of an orange. He had peeled the fruit and was 
 breaking it apart, listening to her prattle with evident 
 amusement, when a larger girl — a sister of the other, from 
 
90 yVILD WORK. 
 
 the likeness between the two — came looking here and there 
 for the little one, and spying her called to her sharply. 
 
 The child slid from Captain Witchell's knee and joined 
 her sister, who, snatching her hand, said crossly : 
 
 ** Ain't you ashamed of yourself, talking to that maji? 
 That's Captain Witchell. Ma will give it to you for sitting 
 in his lap." 
 
 He overheard the remark. Adelle saw his moustached 
 lip twitch ; then he raised his head with that slight, bitter- 
 sad smile she had seen twice before. His eyes met her 
 own, and the color rushed to his face. He knew that she, 
 too, had overheard the words so smarting from a child's 
 lips. Obeying a sudden impulse, she walked straight to 
 him, and held out her hand. It had not occurred to her 
 what she should say to him, and she uttered confusedly : 
 
 "Captain Witchell, I hardly expected to see you here. 
 You look lonely. Why are you not amusing yourself ? " 
 
 "I have been entertained," he answered. 
 
 He had looked surprised that she should speak to him ; 
 but he took her hand, and the slight pressure he gave it 
 showed that he appreciated her notice. 
 
 " How must I amuse myself ? " 
 
 " Oh, by going to supper or promenading, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 She was only intent on saying something, that the at- 
 tention might soothe the wound his feelings had received. 
 
 " The supper I don't want, and the promenading — who 
 would be my partner ? Even the babies are punished for 
 smiling on me, you see." 
 
 ^- Will I do for a partner?" 
 
 "You ? Are you sure you would not be punished? 
 Look at those horrified eyes turning toward you already." 
 
 " Let them. Captain Witchell, will you promenade with 
 me?" 
 
WILD WOIiK 91 
 
 He looked at her for a second without answering ; then 
 he said : 
 
 *' It was for your sake I hesitated. Nothing conld give 
 me more pleasure," and he drew her little hand, trembling 
 through its glove, within his arm. 
 
 But it was too trying — that ordeal. To walk around 
 the lighted room, the cynosure of all those amazed and 
 scornfully disapproving eyes. She felt faint and sick un- 
 der them. 
 
 *^Let us go out on the piazza," she murmured. 
 
 But there, too, were promenaders. She glanced outside 
 at the graveled walk a step below. The moonlight flung 
 the shadows of the cedars across it ; the air was soft as in 
 May. 
 
 *^ Shall we go outside ? " 
 
 Her look answered him ; he took the light shawl that 
 hung on her arm, and folded it around her. The next 
 moment, the moon was tracing their shadows together on 
 the white sandy space. They walked up and down without 
 interchanging a word. Then Captain Witchell said : 
 
 ** The last time I saw you, the scene was quite different 
 from this. Margaret's old cabin — you in my wet coat in 
 tlie big poplar chair, I on my knees before you, kindling 
 the fire for your coffee. Have you ever thought about the 
 queer picture ? " 
 
 "I have thought of it often, thought of everything 
 that happened then. But that was not the last time I 
 saw you. I met you once here in town — and you did not 
 speak. " 
 
 " But you knew the reason why I did not ? You knew 
 I feared to subject you to ill-natured remarks on my ac- 
 count, as, alas ! I am doing to-night. Besides, I thought, 
 if I spoke, that you would not speak to me in return. 
 
 ^* You thought that ? You thought that, after all you 
 
92 WILD WORK. 
 
 have done for me, I would refuse to speak to you because 
 others who were present would blame me ? Never. If all 
 the world should turn against you and speak evil of you, 
 I will believe in you, honor you, be your friend." 
 
 The girl was utterly unconscious of the fervor with 
 which she spoke, but her looks and tones were a revelation 
 to Captain Witchell. He stopped still, and looked down 
 at her eyes lifted to his, at her hand she had laid on his 
 in her earnestness. He read her secret then ; he knew that 
 this little, pure-minded, country-reared girl loved him, the 
 world-stained man, with a fervor that consumed the bar- 
 riers of prejudice and pride. He knew that the passion in 
 the song she had sung to-night was for him. 
 
 Did the knowledge give him more pain or pleasure ? 
 It was hard to tell. Pleasure came first — the throb of joy 
 that the consciousness of being loved always brings. It 
 was followed by something like a pang at the thought of 
 such love being lavished — wasted, it seemed — upon him — 
 upon one who could give no fit return. She had cherished 
 his image all this while, and he, with his mind busy with 
 schemes of personal advancement, had thought of her only 
 casually, as one remembers the scent or sight of a flower 
 he has seen as he hurried along the dusty highway. 
 
 He had no fresh feelings to match with hers. Once, 
 years ago, he had held a fair woman to his breast, and 
 thought nothing could come between them. But time and 
 absence brought change and estrangement. She grew tired 
 of waiting for the ambitious boy to accomplish what he had 
 planned. She married a wealthier suitor. In the hour 
 that he heard of it, a change came over him. He hardened 
 his heart against women's attractions ; he paid no court to 
 them ; his life was filled with other things, with the hopes 
 and efforts, the disappointments and successes of a man 
 who struggles up from obscurity and poverty. And now. 
 
WILD WORK. 93 
 
 just as he was nerved and stripped for the goal that seemed 
 at last in his sight, the flower he had ceased to hope or care 
 for was flung in his path. Should he take it up ? Was 
 there room in his heart to shelter it ? Had he time to 
 caress it ? "Would it be right for the flower's sake ? 
 Should he ask this girl to turn her back upon her parents 
 and relatives — upon all her friends for him ? Would she ? 
 Yes ; her face spoke for her, but should he accept the sacri- 
 fice ? Should he break up the sweet peace of her life, 
 bring into it dissension, separation from all dear ties and 
 old associations ? No ; he determined no. He would do 
 nothing to encourage this impulse of affection. But her 
 sympathy was balm to him. Looking with grave kindli- 
 ness into her face, he raised to his lips the hand she had 
 impulsively laid upon his. 
 
 "I thank you," he said. '^ I accept your friendship as 
 frankly as you have offered it. I shall never forget your 
 brave kindness to-night — you shall see — " 
 
 His words were cut short by the sound of excited steps 
 behind. Two men were hurriedly approaching. 
 
 " Scoundrel ! " cried Derrick Holman's voice, as he 
 rushed upon them. " Cursed Radical dog, how dare you 
 touch my sister ; how dare you speak to her ? " 
 
 Grasping his sister's shoulder, he dashed her aside, and 
 faced Witchell, his teeth set, his eyes blazing. His clinched 
 hand was upraised to strike, but Adelle flung herself be- 
 tween him and Witchell. She caught the descending arm, 
 she clutched it, and held it with all the strength of both her 
 hands. 
 
 " He did not speak to me first," she said ; ''I spoke 
 to him. I asked him to walk with me. He has done 
 nothing." 
 
 '^ You asked him to write you letters, too, did you ? and 
 send them by his negro allies ? Let go my arm, Adelle ; you 
 
94 TT7ZZ> WOBE. 
 
 have disgi'aced yourself and me enough. Let me go, or I 
 will strike you down." 
 
 ** Do so. Make a scene here, and draw a crowd around 
 us. Break up this peaceful assembly with a disgraceful 
 scuffle. Proceed, you and Lanier, in your fisticuff exhibi- 
 tion. You will soon draw all these negroes into the enter- 
 tainment, and get taken to the lock-up. Yonder are a 
 dozen ladies looking on from the gallery. Have you no 
 regard for their presence ; none for me, or yourself, or for 
 common decency ? " 
 
 Her stinging words had the desired effect. Derrick's 
 face lost a portion of its fierce determination. He wrenched 
 his arm loose from her at last, and roughly pushed her 
 away. To Lanier he said : 
 
 ** Stand back. I told you not to interfere unless I called 
 you. It was my place to thrash this scoundrel for his im- 
 pudence. A horsewhip, if I had it, would do the business, 
 but I don't care to mix myself with his nigger friends in a 
 scuffle, and with women looking on. I'll have it out with 
 him in another way. Witchell, you are not worth fighting 
 a fair fight with, but, as my sister has given you her society, 
 I may as well extend the family condescension. I challenge 
 you to fight with me to-morrow, at what hour and with 
 such weapons as you may choose." 
 
 "I will not fight you, Mr. Holman." 
 
 ** You are a coward, then." 
 
 '* I am no coward, but I will not risk my life in a fool- 
 ish encounter. And, besides, I honor your sister, and I 
 will not injure her by trying to kill her brother or to make 
 him a murderer." 
 
 "You refuse, then, to fight with me ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 *'It's a d cowardly subterfuge," burst in Lanier, 
 
 whom Derrick had, with difficulty, restrained; "you can 
 
WILD WOUK 95 
 
 have no such excuse in my case. I am not the brother of 
 this young lady, that you have such high consideration for. 
 You shall fight me, or I'll tear your Yankee heart out." 
 
 Exasperated by the cool, contemptuous eye that Wit- 
 chell turned upon him, he sprang at the officer like a cat, 
 aiming to seize his throat. Throwing himself back to avoid 
 the shock. Captain Witchell caught his assailant's arm in his 
 powerful grasj), and, seizing his shoulder with the other 
 hand, hurled him to the ground, where he lay stunned and 
 senseless. 
 
 Several men, who from their stand on the piazza had 
 had their attention drawn to what seemed a dispute bidding 
 fair to come to blows, now rushed toward the group, and 
 the negroes hanging around the building came running up 
 excitedly, one of the foremost flourishing a pistol and cry- 
 ing out, " Here, Captain ! here !" 
 
 *' Put it up instantly ! " called Witchell. " Go back and 
 keep quiet, all of you." 
 
 He turned and strode from the spot, till reaching his 
 horse, that was fastened not far off, he mounted and rode 
 leisurely away. 
 
 Lanier was only stunned. He raised himself on his 
 elbow, glared around, and then leaped to his feet. 
 
 ''Where is he ? I'll follow him. I'll have his life for 
 this. Let me go," he cried to Derrick, who had hold of 
 him. But others closed around him, and he was restrained 
 until his anger had partly vented itself in curses, and he 
 was cool enough to listen to Derrick's advice not to make a 
 fool of himself ; that to follow Witcliell was useless ; he 
 would be sure to have his adherents, white and black, close 
 at his heels ; " and you'd have the pleasure of looking at life 
 behind a jail-window, my boy. No doubt, I'll have a black 
 mark of remembrance set down against me for this. One 
 can't resent a personal affront from one of these fellows, 
 
96 WILD WORK. 
 
 without being punislicd for it as a political offense. I am 
 sorry I was so hasty, for my sister's sake," he went on, going 
 up to her and drawing her trembling arm through his. *' I 
 don't blame her. Witchell forced himself upon her, I am 
 sure. He happened to render her an important service not 
 long ago, and now he presumes upon her gratitude and her 
 womanish dislike to hurt feelings. Adelle, shall we go back 
 into the hall, or would you not like better to be taken 
 home ? Your nerves are shaken, you are trembling, poor 
 little girl ! Come, let's go home. Lanier, wait here for 
 me. I want to see you again to-night." 
 
 Adelle knew by the look in her brother's eye that this 
 affectionate address and this exoneration of her from blame 
 were all for a blind. They were to keep down gossip ; for, 
 unlike his reckless comrade Lanier, he had regard for ap- 
 pearances, and he smarted under the thought of his sister's 
 name being spoken in any connection lowering to the family 
 pride. This feeling made him hate Witchell still more, and 
 he reproached Adelle savagely as they walked to her board- 
 ing-house. 
 
 ^* You shall stay here no longer ; I will take you home 
 to-morrow," he said. 
 
 "I have done nothing wrong. I will not go," Adelle 
 answered, pride restraining her tears. 
 
 "You have ruined yourself. This town will be a-buzz 
 with your name in connection with Witchell's. Haven't you 
 sense enough to see what a humiliation that is ? " 
 
 •a don't feel it so." 
 "No ; and you don't feel what a blow it will be to my 
 father, do you ? How disgraced he will feel to find that 
 you have been receiving letters from AVitchell (Lanier found 
 it out), and walking publicly with him — a man known to 
 have insulted your father, and done a thousand dishonor- 
 able things besides. My poor father ! " 
 
WILD WORK, 97 
 
 That strain touched Adelle instantly. She could not 
 bear to think of her father looking at her in anger. 
 
 ''I will go with Derrick to-morrow," she said to herself ; 
 '' I will be the first to tell my father ; I will tell him every- 
 thing, and he will know that Captain Witchell is not the 
 heartless being he thinks him now." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 But, when Adelle reached home the next day, the story 
 had already been told. Lanier's horse stood before the gate. 
 No one came out to meet her except Nero, the old dog that 
 Captain Witchell had protected. The servant she met in 
 the hall looked at her in a shy, troubled way as she said : 
 
 ''They're all in your ma's room. Miss Dell." 
 
 She found her mother in tears, Lanier leaning against 
 the chimney-piece, a dark scowl upon his face, her father 
 walking the floor, his heavy tread and his hands clasped 
 behind his back betokening unusual discomposure. 
 
 She went to him and embraced him, but he did not 
 return the caress. He put her back from him, and looked 
 at her sternly. 
 
 "You have been forgetting whose daughter you are. 
 You have forgotten that your mother is a gentlewoman and 
 your father an honest white man. You have been consort- 
 ing with an insulter and robber of your people. Girl, I 
 did not look for such a mortification to come from you." 
 
 He turned from her, but she clung to him. 
 
 ''Listen to me, father, listen to me, mother," she said, 
 and she repeated the story of her rescue from the flat. 
 She told what she had overheard Derrick say of Captain 
 Witchell's interference to prevent the negroes, at the insti- 
 
98 WILD WORK. 
 
 gation of the bully Yent, from falling upon the handful of 
 rioters, among them Derrick and Lanier, who had come to 
 break up the meeting of the Loyal League. She told even 
 of WitchelFs kindness to old Nero, and she hinted at a yet 
 greater service he had done for Derrick, for them all, which 
 she was not yet permitted to speak of. When they knew 
 this, they would feel that Captain Witchell's magnanimity 
 was not mere impulse. Did they not know of his kindness 
 to poor people, and why should all those good acts be ignored 
 and the man branded so mercilessly ? Then she told of the 
 unsparing lampoon directed against him, which he had 
 listened to at the exhibition, and of the child's words that 
 had hurt him so. 
 
 As she talked with one arm around her father's neck, 
 and her face close to his, his expression changed, his look 
 grew softer. 
 
 *' Tut, child," he said, " don't talk to me of Witchell's 
 magnanimity. Cold-blooded policy, every bit of it. He 
 wants to make himself as strong as he can. Every dime he 
 spends on the poor is a seed planted, from which he expects 
 a harvest of good for himself. But I see you have not been 
 so much to blame as I thought. It was only that soft, piti- 
 ful little heart that was in the wrong. You were grateful 
 to him, and sorry for him. It was weakness ; I looked for 
 more firmness and consistency from you. But you will be 
 more guarded in future ; you have now done enough, and 
 more than enough, to satisfy your idea of gratitude. You 
 will not allow him to speak to you again, I am sure." 
 
 It was half an assertion, half a question, and his eyes 
 looked searchingly into his daughter's. But she said low, 
 yet with firmness : 
 
 '* Father, I shall never refuse to speak to Captain Wit- 
 chell. I shall always esteem him ; I shall always be his 
 friend." 
 
WILD WORK. 99 
 
 '^ Say at once that you love him, that you are engaged 
 to him," cried out the sharp Yoice of Lanier, who had been 
 listening to Adelle from his stand by the fireplace, watch- 
 ing her with a yellow, cat-like gleam in his black eyes. 
 " Why do you not say that ? " 
 
 ^^ Because it is not true. Captain Witchell has never 
 uttered a word of love to me." 
 
 " Never written one, I suppose?" Lanier said, leaving 
 his post and coming close to her. 
 
 ''Never." 
 
 '' Will you tell your father and brother what were the 
 contents of that letter Witchell sent you through one of 
 his negro emissaries ? " 
 
 *'A letter ! What does that mean, Adelle ? Is it possi- 
 ble Witchell has written to you ? " 
 
 '' A few lines only, father. It was only to tell me about 
 Derrick's recovery." 
 
 " What had he to do with that ? And why did you hide 
 what he had written to you ? " 
 
 "I will tell you hereafter. I must see him first, and 
 ask him — " 
 
 " See him ! By the God above me, you shall never see 
 him again. Listen to me. If I ever hear of your com- 
 municating in any way with that scoundrel, I'll fling you 
 out from my house, as if you were a snake that had crawled 
 into it. I will disown you forever ; and your mother there 
 shall never speak to you again. Do you hear that ? " 
 
 She bowed her head, but did not speak. " If you have 
 done, I will go to my room," she said, after a silence, 
 broken only by a sob from tender-hearted Mrs. Holman, 
 who could not bear to hear her darling scolded, though 
 feeling that Adelle had really done a dreadful thing. 
 
 '' Go ; but remember that what I have said I will abide 
 by." 
 
100 WILD wore:. 
 
 The next day and the next were days of gloom. Adelle, 
 although her own heart was sore, tried to bring some bright- 
 ness into the house ; but in vain. Coldness and melancholy 
 met her efforts to please. Her father hardly noticed her ; 
 her mother sighed, looked at her reproachfully, and, when 
 she spoke to her, used an aggrieved tone. Derrick avoided 
 her. He had not returned to his river farm, but he was 
 seldom in the house. His mother said plaintively that she 
 was afraid Derrick was about to get on one of his sprees 
 again. Trouble'and fret were apt to make him drink. He 
 was nearly all his time at Lanier's now ; and Lanier, poor 
 fellow, was drinking, no doubt. He had enough to drive 
 him to it. 
 
 Adelle had not spoken to Lanier since the evening of 
 her return home. Whenever she caught sight of him, gal- 
 loping up the avenue with Derrick, she shut herself in her 
 room. The erratic movements and disordered appearance 
 of both gave color to her mother's fears that they were "on 
 a spree." Lanier always kept the best liquors in the old- 
 fashioned sideboard at his bachelor home, but it was rarely 
 that he drank to excess. 
 
 There seemed to be some unusual pressure upon the two 
 men. On the third morning after her return she saw them 
 riding up with two other young men, as reckless-looking as 
 themselves. They dismounted, came in, and followed Der- 
 rick to his room. Presently she heard successive reports of 
 a pistol. They were firing off a charge out of the window. 
 
 Half an hour afterward she sat in her room — a pretty 
 little apartment down stairs, open to the orchard and gar- 
 den. She was sitting by the window, her book dropped in 
 her lap, her thoughts far away, her arm lying on the win- 
 dow-sill, with the hand dropped listlessly outside. Sud- 
 denly she felt some one grasp her hand ; she turned quickly. 
 Startled, she saw Lanier's dusky face and bloodshot eyes 
 
WILD WORK. 101 
 
 close to her. He stood on the ground outside, his chest on 
 a level ivith the frame of the low window. 
 
 "Where is the ring you once wore upon this hand — our 
 engagement ring ? '' he asked hoarsely. 
 
 "It was not an engagement ring ; I never considered it 
 one ; " she said, trying to withdraw her hand. 
 
 " It was — and you know it. What have you done with 
 it?" 
 
 " It is in my box ; I will get it for you, if you will loose 
 my hand. " 
 
 He loosed his grasp, and she got up and brought the 
 ring. As she dropped it on his palm he asked : 
 
 "Will you let me put it on your finger ?" 
 
 "Not if it means engagement; I am not engaged to 
 you. " 
 
 "You lied to me, then." 
 
 "I did not. I never promised to marry you. I tried 
 to love you for my parents' sake. Once I thought I did 
 love you ; I knew better afterward, and tried in every 
 way to let you see my feelings. I ought to have told you 
 plainly." 
 
 "You knew better, I suppose, when you fell so madly 
 in love with some one else. That cursed Witchell is at the 
 bottom of this. You have broken faith with a gentleman 
 — the son of your father's best friend — to fling yourself at 
 the head of a Yankee poltroon." 
 
 "Eichard Lanier, I will not listen to your insults. Go 
 away ; I will close the window." 
 
 He dashed the ring to the ground. 
 
 "There goes all my belief in women, curse them ! I'll 
 care for none of them from this out. I'll care for nothing 
 but to make them I hate feel my sting. That I'll do. I'll 
 have revenge. You'll hear from me, you saint-faced piece 
 of falseness." 
 
102 WILD WORK. 
 
 Casting a look of fierce menace upon Adelle, lie flung 
 himself away from the window. 
 
 '* Lanier, Lanier ! " she called, in anxiety that was almost 
 terror. But he did not look back. A few moments after- 
 ward she saw him riding away from the house at his usual 
 reckless speed. 
 
 Directly after, her brother and his two companions came 
 out of his room. They were flushed and excited. One of 
 the young men carried Derrick's repeating gun, and Adelle 
 caught sight of navy pistols under Derrick's coat. 
 
 *' Going hunting, boys ? '' asked Mrs. Holman's quaver- 
 ing treble as they passed her door. 
 
 *^ Yes, mother, we're after game," called back Derrick, 
 with a discordant laugh. 
 
 " What'll you do for the hounds ? Nero and Bull are 
 with your father at the mill." 
 
 "We won't need the dogs." 
 
 "You're going to still-hunt, then ?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, we're going to still-hunt," Derrick an- 
 swered, with another laugh that sent a cold shiver through 
 Adelle. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Twilight was settling over the prospect of russet fields 
 and woods upon which Adelle looked as she sat by her 
 window, having hardly changed her position since she 
 watched, from this post, her brother and his companions 
 riding down the road an hour ago. The crimson streak 
 the sunset had left on the cloudless sky had darkened into 
 a dusk red, almost the hue of the autumn woods with 
 which it blended. 
 
 The twilight was becoming gloomy in Adelle's room. 
 
WILD WORK, 103 
 
 Btill slie did not light her lamp or close the window, out 
 of which her eyes went in a far look that seemed to rest 
 upon the rim of a distant hill. 
 
 Suddenly the line of her vision was broken. 
 
 A head popped up above the window-sill — a sandy- 
 haired, sallow-faced head, with abundant freckles and two 
 small, ferret eyes. She started back, and the figure waved 
 a deprecating hand. 
 
 '* Miss Dell, don't be scared, it's only me — Piper. I've 
 got something to tell you. May I come in ? " 
 
 She recognized a waif, who had found lodgment for 
 two years past on Lanier's place, where he did odd jobs 
 about the house and yard, and received victuals and clothes, 
 and kind words or cuffs from his employer, according as it 
 suited Lanier's capricious mood. His caprice could not 
 affect Piper's dog-like devotion to him, and the boy was as 
 meek after receiving a sound cursing as if he had been lis- 
 tening to his praises, though he was spiteful to the negroes, 
 who disliked him and imposed upon him. 
 
 Adelle had done him a service once. She had released 
 him from a steel trap that had clamped him as he was rob- 
 bing her father's melon patch. She bound up his wound 
 and kept his secret. He never forgot it, and had more than 
 once declared that he would fight for her to the last drop 
 of his blood ; an assertion which Adelle, who had seen him 
 take to his heels when assaulted by a turkey gobbler, had a 
 right not to rely upon. 
 
 " Come in," she said, feeling a presentiment that she 
 would learn something connected with the uneasiness that 
 had been weighing upon her since hearing Lanier's words 
 and noting her brother's reckless looks and laughter. 
 
 The slim, lank figure sprang nimbly over the window- 
 sill. 
 
 " Lock your door, Miss Dell ; I am afraid somebody will 
 
101 WILD WORE. 
 
 see me. I come through the orchard. I knowed I could 
 git to your window by stoopin' down as I run through the 
 shrubbery, 'thout any them pryin' niggers seein' me." 
 
 Adelle locked the door, and came back to him. 
 
 " Now, Piper, what is it ? " 
 
 '^Promise me you won't let nobody know what I'm 
 goin' to tell you. Miss Dell." 
 
 "I can't promise that until I know what it is I am to 
 hear." 
 
 ''Well, will you promise not to tell who told it to 
 you ? " 
 
 "Yes ; I think I can promise that. Go on." 
 
 ''Well, it's jes' this. There's goin' to be bloody doin's 
 'twixt now and sunrise, and I'm mighty sorry Mr. Eichard 
 and your brother Derrick's got a hand in it, for they'll git 
 hurted, sure." 
 
 " What do you mean ? Piper, tell me at once ! " 
 
 " I wiU. You see, I've noticed Mr. Richard's been actin' 
 curus ever sence he come back from Malta. He's all the 
 time on the go, and nothin' pleases him, and he's fonder'n 
 ever of bringin' me to my senses, as he calls slingin' the 
 tongs or the blacken-bresh atter me. Then, I reckin, 
 'tween him and Mr. Derrick, I've had to fill up the whisky 
 bottle a dozen times. I couldn't make out what was to 
 pay, but las' night it come out. Two more fellows come, 
 and atter eatin' supper and empty in' the bottle twice, they 
 set down in Mr. Richard's room, where I was makin' a fire. 
 Soon's 'twas burnin' Mr. Richard told me to go out and go 
 to bed, and then he locked the door. That put me up to 
 listenin', and what does I do but go in the next room and 
 git down on my hands and knees by the partition where 
 there was a crack in the plasterin' betwixt the chimney and 
 the wall, and I puts my car to the crack and hears every 
 word they was talkin' about, I did." 
 
WILD WORK 105 
 
 "What did you hear?" 
 
 *'Why, them four is goin' to-night with masts oyer 
 their faces to Captain Witchell's house on the lake, and 
 take him and Devene and hang 'em high to a tree. That's 
 it ; I heard Mr. Richard tell the whole plan to them others 
 they had sent for to come and go with 'em. He said Cap- 
 tain Witchell wouldn't fight fair, and didn't deserve to have 
 a white man fight fair with him nohow ; and so they'd just 
 take law in their own hands and give him the hangin' he's 
 been earnin' for these many months, and Devene with him ; 
 and 'twould be a good riddance for the country and a right 
 and just act. That's how they put it." 
 
 **Why did you not come and tell me of this at 
 once ? " 
 
 " Well, 'twas in the night then, nigh on to ten o'clock, 
 and I aimed to come nex' mornin'. But what must Mr. 
 Richard do but set me the bigges' kind o' task o' thrashin' 
 peas, and I've been hard at it all day ; jest got through 
 when they rides up, and I gits Bob to take the bosses to 
 water and pull the saddles off, while I runs over here as 
 fast as my legs could carry me. I come to you bekase I 
 thought the squire would interfere if he knew what was 
 goin' on ; or you might work on your brother, and git him 
 to give it up. It's no use tryin' with t'other one. Mr. 
 Richard is dead bent on devilment. . I see it getherin' in 
 him ever so long. See that fresh scar on my head ? He 
 give me that day before yesterday for just little or nothin' 
 (give me a vest, good as new, nex' day to smooth over my 
 feelin's), but I declare I thought he was goin' to kill me, 
 his eye flashed so. It done the same las' night ; I seen it 
 through the crack, when one of the men laughed, and said : 
 ' You're so hot after Witchell, Lanier, bekase he cut you 
 out.' You ought to seen Mr. Richard jump at him, and 
 your brother had to part 'em an' make peace, and then he 
 
106 WILD WOEK. 
 
 said to the fellow : * Never do you dare to 'lude to my sister 
 in such connection agin. She's got nothin' to do with this 
 affair. We're goin' to rid the country of a blood-sucker 
 (with a cuss word in between, Miss Dell), that's all. To be 
 sure, one of the many scores I've got against him is his pre- 
 sumin' to speak to my sister, but that's my business, and 
 no—'" 
 
 " Stop, Piper," interrupted Adelle, who had listened in 
 pale distress while the boy, tugging at the patch on his old 
 jacket, delivered himself of his information. ''At what 
 time to-night do they aim to make the attack ? " 
 
 '' Late. After midnight, I think ; jes' before day. I 
 heard Mr. Eichard say that was the time sleep was soundest 
 and niggers was hardest to wake. They was 'fraid the 
 darkies on the i:>lace might interfere." 
 
 " Then we will have time to warn him. Piper, you will 
 go, I know. You can ride my horse, and I will pay you 
 well. Piper. You know where Captain Witchell lives. 
 You were with us the time we had the fish-fry on the lake, 
 and camped near Captain Witchell's place." 
 
 "No ma'am, I wasn't. I had fever un ager, and never 
 went. But, if I knew where he lived, I dassent go there 
 to-night." 
 
 ''Why?" 
 
 " Why, Miss Dell, Mr. Richard'd miss me, sure. He'd 
 come upon me, or he'd find out about me goin', and he'd 
 hang me then, certain. 'Sides, I wouldn't go 'way there at 
 night by myself for the biggest bag of money Captain 
 Witchell's got. I never could go about at night. I'm 
 scared to go back home now, close as 'tis, and it not dark 
 yet. I must go right away." 
 
 " Stop, Piper ! For my sake, I beg you to go. You will 
 not be found out ; nothing will hurt you ; I will stand be- 
 tween you and harm. I will write a note, and help you to 
 
WILD WORK. 107 
 
 get off without any one finding it out. And you shall have 
 ten dollars. Piper." 
 
 *' Miss Dell, I'd do it for the love of you without your 
 money — ef I could. But I dassent. I know Mr. Eichard 
 'ud find it out. He always finds out everything I do wrong. 
 Ile'd run upon me ; and there'd be somethin' worse'n that 
 scar on my head. He'd break every bone in my skin. I 
 oughter be back home this minnet, to feed them horses. 
 Miss Dell, do you want me to carry any word to your broth- 
 er ? — somethin', you know, that won't let on about my havin' 
 told you anythin'. You 'member your promise. 
 
 "Yes, there is something you must tell Derrick for me. 
 Tell him to come to me at once ; that I am sick ; that I 
 have just heard bad news, and want him immediately. Tell 
 him to come right away, Piper." 
 
 "I will certain, sure. Miss Dell," the boy said, as he 
 jumped out of the window like a cat, and took his way 
 across the orchard. He meant to do as he said ; but, on 
 reaching home, he was met by his irate master, who rated 
 him roundly about having carried pff the corn-crib key, and 
 not being there to feed the horses at the proper time, and 
 Adelle's message was quite frightened out of his head. 
 When it came to his recollection, he was afraid to deliver 
 it to Derrick, lest Lanier should find out what it was and 
 suspect him of having eavesdropped and given information. 
 
 Meantime Adelle waited with agonized impatience for 
 her brother to come. She forced herself to sit down to the 
 early tea, and to eat a few mouthfuls and talk as usual. 
 Her father seemed in better humor than he had been for 
 some time. He even said to her at the table : 
 
 " Come in after a while and read me a chapter of Liv- 
 ingston's " Life." The print is too fine for my eyes." 
 
 The thought came to her : 
 
 " I will tell him. It is possible, he may use his influ- 
 
108 WILD WORK, 
 
 ence to preyent this crime. He never would restrain Der- 
 rick in anything he did against the Eadicals. Now, it will 
 be worse, since he thinks he has a fresh cause of hate to 
 Captain Witchell. But I must, I will tell him. If Der- 
 rick does not come in fifteen minutes, I will tell my father 
 and implore him to prevent this wicked murder." 
 
 She went out on the piazza and walked up and down, 
 stopping often to listen if she could hear the tramp of an 
 approaching horse. But no such sound came to her strained 
 ear. The clock struck eight. She turned and went into 
 her father's room. She found him comfortably settled in 
 his favorite arm-chair, smoking his pipe, that he always 
 emptied of tobacco before going to bed. Her mother was 
 nodding softly over the stocking she had been knitting. 
 
 '^ Wake up, mother ! " said the old gentleman, touching 
 her cap-strings ; *^ here's Adelle going to read something 
 about Livingston's tribulations in the land of apes and 
 snakes, hyenas and Africans — the last, the worst beasts of 
 all. And a nice time he had trying to Christianize these 
 cannibals ! I wish every Yankee and Radical was there 
 in the middle of Ujiji. They'd have their fill of their 
 sweet pets then." 
 
 This was an unfortunate beginning; Adelle's hopes 
 sank almost to zero, but she had determined to make a 
 trial. 
 
 "Father," she said, '^ there are other barbarians besides 
 the Africans, and other people who commit crimes besides 
 the Radicals. What would you think of a party of men 
 falling upon a helpless man in his sleep, dragging him out 
 of bed, and hanging him to a tree without judge or jury — 
 would not that be a crime ? " 
 
 "It depends upon who the man might be that was 
 hanged. If he was some carpet-bagging tyrant stained with 
 sins against the people, who had no other way of redress 
 
WILD WORK. 109 
 
 than by punisliiiig him themselves, because law and justice 
 had ceased to be, then I say let him hang. But what are 
 you driying at? Some particular case, I sujipose, from 
 your pointed question. What is it ? " 
 
 'at is this, father. Captain Witchell is to be fallen 
 upon to-night and murdered, and my brother and Lanier 
 will be chief assassinators ? " 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 '' I know it ; I need not tell you how I heard it, but it 
 came direct — " 
 
 ''I don't believe it." 
 
 '^t is true, father. Derrick came this afternoon and 
 got his gun and pistols. father, send for him ; go to 
 him, forbid his doing such a crime." 
 
 " I'll do nothing of the kind. Derrick's of age and can 
 take care of himself. If there's anything in this big mare's- 
 nest that you have discovered, it's only that the boys want 
 to tar and feather the rascal, and he deserves that, and 
 hanging besides." 
 
 '^s it possible that you would be willing to let my 
 brother commit a murder ? " 
 
 " Murder, indeed ! Do you call freeing the land from 
 a Radical vampire a murder ? " 
 
 " Father, listen to me. Only let me tell you what Cap- 
 tain Witchell has done for Derrick. Last September, 
 he—" 
 
 "Silence, and go away from me, Adelle ; I am sick of 
 that villain's name ; you shall not call it in my presence 
 again. If Derrick gets into any difficulty about him, you 
 may blame yourself. You are the cause of all this trouble. 
 Go." 
 
 He pushed her from him, and when she turned to her 
 mother, who had begun to cry, he sternly ordered her from 
 the room. 
 
110 WILD WORK. 
 
 Slie went ; her heart swelling with misery, but her eyes 
 dry, her brain throbbing, active, her purpose to save Cap- 
 tain Witchell unshaken. She would go to the negro quar- 
 ter and find some one that she might hire to take him the 
 warning in time. She ran rapidly along the path that led 
 to the quarter, situated at the foot of the hill on which the 
 dwelling-house was built. The night was clear ; there was 
 a glory of stars overhead ; later, there would be a moon. It 
 was profoundly quiet ; the sound of a horse stamping in 
 the stable not far off sent for an instant a thrill of joy 
 through her veins. She thought it was Derrick coming at 
 last. Oh, if he would only come ! She thought she might 
 influence him, if she could see him alone ; she might work 
 upon his feelings and induce him to give up this wicked 
 project ; but to go there — ^to Lanier's house, with Lanier 
 and those other men all heated by drinking — to seek him 
 there would be madness ; it would only inflame his anger 
 against her, and strengthen his purpose. 
 
 She reached the quarter, a long row of log cabins in a 
 grove of hickory-trees. In the days of slavery they had 
 all been occupied, but now, with the exception of three or 
 four, they had fallen into dilapidation — the pig-pens, the 
 chicken-coops, the little gardens that had been wont to ex- 
 hibit rows of the inevitable long-legged coUards, were no 
 more ; the shutterless doors gaped wide, and the dirt chim- 
 neys had fallen. 
 
 Into one of the cabins, whose curling smoke gave token 
 of habitation, Adelle entered. She found a negro woman 
 patching a ragged garment while she sang a hymn and 
 rocked a baby to sleep with her foot upon the rocker of the 
 rude pine cradle. Another child lay stretched before the 
 hearth asleep, his head nestled close to a sleeping hound. 
 The dog waked and barked, the woman looked up and saw 
 Adelle, rose and courtcsicd. 
 
WILD WORK, 111 
 
 '' Where is your husband, Phillis ? " 
 
 " Gone over de creek to de sugar-bilin' on Dr. "Winstor's 
 place, Miss Dell." 
 
 "Where is Ben, and Miles, and Harry ?" 
 
 "Gone dare, too. Ebery hand on dis place gone, wim- 
 min and all, 'cept me and Sis Silvy, and Mag and Aunt 
 Kate." 
 
 "When will they come back ?" 
 
 " Dey went 'bout sundown ; can't come home till day- 
 break, case de creek so full it's dangersome to cross it at 
 night." 
 
 " Then you couldn't go there after Willis for me." 
 
 " To-night ! Law sakes ! Miss Dell. It's three miles, 
 and, if the creek warn't up, I'd be 'fraid to go, anyhow. I 
 never travel about any of nights 'thout there's men-folks 
 with me." 
 
 "Would Silvy go?" 
 
 "Silvy's sick a-bed, and you know Mag wouldn't stir a 
 step out of de house at night to save life. She was born 
 wid a caul over her head, and she sees sperits and gits scared 
 outer her wits. I'm mightly sorry they'se all gone. What 
 f er did you want Willis, Miss Dell ? " 
 
 " To take a note to a friend away off ; but I see I must 
 try some other plan to get it carried. Good night, Phil- 
 lis." 
 
 And baffled once more, but still resolute of purpose, she 
 hurried back to the house, revolving in her mind what 
 could be done. There seemed now but one alternative. 
 She must herself take the note to Captain Witchell, warning 
 him of the attack that would be made that night. She 
 ought not, anyhow, to trust a messenger less interested 
 than herself. Such a one might prove treacherous, or he 
 might be too slow, or he might take too little heed and lose 
 his way. Negroes especially were not to be relied upon. 
 
112 WILD WORE. 
 
 *'No/' she said, as she drew near the house, ''I must 
 go myself. At nine o'clock, father and mother will be in 
 bed ; I can saddle Bayard and get away without any noise, 
 and I can ride to the lake in two hours, or two and a half 
 at most. But oh ! if I should be seen on the way — if I 
 should be found out — what would become me ? what would 
 be said of me ? My reputation would be lost for ever. 
 And, if some negro or lawless tramp should attack me in 
 one of the deep woods and lonely places I will have to pass 
 through — spring out and grasp my bridle-rein, and drag 
 me from the horse, as I have heard so often of their doing. 
 Oh ! I can't risk it ; I can't go ! But can I not risk some- 
 thing, sacrifice something to save a life — to save his life ? 
 I will. I will disguise myself in some of Derrick's clothes ; 
 that will guard against the worst danger. Captain Witchell 
 will not know me ; I will send the note in to him. He will 
 not even see me. But I must hurry — hurry ; it must be 
 nearly nine o'clock. I hear father locking the front 
 door." 
 
 She met him in the hall as she passed on to her room. 
 He looked hard at her, but did not speak. She heard him 
 lock the back door and return to his room. When she 
 heard the click of the bolt, she opened her own door and 
 slipped out, and stole across the entry to Derrick's room, 
 where she possessed herself of a dark suit of clothes belong- 
 ing to him. Returning across the hall, she took down the 
 stable key that hung there on the wall. Once more in her 
 room, she secured the door, and wrote, as legibly as her 
 trembling hand would allow, a note that ran in this wise : 
 
 *' Captain Witchell : An attack will be made on you 
 to-night. Four men will come, between midnight and day, 
 for the purpose of taking your life. Guard against them, 
 but avoid bloodshed. For the sake of the friend who warns 
 
WILD WORK. 113 
 
 you, kill no one of them. It would be best to leave the 
 house secretly, and take refuge in some unsuspected place. 
 To do this would be a wise precaution against violence. 
 
 '^ A True Friexd." 
 
 This written, she hastily dressed herself in Derrick's 
 clothes, that fitted her sufficiently well, buckled a strong 
 belt around her, in which she thrust a little repeating pistol 
 that her mother had worn as a means of protection during 
 the troublous days of the civil war, threw around her a 
 black talma and fastened it securely by its tasseled cords. 
 Her long hair she bound up and tucked under a velvet rid- 
 ing cap of her own, from which she had torn the plume, 
 that it might look like a man's cap. Putting the note and 
 the stable key into her pocket, she approached the open 
 window, and, after listening intently for a moment, noise- 
 lessly dropped herself down to the soft flower-beds a few 
 feet below. 
 
 The stable was almost back of the house. She reached 
 it, unlocked the door, and, going in, soon found, despite 
 the partial darkness, bridle and saddle hanging in their ac- 
 customed places, and put them on her pet horse. Bayard. 
 
 '* You and I have work to do to-night, old fellow," she 
 whispered in his ear, as she led him from the stable. She 
 dared not take him to the road by the ordinary outlet. 
 It ran too near the house on that side where her father's 
 room was situated. So she led him through a gate on the 
 other side of the house, into the orchard and across it ; then, 
 by letting down a low fence, she had him close to the road, 
 fifty yards past the house. There, in a little thicket of 
 pine saplings, she mounted into the saddle, and rode slowly 
 until she descended the hill and the house was out of sight. 
 Then she quickened her horse's gait, and rode with a firm 
 pace through the silence. In the first deep-shadowed hoi- 
 
114 WILD WOA'K. 
 
 low she caught her breath iu fear, for she heard steps be- 
 hind her. She looked and saw nothing, until, on mounting 
 the unshaded crest of the hill, she saw a dark object trot- 
 ting behind her. 
 
 "Nero," she called, and a pleased whine answered her, 
 as the dog ran forward to the side of the horse. 
 
 " I am glad you came, old boy ; you are some protection 
 anyway, though I shouldn't have dared to call you." 
 
 She rode on ; her father's fields were passed. The die was 
 cast. She had set out on a strange, wild errand ; it might 
 save the life of the man she loved : it might cost her more 
 than life. But she threw fear away from her as she rode, 
 till Lanier's house came in sight. It sat back some distance 
 from the road in a grove of oaks, but a broad walk led down 
 to a gate that opened almost upon the road. What if Lanier 
 or Derrick should be sitting there on the fence, smoking 
 their cigars in the starlight, as they were fond of doing ? 
 They would recognize the horse, the dog, and through these 
 herself. She would have ridden around to avoid going 
 near the house, but there was a high fence on the other side 
 of the road. There was nothing for her to do but to ride 
 straight on at a quiet pace. She hardly breathed as she 
 passed the gate, but no one was there. The sound of a 
 loud laugh reached her ear as she passed, and, in the light 
 that came through the windows, she caught sight of dark 
 figures standing and moving about on the gallery. She 
 reached the end of the lane, and was about to urge her 
 horse to greater speed, when suddenly the animal started ; 
 the dog gave a sharp bark ; she thought she heard a rustle 
 in the woods close to her on the right. She looked in that 
 direction fearfully, but her eye could not penetrate the 
 gloom. She saw nothing — unless — could that be some dark 
 object hiding behind the great oak tree close to the end of 
 the fence ? 
 
WILD WOEK. 115 
 
 '' On, Bayard ! " she said, low, to her horse, and away he 
 sped. Lanier's farm was left behind, and she breathed 
 more freely. On and on — over hills, and down into hollows 
 threaded by streams that babbled under the shadows. The 
 loneliness of the road, the calmness of the night, began to 
 give her courage. She ceased to start when a twig crackled 
 under her horse's feet, or the night-prowling raccoon, 
 skunk, or 'possum rustled the fallen leaves of the wood. 
 
 It grew late ; the lights were out in the few farmhouses 
 she passed. The face of the country had altered ; she was 
 sure her journey was more than half ended ; and yonder 
 was a gibbous moon rising and gleaming through the trees. 
 She struck a match, and looked at her watch. Eleven 
 o'clock. She had been an hour and a half on the road. In 
 less than a hour more her mission would bo accomplished, 
 or it would have failed. If nothing happened, she would 
 be in time ; iie would be saved. 
 
 But what of her return ? Might she not meet Lanier 
 and the others on her way back ? She would not think of 
 it. When she heard them coming, she could ride out into 
 the woods until they passed. She would not let the thought 
 of it disturb her yet. The night was cool, the air fresh, 
 the skies brightening overhead, her horse still in excellent 
 wind. Upon each height he ascended, his mistress merci- 
 fully slackened his speed. Once she was resting him for a 
 moment on the crest of a hill, when she saw him prick for- 
 ward his ears and seem to listen. She herself listened and 
 heard a sound like that of a horse galloping on the road far 
 behind. ' Was she pursued, or were they coming already 
 to do their work of death ? Again she listened. Yes, un- 
 mistakably she heard that sound, like the quick, steady 
 strokes of a horse's hoofs upon the hard earth. 
 
 Off she started again, putting Bayard to his best mettle. 
 Away, through strips of denser wood, into deeper hollows, 
 6 
 
116 WILD WORK. 
 
 past richer fields white with opening cotton, stopping only 
 once to listen for that sound and hearing it again, but more 
 faintly. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 At length the last hill was passed. She descended into 
 the Lake Swamp ; the undergrowth vanished. Great tree- 
 boles rose like the masts of a giant vessel ; huge vines swung 
 from them like the ropes of the ship. The light of moon 
 and stars only here and there flickered through the umbra- 
 geous gloom. For the first time the chill of the night 
 struck through her veins, and she shivered with cold and 
 fear. 
 
 ^' Nero," she called, to break the silence that frightened 
 her. The dog answered by a reassuring bark. 
 
 At last she came upon cleared fields, and caught a gleam 
 of the lake lying under the moon. She looked to the right. 
 There should be a path here leading to Captain Witchell's 
 house. Ah ! here it was, and yonder the glimmer of a 
 lamp at an upper window of the house. Now the outline 
 of the building was seen, dark against the sky. Two min- 
 utes more, and, with wildly-beating heart, she drew rein 
 before the gate of the low fence that inclosed the yard. 
 Light streamed through a half-opened window ; she saw a 
 man standing by the fireplace ; she heard a voice speak, 
 and another one reply. At the same instant her ear caught 
 the tramp of an approaching horse. She must lose no 
 time. Summoning all her courage, she called out hoarsely, 
 "Halloo!" 
 
 A man came to the window ; the spare, straight figure 
 was Captain Witchell's, and it was his voice that demanded : 
 
WILD WORK, IIY 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 " To see you a moment." 
 
 "Won't you come in ?" 
 
 "jS'o ; I must go back at once." 
 
 "Very well, Til come." 
 
 "Better not, Captain," said Devene's voice. "Be on 
 your guard. This might be a stratagem to get you out for 
 no good." 
 
 "There's only one man; I'm a match for one man,. I 
 think," said Captain Witchell, carelessly, as he came out. 
 He walked directly to the paling where Adelle sat trem- 
 bling on the horse, the velvet cap pulled over her face, the 
 note in her hand. She held it out to him the moment he 
 came within reach, and, fearful of being recognized, was 
 wheeling her horse to ride away, when Captain Witchell 
 asked : 
 
 "Is any answer needed ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 She could not keep her voice from trembling ; she felt 
 that his keen eye was upon her. She did not know that in 
 trying to hide her face with the cap she had drawn it too 
 far from behind, and that a tress of her long hair had es- 
 caped. He saw it in the moonlight. 
 
 " Do you come from Malta ?" he asked, with a view to 
 hearing her speak again. 
 
 "No. Good-night." 
 
 While she spoke, a horseman had ridden up. He could 
 not be the one she had heard behind her. This one came 
 from another direction. He was a negro, riding* Captain 
 Witchell's noted horse. 
 
 "The doctor wasn't home. Mars Witchell," he said* 
 " Be home by daybreak ; I lef word for him to come right 
 on. Is Sampson any worser ? " 
 
 " No ; I've just been down to the cabin to see him. Go 
 
118 WILD WORK. 
 
 there, and make sure his wife gives him the medicine I left. 
 It is time now for him to take it. Fasten Zep where he is, 
 and leave him for the present ? " 
 
 Adelle heard this colloquy as she rode away. With one 
 look at her retreating figure Witchell hurried up to his 
 room and read the note. One instant his brow contracted 
 in thought, then he rose with an air of decision, glanced 
 from the window, and saw in the dim moonlight the dis- 
 guised messenger nearing the end of the path that led 
 through the cleared meadow, and about to enter the woods. 
 
 He threw the note over to Devene. "We are to be at- 
 tacked to-night, you see. Get the guns and pistols from 
 the armoire yonder ; load them up. Call up Ben and Joe 
 Harris from the quarter ; make them fasten up doors and 
 windows, and watch in the hall. I'll be back in time for 
 the reception. I'm going to follow that messenger and find 
 out something more." 
 
 " For God's sake, Witchell, don't go out by yourself in 
 that way ! You may meet them any moment. It's madness 
 to expose yourself\So." 
 
 " I'm not afraid. I'll be back directly." 
 
 *' You are not going unarmed ? Here, take my pistol, 
 at least." 
 
 " I have my stick ; I'm all right. Don't be exercised 
 about me. Go back, and do as I told you. ' 
 
 Mounting the horse that stood at the gate where he had 
 directed the negro to leave him, he was soon clattering at 
 full speed down the road, determined to overtake Adelle, 
 whom he had recognized from that truant tress, as well as 
 from the voice she had vainly tried to disguise, and from 
 the glimpse he had of oval cheek and delicate chin under 
 the slouched cap. He felt how much she had risked for 
 his sake ; he could not let her ride back alone and unpro- 
 tected. He would follow her, and, without betraying that 
 
WJZI) wo UK. 119 
 
 lie knew lier, find some pretext to ride with her, or at least 
 so near her as to be at hand if any danger befell her. 
 
 She had already left behind her the road through the 
 moon-lighted, cleared space, and entered into the shadowy 
 swamj?. Fears began to assail her lest she should meet 
 some of the wild clan who might be coming to reconnoiter 
 the spot where they meant, later, to do a lawless deed. 
 What had become of the horseman she had heard following 
 her when she was on her way to carry the warning ? 
 
 Her horse was begimning to show signs of fatigue. She 
 patted him encouragingly. The swamp road was not so 
 gloomy as it had been when she rode there half an hour be- 
 fore. The moon had risen higher — gleams of light pene- 
 trated the frost-thinned boughs of ash and hackberry. 
 
 Nero, running ahead, began to sniff the air suspiciously. 
 Suddenly he uttered the sharp bark that betrays a near pres- 
 ence. Adelle's horse stopped and threw his head around, 
 A man on horseback emerged from the woods, and rode 
 straight to her. Her first impulse was to turn and gallop 
 back to Witchell's house, or at least to the open meadow 
 beyond these dark woods. She wheeled her horse around, 
 but the man was already alongside. His hand grasped her 
 bridle rein. 
 
 ^^ Off with your visor, Sir Knight," cried Lanier's mock- 
 ing voice, as he struck off her cap and sent her long hair 
 tumbling about her shoulders. 
 
 He laughed hoarsely. 
 
 '' Let's have a better view." 
 
 He struck a match across his saddle bow and held the 
 blaze close to her. It showed him a face pale as death ; 
 the lips firm, but the dark eyes dilated like a startled deer's. 
 A wilder fear leaped into them when she saw his look. A 
 sinister gleam gloated in his blood-shot eyes. Eage and re- 
 venge, fevered into delirium by liquor, glared close to her 
 
120 WILD WORK. 
 
 in that bluish light. She saw, with a shudder, that she had 
 to deal with a man beside himself. 
 
 *^ Brave knight/' he began, tauntingly, but his Yoice 
 dropped to a hissing whisper as he leaned close to her ear, 
 '^ I saw you, I knew you, and followed you. I would have 
 caught up with you and spoiled your fine purpose, if this 
 cursed beast had held out as he ought. So you've warned 
 your precious lover. He's ready for us yonder, is he, with 
 his guns and his nigger guard ? You've spoiled our game. 
 Do you think you shall not pay for it ? You shall. You 
 shall pay dearly for this, and for having played your tricks 
 upon me — fooled me, and cast me off for this Eadical hound. 
 He shall never have you ; no one shall ever have you, nor 
 care to. You shall be a mark for scorn — Aha ! that's 
 your game, is it ? " 
 
 He caught the pistol he had detected her in drawing 
 from beneath her cloak. He tried to wrench it from her 
 hand, but her slim fingers seemed all at once to be steel. 
 Suddenly, she let go the weapon. He had released his hold 
 upon her bridle in the struggle, and a word and a quick 
 blow made her horse bound forward in the direction in 
 which she had wheeled him in her first fright — the direc- 
 tion of the lake and of Witchell's house. 
 
 Before Lanier had recovered from his surprise at this sud- 
 den movement, she was some distance ahead. He dashed 
 the bloody spurs into his horse's flanks, and started in pur- 
 suit. She was going to Witchell to seek protection from 
 him. He would follow her ; he would kill them both. 
 Kage and jealousy maddened him. He was not a brave 
 man. Cool resistance could back him down in a little 
 while ; but he had a species of impetuous frenzy when pas- 
 sion or strong drink, or both combined, heated his blood. 
 
 He gnashed out a curse when he saw her approaching 
 the clearing. 
 
WILD WORK, 121 
 
 *' Sfcop, or ril shoot/' he called out to her. Directly he 
 heard her utter a cry of joyful surprise ; he saw a man riding 
 toward her, meeting her ; he heard her excited exclamation, 
 '' Captain Witchell ! Thank God r' 
 
 On hearing that name Lanier experienced an inyolun- 
 tary check. A portion of his mad impetuosity died out. 
 Whenever an animal, whether brute or man, has once been 
 whipped, he afterward, in the presence of the superior 
 power, instinctively recognizes his master. Lanier felt a 
 burning rage against his rival, but his nerves also gave 
 token that they remembered that good blow Witchell had 
 dealt him once. While he hesitated to proceed, he heard a 
 horse approaching from behind. He turned, and gave a 
 peculiar whistle ; it was answered in kind, and a moment 
 after Derrick rode up beside him. 
 
 "Lanier," he demanded, "what the deuce did you mean 
 by slipping off in this way, letting nobody know when you 
 left?" 
 
 "I had reason to think that news was being carried to 
 Witchell. I came to reconnoiter. I expected to have gone 
 back before this. Where are the others ? " 
 
 " Coming on behind. You took that notion to recon- 
 noiter very suddenly. What have you found out ? " 
 
 "That it's all up as to our plan to surprise them. 
 Witchell got hold of it." 
 
 " How the devil could that be ? Who knew of it but 
 ourselves ? " 
 
 "One other found it out. Love's eyes and ears are 
 keen. It was your sister that gave warning to Witchell. 
 She rode here by herself, dressed as a boy, and went to his 
 house." 
 
 " Adelle ! my sister ! to Witchell's house ! Take that 
 back, or you shall repent it." 
 
 " It's true ; you can see for yourself. Yonder they are ; 
 
122 WILD WORK, 
 
 she was coming back, he riding with her. They have dis- 
 mounted, I see, for some cause.'* 
 
 Derrick looked, and saw two horses and two figures 
 standing in the moonlight, just beyond the edge of the 
 swamp, nis comrades, Verne and Wylde, were just riding 
 up. He turned to them. "Yonder's my man," he said; 
 **I have an account to settle with him. Don't interfere 
 with me. I want neither help nor hindrance." 
 
 He spurred his horse in the direction in which the two 
 were standing — Adelle leaning against a tree to support 
 herself ; "Witchell standing by, holding her hand, and look- 
 ing at her with deep concern. At the instant when, flying 
 from Lanier, she had met Captain "Witchell and stretched 
 out her hands to him with that cry of joy, she had felt her 
 brain whirling and her strength failing her. The fatigue 
 and anxiety she had undergone, the terror, the feeling of 
 relief succeeded by the sudden sense of shame, were too 
 much for her. She reeled in the saddle, and Captain Wit- 
 chell reached her side barely in time to prevent her falling. 
 But she did not faint. A dash of dew from a broken bough 
 in the hands of Captain Witchell revived her. She gently 
 pushed him from her, and leaned against a tree for support ; 
 she hid her face in the dark mass of her hair, and sobbed 
 in shame and distress. He looked at her, and hesitated. 
 Then he ventured to lay his hand upon her arm. 
 
 ^•'MissHolman!" 
 
 She dropped her hands from her face and wrung them 
 passionately. 
 
 ^' Captain Witchell, what must you think of me ?" 
 
 '* That you are a brave and true woman, Miss Holman. 
 That in all probability I owe my life to you." 
 
 *^ Your life !" she cried suddenly, brought to a recol- 
 lection of his danger. " Captain Witchell, tliey may take 
 your life here at any moment. They will fall upon you 
 
WILD WORE. 123 
 
 here, and you have no help, no defense. That was one of 
 them you saw following me just now. Where is he ? He 
 is only waiting for the others to come up to attack you. 
 Captain "Witchell, go at once. Eide to a place of safety, or 
 get into your house and arm your friends. Go ! " 
 
 **I will not leave you. Miss Holman. Let me help you 
 to mount your horse. How cold your hands are, and how 
 you tremble ! Do not be afraid any more. I will not leave 
 you ; I will ride with you to your home." 
 
 *' But you — it is you who are in danger ! I tell you they 
 will be upon you in a few moments. There ! do you not 
 see them yonder ? They are coming this way. Heaven ! 
 that is Derrick. " 
 
 As her brother leaped from his horse, she sprang to 
 meet him. She saw that he held a pistol in his hand, and 
 that his face was white and rigid witli determination. 
 
 ''0 Derrick, listen to me !" 
 
 He pushed her aside, and pressed on to where "Witchell 
 stood. 
 
 ** Villain, your time has come," he cried, raising the 
 weapon. 
 
 Before he could take aim Adelle threw herself in his 
 arms and clung to him. 
 
 "You shall not, you shall not kill him," she cried. 
 Derrick, he saved your life ! He cared for you while you 
 were so ill with the fever. He watched you day and night 
 when you were delirious. He got the doctor to come to 
 you — the negroes to wait upon you. You would not kill a 
 dog that had saved your life. Derrick. " 
 
 '^No thanks to him for my life. Better be dead than 
 dishonored. A villain who has ruined my country, and 
 now has taken away the good name of my family. Curse 
 him ! Nothing can keep me from having it out with him 
 now. Get away from me, girl." 
 
124 WILD WORK, 
 
 *' Derrick, for my sake — " 
 
 '^ Your sake ! Yours ! What are you to me now ? A 
 wretch that has disgraced me. What are you to me any 
 more after this night's work ? Get away with you — out- 
 cast." 
 
 These cruel words staggered her worse than blows would 
 have done. She loosed her hold of him, and tottered back. 
 Witchell stepped quickly to her side ; he put his arm around 
 her ; facing her brother, he said : 
 
 "You shall not speak to her in this way. You may 
 abuse me as much as you please, but you shall not say such 
 words to my wife." 
 
 "Wife ?" echoed Derrick, the pistol he had half raised 
 dropping to his side in his astonishment. 
 
 " My wife that shall be to-morrow. She had a right to 
 do what she has done to-night for my safety. Derrick 
 Holman, listen one moment to common sense. You need 
 be in no hurry to shoot. I am unarmed and have no one 
 in call. Hear me a moment first. In your mad passion 
 you would only burn your own house. You would kill me 
 and fix a stigma on your sister. That is not necessary. 
 You say that after to-night she shaU be an outcast from 
 your home ; she shall be received in mine as my honored 
 wife. Is not this better for her — for you and your parents 
 — than if you killed me and left her no refuge ? If her 
 brave devotion to-night is to draw reproach upon her, let 
 me forestall it by a marriage. 
 
 " A marriage with a Radical carpet-bagger ! That would 
 be a fine amendment," Derrick said, with an acrid sneer. 
 
 Captain Witchell bit his lip hard. He was controlling 
 himself by an effort, for the sake of the girl by his side. He 
 answered calmly : 
 
 "It might hurt your pride; it would not hurt your 
 honor. I am considering her first. You may disclaim her, 
 
WILD WORK. 125 
 
 but would you not prefer to know that she was happy ? 
 Have you not so much natural affection for one of your own 
 blood?" 
 
 The appeal had its effect upon Derrick. 
 
 His real love for his sister, his pride in her good name 
 and in the good name of his family, the knowledge of Cap- 
 tain Witchell's past kindness, the sense of his generosity and 
 fearlessness on the present occasion, all operated to influence 
 his action. He stood looking at the two for an undecided 
 moment, then he thrust his pistol back in its place, and 
 without a word was turning to remount his horse, when 
 Adelle caught his hand, and looked beseechingly in his face. 
 
 " Derrick, put all this enmity out of your heart," 
 she pleaded. "Be friends with Captain Witchell." 
 
 " Friends ! Have you lost your senses, girl ? I trust 
 to GK)d I may neyer see his face again. Marrj him, go with 
 him, but remember that afterward you have no brother, no 
 father, no mother — you have only liim. Remember that — 
 and be happy — if you can." 
 
 He mounted his horse, then turning as if a thought 
 struck him, he said to Adelle : 
 
 *' Get into your saddle. I can not leave you here. I 
 am going now to send those others on. I shall be back for 
 you directly." 
 
 He rode off and rejoined Lanier and the others, who had 
 waited where he left them, wondering greatly at hearing no 
 report of a pistol, or other signs of combat. 
 
 " There is nothing to be done," he said gloomily. " I 
 can not kill my sister's husband. Eide back. I will follow 
 you in a little while. Lanier, let me speak a word in your 
 ear." 
 
 Between the two he had left there was silence for a mo- 
 ment. Adelle's bosom swelled with conflicting feelings. 
 At last she turned to Captain Witchell : 
 
126 WILD WORK. 
 
 " Why did you say that ?" she said; "■ I will not have it 
 so. There can be no marriage." 
 
 He answered gravely : ^'I hoped otherwise. I know it 
 was presumptuous to infer your consent, but I thought it 
 for the best. The circumstances were such — I thought — " 
 
 *' You thought I would shelter myself from blame by 
 marrying a man who — " 
 
 **AVhom your family hate, whom your friends vilify, 
 who is misunderstood and maligned. It teas too much to 
 expect." 
 
 She had sat down upon the trunk of a fallen tree ; her 
 face was turned from him. 
 
 *^No, it is not that," she said, low. '^That was not 
 what I meant to say ; I mean that I will never consent to 
 take what was offered in generous pity. I will bear the con- 
 sequences of my own act. I came here to-night through a 
 good motive. I dressed this way because I thought it would 
 protect me from insult. If I lose friends and home because 
 of it, let them go. The world is wide, and I can find — " 
 
 Her voice broke and a sob came. He sat down by her. 
 He put his arm around her. 
 
 *^So the world is wide, and you can find a nest some- 
 where, httle dove ? Why not in my arms ? Why do you 
 refuse to come to me ? " 
 
 *'Do you think I do not know you said that to my 
 brother only to shield me ? I will not make it true ; I will 
 not accept such a sacrifice." 
 
 '* You will not marry me ? " 
 
 ^^No." 
 
 " Not if it is no sacrifice ? Not if I love you ? " 
 
 " But you do not love me." 
 
 He drew her to him. "Not love you ? IIow could I 
 help loving you ; brave, kind little heart, tender eyes, sweet, 
 true mouth ? " 
 
WILD WOEK. 127 
 
 He put back the hair from her face, and kissed her wet 
 lashes, her cheeks, that lost their paleness under the rush 
 of burning blushes. 
 
 " Will you marry me now ? " 
 
 There was no answer, but she did not draw away from 
 him. 
 
 *' Do you not love me, Adelle ?" 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 *' But not well enough to see parents and friends and 
 the little world around you turn their backs on you for my 
 sake?" 
 
 '' You are all the world to me," she whispered, hiding 
 her face against his shoulder. 
 
 He was silent, gently caressing her soft hair. He felt 
 that he had the destiny of this girl wholly in his hands. 
 She was his to the heart's core, to make happy or miserable, 
 as he chose. 
 
 Presently he said : ''I will go for yqxi to-morrow ; will 
 you be ready to come with me ? " 
 
 ''Yes, but— " 
 
 " What is it ? 
 
 " If I could be married in my father's house." 
 
 "That rests: with them; we will see. Let me put you 
 upon your horse now. I hear your brother coming. Wrap 
 your cloak well around you ; it is growing cold." 
 
 He lifted her to a seat in the saddle and stood by her 
 until Derrick rode up. 
 
 "I have a word to speak to you, Mr. Holman," he said, 
 going up to the young man as he sat in the saddle. Der- 
 rick nodded haughtily. 
 
 "I wish to marry your sister to-morrow. She prefers 
 that it should be at her pwn home. It is best, for other 
 reasons." 
 
 " Under my father's roof, sir ? Never." 
 
128 WILD WORE, 
 
 " He is also her father. She has been a beloved daugh- 
 ter, a dutiful one, except in one instance, where she obeyed 
 the promptings of her heart. She has certainly a right to 
 as much consideration for her feelings as a marriage under 
 her father's roof would imply. But it matters little. A 
 marriage anywhere else will be as well." 
 
 '* Stay, sir ! Come to my father's house prepared to 
 make Adelle Holman your wife. Bring your witnesses ; 
 you will find none there who will witness this marriage." 
 
 " Very well." He turned to Adelle. 
 
 '*Does this please you ?" 
 
 She gave him her hand in silence. 
 
 ^* Come," called her brother, sharply. 
 
 They rode away, leaving Witchell standing there in the 
 moonlight, looking after them, feeling almost as if all had 
 been a dream. Could it be that in a few moments so great 
 a change had taken place in the future he had mapped out 
 for himself ? To be married in a few hours — married to 
 the daughter of his bitter enemy — a girl of whose nature 
 he had had only glimpses, of whose more hidden and subtile 
 traits of character he knew nothing. Could he make her 
 happy ? All that money or kindness could do should be 
 done to supply the place of what she must lose through 
 him. As for love — " 
 
 But how sweet her face had looked in the moonlight 
 when he had lifted it to kiss her. The eyes that shone 
 through tears, the red lips that quivered so, the little, deli- 
 cately molded chin, the white neck under its veil of hair ? 
 How her heart had throbbed against his ! And that little, 
 earnest, thrilling, yet timid, whisper : 
 
 " You are all the world to me." Its remembered pathos 
 touched his heart. 
 
 " I will try to be all to her. She shall not miss the love 
 of father and mother, and the society of friends," he said, 
 
WILD WORE. 129 
 
 as lie stepped upon the piazza of his house/ He had almost 
 forgotten the plotted attack. The bolted door and barri- 
 caded windows reminded him of it. He knocked on the 
 door, calling out : 
 
 ^atisl; open." 
 
 Within, a dim light was burning. Three negro men 
 with guns in their hands stood there, looking at him in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 '' Go home, and to bed," he said. '^ There is to be no 
 attack ; I have settled it. " 
 
 They asked no questions. They were accustomed to 
 think Captain Witchell could do whatever he wished. 
 They believed he bore a charmed life. He had been in 
 danger so often— shot at, threatened by mobs— without 
 harm coming to him. 
 
 Devene was not so easily satisfied. " What did you do ? 
 How did you settle it ?" he asked, when they were alone in 
 their room. 
 
 ''I saw the ringleader, and induced him to forego his 
 fun for to-night. Instead of being hanged, I am only to 
 be—" 
 
 '' What ? " asked Devene, in suspense. 
 
 '' Sit down. Take a cigar, and hand me one. What, 
 only one o'clock ! How many events can crowd into a lit- 
 tle hour ! " 
 
 He stirred the rich bed of wood coals and threw on a 
 fresh pine-knot. Then looking across at his companion 
 through a cloud of tobacco-smoke, and smiling in his pe- 
 culiar way, he said : 
 
 " Devene, you must put off your trip to N ; I want 
 
 you to go to Colonel Holman's with me to-day. I am to 
 be married." 
 
130 WILD WORK, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The slant afternoon snn was shining upon the little 
 riverside town of Cohatchie, upon the white cottages with 
 bright green blinds, the new brick stores, side by side with 
 w^ooden shanties, and the cupola of the really handsome 
 court-house. The town had the irregular appearance that 
 marks a new place, but the bales of cotton piled before the 
 warehouse, and the amount of freight in boxes and barrels 
 which a steamboat, petulantly puffing at the landing, had 
 just discharged, told of thrift and business. 
 
 Captain WitchelFs scheme in this direction had suc- 
 ceeded. The new parish had been created, the new court- 
 house erected, the new town built up rapidly around it, 
 drawing the produce and trade of the rich alluvial region 
 above and below it, and of the thrifty *^ Hills" lying at its 
 back. Witcheirs town bade fair to become of considerable 
 importance. His plantation was two miles above it and on 
 the opposite side of the river — an ample, old-fashioned 
 house in a grove of trees with broad fields lying back of it 
 and stretching along the river on either hand. Having 
 perfect control of the negroes, he could, through their labor, 
 make these level, fertile acres yield the splendid returns of 
 cotton that had brought their former owner a princely in- 
 come in slavery days. 
 
 Various industries which had sprung up about the plan- 
 tation under Captain Witchell's management bore evidence 
 to his New England activity and enterprise. A mill with 
 the most improved machinery turned out lumber and ground 
 the plentiful grain of the neighborhood, a well-stocked 
 storehouse furnished customers, mostly the negroes be- 
 longing to the place and to neighboring plantations, with 
 provisions and other merchandise suited to their wants ; 
 
WILD WO UK 131 
 
 various offices and outbuildings gave a village look to the 
 place ; a printing-press, almost in the very yard, absorbed 
 the public printing, and turned into Captain Witchell's 
 hands the public money appropriated therefor. 
 
 These industries, circling more immediately around his 
 home, were carried on at the same time with outside enter- 
 prises of a broader scope. • Contracts for the erection of 
 public buildings in the new county site he had created ; 
 the improvement and sale of lots therein ; the buying in 
 and turning to good account of real estate sold for taxes or 
 for debts ; the extension of his influence with the people 
 of the section and with his party at large ; these schemes 
 fully occupied the time and brain of the energetic member 
 of the State Senate. They were regarded by him as merely 
 the beginning of greater things. 
 
 He was becoming rich and influential — he was paving 
 the way to greater power, to more extended opportunities 
 of building up a vast fortune. He confided his plans to no 
 one, not even to Adelle, devoted wife as she was, making 
 him her loving but painful study ; nor yet to the members 
 of his own family, whom he had gathered around him and 
 made sharers in his prosperity and strengthen ers of his 
 position. Two of these were his brothers-in-law — young 
 men, full of hope and activity, eager to make their for- 
 tunes, but fully under the control of Witchell, whose ex- 
 perience and firm will gave him perfect mastery over them. 
 He had obtained an office for each of these. Mark Hollin 
 was appointed supervisor of registration, and settled with 
 his pretty, fair-haired wife upon a plantation below Co- 
 hatchie which Witchell had bought for him. Wallace, 
 the husband of another sister, was made a magistrate, 
 and given also the supervision of the numerous interests on 
 Witchell's estate. 
 
 Both were prepossessing young men, calculated to make 
 
132 WILD WORK. 
 
 friends for themselves and Witchell, and to wear off gradu- 
 ally the edge of aversion with which the Eadical ring was 
 regarded. But the one upon whom Witchell relied most 
 was his only brother. Yousg Omar Witchell was not brill- 
 iant, nor was he masterful like his elder brother. Reserved 
 in general society, though to his friends he talked with a 
 candid almost childish earnestness, quiet in manner and 
 grave of face, except when he smiled ; tall, dark, deliberate 
 of speech and action, impressing you with the idea of a 
 kindly, unsuspicious, loyal nature — this was Omar Wit- 
 chell ; as unlike the ordinary type of New-Englander as one 
 can imagine, and the direct opposite of his brother, who 
 with his incisive eye, sanguine color, thin lij^s, and firm 
 chin, seemed born to sweep away obstructing circumstances, 
 not to be patient under them. 
 
 But there was hardly a being in the world that Marshall 
 Witchell believed in as he did in this quiet young brother. 
 
 It was not wholly a selfish gratification in having secured 
 a trustworthy assistant that made him so delighted when 
 welcoming Omar to his new home. As he folded the young 
 fellow in his arms, the night when he stepped from the 
 steamboat upon the soil of the stranger country, it was a 
 pure emotion that stirred under the worldliness that in- 
 crusted the elder man's nature. A tenderness almost pater- 
 nal thrilled in his voice, as, putting his hands on Omar's 
 shoulders and looking into his clear eyes, he said : 
 
 " Old fellow, it does me good to see you. I hope, Omar, 
 you'll do well here. I believe you will, or I shouldn't have 
 got you to come. I trust you may never have cause to re- 
 gret it." 
 
 Omar Witchell had been appointed tax-collector, and 
 on this sunny afternoon he sat in his office at Cohatchie. 
 The breeze came in at the open window and stirred the 
 dark locks on his temples, and freshened the two or three 
 
WILD WORK. 133 
 
 flowers that bloomed in a little glass beside him as he sat 
 leaning his elbow on his desk, and resting his chin in the 
 hollow of his hand in a brown study. He did not hear the 
 rap of a cane on the threshold of his open door, and looked 
 up in some confusion as a finely-formed man, with a keen 
 eye, but a look of beneyolent humor about his mouth, 
 tapped him upon the shoulder. 
 
 *^ I beg your pardon, Judge Pickenson. I did not see 
 
 you.- 
 
 '^N"o-; your thoughts were oS wool-gathering. How 
 far, eh ? No farther, I imagine, than a certain cottage 
 where I saw somebody sitting at the window as I came 
 along." 
 
 " Oh, a good deal farther, sir. ' Over the hills and far 
 away.' It's not often I get homesick, but to-day some- 
 thing — the scent of these flowers, may be, or the look of 
 the white clouds piled up yonder — ^has set me to thinking 
 of the mountains, and longing to see them." 
 
 ''The mountains, or the maid of the mountains? — 
 ' The girl I left behind me ? ' " queried the Judge, play- 
 fully. "But really, Omar, honor bright, how do you like 
 our folks here in Dixie ? " 
 
 "Better than they like me, I am afraid. I have two 
 or three good friends here, but the others — ^when I come 
 where they are — seem to freeze up as if I carried an arctic 
 atmosphere along with me. They look at me as if they ex- 
 pected me at any moment to develop some sinister aspect." 
 
 " The horns and hoofs of the Old One, probably." 
 
 " That hurts me, you know. I don't like to be looked 
 upon with suspicion. I feel very friendly toward the peo- 
 ple here. They seem so pleasant with each other ; all the 
 more I hate being left out in the cold. But I hope I may 
 succeed in making them like me yet." 
 
 "I think you will. They have thawed wonderfully to 
 
131: WILD WORK. 
 
 you. They have been badly treated, no doubt about it, and 
 still have deep grounds for grievance. I have run on your 
 party ticket, Omar, partly because I had bitter need of the 
 income the office would bring, for my children's sake, but 
 more because I hoped to do some good by restraining on 
 one hand and conciliating on the other ; but, for all that, I 
 don't endorse the present policy of the Government toward 
 my country. It's founded on ignorance of our people's 
 wants and dispositions, or on revengeful disregard of their 
 rights ; but come ; don't let's talk about any such crabbed 
 thing as politics this lovely afternoon. I hope all will 
 con^e right after a while. I think things would right them- 
 selves slowly here in this district, if there wasn't a secret, 
 disturbing influence beginning to work just now. Some- 
 thing is brewing, mark my words. And disappointed ava- 
 rice is the leaven of the ferment. Some men that have been 
 loudest in denouncing Captain Witchell's plundering, as 
 they call it, are mad as Lucifer because they can't get his 
 chance." 
 
 "What has my brother done to make them denounce 
 him so strongly. Judge Pickenson ? " 
 
 ** Oh, no more than others in the same position have 
 done and are doing. He has carried out the policy of his 
 party with regard to upholding the negro, and he has made 
 use of the opportunities his position gave him to enrich 
 himself." 
 
 ''Legitimate opportunities, of course ?" 
 
 Judge Pickenson evaded the young man^s questioning 
 eye, and went on : 
 
 '' Others right here are precious anxious to secure the 
 same opportunities, or el^en to go shares in what they are 
 pleased to call the spoils — Democrats and leaders of tlie 
 opposition though they pretend to be. You know Colonel 
 Alver ; what do you think of him ? " 
 
WILD WORK 135 
 
 *' He seems polite, and even suave, of late. But there 
 seems every now and then a false ring in his voice, and his 
 cold blue eye contradicts his friendly speeches. But this 
 impression may be unfounded and unjust." 
 
 *' No ; it is nature's warning. It tells you to be- 
 ware ! " 
 
 " By the way, I have an invitation to a little party at 
 his house to-night." 
 
 " So have I ; and it's funny. He hates me like poison, 
 because I succeeded in getting the office I hold ; he hates 
 Witchell, and has until lately openly abused him. Awhile 
 back, he would not speak to any member of the Radical 
 party ; now he has suddenly grown friendly. I guessed the 
 secret before I saw your brother last Friday ; I found out 
 from him that Alver has been making overtures in a deli- 
 cate way. He wants to be admitted into the ring of the 
 * Plunderers.* He is anxious to get in, and asks a small slice 
 of the booty. By and by, he would want the lion's share. 
 He is a tyrant by nature. The position he had as head of a 
 regiment in the late war pampered this love of ruling men 
 and overriding them. Then he came here, when this little 
 town first began to grow. He put up a store, and went into 
 business. He aimed to monopolize all the trade — to make 
 himself the big man of the town — the Great Mogul. The 
 Lisson Brothers also put up a store at the other end of the 
 town. Their real cleverness drew better than Alver's surface 
 politeness. Trade flowed chiefly to the Lisson end of the 
 town. "When Witchell was ready to build the new court- 
 house, each rival party put in a bid to get it built at his end 
 of the town. The bids were in lots ; Messrs. Lisson outbid 
 Alver in the number and desirability of lots they offered 
 Witchell as inducements to erect the court-house on their 
 portion of Cohatchie. It was built there, the warehouse also 
 put there ; and a friendly relation, some say a business un- 
 
136 WILD WORK. 
 
 derstanding, was established between the Lissons and Wit- 
 chelL This drew the negro trade — an important item here, 
 where darkies handle so much money — to Lisson's store — 
 the quarter that Captain Witchell seemed to favor. There 
 grew up two factions, and it was ' under which flag, Bezo- 
 nian ? speak, or die ! ' Alver and his clique were hot 
 against Lisson and his friends — the Radical ring, as they 
 called them. The Lissons shrugged their shoulders in 
 good-natured contempt. You saw plenty of all this, Omar, 
 after you came. Lately, you must have remarked a change. 
 Alver has altered his tactics. He has grown mild, almost 
 affectionate. The secret is that next year there will be an 
 election, and Alver means to make a desperate effort to get 
 into the ring he pretends to scorn. He has made numerous 
 friendly advances to Witchell in private ; now he comes out 
 openly and extends the hand of amity. He wants to receive 
 something besides good- will in return. You will see him drop 
 the sheepskin and show the true wolf when he is refused 
 admittance into the fold, as he is sure to be, for Witchell 
 understands him. He will take no man into association 
 with him, overbearing as he knows this one to be. When 
 Alver finds out there is no use to knock any longer at this 
 door, look out for a change of strategy. He will return 
 to his old position, and be a more bitter opponent than 
 ever. He will be more cunning and cool though, and work 
 with more system. He will try to undermine ; he will set 
 secret wheels to work ; he will not rest until he has wrought 
 mischief." 
 
 Omar looked down on the floor ; his face was clouded. 
 
 "The game does not amuse or even interest me," he 
 said. '*It seems wrong and mean. I trust no harm will 
 come to Marshall. I am sure my brother's aims are good. 
 He looks forward. He means to do what he can to restore 
 the people to prosperity. He will spend the money he has 
 
WILD WORK. 13T 
 
 mude right here in enterprises for the public good. How 
 he made the money, I have not asked him. I don't under- 
 stand the mysteries of finance or politics. I don't compre- 
 hend the secrets of trading and speculating ; Marshall does. 
 He has a head for all these things ; and then he has a heart 
 — you do not know what a heart he has. Even his enemies 
 own he is helpful to the poor, but they, and even his 
 friends, even you, think that money-getting is his passion. 
 If you knew his earlier history, you would understand him 
 better. When my father died, fifteen years ago, our in- 
 come died with him, and a large, helpless family was left 
 upon my brother's hands. I was too young to be of any 
 use ; the others were girls, my mother an invalid. It was 
 a heavy burden for a boy's shoulders. How nobly Marshall 
 bore it ; how he worked, economized, sacrificed ; how he 
 put aside all temptation to self-indulgence, personal ambi- 
 tion, and love — yes, a strong first passion that tempted him 
 more than anything ; how he gave up all these for the duty 
 of supporting his mother, of educating and providing far 
 his sisters and brother ; all that would make a long story, if 
 I should tell it. When war came, he had succeeded in making 
 us comfortable. He went as a private soldier ; afterward, 
 his good conduct raised him from the ranks. He sent us 
 regularly nearly every dollar of his pay. The war closed ; 
 as a reward for his services he was given a post here. He 
 was successful, and made money. Sickness and other mis- 
 fortunes had brought debt and distress at home. He re- 
 leased us from that bondage. He made it possible for my 
 sisters to marry the men of their choice. At length he has 
 brought us all here, where he feels our well-being still a 
 responsibility upon him. Can one wonder he has made 
 money-getting something of a passion ? It had been a 
 binding duty so long, it is not strange it should become 
 second nature. Circumstances forced his thoughts into 
 
138 WILD WORK. 
 
 that one channel so long ; and now he is making it minis- 
 ter to his ambition." 
 
 "And to his love. That's a sweet woman he has mar- 
 ried at last." 
 
 ** Adelle ? She is the tenderest, the most devoted creat- 
 ure I ever saw. I wish, from my soul, Marshall had met 
 such a woman and married her earlier. You knew her as 
 a girl, Judge Pickenson ; was she gay, light-hearted ? " 
 
 ''She was merry enough. There was always a touch 
 of gentle dignity about her, and a shade of romance — just 
 enough to give a depth and sweetness to her nature. She 
 is changed. I saw her last week. She is pale, and looks 
 absent and preoccupied. She ought to go more into so- 
 ciety." 
 
 '' She ought. Marshall must insist on it. Even when 
 they go to New Orleans he says she is almost as much of 
 a recluse as she is here. The truth is, he is her world ; her 
 thoughts all center in him. When he is away she watches 
 for his coming, and her color rises as soon as she catches 
 sight of him. Poor girl ! Her parents will have nothing 
 to do with her ; her brother treats her like a stranger ; she 
 has given them all up for Marshall. It seems to me, if I 
 were he, I could never show my appreciation of her enough. 
 He loves her, I know ; he is kind, too. But you see he is 
 occupied with other things. This is all between ourselves, 
 you know. I could not discuss Marshall's affairs vrith any 
 one but his friend — his true friend, as I believe. " 
 
 *' You are right ; I am Captain Witchell's friend, or I 
 should not have associated myself with him. He has done 
 some things I have not approved of, and I have told him 
 so, as friend to friend. I have advised him, too — but no 
 matter. He is a sharp fellow, and luck is with him. He 
 may be able to ride into the port he aspires after, on the 
 present high tide of fortune, over the breakers that I see 
 
WILD WORK. 139 
 
 ahead. No more of that now. Lock up your books ; get 
 your hat, and come with me for a long walk. Let's go and 
 get a late paper oif the Marie Louise. She is still at the 
 landing discharging Alver's freight. Look at Alver, stand- 
 ing yonder on the plank, directing matters and hectoring 
 the deck-hands. To order roustabouts is better than not 
 to order anybody. He ought to have been born across the 
 water — a Russian Count, with a parcel of quaking tenants 
 under his thumb." 
 
 ** Is that his wife holding a little girl by the hand who 
 has Just come up to him ?" 
 
 " Sly rogue ! you know it isn't. You are very well 
 aware that it is Miss Reese — the fair Floyd. I saw her at a 
 window as I passed Captain Alver's, posing as if for a 
 picture. She's not the usual style of schoolma'arm at all, 
 at all. More like a stage-queen. Alver shows his taste in 
 female looks in choosing a governess, though I fancy he 
 appreciates her excellence in that line more than his wife 
 does. But I must take care ; I believe you are attracted in 
 that quarter." 
 
 "So far as to think Miss Floyd Reese a handsome 
 woman, with fascinating ways. But my heart is safe, for I 
 left it in the Green Mountains. I have told you so much 
 of my family affairs ; I may as well confide this secret. I 
 am engaged to a dear little girl at home — another school- 
 ma'arm — and I shall marry her soon. We have waited five 
 years ; now, thanks to Marshall's goodness, I am able to 
 marry her. She is not as handsome as Miss Reese, but a 
 dear, bright, little woman, and will make a good wife." 
 
 ** Well ! she'll have a good husband, Omar. I hoped 
 you might have married one of our Southern girls, as your 
 brother did — not Miss Reese, though ; she's fine to look at, 
 but when one thinks of her as a wife there comes a dash of 
 cold water on his enthusiasm. Stick to your little Yankee 
 7 
 
140 WILD WORK. 
 
 girl ; bring her down here, and put her in that pretty little 
 house you are having built. We'll adopt her as one of us. 
 Hi ! there goes tlie Louise's whistle. What lady is that 
 who has just got off the boat and is coming up the bank ? 
 Why, it's Miss Zoe Vincent. She has come up to the party 
 at Alver's to-night, I imagine. She lives three miles below 
 here with her brother. Do you know her ? " 
 
 " Yes ; she is Adelle's friend. She came to see her not 
 long ago. I have never seen Adelle show so much pleasure 
 at meetmg any one. She seemed quite glad and girlish for 
 a while. Miss Vincent is beautiful ; such a glorious black 
 eye, such a proud poise to her little head ! You needn't 
 look at me in that quizzical way. Judge. She is engaged 
 as well as I am. Adelle told me so." 
 
 *^ Yes ; so I heard three years ago, when she first came 
 here. To some young lawyer in New Orleans, and they 
 were to marry right away, said Madame Rumor. Odd, no 
 such match has come off yet. To a girl like her it must 
 be awful lonesome down there on her brother's plantation. 
 But I think she lives a great deal in ' dreams and stately- 
 stepping fancies.' She is not like the average girl ; has 
 more soul ; plenty of nerve, too. I saw that tested two 
 years ago. I was with her on the steamer Alethea when it 
 burned up, just above Baton Eouge, and when most of the 
 passengers — she among them — would have been lost if it 
 hadn't been for the coolness of one fellow, a long haired 
 Texan, quick as a cat and sinewy as a buffalo. He got a lot 
 of us safely off in a boat, but somehow Zoe was left behind, 
 and he swam ashore with her. She had a chill after she 
 reached the bank ; and you ought to have seen the Texan 
 taking care of her ; respectful and delicate as if he had been 
 a gentleman instead of a gambling dare-devil. We had to 
 stay on the bank all night ; no boat came along to pick us 
 up. Vincent, Zoe's brother, was drinking (some of our best 
 
WILD WORK. lj,l 
 
 fellows luill get on a spree when they go to the city), so Zoe 
 was left pretty much to the Texan's care. I saw him fairly 
 carrying her across to the boat when one at last came along. 
 
 She must have had a civilizing effect on him, for he 
 drank no more that trip ; he had his beard trimmed, and he 
 only let slip an oath now and then. Vincent had lost mon- 
 ey to him at poker on the Alethea ; now he let him win it 
 back, and more besides. We all saw he only played to lose. 
 He sent fruits and ices to Miss Zoe, and charged the waiter 
 not to tell where they came from. About an hour before 
 the boat would reach Vincent's place, whom should I see in 
 the ladies' cabin but that Texan, begging Zo efor a song. 
 He had got into a black coat and wore a subdued, really 
 gentlemanly look. When we landed at her brother's home, 
 Vincent was seeing after his freight, and asked me to help 
 his sister off the boat. I went up to offer my services, but 
 the Texan was there. He glared at me as though he would 
 like to call me out, and seized Miss Vincent's hand. She 
 blushed red, but did not look displeased. I heard afterward 
 that he was a noted desperado." 
 
 " How do you know, Judge, that this little adventure is 
 not the secret of Miss Vincent's failing to marry the New 
 Orleans lawyer ? " 
 
 " Pshaw ! a fellow like that. She has hardly thought 
 of him since. Omar, you are as romantic as a girl." 
 
 '^ Miss Eeese is looking at us ; shall we go up and speak 
 to her?" 
 
 " Not I. She is standing by Alver. I never seek his 
 society. I sha'n't go to his house to-night." 
 
 *' I do not think my brother will ; nor shall I, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 " You'll change your mind after you have spoken to Miss 
 Floyd. There she is, beckoning you with her fan. Go and 
 speak to her." 
 
142 WILD WORE, 
 
 As Omar walked away, Judge Pickenson's eyes followed 
 him with a shrewd yet kindly look. 
 
 " Good-hearted but simple fellow," he muttered. ^^ Looks 
 on that sharp brother of his as a sort of demigod ; will 
 make a capital cat's-paw. I don't like the notion of his 
 getting burnt, though ; and he will get burnt, I am much 
 afraid. " 
 
 The sun had set ; the townspeople strolled to the river 
 bank. Judge Pickenson soon had a knot of his friends 
 around him. He was liked by many, despite his position as 
 the only prominent Southerner of the district who held 
 office under the Radical administration. His independent 
 character, his well-known courage, and the consideration he 
 had won as captain of a daring Confederate cavalry corps in 
 the war, made even his enemies treat him with outward re- 
 spect, thought they cursed him behind his back as a ^* hanger- 
 on of the robber ring." He did not condescend to defend his 
 position. He held that he had a right to accept office, and 
 to treat his Northern fellow-officials as human beings. No 
 doubt some of the "carpet-baggers" v/ere rogues and ras- 
 cals. Rogues and rascals were to be found everywhere. 
 No doubt others, fairly sound in principle at first, had been 
 over-tempted by the wide opportunities for arbitrary power 
 and extortion that the abnormal condition of things at the 
 South threw in the way of office-holders. Didn't they know 
 of good Southerners who would be tempted to fleece the 
 flock, if the gap was let down to them in the same way ? 
 
 *^ The temptation to play the autocrat is mighty strong 
 for the human worm," the Judge would say, lying back 
 philosophically in his chair, his hands locked behind his 
 head. "And the temptation to make money by ways that 
 are dark is stronger still — has the fascination of freeboot- 
 ing and smuggling. Why, I have had to have * Deliver us 
 from temptation ' framed in big capitals over my bed-foot ; 
 
WILD WORK. 143 
 
 and now I find myseK getting up without opening my 
 eyes." 
 
 There was one man of the '' Ring " whom Judge Picken- 
 son would not affiliate with. This was Yent, the burly, 
 brazen sheriff of the parish. Yent's nationality was uncer- 
 tain ; he was a sort of interloper in the Eadical camp. He 
 had won his way into it, partly by his persistent assurance, 
 and partly by the capability Witchell had seen in him of 
 impressing the negroes and ignorant white voters. His big, 
 imposing form, always well dressed and well mounted, his 
 bass voice, his fine condescension, the straightforward fa- 
 cility with which he could flatter or lie, and his ready knack 
 of rolling out wordy information and advice made him 
 seem a marvel of wisdom and honesty to his ignorant wor- 
 shipers. 
 
 He impressed the negroes with the belief that he was 
 Witchell's right hand, and that it was their interest to stay 
 and work only where he said. In this way he got planters 
 (widows particularly) under obligation to him, which he 
 turned to account by inducing them to intrust the sale of 
 their cotton to his superintendence. He pocketed the steal- 
 age accruing from this trust with such bland assurance 
 that his victims (more especially the widows) were dazed 
 into believing that they owed him a debt of gratitude. In- 
 deed, he took bribes, swindled, and lied, in such a pompous, 
 self-approving way, that it is certain a moral sense was 
 omitted in his composition. 
 
 Witchell regarded him with growing disfavor. He 
 would have taken away his ofiice at once, but Yent had had 
 glimpses behind the scenes, and would be a dangerous ene- 
 my. There seemed no other way but to throw sops to Cer- 
 berus ; and this Cerberus was capable of absorbing a good 
 many sops. 
 
 The sunset crimson was fading into purple and gray. 
 
114 WILD WORK. 
 
 Many of the loiterers by the river bank had gone home to 
 their early supper. Colonel Alver carried off his guest, 
 Miss Vincent ; Floyd Reese, gayly calling out that she would 
 follow in a moment, had lingered behind, talking to young 
 Witchell. The fresh wind played with her half-curled hair 
 and blew aside her light scarf, giving glim]3ses of her round, 
 white arms. 
 
 All at once her bright look darkened. Only for an in- 
 stant ; the red lips caught up their smile. 
 
 *' Yonder is your brother, the Captain," she said to Omar. 
 *^ How well he looks on horseback ! " 
 
 Captain Witchell had just returned from a day's ride 
 through the " Hills," where many of the poorer farmers 
 were his grateful adherents. He noticed Miss Reese by the 
 merest nod, and motioned with his riding whip for Omar to 
 come to him. 
 
 "What do you know of that young woman?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Only that she is a governess in Colonel Alver's family, 
 and that she formerly taught at Mr. Vincent's and seems 
 good friends with Miss Zoe." 
 
 '^She has not always been a governess. I happen to 
 know an episode in her history. I need not tell it to you. 
 A word will be sufficient. Beware of her. She is not so 
 angelic as she seems." 
 
 Omar looked his surprise. 
 
 "Very well. I will be on my guard," he said at last. 
 " How is Adelle ? " 
 
 " She is not so well, and that reminds me to be going. 
 She was anxious I should be back early." 
 
 "Yes, go at once ; she will be looking out for you. I 
 had some flowers to give you for her, when you should 
 come back by here, but — " 
 
 " But Miss Reese has got them away from you, I sec. 
 
WILD WORK. 145 
 
 Take care she gets nothing more important from you. 
 Good-by. You are coming to spend Sunday with us, of 
 course. Adelle told me to remind you of it." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The party at Colonel Alver's house dragged, in spite 
 of the host's elegant politeness. His self-control was not 
 so perfect that a sense of something having gone wrong — 
 of some secret discomfiture — did not emanate from him and 
 affect his guests. Only one present besides himself under- 
 stood the cause of the cloud that came and went across his 
 face ; and that one was not his wife — a gentle, sweet-faced 
 lady, who patiently played quadrilles for some of the young 
 people to dance, and who seemed wrapped in her children. 
 She kept them by her at the piano ; when she was not play- 
 ing she threaded their curls with her slim white fingers, and 
 looked into their faces with wistful tenderness. 
 
 Presently, when they had looked long enough at the 
 dancing, she carried them off to bed, leaving the part of 
 hostess to be filled by Miss Floyd Eeese. That young lady, 
 though only a governess, was at home in dispensing courte- 
 sies here, and was treated with much consideration by Colo- 
 nel Alver and his friends. Dressed in black gauze, with 
 her fine arms bare, and Omar's wild pinks in her hair and on 
 her bosom, she eclipsed every girl there, except Miss Vin- 
 cent. Zoe's face, perfect as a medallion cut in ivory, 
 her coils of black hair, her slender, graceful shape, were in 
 accord with the simple dress she wore — white all over, ex- 
 cept for one dash of vivid color at her throat, where a red 
 rose was held in place by a diamond cluster. 
 
 But Floyd had a score of alluring coquetries of manner 
 
140 WILD WORK. 
 
 that Zoe could not, or would not use, and she managed to 
 have a larger share of admirers about her. To have seen 
 her, gay, witty, ready with repartee or adroit flattery, 
 one would not have guessed that she too was disappointed 
 to-night, and that the bright glances that seemed to be 
 carelessly sweeping the room were really watching the 
 door with feverish eagerness. But, had one been noticing, 
 he would have seen a peculiar look come into her face as 
 Omar Witchell entered the room at last, quite late, and 
 having with him only young Hayne, and Devene, the tax 
 collector of an adjoining parish, the younger brother of 
 that Devene who had been Captain WitchelFs right-hand 
 man during all his political career, and who still held a 
 place in the Legislature. 
 
 After leaving Judge Pickenson's, Omar had gone to 
 Devene's room, where he found Hayne and Devene smok- 
 ing by the open window. Devene was giving a comic 
 description of his "tribulations as a tax collector in an 
 unreconstructed corner'^ of the neighboring parish. 
 
 *' They gave me hail Columbia," he said. "The men 
 got down their old shot guns and tried the triggers ; the 
 widows got after me with broomsticks, the children set 
 dogs upon me, the very donkeys brayed defiance at me 
 from their little pole-pen stables, and the damsels were 
 proof against all my blandishments. They made satirical 
 remarks about my appearance quite loud enough for me 
 to hear, and one pretty red-cheeked girl broke my heart 
 by characterizing my mustache (my best point, as I 
 thought) as an old coon tail. I was told several times, 
 * Never mind ; when you go to Morefield you'll get it. 
 Folks there are not going to stand such tax papers as 
 these — and from radical carpet-baggers. They are fixing 
 up for you in Morefield.' So, before I start for Morefield, 
 I'll have my will drawn up, boys, and make jow. my heirs. 
 
WILD WOEK. 14.7 
 
 I advise you to take the same precaution, Omar. You've 
 only had to deal as yet with the people round about here, 
 and this section is pretty well under the Captain's control. 
 It's the best reconstructed parish in the district, thanks 
 to your brother Marshall. Even Alver has come around 
 lately, which is quite a triumph. By the way, are we 
 going to his house to-night ? I should say it was time 
 we were there. Are you waiting for Captain Witchell, 
 Omar?" 
 
 ^^No, he is not going." 
 
 *^He is not ? Why, I thought his policy was to con- 
 ciliate." 
 
 ^^ So it is ; but in this case he has his reasons for staying 
 away. Hayne, my dear boy, put down that bottle. You've 
 had enough this evening. I don't want the finest waltzer 
 in the country to do discredit to his reputation to-night. 
 No, indeed ; I'm in earnest. Here she goes into the lock- 
 up ; " and firmly, but with an air of affectionate playful- 
 ness, he took the bottle of brandy from the handsome 
 deputy sheriff, whipped it into Devene's armoire, and 
 turned the key. Many a time he had interfered to keep 
 the self -indulged young aristocrat from drinking more than 
 was good for him, and from throwing away his money at 
 cards. 
 
 The young Southerner was a pet among the Eadical 
 officers. Witchell had given him a place at first through 
 politic motives, but his gay, indolent humor, and frank, 
 improvident ways, had a fascination for these colder and 
 more rigid New Englanders, and Ha3rQe became a favorite 
 among them. 
 
 The three young men were not a bad-looking trio as 
 they entered Colonel Alver's parlor ten minutes after- 
 ward. 
 
 Omar was the least striking. He was slender, and he 
 
UH WILD WORK. 
 
 bad a slight stooji of the shoulders, but his smile gave a 
 charm to his grave face, and his eyes set you to wondering 
 at their childlike earnestness. 
 
 Miss Keese left her partner and came to meet him with 
 her sweetest smile, and a chiding for his being so late. He 
 answered her pleasantly, but she knew, by some subtile 
 change in look and tone, that something had happened 
 since she talked with him at sunset on the river bank. 
 His brother had warned him against her. Had he told him 
 all he knew of her ? No, he would not do that. He had 
 promised not to tell that bit of black history which had 
 come to his knowledge the evening of her hurried advent 
 into the State. But he had warned Omar against her. It 
 was for this he had called him from her side. And he re- 
 fused to accept Alver's invitation. Her game was blocked 
 in this direction.. She set her sharp little teeth hard to- 
 gether. 
 
 " I'll^pay him for it," she thought. 
 
 Then she turned to her partner. 
 
 *^ I beg your pardon," she said graciously. *' I believe 
 you asked me what 1 thought of our State Senator's younger 
 brother. He's quite stupid and ordinary. His looks have 
 not even the knavish distinction of the Captain's. He 
 looked so owlish I thought he might be wise, and was at 
 some pains to draw him out, but I soon found there was 
 nothing to draw. He is ' a blank, my lord, a blank.' No, 
 Captain Witchell did not come. He showed his discern- 
 ment. He was only invited for courtesy's sake. His wife 
 and Mrs. Alver are old acquaintances. The Colonel is re- 
 lieved, I know, to find that they have had the good sense to 
 stay away." 
 
 The company went away a little after twelve. Mrs. 
 Alver had long since retired. Floyd took Zoe up to her 
 room, helped her lay aside her dress and comb out her 
 
WILD WORK. 149 
 
 splendid hair ; tlien, stooping to kiss her as she sat robed 
 in the snowy, ruffled gown, she said : 
 
 ''Go to bed petite ^ and keep your eyes bright for to- 
 morrow. I'm going down now to count the spoons ; I'll 
 be back directly." 
 
 Down she went, noiseless as a cat, but not to the pan- 
 try. A single light was burning in the parlor, and Colonel 
 Alver sat there — gloom in his looks. She went and stood 
 at a little distance in front of him, her hands crossed be- 
 fore her, her eyes fixed upon him. 
 
 ''Well," she said, with a little flicker of mirth about 
 her lips, ^'you look as Napoleon may have looked after 
 Waterloo. You haye not lost a battle — only made a false 
 moTe — an unimportant one." 
 
 *' A mean, sneaking, asinine move that it humiliates me 
 to think of — a move you were the cause of. But for your 
 persuasions I would neyer have stooped to conciliate these 
 men." 
 
 " There is no great harm done ; you have been checked 
 in one little diplomatic move ; the question is now, what 
 shall be your next ? " 
 
 " My next move ? I will make none. I will not keep 
 up this farce of good-will any longer. The mask of the 
 hypocrite stifles me. I will fling it oS. I hate Witchell 
 and his set, and I'll let them see and hear it when they 
 please, but this is all I can do. I can't supplant them ; 
 it's folly to think about that. They have too firm a hold 
 here, and they have had it so long now that it seems a 
 thing of course for them to be our masters, to absorb all 
 our offices, to make money out of us, and to whistle up the 
 bayonets if we dare expostulate. It is one of the many 
 contemptible qualities of men that they soon become ser- 
 vile after they have once been cowed. I was a fool •not to 
 have left this land of slaves as soon as the war ended and 
 
150 WILD WORK, 
 
 gone to Honduras, when I had money and energy to begin 
 life over again. Now I must content myself to be a village 
 store-keeper to the end of the chapter, with my poor chances 
 of trade crippled by Yankee interference." 
 
 *^Is it possible you so soon give up ? Where is your 
 ambition ? " 
 
 "Ambition ? Talk of running a race to a man who is 
 tied hand and foot. Don't you see I can do nothing here. 
 Witchell has this parish completely under his thumb. He 
 is daily becoming stronger here. He will be reelected for 
 the Senate, unless he thinks the time is ripe for him to 
 snatch at a bigger office, for he aspires to be governor of 
 the State, and he will be. But he will manage to quarter 
 his needy kin upon us here, world without end. I have 
 humbled my pride, and acted on your suggestion that the 
 only way to get rid of them was to get in with them, learn 
 their secret tactics, beat them at their own tricks and 
 mount over their heads. But that plan doesn't work, you 
 see. Witchell has given me the cold shoulder. He will 
 have nothing to do with me. He knows I would not make 
 a good tool in his hands. I would not be satisfied to have 
 a petty office flung to me — a crumb from a full table. For 
 this reason he don't want me, and it is as well, for I could 
 never submit to his dictation. So there's an end to a foolish 
 dream — partly inspired by you, for I had become almost 
 a ^ good citizen,' as the * Eing ' call these cowardly boot- 
 licks, until I knew you, and your words fanned the smol- 
 dering fire into a flame of hope. Let it die down now in 
 ashes." 
 
 ** A poor flame it must have been to be so easily quenched. 
 If it is a true flame it will bum through these obstacles. I 
 tell you, there is no ground for giving up hope. Your 
 prospect of success is as good as ever, if you will believe it." 
 
 " Pray, what would you have me do ? Woman-like, 
 
^yILD WORK. 151 
 
 you have some impracticable plan in your brain. You hang 
 out rainbows, but fail to show us how to get the treasure 
 at the end of them. I suppose you would have me go 
 down on my knees to Witchell and beg some deputy office 
 or other. He absorbs all the rest himself. He is repre- 
 sentatiye, tax-receiver, magistrate, and everything else. I 
 will not stoop to him again." 
 
 "Nor do I want you to. I can see that there is no use 
 to move farther in that direction. But you must not drop 
 your mask, as you call it, altogether — at least for a while. 
 You can work best for a time behind it ; and work against 
 him you must ; secretly for a while, and then as openly 
 as you please. You have time to do much between now 
 and the next election. Institute a secret society in oppo- 
 sition to his Moyal league,' extend its branches into the 
 country around. Make speeches at the meetings. You are 
 eloquent and impassioned; you can stir up the people 
 against this man ; you can break through this numbing ice 
 of submissiveness." 
 
 ^' You forget that the people, as you call them, do hardly 
 half the voting now. The negro predominates under Wit- 
 chell's registration. " 
 
 "You may work upon the negro also through one 
 man. " 
 
 " You mean Yent?" 
 
 " Yes ; he is secretly Mitchell's enemy, and he has full 
 as much control over the man and brother as Witchell has. 
 I found that out, and some other things, in a private talk 
 I have had with Yent." 
 
 "A private talk — you? Floyd, and you know Yent's 
 reputation ? " 
 
 "I am not afraid of him. Don't be jealous, my Caesar 
 of the yard-stick, my eagle caged and clipped. I am work- 
 ing in your interest. Leave Yent to me. He shall not 
 
152 ^yiLD WOJiK. 
 
 suspect you in the case. He shall work cautiously and 
 for himself chiefly, as he will think. At the last moment 
 he may be the means of bringing over no mean number to 
 your party." 
 
 " My party ! I have none." 
 
 "But you must have. Set the ball rightly in motion 
 and it will gather as it rolls. Organize a party of opposi- 
 tion, secretly at first, as I have said. Such an organiza- 
 tion grows faster under the shadow of secrecy. Curiosity 
 and mystery stimulate its growth. When it has attained 
 a formidable size, bring it out into the light. " 
 
 " How plausibly you talk ! As if there were any use of 
 organizing an opposition that would be certainly crushed 
 when it came to the test of election. The ballot-box is 
 wholly in the hands of this Ring. They can manipulate 
 there as they please. If fraudulent registering and fraudu- 
 lent casting of votes do not do the work, fraudulent count- 
 ing of returns will set them all right." 
 
 "You must make them afraid to practice such unlawful 
 tricks. You must watch them so vigilantly, hold them to 
 account so boldly, that they will grow timid, hardened as 
 they are in assurance. Get a mouth-piece here in opposi- 
 tion to theirs — a newspaper — that, when the time is ripe for 
 open opposition, shall begin the war in the most fearless fash- 
 ion ; shall make wit, abuse, and satire its unsparing weap- 
 ons. Scatter abroad scathing truths, withering exposures. 
 Rake up old scores and light them with fresh fires of hate. 
 I can worm toiany of their evil secrets from Yent. Show 
 these up in vivid colors. Throw sneers at the people, who 
 have so long stood these things, and encourage them to 
 stand them no longer." 
 
 He looked at her with admiration. 
 
 "What a leader you would make !" he said. "Floyd, 
 you ought to liavc been born a man." 
 
WILD WORK. 153 
 
 " Oh ! if I had been," she cried. '^ As a man, I would 
 act ; now I can only inspire others to act. I would com- 
 mand fate. I would fight against dull mediocrity. I 
 would rise above the heads of the common crowd, or die in 
 the attempt. I would stickle at nothing, fear nothing, 
 care for nothing but power. Ah! to 'feel such a will — 
 throbbing, struggling inside your heart, and know it must 
 be kept in, restrained for ever by the woman'' s bodice." 
 
 She trembled with the strength of her emotion. This 
 passion for power was a mania with her. It had been her 
 ruin. Since she must rule by the need of her being, she 
 had sought to rule hearts — dangerous and explosive things. 
 Had she been a man, she might have ruled heads. 
 
 He was silent for a moment, looking at her ; then, as she 
 sank slowly into a seat and leaned her elbow upon the mar- 
 ble table, and dropped her eyes, he said : 
 
 "Floyd, I wonder, with your ambition, that you did 
 not attach your hopes to the winning clique." 
 
 "Because I did not believe it would continue to be the 
 winning party. My woman's insight tells me that it is 
 doomed. It seems flourishing now, but there is rottenness 
 within. I had rather launch my boat on the low tide that 
 is just beginning to rise than on the high tide that is begin- 
 ning to ebb. A reaction is at hand. " 
 
 "I can not see it. Our cause never seemed darker than 
 now." 
 
 "It is the dark hour that comes before the day. The 
 pendulum must swing to the farther end of the arc before 
 it begins to return." 
 
 " And it is this foresight that makes you prefer rather 
 to buoy a stranded ship than to float with one whose tim- 
 bers are giving way ? " 
 
 ^' That is one reason." 
 
 "And you have another ?" 
 
151 WILD WORK. 
 
 "Perhaps I have — a woman's reason," she said, her ex- 
 pression changing. " Perhaps, instead of seeking to bask 
 in the good fortune of this lank, hicky Yankee adventurer, 
 
 with his 
 
 ' Heart that is cold 
 To all but gold,' 
 
 I prefer to cheer and inspire a — " 
 
 "A cropped-winged eagle — a Caesar of the yard-stick, as 
 you contemptuously characterize him." 
 
 *^ Hush," she said, rising and putting her little hands 
 together, her favorite gesture. " To inspire a man who, 
 in spite of his fallen fortunes, is a king among men ; who 
 was born to superiority, who aspires, and may succeed if 
 he wills it — a man whose wrath can make men tremble, 
 whose voice can persuade or command, and whose smile is 
 — fascination." 
 
 Her burning eye — her voice sunk to such a thrilling 
 whisper ! He started toward her, but she sprang back a 
 step, light as a bird. She stood there, looking in her gossa- 
 mer black dress and red flowers, with her long, white neck, 
 and bright eyes, like some bird of the tropics, conscious of 
 alluring you, yet ready to fly if you approach too near. 
 But when she saw he had controlled himself she came up 
 of her own accord and laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " Promise me that you will do what I have asked," she 
 said, looking into his eyes. " Promise me that you will not 
 give up in this weak fashion, that you will supplant these 
 men that are your own bitter enemies as well as the enemies 
 of your country." 
 
 "I am ready to promise anything you ask." 
 
 '* Do not speak that way. I am in deej), bitter earnest. 
 Promise that you will follow the plan I have outlined, filled 
 in by your superior judgment." 
 
 "I promise you I will. I only follow out my own 
 
WILD WORK. 155 
 
 strong inclination when I oppose these t}Tants. Justice, 
 patriotism, as well as desire to redress my indiyidual wrongs, 
 make it right to use every means to root them out. Every 
 lionoraUe means — dishonorable means I will not be a party 
 to." 
 
 She bit her lip with a quick expression of impatience, 
 but she bent her head to hide it the next instant. 
 
 ''Very well," she said. ** Thanks; I will count on 
 you. You will succeed." 
 
 '^I have scarcely a hope of it. By next election we will 
 be calling our little play ' Labor Lost.' " 
 
 ** By next election much may happen," she said eagerly. 
 All this opposition we are to sow broadcast must break out 
 in some result; with all this scattered gunpowder, the 
 least spark will produce an explosion that shall send our 
 enemies to destruction." 
 
 He looked at her earnestly in silence. 
 
 ''Or," she went on, "some trap may be set into which 
 they shall walk blindfold, and which will crush— ^?7^ 
 them." 
 
 ''Floyd, would you advocate such measures ?" 
 
 "Yes, I would fight Satan with fire ; I am afraid it is 
 the only way in this case. It is the only way to rid our sec- 
 tion of this pest. Witchell has fastened upon it with the 
 cold-blooded persistence of the devil-fish. Lop off one ten- 
 tacle, and he will put out another. No lopping or crip- 
 pling, then, but crushing. And if not by fair means, then 
 by foul." 
 
 " There I can not follow you. I said I would use all 
 honorable means. Assassination, and traps, and dark plots 
 are not honorable. I would stop this side of these. So 
 far, and no farther." 
 
 A scowl of disappointment and contempt darkened her 
 face. Then she laughed mirthlessly. 
 
156 WILD WORK. 
 
 *' All's fair in war, you know," she said carelessly. 
 '' Spare me that frown, just Cato. I was only testing your 
 integrity. Of course you will do nothing but what is hon- 
 orable, nor would I wish you to. Could you not see I 
 was not in earnest ? I only gave you a touch of my histri- 
 onic powers. Am I not a good actor ? " 
 
 " You are, indeed. You looked the murderous Borgia 
 then. I wonder now, as I have often done before, why 
 you have not gone on the stage." 
 
 "I preferred a wider scope for my powers — a real stage. 
 Some day I will act a real tragedy — or inspire one. Or, 
 perhaps," with another of her quick changes, ''it will be 
 only a melodrama or a love idyl." 
 
 She gave him a kiss of the hand and a courtesy. " Good- 
 night. I told Miss Vincent I was coming down to count 
 the spoons. She will have a poor opinion of my arithme- 
 tic." 
 
 She reached the door and looked back. 
 
 "I have recorded your promise here,''^ she said, laying 
 her hand upon her heart. '' I shall not forget it." 
 
 Outside the door, she paused and stared at the low 
 moon, seen through the glass around the hall-door. 
 
 " So far and no farther," she repeated to herself. " Oh ! 
 what weak, squeamish things some men are ! Honor and 
 conscience and pride are bugbears for ever in their path. 
 
 "Well, we'll see. He shall be bHnded and led farther 
 before he knows it — if there is need of it. I will not give 
 up — no not if I have to play a lone hand. I can not rest 
 until Witchell is out of the way — the man who has scorned 
 me, humbled me, as no man ever did before — the man who 
 alone knows my secret, who watches me with such cold, 
 cruel contempt in his eyes, who may at any moment expose 
 me, and put my life in danger. " 
 
 The moon sank behind the forest line. Floyd stole 
 
WILD WORK. 157 
 
 noiseless as a gliding serpent up the stairs. She cast a 
 glance at the sleeping Zoe, undressed, and crept to bed, ly- 
 ing down with her brain full of wild, whirling thoughts and 
 dark memories that would steal in — by the side of the white- 
 souled girl asleep with the smiling shadow of a dream on 
 her parted lips. 
 
 The man she had left sat awhile with his brow con- 
 tracted in thought, his eyes fixed upon the door that had 
 closed behind the beautiful woman. 
 
 "So far and no farther," he too repeated. Captain 
 Pickenson had been mistaken in his estimate of him. He 
 was not fit for " treason, stratagems, and spoils." He was 
 too proud and hot-tempered. He hated his foes with all 
 the strength of his fiery heart, and he was intensely ambi- 
 tious — more ambitious than Witchell (though without the 
 New Englander's cold, plodding earnestness of aim), for he 
 loved power for power's sake, and he only cared for money 
 as a means to increase his influence. 
 
 He was a born autocrat. He had reigned like a feudal 
 baron among his many slaves ; he had commanded a regi- 
 ment with the pride and zest of a Eussian Prince. No 
 wonder he chafed in his narrow sphere. But, for all his 
 hatred of his enemies, his resentment at the injuries he held 
 they had inflicted upon his business, and his desire to sup- 
 plant them, he revolted at using underhand means to ac- 
 complish his end. He would have despaired of attempting 
 any systematized means had it not been for the persistent 
 suggestions of the girl who was so mad for the overthrow of 
 "Witchell, and the accession of another, in whose prosperity 
 she might have some share. He was under the influence of 
 the wily charmer. She bewildered and attracted him ; but 
 she adroitly held him at arm's length, and increased her 
 power over him by preserving his respect for her as a 
 woman. 
 
158 WILD WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Legislature was in convention in New Orleans. It 
 was a busy session. Besides the legitimate State business, 
 there were issues affecting the party in power, and there were 
 questions of vital personal interest to some of the members. 
 Most actively interested of any man in the Assembly was 
 the member of the Senate from the — th district. Yet 
 Marshall Witchell's activity was never outwardly shown. 
 His bearing had its usual self-collected, almost stoical quiet. 
 The firm mouth, the cold, keen eye kept the secret of the 
 busy brain that was on the alert to avoid false moves, to seize 
 all the points of advantage that were offered by this occa- 
 sion — an important crisis, as he rightly judged, in his politi- 
 cal destiny. This year his term as member of the Senate 
 would expire. He determined at least on reelection. He 
 had hoped for a higher office, and there was no reason why 
 he should not obtain it. In intellect he was superior to 
 either of the two other men who were pointed at as the pos- 
 sible prospective governor of the State. Financially, he 
 was able to cope with them, and politically his influence 
 was as wide as theirs ; he had as many friends, and they 
 were stanch ones. There was only one drawback. Both 
 the other aspirants for the highest office of the State resided 
 near New Orleans. They were identified in a manner with 
 tlie city that was the political aijd business center of the 
 State. The influence they could wield was from this cir- 
 cumstance stronger. Then there were tricks that the 
 Metropolitan Political Ring was up to which Witch ell, 
 with all his acuteness, had not yet learned. He was learn- 
 ing them, however. His energies were bent to the task of 
 extending his influence, bringing his views into promi- 
 nence, conciliating those in any way unfriendly to him, 
 
WILD WORK. 159 
 
 and trying to understand tlie tactics of his opponents and 
 to set in motion secret springs that might circumvent them. 
 He found there was disaffection in the Eepublican party ; 
 a complaint of mismanagement and of unfair distribution 
 of favors. The disaffected ones would rally around Wit- 
 chell. They would be willing to have New Orleans thrown 
 out in the approaching nomination, and all the higher 
 offices given to men from the country. Witchell saw this 
 disposition, and he saw his chance to be the political leader 
 of the State. He set his sails to catch this favorable wind, 
 but he gave no sign of his intentions to the other side. 
 While he based his hope on this half secret split in the 
 party, he appeared to enter heartily into the formation of 
 what was known as the Eepublican Alliance, which con- 
 sisted in the Kepublicans banding together to meet the 
 Democratic opposition which they foresaw ; binding them- 
 selves to do all in their power to uphold their party and to 
 check the rebellious spirit that began to be rife in the air. 
 Every parish was to be newly organized by all the negroes 
 being sworn in, and as many of the whites as could be in- 
 duced to ally themselves with the party that seemed at pres- 
 ent all powerful. Witchell's cupidity and his ambition 
 were alike fired by the prize he saw in the future. He saw 
 power and a fortune of millions ahead of him ; but his 
 hand did not shake as he prepared to grasp it. Coolly, sys- 
 tematically, and with great finesse and strategy, he set 
 about paving his way, preparatory to the Convention of 
 nomination that would meet in the summer. 
 
 The work in hand absorbed his thoughts and occupied 
 his time ; he had none to spare to his invalid young wife. 
 She was with him in the city in elegant apartments, but she 
 felt almost as far removed from his daily life — ^his thoughts 
 and occupations — as though she had remained in her qui- 
 et, catalpa-shaded home on Eed Eiver. Her husband had 
 
160 WfLD WORK. 
 
 taken pains that she should have every attention that money 
 could obtain. 
 
 She had a physician and nurses, a carriage was at her 
 disposal, and fresh fruits and flowers were daily sent to her 
 room. But those attentions that only watchful and devoted 
 love can give — these the poor, sick heart missed and pined 
 for. To have him sit by her and hold her hand and look 
 with tenderness into her fading face, and say cheering 
 words, adding the balm of affection to the cordial of his 
 electrical presence — ^this would have been happiness to 
 Adelle. But though he daily left a kiss on her lips, he 
 was too preoccupied to notice how feverish they were, and 
 how wistfully they trembled. He did not see, when he 
 parted the hair from her temples, that her forehead grew 
 wanner and the blue veins more apparent every day. Her 
 complaints of loneliness, her little tender appeals to spare 
 her an hour from daily business or night committees an- 
 noyed him sometimes. Could she not see he was working 
 for her ? She would be the richest and most honored lady 
 in the State ; she should have her winter mansion near this 
 beautiful city, her summer home among the mountains of 
 his native land. Why would she not go out more into so- 
 ciety ? His mother, for whose opinion he had the highest 
 regard, had told him before he and his wife left '' Starlight 
 Home " on the river that Adelle was hysterical and baby- 
 ish. She had been too much petted when a girl. She 
 must be dealt with kindly but firmly, and taught some 
 womanly strength of character. If she would mix more 
 with people, go more into general society, it would make 
 her realize the dignity of her position, and keep her from 
 pining because she missed the petting of the father and 
 mother and the brother who had cast her off. Her illness, 
 declared the strong, wiry New England woman (who forgot 
 she had once been an invalid), arose from this weak grieving 
 
WILD WORK. 161 
 
 oyer the estrangement of lier family and from childisli crav- 
 ing to be petted and caressed by lier husband. If she could 
 get over this, was Mrs. Witchell's decision, Adelle would soon 
 be perfectly well. Witchell, who knew little of the secret 
 and delicate mechanism of a woman's heart, tried to act upon 
 his mother's suggestion. Her plan might have answered 
 with a colder and shallower nature, but it did not answer 
 with this girl, to whom love was the fountain without which, 
 if once dried, all her physical being must wither and perish. 
 
 She did pine for the home friends, and the fond home 
 care and watchful tenderness — the kind old face of her 
 mother, the stern, but to her (in the old days) always 
 tender eyes of her father. Oh ! how could they harden 
 their hearts so against her ? How could they refuse to see 
 her, to write to her in answer to her imploring letters all 
 this long, weary while ? She had heard that her mother 
 told a friend she knew '^Adelle needed her old parents no 
 longer ; that she was rich now, and she had the husband 
 she was so anxious to forsake every one else for ; she was 
 flattered, followed in societ}^ and had a fine house and 
 jewels and dresses, and her husband's mother and kins- 
 folk to care for her. No doubt she never gave a thought 
 to her old home." 
 
 Not give it a thought ? How often Adelle, in the 
 midst of her fine surroundings, yearned with inexpressible 
 longing to rest her languid form under the old honey- 
 suckle shaded porch at home ? The scent of the pinks : 
 the twitter of the martins in their gourd nests, hung aloft 
 to swing and rattle in the wind ; the coo of her pigeons ; her 
 mother's voice, singing as she sewed or knitted, 
 
 " How do thy mercies close me round ?" 
 
 Her father's whistle as he worked away at putting up a 
 trellis for a grape-vine, or at hanging a refractory gate ; the 
 
1G2 WILD WORK. 
 
 monotonous song of the little kitchen darky in the back 
 yard as he plied the churn-dasher under the mulberry-tree 
 and pleaded 
 
 " Come, butter, come. 
 Here stands Miss with a free good-will ; " 
 
 Derrick's laugh and his quick step behind her, and his 
 hands put over her eyes while he drew back her head to 
 drop ripe huckleberries in her mouth — all these sights and 
 sounds of the sweet, lost country home came so vividly 
 over Adelle, as she lay in her elegant bed, or sat by her 
 window, looking out into the street full of strange, hurry- 
 ing, self-absorbed people, that the tears would come in 
 slow drops and roll down her pale cheeks, and the hired 
 nurse (a French woman, cross and tyrannical when alone 
 with her charge) would say impatiently, 
 
 "Now you are crying again, madam, and making your- 
 self worse. What will the Captain say when he sees your 
 eyes all red ? " 
 
 At this the poor girl would hurriedly wipe away the 
 tears and beg the maid to remove their traces with pearl 
 powder, for she knew Captain Witchell was always annoyed 
 at her weeping. His nature was utterly dissimilar to hers, 
 and he could not understand why she should not be happy. 
 He was more to her than the parents or the home she had 
 lost ; but, alas ! to her sensitive, sick heart, she seemed to 
 have lost him also. She counted for so little in his busy 
 life — she had so little part in it. It would have been a joy 
 to her to help him. But he seemed so sufficient to himself. 
 He asked no sympathy ; he confided none of his hopes and 
 plans. 
 
 Neither understood the other, but Adelle tried faith- 
 fully to please her husband, although the weakness conse- 
 quent upon ill health made her efforts fitful and languid. 
 
WIZD WORK. 163 
 
 Wlien she felt able to be up, sbe dressed sometimes and 
 went with him to dinner at the houses of men whose wives 
 had left their cards on her center-table — men whom Cap- 
 tain Witchell wished especially to please. Her delicate 
 beauty and sweetness of manner always rendered her a 
 favorite, but it was at sad sacrifice of her own feelings that 
 she made these efforts. 
 
 Zoe Vincent came to the city with her brother, who 
 brought his cotton to exchange for plantation supphes and 
 goods for his store. She went to see Adelle at once, and 
 the poor little patient brightened under her nursing and 
 her cheering presence. A delicate pink came into her 
 cheeks, unlike the feverish hectic that sometimes burned 
 there . One evening she was greatly better ; she was going 
 to the opera with Zoe and Eoyal West. She hoped to per- 
 suade her husband to go with her, and she waited for him 
 with childlike eagerness. Very lovely she looked in her 
 dress of pale silk with ermine-trimmed opera cloak and 
 dainty hood that only half covered her little shapely head, 
 whose dark tresses she had made the French hair-dresser 
 arrange in curls, because she had often worn them so in her 
 girlhood, and she fancied Marshall liked it. 
 
 He came at last ; a glance at his face told her he had 
 brought his business cares home with him, but going up to 
 him she timidly preferred her little request. Would he go 
 with her and her friends to the opera to-night ? She would 
 not enjoy it without him. Her spirits sank as, without 
 noticing her pretty toilet, he said : 
 
 "I am sorry ; I have a business engagement to-night ; 
 I am chairman of a committee — and of course can't go. 
 Mr. West will fill my place as escort, and Miss Zoe will 
 keep you in spirits." 
 
 She went with her friends, but all pleasure in the enter- 
 tainment was gone for her. As she sat in a side box many 
 
104 TF/XZ) WOUK 
 
 eyes were turned wonderingly to her beautiful pale face and 
 large melancholy eyes. 
 
 In the midst of the prima donna's mimic grief Mrs. 
 Witchell fainted. She soon recovered consciousness, but 
 she looked so wan that Zoe hurried her home, and sat by 
 her until Captain Witchell came, while Royal waited in the 
 parlor. Zoe was strongly moved by the change in her 
 friend. 
 
 "It all comes from love," she thought. "Let me take 
 warning." 
 
 During the drive to the hotel she was altogether silent, 
 and when, Royal having dismissed the carriage, the two sat 
 secluded and quiet in the bower-like balcony that over- 
 hung the street, she still remained silent and distrait in 
 spite of the balmy air, the myriad stars overhead, and the 
 softened light that came through the windows of the draw- 
 ing-room. She started as Royal, laying his hand over hers, 
 asked the cause of her silence. 
 
 "I have been thinking what a mad thing it is for a 
 woman to stake her happiness for this world upon a man's 
 love," slie answered, drawing away her hand as she spoke. 
 
 " If it be a mad thing, you will never deserve a strait- 
 jacket for any such insanity," he said sardonically. 
 
 " I was speaking generally. I do not like to have my 
 remarks applied to myself by another," she responded 
 haughtily, half rising as she spoke, and then added : "It is 
 late. I had better say good-night." 
 
 " Excuse me ; it is not so late. Sit down. I must have 
 some words with you in private. I have had no oppor- 
 tunity of speaking them since you came. You have seemed 
 to me to plan that I should not be alone with you. Pardon 
 me if I wrong you, but I can not help believing that your 
 engagement to me is no longer agreeable to you ; that your 
 heart is not in it. You have put me off from time to time 
 
WILD WOEK, 165 
 
 until months have grown into years, and, now that no 
 shadow of pretext is left for you to postpone our marriage, 
 you seem to avoid the subject altogether ; you shrink from 
 being alone with me. What does it mean ? " 
 
 For a while she was silent, then she said deprecatingly ; 
 
 **You know my reasons for postponement. Royal. 
 First, it was my mother's death. I could not think of 
 marriage while that sorrow was so fresh in my mind." 
 
 '* But it is now three years since that happened." 
 
 '^ I know ; but I have been of such use in my brother's 
 family, teaching his dear little children, he often declares 
 he could not spare me ; and, besides, I hated to come to you 
 as a burden ; and you know the little fortune my mother 
 left me is to stay in the hands of trustees until I am twenty- 
 one. You agreed with me — or you ought to have — that it 
 would be more prudent to wait until then." 
 
 " I agreed to nothing of the kind. You tried to reason 
 me into agreeing to such an absurdity, but I told you we 
 wouldn't need your money. I had a fair income from my 
 profession ; I had saved money and invested it to advantage. 
 I am now about to purchase a handsome house, which I 
 will furnish comfortably. If any prudential reasons once 
 existed why we should not marry, they exist no longer. I 
 am tired to death of boarding-house life, and, to be frank 
 with you, I am tired of your dilly-dallying in this matter 
 of our engagement. To-night I must have your positive 
 answer. When will you fulfill your promise, Zoe ? On 
 what day, or week, or month at farthest will you marry 
 me?" 
 
 He felt her hand tremble as he took it in his, and he 
 could see how pale she was. 
 
 "I have been too impetuous in my way of speaking to 
 you," he said gently. ^* Pardon me, and give me the an- 
 swer I ask — my best love." 
 
166 TT/ZZ) WOEK. 
 
 '*Am I really your best love?'' she retorted quickly. 
 '*Do you love me better than you do any one else ? better 
 than you could love some one else if you were to try, Royal ? 
 There are so many beautiful, accomj^lished girls here in the 
 city, and you might win any one of them ; I am sure you 
 might." 
 
 ** Thank you, I know that there are scores of handsome 
 women here, and that I am looked upon as a good catch, 
 in their parlance, but I can not see what that has to do 
 with the question I have asked you. Certainly I loved you 
 only, or I would not have asked you to be my wife." 
 
 "But people change." 
 
 ** Do they ? I have not. Over three years ago I en- 
 gaged myself to you, with the approval of your father, and 
 the full sanction of your mother who is now in heaven. I 
 have looked forward constantly to our marriage. I have 
 worked hard with that incentive, wishing to give you the 
 social position you deserved. It is rather late in the day to 
 ask me if I love you, Zoe. I will retaliate and ask you the 
 same question. Zoe, do you love me ?" 
 
 She made a movement as if she would withdraw her 
 hands, but he held them firmly. She tried to laugh at his 
 earnestness. 
 
 "How like a lawyer you put that question, and how 
 sharply your eye takes me up ; you make me feel like a 
 veritable prisoner at the bar." 
 
 He did not smile ; his face grew sterner instead. 
 
 *' Zoe, I will not bear any trifling with me now. Speak ; 
 I insist upon your answering me. I know that you are 
 truthful. You will not tell me a lie." 
 
 "No, I will not," she said with impetuous emphasis, 
 as though she had conquered in a struggle with herself. 
 "You ask me if I love you, and I must answer, I do not 
 know." 
 
WILD WORK 167 
 
 *' Not know ? Your ignorance in tliat matter is recent. 
 OncejovL seemed to haye no doubt on that score." 
 
 **Ihadnot — then. I esteemed you. I felt sure that 
 I loyed you — but, since — " 
 
 " Since then you have lost your esteem for me." 
 
 **!N"o, not that. I — I have seen — " 
 
 '' Ah ! you have seen some one else you had rather marry. 
 I might have known what all this reluctance meant." 
 
 "I have seen no one I had rather marry." 
 
 ''Then what do you mean ? Be calm, Zoe ; speak co- 
 herently, and to the point, please." 
 
 " I will, so far as I can. I can hardly make my feel- 
 ings clear to you, for they are not clear to me. If they 
 had been I would have spoken before now. It has pained 
 me to feel as if I were imposing upon you. You shall hear 
 all ; you can understand, perhaps, what I hardly compre- 
 hend myself. I have met a man in whom I feel a singular 
 and unexplainable interest. No matter where I met him, 
 or what his name may be. Indeed, I do not know his real 
 name, or his family, or anything scarcely of his past life ; 
 but — I think of him always. I am filled with anxiety 
 for his fate, for he is what may be called an outlaw. 
 I remember every word I ever heard him speak. I 
 recall the look in his eyes, the touch of his hand ; no 
 other look or touch ever thrilled me so. You see, I am 
 holding nothing back," she said, lifting her eyes that had 
 dropped to the floor. The deep flush that burned on 
 her cheeks witnessed at what cost she was making this con- 
 fession. 
 
 "And you wish to marry this man ?" asked her lover 
 with forced calmness. 
 
 ''No, oh ! no. I would not ; I could not marry him. 
 No woman of gentle blood could promise herself happiness 
 in marrying such a man. He is rough ; he is reckless, 
 
lOS WILD WORK, 
 
 fierce at times. Something in his life has happened to 
 make him so." 
 
 " An unprincipled desperado, like many who are coming 
 to the front just now." 
 
 " Unprincipled ! No, Eoyal, no, he is not unprincipled, 
 lie has a high sense of honor ; I have seen it proved, and 
 he is brave ; there is no hero in old days that was ever 
 braver ; yet he can be tamed by a soft word." 
 
 '' Ah ! I know the style of man — a modern Eed Eover. 
 He rendered you some service. You saw him in some po- 
 sition that excited your pity ; you saw him do some act of 
 cheap bravado, and straightway your imagination painted 
 him a hero — especially after he told you that he loved you." 
 
 *' But he did not tell me so, unless in some wild, impul- 
 sive words that probably meant nothing. He rendered me 
 a service, it is true, but it was not until after I had seen 
 him and — felt for him as I have told you. Do not be sar- 
 castic. Royal ; listen to me. I do not know how to analyze 
 the feeling I have for this man. I could never marry him ; 
 my judgment would oppose it— and what would my father 
 and my brother say ? He himself said he would wish any 
 woman a better fate than to marry him. I shall, in all 
 probability, never see him again, for he has gone, as he told 
 me, to the outskirts of civilization — to Mexico or Utah, I 
 imagine. I have not seen him for months. Now I have 
 told you all." 
 
 ''All?" 
 
 ''Everything, I think." 
 
 "And it was the interest you took in this dcsper— I 
 mean in this man that caused you to put off fulfilling yoTir 
 engagement to me ? " 
 
 " It was. I could not think it right to marry you, feel- 
 ing as I did about another man." 
 
 " Yet you do not respect him ; you would not marry 
 
WILD WORK, 169 
 
 him ; you have never spoken a word of affection to him or 
 listened to any avowal of love on his part. You never expect 
 him to cross your path again — all this is true, is it not ? " 
 
 *atis." 
 
 ^^ And you still care for me ?" 
 
 '^ I *do ; as much as I ever did." 
 
 '*Zoe, depend upon it, your feeling for this man is a 
 mere romantic fancy — the impulse of an imaginative, sym- 
 pathetic girl. Banish it. Think no more of such a man. 
 Forget that you have met him, and I will forget it as well. 
 The engagement betwe. \ us that has lasted so long, until 
 you seem almost my wife, shall still exist — unless you wish 
 it to be broken. Do you ? " 
 
 *^No," she said, after a pause. '^I will fulfill my 
 promise, since you still wish it after what I have told you. 
 I will try to forget as truly as I regret having ever met this 
 man." 
 
 "I am sure you will. I love you for your truthfulness 
 in telling me what you could have easily kept back. I know 
 it has been painful to you. I will not trouble you any 
 more to-night. To-morrow, if you will, you shall name 
 the day when you will make me happy by giving me this 
 little hand." 
 
 He raised her hand to his lips, bowing as he kissed it, 
 and left her. 
 
 She admired his good sense and kindness in dealing 
 with her unfortunate ^' fancy" — and yet — oh! contradic- 
 tory puzzle of woman's heart ! she would have liked him 
 better if he had been unreasonable and jealous — had gone 
 into a passion over her confession, and upbraided her in 
 violent terms. 
 
 But she admired and respected him ; she thought how 
 good and talented he was — how perfectly nice, from his 
 morals to his person — his well-kept hands, his glossy hair. 
 
170 WILD WOEE. 
 
 his immaculate shirt-fronts and perfectly fitting coat and 
 boots. What a contrast to that other one — that long-limbed 
 ** desperado," as Royal had called him, and as, perhaps, he 
 deseryed to be called. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 In the spring, now close at hand, it would be two years 
 since Zoe met this man who had taken such a hold upon 
 her sympathy or her imagination as to make her feel it a 
 duty to tell Royal of her interest in him. She had then 
 been in New Orleans waiting the departure of the steam- 
 ship that would take her to Havana to visit her father, who 
 had gone there a 3^ear before, and, entering into the tobacco 
 business, had endeavored to repair his damaged fortune. 
 He had had yellow fever the fall before, and had ever since 
 been rather weak in health and depressed in spirits. His 
 usually cheerful mind was clouded with presentiments, and 
 he longed to see his daughter. In this mood, but without 
 frightening Zoe by any gloomy expressions, he wrote to her 
 to come to him — for a visit, if she should not fancy living 
 on the island, or the climate did not agree with her. It 
 would be a pleasant trip, and she would be well taken care 
 of by any of the captains of the three United States packets 
 plying regularly between New Orleans and Cuba, and touch- 
 ing at various ports along the gulf coast to put off freight — 
 much of it supplies for the United States troops stationed 
 at various points on the coast or along the railroad line in 
 the interior. He knew the commanders of those govern- 
 ment vessels ; had had business transactions with them, 
 and found them gentlemanly and honorable. 
 
 Zoe had come down to the city in company with some 
 
WILD WORK 171 
 
 friends, had found the Lavaca in port, and advertised to 
 leave on next Tuesday. The Captain, who called on her 
 and gave her a letter from her father, assured her his vessel 
 would leave promptly on time. He had the brusque man- 
 ner of a seaman — a tall, lean, sandy-haired giant, with 
 quick, blunt speech, active and shrewd — Yankee to the 
 core, which did not prevent him from being struck with 
 Zoe's dark southern eyes and dusky bloom. 
 
 Tuesday, at the hour announced for the steamer to 
 leave, Zoe drove up to the levee, but on looking from the 
 carriage window she saw no sign of preparation on board 
 the Lavaca ; no smoke issuing from its chimneys, and no 
 hurrying sailors. Instead, she saw groups of people turn- 
 ing away from the boat with disappointed looks. The 
 Captain saw her, and, coming up to the carriage, apologized 
 for an unexpected delay in the time of his vessel's leaving. 
 She could not get away before the next morning, owing to 
 the fact that a portion of her cargo had not arrived, and 
 he had received orders by telegi'aph to wait for it. 
 
 '' Government stores, I presume," said Royal, who, with 
 his sister, had accompanied Zoe to the ship. 
 
 The Captain bowed, but he looked embarrassed. In 
 spite of his very reasonable explanation of the cause of his 
 ship's detention, Zoe could not help feeling that there was 
 some mystery about the Lavaca's delay. She did not find 
 out what it was until next day — some hours after the vessel 
 had left the harbor of New Orleans, and when it was just 
 leaving the mouth of the river and entering upon the broad, 
 blue gulf. Zoe had gone to the rear of the ship for an 
 undisturbed view. On the deck, in front, there were a num- 
 ber of strange passengers and some United States soldiers, 
 under a burly Lieutenant, whose staring regard annoyed her. 
 Here she leaned unmolested on the railing and gazed in 
 calm enjoyment at the lessening shores — the expanse of 
 
172 yVILD WORK. 
 
 colorful sea, ruffled with light waves that here and there 
 were flecked with foam. 
 
 The chatter of some birds behind her drew her atten- 
 tion, and she turned round and admired the plump little 
 creatures, hopping about their rough cage, with green-blue 
 backs, white breasts, and short bills, red as coral — '* Ja- 
 maica sparrows," so the old sailor, who was feeding them, 
 called them. He himself was not an unpicturesque figure 
 — a little wiry, weather-beaten man, in a red shirt and tar- 
 paulin cap, but with a shrewd, bright eye set like a black 
 bead under his browned and wrinkled brow. He laughed 
 merrily at the frolics of his pets, let them peck bits of ba- 
 nana from his mouth through the bars of their cage, and 
 scolded them for not having taken their bath. 
 
 " I wish all captives could be as happy as your birds 
 are," Zoe said, amused at their antics. 
 
 "Yes, miss, so do I ; for instance, them jDOor prisoners 
 here on board with us. If they could take more kindly to 
 their lot, 'twould be better for them. Their stubborn ways 
 will only provoke the Lieutenant in charge of 'em and our 
 Captain, what's none too good-natured already. " 
 
 *' Prisoners on board this vessel ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 " What ! you don't know about 'em, miss ? Maybe I 
 oughtn't to spoke then. I knew 'twas a secret on land, but 
 I don't see how it can be hid here when we're all in one 
 'hollow oak' together, as the song says. The prisoners 
 was fetched to the city last night, and brought on board 
 here after midnight for fear of there being a row and a res- 
 cue by the mob if they come through the streets in the 
 day. It was in the night, too, that they took 'em out of 
 jail in some town in Alabama, where they had been since 
 they was first arrested. It was feared there'd be a rush to 
 get 'em and set 'em free if they took daylight to bring 'em 
 out." 
 
WILD WORK. 173 
 
 *' What had the prisoners done ? " 
 *'Went to the house of a man that was teaching the 
 darkies, miss, and rode him on a rail, tarred and feathered 
 him, and sent the purty bird back to his country, where he 
 set up such a croakin' as scared and angered the big bugs 
 so they ordered the bunch of law-breakers clapped into jail ; 
 and, when they got afraid there'd be a row, they telegraphed 
 to the Lavaca to hold on and get the prisoners, and take 
 'em on to the Dry Tortugas— the black rock in the middle 
 of the sea, miss, where they've got Dr. Mudd for splinter- 
 ing the leg of the chap that killed President Lincoln." 
 " Where have the prisoners been put ? " 
 ^^n the ship's hold, miss, a dirty, close box, for the 
 likes of them. I'm told they belong to good families, all 
 seven of them." 
 
 '' Then there must be some mistake as to their offense. 
 Southern gentlemen would not maltreat a man simply be- 
 cause he taught negroes." 
 
 The man looked at her shrewdly from under his old cap. 
 Then his httle eyes twinkled with pleasure. 
 
 "I see you are not U. S., miss. So I don't mind tell- 
 ing you. You see this steamer's a United States packet, 
 and everything aboard her is U. S., the Captain most of 
 all; he's the strongest Ead you ever saw. Well, most 
 of them chaps below are real gentlemen and good fel- 
 lows, miss. One of 'em was my lieutenant in the Confed- 
 erate navy during the war, and I got a chance to speak 
 with him last night. 
 
 "They're takin' 'em to Dry Tortugas for givin' a scala- 
 wag thief a ride on a rail. They reported him to the law, 
 and got insulted for their pains. Nigger school-teacher 
 was what he pretended to be, but he was a rogue, and he 
 lived by robbing the planters, getting the niggers to steal 
 cotton and corn from their employers, and bring them to 
 
174 WILD WORK, 
 
 him in the niglit and get whisky and tobacco for them. 
 He bought a little cotton for a blind, and packed and sent 
 off his bales by the dozen. The planters had stood it a 
 long time, with only a little cursin' and threatenin', that 
 just tickled the thief, when a fellow, a Texan, happened 
 to stop in the neighborhood, and put them up to taking 
 the law in their own hands, and getting clear of the rascal 
 in the way I told you of. He wasn't hurt ; only scared out 
 of his cowardly wits, and thought he'd do a good job by 
 playing off as a martyr to Southern prejudices. That's the 
 prisoners' story, miss, and I beheve every word of it. They 
 don't look a bit like rowdies, not even the Texan, though 
 he's all torn and bloody." 
 
 *^ Bloody?" 
 
 " He fought before he'd let 'em take him, miss." 
 
 *' Was he wounded badly ?" 
 
 *^I can't tell. He doesn't talk any, but he won't eat, 
 and he looks dreadful. Them handcuffs are bad for him 
 in his fix." 
 
 ** Handcuffs ! Have they got chains upon them ? " 
 
 ** You bet they have, though one of them soldiers told 
 me the handcuffs was to be taken off as soon as we were 
 fairly out at sea, and only put on when we stop in port or 
 go near the shore. The Texan, though, is to have 'em on 
 all the time, to punish him for — Whist ! here comes the 
 Captain. Be mum about the prisoners, miss," and the old 
 sailor turned off and began to whistle unconcernedly as the 
 Captain approached. 
 
 It was probable that the commander did not wish his 
 passengers to know the nature of the ^* Government stores " 
 he had delayed his vessel to take on board, but it had 
 already transpired, and his passengers had been besieging 
 him to give them a sight of the prisoners. He told Zoe he 
 had just had the hatchway thrown open, **and now," he 
 
WILD WORK. 175 
 
 said sarcastically, ^'I suppose you too have your feminine 
 sympathies excited, and want, besides, a chance to rail at 
 the Government and the Yankees. So will you come and 
 see my show ? " 
 
 She hesitated a little before she went round with him to 
 the forward part of the vessel, where the heavy iron-clamped 
 door of the hatchway had been thrown open, and a group of 
 men and women were standing around the oblong opening 
 looking down into the hold. Mrs. Moss — a pretty young 
 married woman, the pet of a husband twice as old as herself 
 — was down upon her knees dropping flowers to the prison- 
 ers. "Flirting with them already," the Captain said sar- 
 donically. 
 
 He pushed a gentleman aside and made room for Zee 
 and himself near the edge of the hatchway. 
 
 "There are your high-toned countrymen, Miss Vin- 
 cent," he said. 
 
 The men below heard the sneer. Eyes were raised, and 
 flashed defiance at the speaker. Others stood in stoical 
 quiet, a curl of contempt Just perceptible on their lips. 
 They were no common outlaws. One could see this in spite 
 of their soiled, disordered looks. Their handcuffs had been 
 taken off, and lay in a pile at the feet of the soldier who 
 had been sent to remove them. 
 
 " Here are only six men," said some one to the Lieuten- 
 ant, who was puffing at a cigar, and staring with bold ad- 
 miration at the unconscious Zoe. " Where's the seventh ? " 
 
 " Yonder he lies. His bracelets are not to be taken off. 
 He is too important a personage." 
 
 "The lead wolf of the pack," put in the Captain. 
 "Fought, and nearly killed a good soldier before he'd be 
 taken. Stir him up. These ladies want to see the whole 
 show. Make him come out from under that hat, can't 
 you?" 
 
176 Tr/zz> wo UK, 
 
 The man spoken of sat, or ratlier lay, apart from the 
 others upon an old wooden chest, another box covered by 
 a coat propping his head. His shirt-sleeve was torn and 
 bloody, his manacled arms were folded on his chest, his hat 
 slouched over his face. He did not move when the Cap- 
 tain spoke, nor when the soldier touching him said : " Look 
 uj), Hirne." 
 
 **Stop," cried the Captain, and, taking up a long bam- 
 boo cane that lay on the deck, he reached down and tipped 
 off the prisoner's hat from his head. 
 
 The man leaped to his feet ; his eyes blazed upon his 
 insulter with the glare of a caged and maddened lion. The 
 Captain recoiled under the sudden fury of that look. 
 
 "Yankee coward," said the prisoner between his set 
 teeth, "you would not dare insult a man unless his chains 
 made it safe for you." 
 
 The Captain was furious, but the Lieutenant prevailed 
 on him to say no more. 
 
 " You brought it on yourself by noticing the fellow," he 
 said. 
 
 That night the Lavaca reached Pensacola, and lay at 
 anchor for some hours in its magnificent bay ; and the next 
 afternoon she was lying at the wharf of the Navy Yard. 
 It was warm and sultry. The hatchway was open, and pass- 
 ing near it Zoe saw that the men were handcuffed again, as 
 the old sailor had said they would be whenever the vessel 
 approached the shore. A tall, bony woman, in black bom- 
 bazine and green spectacles, with the look of a female lec- 
 turer, was standing up under an umbrella, close to the edge 
 of the opening, haranguing the unfortunates below upon 
 the error of their ways, and dropping down upon them a 
 shower of tracts. Most of them sat passive under her elo- 
 quence ; a few smiled disdainfully as they took in their man- 
 acled hands the tracts that fluttered down to them. As 
 
WILD WORK 177 
 
 she turned off out of breath one of them returned thanks 
 with humorous unction ; another read the title of his tract, 
 "Bread of Life." 
 
 " Considering our short rations, I'd thank the marm a 
 little more if this was literal instead of figurative bread," 
 he said. 
 
 *'If it was, be sure the close-fisted Yankee wouldn't be 
 so quick to give it," responded the sardonic voice of the 
 man with blood on his sleeve as he turned his head on his 
 hard pillow and smiled grimly. 
 
 A small schooner from Cedar Keys loaded with oranges 
 and bananas had come alongside the Lavaca. Zoe bought 
 the finest bunch of yellow bananas in the lofc, and got the 
 old sailor, Jack Barnes, to take them down to the prisoners. 
 
 " With the compliments of a true-hearted girl, my boys, 
 who wants you to know there's one friend you have on 
 board, if no more," said Jack as he deposited his luscious 
 burden on the floor and looked up to see that none of the 
 ship's officers were in hearing. 
 
 *' Thank her for us. Jack, and beg her to let us have a 
 glimpse of her," said one boyish young prisoner. *' She's 
 even nicer than her bananas, I dare swear." 
 
 "And you wouldn't be wrong either, my hearty- 
 Whist ! there she is ! " he broke off as Zoe stepped near the 
 edge of the hatchway and glanced down. Instantly all eyes 
 were lifted, all heads bowed — all but the sick man's. He 
 did not see her ; he had turned away his head and closed 
 his eyes again. 
 
 "Will not your comrade try some of the fruit ?" Zoe 
 asked, indicating him by the direction of her eye. 
 
 "He's feverish, miss, and doesn't care for any," said 
 one of the prisoners ; whereupon the man spoken of turned 
 his head and nodded, saying : "But he thanks you all the 
 same." 
 
178 WILD WORK. 
 
 He smiled, too, a smile that lit his stern features into 
 singular attractiveness. His bronzed cheek was flushed 
 with fever, his eyes watery bright, but the forehead, from 
 which the hat had been pushed away, was broad and white, 
 though it had lines of care upon it. It looked a totally 
 different face from the one she had seen before with the 
 scowl of sullen endurance or the flash of fierce resentment 
 upon it. 
 
 As she walked off she said to the sailor : 
 
 ** He looks to be suffering. I wish I could do something 
 for him." 
 
 '^ It is his wound, miss. It is an ugly bayonet thrust 
 in the shoulder ; the heat frets and fevers it, and I don't 
 think it's been half dressed. The ship's surgeon is sick — 
 or, to tell the truth, he's on a spree. It's hot and close 
 down there, and the flesh flies are swarmin'." 
 
 Zoe shuddered. 
 
 '^1 must try to help him," she said. *^Does he com- 
 plain ? " 
 
 ** Only of thirst, miss ; the water is so bad." 
 
 " And there is plenty of ice on board. At least he shall 
 have a cool drink. " 
 
 Going into the cabin, she sent for iced lemonade. It 
 came in a glass pitcher, looking cool and tempting. The 
 Captain accompanied the boy who brought it. 
 
 " It's nice," he said ; '* I made it myself." 
 
 '* Thanks. As you made it, I will drink a little of it, 
 though I intend it for another — the poor wounded man 
 down stairs. He has fever, and is consumed with thirst." 
 
 *' If I had known that, I certainly would not have made 
 the lemonade," the Captain said gruffly. *' Miss Vincent, 
 do you make it a point to encourage law-breaking ? " 
 
 "No, Captain Lester ; but I try to follow the law of the 
 highest Law-giver, which enjoins uj^on us care for our 
 
WILD WORK. 179 
 
 fellow-creatures. That prisoner is suffering from neglect, 
 and want of proper food and medicine. His wound may 
 mortify, and death ensue." 
 
 " I can't help that ; it's the place of Osborne and his 
 fellows to see to their prisoners. If I had my way I'd toss 
 the lot of them overboard, and save expense to the Govern- 
 ment." 
 
 Zoe made no reply, beyond a look under which the Cap- 
 tain changed countenance, though he affected to laugh. 
 Presently she asked : 
 
 ^^Will you not at least speak to Lieutenant Osborne 
 about the sick prisoner ? " 
 
 ^' No, Miss Vincent, it's no business of mine, and the 
 fellow has been insolent to me." 
 
 " Will you introduce me to Lieutenant Osborne ?" 
 
 He gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, 
 and made no answer on the instant. At last he said : 
 
 ^' I can introduce you ; but I warn you that Osborne is 
 not a man that a girl traveling without her friends ought 
 to know." 
 
 ^*I am not afraid he will do me any harm. I can take 
 care of myself," she said coldly. 
 
 ^^ Oh ! in that case I will give you the introduction. 
 Here, Osborne, come this way. Here' s a young lady who 
 wishes to know you. You're in luck, you see." 
 
 The officer came up at once, and with a flush of anger 
 on his forehead the Captain introduced the two in his 
 curtest way, and, turning on his heel, left them. The 
 burly Lieutenant, much flattered, bowed low and began an 
 elaborate compliment, which Zoe cut short by telling him 
 at once her reason for wishing to speak to him, and plead- 
 ing the cause of the sick prisoner with so much gentle 
 earnestness that Osborne, with his fat hand on his heart, 
 promised the man should be looked after at once — a promise 
 
ISO WILD WORK. 
 
 which he made it convenient to forget, or the fulfillment 
 of which he indefinitely postponed. 
 
 Tliat evening, while most of the passengers were eating 
 their early supper in the cabin, and the Captain, the Purser, 
 the Lieutenant, and some ladies, whom Lester had invited 
 to sup with him, were enjoying oysters, lobster salad, and 
 wine in the officer's private mess-room, Zoe, who had de- 
 clined the Captain's invitation to his supper, took the opr 
 portunity to stroll about the deck ; to look out over the sea 
 where, low in the west, the sunset fires had not yet died. 
 
 The hatchway door was down, and she heard nothing of 
 the prisoners. Presently, however, confused sounds from 
 below came to her ears, and in the midst of them Jack 
 Barnes came running toward her, having come up from 
 that lower world by some ladder and trap-door in another 
 part of the ship. 
 
 " Hirne has a fainting fit ; he looks like death. I be- 
 lieve he will die if he is kept down there," he said to her. 
 
 Shocked and distressed, she ran to the door of the mess- 
 room and called Lieutenant Osborne. The officer, bowing 
 gallantly, tossed off the glass of wine he had just lifted to 
 his lips, and, coming out to her, was told of the prisoner's 
 condition. 
 
 " Let him be brought up here and his wound attended 
 to," pleaded Zoe. " If there are extra charges for his being 
 brought up here I will pay them, and I will stand for his 
 good conduct." 
 
 Then, as she saw his hesitating, indifferent look, her 
 indignation flamed up. Coming close to him, she said : 
 '^ If you do not do this, sir, I will report you. I can not 
 believe that your orders were to treat your prisoners worse 
 than brutes." 
 
 He flushed. *^ Look here, miss," he began, excitedly, but 
 he calmed down and took on an injured tone. ''Miss Vin- 
 
WILD WOEK. 131 
 
 cent, I hope I know my duty to my fellow-man as well as 
 to my coimtry," he said. ^'I don't need to be badgered 
 about that prisoner. If he's sick I'll have him attended 
 to. There's so much infernal shamming about his sort it 
 takes a smart one to know when there's anything real the 
 matter." 
 
 He gave orders to have the prisoner brought up and laid 
 on deck under the canvas awning that had been put up 
 during the day as a protection from the sun. Zoe found 
 him there when she came with water and ice. He was 
 lying on a blanket, and, kneeling down, she put her folded 
 shawl under his head. The light of a lantern, flashed over 
 his face, showed that he had recovered consciousness. His 
 hands, as Zoe touched them, almost scorched her, so hot 
 were they. 
 
 ''Take off these handcuffs for the love of mercy," she 
 said ; "they are a mockery in his condition." 
 
 '' Better let them be ; he's only playing possum," sneer- 
 ed the Captain, who stood looking on ; but the Lieutenant 
 gave orders to have the manacles removed, and the poor 
 prisoner gave a sigh of relief as they fell from his hands. 
 The surgeon, still in no condition to attend the man, sent 
 word that the dressing on his wound must be kept con- 
 stantly wet in cold water, and cold applications must be 
 made to his head. Seeing that no one else offered to attend 
 to these directions, Zoe set herself to the task. The Lieu- 
 tenant, perceiving that she took no notice of him, and the 
 Captain, finding that she would not reply to his sarcasms, 
 went off after awhile ; and then the ladies, whom curiosity 
 or compassion had drawn around the sick man, gradually 
 dropped away, except the stewardess — an honest, good- 
 natured woman — whom Zoe begged to stay with her. The 
 two soldiers on guard hung the lantern near Zoe and with- 
 drew to the railing where they could chew their tobacco and 
 
182 WILD WORK. 
 
 wonder when they were going back to the command. The 
 stewardess talked herself tired, and began to nod. Zoe 
 kept up unremittingly her applications of cold water to 
 the bandages of the wound and to the hot, forehead that 
 throbbed so under her palm. He lay quiet ; only at times 
 he seemed to lapse into delirium and muttered incohe- 
 rently. Once he started up and gave the word of com- 
 mand : '* Forward, march," then stared around, met the 
 soothing look of Zoe, seemed to gather consciousness, and 
 dropped back upon his pallet. 
 
 Another time he spoke in Spanish, and once, when Zoe 
 had her hand wet in ice-water on his forehead, he snatched 
 it away, exclaiming : 
 
 " Off, snake ! Women are snakes. They creep into 
 your heart and sting it." 
 
 The instant after, as if yaguely remembering that he 
 had said something unkind, he turned toward Zoe, and, 
 taking her hand, put it mutely to his lips. 
 
 It was hours before the fever cooled, and he fell asleep. 
 Zoe sat watching him. He looked much younger now, with 
 the long lashes lying against his thin cheeks, his wet hair 
 in dark rings on his forehead, and the bitter look gone from 
 his mouth. At first sight she had seen a history written 
 upon his face — a record of stormy experiences and strong 
 passions ; characters almost repelling in their fierceness. 
 Now that sleep had softened these, one could see the fine 
 points about the face — the breadth of the brow, a hint of 
 tenderness in the mouth, of manly energy in the chin and 
 round throat exposed by the open shirt. A broad breast 
 was also laid bare, across which was seen a long, purplish 
 scar. 
 
 Jack Barnes came up, being at last relieved of duty, and 
 took Zoe's place beside her sleeping patient. At her direc- 
 tion he was covered with a blanket from the chilliness that 
 
WILD WORK. 183 
 
 was apt to set in as a reaction from the fever. Then leav- 
 ing him with Jack, who promised to watch him till morn- 
 ing, she waked the stewardess, thanked her, and went into 
 the cabin. The lights were turned almost down; she 
 thought everybody had retired until Captain Lester stood 
 before her. 
 
 " I have been waiting for you, " he said. '' Do you think 
 your father would approve of this nocturnal devotion to an 
 outlaw, a desperado who has worn the handcuffs before to- 
 day?" 
 
 *' I do not think my father would disapprove of my try- 
 ing to alleviate the sufferings of a sick and friendless man, 
 and I am sure my conscience does not." 
 
 '^It's a great salve to conscience in such a case when 
 the sufferer happens to be young and good-looking," the 
 Captain said, with his short, sneering laugh. " Miss Vin- 
 cent, good-night ; don't refuse to shake hands. IS'o doubt 
 you think me a savage, but I only hate to see sweet meats 
 thrown to dogs. There are others in this ship would give 
 its cargo for the attentions you are wasting on that vaga- 
 bond." 
 
 Early next morning, before any one but the sailors and 
 soldiers on guard were stirring, Zoe was dressed and out on 
 deck. The morning was fine, the sea was furrowed by a 
 lio-ht wind, and in the blue distance the coast line was 
 visible, just edging the horizon. Jack came up, cap in 
 hand, and gave a good account of his patient. He had 
 slept pretty well, and was now almost clear of fever, but 
 very weak. He (Jack) had prevailed on the cook to make 
 the sick man some soup, as he had tasted nothing since he 
 came on board, it being impossible for him to eat the bread 
 and salt pork rations of the prisoners. 
 
 Zoe went to him and found him quiet, but by no means 
 rid of fever. He put out his hand to her, and the slight 
 
184 y^^LD WORK. 
 
 pressure of his fingers and tlie look he gave her touched 
 her more than any word of thanks. He reported himself 
 ^^ better — almost ready again for the handcuffs and the 
 black hold," and then, as he lay propped up, his eye went 
 out over the sea to the shore-line not many miles distant, 
 and kindled with an eager flash. 
 
 " I could swim it, I think," he said low ; " and I'd make 
 the jump and try it, in spite of this hole in my shoulder, 
 if it wasn't that I know the bullets of those bluecoats yon- 
 der wouldn't give me half a chance. I don't want to die 
 at last by a Yankee ball. My work is not ended yet." 
 
 ^'I hope you will not think of running such a risk," 
 Zoe said, earnestly. *' I know you will not when I tell you 
 I made myself responsible for your good conduct. I pledged 
 my word that you would not try to escape." 
 
 ** Then your word must not be broken. I'll not 
 abuse your confidence. You have been very good to me, 
 Miss Vincent — disinterestedly good — and that's rare with 
 women." 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 "Yes; their goodness has usually dregs of selfishness. 
 In your case there are none . You could have no motive 
 but pure benevolence in being kind to a dirty, friendless 
 outlaw, especially when your kindness to him drew on you 
 the disfavor of your friends. I've seen that last well 
 enough, and I don't want you to make such a sacrifice for 
 my sake, young lady. Best avoid me ; I am an unlucky 
 dog, and I always bring trouble on the few that espouse my 
 cause." 
 
 " I have no friends on board or acquaintances for whose 
 favor I care. I will not avoid you, unless you wish it for 
 your own sake." 
 
 Again he gave her the look that had seemed better than 
 thanks. His blue-gray ej^es, that could seem points of 
 
WILD WORK. 185 
 
 flame at times, had at other times a strangely soft and mel- 
 ancholy look. That look, in connection with the bloody 
 sleeve, the wan cheek and throbbing temples, so moved 
 Zoe's sympathy that she determined to give him every at- 
 tention, nnmindful of the Captain's sneers, the imperti- 
 nences of the Lieutenant, and the gossip of the women. 
 She sat by him all the morning, listening to him. He had 
 just fever enough to excite him and make him talk — a little 
 wildly and disconnectedly at times, but with such sudden 
 flashes of quaint fancy, such wild, humorous, imaginative 
 turns of thought, that Zoe, looking at him, asked impul- 
 sively : 
 
 ** Did you never write poetry ? " 
 
 '* Yes, once. Once I dreamed I was a poet — and wrote 
 — things poured out of my heart." 
 
 " Where are some of them now ? " 
 
 *^ Where? Oh! that was long ago," he said, passing 
 his hand over his forehead. ^' Long ago — it seems long — 
 long. Before the simoom passed through my heart and 
 dried all its fountains — before — " 
 
 His brow gathered into a tumult, his long, slender fin- 
 gers grasped his temples convulsively as if to pluck out 
 some memory that writhed within his brain. 
 
 The spasm passed ; his hand fell to his side, and he 
 turned to Zoe with a smile of self-mockery. 
 
 '^How grandiloquent that was ! I meant to say, young 
 lady, that I wrote verses in my green and tender youth, 
 and thought myself destined to the poet's crown. I have 
 gotten bravely over that illusion, together with some others 
 born of the same verdant imagination." 
 
 His talk gave Zoe glimpses into his past life. She felt 
 that he had suffered some hard trial, some wrong that had 
 warped his nature. 
 
 He was without ties of blood or of law ; neither parents. 
 
186 WILD WORK. 
 
 brother, sister, wife, nor cliild, lie said ; nor any to care if 
 his bones should be left to rot on the Dry Tortugas. 
 
 She was alone with him the greater part of the morn- 
 ing ; others came up and stood or sat near for a while, but 
 the stolid look that came into his face and the silence he 
 maintained while they stayed were not encouraging, and 
 they soon moved off. The soldiers stood out of hearing of 
 his low tones, and Zoe paid no attention to their occasional 
 glances in her direction, nor to their half audible jokes and 
 occasional laughter. 
 
 Captain Lester came up sometimes, standing by with 
 folded arms, and eying Zoe with a look of haughty dis- 
 pleasure, or uttering a sarcasm intended for her ears. 
 
 "His tongue wags all right," he said once to the Lieu- 
 tenant. "If he can use his legs and arms as well as he 
 does his tongue — and I believe he can — you'd better call up 
 your jeweler. I see he has put the bracelets on the others. 
 I hear there's a lot more of sjmapathetic females who have 
 got wind of our precious cargo, and are coming from Appa- 
 lachicola in the Shamrock this afternoon with pies and 
 pound-cakes, bouquets and tears, and such like feminine 
 incense for our martyrs. Confound such nuisances ! I 
 wish the blockhead Government had found some quicker 
 way of getting rid of these fellows, or some other vessel to 
 send them off on. If there's a thing I hate, it's to be an- 
 noyed with sympathetic women." 
 
 "Don't let your jealousy run away with your pa- 
 triotism, Lester," retoi-ted the burly Lieutenant with a 
 chuckle. The Captain, affecting not to hear him, strode 
 away. 
 
 The Lavaca was now anchored in the harbor of Appa- 
 lachicola, half a mile or more from the picturesque little 
 town. The bay was too shallow to admit of the steamship's 
 nearer approach to shore, but a lighter — a little steamer 
 
WILD WORK. 187 
 
 called the Shamrock — was busy transporting the portion of 
 the cargo that was consigned to this port. 
 
 Little boats, containing fresh fish and vegetables, came 
 up alongside the anchored steamship. In one of them sat 
 a nut-brown woman, with a basket of green peas on her lap, 
 atop of which lay a bunch of fresh flowers. Seeing Zoe's 
 lovely face as she leaned over the deck railing, the woman 
 stood up, held out her bouquet, and, laughing till her white 
 teeth gleamed from her brown face, she threw the flowers 
 up into the girl's outstretched hands. 
 
 Zoe carried them with her to her seat, and gave a clus- 
 ter of the English honeysuckles to her patient. She sat 
 with the other flowers in her hand when the Lieutenant 
 came up. He had been drinking ; his face was even redder 
 than its wont ; he leered at the girl as his small, sensuous 
 eye took in the grace of her figure, the ivory curve of her 
 neck, the dusk bloom of her cheek as she bent over the 
 flowers she was rearranging. 
 
 '' Well, Miss Vincent," he said, '^ I've come to claim 
 the fulfillment of your pledge. You promised to pay all 
 extra charges if I would have your pet brought up here 
 and give him the privilege of fresh air and the light of your 
 lovely face. I've done so, and now I'm come to claim my 
 pay." 
 
 Zoe saw the look that darkened over Hime's face, and 
 thought best, for his sake, to give a playful rejoinder. 
 
 *' Will you take my roses in pay ? " she said, smiling, and 
 holding out her nosegay. " Kind acts should only be paid 
 for in flowers." 
 
 " I'd rather have one of the roses that bloom on your 
 cheeks," he said, bending over her until his whiskied 
 breath was hot upon her face. ^^ Come, now, it's only fair, 
 and there's nobody looking." 
 
 His arm went around her neck and tightened as she 
 9 
 
188 WILD WORK. 
 
 struggled. The next instant he was stretched upon the 
 deck, and Hirne was stamping him. Instantly three sol- 
 diers rushed up and caught the Texan from behind. He 
 turned on them furiously, but, as he did so, he staggered, 
 threw his arm up wildly, and fell back swooning. 
 
 The Lieutenant sfcrambled to his feet, panting and curs- 
 ing as he wiped his perspiring forehead and felt of the spot 
 where the Texan had planted the blow. Most of the pas- 
 sengers were in the cabin ; only one or two had seen the 
 incident, which had been all over in a minute. The Cap- 
 tain came up, and, quickly understanding what was the 
 matter, seemed inwardly rejoiced. 
 
 '^ Now," he said, pointing to Hirne, who had recovered 
 from his swoon, *' I guess you'll have that fellow hand- 
 cuffed, and send him below, as I told you to. You'll 
 have him to account for, else. He's shamming for a pur- 
 pose." 
 
 Hirne was taken below. He nerved himself to walk 
 firmly, but Zoe could see that he staggered. As he passed 
 her he held out his hand ; she had just time to give him 
 hers, to feel her fingers pressed in a convulsive clasp, when 
 he was roughly pushed on by the soldiers. 
 
 Fresh blood-stains were on his arm and shoulder from 
 his reopened wound ; his face was ghastly. 
 
 " He will die," moaned Zoe, in the solitude of her state- 
 room. ** I have killed him instead of helping him." 
 
 She saw him no more during the trip, save one glimpse 
 she got of him by the light of the ship's torches as the 
 prisoners were carried ashore at the Dry Tortugas. From 
 her state-room window she was watching with strained 
 eyes ; she saw him come out supported by Jack Barnes 
 and walking with difficulty. The light of the torch 
 flared one moment over his pale face and over the gloom 
 and barrenness of the island prison. Then the file of 
 
WILD WORK. 189 
 
 prisoners, and the blue coats and flashing bayonets of 
 the soldier guard were swallowed up in the shadows of 
 midnight. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ZoE had returned to New Orleans in the early autumn. 
 She had drooped through the long, hot summer in Havana. 
 Even her brother's home on Eed River, with its malarial 
 dangers, which she had learned to guard against, seemed 
 better suited to her health. She did not return in the La- 
 vaca. Captain Lester had shown his preference for her in 
 such rough fashion on the former trip that she had no wish 
 to put herself in his company. 
 
 They passed the Dry Tortugas in the day. She learned 
 that the Alabama prisoners had been pardoned through the 
 intercession of friends two months before — all but one — the 
 ^^ ringleader of the mischief," said her informant, and she 
 knew he spoke of Hirne. 
 
 '^ And where is he ? " she asked with forced calmness. 
 
 ^^ Drowned or escaped, it is hard to tell which. He gave 
 the guard the slip in the night ; a soldier saw and pursued 
 him, and was close to him when he took to the water, ex- 
 claiming as he jumped in, ' Good-by, I'm going to Davy's 
 Locker.' The man thought he had drowned himself, but 
 some of the others knew him to be a good swimmer, . and, 
 as a schooner was lying becalmed three miles away, it is 
 possible he may have got to her. They would have over- 
 hauled the schooner next morning, but a wind sprang up 
 about daylight, and she was out of sight in no time." 
 
 Zoe stayed a month in New Orleans, where she had good 
 friends besides the sister and mother of young West. It had 
 
190 WILD WORK 
 
 been understood that she would marry Royal in December, 
 but she urged her languid health and other considerations 
 of a prudential nature as reasons to put off the marriage. 
 Attached as she was to Royal, with no idea of breaking her 
 engagement to him, she shrank from the thought of merg- 
 ing their pleasant relation into the closer one of marriage. 
 
 In November she returned home with her brother, who 
 had made his usual fall visit to the city. It was during 
 this trip that the steamboat accident took place, which 
 Judge Pickenson had described to Omar Witchell. The 
 boat, a slow old craft, loaded to her guards, was mak- 
 ing poor headway against the current. The male passen- 
 gers, bored with the confinement and the slow progress, 
 took to gambling and drinking by way of diversion. Hugh 
 Vincent was drawn into both — contrary to his usual habits. 
 He lost money to a long-haired, black-bearded man, who 
 called himself Karles — a fellow with devil-me-care manners 
 — who played carelessly and seemed to be almost indiffer- 
 ent whether he lost or won. 
 
 Drinking and gaming were both running pretty high 
 one night, when the boat struck a snag that tore a hole in 
 her rotten keel . The pilot headed her for the shore, but 
 the water was pouring into her hold, and in the excitement 
 a lamp was overturned and a portion of the cabin was soon 
 in flames. There was a rush for the two small skiffs be- 
 longing to the boat, and in a very few minutes they were 
 launched and filled with passengers. Karles was the cool- 
 est man on board, and did good service in getting the 
 women and children first of all into the boats. Vincent 
 was in the first one, with his sister (as he fancied) by his 
 side. She had been indisposed, arfd had kept to her state- 
 room ever since coming on board. When the accident oc- 
 curred she was sleeping the heavy slumber that follows 
 upon the exhaustion of fever. Her brother had gone to 
 
WILD WORK. • 191 
 
 arouse lier at the first alarm ; but in the confusion of friglit 
 and the becloudment of liquor he had gone to the wrong 
 state-room and brought out the wrong woman, so wrapped 
 up that he did not find out his mistake. Zoe did not wake 
 until the last boat was about pushing off. Karles, the last 
 man to leave, was stepping into it when he heard a woman's 
 cry, and, hurrying back into the cabin already filled with 
 suffocating smoke, he saw Zoe standing in her white wrap- 
 per, her white face, surrounded by a mass of loosened 
 hair, looming spirit-like through the glare and gloom. He 
 started in amazement. 
 
 *^ Miss Vincent!" 
 
 She knew him in spite of his disguise of darkened beard 
 and hair. His face glowed ; with his arm around her, he 
 hurried her out of the burning cabin ; then he ran back to 
 bring her shawl, and her watch and purse, that she had told 
 him were under her pillow. He was gone only an instant, 
 but, when he returned, he saw that those in the skiff had 
 pushed off. I^or would they regard his command for them 
 to come back. The skiff was already too full, they called 
 out. Hirne looked at Zoe, and pointed to the shore, which 
 was quite near. The water meanwhile had filled the lower 
 part of the boat, and the flames were rapidly spreading. 
 
 " You will not be frightened to trust yourself to me," 
 he said. " Luckily, you know me to be a good swimmer, 
 else I would still be on the Tortugas. There, that is 
 brave ! " 
 
 He easily swam with her to the shore, but the water was 
 cold, the night frosty, and Zoe, not well before, was seized 
 with a chill that seemed like death. Hirne worked as hard 
 as he had ever done in his life to keep warmth and vitality 
 in her body. 
 
 Brandy and vigorous rubbing before a bright cypress 
 fire that had been kindled in a wood-cutter's cabin — the 
 
192 • WILD WORK. 
 
 only shelter the gloomy swamp afforded — at last restored 
 her. Hirne, through the force of his will and his readiness 
 at resources, constituted himself her nurse. 
 
 "It is only doing as I was done by, and not so much, 
 for what comparison is there between my clumsy services 
 and your gentle ministration ? " he said as she sat before 
 the fire next morning, dressed in the plain, dark clothes of 
 a lady who had saved her yalise in the boat. 
 
 The two brawny wood-cutters, whose hut had given 
 shelter to the unfortunates, were early astir, and, ransack- 
 ing their small stores, got ready a breakfast of hot coffee, 
 bread, bacon, and. wild honey, of which the hungry pas- 
 sengers of the luckless Alethia partook with zest. 
 
 It was noon before a boat ma(ie its appearance ; coming 
 up and being hailed, it rounded to and took on board the 
 little party standing forlornly on the bank. 
 
 Vincent had lost but little by the catastrophe. His 
 freight had been shipped by his merchant on another boat — 
 the same which had now taken them up. 
 
 Hirne had learned, to his surprise, that the man whose 
 money he had won was Zoe's brother, and, knowing he 
 would not accept it back as a gift, he induced Vincent to 
 play with him again, and permitted him to win from him 
 more than he had lost. 
 
 At the next town where the boat landed Hirne went 
 ashore and came back in a more civilized dress, with his hair 
 and beard shorn of some of its savage luxuriance. He sent 
 to ask Zoe if she would see him, and, receiving her answer of 
 '' yes," he came that evening into the cabin and talked with 
 her in a quiet, dimly-lighted corner. Cynical and erratic 
 as some of his talk was, it was undeniably picturesque and 
 original. He was no ordinary man, Zoe felt, and she set 
 herself to persuading him to put his good gifts to use, to 
 quit the vagabond life he owned to leading, and come into 
 
WILD WOEK. 193 
 
 the ranks of useful work and social intercourse. Half laugh- 
 ing,- he had said to her as Festus said to Paul, "Almost 
 thou persuadest me to be a Christian " ; then more ear- 
 nestly, " Would you care really to have me become a domes- 
 tic animal ? If — I thought that you — " He broke off 
 short with a quick gesture of self -scorn, but, meeting her 
 eye, he leaned suddenly near her, and said : 
 
 "When you sang that little song just now, I told you it 
 was as though you had felt the passion with which it was 
 charged, and I asked you if this was so. You made no 
 answer, yet my question was not an idle one. I had a rea- 
 son for asking." 
 
 "And I had none for refusing to answer," Zoe said, 
 while she grew paler with her effort to conquer a tempta- 
 tion. " I ought to understand the feeling expressed in that 
 little song, since it was given me by the gentleman to whom 
 I am to be married." 
 
 She did not, she could not look up to see the effect of 
 her words. He turned off from her and walked away. 
 Coming back in a few moments, he stood before her, looked 
 at her in silence, then said abruptly : 
 
 "I was an idiot to dream it. I might have known 
 there could be no hope in life ;for me." 
 
 Touched by his look, she said earnestly: "Do not say 
 that ; there is hope for you every way. You will come out 
 from under the cloud of the past ; you will put up the 
 sword of hate into its scabbard and use the brighter weapon 
 — mind — to carve you a worthy place in the world. You 
 will love, marry, and be happy." 
 
 " He laughed scornfully. " Marry ! I shall never do 
 that. I wish any woman a better fate than to marry me. 
 And as for your civilization, I'll have none of its narrow laws 
 and hollow customs to fetter me. I shall go into the wil- 
 derness, as far from its sounding brass and tinkling cym- 
 
194: WILD WOBK. 
 
 bals as I can get. When that palls, there's always fighting 
 somewhere to stir the blood, or to stop its circulation for 
 ever. I can join the starved handful of red-skins that 
 stand at bay against the trained West Pointers. Their sav- 
 age instinct of hate is at least more honest than most things 
 I can find in the world that calls itself civilized." 
 
 And with these reckless words he turned away. 
 
 That night the boat reached Vincent's plantation, and, 
 while he was superintending the discharge of his freight, 
 Hirne came to assist Zoe off the boat. He almost carried 
 her up the steep bank. At the top, and withdrawn a lit- 
 tle into the black shadow cast by a pecan tree, he took her 
 hands in his, pressed them to his lips — and left her — not 
 having spoken a word. 
 
 She had not seen nor heard from him since that silent 
 parting. 
 
 This was the man of whom she had at last found 
 courage to speak to Eoyal. The impression he had made 
 troubled her ; she could not throw it off. She found it 
 hard to reason herself into the belief that it was a mere 
 fleeting interest, bom of sympathy and imagination. It 
 was a relief to her that Eoyal thought it so. She wished 
 to be faithful in heart as in deed to her betrothed. She 
 was sure she loved him ; not, indeed, with that absorbing 
 devotion that one reads and hears of, and more rarely sees, 
 but then it was better so — better that her regard was of a 
 calmer and more practical sort than this intense worship 
 which, when thrown back on itself, consumes hope, energy, 
 life itself, as in the case of Adelle. Poor Adelle ! How 
 her eyes had followed her to-night when she came away — 
 how hollow, how wistful they were ! **I must be with her 
 more ; I must go to her to-morrow," was Zoe's last thought. 
 
WILD WORK, 195 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 She went to see her next day. She was met at the 
 door of Adelle's chamber by Witchell's mother, an angular, 
 grim-looking personage, who resumed her knitting the 
 instant she sat down. 
 
 '^What is this Gorgon doing here?" thought Zoe, as 
 she looked at the hard face and cold eyes. Adelle was sit- 
 ting up, but she seemed unfit to be out of bed. As she 
 kissed her, Zoe felt her lips quiver, and the next instant 
 the poor girl had her friend round the neck and was crying 
 with suppressed sobs. Mrs. Witchell looked up disapprov- 
 ingly. "Adelle is very nervous to-day," she said. "If 
 she would exercise any self-control it would be better for 
 her, and pleasanter for her friends. It was a mistake, her 
 coming here in this noisy city ; with all this excitement 
 she can not be so quiet as she ought." 
 
 Adelle dried her tears, and, bidding Zoe sit by her, 
 made an evident effort to talk about pleasant things, but 
 her thoughts seemed to wander, and she broke off her 
 sentences abruptly. Zoe glanced rather savagely at the 
 Gorgon. Did she intend to sit by in that stiff, silent, yet 
 observant way all the time, and exasperate one by knitting 
 —knitting imperturbably as did the knitters of the Revolu- 
 tion while the axe of death did its work ? The axe was at 
 work upon this life, Zoe felt, as she looked at her friend. 
 The hectic color on her cheeks could not hide how they 
 were wasted. Her respiration came in labored breaths 
 through her parted, feverishly-red lips, and Zoe's eyes de- 
 tected the blood-stains on a handkerchief that had been 
 thrust half under the sofa cushion to hide it. She looked 
 wistfully at her friend, as if her heart were full of some 
 grief she could hardly keep back. At last, to Zoe's re- 
 
196 WILD WORK. 
 
 lief, the old lady went out of the room to interview the 
 man who had brought the coal, and tell him what she 
 thought of his high charges. Then Adelle, stretching out 
 her arms to her cousin, said : 
 
 '^ Zoe ! he is going to send me away from him. His 
 mother is to take me away with her. This is why he has 
 sent for her. I know it ; I heard them talking together. 
 She says I am in Marshall's way ; that he can not attend 
 to his affairs here, I weary and trouble him so. Zoe ! 
 won't you tell him you think I am better ; that I will not 
 trouble him — no, not one bit ? That I will not fret any 
 more about his going out to night committees ? I will be 
 satisfied only to know he is near me, that I can see him, 
 and he will speak to me sometimes. But up there — away 
 from him— at that lonesome place ! Oh Zoe ! I should die. 
 His mother does not like me. She is kind, but it is in such 
 a way. She looks at me as if she thought I was a spoiled 
 child, and my sickness was only pretense. Then, not to 
 see him — when it is my only happiness ! He is my life — 
 my all." 
 
 A fit of coughing cut short the panting whisper. When 
 it ended there was blood on the fresh white handker- 
 chief. 
 
 "That is nothing," she said, as Zoe, who stood over 
 her, with her friend's head leaning against her, took up 
 the handkerchief and looked at it sadly. *'I have been 
 having these little haemorrhages a long time. Give me 
 that glass of salt and lemon juice ; that will stop it ; I am 
 stronger than you think. I am determined to do without 
 any more nursing. I am going to go out every day, and 
 you must go with me. Velvine is altering my blue silk. It 
 has got too large for me ; I always do lose flesh in the win- 
 ter. Zoe, you must stay to dinner. You will see Marshall, 
 and tell him you think I am improving, and that the city 
 
WILD WORK. 197 
 
 agrees with me. Hush ! there comes mother Witchell. 
 Hide that handkerchief, please." 
 
 She insisted on dressing for dinner, though she could 
 hardly stand the fatigue of the operation. The feyer flush 
 was fading, and she bade Zoe put rouge on her cheeks, and 
 arrange her hair so that it should hide the sunken temples. 
 Zoe, who was clasping her bracelet, noticed how she trem- 
 bled when she heard Witchell's step in the hall. The next 
 moment he came in, greeted Zoe with his usual courtesy, 
 spoke to his wife, and, tossing off his hat, ran his fingers 
 wearily through his hair. Adelle went up to him and put 
 her hand on his arm, and looked up at him, smiling. 
 
 *^ Don't you see how well I am ? " she said. 
 
 He looked down into her face, sweet still as a faded 
 rose. He passed his hand caressingly oyer her hair, and 
 kissed her with more than usual tenderness. In spite of 
 her efforts, tears rushed into her eyes. He frowned with an 
 annoyed expression. 
 
 ^' You are such a child," he said ; "do try to haye more 
 self-control, Adelle." 
 
 During dinner she exerted herself to seem gay and well. 
 Zoe saw how she struggled against languor and pain, and 
 was not surprised to see her, after their return to the sit- 
 ting-room, suddenly turn white, and lie back neryeless 
 against the chair. No one saw it but Zoe, and, rising quick- 
 ly, she said : 
 
 *'Dell, don't you need a little rest now ? I haye some- 
 thing to say to you in priyate. Come." 
 
 She put her arm around her as if playfully, and half 
 supported her into her bedroom, and made her lie down. 
 
 ''Not a word from you," she said, placing her hand 
 oyer the languid eyes. " Sleep now, or at least be quiet." 
 
 She sat by her awhile, and, leaying her resting if not 
 asleep, returned to the sitting-room. Witchell was speak- 
 
198 WILD WORK. 
 
 ing to his mother as he walked back and forth in the room. 
 She heard him say : 
 
 "Yes, I have decided upon it. It's best for her and 
 for me. I ought to be free to give all my attention to the 
 work I have here." 
 
 Seeing Zoe, he said : 
 
 ** Is Adelle asleep so soon ? I think of sending her 
 home with my mother, Miss Zoe. She will be so much 
 quieter there." 
 
 *' Will you go with her, sir ? " 
 
 " No ; it is impossible for me to leave." 
 
 '* Then do not send her away from you. It will be bad 
 for her. It will — let me speak plainly — it will shorten her 
 life." 
 
 " How absurd ! " spoke up Mrs. "Witchell, quickly. 
 "As if Adelle were really in any danger. Half of her 
 sickness is nervous irritation and low spirits. Miss Vin- 
 cent, you ought not to humor your friend's childish 
 whims. She will be much better on the plantation, where 
 there is nothing to excite her. She can have a good physi- 
 cian at hand, and my own attention. Then my son is to 
 be considered. He has business it will not do for him to 
 neglect ; a sick wife claims his time, and is a bui'den on his 
 mind." 
 
 "Let us think of her first," said Witchell, and he no 
 doubt thought he was speaking from his heart. "I am 
 sure the change will be to her advantage." 
 
 " It will kill her," Zoe burst out impetuously. Then, 
 fearing she would injure her friend's cause by saying too 
 much, she hurried out of the room. 
 
 Next morning slio had visitors, and could only send a 
 note to Adelle. A message was returned tliat her cousin 
 was "as well as usual." Rather late in the afternoon she 
 went to see her, and was surprised to find the doors of her 
 
WILD WORK. 199 
 
 apartments fastened, and seemingly no one inside. Turn- 
 ing away, she met the mistress of the boarding-house and 
 learned from her that Adelle was gone. She had left on 
 the five o'clock boat with Witchell's mother. 
 
 " Gone, and she was so opposed to leaving ! Did she 
 seem very unwilling, Mrs. Rose ? " 
 
 **Poor dear, she didn't seem to be more than half con- 
 scious of what was being done to her. Mrs. Witchell told 
 me herself they had given her a quantity of morphine to 
 quiet her. She looked quite dazed-like when they brought 
 her down ; not much more life in her than in a corpse. 
 And the driver tells me they took her on the boat the same 
 way. Captain Witchell knows best, of course. But, if it 
 had been me, I could never have sent her off that way ; I'd 
 been afraid I'd never see her again ; and she loves him so, 
 poor child." 
 
 " He's a cold-hearted wretch," cried the impulsive Zoe. 
 
 '' I think you are unjust, miss. He thinks it's best for 
 her. He looked sorry, but determined. I saw him hold- 
 ing her in his arms in the carriage. He looked at her ten- 
 der-like, but his mouth was shut together in the way he 
 has. He seemed to be doing something against his heart." 
 
 It was true. The man had had a struggle with him- 
 self. Greed of money and power had taken possession of 
 him. He felt he could gain a point by having all his facul- 
 ties free to work to his ends in these last days of the legisla- 
 tive session, and he determined to remove the obstacle that 
 his sick, clinging wife, with her exactions on his time and 
 attention, presented. He had quieted his conscience by 
 assuring himself that his wife was not dangerously ill, and 
 that she would be better out of the city ; but, when he car- 
 ried her into her state-room, and, shutting the door behind, 
 stood looking at her as she lay, so pitiful in her youth, her 
 faded loveliness, her death-like whiteness, the battle in his 
 
200 WJ^D WORK, 
 
 heart had to be fought over again. She was only half con- 
 scious of what was going on, so powerful had been the 
 quieting potion given her. She hardly knew she was go- 
 ing anywhere, and she had no idea she was leaving her 
 husband. She was soothingly conscious of his presence ; 
 her eyes had opened and lighted on seeing him bending 
 over her. She stretched out her arms and clasped his neck, 
 lie feared she had roused to a sense of what was going to 
 be, but she only whispered, *' You wouldn't send me away 
 without you, would you, dear Marshall ? " He spoke sooth- 
 ingly to her, and presently she drifted away into sleep. 
 The boat-bell rang; he gently undid the wasted arms, 
 kissed her softly, and crept out, with a guilty feeling at 
 his heart. 
 
 He never saw her living face again. When she recov- 
 ered from the effects of the opiate, and knew that she had 
 been betrayed, that her husband had sent her away from 
 him — to die, as she bitterly said to her heart — she sank 
 into a listless, hopeless state. She never complained, she 
 never spoke about her husband ; she seemed to be con- 
 vinced at last that she filled but a small part of his life, 
 and she strove to put the thought of him away from her. 
 She grew weaker daily, and still her strong, stirring moth- 
 er-in-law, who nursed her energetically, but with a lack of 
 that tender, forbearing sympathy that only comes from 
 love, refused to believe she was ill unto death, and insisted 
 she would grow strong if only she would eat more and try 
 to brighten up. 
 
 Omar was away upon business, else his affectionate at- 
 tention would have soothed that sad pillow, and he would 
 not have been prevented from sending at once for his 
 brother. 
 
 One morning Mrs. Witchell came into Adelle's room, 
 and as she stopped by the bed the girl laid her white ghost 
 
WILD WOEK. 201 
 
 of a hand upon her mother-in-law's, and, looking up at her 
 with her hollow eyes, said : 
 
 *^ Won't you send for mother ? I want to see her before 
 I die." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense!" the old lady said; "you are 
 not going to die, child. You will soon be getting strong." 
 
 Nevertheless, she shuddered ; that yoice and look went 
 through her with strong conyiction. She read death in 
 those eyes. She went straight and wrote a letter to her 
 son, telling him to hasten home, and dispatched it on a 
 boat that passed down that morning. There was no tele- 
 graph line, and it would take two days for the letter to 
 reach its destination. She also sent at once for the mother 
 of Adelle, even permitting the messenger to take the poor 
 half legible line the dying girl had traced as she lay on the 
 pillow. 
 
 " Mother, father, you must forgive me now— for I am 
 dying. Come to me. Adelle." 
 
 Colonel Holman was not at home when the messenger 
 arrived. His wife did not wait for him ; she came at once, 
 trembling, weeping, praying it might not be so ill with the 
 daughter whom she had not ceased to love and yearn over, 
 though kept away from her by the stern will of her hus- 
 band. 
 
 When she entered the room, turned to the bed and saw 
 there the wan wreck of her beautiful child, she dropped on 
 her knees as if pierced to the heart. Her bitter self-re- 
 proaches, sobbed out with her gray head bowed on her 
 daughter's hands, were heart-rending to hear. 
 
 She never left Adelle's bedside any more. When, five 
 days afterward, at the fading of a peaceful sunset, the 
 young life passed away, father, mother, and brother were 
 around her bed, holding her hands, watching with strained 
 
202 WILD WORK. 
 
 looks of mute agony the faint smile of love that shone on 
 them to the last. 
 
 She had watched the door ceaselessly that morning, and 
 they knew she hoped to see her husband enter ; but after 
 awhile she sighed deeply and turned away her head, resign- 
 ing the last hope that had power to agitate her. She had 
 only spoken of him once. In the middle of the last night 
 of her life she woke suddenly from a disturbed sleep with 
 a faint scream. As her mother leaned over her she drew 
 her close to her and whispered : 
 
 "I had a fearful dream. I saw Marshall swimming in 
 a bloody sea, with a bloody mist above and around him. 
 All at once, as he swam, both his arms dropped away, and 
 the cloud shut him from me. It was terrible ! And once 
 — before he married me — an old negro — old Margaret Sted- 
 man — dreamed the same thing, and told it to me. Is it 
 not strange ? " 
 
 "You remembered it, child — and it came to you in 
 your sleep. Dreams are idle things." 
 
 " Old Margaret said this meant evil to him. God 
 protect him from danger ! Margaret told me things 
 that came true. She said that I would only be a clog 
 to him, and he would tear away from me at last. That 
 has proved true — yet I loved him. I love him still. I 
 am glad, though, that he will be free. I know I was only, 
 a hindrance." 
 
 While the body of what had been beautiful Adelle IIol- 
 man lay dressed for burial in white robes with white flow- 
 ers on her breast, the keen whistle of a steamboat at "Star- 
 light Landing " told that he whom she had so mutely longed 
 to see had come — too late. He leaped from the boat and 
 hurried into the house ; went past every one without speak- 
 ing, and stood in the presence of the dead woman, who had 
 loved him so well. Stood looking at her with arms locked 
 
WILD WORK. 203 
 
 tightly over liis chest, and a tumult working on his brow ; 
 then knelt and buried his head in her cold bosom, while a 
 storm of remorseful agony shook his frame. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A HALF-MOOK hung in the sky. The summer air was full 
 of the scent of night-j essamine and oleander. The little town 
 of Cohatchie seemed asleep, for few lights gleamed from its 
 scattered houses, and in a grove not far from Colonel Alver's 
 pretty home a whippoorwill thrilled the silence with its cry. 
 The still sweetness of the night wrought even on the rest- 
 less pulses of Floyd Reese, and her step became slower as 
 she paced the walks in the rear yard, with the perfume of 
 flowers coming to her, and the shadows of the shrubbery 
 falling now and then over her figure, clad in thin, dark 
 gauze, with a black lace mantle over her head, through 
 which gleamed her fair brow and throat and her wonderful 
 bright eyes, whenever she passed into the moonlight. 
 
 No one was astir in the house, and the lights were out, 
 except the lamp that twinkled in her own room. Mrs. 
 Alver, whose health was delicate, had gone to bed at the 
 persuasion of Floyd, who had made her a cup of tea, and 
 insisted on her drinking it and lying down. 
 
 '^ Colonel Alver will not come home until late," she 
 said. ''I heard him tell you so. I will wake Rose and 
 send her to open the door for him, or I will open it myself. 
 I shall sit up late writing." 
 
 The step of a horse approaching in a quiet walk was 
 heard, and Floyd stopped by a summer-house, overhung 
 with multiflora vines, and stood just within one of its 
 green-arched doorways. The horseman stopped at the 
 
204 WILD WORK. 
 
 stable, dismounted, led in his liorse, and, emerging, locked 
 the door behind him, opened a gate at the lower end of the 
 back yard and came up through tlie shrubbery. He stopped 
 by the summer-house where Floyd waited. 
 
 '^I am here," she said softly from the shadow. "You 
 are late." 
 
 ** Yes, it was nine before the meeting broke up, and the 
 road over the hills is terribly rough." 
 
 *' What success ?" 
 
 *' As good as I could hope for. The meeting was largely 
 attended, but many are holding back. Slaves ! Witchell 
 has bought them with a few bushels of corn and a little 
 meat, or else empty promises." 
 
 '^Did you address the meeting ?" 
 
 *'I spoke again and again, was called for with enthusi- 
 asm. They seemed fired up to any point I could wish. 
 There is certainly a wonderful change in the last few months. 
 The people are shaking off their paralysis. Hopeless sub- 
 missiveness is gone. They begin to believe that "Witchell 
 is not necessarily their destiny, and they his slaves. At least 
 a majority feel this way, and are ready to band together to 
 resist the Radical clique, but the poorer class on the Hills 
 belong to Witchell, body and soul, and these, with the ne- 
 groes, will beat us at the polls, even if the voting is fair, 
 which it will not be. Yent pretends he is bringing the 
 negroes over, but I see little sign of it. He never tried to 
 do it before Witchell dismissed him from his office of sheriff, 
 and now he can not. Curse and expose Witchell as he does 
 with all his wordy fury, he can no longer lead the negroes. 
 He has lost his prestige of office. They look on him with 
 suspicion. They are shrewd enough to suspect that all his 
 denouncing of the Radicals is mere spite. " 
 
 *^ Still you may use him other ways. He is a slippery 
 tool, and requires that you keep your hand firmly upon 
 
WILD WORK. 205 
 
 him. Did you urge the measure you promised to propose ? 
 The time is ripe for it. The Radical Convention is close at 
 hand." 
 
 ** The time is ripe for it, and I did propose the measure. 
 I brought it out in artful climax. After I had shown how 
 we were tied hand and foot by tyrannical laws enforced at 
 the point of the bayonet, how we were made to accept the 
 rule of corrupt men, who insulted and robbed us, I asked 
 what should be done ? The laws, the Government, gave us 
 no redress ; should we not rise up as a body, and shake our- 
 selves free from this incubus ? Should we not force these 
 men to resign, even at the muzzle of the shot-gun ? " 
 
 *^ And how did they receive this ?" 
 
 *^They responded warmly, but I am afraid of their 
 timidity when the time comes to act. If the movement 
 could be unanimous, I would not fear, but Witchell has too 
 many friends here and in other parishes as well. When I 
 
 spoke to the White League in N last week, and proposed 
 
 that that parish should force its scoundrelly officers to re- 
 sign, there was vehement approval, and a resolution passed 
 that the measure should be put in force. I believe that it 
 will be. The Radical officers in that parish are not the 
 chosen of Witchell — ^the friends and the kin of this man — 
 curse him ! — who has such a devil's power of blinding igno- 
 rant people that he can make them believe his black record 
 is as white as snow. But will they oust him from office ? 
 Will our own parish dare to rid itself of the men — ^his tools 
 and his blood — that he has fastened upon it ? " 
 
 ** It will ; it must. It must force them to resign before 
 a month is over. Your White League must be kept full 
 
 strung. There must be no let down. If N thrusts out its 
 
 officers, that will give our parish courage. You have worked 
 well, you have gained much ground ; it is too late to give 
 up now. You must fight it out. These men must be 
 
206 WILD WORE. 
 
 rooted out, even if they have to be destroyed. If they were 
 made away with, you would have nothing to fear ; no other 
 Kadical set would dare to live and rule here. No other 
 Kadical leader can ever take the hold upon the people that 
 Witchell has. Destroy them — it will be a just deed — and 
 leave the way clear for better men." 
 
 Four months ago this suggestion had horrified him. It 
 did not do so now, so morally undermining had been the 
 gradual subtile influence of this woman. And he now felt 
 the excitement of one who engages in a game or a combat. 
 He only said : 
 
 *' To destroy them would be to ruin our cause. Ifc would 
 be to rot in prison." 
 
 **Not if they seemed to bring their destruction upon 
 themselves. The people are fully charged with indigna- 
 tion ; it needs but a spark of aggression on the Eadical part 
 to make it take fire. The end would justify a little irregu- 
 larity in the means — would it not ? " 
 
 " In Witchell's case, yes. I am sorry for the others — for 
 one or two of them, at least. I think they are innocent. " 
 
 *^ Innocent! when they work into Witchell's hands? 
 Wlien they are his tools, his confidants ? " 
 
 ''His tools they may be, but hardly his confidants. 
 That brother of his has not worldly sense enough for a 
 shrewd man to confide in. He seems a gentle-hearted 
 young fellow. I saw his bride for the first time yesterday. 
 They were standing in the gallery of their little home, 
 feeding some tame mocking birds. She is a small, demure- 
 looking creature, and looked up in his face, as I passed, 
 with innocent adoration. Devene, too, is going to marry ; 
 a Southern girl who befriended him at Morefield, where he 
 had gone to collect Witchell's swindling taxes. It would 
 be a pity for these young creatures to be waked out of their 
 happy honeymoon by a storm of ruin — perhaps blood — in 
 
WILD WORK. 207 
 
 which the innocent would su5er with the guilty. No, that 
 must not be. Eeform must stop short of blood, or I will 
 draw out of this movement. " 
 
 **You can not. You are pledged to the movement. 
 You have set it going. It must acliieve its mission. It 
 carries all your hopes — remember that before you let your 
 weakness get the better of you. What if these men suffer 
 ruin ? They have ruined hundreds. "What would even 
 their death be ? A small sacrifice to freedom. No great 
 wrong can be righted without some sacrifice. You must 
 not think of the sacrifice. It is your duty to look only to 
 the purpose you have in view — to keep eye and aim for that. 
 Not to mind what worms you may crush." 
 
 The moonlight, by some weird quality of its own, brings 
 out the evil in a face better than the less subtile daylight. 
 A ray, glancing through the vine-leaves, fell* across Floyd's 
 face, and he thought how hard and cruel it looked. He 
 turned from her. 
 
 "You are no woman ; you have no heart," he said. 
 
 " No heart ! You say this to me — you for whose sake I 
 have steeled my heart and merged every feeling into sym- 
 pathy with your interests ? " 
 
 There was no hardness now in her melting glance. 
 
 " Yes, you who despise me as weak because this soft 
 night, the scent of flowers in your hair, the sweeter perfume 
 of your breath, your warm, beautiful presence close to me 
 here, soften my heart — make me feel a moment's sympa- 
 thy for the young loving pairs that may soon taste misery 
 and ruin." 
 
 " Then it is only a momentary weakness. You have no 
 thought of giving up your purpose ? " 
 
 " I have not. It is now knit into my very life. All my 
 hopes are staked upon it, even that of love. If I lose, I 
 know you will despise me ! If I win — but you have never 
 
208 WILD WOEK. 
 
 yet given me a promise— neyer one womanly token of affec- 
 tion — not one touch of that ripe mouth, not one throb of 
 that white breast against mine — nothing." 
 
 ** But I will," she whispered, shrinking back from his 
 arms, and catching his hand firmly in hers. "Have I not 
 promised ? This is no time for love dalliance ; but when 
 the fight is won — when the parish is free from its tyrants — 
 when Witchell is hurled from his seat in the Assembly, when 
 Alver is placed upon it— -Alver, whose genius and force of 
 will shall make him the political power of the State — then 
 all the kisses of these lips, all the throbs of this heart, shall 
 be too poor to thank him for having been so true to him- 
 self, so brave, so deserving the worship of a proud woman." 
 
 His eye, ordinarily so cold, glowed with blue fire under 
 his light lashes. 
 
 " Meantime ? " he said, drawing her to him. 
 
 She did not struggle ; she fixed her eyes steadily upon 
 him. 
 
 "Meantime, he will forbear caresses and give his mind 
 to the work in hand. Listen," she went on, stepping back 
 from him. " The Eadical Nominating Convention meets 
 in two weeks. It is time to take some decisive step. What 
 do you mean to do ? " 
 
 " Call on our parish officers to resign. Demand Wit- 
 chell's resignation through committees from the different 
 parishes he represents." 
 
 " And if he refuses ? " 
 
 " Press it upon him ; threaten him." 
 
 " And if he still refuses ? " 
 
 "We have gone no farther in our programme." 
 
 "But I have," she whispered. "Listen — " the sound 
 of a clock striking one — always a solemn sound — made her 
 start. 
 
 "Not to-night," she said, hurriedly. "It is too late ; 
 
WILD WORK. 209 
 
 I must go in. I will go first ; after a few moments you 
 can knock, and I will open the door." 
 
 She glided up the shadowed walk in her dark dress, en- 
 tered the back door, which she had left slightly ajar, and 
 went noiselessly up stairs to her room. She went down 
 again presently, taking the lamp with her, to answer Al- 
 ver's knock. 
 
 "What frauds we are !" she whispered, laughing as he 
 came in and took the lamp from her hand. Then aloud : 
 " Be as quiet as you can. Colonel ; Mrs. Alver has head- 
 ache." 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 It was a chill, rainy night. Judge Pickenson sat late 
 by his wood-fire, comfortable, though it was midsummer. 
 He could not sleep ; he was troubled with conjectures and 
 misgivings. To-day the Convention for nominating Eadi- 
 
 cal officers had opened its session at N . There were 
 
 rumors that it would not be allowed to sit. It was known 
 that Witchell was almost sure to be renominated, and there 
 was a growing disaffection toward Witchell. He had re- 
 ceived two anonymous warnings that a plot was on foot to 
 procure his downfall ; that a trap was to be sprung on the 
 members of the Convention, and the Eadical officers re- 
 quired to resign their offices or give up their lives. He 
 made light of the warning and rode off to attend the Con- 
 vention, unarmed, as was his wont, soundly rating the posse 
 of negroes he found waiting -to escort him. He dismissed 
 them, saying that he feared no danger and wanted no 
 guard. 
 
 Judge Pickenson had not attended the Convention. 
 
210 yi'ILI> WORE. 
 
 He had determined to withdraw from politics. It had be- 
 come too turbulent to suit his easy-going nature. And he 
 saw more serious trouble brewing. He mixed too inti- 
 mately with the people not to be aware that a secret fire 
 had been kindled within them, and that it grew more in- 
 tense every day. He feared it would soon find vent. 
 
 He had heard no news from the Convention ; all through 
 the day a feeling of feverish expectancy had possessed him. 
 It was still in his veins ; he sat listening to every sound. 
 Presently his ear caught the thud of horses' hoofs on the 
 sodden ground. He rose to his feet, caught up the lamp 
 and opened the door wide that the light might stream out 
 into the darkness. The gleam showed two tall, dark figures 
 coming toward the house. As they entered, Pickenson saw 
 that they were Witchell and the elder Devene — the legis- 
 lator — Witchell's most intimate friend. He received them 
 cordially, and threw a fresh pine-knot on the fire to give 
 them a welcoming blaze. He scanned their faces with his 
 keen, rapid glance, to see if anything had gone wrong. 
 They might not choose to confide in him now that he had 
 drawn out from among them. Witchell's countenance was 
 pale and stern; Devene laughed — a laugh more reckless 
 than mirthful — as he threw off his wet cloak and drank 
 down the whisky his host had set before hin. Witchell 
 had declined the liquor, and, throwing himself into a chair, 
 gazed moodily into the fire. 
 
 ' ' Something has happened, " the Judge said at last. ' ' Is 
 the Convention broken up ? " 
 
 "No," Witchell answered, "but the members have 
 taken it into their heads that it will be broken up ; that a 
 trap is to be sprung, of which I am the object. Such non- 
 sense ! But nothing would do them but I must leave. 
 They put the demand on the ground of their own safety. 
 They think it is endangered by my staying." 
 
WILD WORK. 211 
 
 '*But you — you think there is no ground for their 
 fears?" 
 
 '* There may be a crude plot hatched by a handful of 
 reckless agitators, stirred up by Yent, who is smarting at 
 having been turned out of office. It is merely a local ebul- 
 lition — a bluff game to try and scare out the Convention. 
 That is the extent of the movement." 
 
 Pickenson sat silent, his mouth gravely compressed. 
 Witchell eyed him with knitted brows. 
 
 ** Do you not think with me ?" he asked. 
 
 A slight shake of the head was the only response. 
 
 " Look here, Pickenson ; speak out plainly. What do 
 you think this movement means? I want a straightfor- 
 ward answer." 
 
 *^ You shall have one then, though you will not thank 
 me for it. Nor will you believe it. The movement means 
 more than a mere ebullition of personal hate. It is an ex- 
 tended movement — a part of the wave that is beginning to 
 be felt throughout the South. It means that the people 
 are worn out with being saddled by tyrannical, dishonest, 
 or ignorant rulers. They have waited and forborne, hoping 
 in vain for a change ; now they are gathering determination 
 for an active protest. A revolutionary tide has set in. 
 Many who have given offense will find themselves stranded 
 high and dry ; others, who are innocent, will suffer, like the 
 Tray of our spelling-books, for being in bad company. 
 That touches you, my friend. Mind, though, I do not say 
 that you are an altogether blameless Tray." 
 
 *' Speak out your meaning, sir. This is no time for 
 jesting." 
 
 '* It is not. I will speak in sober sadness. For years 
 
 you have held the destiny of this section in your hands. 
 
 You started out fairly in your administration, but the 
 
 doors of opportunity have been thrown too temptingly 
 
 10 
 
212 WILD WORK. 
 
 wide. Greed of rule and money lias grown upon you. 
 You have turned this parish, if not the whole district, into 
 an autocracy, governed by your will alone. The officers 
 under you are merely your agents. They carry out your 
 individual will. You have enriched yourself by means 
 that, if legal, are not fair, as fairness is regarded by honor- 
 able men." 
 
 "Do you dare tell me this ?" 
 
 ** I do ; because it is true, and because your conscience 
 has told it you before. I tell you in all sadness, for I feel 
 that you have thrown away a rare opportunity. You might 
 have made yourself the head and heart of this people. 
 You had done them many good turns ; you possessed a 
 genius for governing which they were quick to recognize ; 
 you had personal magnetism ; you could have lived down 
 prejudice and made yourself a permanent throne in the es- 
 teem and the necessities of the people. Again, I tell you 
 what I do in order to give weight to my warning — a warn- 
 ing you will most likely disregard. You shall hear it, 
 nevertheless. There is trouble ahead for you. The flame 
 
 you think so little of will spread. The officers of N 
 
 will be called upon to resign ; then the officers of this par- 
 ish — 5'OU, yourself." 
 
 "Stop, sir; you are certainly mad. Called on to re- 
 sign? They would not dare. And, if they were fools 
 enough to make such a demand, who would heed it ? Re- 
 sign the offices they hold lawfully at the bidding of a law- 
 less rabble ! None but the veriest craven would do it. I 
 suppose, sir, you would counsel me to humbly accede to 
 such a demand." 
 
 "That is my advice ; I give it in good faith, though 
 you ask it in irony. The wisest course for you and your 
 friends would be to give up your offices. You could still 
 live here and continue to make money." 
 
WILD WORK. 213 
 
 '^Thanks for tlie privilege. You are kind, sir. Iain 
 sorry I can not accept your counsel. I should despise m}'- 
 self for a coward if I were capable of following it. I re- 
 fuse to believe in the bugbear you have conjured up — " 
 
 *^ I differ with you," interposed Devene, who had lis- 
 tened attentively, shrugging his shoulders with an uneasy 
 smile at the Judge's unflattering comments. " Pickenson 
 is not the man to imagine bugbears. He has borne pretty 
 hard on us, but I believe he has given us an honest warn- 
 ing, and that there are breakers ahead, as he says. All the 
 same, I'm not prepared to take his advice about resigning. 
 We hold our offices lawfully ; no set of men has a right to 
 deprive us of them. They can not force us to give them 
 up. If they arrest and imprison us, they know they will 
 pay for it, and such violence would ruin their own cause. 
 The proper course, Witchell, seems to me to be the one you 
 refused when it was urged on you this morning — to go to 
 "Washington and negotiate for troops to be sent here to pro- 
 tect us and to help us carry the — " 
 
 " Silence ! " interrupted Witchell, sternly. '' Have you 
 no discretion ? " 
 
 He darted a meaning look at Judge Pickenson. 
 
 ''Can't help it now!" returned Devene, with an an- 
 noyed smile. *' The cat's out of the bag. But I am not 
 afraid of the Judge. He has never betrayed any of our 
 secrets, and he knows many a one of them. Yes, it is pro- 
 posed to have troops quartered here to keep things in order, 
 if not now, then a while before the election. You look 
 glum ; the idea don't strike you favorably. Judge." 
 
 '* It is the worst remedy that could be resorted to. If 
 it gave present help it would bring future ruin upon your 
 chief, all of whose interests are here. A hint that troops 
 were looked for would inflame the people to — " 
 
 *' Let it," uttered Witchell between his set teeth. 
 
214 WILD WORK. 
 
 " Since it comes to a question of force, they shall see what 
 hand a wretched rabble can stand against the Government 
 of this country. I rejected the suggestion about troops this 
 morning ; I felt I could hold my own against any opposition 
 now, or at the polls. But I have changed my mind. The 
 troops shall come ; these people shall see that the Govern- 
 ment backs the side of law and right. Devene, I heard a 
 steamboat whistle at Cohatchie a while ago. We will go 
 down to the landing before she passes here, and signal her 
 to stop for us. I prefer to leave at night. I don't care to 
 have my movements bruited abroad. Judge Pickenson, 
 you have been a true friend in times past. I believe you 
 were sincere in what you said to-night, but I will prove you 
 a * false wizard.' I will show you that my foot is but just 
 on the ladder. I will mount it in spite of a people who 
 do not know what is best for them, or what they really 
 want." 
 
 He turned to the door ; Devene with his lantern had 
 already passed out. Judge Pickenson hesitated an instant, 
 then he strode up to Witchell and laid his hand on the 
 Captain's arm. 
 
 " One thing more I must say, and I charge you to heed 
 it as you care for your brother and your friends. You are 
 going away ; take them with you. It is not best for them 
 to stay." 
 
 Captain Witchell's face went a shade paler. ''What !" 
 he said, " do you know of any plot against their lives ?" 
 
 ''No, I only fear." 
 
 "Are your people, then, assassins ?" 
 
 " They are not. And yet I would not answer for them 
 or any other people when blinded by excitement and misled 
 by the representations of a designing leader." 
 
 "Is it Alver you mean ? lie is too hot-headed to be 
 designing." 
 
WILD WORK. . 215 
 
 Captain "Witchell stood irresolute, liis brow furrowed by 
 perplexing thought. 
 
 *^If I dreamed that any danger threatened the lives of 
 my friends here I would not stir from this place. But I 
 believe nothing of the sort. I have instructed Omar and 
 the others to give not the slightest pretext for violence. 
 They will obey me, and their enemies will not venture upon 
 cold-blooded outrage. The very utmost they can venture 
 upon is arrest and imprisonment, and this will tell in our 
 favor in the end. Surely, Pickenson, this wild night has 
 set your imagination wool-gathering. You are as full of 
 forebodings as old Howard, but you can not infect me. I 
 have determined on my course, and I will not turn aside. 
 I thank you, notwithstanding." 
 
 He was gone out into the rainy gloom. Five minutes 
 after, Pickenson heard the whistle of the steamboat in an- 
 swer to Devene's waving lantern. 
 
 '' Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad," 
 he soliloquized, lighting a cigar, and standing at the win- 
 dow to watch the colored signal-lights of the steamer. 
 
 A few days later Judge Pickenson wrote to Witchell : 
 
 " You have received the news of your renomination. It 
 was a foregone conclusion. You have also heard that it 
 
 has happened in our sister parish of N , as I predicted. 
 
 The officers have been forced to resign. Myron and Judge 
 
 Boone fled here in hot haste and took passage for S . 
 
 A similar movement was urged here, but it fell through. 
 You are still strong in the parish of your creation. There 
 is little doubt that you will be reelected, when you will 
 have an opportunity to retrieve the mistakes you have 
 made. 
 
 ^'1 see no new demonstration of excitement. Our 
 officers are quietly attending to their duties. They are 
 cautious and guarded in speech and conduct. Omar seems 
 
216 WILD WORE, 
 
 to rely on his friends and to feci no alarm. I took tea with 
 him and his bride last evening. The little madam is a 
 number one housekeeper ; her muffins melted in my mouth. 
 Devene was there with his lately married wife — a hand- 
 some, high-sjiirited girl, showing her Southern blood in her 
 face. She seems passionately fond of her good-looking 
 husband. You have heard (haven't you ?) the romance of 
 their courtship. She was the daughter of the landlord of 
 the hotel in Morefield where Devene was stopping when the 
 Morefield tax- payers gave the collector that stormy recep- 
 tion. It was she who prevailed upon her father not to open 
 the doors to the mob, and she contrived Devene's escape in 
 a woman's ingenious way. 
 
 ** Edgefield's love affair does not prosper, and the fellow 
 looks a little careworn. He attends Avell to his business, 
 though, and makes a capital sheriff — worth a dozen of his 
 predecessor — that bullying humbug, Yent. It is a pity he 
 has set his heart on that little flirt Auzete. 
 
 *' Howard, too, looks down in the mouth, but it isn't 
 love that troubles our sage District Attorney. The old fel- 
 low is scared. He has dreams and presentiments. He fears 
 some terrible calamity is impending, and says there will be 
 wild work in the parish soon. I must own I partake some- 
 times of his gloomy humor, and fear with him that — But 
 you have already branded me as a ^soothless wizard.' 
 
 ** However, you see I feel easy enough to write you gos- 
 sip, and to put off no longer my trip to Texas, which I de- 
 layed — as I may tell you now — because I foresaw a possible 
 * little unpleasantness ' that I might help to restrain. I 
 leave now in a few days. " 
 
WILD WORK. 217 
 
 OHAPTEE XXL 
 
 A COMPANY of merry picnickers from Lake Clear 
 streamed into Cohatchie as the sunset was burnishing the 
 low, red waters of the river. A steamboat lay idly puffing 
 at the landing. The gay party, who had not yet had their 
 frolic out, jumped out of buggies and wagons, and, going 
 down to the boat, besieged the Captain — a well-known fa- 
 Yorite among them — for a moonlight excursion. The jovial 
 steamboatman was in high humor at having secured a good 
 return trip from this point without having to go farther at 
 this stage of water. He gallantly acceded to their request. 
 He would take them a few miles up the river and back 
 with all the pleasure in the world. They had good music 
 on board, too ; they could dance in the cabin, or on the 
 deck by the light of the moon. He knew Miss Eeese wanted 
 to dance. 
 
 He looked at her admiringly as he spoke. Hers was 
 always the handsomest face in any group of fair women. 
 To-day its radiant looks betrayed nothing of the disappoint- 
 ment and anxiety that gnawed her heart. Two of her 
 plans had miscarried in succession. But she did not de- 
 spair. 
 
 An hour afterward, as she was waltzing with the Cap- 
 tain of the steamer, she suddenly caught an eye fixed upon 
 her, looking fi'om beneath a slouched hat. She gave a 
 quick, furtive glance at the shabby figure leaning against 
 the wall. That gray hair, that mouth covered with a 
 grizzly mustache, were strange to her, but the hooked nose, 
 the lowering brow, the small, yellowish gray eye, gleaming 
 with a vitality at variance with the gray hair — ^these were 
 horribly familiar. A sick feeling came over her. She 
 stopped in the dance, saying : *'I have waltzed too much. 
 
218 WILD WORK. 
 
 I am a little dizzy. Will you get me a glass of water, Cap- 
 tain?" 
 
 Her partner moved away. The shabby figure darted 
 to a side-table, caught up a half-filled glass of wine and 
 brought it to her. 
 
 **Here is something better than water," said a voice she 
 knew too well. " Drink to our renewed acquaintance, 
 Mabel Waters." 
 
 Mechanically she extended her arm and took the glass. 
 Her hand shook ; the red liquid was spilled on her white 
 fingers. 
 
 "Wipe it off with your handkerchief. It comes off 
 easier than blood," whispered the hideous stranger with 
 a meaning look. '* You start ; if you did not know me 
 before, you do now. Come out to me on the deck five 
 minutes from now. I will find a dark corner where we two 
 old friends may talk of old times and future plans." 
 
 She made no answer. Dismay had blanched her face 
 and paralyzed her tongue. But she was used to controlling 
 herself. She repressed her emotion. She gave him a look 
 that signified she understood and would obey him. Five 
 minutes after he had gone out and taken his stand in a re- 
 tired part of the deck, she came up to him and stood near 
 without speaking or looking at him. He put out his hand 
 to draw her nearer. 
 
 " Come closer ; we must have a little confidential chat. 
 What, you draw back ? You scringe as if my hand was a 
 snake. It's not the first time it's held yours, though I 
 know well that no love for me made you let me hold these 
 little, soft fingers. No, you felt nothing but disgust for 
 the swarthy, dirty overseer, but you wanted to use him. 
 You loved another, or you loved his money and his high 
 place in the world. You thought if you looked sweet at 
 me on the sly that I'd go mad for you and put your lius- 
 
WILD WORK. 219 
 
 band out of the way ; and you would marry your rich lover. 
 I understand it all now, though I didn't then. I was fool 
 enough to think you cared for me, and I gave poor old 
 Waters his quietus, while that chicken-hearted Morris 
 looked on with his knees shaking and his face as white — 
 as white as yours turned just now when I called you by 
 your right name. He didn't guess I was killing the 
 man for my own benefit ; he thought he had hired me to 
 put him out of his way. It was along of him and his 
 cowardice that the killing came out on us ; but I was too 
 smart for them. I got away, and he swung, as he deserved, 
 for being such a fool. I meant to come back and get you. 
 I had a compromisin' note or two of yours that would bring 
 you to taw, as I knew, but when I slipped back I found you 
 had been accused, mobbed, followed, and had drowned 
 yourself, as they said, in tryin' to ford the river. I thought 
 you dead from that day to this, and here I find you alive and 
 as handsome — yes, handsomer — than ever. You won't get 
 away from me again. You don't like the prospect. I 
 see it in your looks. I know I'm not particularly fasci- 
 nating, especially with this grizzly wig and bleached mus- 
 tache ; never mind, you're pretty enough for us both, 
 and I've done enough to earn you. Then Fve got them 
 notes yet,^^ 
 
 "You wouldn't dare use them," she managed to say, 
 huskily. " That would be to betray yourself. There's a 
 price set on your head." 
 
 *' And on yours, too, my beauty. We can shake hands 
 there. We know each other's secrets ; neither dare quarrel 
 with the other. That's a good enough bond for close 
 friends. I've just come from California. I wasn't caring 
 where I drifted to, but now I've seen you, we'll not part 
 company ; I'll take you with me. Won't you go ? " 
 
 He pulled her close to him. His sensual, savage eyes 
 
220 WILD WORK. 
 
 gloated on her. She tried to free herself from that disgust- 
 ing embrace. 
 
 ^* Loose me ! loose me this instant ! How dare you ?" 
 
 *' How dare I ? 'That's a pretty question ; you know why 
 I dare. You give me the right, and you know it. . You 
 put it in my head to kill old Waters to get you." 
 
 'at is false." 
 
 " You didn't tell me to do it in so many words, but you 
 put me up to do it all the same, and you knew it at the 
 time. I know now ; it was that you might be free to marry 
 the other fellow — but he should never have had you. I'd 
 seen you both swung first. Say, are you going with me ? 
 Better promise at once. Or I'll call up the crowd and in- 
 troduce Mabel Waters to them." 
 
 A thought flashed into the woman's mind. 
 
 ** Yes, I'U go with you, Cobb," she said, "on one con- 
 dition. You must do a favor for me. I can rely on no one 
 but you. It is something you can do, without risk." 
 
 " Not another bloody job, I hope. What's it ? Let me 
 hear." 
 
 " You shall hear it. Not now. There is some one call- 
 ing me. They are hunting for me. Let me go. For pity's 
 sake, loose me." 
 
 " One kiss, then," and the thick, ugly mouth pressed 
 itself on her quivering lips, on her cheeks that grew dead- 
 white with disgust. It was gall and wormwood to the 
 woman whose fastidious taste was her only substitute for 
 conscience, but fear forced her to yield. 
 
 " Shall I kill myself ? " she thought as she hurried from 
 him. " Shall I jump over this boat's side, and end this tor- 
 turing fever of life ? Or shall I kill him, after I have made 
 use of him to effect my purpose." 
 
 She decided on the latter. 
 
 That night, after her escort had parted from her at 
 
WILD WORK, 221 
 
 Alver's door, she went up to the master of the house, who 
 sat on the gallery, moodily smoking a cigar, and asked : 
 
 *^ Have you taken that fellow out of the lock-up ? " 
 
 '* Yes, I paid his fine — a heavy one. There was no alter- 
 native. His brother was after me, threatening to expose 
 everything. I'm disgusted with them both. Their cursed, 
 blundering stupidity yesterday has nearly ruined all. De- 
 vene saw through it, and knew they were put up to pro- 
 voke a fuss. I am sure he did. The wretches got drunk 
 and blundered like idiots." 
 
 *^They are not fit for the business anyway. I have 
 found a man who is better suited to our purpose." 
 
 " You have found a man ? Who is he ? " 
 
 '^He is a man I knew in Texas. I have met him to- 
 night — luckily, just as we needed him." 
 
 "And you told him— ?" 
 
 "Nothing yet. I have appointed to see him." 
 
 "How do you know he will keep silent ? You rem^em- 
 ber I have a hold on these Nolan men to compel their si- 
 lence. I happen to know of that Colfax business of theirs." 
 
 "And I happen to have a similar hold upon this man. 
 I know of a secret episode in his life. I will tell 3^ou more 
 another time. Enough, that you can believe me, when I 
 tell you he is the right man for this work. He is cunning 
 as well as bold, and liquor has no more effect on him than 
 water, so he will not get drunk and overdo the matter as 
 these Nolans did." 
 
 Floyd went to her room, lit her lamp, and sat down by 
 it to pore over a letter she took from her pocket. She had 
 studied this half sheet of paper hours at a time since it 
 came into her possession. It did not come there honorably, 
 but that mattered little to Floyd, who permitted no such 
 immaterial obstacle as a sentiment of honor to stand in the 
 way of her will. 
 
222 WILD WORK, 
 
 Witchell's absence at this important time aroused the 
 suspicion that he had gone to ask for troops on the ground 
 that they were needed to preserve order in the parish. The 
 suspicion required to be confirmed, and Floyd would have 
 given much to have had the handling of the post-office 
 matter which might contain a confidential correspondence 
 between Witchell and his friends. But the postmaster was 
 an honest man, who could not be tampered with. He was 
 careless and unsystematic, however, like most village post- 
 masters, and sometimes permitted an overlooking eye while 
 he shuffled over a package of letters in order to satisfy the 
 monotonous inquiry, *^ Anything for me?" In this way 
 Floyd's falcon eye had had opportunities of reading the su- 
 perscriptions upon letters, but she had seen none she thought 
 might have been written by Witchell until two days ago. 
 That morning she saw from her window the ''pony ex- 
 press" pass by bringing a well-filled mail bag from the dis- 
 tributing office at N . She hastily threw on her hat and 
 
 ran down to the post-office, arriving while the mail was 
 being opened. She was permitted to ''help," through 
 consideration for her prettily-expressed eagerness to get an 
 expected letter. She caught sight of an address that sent 
 a tremor through her fingers. It was written in a dis- 
 guised hand, but she thought it resembled WitchelFs. She 
 dropped the fan with which she had been playfully repell- 
 ing the advances of a little terrier. 
 
 " Oh, my poor fan ! " she cried ; " Mr. Vaughn, your 
 dog is devouring it ! " 
 
 The postmaster made a dive after the dog. The fan 
 was secured ; so was the letter. It was safe in the lialf- 
 loose sleeve of Floyd's walking jacket. She was all sweet- 
 ness over the broken slat of her fan ; she pouted prettily 
 because she had no letter. She left a charming picture on 
 the young postmaster's mind. 
 
WILD WORK. 223 
 
 Safe in her room, she carefully opened the letter, which 
 was addressed to Mark Hollin — Witchell's brother-in-law — 
 who had a plantation and a '^ store" a few miles below 
 Cohatchie. As she unfolded the inclosure her face grew 
 blank ; the letter was written in cipher. But this only 
 stimulated her eagerness to know its contents. She had 
 had some experience in deciphering cryptographs. She 
 called up her skill and her fertile imagination to help her 
 solve this one. She sat up over it haK the night, but 
 without success. She bent over it again to-night, but not 
 very hopefully. All at once her color deepened. A chance 
 suggestion seemed to give her a clew to the puzzle.. A 
 moment's further study confirmed her triumph. She had 
 discovered the key to the cipher. She read the letter 
 through. 
 
 But its meaning was still mysterious. Evidently it was 
 an appendix to a previous letter containing secret instruc- 
 tions, which had been sent by private hand. She read : 
 
 '^ By this time you have my letter sent by B . I hope 
 
 you understand that the matter is confided to you alone. 
 
 The others must not know or suspect — least of all . 
 
 The measure is repugnant to me ; I would not employ it 
 if there was any other way to obtain what I want. But 
 let me say again that there must be no serious mischief 
 done — just enough to build a strong paragraph upon. Em- 
 ploy none but a safe man — one who is under obligations to 
 us. It would be best if you could get one of the numerous 
 Tonio family on the Hills. You know only the old man, 
 but they are all our stanch friends, and, being Spaniards, 
 know how to hold their tongues. This is a delicate mat- 
 ter ; to bungle in it would be fatal. I rely on your discre- 
 tion." 
 
 Floyd studied over this letter for five minutes ; then its 
 significance flashed upon her. 
 
224 WILD WORK. 
 
 '^The troops have been refused him !" she exclaimed. 
 " There is no ground for military interference, so one must 
 be created. It must appear that the negroes are being op- 
 pressed ; the new voting element in danger of intimida- 
 tion. * Mischief must be done,' just enough to 'build a 
 strong paragraph upon,' which means that some prominent 
 darky's fodder stack must be set afire or a shot fired down 
 his chimney, that the hue-and-cry of Ku-klux may be 
 raised. Here is a fine discovery ; here shall be a fine ex- 
 posure ! This letter shall be made public at once." 
 
 But her exultant look clouded. After-consequences 
 presented themselves. How would she account for the lei>- 
 ter being in her possession ? How would she prove its 
 genuineness ? how establish that it was written by Wit- 
 chell ? It was in a disguised hand and had no signature, and 
 no address save on the envelope. It would be assailed as a 
 malignant forgery. True, its publication might forestall 
 "Witchell's policy and prevent the coming of the troops, but 
 even without the presence of these Witchell was almost 
 sure to be elected. He wanted them mostly to impress the 
 people with the sense of his strong backing, and to give 
 his friends a fuller feeling of security in which to work for 
 him. 
 
 But Alver should lay the letter before the League. 
 They would not inquire too closely as to how it was ob- 
 tained — and they would believe it ; they were ripe for 
 believing anything against Witchell. It would be fresh 
 fuel to their fiery hate of him. Floyd was impatient of 
 Witchell's injunction — that the others, Omar especially, 
 should be kept in ignorance of the plot. She wanted them 
 all implicated. It was in her programme to sweep the dis- 
 trict free of them all. 
 
 *'I ought to be able to do something better with this," 
 she said, looking at the letter with contracted brow. She 
 
WILD WORK, 225 
 
 started up, and began to walk the floor with bent head and 
 hands tightly clasped before her. At last her brow cleared, 
 she threw up her head, her eyes shone. 
 
 '* Witchell shall be ' hoist with his own petard ! ' " she 
 cried. *' It is all here in my head. This letter shall be 
 resealed and put back in the office. Mark Hollin must 
 receive it. The copy of it which the League will read 
 shall have my own amendments, by which it will appear 
 that Witchell's underlings here have received instructions 
 from him to stir up a negro riot. Meantime Cobb shall 
 go to Mark Hollin, represent himself as one of the loyal 
 and manifold Tonios, and ask to be hired to him as a farm 
 hand. He is safe to be chosen to execute Witchell's * deli- 
 cate job ' of Ku-kluxing ; and he shall stir up the negroes 
 so effectually as to give color to a report that they are about 
 to 'rise,' and afford a pretext for a grand rally of White 
 Leaguers from the neighboring parishes gathered here to 
 suppress a bloody disturbance instigated by Witchell. Ex- 
 citement will rise to its highest, and on its tidal wave 
 Witchell and his crew will be swept to destruction. If it 
 is managed well the verdict will be : ' Served them right.' 
 The game will be difficult and risky, but there is a chance 
 for success. I play my first card to-morrow when I make 
 Cobb pledge me his help." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 The sun, low in the west, shone behind cloudy bars of 
 rose and gold, a wind crept up from the river freshening 
 the heated air, stirring the silver-lined leaves of the cotton- 
 wood, and moving the silky rings of hair on Zoe's forehead. 
 She sat on the gallery of her brother's cottage, her sewing 
 
226 WILD WORK. 
 
 dropped in her lap, her eyes watching the sunset gleam 
 upon the tops of the dark woods in the distance. 
 
 ** Look ! " cried her little nephew, pulling at her sleeve 
 and pointing to the road where two men on horseback were 
 approaching the house. They stopped before the gate, and 
 the taller of the two inquired for Mr. Vincent, and, being 
 told that he had ridden back in the swamp to look at some 
 wood his hands were cording, he asked if Mr. Vincent did 
 not need more wood-cutters, as their business with him was 
 to get work, and wood-chopping would suit as well as any- 
 thing. 
 
 Zoe glanced up at the two men, and thought they would 
 not do much at the wood business. Their appearance 
 showed none of the muscular development of men accus- 
 tomed to heavy work. Both were young ; the taller had a 
 supple, slender iSgure, straight as an Indian's, a pale, beard- 
 less face (the fact of being without a beard being singular 
 in the West), a small, pale, restless eye, hands tanned but 
 slender, and a foot whose shapeliness could not be wholly 
 disguised by the rough Texan boot worn outside the trou- 
 sers. In his manner there was a mixture of carelessness and 
 refinement at odds with his coarse, dusty clothes. His com- 
 panion, lower and clumsier in build, had nothing of his easy, 
 independent carriage and grace of look. He was swarthy- 
 skinned, with an eye dull yet watchful — like an alligator's. 
 
 They alighted from their horses and came up to the 
 house, the tall one seating himself on the step and begin- 
 ning to play with the children, the other walking up and 
 down in the yard whistling and humming a song, the re- 
 frain of which, as Zoe caught it, was : 
 
 " Mary ! sweet Mary, 
 You're false and unkind, 
 I'll roam the broad prairie 
 Some peace for to find." 
 
WILD WORK. 227 
 
 Ilugli came at last, greeted them in his usual off-hand 
 way, and was informed of their business. 
 
 ^^ Wood-chopping," he said doubtfully, as his eye ran 
 over their jSgures. '^ You're rather light for that work — 
 and your hands ! Are you used to work ? " 
 
 '^Certain we are used to it, like all poor devils. Give 
 us a job, and you'll see chips fly." 
 
 '* Where did you come from, and what are you doing 
 here?" 
 
 " Crops failed for want of rain in Texas where we were, 
 and we come here hunting work." 
 
 ''Haven't I seen you somewhere? I recognize your 
 faces. Stay ! wasn't your comrade here the fellow that 
 pitched into the Radicals so at Cohatchie last Saturday, 
 abusing Devene and Omar Witchell to their faces, and 
 swearing he could whip out the whole of them ? " 
 
 '' The same. It's Jim's way when he takes too much. 
 He must show his teeth right away." 
 
 '' He did more than show his teeth Saturday. He was 
 on the bite, and no mistake. He was outrageously abusive, 
 and I wonder Devene kept his hands off him." 
 
 ''He wouldn't if it hadn't been for that meek, sheep- 
 looking chap, Witchell's brother. He kept holding the 
 other fellow's arm and telling him to be calm, and remem- 
 ber what Marshall had put them on their guard about." 
 
 " If your brother wanted a fight out of them he went 
 about it too brash. He overdid the matter, and made 
 them suspect he was put up to it." 
 
 "That's Jim's foolish way when the liquor's in him. 
 I saw he was going too far, but I was bound to back 
 him." 
 
 " He got taken up and put in jail, didn't he ? " 
 
 "He did, and he got out too." 
 
 "Through Alver's influence, I heard. You are lucky 
 
22S WILD WORK. 
 
 to find such a friend. I wonder he did not employ you 
 upon his own place. Did he send you to me ? " 
 
 A shade of embarrassment tinged the young man's face 
 at the keen look and abrupt question. But he answered 
 promptly : 
 
 *^ Not exactly. He said if we were after work we might 
 try here, as you had a wood-yard, and he knew you to be a 
 square man to deal with." 
 
 " I didn't think Alver would be so complimentary to 
 me. Something must be in the wind. I'ye never joined 
 his White League that they tell me has got to be such a 
 strong organization." 
 
 *' You're a Rad, then." 
 
 " No more than Alver is ; but, all the same, I don't 
 want to bind myself by the rules of a clique got up by a 
 man who's more after oflBce than he is after principle, or 
 the good of the people. But this is drifting away from 
 business. You want a job of wood-chopping, and I can't 
 give it to you. I've more choppers now than I want. " 
 
 *' Anything else, then ? We're bound to stay around 
 here. Our horses are too jaded to travel." 
 
 " I've nothing you could do unless you could get out 
 shingles. I want a lot for my new stables, but I've half 
 promised the job to some darkies. You don't know how 
 to get out shingles, I suppose ? " 
 
 The young fellow cut a quick, half quizzical glance at 
 his comrade, who had taken no part in the conversation, 
 but had stopped his walk and his whistle to listen to it, and 
 stood rubbing the rust off the blade of a large knife with his 
 dirty handkerchief. Zoe, who did not like his furtive, 
 reptile eye, wondered if that might not be the rust of blood. 
 
 *' Shingle-getting is our favorite profession," said the 
 other. "We can take a premium on that any day. We'll 
 do the work cheap, too, as any." 
 
WILD WORK, 229 
 
 ''Very well, I'll try you to-morrow, Mr. . You 
 
 haven't told me your name yet." 
 
 " Nolan — Dan and Jim ; we're brothers." 
 
 '' You don't look the least alike. Well, you can sleep 
 in that little outhouse there, Mr. Nolan, in the corner of 
 the yard, and we will send you your meals." 
 
 ''Did your professional shingle-getters goto work all 
 right ? " Zoe asked her brother the next day, when he re- 
 turned from the woods. 
 
 "Go to work ! There's something wrong about these 
 fellows. Wanting work is an excuse to hang around the 
 neighborhood. They have gone and hired negroes to get 
 out the shingles, and I found them out yonder where the 
 hands were at work popping away at a mark. Rube says 
 they have whisky with them. I must turn them off. They 
 are up to some mischief likely." 
 
 That evening, after sunset, as Zoe and the children 
 stood on the river bank, they saw approaching a wagon, 
 driven slowly, with an excited group of negroes following 
 it. A little darky, running on ahead, announced to them 
 breathlessly that " dem two white men done font, and one 
 bus t'other's head clean open wid a axe, and he dead dar in 
 de waggin." 
 
 Zoe hurried up to the vehicle, which had stopped before 
 the outhouse. Jim Nolan and two negroes were lifting the 
 senseless form of Dan out of the wagon. They put him 
 down on the floor of the porch. His face was covered with 
 blood, his head a mass of clotted gore. His brother stooped 
 over him. He was only half sober ; his hands were stained, 
 his face streaked with his brother's blood. 
 
 He raised Dan's head and put a bottle to his mouth, his 
 hand shaking and the liquor spilling over the unconscious 
 man's face. 
 
 "Come, now, Dan, stop this foolishness; hold up your 
 
230 WILD WORK. 
 
 head and drink some of this. You'll he right in five min- 
 utes. Curse the hlood, how it runs ! It's only a scratch. 
 You give me a sight harder lick. You ought not to have 
 provoked me, throwing up that blunder. You know how 
 I am, specially when I've had liquor. But I'll forgive you 
 if you'll stop this darned foolishness. Open your eyes ; 
 drink a little of this, now do." 
 
 He tried to force the neck of the bottle between his 
 brother's teeth. Zoe was horrified. 
 
 " Let him alone ; can't you see he is dying ? " she cried. 
 
 *^ Dying ! " he turned on her with a red glare in his 
 dull-lidded eyes ; " dying ! he is not going to die. If he 
 does," he uttered with slow, hoarse emphasis, striking out 
 with his clenched fist, '* I die too. He's my brother, and 
 if I've killed him I'll go too. I'll blow out my brains the 
 minute I see he's at his last gasp. Here's what'll do the 
 business." He brought up a pistol out of his pocket and 
 cocked it with a sharp click ; then his roving, crazy glance 
 fell on his brother, and he saw Dan had opened his eyes. 
 Down he got over him again, the pistol was hastily un- 
 cocked and thrust into his pocket, and the bottle drawn out. 
 ''You're coming round old fellow, I see you are," he criSl, 
 fumbling about his brother's face with his bloody fingers. 
 "There wasn't much the matter. That's right, stop your 
 nonsense, and drink this and get up. Curse it, don't shut 
 your eyes again." 
 
 " Get away with your liquor, Nolan," Hugh said sternly. 
 He had just come up. *' Rube, set that bucket of water 
 close to his head. Here, Zoe, run and get some big towels ; 
 we must stop this bleeding. The doctor won't be apt to get 
 here before morning. Get back, Nolan ; 3-ou can't do any 
 good ; you're shaking like a man with the ague. Go and 
 wash your hands and face, for God's sake." 
 
 " You don't think Dan's in any danger ?" 
 
WILD WORK. 231 
 
 " Well, from the looks of all this blood, I should think 
 he was, and I'd advise you to mount your horse and get 
 away from here as quick as you can if you don't want to 
 get nabbed." 
 
 ^^ Never ; I'll never leave him in death or life. What'd 
 I do without Dan ? I'd be lost without him. He's all I've 
 got. If he dies, gentlemen, I'll go too, quick as hot lead 
 can send me. But he ain't a going to die, not he ; he's had 
 too many hard rubs to knock under for such a tap. Look, 
 there's his eyes open now. Hello, Dan ! you're gettin' all 
 right, old fellow. You don't like so much water round 
 you, do you ? "Want something stronger ; here it is. Get 
 away, nigger, I know what's good for him. There, you see 
 he swallows ; that'll bring him up. Put back the cloths," 
 he cried, as the towels dropped away and exposed the swol- 
 len, spongy scarlet cut, from which the blood continued to 
 flow. '' Yes, you'll soon be aU right," he repeated, spring- 
 ing to his feet and beginning to walk the floor rapidly, 
 whistling, and at last breaking out with 
 
 " O Mary ! sweet Mary, 
 You're false and unkind, 
 
 I'll roam the broad prairie 
 Some peace for to find." 
 
 Such scenes were repeated all night. Dan Nolan lay in 
 a stupor from which he occasionally roused and stared about 
 and spoke. Once he sank into a kind of swoon, and Vin- 
 cent thought him dead. Jim Nolan, down on his knees, 
 felt for his pulse. Shaking his head, he said, coolly : 
 
 " Yes, he's gone," and, pulling out the pistol, cocked it 
 and put it to his own head. 
 
 " Stand back, Squire," he said to Vincent. '^ Don't 
 interfere, or I'll shoot you, sure." 
 
 ''Don't you see your brother is coming to ?" shouted 
 
232 WILD WORK. 
 
 Vincent. Those words arrested the would-be suicide and 
 brought him to his brother's side. A moment after he was 
 whistling *^ Mary, sweet Mary." 
 
 At daylight the doctor came, and, contrary to Hugh's 
 fears, pronounced the wound not necessarily fatal, and the 
 patient likely to live ; though, having lost so much blood, 
 he would be very weak for a long time. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 He was ill a good many days, his brother nursing him 
 unremittingly, and Zoe helping in some of the lighter ser- 
 vices. Dan Nolan was a mystery to her. In his fine brow 
 and mouth, in his tones, and his quiet, careless manner, 
 there was a strange refinement, entirely wanting in his 
 brother, and foreign to his own present pursuits. He 
 had read, traveled about, mixed with artists and actors — 
 perhaps been an actor himself — for he had locks of hair 
 from the heads of not a few famous ladies of the stao^e. He 
 carried a flute, too, in his knapsack, and a set of chess-men 
 he had carved with much taste. 
 
 Once, when his brother had gone to town for medicine, 
 Zoe was sitting by him as he lay on his pallet on the 
 shaded back porch. He had been more than usually fever- 
 ish, and she had bathed his head and face. He took her 
 hand as she was moving away, and, looking at her, said : 
 
 ^' You are too good ; you don't know what a wretch I 
 am. What would you say if I told you that the hands you 
 have been bathing are stained with crime ? that they had 
 even meant to do harm to you and yours ? " 
 
 ''Harm tons!— Why?" 
 
 ''Hasn't your brother enemies ?" 
 
WILD WORK. 233 
 
 " Especially since lie refused to join the White League. 
 Alyer's motto is, * They that are not of us are against us ! ' " 
 
 He would not say any more, but closed his eyes and lay 
 back as if exhausted. Zoe's curiosity was excited ; her 
 fears were slightly aroused. She felt herself justifiable that 
 evening, after Jim's return, in stopping an instant just by 
 the window when she heard the brothers speaking on the 
 porch outside. Alver's name caught her ear. 
 
 "Did you see him ?" Dan asked. 
 
 " Yes, I came near breaking his neck, too. He treated 
 me as if I was a dog. Told me he had no further use for 
 us, that we had played the fool, and gave me twenty dol- 
 lars. Said that was enough for such marplots as we had 
 proved ourselves." 
 
 '* Twenty dollars — the devil ! As if he didn't make a 
 firm bargain for us to stay here till after the election at his 
 expense ! I'll get up there pretty soon if it kills me, and 
 I'll show him." 
 
 *^ Better not. He declared if I came up there again 
 he'd have me arrested, whether for what I did to you, or 
 K)r the old scores, I don't know. He said it would be 
 healthy for us to get out of the parish. " 
 
 "He's afraid we'll peach. He want's us out of the 
 way. He has got somebody else to do that job for him." 
 
 "I believe he has. I am sure of it. The town is in a 
 commotion to-day ; people standing about with their heads 
 together talking. Something's going to drop pretty soon. 
 An old fellow told me it was whispered they were looking 
 for the negroes to rise, and pitch into killing and robbing 
 generally." 
 
 "We understand that," Dan said, significantly; "at 
 least I think / do. If they can make believe the Rads 
 started the riot, it'll be better than their first plan. There, 
 
234 WILD WORK. 
 
 you've Imrt my head, old fellow ; that was an awkward 
 punch." 
 
 Zoe stole away from her place at the window troubled and 
 perplexed. Her situation just now was peculiarly painful. 
 Hugh had been taken down two days before with fever ; 
 her sister-in-law had a little babe not ten days old ; the re- 
 sponsibility of the family rested on her young shoulders. 
 She knew nothing of the two young men whom accident 
 had quartered upon them. They might be rogues or mur- 
 derers for aught she knew, and now she seemed to have 
 got an inkling of some evil mystery with which they had 
 to do. She had no neighbors on this side the river upon 
 whom she could rely. ''Every one for himself" was their 
 motto. They were narrow, selfish people, with whom, 
 moreover, her brother was not on friendly terms. His 
 quick, somewhat rough temper had resented some petty 
 meanness and meddling on their part. Then, too, he was 
 looked on with suspicion because he had not joined the 
 White League. True Southerner as he was, he had his 
 own notions, and he held that it would fetter his freedom 
 of conscience and of action to pledge himself to follow the 
 lead of any organization controlled by a man whose ambi- 
 tion was his god. 
 
 Thus Zoe felt herself in a manner isolated. Her 
 keen instinct had made her vaguely conscious that some- 
 thing was wrong — something unusual going on among 
 whites and blacks. Crops were neglected ; men rode about 
 restlessly, crossed the river, and gathered in Cohatchie ; 
 negroes left their work to collect in knots around the house 
 of some important character among them, and talk ear- 
 nestly. To-day she had noticed that they seemed to be ex- 
 cited ; their gestures were agitated ; she was driven to remark 
 their restless tramping and riding up and down the river. 
 Hugh's own farm hands looked at her strangely and held 
 
WILD WORK. 235 
 
 aloof. Eyen the cook was reserved and sullen. Zoe felt 
 the oppressing influence of all these things, but she had 
 no time to indulge in misgivings. Her day's work and 
 cares were not yet ended. She called the children to her, 
 gave them their supper of milk and bread, and put them 
 to bed. Then she saw to the comfort of her sister-in-law, 
 lying white as her pillows, with her fat, rosy babe sleeping 
 beside her. She administered Hugh's medicine to him, 
 and, after freshly arranging his bed and room, she left him 
 in charge of the old colored woman, who had been his nurse 
 when he was a baby, while she went out on the piazza for 
 the sake of the fresh air and to get a moment's quiet thought. 
 Some one was sitting on the steps ; he called her name as 
 she approached. 
 
 ''Is it you, Henry ?" she said. "Have you been here 
 long ? I did not know it. You must pardon me." 
 
 "I knew you were busy. Miss Zoe, but I v/anted to see 
 you a moment, if no more, so I waited." 
 
 He was a young farmer who lived across the river — a 
 good-hearted fellow, very popular among the men, and 
 deeply attached to Zoe, but quite timid in his worship. 
 She liked him. His simple, merry talk made some bright 
 spots in her dreary life in this place where people, wrapped 
 in the culture of cotton, were like cocoons in their cells. 
 
 "You wanted to see me, Henry; was it for anything 
 particular ? " she asked, sitting down on the steps near him. 
 
 " I wanted to ask you not to go to the ball to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 "The ball— what ball?" 
 
 " Why, the ball that Colonel Alver gives in his fine new 
 store that's just finished." 
 
 " I had forgotten. I believe, too, I was to have gone with 
 you. So many cares and distresses have come upon me 
 lately, that they have quite put the ball out of my head. I 
 11 
 
230 WILD WORK. 
 
 should not go anyhow, but why are you so particular in 
 requesting me not to be there ? " 
 
 '' I can't tell you that. Miss Zoe ? " 
 
 "AYhynot, Henry?'' 
 
 *' I'm pledged not to. But I may tell you this much, I 
 think. There'll be no ball, no dancing of any account. 
 It'll be broken up as soon as it begins." 
 
 "Henry, I insist on your telling me what you mean. 
 There is some mystery floating in the air. I feel it, and 
 it troubles me. What is it that will break up the ball ? 
 Why are you pledged to keep it secret." 
 
 ''We are pledged not to tell the secrets of the League 
 to outsiders, and your brother is an outsider." 
 
 " But he is a true friend to his country." 
 
 "I believe that. And I don't see why this should be 
 one of the secrets of the League. Everybody ought to 
 know it, seems to me ; you especially, who are so unpro- 
 tected on this place right now. Miss Zoe, I must tell you ; 
 it may put you on your guard. They say the negroes are 
 going to rise ; that the night of the ball they aim to sur- 
 round the ball-room and kill the men and carry off the 
 ladies." 
 
 '' Oh, what a wild project ! Do you think the negroes 
 would be such fools? What end would they have in 
 view ?" 
 
 "It's the Eadicals putting them up to it." 
 
 " For what purpose in the world ? How did it get out, 
 Henry?" 
 
 "It got out through a letter Witchell wrote to his 
 brother, telling him to stir up a riot with the negroes to 
 scare and kill the whites, so that the Radicals would carry 
 the election." 
 
 " You saw that letter ?" 
 
 " No ; we heard at our last meeting (that is, a few of us 
 
WILD WORK. 237 
 
 did) how such a letter had been intercepted in the post- 
 office at Cohatchie, and how, in some way, it had come to 
 the ears of the League leaders that the night of the ball was 
 the night chosen for the attack. The programme is that 
 we are to go there, as if we suspected nothing ; only, we 
 are all to carry arms. A few know why, and are pledged 
 not to tell ; the others suspect there is something in the 
 wind, and will come armed, because told to do so. The 
 Eadical officers are invited. Captain Witchell himself may 
 be there. They are looking for him from New Orleans to- 
 night or to-morrow." 
 
 "It all seems strange to me. It is strange that the 
 Radicals should wreck their own cause this way Why, it 
 is their policy to make out the negroes are the most peace- 
 able, best disposed citizens of the South ; and now to incite 
 them to a riot on the eve of election ! Why, that is to sell 
 themselves, sure enough. Of course the riot would be 
 quelled. The few white votes that might be destroyed 
 would count nothing against the injury that would be done 
 the Republican party in the State — in the whole South. 
 And Witchell has been working hard to gain the confidence 
 of a portion of the whites here, and has quite a number of 
 friends. It seems strange. I can not realize that such a 
 thing can be intended. Do you really believe it ? " 
 
 *^ Oh ! yes. Miss Zoe, I am afraid there is something 
 of it." 
 
 *^ It may be. I know there is something unusual going 
 on among the negroes. I have noticed they seem restless 
 and excited, especially to-day." 
 
 ^^Well, you know they are all stirred up. They are, 
 or they pretend to be, as scared as sheep the wolf has got 
 among. One of their big men — old Moses Clark — the 
 richest and most thought of darky about here, was killed 
 yesterday. Haven't you heard about it ? " 
 
238 WILD WORK, 
 
 " I stay here and nurse children and sick folks, and hear 
 nothing." 
 
 ** He was called out just at dusk and shot down — the 
 negroes say by a white man. It's a pity. He was a harm- 
 less, respectable old fellow. And now I hear to-day that the 
 cabins of two more negroes have been fired into, that the 
 negroes have been threatened by an unknown party, and have 
 had one or two anonymous letters through the post-office, 
 warning them to join together for protection or they would 
 be trampled out. Old Kube tells me they have come to 
 Levi Adams — here on your place — to know of him what 
 they must do. I can't think who's been working this mis- 
 chief to the negroes. I know it's not our League. They've 
 always frowned down Ku-klux measures of any kind. 
 Maybe all this is done by the negroes and Eads to thi*ow 
 dust in our eyes. If so, we'll be too sharp for them. They'll 
 be a little disappointed to-morrow night." 
 
 " As well as the poor girls who expected to dance. Why 
 do you not warn them all to stay away ? " 
 
 '^"We were ordered to keep silent. I have broken com- 
 mands, but I was determined to warn you. Miss Zoe, you 
 had better go to Oohatchie and stay with some of your 
 friends. It'll be very unsafe for you here, with nothing but 
 the swamp back of you, and so many negroes and so few 
 white people around. You must go across the river any- 
 how. Come and stay with mother." 
 
 *' And leave this sick family and these little children ? 
 JSTo, Henry, I shall stay right here. I hope this may prove 
 a mere sensational story — an election canard. I know our 
 people would not be so unprincipled as to incite a riot, 
 and I don't think the Radicals are such fools ; and the ne- 
 groes have not sense or courage enough to organize anything 
 unless put up to it — unless, perhaps, if they are really fright- 
 ened, to band together in an irregular way for protection. 
 
WILD WORK 239 
 
 That is little Ealph calling me. He will wake up his fa- 
 ther if I don't go at once and tell him a bear story to send 
 him to sleep again. Thanks, Henry, for coming to put us 
 on our guard. But I trust your warning will not be needed. 
 Good-night. '^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The day following — the day of the ball — was still and 
 warm, shining down on ripening cornfields and orchards 
 burdened with fruit. But to Zoe the cloudless day had 
 dark portents. Ominous signs met her eye. No negroes 
 worked in the fields ; no songs or laughter floated up from 
 the quarter ; no little darky came to beg fruit. Some 
 negro men came to the house to ask Zoe to open her 
 brother's store and sell them powder and shot to go hunting 
 with. They seemed to resent her refusal, and muttered 
 their disbelief of the excuse she gave. Early in the day 
 she saw the mulatto, Levi Adams (the negro-leader), ride 
 off from his cabin on her brother's place and take his way 
 down the river. When he returned some hours later he 
 rode up to a pecan-tree in front of his cabin and talked 
 awhile, with much vehement gesticulation, to some negroes 
 collected there ; then he rode away again, this time up the 
 river. As he passed Zoe, who was standing in her front 
 yard, he turned in his saddle and gave her a sinister look. 
 He was a remarkable negro — half-breed, rather, for he had 
 Indian blood in his veins. He rode, leaped, swam, and 
 dodged like an Indian. His skin was tawny red, his nose 
 straight, his eye keen and watchful. 
 
 The chief ferry for the planters who lived below bayou 
 Vincey was at Hugh Vincent's place. Before sunset they 
 
2^0 '^'^^^^ WORK. 
 
 began to ride up to the ferry by twos and threes on their 
 way to Alver's ball. Each man carried a gun and pistols — 
 strange ball-room equipment. Levi Adams stationed him- 
 self on the bank, motionless as a bronze statue on his horse, 
 and eyed attentively every group that crossed. Zoe could 
 see the scowl on his dark face from the piazza where she 
 stood. Dan Nolan, propped on his elbow as he lay on a 
 bench close to her, observed the negro and said, quietly : 
 
 ^'That darky's got the devil waked up in him. He's 
 scared and savage at once, like a gi'izzly that scents the 
 dogs. He's going to try to do something, he doesn't 
 know what. Jim Nolan," turning to his brother, *^ there'll 
 be fun at this ball. Get your horse and go. Come back 
 to-night and report. We might have had an invite ; yes, 
 and led of the ball, if you hadn't played the deuce. I don't 
 fancy you'll be welcomed there now by my lord. Never 
 mind, go ; I want to hear the news. " 
 
 At the same hour Floyd Eeese was nervously dressing 
 for the ball. Earlier, she had been down to the ball-room 
 putting the finishing touches to its decorations. As she was 
 walking back, in company with several ladies, they passed 
 a shabby figure sitting on a barrel in front of a store, smok- 
 ing a short-stemmed pipe. Pretty Mrs. Perrine pointed 
 him out. 
 
 *' Diogenes sitting on instead of in his tub," Floyd 
 said, laughing. Nobody noticed that she held up seven of 
 her slender, ungloved fingers — nobody but the shabby man 
 on the barrel, who answered the signal by a motion of the 
 eyelids. 
 
 As the clock was striking seven she came out upon the 
 back veranda, already dressed for the evening. She walked 
 there a little while, enjoying the perfumed dusk, then she 
 stepped down into the yard and glided among the shrub- 
 beried mazes in her floating draperies. She cropped tea-roses 
 
WILD WORK. 211 
 
 negligently, and did not turn her head toward a shaded cor- 
 ner of the yard, where her quick eye had seen a figure pause 
 outside the yine-covered paling. The figure stood there 
 motionless in the deepening dusk. At last Floyd ap- 
 proached the tree-shadowed corner and began to twist off a 
 flower spray from the yine on the paling. 
 
 "You haye done well," she said, low. 
 
 "Glad you're pleased," muttered a yoice outside. 
 "'Twarn't a pleasant job, though. That old darky's sure 
 to haunt me. He was a meek-looking cuss." 
 
 "Why did you deal with him as you did? Hurting 
 him pretty badly would haye sufficed. Alyer wanted no 
 killing. He is opposed to any bloodshed eyen — " 
 
 "No bloodshed, eh ? It's just so with the other side. 
 * Mind, Tonio, there must be no bloodshed,' says Mark Hol- 
 lin ; and no doubt he's wild oyer what's happened. But 
 when folks hire the deyil to scratch their backs they 
 shouldn't cry out if his nails go deeper than they bargained 
 for. For myself, I think it's best as it is. It don't pay to 
 do things half way ; and dead men can't blab. If Alyer's 
 so squeamish, he hadn't ought to'ye begun a thing like this. 
 That's not the last blood there'll be before this is through 
 with. He has sense enough to see that, surely." 
 
 " He shuts his eyes to it. Let him. The thing has gone 
 so far now it will carry itself through if you do your work 
 well to-night. How are the negroes ? " 
 
 "Stirred up to the right pitch; scared and crazy as 
 bed-bugs, most of 'em ; lookin out for somethin' they don't 
 know what. Some of 'em's sayage, too — primed with hate 
 and whisky, and rubbin' up their guns for what may come. 
 They're safe to make some sort of spurt. Some of the 
 worst scared are goin' to Omar Witchell to-night to know 
 what they must do and ask him to protect them. I put 
 'em up to that." 
 
242 WILD WORK. 
 
 *' It was smart in you. It will play into our hand?. 
 They will be found at his house to-night when the alarm 
 is given. If all works as it ought, there will be no proof 
 of a plot on our side, no suspicion of a trap even by those 
 who helped to set it. Now, Cobb, be off. You know every- 
 thing depends on to-night. It is nearly dark. You are 
 first to go across the river and fire the blank charges from 
 your repeating gun to scare Holcomb's messenger. Mind 
 that no one sees or suspects you." 
 
 '*Do you mean to say that none of the White League 
 are up to this ? " 
 
 "None but Alver. Even he does not know all that 
 has been done, or foresee all that we intend shall happen. 
 The others think they are coming to-night to quell a 
 possible negro outbreak incited by Witchell's Eing. Go, 
 now, Cobb. Eemember I depend on you to bring things 
 to a successful point to-night. Don't blunder, for heaven's 
 
 " For your sake I wont. Heaven has mighty little to 
 do with this thing, I take it. You know my pay has got 
 to be you, and the money Alver promised, and a good share 
 of the spoils. They will be pretty rich, I fancy." 
 
 ''Yes, yes ; go." 
 
 The figure moved off through the dusk, and Floyd hur- 
 ried into the house. Half an hour later she was at the 
 party. The long, wide room of Alver's new store made a 
 good enough ball-room. It was well lighted and decorated 
 with flowers. Hardly twenty ladies were present, but more 
 than three times that number of men stalked about the 
 room in costumes rather rough for the dance, and with 
 looks that betokened a fiercer excitement than belongs to 
 the ball-room. 
 
 Two or three of the Radical officers came in and walked 
 around, saying a few words here and there. Their manner 
 
WILD WORK. 243 
 
 betrayed repressed uneasiness and distrust. Floyd Reese 
 welcomed them cordially. Alver was unusually courteous, 
 but they met cold looks from many of the others, some of 
 whom had been their friends, and they soon withdrew. 
 Ominous rumors had come to their ears. Omar, though 
 troubled, put little credence in what he heard. Deyene 
 and Edgeville feared nothing. Hollin and Wallace were at 
 their plantations. Captain Witchell and Ed. Devene had 
 not returned. Howard alone was frightened. He had not 
 the youth and bold spirits of the others. He would not 
 desert his post, but he was a prey to apprehension. He 
 was shut up in his room to-night writing to the one woman 
 the old bachelor had ever loved — the woman who was to 
 have been his wife in the long ago, but 
 
 "Whispering tongues had poisoned truth." 
 
 He had made his will, and left to the child of his old love 
 the little savings of his life. 
 
 Edgeville's capricious ladylove gave him only a haughty 
 little nod as she passed him in promenading. 
 
 A month ago he had thought she really cared for him, 
 but "the tide has turned against us, and she has turned 
 with it. Let her go," he said to himself as he moved 
 away with bitterness at his heart. 
 
 An hour— nearly two hours— went by. It was near ten 
 o'clock. Alver's eyes turned often to the door, and he bit 
 his mustached lip impatiently. Floyd's laugh had a false 
 ring, and spots of color burned on her cheeks. At last 
 there was the sound of a horse galloping at full speed along 
 the hard street. A moment after a young man rushed into 
 the room, dripping wet, bare-headed, his face pale with ex- 
 citement. He walked straight to Alver, his spurs clanking 
 across the floor, his garments dripping streams of muddy 
 water as he went. He took a leather pocket-book from his 
 
244 WILD WORK. 
 
 bosom, opened it, took out a folded paper and handed it to 
 Alver, saying, breathlessly : 
 
 *' From Uncle Holcomb." 
 
 The contents of the note were these : 
 
 " Colonel : I got your note telling me of the rumor that 
 the negroes would have a meeting at Brownton to-night, 
 and I must keep a lookout and report to you by ten o'clock. 
 There is a gathering of negroes here, whether of a hostile 
 nature or not I can't say. They have been coming in by 
 two and threes since dark. Levi Adams and a few others 
 are armed, but you know they often carry guns. Levi 
 never goes without one. I can't make out what they are 
 after. I report according to request. 
 
 "Yours, H." 
 
 Alver ran his eye over these lines, then looked at the 
 young man who had brought the dispatch. 
 
 " You have something to report ; what is it ? " 
 
 " The negroes ! the negroes are in arms in Keener field, 
 this side of Brownton. They fired upon me as I rode 
 through the field on my way here. At least a dozen guns 
 were fired at me." 
 
 "Did you see any one ?" 
 
 "I saw the heads of several negroes above the cotton. 
 I think they followed me. I heard horses galloping behind 
 me at a distance. My horse was scared. He ran for the 
 river. I swam across, and came straight here to let 3^ou 
 know." 
 
 "You did well," commented Alver. Then, advancing 
 into the middle of the room, his tall figure drawn up to its 
 full height, his eye flashing like a sword of blue steel, he 
 said : " Gentlemen, you have heard what this young man 
 says. The note in my hand tells me that the negroes are 
 
IVILB WORK, 245 
 
 gathering at Brownton. Levi Adams, whom you know for a 
 desperado, is heading them. They will probably march 
 upon Cohatchie. They no doubt knew that this young man 
 was a messenger sent to apprise us of their gathering, and 
 fired upon him with intent to kill. We must immediately 
 take steps to patrol the town, form ourselves into vigi- 
 lantes, and arrest all suspicious characters." 
 
 " First of all, the d — d Kads that are at the bottom of 
 this," cried a loud, harsh voice — the voice of Cobb — at the 
 door. Loud shouts answered him. His words were echoed 
 from mouth to mouth. A chorus of excited exclamations 
 filled the house ; men rushed pell-mell for the door. Al- 
 ver's strident voice arrested them. 
 
 "Order! "he commanded. "A few of you see these 
 young ladies home ; the others must at once mount their 
 horses and see to their arms. Some of you I wish to send 
 in all haste to Morefield, Madden, Malta, and other towns, 
 with dispatches asking for men to be sent to our assistance. 
 We must be prompt. There is no knowing the extent of 
 this movement, or what form it may take. We must sup- 
 press it at the fou7itain-7iead. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes. The Radical fountain-head. We will sup- 
 press it," responded his listeners. "Go ahead. Colonel. 
 We're under your orders." 
 
 " Thanks," said Alver. He was in his element — looked 
 up to, giving command. His eyes lighted with quick- 
 ened intelligence and energy. Floyd -gave him a glance of 
 admiration as she passed. She herself was pale as marble, 
 but her eyes shone with hard, gem-like brightness. 
 
 Alver ordered everything with wonderful rapidity. Mes- 
 sengers riding swift horses were sent to the various towns 
 in hot haste, carrying dispatches that the negroes, incited 
 by the Republicans, had risen, and that Cohatchie was in 
 danger of being burned and its citizens massacred. Parties 
 
gl-G WILD WORK. 
 
 of young men patrolled the town in different directions, 
 stopping at negro houses, and calling upon the inmates to 
 come out and give an account of themselves. Most of them 
 seemed terrified and bewildered ; a few of the men were 
 sullen and defiant. Some were absent from home, and 
 their wives declared they had gone to Omar Witchell to 
 find out from him what was the matter, and what they 
 must do. 
 
 As the men rode from house to house in the moonlight, 
 their guns gleaming, their voices challenging, suddenly there 
 came a sharp report followed by a cry, " I am shot !" from 
 one of the young patrollers. A bullet had pierced his arm. 
 
 The first blood spilled at such a time — it is a breaking 
 of the seals of the vials of wrath and frenzy. It is the last 
 charm thrown in the caldron. At once the excitement 
 boils over, drowning prudence and reason in its flood. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 It was ascertained that a negro — a vicious, hair-brained 
 creature named Saul — had fired the shot which wounded the 
 young man. He was arrested, and with him another negro 
 who had been found in his company armed with a gun. 
 They were brought before Alver and the conclave of excited 
 patrolmen. They denied the shooting at first. Finally 
 Saul said, doggedly, **I did fire one shot." He was asked 
 if he was put up to it by the '* carpet-baggers." He an- 
 swered *' Yes." His '^confession" was proclaimed abroad. 
 It flashed like an electric shock through the crowd. Excite- 
 ment rose to frenzy ; indignation filled every breast. No 
 one reflected that the negro's answer might reasonably 
 be false — that, confused and terrified, the weak-witted 
 
WILD WORK. 247 
 
 creature might have sought to shift the blame of his rash 
 act upon another. Or that both the firing of the shot and 
 the accusing of the officers might have been instigated by 
 some malicious schemer, who had promised protection and 
 pardon to the ignorant tool in case he was arrested. The 
 people were too wildly moved to think of these extenuating 
 probabilities. They seemed to see the climax put upon 
 their wrongs — a hideous plot of blood and outrage un- 
 masked. They determined to endure no more. They would 
 form themselves into a body of punishment; retribution 
 should fall upon the guilty. They would clear the polit- 
 ical atmosphere by a storm of vengeance. 
 
 "When the sun rose upon the little town it looked 
 on the scene of a miniature revolution. The excitement 
 increased every hour. Armed men poured in from the 
 neighboring towns and parishes. Men, with their families 
 from the river and the hills, crowded into Cohatchie for pro- 
 tection. Strict military rule prevailed. A double guard 
 encircled the town, and no one was allowed to pass out of 
 its limits without a pass signed by Colonel Alver. Parties 
 of mounted men visited all persons suspected of lukewarm- 
 ness in the present action, and demanded that they coop- 
 erate in it, or render a valid excuse for not joining in the 
 movement. The negro Saul and his companion were carried 
 in a wagon to the outskirts of the town, a great crowd fol- 
 lowing. The wagon was driven underneath a gigantic oak, 
 the ropes, which were around the negroes' necks, were made 
 fast to a large limb, and the wagon was driven away, leaving 
 them hanging. Up to this last moment they had not ap- 
 peared to realize their fate. They seemed to expect par- 
 don. Saul was heard to enjoin his comrade not to ^'git 
 scared, it'll all come out right." Not till the ropes were 
 being tied to the limb did a look of anxiety come into his 
 half-idiot face. His eye roved in a wild search over the 
 
248 TF/Zi) WOEK. 
 
 crowd, and he shifted his quid of tobacco from cheek to 
 cheek. As the lashed team sprung forward, and the wagon 
 rolled from under the wretches' clinging feet, they seemed 
 for the first time to despair of pardon, began to tremble 
 and shriek, and beg for a minute's time to tell ^' how it 
 was." 
 
 The Radical office-holders, six in number, were arrested 
 and imprisoned. In addition to Saul's confession there was 
 the evidence against them that negroes, some of them armed, 
 were found huddled about Omar Witchell's house soon after 
 the alarm of a riot was given. The negroes' excuse that, 
 frightened at the hostile movements of the whites, they 
 had come to Omar to ask his advice and protection, was 
 scouted as false. The officers were confined in a building 
 in the center of the town ; a strong guard was put around 
 it, as much to keep the excited crowd from getting to the 
 prisoners as to prevent these from escaping. 
 
 The ones first arrested were Howard, Edgeville, Devene, 
 and young Witchell (respectively. District- Attorney, Sheriff, 
 Tax Collector, and Tax Receiver). Parties were then sent; 
 to the plantations of Hollin and Wallace (Magistrate and 
 Supervisor of Registration). These brothers-in-law of Wit- 
 chell were arrested and brought to Cohatchie and locked 
 up in the room with the other officers. 
 
 Meantime a court had been hurriedly improvised, and 
 a committee of citizens, with Alver at their head, sat in 
 judgment upon the prisoners' case in a building not far 
 from where they were confined. More than one of the in- 
 censed committee insisted on the death penalty for the im- 
 prisoned officers. It was noticeable that Alver did not give 
 his voice for this extreme measure. 
 
 The prisoners met the crisis calmly. Even Howard was 
 quiet. The old man sat with his eyes fixed on his wrinkled 
 hands that lay on his knees ; only now and then he looked 
 
WILD WORK. 219 
 
 up pityingly at his five young companions. Wallace and 
 Hollin talked apart in broken sentences. Devene wrote 
 rapidly in a pocket note-book ; perhaps it was something 
 to reassure his young bride, who had shrieked and clung to 
 him so when he was taken. Edgeville walked the narrow 
 floor, his hands locked behind him, his thin lips compressed 
 with half scornful pain. Omar sat at a table, his face bowed 
 on his hands. 
 
 Presently Edgeville stopped by him. 
 
 '^Omar?" 
 
 He raised his head slowly and looked at the young 
 Sheriff. His eyes were red and moist. 
 
 " You losing pluck, old fellow ? Brace up ; don't give 
 way. However this scrape may end, let's be game. What 
 will be must be ; it's all in a life." 
 
 " It is well for you to talk so, Edgeville, you who have 
 nobody else involved in your fate. You ought to thank 
 God you are not married. I'd give my right arm never to 
 have got my poor girl into this. Here she is among stran- 
 gers ; think what she must feel ! I see her this moment, 
 straining her eyes in this direction, seeing, hearing the 
 mob, trembling and heart-wrung. God pity her ! " 
 
 With a groan he dropped his face again in his hands. 
 
 Devene closed his note-book and beckoned to Edge- 
 ville. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? Resign ? They'll de- 
 mand that at the very least." 
 
 " No, I'll die first. I will not be forced to give up my 
 right." 
 
 *^A11 the others have agreed to resign to save their 
 lives." 
 
 ** Well, let them. You have all got something to live 
 for, unless it's old Howard, and his soul and body have 
 lived together so long they hate mortally to part company. 
 
250 WILD WORK. 
 
 Mine don't. I'd as lief have a bullet to cut the connection 
 as to wait till old age wore the thread in two. It might be 
 different if somebody else's fate was bound up with mine, 
 as in your and Omar's case ; but there's nobody." 
 He walked to the other end of the room, whistling 
 
 " I care for nobody, and nobody cares for me." 
 
 The door opened ; one of the guard thrust his head in. 
 
 '* Here's a book somebody sends to one of you named 
 Edgeville. It's a Bible, I believe." 
 
 Edgeville rolled up his eyes in comic despair. 
 
 *^ Are they sending us Bibles already ? I thought such 
 attentions did not come until after the death-warrant." 
 
 " That'll come along soon enough, my hearty," said the 
 guard. " Here, let me look through this to see if some- 
 thing contraband ain't slipped into it." 
 
 He took the back of the book between his thumb and 
 fingers and fluttered open the pages. 
 
 *^ There's nothing," he said ; 'Hake it — small good it's 
 going to do such as you, though. " 
 
 Edgeville's face had changed as his eye fell upon tlie 
 book — morocco-bound and silver-clasped. He took it and 
 walked to the window with it ; turning his back to the 
 others, he looked through its pages eagerly. At the back, 
 on a carefully sealed down fly-leaf, he found these words, 
 in small, penciled characters : 
 
 '^ I do not believe you are guilty. Don't be reckless 
 and willful. Do not refuse to resign, I beg you, for your 
 safety's sake, for my sake. Yes, for my sake. I may tell 
 you noiv I love you. Forgive my folly, and remember your 
 life is dear to Auzete." 
 
 He pressed his lips to the words. The color surged into 
 his thin cheeks ; his heart beat with great throbs. He 
 walked back to Devene. 
 
WILD WOBK. 251 
 
 ^Tve changed my mind, Bob," he said. '* 1 will not 
 make myself conspicuous by solitary opposition. I'll re- 
 sign with the rest of you." 
 
 " How do you know they will ask you ? " sneered Wal- 
 lace, who had overheard him. '^ Small good resigning will 
 do any of us." 
 
 Howard echoed the gloomy prophecy with a shake of 
 his gray head. 
 
 " Then we'll die joUj fellows together," 
 
 Edgeville sang gayly as he turned on his heel. The pre- 
 cious Bible was in his breast pocket ; he pressed his arms 
 over it feryently. 
 
 ** Your love comes late, my darling," he said to himself, 
 **but it is a draught that sweetens all this gall." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The trial of the prisoners went forward with some show 
 of dignity and fairness, for was 'not Alver — ^the diplomatic — 
 at its head ? The officers under arrest were charged with 
 going beyond the law in administering affairs — a charge 
 that might easily be true, since they were the instruments 
 of a man who made his own will the law of his conduct, 
 and whose energy and personal magnetism made him the 
 autocrat of the parish he had created, if not of the district 
 he represented. Ostensibly, his only office was that of Eep- 
 resentative in the State Senate, but he absorbed other 
 offices. He levied taxes, received the money collected, in- 
 fluenced the legislation, and managed the judiciary of the 
 parish, controlling all verdicts of consequence. 
 
 The blacker accusation, that the Radical officers had 
 
252 ^VILD WORK. 
 
 instigated a brutal negro riot, was far from being proved. 
 There was nothing to show that an outbreak had been in- 
 tended beyond the report of the Brownton messenger that 
 he had been fired upon as he rode, the shot fired by the 
 negro Saul (which might well have been the result of fright 
 or excitement, or a vicious prompting), and the fact that 
 several armed negroes were found near Omar Witchell's 
 house on the night said to have been fixed upon for the 
 riot. To a cool judgment this would appear but narrow 
 grounds for finding men guilty of a crime which no motive 
 was apparent for, and which would injure the Radical 
 cause throughout the State. But the committee at Co- 
 hatchie were not judging in cold blood. To their inflamed 
 vision the guilt of the prisoners loomed distinct and black. 
 The verdict might have been instant death but for Alver. 
 He poured oil upon the troubled waters ; he gave his voice 
 for milder measures. 
 
 He walked the floor nervously, and listened to the 
 shouts of the excited mob in front of the building that held 
 the prisoners. Was he dismayed by the violence of the 
 tempest he had called up ? He seemed relieved when at 
 length the question of death-punishment was set aside. 
 This was the arrangement substituted — that the Eadical 
 officers should resign their positions and quit the State 
 within twenty-four hours, pledging themselves by oath 
 never to enter it again. 
 
 The verdict was carried to the prisoners. They under- 
 stood well that if they refused to abide by it death was the 
 alternative. They consulted together and agreed to accept 
 the conditions provided they should be given a guard to see 
 them safely out of the State. Alver acceded to this at once. 
 
 There was some grumbling at the leniency of the judg- 
 ment. To the men who had ridden in such hot haste to 
 quell a bloody disturbance in Cohatchie this seemed a tame 
 
WILD WORK. 2-53 
 
 ending of the drama, an insufficient punishment of the 
 men whose guilt they honestly believed in. 
 
 '^ Better, a long sight, string 'em up yonder alongside 
 the niggers, and be done with it," muttered several voices. 
 
 In each instance Cobb's watchful eye singled out the 
 speakers, and took a mental photograph of their faces. 
 
 " Let 'em go," growled a harsh voice behind him ; 
 ''give 'em that guard, but advise 'em to insure their lives 
 before they start. Something might happen on the way." 
 
 Cobb turned quickly and looked at the man who had 
 spoken — a gaunt, swarthy man, half of his face hid by a black 
 beard, his long hair streaked with gray, and a lurid gleam 
 in his bloodshot eye. Yet in his face and carriage there 
 was an indescribable hint of good birth. 
 
 Cobb dropped back alongside him. 
 
 " Here's my hand on them sentiments, friend," he said 
 low. " What's your name, if I may know it ? " 
 
 ''Dick," returned the other. 
 
 "Xothing but Dick?" 
 
 " They put Cap'n to it on the Mexican border where I 
 hail from. I used to have another name somewhat known 
 in these parts, but never mind it now. Nobody seems to 
 recognize me, and it's just as well. I've only come to see 
 how time is serving some folks I have a particular inter- 
 est in." 
 
 " The Radicals, for instance ? " 
 
 "Yes, the Radicals, for instance — one of them in par- 
 ticular. The big dog of the pack is not here, I find. I 
 owe him a debt with four years' interest. I'd have a chance 
 of paying it now if he was here. But he's slipped off — the 
 sneak — and left this small fry to pay for his sins and their 
 own too. Let them pay, too, I say. A pretty thing it is 
 to raise this great rumpus, and then only to send the scamps 
 safely off with all their ill-got gains in their pockets." 
 
254 WILD WORK, 
 
 "You are right. I must sec you again. Meet me here 
 to-night. These men won't leave till sunrise to-morrow. 
 There'll be a crowd around here all night ; but we and 
 some others will have a chance to get off aside and have a 
 talk among ourselves. Have you a good horse ? " 
 
 " Yes, a capital little mustang." 
 
 " That's well ; meet me at this corner at seven o'clock." 
 
 *^ I'll be there," said the man, who was no other than 
 Lanier, back from his four years' sojourn in Mexico — swar- 
 thier, thinner, and more sinister of look — with beard and 
 hair prematurely gray. He had not been six hours in his 
 native neighborhood, and had made himself known to no 
 one when Alver's dispatch came, and, all afire with the 
 hope of seeing himself at last revenged upon the man who 
 had crossed him in the fierce desire of his heart, he rode in 
 hot haste to Cohatchie, and cursed the luck when he found 
 that the husband of the dead Adelle was not among the 
 prisoners. 
 
 When Cobb turned off from the crowd collected around 
 the building in which the officers were confined, he took 
 his way down the street. He stopped a moment as he came 
 to Omar "Witchell's house — the neat little home he had 
 built for his bride. Already there were about it tokens of 
 woman's refined taste — the flower beds in the yard, the 
 young vines trained across the piazza, the bird-cage among 
 the pots of blooming plants in the window. But the sing- 
 ing of the canary was now the only cheery sound about the 
 little home. The wives of the four married officers stood 
 together on the piazza, but they were not speaking. They 
 were waiting in agonized suspense for news concerning the 
 fate of their husbands. Through all that dreadful day 
 their anguish had been greater than that of the prisoners. 
 Every shout from the mob rent their hearts. The tramp- 
 ling of the horses in the street as parties of armed men rode 
 
WILD WORK. 255 
 
 by, the noise of tlie crowd as they carried the negroes to 
 the gallows, struck them with fresh apprehension. 
 
 Cobb leaned on the paling and looked at them. Omar's 
 wife stood with her locked hands resting on the railing — 
 her white face, her small, childish figure leant forward as 
 if intent to catch some sight or sound that should convey a 
 hope to her heart. Devene's young bride — her Southern 
 nature less capable of control — walked the piazza wringing 
 her hands and crying. The two sisters of Witchell were 
 quiet. Mrs. Wallace, pale, with compressed mouth, stood at 
 the back of the chair in which her younger sister sat. Mrs. 
 Hollin had her arms about her child, holding him to her, 
 her head, with all its golden hair disheveled, bowed upon 
 the flaxen locks of the boy. 
 
 "While Cobb looked on, the expected message came. A 
 man galloped up on horseback. Mrs. Devene sprang to 
 meet him, and returned, holding out a note. 
 
 ^' For you," she said, looking at Mrs. Witchell. " Shall 
 I read it aloud, Minnie ? " 
 
 A quick gesture of assent answered her. Mrs. Devene 
 read : 
 
 "We have resigned our offices, and are to leave the 
 State upon oath not to enter it again. There was no al- 
 ternative. It was do this or die. ' Eesign only to save 
 your lives' was my brother's instruction. We leave to- 
 morrow at sunrise. I trust to God we shall be permitted to 
 see you and say good-by, but do not be disappointed if this 
 is not to be. I will see Hayne if I can, and get him to in- 
 tercede that the favor be granted us — the only one I shall 
 ask — to go to you and say farewell. You can not come to 
 us here through the mob. It would not be permitted, and 
 you must not attempt it. I have not been able to speak to 
 Hayne. lie will not come to me, though I have sent for 
 
256 WILD WORK. 
 
 him, and called him when I saw him in the crowd. And 
 I thought him my true friend. But do not fear for us ; we 
 will be safe. A guard of our own choosing will accompany 
 us, will see us safely out of the State. Don't distress your- 
 self any more, dearest. Be brave and strong. Think of 
 the time when we will be reunited, and among our old 
 friends. Alver has given us his word of honor that our 
 wives shall be protected, and every facility allowed them 
 for joining us as soon as we are in a place of safety. I will 
 write to you to-night and tell you at length what to do 
 and what to send me. We have been furnished with pens 
 and paper, and will each of us write to-night. Don't wor- 
 ry ; all will be right. Yours, Omar." 
 
 '^ Thank God ! it is not what we dreaded," cried the 
 wife of Devene. " Let them leave this country. Who 
 would stay in it after this ? I will follow Eob with all my 
 heart, or I will go with him. Why should we not go with 
 them ? " 
 
 *^We may not even be allowed to see them before they 
 go," Mrs. Wallace said. 
 
 " I will see my husband. They shall not keep me back. 
 What, not let me tell him good-by ? Could any one be so 
 cruel?" 
 
 Omar's little wife said nothing audibly. Her lips moved 
 as she sank into a seat. She motioned for the note, and took 
 it in her hands and fixed her eyes on the lines written by 
 the beloved hand. 
 
 Witchell's sisters moved off to the end of the piazza and 
 looked into each other's faces — a look of mutual, dreary 
 understanding. 
 
 "They will choose the guard themselves," Mrs. Hollin 
 said at last, with an effort at reassuring. 
 
 The older sister smiled bitterly. *' They will choose ! " 
 
WILD WORK. 257 
 
 she said. " What choice is there ? Who among all those 
 men yonder dare befriend them if he wished to ? Hayne 
 will not come near them — Hayne, whom Omar treated like 
 a brother ; who sat at his table and shared his purse. I 
 have little hope from the fact that they will choose their 
 guard." 
 
 "'Your head's level there, my Yankee madam," Cobb 
 said to himself as he moved off and turned into a street 
 running back of the main or river street. Every house he 
 passed had horses tied to the paling or to the trees in front, 
 and men in groups in the yard or on the piazza. Most of 
 these were carelessly or roughly dressed, dusty and travel- 
 stained, boots thrust on over their trousers, and minus col- 
 lars or other neck gear, showing in what haste they had 
 leaped on their horses and ridden here in answer to Alver's 
 summons. It seemed as though the old Confederate days 
 had come back. Cobb's rough heart was stirred. " Hal- 
 loo, boys ! Where's camp ? " he said as he passed a group. 
 When he reached Alver's house, the yard was full of men 
 who had been eating supper at a long table spread for them 
 on the back gallery. Floyd Eeese was waiting on them. 
 She was bringing out a large pitcher of milk as Cobb saun- 
 tered up and seated himself on the edge of the gallery. The 
 loose sleeves of her blue dress fell away from her round 
 arms, her dark gold hair was breeze-blown into little rings 
 on her forehead. She looked a lovely Hebe, innocent of 
 anything but gay and cheerful service. 
 
 '' Give me a draught, fair ministering spirit," Cobb said 
 as she passed near him. 
 
 As she stooped to pour it, he looked up into her eyes 
 significantly from under his broad-brimmed hat. 
 
 " Here's to our Rads," he said low. "■ May they take 
 plenty of money and their best horses with them on their 
 trip to-morrow. It'll be all the better for us." 
 
253 WILD WORK 
 
 They were at the upper end of the gallery. There was 
 no one within hearing of their low tones. 
 
 " Cobb," said Floyd, leaning toward him, " are you 
 certain of being able to carry this out to-morrow ? There'll 
 be a guard, remember." 
 
 *' A fig for the guard ! If they don't help they'll not 
 hinder. I've spotted a dozen fellows among these here 
 that'll see me out in the business ; and we're looking for a 
 livelier crowd to-night from over the Texas line. A dis- 
 patch has been sent there, and they'll be here to-night by 
 the Bayou Prince road. Maybe they'll have a brush with 
 the darkies down below before they get here, to whet their 
 appetites for more fun." 
 
 ** What do you mean ?" 
 
 *^ Why, word came just now that Levi Adams has gath- 
 ered up a gang of negroes down the river on the other side, 
 and has seized all the flats and threatens to burn and rob 
 and kill generally, in revenge for the niggers hung here and 
 the darkies and the Radicals we've got jugged." 
 
 ** An exaggerated report, of course." 
 
 **No, I reckon it's true. Adams is a smart darky; a 
 leader among the negroes. They are stirred up to a perfect 
 ferment with the news of the armed men in Cohatchie and 
 the arrestin' and hangin'. They may do damage, though 
 there's only a few white families down there now. All 
 have come into Cohatchie that could get away. The fel- 
 low that brought the news is staying at the Vincents'. He 
 says they are all sick there. He came to get medicine, but 
 Alver will not give him a permit to return. He has ar- 
 rested him and put him under guard for disorderly con- 
 duct. The fellow had taken a dram or two, and was a little 
 noisy and talkative — that was all. I can't make out why 
 Alver had him taken up. " 
 
 *^I can," said Floyd. *^I know who the man is, and 
 
WILD WORK. 259 
 
 why be was arrested. I thought we had got rid of both 
 those fellows. If they can't be forced to quit the parish, 
 they ought to be scared into holding their tongues." 
 
 Floyd gave not a thought to the distress and possible 
 danger of the Vincents, who had been so kind to her. She 
 only thought: "If the negroes do commit any violence 
 there, all the better for my scheme ; all the more color will 
 be given to the pretext we are to render for the steps that 
 have been taken." But another thought came into her 
 mind : 
 
 *'Have any of the men been sent down in that direc- 
 tion ? " she asked. 
 
 "None; and it will be wondered at that nobody has 
 been sent to the very quarter where it was first reported 
 a riot was gathering. It's an oversight." 
 
 "Yes, parties must ride down there to-morrow." 
 "By that time," she thought, "it is safe to suppose the 
 negroes will have made some demonstration." 
 
 They had spoken low, but eyes were turning in their di- 
 rection, and she moved away with her pitcher. She turned 
 back to ask : 
 
 " Have you seen Colonel Alver ? " 
 " Only for a moment." 
 
 ''I see him coming this way. Mind what I have told 
 you, not one word to him of what will happen to-morrow." 
 "I shall mind; but, between us now, does he not 
 know?" 
 
 " He does not. He may suspect, but, if he does, he has 
 not said so even to me. Let it be so ; we do not need his 
 help. You have seen that the intentions he has expressed 
 concerning the prisoners are peaceable." 
 
 "Hell's paved with such peaceable intentions," mut- 
 tered the desperado with an unbelieving grin as he turned 
 away. 
 
 12 
 
200 WILD WORK. 
 
 It was growing dusk — ^nearly time for his rendezvous 
 with the men he had picked out to-day with his sharp eye. 
 The crowd was gathering more densely around the place 
 of the prisoners' confinement. Voices, clashing together, 
 rose from the dark mass moving there in the wonderful, 
 clear light of the full midsummer moon that surely never 
 shone so brilliantly as on this night and the one succeeding. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 At midnight on the night of the Cohatchie ball Zoe 
 had not closed her eyes. She was sitting up with her 
 brother. His fever was yet unbroken, and, restless and 
 partially delirious, he required constant watching. Her 
 sister-in-law was wakeful and nervous ; the children's sleep 
 was broken, and they called upon her frequently. She was 
 worn with anxiety and fatigue ; her little, delicately-feat- 
 ured face, usually so vividly tinted, rose colorless as a mag- 
 nolia from her dark wrapper as she sat by her brother's 
 bed. A tap fell upon the door, and Dan Nolan came in, 
 carrying the little metal tea-pot that belonged in his room. 
 
 " I can't sleep," he said. "I've come to ask you to let 
 me sit up with your brother while you take some rest. I've 
 brought some hot tea of my own making. Drink a cup of 
 it ; it will refresh you ; and lie down a little, Miss Zoe. I 
 will do all that's necessary here." 
 
 ''You ?" said Zoe. "You look like it. You look as 
 bloodless as a ghost, and you can hardly stand. How did 
 you manage to make this tea ? Thanks for it ; it's just 
 what I wanted. But I can't permit you to turn nurse so 
 soon ; you need nursing still yourself." 
 
 " But I can't sleep a moment longer. I had a dream— 
 
WILD WORK. 261 
 
 such a dream ! My God ! I wish my life had always been 
 as innocent as yours, young lady. Let me sit here ; I won't 
 feel so alone. This still moonlight night seems full of hor- 
 ror to me. Somehow I'm a little uneasy about.-Jim. If 
 anything should happen to him, just let them — ^but I'm 
 talking too much in a sick room. Give me the fan, 
 Miss Zoe. There, go and lie down. Rest, if you can't 
 sleep." 
 
 He was persistent, and, giving him a few low directions, 
 she went into the next room and threw herself across the 
 foot of the bed in which the two younger children were 
 sleeping. She rested there an hour ; the clock striking one 
 aroused her. 
 
 Sitting up, she heard the sound of a horse being ridden 
 around to the rear gate. She went out softly on the back 
 piazza, where she found Dan already standing. 
 
 "It's Jim," he said. "Hear that everlasting whistle ! 
 Your brother's asleep. I'll caution Jim not to make a 
 noise. I believe I'll go out to him and hear the news from 
 this queer ball." 
 
 He staggered as he descended the steps, so weak had 
 he been left by that fearful loss of blood. Zoe came to his 
 side. 
 
 "Lean on me," she said, "I too am eager to hear what 
 has happened to-night." 
 
 " What news, kagen ? " * Dan asked as Jim Nolan threw 
 himself from the horse. 
 
 "Gay," was the answer. "Gay, I tell you. I came 
 nigh not getting back. If I had waited until morning I 
 couldn't have come at all." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Why, the town is under martial law by order of Com- 
 
 * Creole term — contraction of Acadian. 
 
262 W^LD WORK. 
 
 mander-in-Cliief Alver. . He's worked things round to suit 
 him, after all." 
 
 "Was there any disturbance ?" 
 
 " One reported down this way. Haven't you seen any- 
 thing of it ? Fellow burst into the ball-room, wet as a 
 drowned rat and white as a sheet, declarin' the niggers 
 were in arms down here and had fired a dozen bullets at him 
 as he came along. Then the pot bubbled over. Alver issued 
 his orders sharp and quick as a rattling artillery match, 
 the boys mounted and patrolled the town, a negro fired at 
 one and wounded him, and got arrested with a lot of other 
 darkies. Some of 'em will swing to-morrow, and the Rads 
 too, I reckon. They are all to be arrested. There'll be 
 lively times. I say, Dan, what a cursed piece of luck it 
 was that I should have given you that tap on the head ! 
 Wam't for that we could have lots of fun, and some profit 
 too, to-morrow. It'll be better than Coif — " 
 
 " Hush ! " ordered his brother, sternly. *' How did yoU 
 manage to get out ?" he asked, after a pause. 
 
 "Pretended me and old gray was lightning express, 
 carrying a dispatch to Malta. Alver sent messengers every- 
 where. Two niggers — one a darky constable and the other 
 a sub in the post-office — crawled out through the guard 
 somehow and crossed the river just now when I did. Levi 
 Adams met them down there in the road, and they told 
 him the news — such a tale as you never heard ! They de- 
 clared every nigger in Cohatchie was arrested and certain 
 to be hung, and that the whites were coming in full force 
 to-morrow to kill out the whole race of blacks. ^ There's 
 nothin' for us but to take to the swamp,' whined the brave 
 constable. 'Let me see you do it,' growled Levi. 'I'll 
 shoot the first sneak that runs to the swamp. If we've got 
 to be killed, let's fight to the last and die like men.' That 
 fellow's got Injun blood in him, Dan. No nigger was ever 
 
WILD WORK. 263 
 
 so plucky. He took the two darkies off to liis house, and 
 I'll wager they're concocting some deyilment right now. I 
 shouldn't be surprised if Levi got up a gang and did mis- 
 chief here to-morrow. He's got a fair chance ; white men 
 all in Cohatchie, and can't get out." 
 
 *^"What would become of us?"Zoe uttered, dismayed 
 at the thought of the helplessness of herself and her bro- 
 ther's family. 
 
 "Don't mind his croaking, Miss Vincent. Get to roost, 
 you raven of ill-omen. Put up your horse, and then to bed. 
 You, too, Miss Zoe, go and lie down and go to sleep ; I will 
 watch the rest of the night with your brother." 
 
 The next day dawned upon Zoe's unsleeping eyes, and 
 before the sun was an hour high signs of unusual commo- 
 tion showed themselves. 
 
 From the east window of her little upper room she saw 
 across the level, intervening fields her neighbors on the 
 right moving about the house and yard, and saw a trunk 
 carried out to a carryall, that with mules attached to it 
 stood before the gate. She hurried across the passage into 
 the other room. There from the west window she saw simi- 
 lar preparations going on at the tall, dark-looking house 
 in which lived her neighbors on the left nearly half a mile 
 away, but plainly to be seen across those level, low-lying 
 fields. Before this gate stood two saddled horses, and a 
 cart and horse. 
 
 A halloo startled her. She hastened down and found a 
 man on horseback — the nephew of her neighbor on the 
 right — standing at the gate. She ran out to him bare- 
 headed, and was informed that they were all going to Co- 
 hatchie for protection, as it was feared there would be 
 trouble with the negroes. If Mr. Vincent's folks wished 
 to move, now was the time. There would soon be left no- 
 body but negroes to help them cross in the flat, and it was 
 
204 WJLD WOBK. 
 
 doubtful if the negroes would help. They were getting 
 more sullen and impudent every minute. 
 
 *^But my brother and sister are ill; we can not go," 
 Zoe exclaimed. 
 
 The young man said that was bad. He was sorry, but 
 didn't see what could be done. 
 
 "Will you not have the kindness to report our case to 
 Colonel Alver ? I hear he has charge of everything in Co- 
 hatchie, and ask him to send us some assistance ? " 
 
 " Y-e-s," doubtfully, **I can tell him, but, as Vincent 
 don't belong to the White League, I don't know if Colonel 
 Alver'll bother himseK about it ? " 
 
 Pride overpowered Zoe's apprehension. 
 
 **Well," she said, *'you need not trouble yourself," 
 and she turned and left him without asking for any of the 
 information he was burning to impart. 
 
 She watched them all go. By nine o'clock the four 
 planters living near her had all crossed the river with their 
 families, and were making their way to Cohatchie. Groups 
 of negroes stood on the bank watching them. When the 
 flat came back the last time, pulled over by a negro who 
 had been well paid, Levi Adams rode down the bank and 
 fastened the flat to a strong tree by its chain, and a padlock 
 that he took from his pocket. 
 
 Hours passed. The stillness and brightness of the sum- 
 mer day lay all around her. A soft breeze rippled the 
 fields of green cotton and stirred the tops of the great 
 swamp-forest lying back of the cultivated front lands. 
 The white grossbeaks, flying back to the low, fish-filled 
 bayous, were the only specks that dotted the deep blue of 
 the sky. It seemed hard to realize that any catastrophe 
 was at hand. Zoe strove to conceal her anxiety from her 
 sister, but she had heard enough of what was going on to 
 throw her into a nervous state, alarming in her situation. 
 
WILD WORK, 265 
 
 Then, too, it was Hugh's bad day. The disease — a bilious 
 disorder — grew worse every alternate day; and now the 
 fever rose to its climax, and his symptoms became so vio- 
 lent that Zoe was glad to accept Dan's proposal to send his 
 brother for medicine or a doctor, giving him a note explain- 
 ing the urgent nature of the case. The only three flats in 
 the neighborhood had been seized by the negroes, but Zoe 
 remembered a little skiff, or rather ^^ dug-out," that it was 
 likely they had not thought worth while to sink or fasten. 
 " It lies in a little nook in the bank of Bayou Vincey, just 
 where the bayou empties in the river. You can shoot 
 across in it like an arrow," she said. 
 
 " I'll go, and come back too, if they don't put a ring of 
 bayonets round me. Dan, old fellow, take care of your- 
 self. I don't like to leave you here, and you so weak. But 
 I s'pose it can't be helped. Good-by," and he walked away. 
 
 Eiding was out of the question. He must cross in the 
 narrow dug-out, and he must take his chances to slip out 
 of Cohatchie unobserved. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Jim Nolan had not been gone an hour before Zoe re- 
 gretted having permitted him to leave. It was hardly 
 likely he would be able to get out of Cohatchie, and he was 
 all the dependence they had in case the negroes should 
 really attack them, for Dan had not strength to offer any 
 but the feeblest resistance. Besides, her brother grew 
 better. The fever, having risen to its greatest intensity, 
 began to cool, and a deep sleep settled upon his restless 
 limbs and disordered brain. The crisis was past. Zoe, 
 who had so frequently seen diseases of this type, knew that 
 
266 WILD WORK. 
 
 the danger was over. She left his eldest child — a sweet 
 little girl of twelve — to sit by his bed and brush away the 
 flies, while she went out for a little change into the orchard. 
 Standing there, with the great pear and apple-trees over- 
 head, and the grass and clover under foot, she heard the 
 young mocking-birds twittering in their nests above her, 
 and saw the yellow wasps and brown bees feasting on the 
 red pulp of the over-ripe figs and peaches that lay in the 
 grass. The orchard was only a narrow space ; the rich 
 cotton lands were grudgingly spared to mere fruit or flow- 
 ers, and fields of the favorite staple pushed up close around 
 the little inclosure set apart for Pomona. Up to the very 
 paling, covered with vines of wild morning-glory and trum- 
 pet flower, grew the wide-branched cotton, taller than a 
 man's head, and clustered thickly with blooms and bolls. 
 
 Through those thick cotton rows came the rustle of 
 some one approaching. A negro emerged from the mass 
 of green, glanced furtively around, and then, coming close 
 to the paling, beckoned her to approach. She knew him 
 well. He was the husband of her brother's cook, and she 
 had been kind to him and his family in various ways. 
 She had always thought him a humble, stupidly inoffen- 
 sive creature ; what had changed the look of his face so 
 completely ? His expression now was a mixture of cunning 
 and insolence. Deceit ill concealed the elation that lit his 
 usually dull, pig-like eye. 
 
 As Zoe approached he asked : 
 
 "What did you send that white fellow up to Cohatchie 
 for?" 
 
 " On my own business," Zoe answered, shortly, for his 
 manner was hardly respectful. 
 
 ^'No use flyin' off de handle. I jest wanted to tell you 
 you needn't look for him back. If he gits out of Co- 
 hatchie 'twon't do him no good. Levi already sen' over and 
 
WILD WORK. 2G7 
 
 got de dug-out what he stole to cross in, and we've got a 
 watch all along de river." 
 
 ^' What is that for ? What is it, Tom, that you negroes 
 intend to do ? " 
 
 *^ I ain't said we niggers is goin' to do nothin'." 
 
 '* I am glad you are not. I thought you had more sense 
 than to attempt any riot," she answered, pretending indiffer- 
 ence and moving away. Her assumed carelessness had the 
 desired effect. It made him more eager to impart the news. 
 
 "You don't understan'. Niggers ain't goin' to do 
 nothin', " he said, '^but colored men is tired of bein' tram- 
 pled on, and is goin' to make a defense if no more. No 
 sense you say, hey ? You think 'twould be sense, though, 
 to set down here and let de white folks shoot and hang us 
 like dey done Mose Clark las' week, and Saul and Peter in 
 Oohatchie dis morning, and de Lord knows how many 
 more by dis time. AVord come to us a month ago dat dis 
 rumpus was gwine to be. Strange man 'splained it to us. 
 God showed it to him in his dreams, and told him to tell 
 us wx must stand stiff or we'd be run over and trampled 
 out. We must hold our own, or we'd be buzzard meat 
 afore we know it. But we jes' went on and didn't pay 
 much ^tention till dey begun to fire in our windows an' 
 down our chimleys, an' Uncle Mose Clark was shot in his 
 tracks, an' den we begin to git worked up, and had meetins 
 to talk over what we mus' do, and of a sudden we hear 
 dis news from Cohatchie ; soldiers pourin' in, hangin' and 
 'restin' dere, and coming down here to kill out our race. 
 We made up a comp'ny las' night. I'm a ossifer — named 
 a Cuppural. AYe're gwine to stan' up fur our rights if dey 
 come over here atter us, and we're goin' to — but you'll 
 know about dat soon enough. Only, I hear say you're 
 packin' up your jewelry and money, and goin' to try to git 
 away through de swamp by de Bayou Prince road, and I 
 
268 WILD WORE. 
 
 thought I may as well tell you 'tain't no use. Levi ain't 
 agoin^ to let no waggin start from dis gate. Our folks is 
 scattered all through de swamji, and ef you got in there 
 they'd stop you soon nuff. You couldn't get away in time, 
 neither, ef you had a chance." 
 
 ''In time ? Tom Ludd, tell me what you mean. Is 
 there an attack to be made on the white people here ? " 
 
 ^' You'll see in 'n hour from now." 
 
 *' Are they coming here ? " 
 
 ''Of course, de fust place. Bound to have shot and 
 powder and guns, and dey's in that store of your brndder's 
 yonder, and two barrels er whisky 'long wid 'em." 
 
 "Are you coming to the house ?" 
 
 "Bound to sack and burn every house from here down 
 to Bronn's store. Dat's de word Levi give out." 
 
 " Are you goin' to kill as you go ? " 
 
 "What else ought we to do to pay for what's been done 
 to us ? "Worst we could do wouldn't be nuff, Levi says. 
 He's goin' to tell 'em to jes' go ahead ; do as you was done 
 by." 
 
 " A crime done by some outlaw ought not to be revenged 
 on innocent men and women. You would let them come 
 here to burn and kill us after all the kindness we have 
 shown you, Tom Ludd ? You said I saved your child's 
 life when it had spasms two weeks ago ; is this the return 
 you make ? " 
 
 " How can I help what dey do ? I'm a ossifer for true, 
 but Levi's our head ; we must go by what he says. He 
 'lows nobody to interfere. I'm sorry for you all, and I'll 
 try to save your lives ef I can keep de giddy-headed ones 
 back ; but dat'll be hard to do after dey've got to de 
 whisky in de store." 
 
 " They shan't get that. I'll stave in the heads of the 
 barrels mj^self." 
 
WILD WORK, 269 
 
 His eyes sparkled with malicious triumph. 
 
 " Like to see you do it ! Levi's got a guard over de 
 store. When you go round to de front dere you can look 
 over and see three cullurd men wid guns settin' on de 
 store porch." 
 
 Zoe clasped her hands together — an involuntary gesture 
 of distress and perplexity. The negro eyed her, well satis- 
 fied, a gleam of cunning in his face. He came near the 
 paling. 
 
 " 'Twould be mighty bad for you women and Vincent's 
 little gal ef de men come over to you half drunk, as dey 
 will do. I'll tell you what, I'll do my best to keep 'em 
 away— or to git 'em jes' to rob de house and let you 'lone. 
 I'll do it ef you'll give me your gold watch and chain and 
 ten dollars beforehand; yes, and your gold bracelet wid 
 de red — " 
 
 He was so intent he did not hear the panther-like step 
 behind him. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" interrupted a voice, 
 strong and harsh but not loud — Levi's peculiar voice ; and 
 as the frightened " Cuppural " turned round he confronted 
 the tall form and scornful face of his leader. 
 
 **Blabbin' and boastin' — as it's your trade to do — you 
 thick-headed fool. Clear out from here, and git to your 
 business. " 
 
 Tom slunk away, grumbling inaudibly. Levi came up 
 to the paling, his tall, straight form towering above it, his 
 gun on his shoulder, a pistol and a huge bowie-knife in his 
 rough leather belt. His saturnine face was lit with sup- 
 pressed excitement ; a sneer curled his mouth as he watched 
 Zoe. His face and form, instinct with savage power, filled 
 her with terror. 
 
 ** Levi," she said, "what is this you are going to do ? " 
 
 "The long-tongued fool told you, I reckon." 
 
270 WILD WORK. 
 
 "Surely it's not true that you mean to rob and destroy 
 the few helpless whites left here ? " 
 
 "You'll see for yourself what I'm going to do in less 
 than an hour. My men are back there in the swamp, ready 
 for anything. They remember Mose Clark, and they think 
 of their own color lyin' in the jail up yonder and swinging 
 to the trees to feast the buzzards." 
 
 " That was because one of them shot a man, and be- 
 cause the negroes had planned a riot. " 
 
 " Who swung when Mose Clark was shot ? And it's 
 not true any riot was planned. I'd a known of it, wouldn't 
 I ? I'd a been around Cohatchie the night of the ball. 
 'Twas a got-up thing, that is what it was. But now, since 
 we've had the blame, we'll have the game. We'll not dis- 
 appoint 'em. But I've no time to waste. I come to git 
 the key to your brother's store. WiU you give it to me ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " All right, we want to be civil ; but there's other ways 
 of gettin' in. " 
 
 " Levi, can it be that you, whom we have never harmed, 
 would bring a mob of drunken negroes into my brother's 
 house and turn them loose on him and his helpless wife 
 and children ? Would you be so cruel ? You have more 
 sense than your fellows; you have complete power over 
 them. Levi ! could you use your power so wickedly ? " 
 
 "'Twa'n't cruel to hang Saul and Peter this morning 
 without fair trial ? 'Tain't cruel to kill the Radicals or 
 drive 'em out of the country because they're friends to us ? 
 Why don't you look at that ? My men shall do what they 
 like. If any's killed, it's only tit for tat." 
 
 " One who would murder sick men and helpless women 
 is a fiend and a coward," Zoe exclaimed, vehemently. 
 
 He turned on her glaring. 
 
 "You'll repent that," he muttered. Then, as he still 
 
WILD WORK. 271 
 
 looked at her, ** You hate us, you white-skinned women," 
 he said. '* You speak to us kindly as you do to dogs, but 
 you scringe if we chance to come close to you. It would 
 do me good to humble you ; to see you kneel to me. I'll 
 see it, too, before another sun shall set, my pretty one." 
 
 He laughed sardonically at the white horror his words 
 brought into her face. Still laughing his low, Indian-like 
 chuckle, he strode way. 
 
 Zoe stood where he left her — fear and perplexity seem- 
 ing to root her to the spot. 
 
 " What can I do ? " was the ever-recurring thought. 
 " There are none within reach to apply to, no one to send 
 if there was. Escape is impossible ; resistance out of our 
 power. Jim Nolan can not come ; his brother is not able to 
 make any continued exertion. What must be done ? I 
 have no one that I can go to with this dreadful news but 
 Dan Nolan. He may be a thief and a murderer himself ; 
 he acknowledges that he is a criminal, but he is all I have 
 to look to for help and advice." 
 
 She started for the house, and stojiped as she saw young 
 Nolan coming toward her. 
 
 '* What's the matter? What's happened?" he ex- 
 claimed as soon as he caught sight of her face. In a few 
 words she told him what she had just heard. 
 
 " Why on earth didn't you call me when that fellow 
 Levi was talking to you ? I'd a put a bullet in his smart 
 body and put a stop to all of it. It's his getting up. The 
 first thing we must do is to go over to the store, burst 
 open the whisky barrels, and throw the powder and shot in 
 the river." 
 
 "Too late," she said ; "look there." 
 
 They had walked to a point where they could see a part 
 of the store-front. Three negroes with guns sat on the 
 porch watching them. 
 
272 TT/ZZ) WOEK. 
 
 " I could take 'em off one after the other with my re- 
 peater," Dan cried. 
 
 ''No, you must not," Zoe interrupted, quickly. *^ It 
 would hasten the attack and make them more savage. 
 There are plenty others to supply the places of those if you 
 killed them. Look at that head above the cotton ! There 
 are spies all around us." 
 
 ** I see only this to be done. Go and get up your valu- 
 ables and put them in the securest place you can think 
 of. Tell your sister a part of what you apprehend, and 
 tell your brother if he is conscious. Let Mrs. Vincent, 
 you and the children, get into the small room where your 
 brother lies. I will bolt the doors and windows as strong- 
 ly as I can. Then I will make the outer room secure, 
 and take my stand there with all the guns and pistols 
 the house ajffords. A good number of the wretches will 
 have to bite the dust before they get to you. Does that 
 suit?" 
 
 " In all except that I will stay with you. I can load, 
 and I can shoot a little. A well woman ought to be nearly 
 as good as a sick man." 
 
 She spoke more hopefully than she felt. She followed 
 out Dan's suggestions, but she worked with a heavy heart. 
 She put the money and jewelry and important papers into a 
 small iron box, and, as there was no chance to bury it outside 
 with all those spies around, she hit upon the expedient of 
 putting it on a board that fitted into the dining-room chim- 
 ney, and pushing the board so far up the flue as to be 
 almost out of reach. Even if the house is burned these 
 may not be destroyed, she thought ; chimneys are often 
 left standing. Her brother was awake and conscious. His 
 little daughter was feeding him with soup. Zoe's heart was 
 almost broken when the girl turned her innocent, rose-bud 
 face to her, smiling as she announced that papa had swal- 
 
WILD WORK, 273 
 
 lowed six spoonfuls of soup. What a fate might soon over- 
 take that lovely child ! 
 
 But Zoe would not give way. She nerved herself with 
 all the courage that was in her. Very composedly she told 
 her brother and sister that she had some reason to fear an 
 attack from a few excited negroes. It was possible her 
 fears were ungrounded, but she thought it better to take 
 precautions and fasten the doors and windows securely. 
 Her quiet manner had its effect, and injurious agitation 
 was in a great measure forestalled. 
 
 When all was done that could be, she went into the 
 outer room where Dan had just finished loading the guns 
 and pistols. He was whistling gayly ; he looked as if the 
 danger was an elixir to hifn. He expressed no regret, 
 except that Jim was not here to share the fun. 
 
 Zoe went to the door. The afternoon sun steeped the 
 luxuriant landscape in light and heat. The cicala sung 
 in the shade of the tall grass, the silver-winged grossbeaks 
 floated dreamlike across the sky. All was quiet and at 
 rest ; nothing indicative of violence except those three men 
 with guns lying on the gallery of the store, and negroes 
 with guns had often lounged there before. 
 
 *^ Do you see any sign of anything wrong ?" she asked. 
 
 '* Only this : the negro women in those tenant cabins are 
 all standing at their doors looking down the river. They 
 know what is coming, and from what quarter." 
 
 Five minutes passed. Zoe was at the lower end of the 
 piazza. She uttered an exclamation. 
 
 ^' What do you see, sister Ann ? The very cloud of 
 dust of the Blue Beard tale, on my word," he added, seeing 
 that she could not speak. " Courage ! remember that we 
 are to fight together. Don't let heroism ebb out of these 
 throbbing little veins." 
 
 He took her hand as he spoke. It was cold as marble. 
 
274 WILD WORK. 
 
 With strained, terror-fascinated eyes she watched the cloud 
 of dust that grew into dusky ranks of negroes rapidly turn- 
 ing the curve in the road following the river bend. Nearer 
 they came. The women at the cabin doors gave no sign, 
 but stood and watched, still as statues. Levi rode at the 
 head. A few others were mounted, the rest were on foot ; 
 about half of them were armed with guns, the others had va- 
 rious weapons. Some carried fish-gigs, some axes and hoes. 
 
 **Not more than fifty or sixty of them," Dan said, run- 
 ning his rapid eye down the motley ranks. " Not bad odds 
 to fight against when you consider the cowardice of the 
 beast."' 
 
 They reached the store, and Levi ordered a halt. Fling- 
 ing himself from his horse and giving his gun to one of the 
 men, he came alone toward the house. Zoe had already 
 retreated into the room and fastened the door. Levi came 
 up, entered the gallery, and, glancing haughtily at Dan, 
 asked aloud for Zoe. 
 
 "She's within. What do you want with her? I'm 
 here to answer for her," Dan said, carelessly continuing to 
 pull the ears of Zoe's pet dog. 
 
 "You can't answer for yourself yet," sneered the negro 
 leader, and, striding past him, he knocked at the door, call- 
 ing out for Zoe. She opened the door and stood before him 
 pale as death, but calm. 
 
 " I am here," she said. " What do you want ? " 
 
 He looked at her in evident surprise before he said : 
 
 " First I want the key to the store ; do you still refuse to 
 give it up ? " 
 
 " I do ! You may break the store open if you will. I 
 will give you no help to get liquor and arms to use for a 
 lawless purpose." 
 
 He pushed past her and entered the room, partly closing 
 the door upon him. 
 
WILD WORK. 275 
 
 " I see yoti are stubborn and proud still," he said. '' Do 
 you understand what is about to come to you ? You are 
 here in our power ; no help can come to you ; we have 
 things in our own hands. In half an hour this house will 
 swarm with men — niggers, you call them — mad, drunk, 
 furious, ripe for anything. This floor will run with blood, 
 the roof will blaze over your head. With this before you, 
 you hold a stiff neck still. You must beg for mercy. 
 
 "I have pleaded with you for mercy, I do so again. 
 Levi, as you hope for pardon from God, do not harm my 
 sick brother and his helpless wife and children ! " 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 ''Yes, me too. I love honor and life too well not to 
 plead with you to spare me. Keep your men from this 
 house ; do this, and all the money and jewels I have I will 
 give to you." 
 
 " I don't want your jewelry, and I'll have all the money 
 I need before this night is over. Your begging is too luke- 
 warm. Kneel to me ; remember, I have your life, and 
 more, in my power. Seize my hands here in your soft palms, 
 hug my knees with your arms, look up in my face with 
 tears dropping from your eyes. Kneel to me, I say." 
 
 She looked at him with an eye that did not quail. 
 "No," she said, "I wiU not humble myself to please you. 
 It would be useless ; I see that in your face. Our doom is 
 sealed. I will not kneel to receive insult. Go ; I have no 
 more to say to you. I will die by my own hand before you 
 shall touch me." 
 
 Cries of " Bring on the key " ; " Break down the door," 
 came from the mob at the store. 
 
 " You'll see when the time comes," he cried with fury 
 in his looks ; " you shall feel my touch then. It shall 
 clamp you like iron." 
 
 He seized her wrist as she said the last words, his nails 
 
276 WILD WORK. 
 
 pressed into her flesh till the blood came. " Dan Nolan," 
 she called, but not loudly. She heard the click of Dan's 
 pistol close to her. Suddenly Levi Adams loosed his hold 
 of her, and leaped upon young Nolan like a tiger-cat, try- 
 ing to wrench the pistol from him. It went off in the 
 struggle. A shout from the negroes on the bank echoed 
 the report. Zoe reeled back against the wall. " It is all 
 over, " she thought. *^ They will rush upon us in a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 The scuffle between the two men ended in Levi's get- 
 ting the pistol in his possession and dashing Nolan to the 
 farther end of the room. Once more Zoe heard the cries 
 of the negroes, but she was too far gone with terror to no- 
 tice that these cries differed from the others — to under- 
 stand that these confused exclamations expressed alarm and 
 dismay. Through a side window she saw several black 
 forms rush by. 
 
 **They are surrounding the house," was her thought. 
 
 But through a back window she caught glimpses of ne- 
 groes running wildly for the swamp, leaping the paling, 
 crashing through the tall cotton. What did it mean ? She 
 flew to the front door. The negroes were all gone from 
 the store, from the river bank. She looked down the road. 
 There she saw a body of armed men riding swiftly toward 
 her. Were they more negroes ? No, thank God ! there, 
 under the dusty hats, were wliite faces — blessed white faces. 
 
 ** We are saved ; there are armed white men coming to 
 our rescue," she said to Dan, who had staggered to the door, 
 breathless from his struggle with the negro bully. 
 
 "Hooray ! they are from the Texas line, some of 'em, 
 I'll bet," cried the young fellow, with a feeble attempt at a 
 cheer. " They came by the Bayou Prince road. Jim said 
 Alver had sent messengers to Sabine County." 
 
 Waving his old red silk handkerchief, he shouted " Hoo- 
 
WILD WORK, 277 
 
 ray, boys ! " as loudly as lie could, as the cavalcade swept 
 round the last river bend and came in front of the house. 
 Neither he nor Zoe had noticed Levi Adams. At first the 
 negro chief failed to take in the situation. When he did 
 comprehend it, he leaped out of the house by the back way 
 and strove, with voice and gesture, to stop the flight of his 
 demoralized band. He shouted to them to hold, he cursed 
 them, he implored them to come back and make a stand, 
 but to no purpose ; they ran as only terrified negroes or 
 scared sheep can run. They had no whisky in them to 
 impart a fictitious courage. The sight of all these armed 
 white men rounding the bend in such dashing style struck 
 terror to their souls, broke up their ranks as though a 
 shower of shell from a near battery had burst among them, 
 and sent them helter-skelter in a wild race for the swamp. 
 Levi saw that not one would stand to back him. He saw 
 the soldiers close to the store. His horse stood there — the 
 yellow mustang that carried him like the wind. He made 
 a flying leap over the palings ; a few more bounds and he 
 reached his horse's side. He jumped into the saddle and 
 caught the reins. Too late ! Half a dozen horsemen sur- 
 rounded him, a dozen guns were pointed at him. He was 
 forced to surrender. Sullen and stoical, his bronze face 
 unmoved, he stood and submitted to the tying of his 
 hands. 
 
 A guard was left over him, and the others hastened to 
 pursue the fugitive negroes. Just as well hunt the " coon " 
 or the " opossum " in their woodland coverts without the 
 keen-nosed dog as to hunt in these thick jungles, these 
 vine-matted forests, for Levi's scattered flock. The soldiers 
 rode back an hour afterward, with only one captive — Tom 
 Ludd, the negro who had undertaken to negotiate with 
 Zoe concerning her safety. Tom's vanity, like Absalom's, 
 had occasioned his capture. Feeling his importance as an 
 
278 WILD WORK, 
 
 *' ossifer," he had donned an ancient long-tailed coat, and the 
 impalement of that coat on the back fence of the field had 
 caused him to be taken prisoner. Pitiful enough he looked 
 now. He was shaking with terror, his black face had a 
 gray look, his eyes stood out like a trapped rabbit's, he 
 begged incessantly, piteously protesting his innocence. 
 Levi flashed at him a single look of scorn. " Hush, fool," 
 he muttered in his harsh, guttural tones. 
 
 The negro leader seemed to notice nothing, but not a 
 movement escaped his panther eye. He did not seem to stir 
 in a limb, but he had cunningly managed to untie the cord 
 that bound his hands and was fastened to one of his feet. 
 The sight of some mounted men on the opposite bank of 
 the river drew the attention of the guard, and. taking advan- 
 tage of the moment, Levi made a desperate effort to escaj^e. 
 With that wonderful agility none had ever seen surpassed, 
 he cleared the half-circle of men with a bound and ran for 
 the swamp. Before the men, who had dismounted, could 
 spring upon their horses, he had reached the cotton, and 
 with bent head was scudding down the rows, when a horse- 
 man, who seemed chief of the armed white party, came gal- 
 loping from the swamp, and, riding before the fugitive, 
 ordered him to halt. For answer, Levi snatched out a der- 
 ringer he had kept hid in his bosom, and fired it, the ball 
 gi'azing the white man's shoulder. In an instant the negro 
 bully was seized by an arm more powerful than his own, 
 and the sharp click of a pistol at his head warned him to 
 be quiet. 
 
 A number of men rode up, and, giving orders to '*tie 
 the negro, take him to the swamp, and make short work of 
 him," the horseman rode on to the house. He was a su- 
 perb rider, and, as he removed his straw hat that the wind 
 might cool his heated head, he looked one's ideal of the 
 guerrilla chief; long-haired, with flowing beard, a falcon 
 
WILD WORK. 279 
 
 eye, a grand throat, and a broad chest and shoulders, which 
 showed well in the easy gray hunting shirt. 
 
 He rode to the store and sat on his horse, looking at 
 the miserable, cringing figure of Tom Ludd. That brave 
 '^ossifer" was calling God to witness that he never ''had 
 no han' in dese here wicked doin's. He was a peaceable, 
 hard-wuckin', stay-at-home nigger. He was jes' stirrin' 
 his wife's pot uv big hom'ly before de cabin when he seed 
 de soldiers comin' and seen t'other niggers runnin' for de 
 woods, and he, like a skeered fool, must run too, and de 
 soldiers cotch him and think him guilty ; but it's all mis- 
 take." 
 
 ''But you had a gun in your hand," said one of the 
 men. 
 
 "A gun?— me?" 
 
 "Certainly, you had a loaded gun. What were you 
 going to do with that, you hypocritical Ethiopian ? " 
 
 "Oh!" chattered the terrified darky, forgetting his 
 former story. " I tell you 'bout dat gun. I was jes' goin' 
 to de woods to shoot a squ'el for my poor, sick wife. Dat's 
 all, my good master ; 'pon my sacred word and honor, and 
 I hope thunder strike me dead dis minite ef it ain't de sol- 
 ium truth. Mandy — O-o-o-o Mandy ! " he called to his wife, 
 who, with her baby in her arms, had started from her cabin 
 toward him with timid, hesitating steps, "come here and 
 beg for your dear husband's life." 
 
 "Now," he went on as she hurried up, crying, "git 
 down on your knees wid me and beg dese good, kind, fine- 
 looking gentlemen to spare me dis onct and dey'U never 
 kotch me nowhere atter dis, 'cept in de cotton patch at de 
 eend uv a hoe. Jes' tell 'em how it was. I was stirrin' de 
 hom'ly pot — no, I was gwine to de woods to kill squ'el for 
 your soup case you was delicaty, and I never had no han' 
 in dis no mor'n dat chile dere on his mudder's breast. 
 
230 WILD WORK. 
 
 what's goin' to be lef 'thout a pappy of you don't spar dis 
 poor innercent nigger to his restracted fam'ly." 
 
 This allusion to her distressed condition, and to the 
 round-faced baby that sucked its thumb serenely and stared 
 in big-eyed pleasure at the scene, brought hysterical sobs 
 and shrieks from Mandy. Tom encouraged her grief by 
 groans. 
 
 *^ Hush your screeching and get up from here," com- 
 manded the man at whose feet the pair had dropped upon 
 their knees, and whose commanding looks and the defer- 
 ence shown him entitled him to be thought Captain of the 
 party. 
 
 At this instant successive reports of fire-arms were heard 
 coming from some distance in the swamp. Echo sent them 
 back with startling distinctness from the opposite bank of 
 the river. 
 
 The men looked at each other significantly. 
 
 *^ They've settled with the nigger ringleader," observed 
 one of them, laconically. 
 
 " Oh ! good Lord ! " howled Tom Ludd in despair. 
 " Mandy, run to Miss Zoe ; git her to come here and beg for 
 me ; run, Mandy, ef you love me." 
 
 His wife darted for the house. A minute afterward she 
 came back and spoke a few words to the Captain. He set 
 his gun against the side of the store and followed her to the 
 house. 
 
 Zoe, standing on the front piazza, trembled as she leaned 
 against a post, her face blanched with horror. She had just 
 understood the meaning of that volley she had heard fired 
 in the swamp. Those shots had riddled the negi'o leader, 
 an hour before so exultant in strength and power. A sick- 
 ening sensation overpowered her. She hardly looked at 
 tlie man as he came up to her, his straw hat pulled over 
 his face. 
 
WILD WORK. 281 
 
 "Sir," she, said, "I sent for you to entreat you to spare 
 that miserable negro yonder. He was led into this. He 
 has not sense enough to look to consequences. There are 
 extenuating circumstances connected with this action of 
 the negroes that should lead you to be merciful. The 
 leader is killed ; let that suffice, and spare the life of this 
 poor, ignorant creature. He has always been inoffensive 
 and humble till to-day." 
 
 " He shall be spared. I would grant a far greater re- 
 quest to you.^^ 
 
 She looked up amazed. He stood before her, looking 
 at her with the eyes whose melancholy intensity she could 
 never forget. It was Hirne. 
 
 *^ I swore never to come back, never to see you again," 
 he said, taking her hand and coming close to her. ** I 
 could not help it. Fate draws irresistibly. Destiny must 
 be accomplished. Are you not married yet ? " 
 
 She shook her head ; she could not well have spoken. 
 
 " Thank Fate for this much ! But how pale you are, 
 sweetest ! You are ill, or you have passed through some 
 cruel trial ; you have been frightened to death. How glad 
 I am that we came up when we did ! How glad that I hap- 
 pened to get word of this outbreak here ! I knew that you 
 lived here, and I urged the men on without a moment's^ stop- 
 ping. Had we been ten minutes later — " 
 
 ''Do not speak of it," Zoe cried, shuddering. ''You 
 have saved our lives. The negroes were about to break 
 open the store, brutalize themselves with liquor, and come 
 over here. My brother is sick, and confined to his bed." 
 
 "And you without a protector ? No wonder you are 
 pale as a flower that the storm has drenched. But you are 
 safe now. A part of the men have gone on to Cohatchie ; 
 the others will stay here and protect you. I will stay if the 
 disturbance is quelled in Cohatchie. If I might only pro- 
 
282 WILD WORE. 
 
 tect you through life," he said, looking at hex, as though he 
 longed to clasp her. 
 
 **Is dey gwine to spar' Tom, Miss Zoe ?" interposed a 
 piteous voice in the yard just below. They had forgotten 
 Mandy. Hirne glanced down through the vines, and 
 laughed as he saw the distressed black face and the round- 
 eyed baby. 
 
 *'Yes," he said, '^I don't doubt that Tom ought to 
 hang, but he shall go free — not for his sake or yours, but 
 for this lady's here. Go and make yourself easy. He 
 sha'n't get his deserts this time, if he'll promise to stick to 
 his hoe, and have no more military aspirations. Go and 
 cook all the eggs and chickens you've got, and make any 
 number of corn pones for my men. They are hungry as 
 wolves. Here, hold your apron." 
 
 He threw a handful of Mexican dollars into her lap. 
 *' Get some dinner, or supper rather, quick as you can, or 
 the soldiers may hang your Tom after all. Hungry men 
 are savage." 
 
 *^ It'll be hard to persuade the men to set the scamp 
 free," he said, as the woman moved briskly off. "Yet he 
 hardly deserves to die — ignorant tool that he is — put up to 
 what he tried to do by others. I hear your citizens have ar- 
 rested the parish officers, and are keeping them under guard. 
 Why did they not hang them with their negro dupes ? The 
 plot they tried to carry out was a fiendish one." 
 
 " Are you sure it was a plot of the Eadicals ? I have 
 strong reason to think not. " 
 
 **It is hard for your tender heart to believe that men 
 can be so base, but you do not know their capacity for base- 
 ness. If you had my experience — ! I can not believe 
 that the citizens of this parish will let these men go unpun- 
 ished, and there is no punishment sufficient for them but 
 death." 
 
WILD WORK. 283 
 
 His eyes, that had been so soft a moment before, emitted 
 a savage flash, his month grew stern in an instant. Zoe did 
 not venture to pursue the subject then. She saw in him 
 once more that sudden transition into gloomy fierceness. 
 It was as if he possessed two natures — one magnanimous 
 and tender, the other bitter, relentless. Again she said to 
 herself, " Some great wrong has warped this noble nature." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Whek she went in she found her little niece Nelly deep 
 in consultation with Mrs. Vincent about getting up a sump- 
 tuous dinner for the men who had so opportunely come to 
 their rescue. Several negro women stood by, eager to help, 
 as humble now as they had previously been insolent. They 
 thought in their hearts that " slave time " had come again ; 
 they did not know but their husbands and sons would be 
 hunted and shot down in the swamps ; but all this would 
 not prevent them from eating a hearty dinner, and enjoy- 
 ing a pipe or a nap afterward. Such is the African nature. 
 
 A long table was set on the back piazza, and spread with 
 a varied abundance — dishes of fried ham and eggs, of bacon 
 and greens (the national dish), mounds of biscuits and po- 
 tatoes, a huge peach pie, baked fowl, and sardines and 
 crackers from the store. To this table a part of the hungry 
 men sat down, while the others had their dinner on the 
 porch of the store — a dinner cooked in her best style by 
 Mandy, who flew around with an alacrity born of her anx- 
 iety for Tom. That prisoner had not yet been released, 
 but his wife had contrived to whisper a word of hope in his 
 ear. After dinner was over, all being satisfied with what 
 they had eaten, Hirne proposed to release the cook's hus- 
 13 
 
284 WILD WORK. 
 
 band out of compliment to his wife's skill and good-nature, 
 adding that Tom was simply a numbskull who had let him- 
 self be led, and was ready now to swear on his knees to his 
 future good conduct. Tom was set free, and his voluble 
 gratitude was ludicrous to hear. He trotted off with his 
 baby in his arms, the gladdest darky in the parish. 
 
 It was now sunset, and the men who had gone to Co- 
 hatchie had not returned. The others were eager to cross 
 the riyer and see what had become of their comrades, and 
 what was being done in Cohatchie. 
 
 " Go on," said Hirne. ^' I and four others will be enough 
 to stay and guard this place. I apprehend no further troub- 
 le here. Send word to me immediately what they have 
 decided to do with the carpet-baggers." 
 
 The men crossed the river, the last red sunbeam glint- 
 ing on them as they rode up the bank on the opposite side. 
 The four men who were left sat talking and smoking on 
 the gallery of the store, while the quiet dusk came down. 
 
 Hirne went over to the house. Zoe was sitting on a cool 
 little side-porch, rocking to sleep the two-years-old baby 
 which the new-comer had deposed. She was crooning softly 
 a cradle-song : 
 
 " Sleep, baby, sleep — 
 Thy rest shall angels keep." 
 
 The picture she made was beautiful to the soul of the 
 man so long used to bloody and turbulent scenes. He stood 
 unseen, listening to the soothing strain, looking at the girFs 
 sweet face, flecked with moonlight and leaf-shadows. 
 
 The sigh that escaped him betrayed his presence. She 
 stopped singing, and asked him to come in. He sat down 
 on the steps at her feet. The stars were coming out — pale 
 in the lingering sunset radiance. 
 
 ^'How still and sweet it is !" Zoe said, breaking the si- 
 
WILD WORK, 285 
 
 lence. ^'I can hardly realize that a few hours ago such 
 confusion and terror and such evil passions were at work, 
 or that in the woods yonder, so dim and solemn in the 
 moonlight, lies a mangled human body to bear witness to 
 the Yiolence the day's sun has shone upon. When will 
 such violence and evil passion be done away with ? We 
 see so much of it here. I am heart-sick of it. Better the 
 dreamy monotony of a lotus-land. But that would be no 
 Eden to you men. Your restless spirits would not endure 
 the quiet. I think men invented politics as an excuse for 
 endless strife. " 
 
 He said nothing for a moment, only looking up into her 
 face, so fair in the moonlight. Then he said, slowly : 
 
 " The nearest I knew of haiDpiness for many a day came 
 from change and strife. But now, somehow, these fail to 
 quench the thirst in my breast. I feel myself growing out 
 of taste for them. To-night, as I sit here, facing the even- 
 ing-star, with your sweet hush-a-by song in my ears, it seems 
 to me it would be happiness to sit at the feet of one sweet 
 woman and know her to be yours. " 
 
 Zoe made no answer. She had not heart to rebuke the 
 man she secretly liked so well — the man who had just been 
 the cause of saving her, it might be, from a terrible fate ; 
 but this passion, so suddenly grown bold and rash, needed 
 checking. She sat and thought how she might most gently 
 administer the check. It was Hirne who spoke first. 
 
 *^ Yes, mine has been a storm-tossed bark ; it's little bet- 
 ter than a wreck ; there is no hope for it unless — it might be 
 anchored to this little hand " — suddenly turning, taking up 
 her hand that lay lightly across the sleeping child and 
 pressing it fervently to his bearded lips — *^the hand that 
 belongs to another. Does it ? Tell me, are you still bound 
 to that man ? " 
 
 '^Yes." 
 
28G WILD WORK. 
 
 "And you love him, and will marry him ?" 
 "I do not kn — I mean, you have no right to ask such 
 questions." 
 
 "No right! Why, my happiness for life is bound up 
 in your answer. Tell me you do not love him best. You 
 are silent. What a fool I am ! Of course you love him 
 best. Doubtless he is one of fortune's darlings. His per- 
 son is slick and fair as his fortune, while I — I am rugged as 
 my fate. I would be mad to think that you could love me 
 better. Yet I have been guilty of that very madness at 
 times. Only for a minute, though. Way out on the plains, 
 when the norther chilled my marrow as I rode, I have pic- 
 tured a home and a lighted hearth, and within its ruddy ra- 
 diance a woman with a dainty shape and soft, dark eyes, and 
 the sweetest mouth this side of angel-land, sitting, waiting 
 to smile when she heard my step, to spring to kiss me — to 
 clasp my rugged neck with her soft arms, to — pshaw ! it 
 was the merest mirage, that picture which rose before me as 
 I rode in the cold and dusk with miles of tall, dry grass 
 bending and roaring under the wild trampling of the north 
 wind. But — I feel like fighting with fate for your posses- 
 sion. I don't deserve you, only by my love. I have loved you 
 ever since your eyes looked on me with such divine pity as 
 I sat chained in the hold of the Lavaca. I never could bear 
 pity before. It grew almost as sweet as love when it shone 
 out of your eyes. Long afterward, when I carried you in 
 my arms, wet and shivering in deadly ague, when I held 
 you to my heart for warmth, and covered your little, cold 
 hands with hot kisses, I fancied when you were reviving 
 you called my name — called it tenderly, as if you loved it. 
 You think it presumption in me — a stranger, a rough Texas 
 ranger — to talk to you so. You think in your gentle heart 
 this man has done me a favor, he is unhappy, he is foolishly 
 infatuated ; I hate to repulse him unkindly, but I know 
 
WILD WORK. 287 
 
 nothing of liim except that he is an escaped Government 
 prisoner, that he gambles, fights, gets into scrapes, is an 
 alien from society. A black array of disreputables, cer- 
 tainly. She were a rash girl who would let such a man 
 woo her ; and for a dainty, proud, sweet woman like you ! 
 — And yet, Miss Vincent, had not circumstances thwarted 
 my life and twisted my nature, I would not have been so 
 mean a rival of that other man whom you will bless with 
 your hand. My birth is good. My parents were hon- 
 orable. I am not poor, vagabond though I seem, and I am 
 not devoid of talent. I have been called a genius by my 
 comrades to whom I sang my wild rhymes by a camp-fire. 
 Some of these it may amuse you to read sometimes. I have 
 them here in my pocket, scribbled in an old note-book — 
 a blood-stained relic of war days. I was not a bad sol- 
 dier, Miss Vincent, and I earned a rank of Major by good 
 fighting. I have never done a deliberate wrong to any hu- 
 man being, though my hand has been ready to punish the 
 oppressor and the cowardly imposer upon the weak. I am 
 not such a foe to society either. I hate its shams, I care 
 nothing for its applause, but I do not despise my fellow- 
 men. I would like to do them good if I could. I am edu- 
 cating two boys — orphan sons of brave soldiers — and I pen- 
 sion two widows whose husbands fell fighting at my side. I 
 don^t tell you all this to praise myself, but I would like the 
 woman I love to know my better side, that she might not 
 shrink from me as an iniquitous monster — innately wicked. 
 That I am what respectable and cold-blooded people call 
 wicked is due as much to fate as to innate crookedness. If 
 you knew my story — " 
 
 ^^Tell it to me; you promised once that I should 
 hear it." 
 
 *' You have not forgotten that ? Then you have thought 
 of me. I will tell you my story, though you will think still 
 
288 WILD WORK. 
 
 worse of me, maybe, but you shall hear it. I was bom and 
 reared in Texas. My parents had lost a large property in 
 Virginia, and had come to Texas as much to hide their 
 poverty as to retrieve their fortune. I was a passionate, 
 willful child, but kindness could control me. My parents 
 did not understand this ; their plan was to quell the offend- 
 ing Adam in me by harsh rule. My brothers, who were 
 cast in a gentler mold, they loved and praised. I was 
 looked upon as a black sheep, punished inordinately in 
 childhood, given over to my own devices as I sprang into 
 precocious manhood. As a consequence, I felt myself an 
 alien. I hunted and fished by myself or with the overseer's 
 son — a dissolute youth. I read every book in the queer, 
 miscellaneous library my father brought with him from the 
 States. * Einaldo Rinaldini ' and * Byron's Corsair,' as well as 
 * Rasselas ' and * Pilgrim's Progress.' I carried the battered 
 books with me when I went stock-minding on the prairies ; 
 I read them at night by the light of a tallow dip, I scrib- 
 bled verses on the fly-leaves, and saw visions and dreamed 
 dreams. At seventeen I fell in love ; gave up my whole 
 crude, fermenting nature to a mad passion for a girl with 
 blue eyes and long lashes — one of those blushing, dimpled 
 creatures that near-sighted fools imagine artless and angelic. 
 I thought her truly an angel, and lived in elysium when she 
 promised to marry me — boy that I was, not yet eighteen. 
 On the very night before we were to have eloped she had 
 promised to marry another man. I had heard that day 
 that the marriage would be, but I would not believe it. 
 That evening I went to her house. As I opened the door, 
 I saw lights, an unusual gathering of friends, and my angel 
 dressed in celestial white, standing before the priest, her 
 hand in my rival's. I hardly know what I did, but my 
 madness broke up the wedding. The only thing I remem- 
 ber distinctly after that sight of the white-robed bride is 
 
WILD WORK. 289 
 
 standing by the roadside at night with my brother holding 
 a saddled horse. He was roughly shaking me. 
 
 " ^ Get to your senses ; mount and ride/ he said. And 
 in answer to my inquiry, ' What has happened ? ' he said, 
 * Look at your bloody hands. You have had a fight with 
 Mclyor. He has given you a scratch on the shoulder, and 
 you have stabbed him, maybe, to death. They'll be after 
 3^ou ; mount and go ; there's money in your pocket. ' 
 
 *' At first I refused, but he prevailed on me to go. Nei- 
 ther he nor I thought I was seriously wounded, but before 
 the day dawned I fell off my horse through faintness from 
 loss of blood, and was picked up by a Spanish half-breed 
 and nursed till my strength came back. Then I mounted 
 my horse again and went on, hardly caring where, but with 
 my face toward the setting sun. I passed over into Mexico 
 and got among the Indians. They were friendly, but I did 
 not stay with them. I built me a hut and camped to my- 
 self, and for over a year led a sort of hermit's life, not once 
 seeing a white face. Once I helped the Indians in their 
 fight with a tribe that encroached on their rights. At last 
 I gi-ew restless. I wanted to hear my native tongue, and to 
 look into a white face. I had a little store of gold nuggets 
 and some stones I knew to be of value. I left my hermit- 
 age and started eastward. As I neared the borders of my 
 native State my heart beat faster. I heard the sound of 
 running water, and rode to the boundary river just as a 
 horseman on the opposite side approached its banks. He 
 greeted me with a halloo, spurred his horse down the bank 
 and across the stream, and dismounted and shook hands 
 with me where I stood. I drank from the river and pledged 
 him ^Our Country, the United States for ever.' 
 
 " *^ Take back the toast,' he cried, there's no United 
 States,' and then for the first time I learned that the South 
 had severed from the Union and was fighting for her inde- 
 
290 WILD WORK. 
 
 pendence. He himself was in the service, and had been sent 
 on a secret mission to Mexico. The news of war stirred 
 my blood. I pressed on to join the army. Stopping at 
 home, I found changes there. I had not killed the man 
 Laura was to have married. He recovered, but, before he 
 was well, news came that he was an impostor, that he had 
 already a wife. So my rash act had saved her from that 
 marriage. 
 
 ^' But she was unhappy. Her father had died — she had 
 lost her mother long before — and she was left without 
 money, dependent upon relations who made her a drudge, 
 and grudged her the bread she ate. It hurt me to hear 
 this, though the girl had deceived me so. I would not see 
 her, but I begged my father to offer her a home with him. 
 I was going straight to the seat of war, and I asked him to 
 take her into his family in my place. He did so, and I 
 went to Missouri and joined General Price's division. 
 Afterward my two brothers went to Virginia and fought 
 under Lee. My father followed them — went back to his 
 native country and bought back his old home, taking Laura 
 with him. I went home once severely wounded, and re- 
 mained three months before I was strong enough to sit in 
 the saddle. "When I returned to the army Laura was my 
 wife. She made me believe that she had always been true 
 to me, that her father had forced her to do as she had 
 done. I believed her, trusted her, married her the night 
 before I left, and tore myself from her arms in a passion of 
 grief and tenderness, to return to my duty. I thought 
 only of her in weary marches, in camps and battles, in the 
 long days of pain and loneliness, and when I lay a prisoner 
 in a Northern hospital. I had been taken up wounded and 
 insensible from the battle-field. In the same battle my two 
 brothers were killed. One fell by my side ; as I stooped to 
 put the canteen of water to his dying lips, a fragment of 
 
WILD WORK. 291 
 
 shell struck me in the breast, and another here ^vhere this 
 lock covers the scar on my temple. 
 
 ^' When I was free again the war was over ; our cause was 
 lost. I hurried home, or to the place where my home had 
 been. I found only a heap of ashes. I asked for my wife, 
 my parents ; the neighbors told a sickening tale. A party 
 of marauders — an irregular offshoot from the Federal army 
 — had burned my home, and maltreated the old man, my 
 father, so that he died soon after. My mother died a few 
 weeks later from the shock of grief and terror, and the 
 exposure to the winter night. ' But, my wife ! my wife ! ' 
 I cried. The people looked at each other and shook their 
 heads. ' She is dead, then ? they killed her ? ' Still they 
 shook their heads. At last one said : * It is a pity she had 
 not died, friend. The troops occupied the town afterward, 
 and she w^ent off with one of the oflScers.' 
 
 *^ Could a man hear these words and keep his brain cool ? 
 Mine was on fire, yet outwardly I was calm. I hunted out 
 the wretch who had headed the band that murdered my fa- 
 ther. I ought to have shot him down without giving him 
 a chance for his life, but I could never do that. I provoked 
 him to fight, and I killed him in fair combat. I was taken 
 and thrown into jail. I made no defense. I knew none 
 would be admitted. I was a Southerner — a Confederate 
 officer. I was tried, condemned to be hanged. Afterward 
 the sentence was commuted to confinement in the peniten- 
 tiary for life. I was three years an inmate of the prison. 
 One night there was an attempt on the part of the prisoners 
 to bum the building. I helped to save it. I saved the life 
 of the keeper when some of the incendiaries were about to kill 
 him. For this I was recommended to mercy, pardoned, set 
 free. Pardoned after suffering three years of misery and 
 disgrace for having done a just deed. I had rather they had 
 hung me, but for one thing— the chance to get revenge." 
 
292 WILD WORK. 
 
 "And the woman ?" Zoe asked, "your — ?" 
 
 "My wife ? I saw her once afterward — the only time 
 since I parted from her twelve hours after that ill-judged 
 marriage. It was in New York. As I walked the streets 
 one night a sound of music and dancing came to my ears. 
 A silvery laugh made me look up to the open, lighted win- 
 dows of the hall. At one of them stood a woman, the 
 light full on her bare shoulders and jeweled arms. It was 
 Laura. She was as blooming as ever ; no remorse or shame 
 had changed her. Two hours after, the floor of the build- 
 ing in which the revel was held gave way; Laura was 
 among the hurt. She never walked again. I provided for 
 her comfort until she died, though I could not bring my- 
 self to see her. She was a soulless siren ; a soft-eyed, pink- 
 cheeked simulator of innocence. I am glad you are no way 
 like her, my dark, proud little love. Don't be angry with 
 me. One may love the Madonna and praise her, sitting at 
 her feet, as I at yours. 
 
 " Well, I have told you the circumstances that made me 
 w^hat I am. You know that I have been condemned to die 
 on the gallows, have lain in a State's prison, though I 
 never harmed an innocent man or wronged a woman. But, 
 ah ! mine were rough ways and a wild life ; and blood and 
 chains will stain, though one be shed in a right cause and 
 the other unjustly worn. I am not fit to be your associate, 
 my white innocence."' 
 
 He leaped to his feet as though the thought stung him 
 to the quick. 
 
 "I know you are glad that your husband that is to be 
 has no such stains ; that he is a reputable man who makes 
 money and takes care of himself, and keeps to smooth, beat- 
 en ways. Society smiles on him ; so it might have smiled 
 on me had I been as little tempted and made of colder 
 stuff. Then you might have respected me — given me your 
 
WILD WORK. 293 
 
 hand as a sign that you took me for an honest man and a 
 friend, if no more." 
 
 She stretched out her hand impulsively. 
 
 "I do take you for an honest man and a friend," she 
 said. *^You have passed through the furnace; you were 
 more than mortal if you did not bear the scars. But scars 
 are only skin-deep ; you may yet — " 
 
 She was going to read him a homily ; but she faltered, 
 embarrassed. That clasp in which he held her hand, that 
 look, were too fervent for the friendliness she wanted him 
 to pledge her. 
 
 *^0h! my sweet," he said, bending over her, "that 
 other man may be worthier of you, but he can never love 
 you as I do. If you would be my saint, I would worship 
 goodness — in you — for ever." 
 
 He had knelt at her feet, still holding her hand, as 
 though it were a last hope. He started as he heard the 
 gallop of horses. The riders drew up to the front gate and 
 hallooed for Hirne. 
 
 " Here ! " he cried, starting up. The horsemen rode 
 around to the back gate, and Hirne went out to see them. 
 Zoe carried her pretty, sleeping burden into the room. 
 Hurrying back, she stood on the steps of the piazza and 
 heard the answer to Hirne's question : "What news from 
 Cohatchie?" 
 
 " The Radical officers are to be sent out of the State 
 to-morrow with an escort to protect them." 
 
 " Sent off ! Were they not convicted of having incited 
 the negroes to rob and murder the white people of the 
 parish ? " 
 
 ^* Of course. One of the black rascals that was hanged 
 owned to being put up to firing on the patrol by the Eadi- 
 cals." 
 
 "And all those frantic calls for armed men to help put 
 
29J: WILD WORK, 
 
 down a riot result in the hanging of a few negroes ! The 
 real offenders to be sent safely away ! Are the men here so 
 mortally afraid of prospective bayonets that they let mur- 
 derers go free ? " 
 
 "No, Cap'n, all are not such cowards," exclaimed a 
 coarse voice. Cobb rode out from among the others, and 
 went on speaking: '^There's men yonder in Cohatchis 
 that are mad enough at the verdict of the committee. 
 They've got plenty of grit to break it up, but they want 
 somebody to go ahead. Let me have a word with you, 
 Cap'n." 
 
 He rode up close to Hirne and talked to him in low 
 tones. Zoe heard Hirne say : 
 
 ** I'm with you ; I'll saddle my horse and be ready in ten 
 minutes." 
 
 ** The sooner the better," Cobb replied. " By the time 
 we cross the river and ride to Cohatchie it will be day- 
 break, and our foxes leave cover at sunrise. ' ' 
 
 Zoe shuddered. She knew now what was intended. 
 
 '*I will see Hirne before he crosses the river," she re- 
 solved. '* He must have nothing to do with this, unless to 
 prevent it if he can. " 
 
 She called him softly as he was passing through the 
 yard on his way to saddle his horse, which had been fast- 
 tened near the store. He came to her, and she began with 
 trembling earnestness : 
 
 "Don't go on that mission to-night. Captain Hirne." 
 
 " Are you afraid to have me leave you ? A guard will 
 stay here to protect yon. I do not think the negroes will 
 attempt any harm. " 
 
 "I know they will not. I would not be afraid, to 
 stay here without protectors. Levi is dead. Only his 
 influence wrought the negroes up to making that hasty 
 show of violence — half-armed handful as they were, come 
 
WILD WORK. 295 
 
 together with a crude notion of self-defense and retalia- 
 tion." 
 
 ** How is that ? You do not believe the disturbance 
 here was a part of the riot planned by the Eadical gang ? " 
 
 ** Captain Hirne, what proof have we that a riot was 
 planned by the Radicals ? Is it not a senseless act, for 
 those belonging to a party that has already the balance of 
 power in the parish to plan to ruin themselves and their 
 cause by such a step ? " 
 
 " What, then, did this excitement in Cohatchie mean ? 
 — this great hue and cry, and calling together of armed 
 men to protect the town ? " 
 
 " Captain Hirne — it goes against my heart to say so — 
 but I fear the demonstrations in Cohatchie meant a deep- 
 laid plot on our side ; not a plot of the people's, though 
 they were duped and led into it by a few men (perhaps only 
 one man) who are mad to rid themselves of Eadical rule. 
 You will say that this is a just motive, and that these office- 
 holders are corrupt and are aliens, unfit to represent our 
 people. But surely you will not hold that they should be 
 got rid of by assassination ! You must feel what a horrible 
 wrong it would be to take the lives of those six men in Co- 
 hatchie when no crime has been proved upon them. There 
 is nothing in their past lives to justify the darker charge 
 brought against them. They have lived among us for 
 years ; they have done many a kindly act to our citizens. 
 One of them has just married a daughter of our people ; 
 all of them but two have families. They have resigned 
 their offices ; they only ask to leave the State in safety, and 
 to have their wives and little ones sent after them. Cap- 
 tain Hirne, have nothing to do with killing these men, I 
 beseech you. Prevent it if you can." 
 
 The Texas ranger stood like a bloodhound suddenly 
 leashed in sight of the game. The wrongs he had received 
 
296 WILD WORK. 
 
 made him over-ready to believe evil of the people at whose 
 hands he had suffered. He was fired by the picture of the 
 horrible negro outbreak inspired by Eadical oppressors. 
 The old strife was stirred up in his breast, the smoldering 
 fire of vengeance blazed up anew. But he would do no 
 harm to innocent men ; he would only punish the guilty. 
 
 He listened in profound, startled attention to Zoe's 
 words. 
 
 **This is a strange revelation," he said. "A political 
 plot ! One of our men the instigator ! Miss Vincent, will 
 you tell me why you believe this ? " 
 
 ''I came to believe it partly from putting things to- 
 gether, but chiefly because of what I heard from the lips of 
 a man who declares he was hired to bring on a disturbance 
 in a different way. That plan failed. Afterward the man 
 was dangerously wounded while on this place. While he was 
 so ill he told me of his being employed to create a dis- 
 turbance with the Radical office-holders. I knew that he 
 received money and messages from the man who had em- 
 ployed him, as he said. Yet he was a stranger — an acknowl- 
 edged desperado." 
 
 " Where is this man ? " 
 
 "He is here." 
 
 ''Will you send him to me ?" 
 
 " I will. I believe he will repeat to you what he owned 
 to me." 
 
 As she turned off she saw a dusky form slink closer 
 into the shadow of a tree a few steps from the piazza. It 
 was Cobb. Standing on the ground below them, he had 
 caught the import of Zoe's appeal to Hirne, and he resolved 
 to forestall her. He watched her, and saw her approach 
 Dan, who was leading his horse from the stable. 
 
 '* I'm going with them, if I die for it. I can't stand it 
 any longer," Dan said. 
 
WILD WORK. 297 
 
 She stopped him, and made her request that he would 
 tell Hirne what he had told her of his being hired by 
 Alver. 
 
 "Anything to please you," Cobb heard ISTolan say. " I 
 owe Alver a grudge, anyhow. If he has done anything to 
 Jim, he won't plot much more." 
 
 Zoe went back to the house, and Cobb came up to Dan 
 as he was fastening his horse. 
 
 "Where's your Captain ?" Nolan asked hiin. 
 
 " Yonder," returned Cobb, pointing to the store. " But, 
 look here, my friend, you had better think twice before you 
 blab to him what's on your tongue's end. Keep what you 
 know to yourself and it'll be a sword oyer Alver, and as 
 good as a bank account to you. You can check on the 
 Colonel whenever you are hard up. But let it out, and 
 Where's the good to you or anybody. Another thing : if 
 you try to spoil sport to-night, you stand in your own light. 
 Them prisoners don't start off from Cohatchie empty- 
 handed ; you understand ? " 
 
 Dan did understand. "You're in the right," he said; 
 "I'll not stand in the way of sport." 
 
 He hunted up Hirne, and said : 
 
 "I am the man Miss Vincent told you about. I'm 
 sorry she brought up what I said, because it was only a 
 hoax. I did say some foolish things when I was out of my 
 head with fever ; and, when she asked me about them after- 
 ward, I didn't retract. I added to them, just to seem big 
 in her eyes. It was foolish, but I thought nothing would 
 come of it. Now she's made a serious matter of it, I must 
 out with the truth." 
 
 "Are you telling me the truth, man ?" Hirne said, in 
 his incisive way. 
 
 " Do you think I'd tell you anything else ? I — " 
 
 Cobb came up. 
 
208 WILD WORK. 
 
 *^Not saddled up yet, Cap'n ? Where's your horse? 
 I'll get him ready for you." 
 
 ** Thank you. I'll go over and say good-by to the people 
 who have been so kind to us." 
 
 ** They've all gone to bed, I believe," Cobb said. But 
 Ilirne went on to the house. Zoe was attending to her 
 brother. He waited a while, and, thinking that she had 
 retired, went back to the store. 
 
 ** Women — at least gentle, innocent ones like that 
 young girl — are too tender-hearted to judge rightly. And 
 they can not comprehend the stern necessity of punish- 
 ment," he said to himself. 
 
 A moment later he and Cobb, Dan Nolan and the two 
 men who had brought the news from Cohatchie, rode down 
 to the landing, where they put themselves across the river 
 in the flat. Not till they had landed on the opposite bank 
 did Zoe find out that they had gone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 * " If I could have seen him again ; if I had only made 
 him promise that he would not harm those men!" she 
 thought as she watched the party spur their horses up the 
 steep bank of the river and ride away in the direction of 
 Cohatchie. " But surely Dan Nolan told him ; he prom- 
 ised he would ; and what Dan could tell him of Alver's 
 former scheme to involve the office-holders in a disturbance 
 must rouse the suspicion that there is some such secret de- 
 sign in this reported outbreak, and that these men may be 
 innocent of the charge against them. Yet Captain Hirne 
 has gone to Cohatchie ; for what purj^ose ? God forbid 
 
WILD WORK. 299 
 
 that it is to head a mob to lynch and murder these officers. 
 No, no, he has gone to restrain violence, to prevent blood- 
 shed. He would not be so unmindful of my entreaties." 
 
 A step broke upon her anxious musing. Mandy ap- 
 proached and handed her a scrap of paper. 
 
 "Cap'n Hirne give it to me," she said. "He tore de 
 paper outer his hat-crown and writ on it by de moonlight. 
 He's a fine man. I'll never forgit him for sparin' Tom ; 
 nor you nuther, Miss Zoe." 
 
 Zoe took the crumpled bit of paper to the light and read 
 the words penciled upon it. 
 
 " I waited to see you again before I went away, but you 
 did not come out, and I was afraid of disturbing you. I 
 know how sorely you need rest. I will see you some time 
 to-morrow. Yours, Hirne." 
 
 Mandy had followed Zoe into the room. 
 
 "Here's Cap'n Hirne's coat," she said. "He lef it on 
 de store gallery and ax me to give it to you to keep for him. 
 Some papers in de pocket and a book. He say he tol' you 
 about de book." 
 
 The note somewhat quieted Zoe's anxiety. Hirne would 
 not have written to her so calmly, she reasoned, if he had 
 been setting out on a bloody mission in disregard of her 
 prayers. She had gained a hold upon this wild nature, but 
 was it strong enough to overpower the long-indulged pas- 
 sion for strife and revenge that seized him at times with 
 almost maniacal frenzy ? More than once she had seen 
 him in the grasp of this demon. An hour ago she had 
 shuddered at the sudden change which came over him on 
 hearing the news Cobb brought from Cohatchie ; the grimly- 
 set mouth, the lurid light that leaped into his eyes. That 
 look haunted her when she at last lay upon her bed. But 
 
300 WILD WORK. 
 
 the long strain on brain and body soon reacted into rest, 
 and she slept profoundly. 
 
 She woke from that deep sleep to see the sun shining 
 brightly through the vines at the window, and hear the 
 birds twittering in the trees outside. For a moment she 
 lay in delicious oblivion of everything but present sen- 
 sation ; then the recollection of yesterday's wild drama 
 rushed over her, with the thought that it was not yet 
 ended, and the dread that the darkest scene was yet to be 
 unfolded. 
 
 The dread clung to her as she went about her domestic 
 duties, helped by grateful Mandy. It was increased by a 
 communication from Tom Ludd. Hugh, who was now 
 free of fever, and eager for news from Cohatchie, had the 
 negro at his bedside, plying him with questions. He learned 
 that the four men whom Hirne had left to guard the place 
 had crossed the river at daybreak on their way to Alver's 
 head-quarters, and that one of them had said in Tom's hear- 
 ing that there would be ''wild work before the sun went 
 down, for Hirne was on the Radicals' track, and they'd 
 find he wasn't one like the Cohatchie folks — to make a big 
 fuss and then draw back scared like a settin' goose." 
 
 " It's my opinion the officers will be lynched as they 
 come out of prison," Vincent said. '' It can be done with- 
 out much fear of consequences. With all that mob they've 
 got together there'll be no telling who did the mischief. 
 An investigation of it will be another edition of ' Who struck 
 Billy Patterson.'" 
 
 Zoe turned away, sickened by the horror these words 
 suggested. And he would be foremost in this foul massa- 
 cre — the man she loved. No, not loved. She said to her- 
 self that she did not love Hirne. She would not suffer her- 
 self to love such a man — ^but she felt in her heart that his 
 words and looks lived in her as none others' did. 
 
V^ILD WORK. 301 
 
 The long summer day wore on. How quiet it was ! 
 The broad fields lay green under the sun, no negroes at 
 work in them, no negroes sauntering along the riyer bank, 
 or hanging about the store. The echoing volley that had 
 announced the fate of their leader had made them cower still 
 closer in their coverts. They would not stir out even for 
 food. Tom was the only negro man to be seen on this side 
 the river for miles ; and he kept as close to Zoe as possible. 
 Presently, with his round eyes dilated with fright, he re- 
 ported that a party of armed horsemen were on the other 
 side of the river preparing to cross. 
 
 "'Tain't de ones dat was here yistiddy," he said. 
 * * Mebbe dese here won't know I done had my trial and got 
 clar, do I got papers to show for it. Mighty strong papers, 
 too ; so dat young fellow dat laugh so tol' me. He gin 
 me one paper, and when I showed it to Cap'n Hirne de 
 Cap'n kinder frown and laugh to onct, an' gin me anuther 
 one. I wish you'd jes' zamine 'em, Miss Zoe." 
 
 He took two folded scraps of paper from a flabby old 
 pocket-book and handed them to Zoe. One of these to- 
 bacco-scented slips, dated "Head-quarters, Hirne's Divis- 
 ion," called upon all men ''to know by these presents that 
 Tom Ludd, a citizen of the African persuasion, had been 
 pardoned for his share in the late disturbance through the 
 following considerations : First, that a young lady, pretty 
 as red shoes, had begged for him ; second, that he was a 
 non-compos of the first degree ; and, third, that his wife 
 could cook a chicken-pie fit to set before an emperor, or 
 Sam Houston, if he was alive." 
 
 The other one of Tom's ''strong papers" was a certifi- 
 cate that he had been taken up and acquitted. It was 
 signed by Hirne, representing volunteers from Sabine 
 County, Texas, and De Soto Parish, La. 
 
 As Zoe looked up from reading it she saw a negro 
 
302 WILD WORK. 
 
 woman coming toward the house through the cotton, a 
 tin bucket on her arm. Her wild look drew forth the in- 
 quiry : 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 The woman shook her head and muttered incoherently 
 at first; then, coming nearer, she held up her hand and 
 said, in a strange half whisper : 
 
 "I've seen a sight I'll never forgit to my dyin' day. I 
 slipped out in de swamp to take some vittles to my George. 
 I see a colored man standin' up aginst a tree. I caU out, 
 ' Who's dar ? ' No answer. I call agin. I see de limb 
 close to him shake, and dat's all. I went closter. I see it's 
 Levi. Xobody else so tall, and I see his lip turn up in dat 
 scornin' way. I tought him 'live standin' dere till I got 
 clost up, and, flop ! a buzzard flew out from de limb by his 
 head ; an' den I see he's tied to a tree, an' his face an' 
 bress full o' bloody holes where de shots tore, an' de buz- 
 zards done picked — " 
 
 " Hush ! " cried Zoe, covering her eyes with her hands 
 as though to shut out the horrid vision conjured up before 
 her. Tom rolled over and groaned in mortal fright. The 
 next moment he caught sight of the horsemen who had 
 crossed the river, and were now riding up to the house. 
 He dashed into the kitchen, darted at a nearly empty flour- 
 baiTcl, and turned it up over him. Under this defense he 
 squatted, while the men dismounted, quenched their thirst 
 at the cistern, and, filling their pockets with peaches, sat 
 on the edge of the piazza eating fruit and talking to Vin- 
 cent, who got up and came to the window in his shirt- 
 sleeves. Tom did not venture from his hiding-place, and 
 Mandy, coming to hunt for him, answered his sepulchral 
 whisper, "Is dey gone?" by overturning the barrel and 
 revealing his motley figure. 
 
 " Go out and shake yerself, yer scary goose !" she said. 
 
WILD WORK, 303 
 
 " YouVe got a mess er biskitts in that wool o' youm, let 
 alone the rest of yer body." 
 
 The news from Cohatchie was better than Zoe had dared 
 to hope for. The prisoners had been allowed to go safely 
 away, accompanied by a guard they had chosen themselves. 
 Among these was Hayne, the young Southerner, who had 
 been such a pet with the "Witchells, and Henry Bronn, 
 Zoe's shy admirer. The Captain of the guard was a man 
 who had lately insinuated himself into the favor of the 
 Eadical ofi&cers. 
 
 It was something that the prisoners had been suffered 
 to depart, but the man who told Vincent of it laughed 
 sardonically, as he added that he'd advise them not to crow 
 until they were out of the woods. 
 
 "They took money enough to get them through all 
 right," said another ; "and they've got fine horses." 
 
 " They'll get through none the quicker for that," mut- 
 tered the first speaker, significantly, whereat one, who 
 seemed to be in command, called out : 
 
 "You had better hold your tongue, unless you know 
 what you are talking about," at the same time directing a 
 meaning glance at Vincent. The same man had brought 
 Hugh an order from Alver to report to him at Cohatchie, 
 and had questioned Vincent closely about his illness, as 
 though he suspected it to be a sham. He volunteered the 
 information that Alver was going " to keep things straight 
 from now out, and that, more than ever, his motto would 
 be, * Those who are not with us are against us.' " 
 
 "We shall have some news before to-morrow," Hugh 
 said as the reconnoitring party rode gayly away through 
 the fields and along the river-bank, never once penetrating 
 the swamp, where they might have found what they pro- 
 fessed to be seeking — the negroes that had been in arms. 
 
 " There's more in the wind than these fellows will let 
 
304: WILD WORK. 
 
 on," continued Vincent ; " more tlum they really know of, 
 maybe, though one of them seems to suspect." 
 
 Still Zoe was hopeful that the worst was over. She 
 found herself looking eagerly across the river for- a sight of 
 Hirne's returning figure. The old note-book he had wanted 
 her to see had fallen from the pocket of his coat while that 
 garment was being shaken and brushed by Mandy. 
 
 "It must a' gone through the war," was her comment. 
 *' Its all battered like as a bullet or a ba3"'net's come afoul 
 of it. And here's a stain dat looks like blood. 'Tain't 
 much of a thing to be to tin' about. " 
 
 But the book was "much" to Zoe. She took it out 
 with her under the trees. Lying in a russet hammock — 
 a-swing, like an oriole's nest, from a sycamore limb — she 
 turned the pages of the old book, and read the fragments 
 of verses he had scribbled in the saddle, on the prairie bi- 
 vouac, or by the lonely watch-fire. They gave her broken, 
 panoramic pictures of his wild, sad life, and strange, two- 
 sided being. And she traced through them the growth of 
 the shadow that overcast his better nature ; and also, as it 
 seemed to her, the gradual passing of the shadow — a strug- 
 gling out of the lurid mists of strife — a strong aspiration 
 for a pure and more peaceful atmosphere. Zoe said to her- 
 self what a miserable thing it would be if this political 
 agitation should draw him back into the old, turbulent 
 vortex. 
 
 The verses at the beginning of the book were crude out- 
 pourings of boyish enthusiasm and passion, together with 
 rhapsodies over the vast freedom of the prairies and moun- 
 tains. Then came outbursts of patriotism — a clash of war 
 cymbals — songs that stirred like bugle blasts, and that had 
 been sung by his comrades on the march and by camp fires. 
 
 Blotted pages followed — the fierce, raving utterances of 
 despair and revenge. They were too painful for Zoe to read. 
 
^YILD WORK. 305 
 
 In the group of poems that preceded these she found a 
 dramatic colloquy that embodied the incident Hirne had 
 related to her — his meeting the Confederate Secret Service 
 messenger on the banks of a Mexican river, and hearing 
 from him the startling news of the rupture between the 
 States. In the poem the self-exile welcomes the tidings of 
 war. It offers an outlet for the energies of his disturbed 
 being. Seizing his gun and turning his face to the scenes 
 of civilization, now the scenes of strife, he says : 
 
 "A woman's treachery drove me here, half maddened by despair, 
 Like a wild, wounded beast, to make in loneliness my lair. 
 I shunned my kind, and sought to find in trackless solitude. 
 In savage sport and perils wild, cure for my bitter mood. 
 But this is better ; this is rare. Hail ! glorious news of war ! 
 Hail ! ratthog challenge of the guns ! Sweeter your music far 
 Than the betraying song of love. I'll drown in battle's roar 
 All memory of the siren voice that I shall hear no more. 
 And life and death are one to me, for not an eye would weep 
 If in my soldier's blanket wrapped I slept a bloody sleep. 
 Welcome the tidings of the war ! My wild blood bounds apace. 
 Come, tried and trusty rifle-friend ; give us a foremost place. 
 Here's better game for you and me than buffalo or deer; 
 "We'll laugh at death we've faced before, and mock at coward fear." 
 
 Farther on he wrote of that four years' madness, so ill- 
 judged in its beginning, so bloody in its issues : 
 
 " Down on the mighty drama rushed 
 
 The midnight curtain of despair. 
 Its lights are quenched, its music hushed, 
 
 Not one wild echo stirs the air. 
 Dried are the tears its pathos woke, 
 
 Still'd are the plaudits of its power, 
 Cold are the loving hearts it broke, 
 
 And green its graves — the mournful dower 
 
 It left to this forgetful hour." 
 
306 WILD WORK 
 
 Into the later poems had stolen a gentler spirit, though 
 yeined with the melancholy fatalism which he had told Zoe 
 was born of his persistent ill-fortune. One little love song, 
 which by its date had been written since he had known Zoe, 
 was called "Parted." 
 
 " We met ; it was when langhing Spring 
 
 Her earliest wreath was twining, 
 
 When birds were out on dewy wing, 
 
 And skies were blue and shining. 
 I little reck'd of sunny skies. 
 Or April bloom beguiling, 
 My sunshine was your radiant eyes, 
 My spring your tender smiling. 
 
 " I said to Fate, * I will not fear 
 
 Your voice of cruel scorning ' ; 
 I said to Memory, ' Flap not here 
 
 Your raven wing of warning. 
 The days must be for you and me. 
 
 The nights, all wild and lonely ; 
 But now I bid your shadow flee, 
 
 This hour is mine, mine only.* 
 
 *' Alas! I heard upon the hill 
 
 Fate's low, defiant laughter ; 
 Ah ! felt you not my heart grow still, 
 
 My lips grow cold thereafter? 
 I saw, and knew it for a sign, 
 
 The breezeless poplar quiver, 
 And felt, even with your heart to mine. 
 
 We'd met to part for ever. 
 
 " Dear love, the saintly sages tell 
 A wild and wondrous story. 
 That death shall not the spirit quell, 
 Nor quench its fadeless glory ; 
 
WILD WORK. 307 
 
 I heed not these, but in my soul 
 
 A prophet voice is telling 
 That love knows never mortal goal, 
 
 Nor ever earthly kneUing. 
 Beyond the stars, whose silver feet 
 
 Through heaven's blue pathways quiver, 
 In some fair Aidenn we shall meet 
 
 Who have parted here for ever." 
 
 A tear fell upon the old note-book. 
 
 **The passionate heart that throbs through these poems 
 is mine," thought Zoe. There was a bitter-sweet thrill in 
 the thought, and in the echo of the words : 
 
 *^0h! my sweet, that other man may be worthier of 
 you, but he can never love you as I do." 
 
 The leaves whispered to the wind, the young orioles 
 chirped in their hanging nests, and Zoe lay in her russet 
 swing, her eyes fixed on the blue distance, her Lands un- 
 consciously clasping Hirne's book to her breast. 
 
 She did not know that a party of horsemen were ap- 
 proaching the house until they drew rein before the gate 
 and hallooed. She started up. One of the men was Henry 
 Bronn. Two others were men she had heard named as 
 being of the guard who had gone to take the prisoners safely 
 out of the State. Why were they here ? 
 
 Zoe went up to the paling and returned their greeting. 
 
 " How is it you have returned so soon ?" she asked. 
 
 There was a short hesitation ; then one of the men said, 
 with a forced laugh : 
 
 " They got away from us." 
 
 " Got away ! Henry, how is this ? " 
 
 The young man's round, stolid face was pale, and his 
 eyes had a dazed expression. He shifted his glance away 
 from Zoe's penetrating look. He hesitated, and his com- 
 rade caught up the answer. 
 11 
 
308 WILD WORK 
 
 ^' They got av/ay from us, I tell you, Miss Zee ; didn't 
 they, Henry ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, they got away," the boy said, trying to imitate 
 his companion's off-hand way of speaking. But Zoe saw 
 that he seemed stunned. Only some great horror could 
 have so affected his commonplace nature. 
 
 "How did they get away ?" she asked, sternly. 
 
 " Oh ! just got away ; it's too long a story to tell right 
 now. We are in a mighty hurry ; just called to know if 
 there's a fellow here named Dan Nolan. Alver wants him 
 to report to him right away. His brother's in the calaboose 
 at Cohatchie for cutting up." 
 
 " Dan Nolan is not here. He went last night to Cohat- 
 chie with some men who came from the Texas border." 
 
 "Then Alver'll probably see him some time to-day. 
 Thanks and good-day to you. Miss Zoe. Come, boys." 
 
 Henry was riding away with the others, when Zoe de- 
 tained him by a word. 
 
 "One moment," she said; "Henry, what became of 
 those men you went to guard ? They did not get away ; I 
 know what that expression means. They were killed. 
 Henry Bronn, did you murder the men that were under 
 your care ? " 
 
 " I did not. Miss Zoe. I will come back in an hour if 
 I can slip away and tell you all." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Ai^ hour afterward it was again dark. Zoe sat where 
 she had been sitting last night when Hirne had thrown 
 himself at her feet and told her the story of his turbulent 
 
WILD WORK. 309 
 
 life. She had been looking for him every hour of the day. 
 She craved his coming that she might hear from him the 
 solution of a doubt that ached at her heart. She longed 
 to hear from his own lips that he had not disregarded her 
 prayer, that, if it was true these men were murdered, he 
 had no hand in their massacre. She jumped up eagerly 
 when she heard some one ride up to the gate. But it was 
 Henry Bronn's low, sturdy figure that came up the walk 
 and stood before her, holding out his hand. She grasped 
 it and looked hard in his face. 
 
 " You have come to answer my question, Henry ? " she 
 said. *'What has become of the officers you went to 
 guard ? " 
 
 His hand shook as she held it, his eyes dropped. 
 
 ^^Miss Zoe, they got what they deserved, I reckon," he 
 said at last. 
 
 " Henry, do you mean to tell me they were killed ? " 
 
 ''They are dead. Miss Zoe." 
 
 '' God ! all of them killed ? Omar Witchell too— 
 that gentle-hearted, inoffensive soul, and young Edgeville, 
 and Devene, who has just married one of our Southern 
 girls, gray-haired Howard, and Wallace and Hollin, who 
 have wives here in our midst and little children, were all 
 these killed?" 
 
 "All of them." 
 
 ''Grod have mercy on the soul that planned this dread- 
 ful deed, and upon those who executed it." 
 
 "They deserved it. Miss Zoe. They tried to stir up a 
 riot among the blacks. " 
 
 "I am glad you believe so. I am glad to think that 
 most of these men-slayers believed they were doing a just 
 act, that they were executing rightful punishment upon 
 criminals. I fear it was a dreadful mistake. I fear a great 
 wrong has been done." 
 
310 WILD WOES'. 
 
 "Miss Zoo, you know that Captain Witchell extortioned 
 upon the people." 
 
 "Should his sins be visited upon the heads of these 
 men ? Should a suspicion be punished as if it was a cer- 
 tainty ? But all discussion is wasted breath now. The 
 deed is done. There is one thing I must know. You say 
 the guard did not kill the men — who did ? " 
 
 "A mob that followed us." 
 
 "And who composed that mob ?" 
 
 He shook his head. "There were so many strangers 
 here," he said, evasively, "no telling who did anything." 
 
 "Why did not the guard try to defend the men that 
 were in their charge ? " 
 
 Again he shook his head. "They never helped ; none 
 of them that I.saw," he said, "but — I mustn't say, though ; 
 I won't accuse anybody, for I don't know. But it was very 
 strange. I know I never once suspected. It came so sud- 
 den and awful ; it make^ my head whirl to think of it. I 
 see it all before me e^ery minute ; I see Omar's face, I hear 
 their groans in my ears. Oh ! Miss Zoe, it served 'em right, 
 I s'pose, but it was awful." 
 
 " Henry, will you not tell me who did it ? " Zoe cried, 
 trembling. The thought that Hirne might be the leader 
 in the assassination was agony to her. 
 
 "I will tell you all T'know. We started to carry the 
 men out of the State. We started in good faith ; at least 
 I did. I don't answer for anybody else, because I don't 
 know. I hardly knew the Captain of the guard ; he seemed 
 a clever enough fellow. The officers picked us out ; Omar 
 chose me. I knew him right well ; we had camped out on 
 Lake Clear, and fished and hunted together. He was a 
 first-rate fellow to camp with — so good-humored and so full 
 of dry fun. Edgeville was with us too. He was a splendid 
 shot, and could tell such tales of wild adventure around 
 
WILD WORK. ^11 
 
 the camp fire. Oh ! to think of how I saw him this morn- 
 
 ing—" 
 
 '^Goon." 
 
 ''The sun was an hour high when we started. The 
 men had sat up all night, fixing up their business and 
 writing letters. I carried the letters up to their wives, and 
 brought back the things they wanted to take with them." 
 
 " Did they not see their families to say good-by ?" 
 
 "No, it was against orders. The women had hoped to 
 see them up to the last. It was right pitiful to hear them 
 cry over the letters. I sat down on the gallery while they 
 read 'em and packed up the things. I knew Mark Hollin's 
 wife. They stopped at our house when they first came to 
 this country. She came out to me, and took my hand and 
 said : ' Henry, stand hj my husband. Keep good faith with 
 them all, and we will pray for you for ever,' Her little 
 boy knew me and threw his arms around my neck. ' I send 
 this kiss to my pa,' he said ; 'tell him we're comin' to him 
 soon. Ma has sent him my picture and hers, and I put his 
 diamond buttons in his shirt myself. Mamma, what makes 
 you cry so ? you know we are going where pa is right 
 soon.' I think Witchell's sisters had fears of what would 
 happen. But the men seemed in pretty good spirits when 
 we started. They looked pale and anxio^^is, but Omar 
 spoke to us pleasantly, and so did Devene, tlK)Ugh he kept 
 his eyes looking over the heads of the crowd at the house 
 we could just see, where his wife stood at the window kiss- 
 ing her hand to him. She had been bent on coming to see 
 him, and he had to send a special messenger to tell her not 
 to try it. Edgeville joked and laughed. He had sent a 
 letter by me to Auzete Blair the night before, and I had 
 brought back an answer to it and her picture ; I saw her 
 crying as she wrote. There was a crowd round the door 
 when the prisoners came out and mounted, but they all 
 
312 WILD WORK 
 
 fell back, and we rode out quietly, nobody following us. 
 Alver pledged them that they should be taken care of. 
 Then he came up and took Rick Waldon — the Captain of 
 the guard — aside and talked to him for some minutes, and 
 then a big, dark-looking fellow they called Cobb spoke a 
 few words to the Captain and laughed ; I saw that same 
 man afterward with the mob that did the killing. He had 
 his hat slouched over his eyes, but I knew him. 
 
 '^We took the road up the river to S , The officers 
 
 were riding fast horses ; they were fresh, and wanted to go. 
 ^ Not too fast,' the Captain said, and we checked in a lit- 
 tle. We had put a good many miles between us and Co- 
 hatch ie. When we mounted a hill Wallace looked back and 
 pointed to a cloud of dust way behind us, half a mile off, 
 I reckon, and asked : ' What's that ? ' and Rick told him it 
 was some of the boys of the guard whose horses could not 
 keep up. Every time we mounted a rise we saw that 
 cloud of dust, and once we saw men on horseback through 
 it, and Howard said: 'Let's ride faster, boys,' and they 
 rode on at a quicker pace, and we were forced to keep up 
 with them. At last Rick Waldon said he was tired, and 
 our horses were getting blown. He would not go a step 
 farther until he rested. Here was a watermelon patch, and 
 yonder, a little farther off, was a store and a cistern. We'd 
 stnke a halt and send for water and melons while the 
 horses took a rest. So we got down. It was just beyond 
 our parish line ; I remember that, for I heard somebody say 
 so, and Devene looked quickly at Witchell and seemed dis- 
 turbed, but Omar didn't seem to mind his look. He was 
 sitting on the grass, and was pale and absent-minded. 
 Edgeville was as gay as ever, but I saw him, when he had 
 his back to the men pretending to stroke his horse's neck, 
 take Miss Blair's picture out and look at it, and his face 
 got sober as he looked. Some of the men were cutting 
 
WILD WORK. 313 
 
 watermelons. Waldon was standing by liis horse, looking 
 down the road we had just come over. Omar was telling 
 
 me not to go away after we got to S without seeing him 
 
 first, as he would have a letter for his wife he wanted to 
 trust to my care, when, suddenly, Howard cried out : ' Look ! 
 see all those men with guns ; what does that mean ? ' We 
 turned our heads and saw a posse of armed men on horse- 
 back turn the bend in the road and come galloping up to 
 us. Deyene cried out : * Mount and ride for your lives. ' 
 They ran for their horses and jumped into the saddles as 
 quick as thought, but their pursuers were upon them. 
 The foremost man cried out : ^ Surrender ! ' and the others 
 yelled the word after him. The mob began firing. Omar 
 turned in his saddle, with the blood running out of a wound 
 in his neck. 
 
 " 'Give me a gun ; I don't want to die like a dog,' he 
 cried. The bullets rained upon him, and he fell under the 
 horses' feet. Edgeville cried out : ' I'll die before I sur- 
 render.' He dashed ahead and reached the top of the 
 hill ; a bullet struck him in the head ; he leaped up out 
 of his saddle and fell to the ground dead. Devene was 
 killed at this same place. Wallace and Hollin and How- 
 ard got some distance away, but they were caught and taken 
 to Bard's store, a mile or so beyond, and there put an end 
 to. Howard was shot first. The old man trembled like a 
 leaf. He got down on his knees and begged them to spare 
 him. Wallace, too, prayed to be spared. He said : ' God is 
 my witness, I have never done a wrong to any man in this 
 country. I am only a magistrate. Witchell sent for me 
 here to superintend his business. He gave me a home in 
 his house and this office. I have held the office only a lit- 
 tle while. I have tried to do what was right.' 
 
 ''They shot both of them. I counted the places where 
 ninety buckshot had entered Howard's body. Mark Hollin 
 
31-4 WILD WORE. 
 
 stood and saw them shot. Wlien his turn came he said : 
 ' Let me say a prayer.' They suffered him to kneel down, 
 and he prayed in silence a little while. Then he rose up, 
 and said, calmly : * There is only one thing I ask of you ; 
 that is, for God's sake don't harm my wife and my little 
 child. Let them go away in safety. That is all.' 
 
 *^He was so cool and brave they stood with their re- 
 loaded guns in their hands as if they thought it almost a 
 pity to kill him. As they were going to shoot, a man 
 galloped up and cried out : ' A thousand dollars if you 
 will spare the prisoner's life ! ' They turned on him, and 
 he said : * I don't make the offer myself ; I do it for an- 
 other man. He's got a fall from his horse hack yonder, 
 and he's not able to come on. But he's got the money, 
 for I know him. He said he'd give a thousand dollars for 
 every life you spared, and I am only in time for one, I 
 see.' 
 
 ''Some cried 'Humbug !' and some 'Plank down your 
 money ; let's see the color of it ! ' and several called out 
 to Mark HoUin to run into the cotton-field, they'd give 
 him a chance for his life. But he stood still and said : 
 ' You have killed all my friends, now kill me. I will not 
 run for my life.' Well, they shot him. I went up and 
 looked at him. His face was as calm as if he had dropped 
 to fleep. I don't know what they did with the bodies ; I 
 went away. I felt sick and numbed, as if a bullet had 
 entered my own head. The looks of those dead men will 
 never get out of my mind. As I rode back and passed 
 where the others were lying, I saw one of the men taking 
 off Edgeville's watch and chain. His pocket-book was on 
 the ground open, and close to it was Miss Auzete's letter 
 and picture. I picked them up, and I've got them here in 
 my pocket. I'll give them to you to return to her. I saw 
 one man taking out the diamond stud-buttons from Mark 
 
WILD WORK. 315 
 
 Hollin's shirt — the same his little boy told me he had put 
 in. I couldn't help feeling awful bad about the wives and 
 children of the men, who were praying and hoping they 
 were safe, while they lay there dead. They deserved to be 
 punished, I know, but it looked like a bad day's work. Miss 
 Zoe."* 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Zoe had not once interrupted his recital. Horror had 
 held her mute. When at last she spoke her voice was 
 unnaturally calm. 
 
 '' You said the party of lynchers had a leader. Who 
 was he ? " 
 
 " They said he was a Texan. I don't remember his 
 name. They called him Captain— something." 
 
 " Was it— was it— Hirne ? " 
 
 " Something like that, I think. A man with long hair 
 and a keen eye ; rides like an Indian ; wore a hunting- 
 shirt and no coat. Do you know him ? " 
 
 "I — I believe I do," she articulated faintly. Her 
 hands were tightly locked, her features drawn and pale. 
 Henry Bronn looked at her with distress in his good-na- 
 tured face. 
 
 "I ought not to have told you this dreadful tale," he 
 said. "I see how it shocks you, and no wonder. Miss 
 Zoe, you don't blame me, do you ? " -^ 
 
 ^The circumstances of the pursuit and killing of these six office-holders 
 are given ahnost word for word as they were told me by one of the men 
 who accompanied the prisoners as a guard. The man who offered a thou- 
 sand dollars for every life the mob would spare was a Southerner. 
 
316 WILD WORK. 
 
 He put out his hand to touch hers. Involuntarily, she 
 shuddered and drew away. 
 
 *' Why did not you — why did not the guard defend tlie 
 men they were sent to protect ? " she asked. 
 
 '^ The pursuers swooped down upon us so sudden, and 
 went through their work so quick, we were all taken aback ; 
 I was at least ; I hardly had time to wonder what it meant 
 before it was all over. Then, too, the Captain of the guard 
 gave us no orders to defend the men. And you know they 
 were Radicals, and were found guilty of stirring up the 
 negroes to rob and murder us. Do you blame me, Miss 
 Zoe?" 
 
 '*0 Henry! do not ask me," she cried, lifting her 
 white face from her hands. " There has been terrible blame 
 somewhere. I can not reason about it. I am stunned. 
 But I hope — I believe that our people went into this blind- 
 fold. They were deceived. " 
 
 '^The wives of these men," she said, presenth^, '^have 
 they heard the fate of their husbands ? " 
 
 ''Not yet. Some one will be sent this evening to tell 
 them. All the money in the parish treasury could not hire 
 me to be the one." 
 
 Zoe turned away and walked to the end of the veranda. 
 The picture of the murdered men, the shrieking wives, and 
 frightened, weeping children seemed present before her, 
 seemed shaped in fire upon her brain. And there, too, 
 burned the words : ^' He was the leader in this dark work. 
 He was the chief of the assassins — he, the man you love." 
 
 She knew now by the sharp pang at her heart that she 
 did love him. It was for his sake she had so often disap- 
 pointed her betrothed. It was his image that had driven 
 Royal's from her breast — Royal, her kind, true lover. 
 
 She had been false to him for the sake of this man who 
 had proved so unworthy ; who had turned a deaf ear to her 
 
WILD WORK. 317 
 
 prayers, and gratified his passion for revenge in defiance of 
 her warning that the blood he would shed might be inno- 
 cent blood. 
 
 "He is a savage, a monomaniac !" cried Zoe. "His 
 courage is only an instinct for blood. Oh ! I hate him. I 
 must hate him ! " 
 
 She had controlled herself enough to ask Henry Bronn 
 to go in to supper, and see him seated at the table, talking 
 to Hugh. Then, no longer able to bear the restraint of 
 another's presence, she went out into the orchard. She 
 threw herself on the ground at the foot of the old apple- 
 tree and pressed her forehead to its vine-mufSed trunk, that 
 the dewy coolness might quench the burning in her brain 
 and enable her to think more calmly. 
 
 Before she rose to her feet again she had made her re- 
 solve. She would not see this man again, she would not 
 trust herself to look another time into his eyes, to listen to 
 his voice that had such power over her. This night she 
 would write to Royal. She had not replied to his last letter 
 in which he had urged her to name a day for the marriage 
 she had so long put off. She would write to-night and 
 name the day — an early day it must be. She must put the 
 irrevocable vow between herself and this man who had 
 gained such a hold upon her. When she was the wife of 
 Royal West — that amiable, law-abiding, honored gentleman 
 — she would forget this wandering barbarian. Her regard 
 for him was only a romantic fancy ; Roy had assured her 
 that it was — a wild seed, passion blown, that had dropped 
 into her heart's garden in some unguarded hour. 
 
 But ah ! what root it had taken ! What a pang it cost 
 to pluck it up ! 
 
 When she rose next morning after a restless night she 
 was completely unnerved. The terrible shock of the even- 
 ing before, coming upon her after the days of anxiety and 
 
318 WILD WORK. 
 
 nights of watching she had endured, had so unnerved her 
 that she found her hand shaking as she returned Hirne's 
 note-book to the pocket of his coat. If she was so weak, 
 could she trust herself to resist his importunities to see her 
 when he came ? 
 
 Parties of horsemen, coming from Cohatchie, crossed 
 the river from time to time. Some of these were the Tex- 
 ans who had been with Hirne, now returning to their 
 homes. She longed to ask them if their leader had really 
 been one of the assassins, but the dread of having her slen- 
 der hope swept away held her silent. The men appeared 
 discontented and gloomy, indisposed to talk. The fever of 
 excitement had died out. Their hasty rush to the rescue 
 of Cohatchie seemed to them a mere fool's errand. 
 
 At last Zoe heard one of them speak of Hirne. He had 
 stopped to get a drink of water, and, while he was still on 
 his horse at the gate, two other men rode up. 
 
 " Where is Hirne ? " asked the first comer. 
 
 '^ Don't know," was the response. *' Haven't laid eyes 
 on him since he and the others followed the fellows that had 
 the Rads in tow." 
 
 '* You didn't go with 'em then? Neither did I, and I 
 ain't sorry I kept out of that scrape. " 
 
 A dead weight of certainty crushed out the feeble hope 
 Zoe had cherished. To see him now would be unmixed 
 pain. Speak to him she would not. Yet, with an incon- 
 sistency that was followed by keen self -rebuke, she caught 
 herself looking among the horsemen for that leonine head 
 and proud, easy figure which would be seen above them 
 all. 
 
 " If I could go away before he came !" she said, with 
 tears of self-contempt springing to her eyes. 
 
 Chance favored her wish. Shortly after ten o'clock a 
 boat coming down the river blew the three-whistle signal 
 
WILD WORK. 319 
 
 for stopping as slie rounded the bend just above Vincent's 
 house. 
 
 ^* It is mother/' Mrs. Vincent called out, joyfully. *^ She 
 said she would come to nurse me as soon as father's rheu- 
 matism was better." 
 
 The boat stopped. A little roly-poly matron, with nu- 
 merous bags and bundles, was handed ashore, and soon Mrs. 
 Hugh and the new baby were hugged by a pair of fat, 
 motherly arms. 
 
 A sudden resolve came to Zoe. The boat had made fast 
 to a great ash tree, and the deck hands were running up 
 the steep bank to take on wood. Zoe said to her sister-in- 
 law : 
 
 ''Monde, you and Hugh are improving so fast now, and 
 you have your mother with you, I believe I will run away 
 for a little change. I'll go down with Captain Link as far 
 
 as N to see Mother Doremus. You know she is Mother 
 
 Superior at the Sacred Heart now. I have not seen her 
 since I left St. Joseph's." 
 
 "Go, by all means, my dear. You certainly need 
 change, and rest. Get yourself ready while Mandy packs 
 up the things you will need." 
 
 Before the last cord of wood had been piled on the 
 steamer's lower deck Zoe was on board for her trip to the 
 convent at N thirty miles below. 
 
 Scarcely was the smoke of the boat out of sight when 
 Captain Hirne rode down to the river at the ferry opposite 
 Vincent's house. He looked pale and grave ; there were 
 lines of bodily pain about his mouth, but his eye lighted as 
 he caught a glimpse of a lady's dress on the piazza. 
 
 "Are all safe and well ?" he asked of Tom Ludd, who 
 came in the flat to put him across. 
 
 "Yes, sir. Mr. Hugh is up; Miss Zoe is jes' gone 
 away." 
 
320 WILD WORK. 
 
 '^Gone!" The light died out of the Captain's face. 
 "Where did she go?" 
 
 " She went on de steamboat Mabel to de city, I b'lieve. 
 Heap uv her frien's live dere, an' de gen'leman she's goin' 
 to marry. Him and his sister come up here las' spring. 
 Mighty handsome, high-flyin' gen'leman, and rich as Crishus. 
 "Won't you go by de house, Cap'n, and have a glass er claret 
 wid Mars Hugh ? Mandy done carried your coat up dere." 
 
 " No, Tom, I am tired, and must get on. I hurt my leg 
 by a fall yesterday. Bring the coat out to the gate for me. 
 
 Tom brought the coat. 
 
 ^' God bless you, Cap'n Hirne ! Me and Mandy '11 never 
 forgit you," he said as his fingers closed over the half dol- 
 lars Hirne put into his hand. 
 
 "So that's all over," the Texan said to himself as he 
 rode away. "What else could I expect ? What is there in 
 me for a woman like her to care for ? But I would have 
 loved her. God ! how I love her ! " 
 
 A quiver passed over his face, and his eyes grew misty. 
 Then, setting his lips firmly, he shook his head backward 
 and put spurs to his horse. 
 
 " I'll shut down on this nonsense at once and for ever," 
 he muttered. 
 
 But the thunder-cloud then gathering in the west was 
 not gloomier than his face as he rode on and entered the 
 swamp. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 There is a legend of a man who wrested from a wizard 
 the magic word for invoking spirits. With it he sum- 
 moned a familiar imp and set it to doing menial work for 
 
WILD WORK. 321 
 
 him — bringing water for his cabbage-beds. But the cun- 
 ning wizard had withheld a portion of the spell. The man 
 had no power to dismiss the spirit he had called up ; so 
 water continued to be brought until not only was the cab- 
 bage-bed flooded, but the man and his house were swept 
 away. 
 
 Both Alver and Witchell had invoked the demon of 
 Lawlessness to assist them in their purposes, and the results 
 had gone beyond their intentions. The imp, once sum- 
 moned, would not down at their bidding. Witchell had 
 thought that by causing a few mischieyous, but not malig- 
 nant, acts to be done to the negroes he would create the im- 
 pression that Ku-klux were abroad in the parish, and obtain 
 the military force he wanted for the protection of himself 
 and his friends, and his ballots at the time of the election. 
 But his unlawful scheme had recoiled upon his head. His 
 intercepted instructions had suggested the very plot which 
 had eventuated in the death of his friends and the downfall 
 of his hopes of supremacy in the State. 
 
 Alver had summoned the fiend of Kiot to work his 
 purpose of freeing the parish from carpet-bag rule. He 
 found himself unable to control the evil force he had in- 
 voked. It had swept on until its fury was quenched in 
 blood. His female accomplice had foreseen this, and count- 
 ed upon it, when she said to him : '^Set the ball in motion 
 and leave its course to chance." 
 
 Yet even she seemed appalled at the horror of the cli- 
 max she had worked to attain. She was on horseback re- 
 turning from a ride when the news of the massacre reached 
 her. At the same moment her ears were filled with the 
 agonized screams of the bereaved women who had gathered 
 like frightened doves in Omar's cottage. Her face blanched ; 
 she wheeled her horse and rode at wild speed back from 
 the town. 
 
322 WILD WORK, 
 
 When the terrible tidings reached Witchell, it utterly 
 crushed him at first. Resentment was drowned in remorse- 
 ful anguish, and the stern, cold man sat for long minutes 
 -with bowed head and shaking frame. Omar's faithfulness, 
 Omar's simple-hearted devotion, rushed over him with the 
 keen sense of loss, and he groaned out : 
 
 " My brother, my brother ! would to God I had died in 
 your place ! " 
 
 He started up at last. His hands were clenched, his 
 features convulsed. He called down fearful curses on the 
 slayers of his friends. 
 
 '' They shall suffer for it, they shall suffer for it !" he 
 swore. '*The laggards at Washington can not now refuse 
 me the troops. With the cavalry at my back, I will hunt 
 down the last murderer among them and bring him to 
 punishment." 
 
 The news of the Cohatchie tragedy flashed over the 
 country from end to end. It roused the fury of the North, 
 the grief and indignation of the conservative South. The 
 Northern press denounced the people of the revolutionized 
 parish as a "pack of cold-blooded murderers." They for- 
 got that in small as in large revolutions the people are mere 
 instruments played upon by some designing leader — some 
 schemer, who has industriously collected all the explosive 
 material, laid the train, and fired it by a bold or cunning 
 stroke. Had those who sweepingly denounced the people 
 as murderers looked upon the little town a few days after 
 the bloody drama, they would have realized that men may 
 be led blindly into doing deeds that they look back upon 
 with horror when the short frenzy is over. An awful calm 
 succeeded the tumult. Men sat silent in their homes, or 
 gathered in the streets in gloomy groups. They sickened 
 with the fear that now stole upon them that they had 
 brought about the shedding of innocent blood. 
 
WILD WORK. 323 
 
 A more active fear quickened their pulses. They looked 
 daily for punishment at the hands of the Government. 
 They expected the long-talked-of cavalry to swoop down 
 upon them, capturing right and left. But days went by, 
 and no soldiers came, no arrests were made. What could 
 cause the delay ? 
 
 There had been indignation meetings at the North, 
 councils at Washington, an investigating committee ap- 
 pointed to inquire into all the particulars of the alarming 
 affair, but no active steps had been taken to punish the 
 rebellious parish, or to arrest the ringleader of the revo- 
 lution. 
 
 Did the Government, in spite of its outward show of 
 indignation, entertain a secret misgiving that the six office- 
 holders had deserved their fate ? Did they lend credence to 
 the widely-copied version of the tragedy which was published 
 in the " Cohatchie Times " (Alver's organ) ? In that account 
 it was elaborately shown that the six office-holders were 
 guilty of having incited the negroes to a bloody outrage, 
 and had deserved the doom which the excited mob had vis- 
 ited upon them, in defiance of the committee's magnani- 
 mous sentence that the men should only resign their offices 
 and leave the State. 
 
 No doubt the heads of the Administration had a secret 
 fear that much of this might be true. Conscious of hav- 
 ing, in so many instances, put vile men in power through 
 the South, they hesitated to punish an outrage that had 
 possibly been provoked. 
 
 Else why the long period of inaction that lulled the 
 parish into fancied security ? 
 
 Alver took advantage of the interval to forward his 
 cause. For days after the bloody culmination of his plot 
 he was gloomy and inactive. Then he roused ; he realized 
 that it needed promptness and energy to carry out the ad- 
 
32i WILD WORK. 
 
 Tantage his bold coup liad gained. Many things troubled 
 him. In pursuit of his ambitious scheme he had neglected 
 his legitimate business, and his interests had suffered. The 
 ten thousand dollars which were in the parish treasury at 
 the time of the killing of young Witchell, the tax-receiver, 
 he refused to touch, though he could have done so without 
 fear during the time that the parish was wholly under his 
 control. But he was not a mercenary man. He valued 
 money only as a means to attain power. But he had hon- 
 orable instincts still ; he resisted the temptation to appro- 
 priate some of the treasury funds to paying off the men 
 who had helped to bring about the late crisis, and who were 
 now clamorous to be rewarded. His haughty temper ill 
 brooked being under obligation to them, and with difficulty 
 he restrained himself when they pressed their claims for 
 office and money. He feared them more tlian he did the 
 coming of the troops. If disappointed, their rough natures 
 would grow unmanageable and everything would be bruited 
 abroad. 
 
 And Alver saw a prospect of making smooth water for 
 himself. He could not be held responsible for the action 
 of a miscellaneous mob, gathered from various quarters. 
 He could show that he had tried to calm this mob. He 
 ought not to suffer for its misdoing. He had never in- 
 tended, never foreseen, this tragic termination to his plot. 
 He had schemed to free his portion of the State from cor- 
 rupt, alien rule, and secure to the people representation by 
 their own citizens. It was a patriotic motive, and the end 
 justified the means he had used to attain it. So he rea- 
 soned to calm his conscience and lull his fears. 
 
 Chief among these thorns in his side was Cobb. An- 
 other wished Cobb out of the way as heartily as Alver did. 
 He had become a Damocles's sword over Floyd Reese. He 
 claimed her as his reward. He had twice served her pur- 
 
WILD WORK. 325 
 
 pose in the accomplisliment of her designs ; he had her 
 doubly in his power. She knew that, if exasperated, he was 
 reckless enough to betray her, though it should cost him 
 his life ; and so she strove to conciliate him, while she 
 loathed herself for doing so. Bad as she was, hard and 
 cruel, wearing without shame the diamond ring Cobb had 
 taken from the mutilated finger of one of the murdered 
 men, she was woman enough to shrink from giving herself 
 to the arms of a ruffian. But she feared him more and 
 more. He was growing impatient and jealous, and she was 
 forced to grant him interviews, in which she soothed and 
 coaxed him with all the art in her power. Some of these 
 interviews took place in Alver's parlor. Cobb was more 
 presentable now, since he had exchanged his shabby disguise 
 for a decent suit, and trimmed his hair and beard ; still that 
 rough figure, that sensual mouth and lowering brow, seemed 
 greatly out of place beside the beautiful face and superb 
 shape of the adventuress. Usually it was an-anged that 
 he should meet her when she was out riding. In some of 
 the wild bridle-paths that ran through deep forests, or along 
 steep-banked bayous, he would be waiting for her. Earely 
 they rode where there was a chance of meeting others ; but 
 one afternoon as they left an unfrequented ^^cattle-trail," 
 and came out into the riverside road, they saw a gentleman 
 approaching on horseback, riding beside a lady dressed in a 
 black habit with a black crape veil thrown back from her 
 very fair face. It was Mrs. Hollin going down to her plan- 
 tation, and her escort was Alver. He had shown every at- 
 tention to the widows of the dead officers, had called upon 
 them, expressed his deep regrets at the fatal extent to which 
 the excitement had gone, had persisted, in spite of cold 
 looks and words, in doing everything for their comfort and 
 rendering them every assistance in their business, until the 
 poor ladies, too troubled to arrange anything for themselves, 
 
026 WILD WORK 
 
 and too frightened to venture out, began to give him their 
 confidence, and believe he must be the one friend they had 
 in this stranger land, and that he had done all he could to 
 avert the fury of the mob from their ill-fated husbands. 
 
 The parties were embarrassed on encountering each 
 other — all but Mrs. Hollin. Her pale, pensive face did not 
 change, but Floyd blanched as she met Alver's eye. Cobb 
 put on his look of swaggering assurance, and Alver's face 
 darkened and his mouth curled with mingled displeasure 
 and disdain. When they had passed, Cobb, twirling his 
 long mustache, said : 
 
 '' My lordly Colonel that likes dirty work to be done 
 for him, but don't want it named before him, seems to be 
 flirting with the lemon-haired widow. That's rather fast, 
 ain't it ? He's up with that hump-backed chap — what's his 
 name — that had the king put out of the way and courted 
 the queen as she was following her husband's coffin. I've 
 seen it played. Well, the Colonel's his match, ain't he ? " 
 
 " No," said Floyd, haughtily. " He feels a sympathy 
 for those lonely ladies. He would do all in his power to 
 help them. You can not understand his feelings." 
 
 *^Not being a gentleman like him, you mean. Well, I 
 can see his motives. He hears breakers ahead. He thinks 
 the troops may come, and he wants to make fair weather 
 with these women before they get here. He makes out his 
 case to them. There's nobody to contradict it. The darkies 
 are afraid, and the women never see anybody except him. 
 He's the plausiblest scamp in creation. He's got you under 
 his thumb. You're miserable now, for fear he don't care 
 for you. You're jealous of that yellow-haired woman, and 
 you're holding back from me on his account. " 
 
 He had blundered on the truth, or he had watched 
 Floyd with such jealous scrutiny that he had discovered it. 
 She was made half frantic at times by the consciousness 
 
WILD WORK, 327 
 
 that she was losing hold upon Alver. Ever since those 
 two days in which he had secluded himself after the death 
 of the six ofi&cers he had sent off under guard, he had 
 seemed to feel a constraint in Floyd's presence. He an- 
 swered her abruptly, he kept his brow bent and moody in 
 her presence, and, with a woman's singular inconsistency, 
 she now became, for the first time, deeply in love with the 
 man she had before pretended to love for a purpose. His 
 coldness was gall and bitterness to her ; his slight shudder 
 when she placed her hand upon his brow made her feel that 
 he associated her always with the horror of that massacre. 
 
 The days went by. The widows of the dead officers went 
 back to their relatives, and still no movement had been 
 taken to punish the lawless action of the parish. "They 
 believe the published statement," thought Alver. " Or they 
 think it will be hard to disprove it. They will send their 
 investigating committee to New Orleans and make a show 
 of inquiry, but they will be afraid to stir deep, lest they 
 turn up more offensive matter. They have sneaking fears 
 that the statement of a plot to kill and rob may be true, 
 and, while they make a pretense of inquiry, they will take 
 no actual steps to search truly or to punish, for fear inves- 
 tigation may confirm the crime of their men. They will 
 not send the troops." 
 
 This reasoning had much truth to found itself upon, 
 and no action might have been taken but for one thing. 
 Those who believed that Marshall Witchell would abandon 
 his hold upon the parish, in the horror and dismay caused 
 by the death of his brother and his friends, did not know 
 the man. Grief held him paralyzed for a while; then his 
 will aroused, made stronger by the opposition against him, 
 made fierce by the revengeful thirst that now mixed with 
 his desire to succeed. These people — these murderers of 
 his brother — he said to himself, should feel his yoke as they 
 
32S WILD WORK. 
 
 had never felt it before. lie would show them that he 
 would succeed, and all who had conspired against his 
 friends should feel the full sting of punishment, if not di- 
 rectly at the hands of the Government, then indirectly 
 during his administration of office among them. 
 
 After persistent appeals he obtained the troops and 
 started with them up the river on one of the larger boats 
 now beginning to ply the rising stream. 
 
 They arrived without warning. The boat stopped at the 
 landing, and the uniformed men and horses came out in 
 numbers that struck dismay to the towns-people. Captain 
 Witchell was among them. Floyd chanced to see him be- 
 fore Alver did. His cold, determined eye filled her with 
 dread. She hurried to Alver and begged him to fly at 
 once. '^ If you had seen WitchelFs face you would know 
 that he means to sift this matter to the bottom, and to 
 punish every man connected with it." 
 
 " He has not that power," answered Alver. *' He may 
 arrest and try ; he has no proof to convict. I will not run 
 away. I will stand my ground. Let them put me in 
 prison, let them try me. They can not find me guilty. I 
 am not guilty of those men's deaths. I will nominate my 
 ticket in prison and win the day, if any fair election can be 
 held in the land." 
 
 ^' Alver, for heaven's sake leave at once. I ordered your 
 horse to be saddled as I came by the stable. Every one is 
 running away. I saw Cobb, Waldon, and Hayne on the 
 top of the hill with their horses at full speed. The troops 
 have begun arresting already. At least keep out of the 
 way until I can find out for y/ou the extent of the danger 
 that is to be feared. They say Witchell has every man 
 down on his black list." 
 
 "I know that. I know every man has been spotted. 
 They have had spies and detectives among us for a month." 
 
WILD WORK. 329 
 
 ^^ And you will not go ? " 
 
 " No ; to go will be giving up all we have been working 
 for. Strange that you advise it." 
 
 ^* True, for the moment I thought only of your safety," 
 the woman said, with tears springing into her eyes. *' Per- 
 haps it is best you should remain and be cool and fearless, 
 as you know how to be. Arrest and imprisonment will 
 endear you to the people ; and, when the trial comes, noth- 
 ing can be proved against you. Circumstances favor you. 
 You can show that it was right to arrest and dismiss the 
 officers. You can show proofs of their guilt strong enough 
 to authorize this ; with their killing you had nothing to do. 
 That was the work of a mob of strange men, over which 
 you had no — Oh — see ! they are coming." She broke off, 
 catching her breath as a party of cavalrymen with an officer 
 at their head rode up to the gate. 
 
 Alver received them with graceful urbanity. When ar- 
 rested he smilingly signified his willingness to accompany 
 them, and going in, followed by two soldiers, soothed his 
 wife, clasped her and his children in his arms, kissed them, 
 and said: '^Now I am ready." His papers had all been 
 secured and his business arrangements made beforehand in 
 fear of his being suddenly taken up. 
 
 Floyd came to the door as the three were passing out 
 along the corridor. Turning to the soldiers with her per- 
 suasive smile, she said : " Gentlemen, allow me a private 
 word with your prisoner while you stand guard here at the 
 door. You see, there is but one door to this room." 
 
 They bowed low, struck with admiration, such as all 
 men conceived for this fair woman. She laid her hand 
 upon Alver's and drew him into the room ; her fingers 
 closed upon his with a firm, cheering grasp. 
 
 *' Courage," she said. '*I will be outside to work for 
 you ; I will write and report to you, or I will come and tell 
 
330 WILD WORK. 
 
 you face to face how all is going. I will be permitted to 
 see you. IIow glad I am that you are not to be taken away ! 
 I heard them tell you so." 
 
 ** We are only to be confined in the Court House and 
 guarded, though I fear that we will be taken to New Orleans 
 to be tried there. I don't fear the issue, but I regret to 
 lose time from my affairs here. I shall nominate my ticket, 
 and hope to be out in time to carry the election. If I am 
 not, my friends must work for our cause. I know that you 
 will, my brave heart. Keep a watch upon Cobb and Yent ; 
 they may turn traitors. Keep them silent by frightening 
 or coaxing, as you think best. Don't expose yourself to 
 danger or comment, and do not forget that my hopes are, 
 in a great measure, in your hands." 
 
 He had not spoken so kindly to her in weeks. But now 
 her face was close to his, her eyes wet, her mouth tremu- 
 lous. She looked womanly. He touched her cheek with 
 his hand ; a warm tear fell upon it. He shuddered ; the 
 thought of warm, dropping blood came into his mind. 
 
 He hastily unloosed her hands from their hold of him, 
 saying : *' I must not tax their patience ; good-by," and 
 just touching his lips to her forehead, he rejoined the wait- 
 ing guard. 
 
 '^He is beginning to hate me," she cried to herself. 
 '* It was for him I did it, and he hates me for it." 
 
 This was part of her punishment. The man she had 
 schemed and sinned for turned from her with a feeling of 
 repulsion. He was not of her moral caliber. If thirst for 
 power, and a fierce hatred of Eadical rule, and a woman's 
 influence, had made him do a wrong, they had not debased 
 him. His remorse for the terrible issue of the excitement 
 in Cohatchie was none the less keen, that its working was 
 hid in his own heart. It was now pride and unrest that 
 urged him on to accomi^lish his purpose. But for these 
 
WILD WORK. 331 
 
 lie would have thrown up the game that had cost him so 
 many sleepless nights. 
 
 Fifteen minutes later saw Alver a prisoner, with several 
 others, in the handsome Court House that was Cohatchie's 
 pride — a prisoner, hut unshackled, allowed the freedom of 
 the room, and permitted to receive and converse with his 
 friends. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The work of arresting went vigorously on. Day and 
 night parties of cavalry, with negroes to pilot them, scoured 
 the country, surrounded houses without warning, and 
 searched them from top to bottom. The Court House 
 became like a hotel, so numerous were its inmates, while 
 many, to escape capture, had taken refuge in flight. Young 
 boys and gray-haired men fled the country in haste, or hid 
 in the miasmatic swamps and thick woods, and fought 
 musquitoes and lived by fishing and hunting, together with 
 such food as their friends could manage to convey to them. 
 Sometimes their hiding-places would be betrayed by negroes, 
 and the ubiquitous cavalry would sweep down upon them 
 in a hot chase across the country, their superior knowledge 
 of the woods and their more dashing horsemanship usually 
 enabling the pursued to escape. 
 
 The hot days were over ; the Indian summer wrapped 
 the land in dreamy, colorful beauty. Zoe's wedding-day 
 was near. Royal's sister, Kate, was with her — an affec- 
 tionate, lively girl. Zoe had put aside the cloud that had 
 so long hung between her and her betrothed. It was a 
 mist of romance, she said to herself ; the breath of common 
 sense must blow it aside. She went dutifully about her 
 daily work ; she schooled herself into thinking cheerfully 
 15 
 
332 ^ILD WORK. 
 
 of her marriage with Koyal. He was to come on the next 
 boat, and preparations were made for a quiet wedding. 
 Quiet it must necessarily be, since society here was wofully 
 broken up, hardly a male member being left in any of the 
 households in Cohatchie, or for miles along the river, above 
 and below the town. The men had been captured from 
 time to time by the troops and confined in the strongly 
 guarded walls of the Court House. A few nights before, 
 an old gentleman, neighbor to the Vincents, had had his 
 house surrounded at midnight by the cavalry. He had 
 managed to get out and crawl into the garden, where he 
 singularly escaped discovery. The garden was tramped 
 from end to end, but the old gentleman, squatting close 
 among his vegetables, was overlooked, or his bald white poll 
 was taken for a cabbage-head. 
 
 Another house in sight of the Vincent place was sur- 
 rounded the same night — a large, dark, old building which 
 a yellow-fever scourge had left with one solitary occupant — 
 a young man. Leaping from the window when he was 
 waked by the clank of cavalry spurs outside his door, he 
 found himself encircled with bayonets, and laughing reck- 
 lessly and saying, '' Why couldn't you let a fellow finish 
 his morning nap ?" he had given himself up. Two nights 
 afterward some young men, who were in hiding, rode from 
 their place of concealment through the fields, avoiding the 
 roads and negro quarters, and came to see Zoe and Miss 
 West. Zoe, listening anxiously at the window, heard the 
 muffled sound of oars a few hours after their arrival, and 
 gave the alarm in time for the young visitors to make good 
 their escape. Fifteen minutes afterward a cordon of Fed- 
 eral cavalry was drawn up around the house in the moon- 
 light, and the building was thoroughly overhauled. All 
 who had carried arms during the riot were hunted down, 
 the negroes being the chief informants. 
 
WILD WORK. 333 
 
 Tom Ludd was expatiating to Zoe on tlie '^meddlesome- 
 ness of niggers" in this particular one afternoon as she 
 stood on the bank, watching the puffs of smoke ascending 
 from a steamer coming up the river, but still miles below, 
 around the bends of the crooked stream. She knew that 
 Eoyal West was on the boat — the man that in two days was 
 to be her husband, and she tried to believe that the flutter 
 at her heart was joy. Kate was busy crimping her fair 
 hair, for Eoy's "best man," whom he was to bring with 
 him, was her favorite admirer. Tom had been drawing in 
 Mandy's *'fish line," with a good-sized "cat" attached, 
 and now, with his prize at his feet, stood where he had 
 stopped on the bank near Zoe. With his eyes on the curls 
 of smoke staining the horizon, he pronounced the approach- 
 ing boat to be *'de ole Bartable' comin' 'round Blair's 
 Bend." 
 
 " Dere'll be more soljers on her, I hearn," he said, not 
 quite able to hide the pride he felt in the fact. '*De 
 calv'ry cotch anuther man below here yisterday. I wuz 
 down dat way huntin' my boss and I seed 'em take him, 
 and I wuz mity sorry to see who it was. I'd a warned Mm 
 ef I'd had a chance, ef dey had tuck my vote away fur 
 doin' it, for he wuz dat Cap'n what spared my life de time 
 er de foolishness las' summer. 'Twas Oap'n — Cap'n Hirne. 
 You 'member him. Miss Zoe." 
 
 ** Remember him ! " Zoe's white face bore witness that 
 she did. 
 
 '" Hirne captured ! How came he here ? " she controlled 
 herself to say. 
 
 ''I can't tell you about dat. He was comin' from 
 Texas, maybe ; was on dat route when he was tuck. He 
 staid all night somewhere de night before, and some 
 smart nigger reformed upon him to de calv'ry. Dey said 
 he had a big han' in de 'sturbance, and de soljers was mity 
 
334 WILD WORK. 
 
 glad to git him. I got a chance to speak a word wid him, 
 and he axed straight about you, Miss Zoe. * Is she well ? ' 
 he said, and den, * Is she married ? ' and I tell him, * Not 
 yet. De weddin' will be performed next Thursday night ; 
 de cake done made and all.' He look mity down in de 
 mouth, and no wonder. 'Tain't no fun to hear tell of wed- 
 din's and sich when you're in a scrape like he is." 
 
 And after hearing this, Zoe had to go and put on smiles 
 and pretty attire to welcome the lover who came later. So 
 pale was she that Kate insisted on touching her cheeks 
 with rouge. The black brows looked like arches of jet 
 on her ivory forehead, and the eyes beneath dropped their 
 long lashes when Eoy tried to read the meanings they 
 held. 
 
 Winter Lareau, Royal's friend who had come to be 
 "best man" at the wedding, had his eyes seemingly filled 
 by the blonde beauty of Kate West — a fairy in pale blue, 
 with moonlight-colored hair and a wild-rose complexion ; 
 so the engaged pair were left to themselves. How hard Zoe 
 struggled to hide all she felt, and to seem interested in Roy's 
 plans and happy in his praises ! She succeeded as only a 
 woman with tact and self-control could do. If Roy noted 
 any lack of her usual variety and sprightliness, the plea of 
 headache explained and excused it. But she was glad to 
 take refuge in music, and she sat down to the cottage piano 
 and played fragments of favorite- compositions and sang 
 snatches of songs to the delight of Royal, who liked music 
 that was not too " artistic," and loved the simple melody 
 of Zoe's songs. After all, though, the playing was not a 
 wise move. The music brought its own atmosphere of 
 romance and tenderness that was dangerous to one who 
 had set bounds upon her emotions, and said, '' Thou shalt 
 not overleap them." Half unconsciously, she played the 
 prelude to an air to which she had set Ilirne's little song, 
 
WILD WORK. 335 
 
 '*"We met to part for ever." Then giving herself up to the 
 spell of the moment, she sang the piece to the end. When 
 she reached the last two lines a voice caught up air and 
 "vvords — a voice so low it seemed an echo — and sang with 
 her : 
 
 " In some fair Aideon we shall meet 
 Who have parted here for ever." 
 
 She turned around, pale, as if she expected to see a ghost. 
 
 '* Was it you that sang ? " she asked Koyal. 
 
 " No ; I never heard those words before. It was some 
 one outside. Hugh, perhaps," he said, wondering at the 
 agitation of her looks. " You don't think it was the 
 spirits ? " 
 
 "Certainly not, unless you have brought them," she 
 laughed, recovering her self-possession. "It was likely 
 Hugh ; he has heard me sing the piece before ; or one of 
 the negroes ; they are wonderful at catching up anything 
 musical." 
 
 But she was not candid in what she said ; she walked 
 presently to the back window, through which the sounds 
 had seemed to come, and looked out. She saw no one, but 
 the thick foliage of the cedar-trees close by rustled, though 
 there was no wind. She was about to lean out and whisper 
 a name into the dusk, when Eoyal, who was turning over 
 music at a stand, called to her from the other end of the 
 room. 
 
 "Ah ! Zoe, here is that pretty little duet, * Under the 
 Stars,' we used to sing together. Come, let us sing it 
 now." 
 
 She answered quickly : 
 
 " It has been so long since I tried it I have forgotten 
 it ; but Kate sings it, and your voices blend well together. 
 I'll call her over and ask her to sing it with you." 
 
336 WILD WORK, 
 
 Kate put down the pretty fancy work she had been 
 trifling over and came to the piano, at which Royal sat 
 down to play the accompaniment. Young Lareau stood 
 by them to turn the leaves of the music. After the first 
 few bars of the song, Zoe quitted her stand by the piano 
 and went to the window at the back part of the room. 
 Dropping the curtain behind her, she leaned out, listened, 
 and looked. Nothing out there but the trees, motionless in 
 the breezeless night, the chirp of insects, and, farther back, 
 the white cotton-fields lying under the moonlight. She 
 turned off with a sigh, and was leaving the window, when 
 she again heard a rustling outside. Once more she looked ; 
 she suppressed a cry that rose almost to her lips. There 
 in the dim light, just below the window, stood Hirne. 
 Startled, she stretched out her hand, half believing it was 
 an illusion. He caught it in his firm clasp and pressed it 
 to his lips. Drawing it hastily away, slie found voice to 
 say low : 
 
 "I thought you were a prisoner ?" 
 
 *^I was. I got away from them. They followed me 
 into the swamp, and I eluded them there. They went back 
 without their game." 
 
 "Why did you not go on and put youself out of the 
 reach of danger ? Wliy are you here, where they may 
 come upon you at any moment ? " 
 
 "I am here to see you ; I came back to this place to see 
 you. I have no intention of being balked of my purpose." 
 
 " But you will go now ? " 
 
 " Not until I have had one last interview with you." 
 
 '*But every moment is full of danger. The negroes 
 may see you and inform against you." 
 
 " I know it ; still I must see you." 
 
 *^ Come in then. Come to the back door through the 
 shrubbery. The servants will not be so ajit to see you." 
 
WILD WORK. 337 
 
 "No, I will not go in. I know who is there. Do 3'ou 
 think I want to meet him 9 Do you think I could bear to 
 see him look at you as if you were his already ? No. In 
 a little while he will have you all to himself. All I ask of 
 you before that time comes is a few moments of your so- 
 ciety — a little while to look at you, and listen to you, and 
 feel you near me. Then I will go away and you shall never 
 hear of me again. But I will not go now until you have 
 granted me this much." 
 
 " How can I ? It is very dangerous for you to be here. 
 Parties of cavalry cross nearly every night and patrol the 
 river up and down." 
 
 " I have my horse fastened at the foot of the lane there 
 in a clump of bushes, just beyond the great pecan-tree. 
 Will you come to that tree to-night ? There is something 
 I must say to you. Will you come and tell me good-by 
 for ever ? " 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 "I shall wait there until daylight, unless you come." 
 
 His voice was determined. She knew he would do as he 
 said, and she feared he would be captured and that it would 
 go hard with him, for she believed that he had been that 
 "long-haired, keen-eyed Texan" who led the mob of 
 lynchers. Believing it, however, she still found it hard to 
 resist his pleading for a last interview, in which he had 
 something to say to her. It might be important she should 
 hear the something, she reasoned, and it was right to try and 
 save him from the consequences of his own imprudence in 
 exposing himself to capture on her account. It was her duty. 
 
 The last verse of the song was being sung. She must 
 speak before the notes that had drowned their low talk 
 should cease. 
 
 " I will come," she said, and stepped out from behind 
 the curtain as Eoyal rose from the piano. 
 
338 WILD WORK. 
 
 "Koyis in splendid voice," cried Kate. ''Don't yon 
 think so, Zoe ? Why, what is the matter ? You look almost 
 ready to cry. Does music affect you so ? I thought you 
 more matter-of-fact." 
 
 " 'I am never merry when I hear sweet music.'" 
 ''Bringing in Shakespeare to excuse yourself. Little 
 sentimentalist ! I suppose all people in love are sentimen- 
 tal, though. Head grows soft to sympathize with heart ; is 
 that not so, Mr. Lareau ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 She had promised rashly. She said so to herself as she 
 stood at the window of her room and looked obliquely 
 across the moonlighted field to the great pecan-tree that 
 guarded the entrance of the lane. Should she go there to- 
 night to see this man for the last time — this man she had 
 been trying so long to put out of her heart ? 
 
 And, after all, she had promised to meet him to-night — 
 the night before her marriage. It was very wrong. She 
 hesitated to go in spite of her promise. She lingered now, 
 when at last she could go unobserved. She had left 
 Kate asleep, her head with its golden plaits and crimps ly- 
 ing on the laced pillow, her eyes having closed while she 
 was still talking of Winter Lareau. Royal and his friend 
 were taking their night-cap smoke at the window below. 
 The odor of the cigars and the murmur of the men's talk 
 floated up to her where she sat. Presently Royal threw 
 his half-smoked cigar out among the bushes, hummed a 
 snatch from "La Duchesse," and said : "Well, 'get thee 
 to bed,' as my Lady Macbeth has it." 
 
 " This place is awfully lonesome. I wonder how Zoe 
 
WILD WORK. 339 
 
 has endured it so long. It is not strange she looks a little 
 sad. I shall take her straight to Saratoga. The waters 
 will do her good, though the season is nearly oyer. She 
 needs brightening up, dear little girl." 
 
 They moved from the window, but directly Zoe heard 
 Eoy's mellow laugh. 
 
 " How happy he is !" she thought, " while I — well, when 
 I am married it will be better. Surely this restless aching 
 will leave me. I .will forget this man whom fate has 
 strangely mixed up with my life. It was wrong to promise 
 to meet him to-night. But how could I help it ? He was 
 looking at me so ; I was afraid he would grow excited and 
 Royal would hear him, and there might be a difficulty be- 
 tween them. He is so reckless ; he will certainly expose 
 himself to capture, unless I see him and persuade him to go 
 away. I am afraid that he has already been seen by some 
 of the negroes, they are always slipping about, and that the 
 troops will be over to-night after him." 
 
 These thoughts ran through her mind as she hastily put 
 on a dark-brown dress and knotted a veil of the same color 
 about her head. 
 
 She looked at her watch as she was leaving the room ; 
 it was eleven o'clock. Noiselessly she quitted the house by 
 the back door, opened the gate of the rear yard, and hurried 
 down into the little path that ran along outside the paling 
 which divided the garden from the cotton-field. This 
 path led past the stables to a lane between two fields. She 
 stood, hesitating, looking down the lane that led to the 
 swamp — the lane at whose foot was the pecan-tree — a 
 black blot on the moonlight. She dreaded that negroes 
 might be awake, who would see and follow her and discover 
 Hirne. It was a time of suspicion and danger, and the 
 troops had their dusky spies everywhere. Getting on the 
 shadow side of the lane, she walked resolutely on. It was 
 
340 WILD WORK. 
 
 not more than four hundred yards to the pecan-tree, but it 
 seemed a full mile to the girl who walked the distance with 
 rapid steps, her heart beating wildly with conflicting feel- 
 ings — fear and self-reproach, and agitation at meeting Hirne 
 again. She was too breathless to speak when at last she 
 stopped within the deep circle of shade cast by the wide, 
 down-sweeping limbs of the pecan-tree. From its great 
 trunk Hirne stepped out, and, taking her hand, said : 
 *^ You have come. It was kind of you. I thank you." 
 Then, seeing her agitation, he said, hurriedly : 
 **Have I asked too much ? You are trembling like a 
 lamb under the butcher's knife. Do not be afraid to be 
 alone with me. I would not harm one hair of your dear 
 head. I will not even hold this little hand. I will keep 
 my tongue from uttering one tender word — if I can. But 
 you must not be too hard on me if I say a word that it is 
 not right to address to another man's bride ; I am not used 
 to schooling myself ; I am but a barbarian, you know, and 
 you must pardon any lack of etiquette. God knows I mean 
 no lack of respect — of reverence even. You are to me as a 
 saint — as the Virgin Mother herself, looking down pitying- 
 ly from her shrine. I could be content to think of you so, 
 to look up to you in my thoughts and never ask you to 
 come down to me, but I am not content to see another em- 
 brace my saint. The thought that you are going to marry 
 fills me with gall and bitterness." 
 
 There was no answer Zoe could make to this, and pres- 
 ently he went on. 
 
 "Do you know, though, that you gave me a faint hope 
 that you might not marry him after all — a faint, half hope 
 that you might care for — me ? I know now that it was 
 not so, and it was nothing you said, but that night on the 
 porch you let me say wild things, tender things, to you 
 without rebuke. You let me hold your hand for a sweet 
 
WILD WORK. 341 
 
 moment and sit near you, and — yes, your tones and your 
 looks were kinder than you would have used, my sweet, had 
 you known that you were throwing out mocking straws to 
 a drowning man. It was a bitter disappointment when I 
 came back and found you gone, and not a line, not a mes- 
 sage for me." 
 
 ''Did I think you would have cared for line or message 
 when you had shown such disregard of my entreaties, my 
 prayers ? " 
 
 " Entreaties ? prayers ? What do you mean ?" 
 
 *^Did I not implore you to have nothing to do with the 
 killing of those men ? " 
 
 '* You did, and your request was sacred. I had nothing 
 to do with the killing of the officers." 
 
 " You had not ? You were not that Texas captain that 
 headed the lynchers ? " 
 
 '' I was not. It was another man, resembling me only 
 in the long hair and beard, and in the horse he rode. 
 He was called Captain Dick ; who he really was I can not 
 find out. Doubtless some fellow, though, who, like me, 
 has had wrongs enough to make him desperate." 
 
 "And you had nothing to do with the killing of the 
 
 men 
 
 V" 
 
 " I was not on the spot. I even did what I could to 
 prevent bloodshed. I had no idea of taking a hand in any 
 violence when I crossed the river that night, because you 
 had said what you did, though, let me tell you, Nolan de- 
 nied that what he told you was true. He said he only told 
 it to make himself important in your eyes." 
 
 *'He said that to you ? Why, he made the statement 
 to me as a confession when he thought he would die from 
 the cut on his head." 
 
 ''He said he was delirious when he first declared he 
 had been hired to create a row, and that afterward he 
 
312 WILD WORK. 
 
 deceived you purposely. I came back to the house that 
 night to tell you this, and to see if it altered your views as 
 to what should be done to the officers, but you had retired. 
 I did not see you. I went on to Cohatchie to see what they 
 were doing. On the way I cross-questioned the man Cobb. 
 He was drinking freely, and told more than he would other- 
 wise have done. I thought from his talk there might be a 
 plot to overthrow the Radicals, and that, if there was any 
 dark work in it, he was the agent, if not the planner. When 
 the officers were sent away under guard, I determined to 
 follow, and, if possible, prevent violence. I told my inten- 
 tion to several of my friends, and they said they were with 
 me, and we started together. A mile or so out of town we 
 came up with a party who seemed to come together by some 
 preconcerted plan. Men rode up and joined them from 
 time to time, and no questions were asked. They were, 
 most of them, men I did not know. Cobb was among 
 them. He shunned me, and tried to muffle up his face. 
 He had found out from my talk that I did not favor lynch- 
 ing the men. "We rode on, until my horse, that had got a 
 shoe loose and was going fast down a hill, fell and hurt 
 liimself and me. I was compelled to stop by the way, but 
 two of my friends went on, and I charged them to keep our 
 boys from having any hand in the killing that I was afraid 
 was going to be." 
 
 Zoe was silent. '* Oh ! if I had only known this before ! " 
 she was thinking. Presently she said : 
 
 " We heard that a man, who had been prevented from 
 going on by a fall, sent a message to the lynchers, offering a 
 thousand dollars for every man who should be spared. Was 
 it you who made that offer ? " 
 
 ** It was, and I meant it, and was sorry it came too late. 
 I offered the reward for your sake, because you had begged 
 to have these men spared." 
 
WILD WORK. 343 
 
 " I thank you. Oh ! I might have known you would 
 never have had a hand in so bloody a deed." 
 
 "Yes, I might. I can't take praise that is not mine. 
 There were men among those lynchers as good as I am — 
 better, perhaps. I never did kill a defenseless man, but I 
 might have felt as they had I lived in this parish and 
 been saddled so long by extortioners, and had at last been 
 led to believe I was about to be victimized by them and 
 their negro tools." 
 
 **You can not tell me that you would have killed 
 them?" 
 
 ** Well, no ; I could not have taken the life of an un- 
 armed man. As for one begging me to spare him, kneel- 
 ing, praying — But I don't like to remember that day — and 
 it was not to listen to such gloomy talk I asked you to come 
 here to-night. But I seem always doomed to say and do 
 things to make you think me a blood-thirsty monster, while 
 this moment, and for months — ever since I knew you — the 
 better spirit within me has been longing for peace ; I told 
 you so once, and I told you that only your love could save 
 me. That was a piece of mad presumption ; but I am bet- 
 ter for having known you, and I want to promise you, my 
 good angel, this night, that I will renounce the wild life 
 you found fault with. I will settle down in a quiet home 
 I have, with the two boys I told you I was educating, and 
 another orphan — the little daughter of the brother officer's 
 widow I also spoke to you of. The mother died last month, 
 and the little girl, ten years old, is my ward. I shall try 
 to make a home for these three, and to make them happy. 
 Does this please you ? " 
 
 Emotion made Zoe's voice husky. 
 
 " It does," she said. " It pleases me best of all because 
 in trying to make those orphans happy you will become 
 happy yourself. Here is my hand ; you have given me your 
 
344 WILD WORK. 
 
 promise, and I pledge you my sympathy, my best wishes, 
 my prayers for your happiness. " 
 
 "Happiness!" he echoed, bitterly. *^I hope for no 
 happiness." Then, recovering himself, he thanked her 
 gently. 
 
 "And you," he said, "no need to wish you happiness. 
 The good and beautiful can not but be happy. •Yet griefs 
 may come. I wish I could bear all yours for you. He is 
 blest who has the privilege of sharing them. If Fate had 
 given me that privilege — do not draw your hand away, 
 sweetest. I only hold it because we are parting — saying 
 good-by for ever. I have seen you, you have spoken kindly 
 to me, and now it is time — " 
 
 "Hush!" cried Zoe, starting. "Do you hear that 
 noise?" 
 
 "Where? what noise?" 
 
 "The tramp of horses, and a man's voice calling. It 
 came from the river. Oh ! what if the cavalry have crossed 
 and are searching for you ? " 
 
 They listened in breathless silence for a moment, strain- 
 ing their eyes in the direction of the river. 
 
 "Don't be frightened for me," he said low. "I have 
 my horse here ready to spring upon him at an instant's 
 warning, and there is the swamp behind us. They would 
 not have caught me yesterday had I been upon my good 
 Mort. I had dismounted to drink, and they surprised me." 
 
 " How was it that you got away ? " 
 
 " The soldiers were in a cane patch stealing sugar-cane — 
 all but one, who was guarding me. "When he was not look- 
 ing I gave him the slip and was off in a flash. He shouted 
 to his comrades ; but before they came and mounted I was 
 in the woods. There Mort and I were at home. They 
 will not penetrate far in the swamp, being afraid of an am- 
 bush." 
 
WILD WORK 345 
 
 " If they should arrest you, you could prove that you 
 had no part in the murders ? You would he in no danger ? " 
 
 ''Not if the trial was conducted with any fairness — 
 unless something else came up, my old Alabama scrape, for 
 instance. They might find I never paid that debt. I took 
 French leave of the Dry Tortugas, remember. A trial 
 would unearth all those old offences against this delectable 
 Government." 
 
 '' It would ; I never thought of that. Oh ! how impru- 
 dent it was for you to come here, knowing the troops were 
 scouring the country ! " 
 
 " I wanted to see you once more." 
 
 ^J Then go — go, my friend. Promise to leave here this 
 very night. Eeturn to Texas. Promise me." 
 
 *'I will. Do not agitate yourself on my account. If 
 they turned that lane this moment I could escape — but 
 you I" he broke off, struck by a sudden and startling 
 thought. " You are here ! If they come they must not 
 find you here alone. And to find you with me ! Oh ! it 
 is you who run the worst risk to-night. And I have ex- 
 posed you to it ! I thought only of seeing you again. I 
 did not think once of the danger to you. I was selfishly 
 thoughtless. Forgive me, and go at once. Good-by, my 
 dearest ; my good angel ; God bless you ! " 
 
 He dropped the hand he had pressed in his, and she 
 turned to leave him. 
 
 Suddenly, before she could get beyond the circle of deep 
 shadow, he caught her and drew her back. 
 
 "Look!" he whispered, hoarsely. ''The cavalry! 
 They are coming ! " 
 
 There in the moonlight, at the head of the lane, she 
 saw a party of horsemen riding down upon them. She ut- 
 tered a faint cry of dismay ; then she said, firmly : 
 
 " Lose no time ; mount your horse ; go ! go I " 
 
346 WILD WORK. 
 
 " And leave you ? Never ! " 
 
 " They will not arrest we." 
 
 " You will be exposed to their insults, their coarse jests, 
 their rough questions and comments. Curses on my self- 
 ishness for having brought this upon you ! " 
 
 ** Think of yourself. Never mind me. I am not afraid 
 to face them ; or I can hide." 
 
 *^ You can not. They will search everywhere." 
 
 Indeed, there was little place for concealment. The 
 strip of land had once been partially cleared. The large 
 trees were gone. There were clumps of bushes here and 
 there. The fence of either field was very high, and with- 
 in, the corn, stripped of its leaf-blades, afforded little.con- 
 cealment. Then the moon was shining brilliantly, and 
 the fence and fields were in full view of the approaching 
 soldiers. A noise to the right turned Hirne's eye in that 
 direction. There, just coming into sight around a curve 
 in the rear fence, was another party of soldiers, and it was 
 probable that yet another detachment was approaching 
 around the lower field. They had divided to make more 
 sure of finding their prey. Hirne turned quickly to the 
 trembling girl. 
 
 '* There is but one way," he said, in a firm whisper. 
 " I can not leave you here alone ; they must not find you 
 here with me ; they will not follow us far in the swamp. 
 Come." 
 
 His horse — a fine black, that had answered his whistle 
 a moment ago with a low neigh — stood waiting for him, his 
 ears quivering with eagerness. As Hirne spoke he lifted 
 Zoe to a seat upon the powerful animal. He sprang into 
 the saddle before her, and at a word and a touch of the 
 spur the horse bounded off. It was but a few leaps to the 
 deep shadow of the swamp, but the horsemen on the right 
 saw him, and with a loud shout they gave chase. He felt 
 
WILD WOEK. 
 
 347 
 
 a tremor run through the arm of the girl who clung to 
 him ; he dreaded that she would swoon. 
 
 '' Don't be frightened/' he said, as they iSew on. '' They 
 will soon quit the pursuit ; they are afraid of an ambush. 
 Bend your head, that the limbs may not strike you." 
 
 On they rushed through the silent woods. There was 
 no underbrush, only the great trees and their clasping 
 vines. The horse, well used to the woods, avoided these 
 without slackening the long, sweeping gallop which kept 
 the pursuers out of sight.^ They came to a low, marshy 
 place— the bed of a dried-iip bayou, now a mass of mud, 
 mantled with deceptive green mold. 
 
 "Here's something that will stop them if I don't mis- 
 take," cried Hirne. '^This will bog a bird— I found out 
 to-day — everywhere but at one spot." 
 
 He turned his horse suddenly to the right, rode down 
 the boggy ravine a few rods, and then crossed it on a kind 
 of causeway formed of *^ chunks" and logs, but so hid- 
 den by water-grass that it was not easily perceived even in 
 the light of day. He kept on in his changed direction, 
 the horse holding a steady course, as though he had a 
 certain goal in view. Presently they heard cries behind 
 them. Hirne checked his horse and listened. Loud ex- 
 clamations, oaths, expressive of anger and disgust, came 
 to their ears. 
 
 " They are floundering in a bog equal to that of Kil- 
 larney," Hirne said, with his low laugh. 
 
 " They won't pass that Eubicon to-night, but we will 
 ride on farther to make sure. I know of a hiding-place 
 they'll not be apt to find." 
 
 On they went. An opening in the WQods appeared before 
 them : a waste field, its fence nearly gone, a deserted log- 
 cabin, half hid by weeds, standing lonely and black-looking 
 upon the bank of the bayou which formed the farther boun- 
 
3^8 ^-^^^ WORK. 
 
 dary of the field. Riding across the field, Hirne drew rein 
 on the steep bank of bayou Vincey. 
 
 " They would never venture to cross this fierce cur- 
 rent," he said. '' I should not like to swim it myself ; but 
 if they come here they will think I have crossed, for, see, 
 here underneath the bank, where these two great trees have 
 fallen into the bayou and their torn-up roots are overrun 
 by a mass of wild vines, there is a natural hiding-place— a 
 kind of cave hollowed out in the bank by the current at 
 high water and roofed over by the tree-roots, the matted 
 yines, and the earth together. A man and a horse can ride 
 in under those hanging vines and be securely hid. I will 
 ride a little way down the bank so that the horse can not 
 be seen by any one coming, and we will wait and listen. 
 If they come, we will conceal ourselves under the ledge ; 
 but I imagine they will have enough to do to get out of 
 the bog, and will be glad to go back empty-handed." 
 
 Moments passed while they waited anxiously, but no 
 sound broke the silence save the ripple of the bayou and 
 the swish of the willows that dipped in the stream. 
 
 Hirne turned his horse and rode up the bank again, 
 saying : 
 
 ** I am sure they have given up the chase and gone back, 
 but I think it is safer to wait awhile before we return, and 
 give them time to cross the river." 
 
 He rode up to the deserted cabin. It was overgrown 
 with gourd-vines and wild morning-glories ; a single old 
 ash-tree stood guard over it ; in the yard stray marigolds 
 and bunches of catnip struggled with weeds and bushes. 
 
 "I staid here last night," said Hirne. ''The owls 
 hooted me to sleep. As I broiled my dried-beef supper on 
 the moldy hearth the lizards woke and peeped at me cu- 
 riously from the cracks, and the bats whizzed around me 
 like insulted witches." 
 
WILD WORK. 319 
 
 Zoe knew the place well. She had gathered dewberries 
 in the waste field last spring. It was a place cleared and 
 cultivated, but desei-ted when the overflow of back-lands of 
 a year or two ago had driven the settlers in the swamps 
 from their inundated homes. 
 
 Hirne had spoken gayly to reassure Zoe ; it had pained 
 him so to hear the loud beating of her heart, and to feel 
 how she trembled. 
 
 ^' Will you let me help you down, and rest here a mo- 
 ment on the porch ? " he asked. 
 
 She faintly assented, and he lifted her gently to the 
 floor and seated her upon a bench that was on the porch. 
 At the same instant a harsh cry made her start with a 
 scream. A great owl flew out of the big ash-tree and sailed 
 across the bayou. The fright, slight compared to what she 
 had passed through, was the final experience needed to over- 
 throw her tottering self-control. She had borne up well ; 
 now she gave way. She covered her face with her hands 
 and sobbed. 
 
 Hirne threw himself at her feet. 
 
 '' For Grod's sake, don't distress yourself. Miss Zoe ! All 
 will be well. No harm shall come to you. It can not be 
 an hour past midnight. In an hour more you shall be safe 
 in your own room. I wish to heaven you had not left it ! 
 It was selfish, cruel in me to put this trial upon you. I see 
 it now. I did not then. I fought with the mad craving 
 to see you and have you near me for the last time. My 
 dearest, do not fret yourseK so. You will be ill. Forgive 
 me, say you forgive me." 
 
 The sight of his distress quieted her. 
 
 '' I have nothing to forgive," she said. " We could not 
 foresee that the soldiers would come." 
 
 *^ And you will not hate me for this ? " 
 
 "I could never hate you," she said; then, looking up 
 
350 WILD WORK. 
 
 and smiling, though her wet cheeks and lashes glistened in 
 the moon-rays, ** never, unless you do some wicked, revenge- 
 ful thing, and that you have promised never to do." 
 
 ** Never. That is a little thing to do for you. Only to 
 restrain my own wild will that never was curbed enough. 
 Do you know I have never thrown a card or tasted liquor 
 since that night I won Vincent's money, not knowing he 
 was your brother — that night when I bore you from the 
 burning boat, and held your chilled form in my arms. I 
 shall never forget that day. It was the turning-point in 
 my life. I have been a different being since then. My old 
 pursuits give me no pleasure. To rove here and there seek- 
 ing chances to revenge my wrongs has lost the feverish 
 charm it had. Instead, I have a thirst to be loved. Oh ! 
 what a thirst ! like a fire consuming my heart ; and it will 
 never be satisfied." 
 
 "It will. You will love some good woman, and be 
 loved by her." 
 
 "No. I shall never love any woman but you ; never, 
 my dearest, I must try to make that little child love me 
 as a father, and be satisfied. I am glad her eyes are dark 
 like yours. She says her prayers at night. I will ask her 
 to pray for you, my guardian angel, if only that I may hear 
 your name." 
 
 Zoe made no answer. They sat near each other ; the 
 moonlight was on her face, and one hand, lily white, 
 drooped at her side. It tempted him, but he did not touch 
 it. The Indian summer night was about them, with its 
 faint fragrance and mystical beauty. The moon rode high ; 
 the shadows hardly stirred ; the cypress-trees stood tall and 
 solemn upon the banks between which the bayou flowed 
 and eddied with low gurgling. That sound and the chirp 
 of the night insects in the dewy grass kept the silence here 
 in the swamp from being oppressive. 
 
WILD WORK. 351 
 
 In spite of her anxiety and self-reproach, the situation 
 held a spell for Zoe. To sit here in the depth of the au- 
 tumn wood, with the man she loved and who loved her so 
 well, had a charm of wild sweetness like that of a flower 
 gathered from the brink of a precipice. She had no fear 
 in being alone with Hirne. Impetuous, passionate as he 
 was, she knew she could trust perfectly in his honor, in his 
 love, that, with all its unconventional fervor, was of that 
 fine, poetic quality that would not sully its object even in 
 thought. He would have died rather than startle the mod- 
 esty of the woman he loved. This moment was sweet to 
 him, but he put aside the temptation to prolong its sweet- 
 ness. 
 
 *^ I think we will be safe now in going back," he said. 
 
 He would put her in the saddle and walk beside her. 
 '^I like it better," he said. " I am tired of riding. I am 
 a capital walker. Few horses can beat me." Which was 
 no vain boast. 
 
 Cautiously, and with little noise, they retraced their way 
 through the silent woods. Hirne, in low tones, talked cheer- 
 fully to keep up Zoe's spirits. Walking at her side, his tall 
 figure, his careless hair, his free step, giving him a Robin 
 Hood look ; watchful of her comfort, careful the boughs 
 should not incommode her, making merry over small mis- 
 haps and saying picturesque things in his quaint way, half 
 jocular, half earnest, he made the way seem so short that 
 she looked around amazed when they came out into the 
 open strip of woods and saw the pecan-tree and the fields 
 beyond, and the house in its tree shadows, all lying quiet 
 and silent in the moonlight. 
 
 *'No sight or sound of the troops," Hirne said. '^ Will 
 you not ride to the end of the lane before dismounting ? 
 Mort will come back to me." 
 
 But this she would not do. It miojht draw notice to 
 
352 WILD WORK. 
 
 him. She preferred to walk from the pecan-tree. So un- 
 der the shadow he helped her from the horse. Her hands 
 were cold, for the latter hours of the October night were 
 touched with chill, and the malarial night air, the anxiety 
 and fatigue, sent premonitory shivers through her frame. 
 Her quick-sighted lover noted it as he helped her to alight. 
 
 ** Your hands are almost as cold as they were that night 
 I held them to my breast to warm them," he said. "If 
 you should be ill from this night's experience I will never 
 forgive myself. I shall for ever think with self -rebuke of 
 the trial I have brought on you to-night. Your tender 
 heart made you listen to my selfish prayer. Then, I was 
 mean enough to play upon your fears for me." 
 
 " You must not talk so. I do not regret having seen 
 you. My only regret is the danger you exposed yourself 
 to." 
 
 "That is nothing — nothing to having made you pale 
 and unhappy, and on the night before your wedding. I 
 have come like a death's head at your feast of joy to make 
 your sweet cheeks shed their roses. Don't think too hard 
 of me. I did not mean it. I meant to have looked at you 
 unseen and gone away, but when I saw Mm sitting by you, 
 so proud and happy, and you smiling in his face, I thought 
 bitterly : * She might spare me one hour, to have her near 
 me, to look at and listen to her for the last time — one hour 
 from that man who is going to have her all her sweet life.' 
 It seemed a small thing then for you. I feel now that it 
 was a sacrifice I ought never to have asked." 
 
 " I do not feel it so since I have received your promise 
 to quit a life of roving and violence and live in peace. 
 And you have promised, too, to leave here, and not to come 
 back till the troops have left Cohatchie. Have you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, I will go ; I will not try to see you again until — 
 I have become resigned to thinking of 3^ou as another man's 
 
WILD WORK 353 
 
 wife. Now I am not resigned. Don't shed a tear over me, 
 my sweetest ; I will get the better of this madness, and some 
 day I will bring my little ward to see the fair woman she 
 has heard me call my good angel. Good-by.'' 
 
 He pressed her hands between his own, repressing the 
 passion whose thrill she could feel in that lingering clasp. 
 A tear fell from his eyes upon her hand. She, too, was 
 weeping as she tui-ned away. 
 
 He leaned his arm on his faithful horse and watched 
 her until her dark-robed form was lost in the silvery dusk 
 of the night. Then, sighing heavily, he mounted and rode 
 back into the woods. He was full of regret for the danger 
 he had exposed her to, the pain of sympathy he had cost 
 her. He did not dream the full extent of her trial to- 
 night ; he did not dream that she loved him. Pity for 
 him, the sympathy of a w^omanly heart — this was all he 
 thought she felt for him. He could not know that she, 
 too, had struggled to preserve her self-control — that duty 
 and honor had fought with the wild longing to speak words 
 that would have made him happy; to say, *^I love you. 
 You are more to me than the man I was going to marry. 
 I will fly with you to the wilds of Texas — anywhere to be 
 with you." 
 
 She thanked God that strength had been given her to 
 keep back this revelation ; yet how happy it would have 
 made him ! She let herself fancy for a moment what a 
 light would have leaped into those deep-set, wistful eyes. 
 
 She felt he had spoken truly. Her love could help him 
 to be a good and useful man. Those strong energies, that 
 ill-fortune had swerved from the right, she. could help 
 turn into worthy channels. Her love would be rest to 
 him, and for herself, she felt that one year with Hirne in 
 the Texas wilderness would be richer in happiness than 
 an existence spent in the gay city with Royal West. 
 
354: WILD WORK. 
 
 Yet she owed allegiance to Eoyal West. She must 
 marry him. He had waited so long, so faithfully, for the 
 fulfillment of her promise. He was here to marry her 
 on the morrow. There was no honorable escape. To 
 play him false at this late hour would be basest cruelty. 
 No, she must marry him ; she must put out of her mind 
 for ever the image of the man she had just parted with. 
 
 With these thoughts coursing through her brain she 
 sat for an hour after she had softly entered her room. Day 
 was streaking the east when she at last undressed and lay 
 down upon her bed. She drew the coverlet about her. 
 She was hot and shivering by tui'ns ; wild thrills ran 
 through her brain and body — symptoms premonitory of 
 fever. That hour of miserable watching had completed 
 the work half done by the anxiety and terror of the night 
 and the malaiial breath of the beautiful but baleful swamp. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Zoe's marriage day opened fair. A blue mist clung to 
 the distant landscape, and a soft haze diffused itself through 
 the atmosphere and chastened the splendors of the sun. 
 The household at the Vincent cottage were early astir. 
 Little Mrs. Hugh was in her pantry inspecting the bride's 
 cake, about whose frosting she had been doubtful. Kate, 
 fresh as a lily in her pretty blue morning dress, was up not 
 long after sunrise and tapped at Zoe's door, calling out : 
 
 '^Wake, laggard!" 
 
 There was no answer, and the girl thought she heard a 
 moan within. She opened the door in haste. There lay 
 the bride-elect, her cheeks and lips carmine, her eyes glassy 
 
WILD WORK. 355 
 
 bright, turning with the vacant stare of unconsciousness 
 upon her frightened friend. 
 
 A physician was sent for in haste ; he pronounced her 
 illness to be malarial fever. For days she was unconscious, 
 part of the time lying in a stupor, but often delirious. 
 None guessed the immediate cause of her illness. Fortu- 
 nately, her going and coming the night before had not been 
 seen. "When the soldiers surrounded and searched the 
 house to find the escaped prisoner, they had been informed 
 was lurking about the premises, they had been less thor- 
 ough in ransacking than usual, owing to the presence of 
 Roy and Lareau, whom the ofiicer in command had known 
 in New Orleans. The rooms of the young ladies were not 
 molested, and Zoe's absence was not discovered. Imme- 
 diately after searching the house and grounds they had 
 ridden down the lane, having been told by a negro that, at 
 dusk, he had seen a big black horse fastened under the 
 pecan by a Texas hair lariat. The glimpse the soldiers had 
 of the flying form of Hirne and his horse before the friendly 
 shadows of the swamp received them was not suflScient to 
 show them the female form beside him. So Zoe's night 
 adventure was known to none but herself and Hirne. Her 
 wild talk about being pursued through the woods, leaping 
 fallen logs and ravines on horseback, riding down bayous 
 to dark liiding-places, and her piteous appeals of ^' Do not 
 leave me, take me with you," were regarded as incoherent 
 ravings. And when, holding fast to Roy's hand and look- 
 ing into his face, she said : *^I love you ; I can't bear for 
 you to leave me for ever ; I will go with you anywhere," 
 he answered, tenderly, with tears in his eyes, *' My darling, 
 I will not leave you," and turning to Hugh, said, '* You see 
 she is not altogether out of her mind ; she knows me, and 
 begs me not to leave her." 
 
 He and Kate were her faithful nurses, and when the 
 16 
 
356 WILD WORE. 
 
 crisis was past she opened her conscious eyes upon their 
 relieved and smiling faces. But she gathered strength 
 slowly, and before she was well enough to walk about the 
 room Roy was obliged to return to the city. A letter from 
 his partner reminded him that a highly important case 
 demanded his attention. His absence would cause him to 
 sulfer in his professional reputation as well as his purse. 
 Zoe urged him to go at once. She was out of danger, and 
 improving daily. It was at last decided that he should go. 
 He had pressed her to let the marriage take place before he 
 went. The day fixed for his departure he came in to see 
 her, and found her sitting up for the first time. Her deli- 
 cately featured face, with its dark penciled brows and ex- 
 quisite outlines of chin and cheek, showed white as carven 
 ivory in the setting of violet-purple dressing gown. Kate's 
 deft hands had braided her hair into two loose, girlish 
 plaits that hung down her shoulders. 
 
 *'You look so sweet this morning! "Roy said as he 
 lifted one of the little hands to his lips. "Are you sure 
 you will not retract your decision of yesterday ? Zoe, don't 
 you think it would be better for us to be married before I 
 go away ? I would not feel so bad at leaving you then. 
 Let the ceremony take place here, with only Kate and 
 Hugh and his wife present, and you in that pretty jDurple 
 gown in which you look like a pansy, my love ? " 
 
 She shook her head, trying to laugh, as she said : " You 
 know it is bad luck to marry a bride on her sick-bed, Roy. " 
 
 " Bother such old woman's signs ! Though I am grow- 
 ing almost superstitious about this marriage. It has been 
 delayed so often by untoward circumstances, and, forgive 
 me, by your caprice, my own, until it seems it is fated 
 never to be. Do you intend making me a second Jacob, 
 my dark-eyed Rachel ? " 
 
 **Not so bad as that, Roy ; listen to me. Let me get 
 
WILD WORK. 357 
 
 well and look a little more like a bride ; tlien when Hugh 
 goes down with his cotton I will go with him, and — " 
 
 " And we will be married at once, quietly at church, 
 and will go on to Cuba to receive your father's blessing, 
 then from there to New York, Niagara, and the Lakes — the 
 stereotyped bridal tour — and back to New Orleans in time to 
 eat mother's Christmas turkey at our unfailing family re- 
 union. Well; that programme will do, my darling, second 
 best to the one I first proposed — that of marrying right 
 now, which I still think best, for I remember that * there's 
 often a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip,' and my cup has so 
 often been put aside that I am naturally impatient." 
 
 Zoe did not encourage him to dwell upon this view of 
 the matter. She said, as cheerily as she could : 
 
 "Perhaps we will have Kate's company in the trip you 
 have mapped out. Mr. Lareau wants their marriage to 
 take place in a month or two. " 
 
 *' So they are really going to marry ; and that little co- 
 quette has got captured at last ! I was glad to see that she 
 laid aside her airs in Lareau's company. He's too good a 
 fellow to be blown about by the capricious breath of a flirt. 
 He has interests in Cuba, so it is likely enough he would be 
 of our party." 
 
 It was decided that Zoe should go down to the city with 
 her brother and be married there in church, and after this 
 point was settled, Eoy sat talking till Kate declared her 
 patient needed a rest after his "infliction of tongue," and 
 would not be satisfied till she had put her in bed and seen 
 her smiling at them from the pillows, sweetly, but with 
 eyes that seemed to have much ado to hold back their tears. 
 They flowed freely when she was alone. 
 
 " Oh ! how mean and ungrateful I am !" she said to her- 
 self, " to deceive him so ; to marry him loving another 
 man, thinking always of that other one, as I can not help 
 
358 ^^^^^ WORK. 
 
 doing. But I told him once, and lie said it was a roman- 
 tic fancy I would get over. I have not gotten oyer it, and 
 now I shrink from speaking of it again, since I have re- 
 newed my promise, and have come so near marrying him 
 that it almost seems that I am his wife. Oh ! how will it 
 end, I wonder ? It can not go on like this ; I should feel 
 guilty and wretched all the time. If marriage does not 
 cure me, I shall despair. They say that, once married, a 
 woman is sure to love her husband, provided he is at all 
 lovable ; Roy is kind, and I am truly attached to him ; I 
 thought I loved him until I met Hirne ; I have caused him 
 so much annoyance and trouble ; I have disconcerted his 
 plans so often by putting off this marriage, and now I am 
 again begging for delay. But it must be the last time. I 
 have the best of excuses now ; I am really too ill to be ex- 
 cited by a marriage ceremony. As soon as I recover 
 strength I will go down with Hugh and — oh I I wish Roy 
 zoould be happy and pleased with me to let things stay as 
 they are." 
 
 Royal returned to the city, and the next week Kate fol- 
 lowed him. She had preparations to make for her own 
 marriage. The days went by, Zoe recovered her health, 
 but she was so grave that Mrs. Hugh grieved over her lack 
 of spirits, and the children missed their romps with their 
 pretty and agile aunty. She heard nothing of Hirne. 
 True to his promise, he had gone away. The troops were 
 still quartered in Cohatchie, greatly to the annoyance of 
 the town and the disappointment of the party who had 
 hoped to carry the election, now near at hand. They had 
 expected the troops would be withdrawn, and the men who 
 had been arrested would be released on their giving bond 
 to appear when their trial was held. Alver nominated his 
 ticket in prison, and still hoped to be out in time to rally 
 his friends to the polls. He was disappointed ; the troops re- 
 
WILD WOEE, 359 
 
 mained after they had made all the arrests they seemed able 
 or anxious to make, and when the election came their pres- 
 ence defeated the hopes of Alver. Men from the surround- 
 ing neighborhood would not come in to vote for fear of 
 being arrested, while the negroes and the poorer whites 
 from the *^ Hills," who were known as WitchelFs friends, 
 came to a man, and many, who had been won over to Alyer's 
 cause by his eloquence and energy, now voted with the 
 other side through fear or policy, or because the presence 
 of the dashing and powerful cavalry influenced their igno- 
 rant imaginations. 
 
 When the election came, the prisoners, strongly guarded, 
 went to the polls and voted, and returned to prison. But 
 their presence and their efforts on the election ground 
 availed nothing. Their ticket was defeated. 
 
 Witchell was reelected, but his success gave him no 
 pleasure beyond a fierce feeling of triumph over these peo- 
 ple who had shown themselves so determinedly opposed to 
 him. His feelings toward them, which had never been bit- 
 ter before, were now full of revenge. He seemed to see 
 in every man the slayer of his brother. 
 
 To add to his bitterness there was the disappointment he 
 felt in the action of the Government in regard to the mur- 
 derers of his friends. He had looked for and demanded 
 summary punishment, and he had met with delay and in- 
 definiteness. He feared that the action of the Government 
 upon the case would amount to nothing after all, and it was 
 galling to him to know that the reason was because the party 
 in power, conscious of the number of incompetent and un- 
 worthy men it had put in office through the South, was 
 afraid to prosecute inquiries lest blacker developments 
 should be brought to light to the damage of the party. 
 " Stir not a dung-hill," says a coarse old proverb. 
 
 Evil reacts on itself. In this case evil had begotten 
 
360 WILD WORK. 
 
 evil which it was afraid to punish, lest its own wickedness 
 should be more fully exposed. The license permitted to 
 those who administered rule at the South had tempted 
 Marshall WitchelFs ambition and love of gain, and the 
 people had pushed their protest against his exactions to tlie 
 deplorable extreme of mob and murder. 
 
 Nor did the wave of evil stop here. A spirit of strife 
 was now engendered in the town that had been the scene 
 of the riot. Suspicion and dissension poisoned social in- 
 tercourse. Men who had been friends now looked upon 
 each other as traitors or spies ; the little community was 
 broken into cliques, each of which suspected the other of 
 intriguing against it. 
 
 It was now known that the prisoners would be tried in 
 New Orleans by commissioners appointed by the Govern- 
 ment. Meantime the actual leaders of the mob of lynch- 
 ers had never been captured, though large rewards were 
 offered for their arrest. Yet two of them, Cobb and Cap- 
 tain Dick (who was no other than Lanier), were in hiding not 
 far from Cohatchie, and occasionally, in different disguises, 
 they would slip into the town or dash in recklessly past the 
 guard on dark nights, speak to their friends, throw letters, 
 and receive packages of eatables or papers, and escape by 
 outrunning and baffling their pursuers. Lanier had man- 
 aged to obtain possession of the uniform of a United States 
 soldier, and in this dress he had more than once rode into 
 town, looked around, and got away without being found 
 out. He had his eye upon Witchell, and he watched for 
 an opportunity to "pick him off," as he said, without ex- 
 posing himself to capture. But no such opportunity pre- 
 sented itself. Witchell kept within the protection of the 
 troops. For the first time in his life he was cautious. 
 "They shall not have the i)leasure of killing me yet," he 
 said, "not till I have wrought my will upon them." La- 
 
WILD WOEK. 361 
 
 nier had stealthy glimpses of him sometimes as he rode 
 about with officers of the cavalry, his figure erect, his eye 
 still cold and keen, his pride apparently unchecked, his 
 prosperity undiminished. None knew of the disappointed 
 feeling that gnawed in secret on his heart. 
 
 *' Curse him !" muttered Lanier, " I'll be even with him 
 yet. All the while I was away something kept telling me 
 to come back and kill him — the villain that stole my love 
 from me and made me a vagabond. I came at last to find 
 her dead, no doubt through him, and to find revenge pos- 
 sible to me now, for the people will protect me in what I 
 may do to him. I've killed one of the brood, but that only 
 whets my appetite. I'll never rest till I've put him out of 
 the world." 
 
 He would utter some of these savage threats to Cobb as 
 the two broiled their game over the camp fire in their 
 hiding-place — an out-of-the-way nook in the heart of a 
 swamp back of Clear Lake — a nook surrounded by bayous 
 (with mud, alligators, and quicksand), whose fordable 
 places were known only to the initiated. Cobb encouraged 
 his ferocity and laughed, well- pleased. He himself was 
 gi'owing more irritated and impatient every day. His hope 
 of office had proved a delusion, and he was unable to 
 carry away the prize for which he had worked in such dark 
 ways — the woman who had so long been the object of his 
 fierce passion, whom he would have seized and carried off, 
 only he stood in awe of her strong will, and feared to make 
 her hate him. He did not know she already hated him, 
 and only hid her feelings lest she should excite him to des- 
 peration, and make him betray her secret. He was eager 
 to hold her to her promise that she would go away with 
 him if he did the work she required. He had done the 
 work — more than she had named at first ; it was no fault of 
 his if it had failed of its expected result. But now slio 
 
302 WILD WOBK, 
 
 showed no inclination to fulfill her promise. The presence 
 of the troops gave him little opportunity to urge it upon 
 her. In his stealthy or flying trips into town he could 
 barely get a glimpse at or a word with her, hardly ever in 
 private, and she refused to meet him in the woods for the 
 sake of his safety, she said, as well as her own reputation. 
 She, at least, dreaded the time when the withdrawal of the 
 troops would put her in his power, and give him the oppor- 
 tunity to force her to close her bargain with him — the ex- 
 overseer, the murderer of her husband, the man she loathed 
 more every day as she grew to care more passionately for 
 Alver. She showed herself womanly in this, at least, that 
 she did not forsake Alver after his failure. She attached 
 herself all the more closely to him and to his cause. She 
 sought to console and cheer him, refusing to see how such 
 consolation from her seemed to irritate and madden him. 
 
 '*This failure is nothing," she said as she arranged in 
 a jar on his table the flowers his little girl had brought to 
 the prison for him. *^ This defeat is only the stepping- 
 stone to success in future. These very troops who have 
 caused your failure here will help you in the end. Already 
 their arrogance and impositions disgust the common people, 
 and even the negroes who are the Radical strength. Next 
 time your success will be sure. And long before next elec- 
 tion, Witchell's place will be vacant. Only the troops 
 protect him now. When they are withdrawn he will come 
 here sometime to see after his interests, for he is daring 
 enough, and whenever he comes he will be killed." 
 
 "Talk no more to me of killing, for God's sake ! I am 
 sick of bloodshed," he exclaimed, turning away with a ges- 
 ture of such distaste for her words and for her that she 
 grew pale. She controlled herself, saying only in a tone of 
 gentle reproach : 
 
 **I merely wanted to speak of how near you miglit be. 
 
WILD WORK. 363 
 
 in spite of this failure, to the end you have been working 
 for." 
 
 **I had better make sure of my neck or my liberty be- 
 fore I begin to think again of political honors," he said, 
 with a sneer. " I have this trial before me, and, perhaps, a 
 gallows or a State-prison. The commissioners appointed 
 to try us are now in the city. We go down Thursday on 
 the Alma." 
 
 It was the steamboat in which Zoe and her brother were 
 going to the city. Thursday night Zoe sat opposite the 
 chief prisoner at the tea-table. Very little like a prisoner 
 he looked. His clear-cut face was paler and thinner than 
 it had been before, and a shade of care, and of something 
 darker and more restless than care, was in his eyes ; but his 
 old high-bred politeness, dashed with haughtiness, still dis- 
 tinguished his manners ; his smile had its old charm, and 
 his voice its tone of command. Zoe and her brother lis- 
 tened to him talk to a group of men that gathered around 
 him after supper. He was wary and reticent at first, but 
 presently something was said that touched his quick spirit, 
 and his eye flashed and his tones rang out rapid and im- 
 perious. 
 
 "The commissioners will get the better of him," said 
 Hugh to his sister. " He is too proud, and not wily enough 
 to stand their cross-examination. He will betray himself. 
 The only hope is that they will not care to press the inyes- 
 tigation far just now. If it was before instead of just after 
 a Presidential and other important elections, no pains 
 would be spared to make large electioneering capital out of 
 it ; but the battle has been won, and it is not worth while 
 working this up. It could not be put to much use just 
 now." 
 
 Affairs of his own had called Hugh to town several days 
 earlier than he had intended. The change in the time of 
 
361 WILD WORK. 
 
 starting was rather suddenly decided upon, and Zoe had 
 not written to Koy to apprise him of it. He was not there 
 to meet them, therefore, when the boat steamed into the 
 harbor through the anchored vessels of all kinds and 
 countries, their masts and chimneys reddened by the set- 
 ting sun. Taking a carriage, Hugh and his sister drove 
 to the house of Dr. Melvin, whose wife — a handsome so- 
 ciety lady — was Zoe's cousin, and gave her a cordial wel- 
 come. Hugh, preferring the freedom of the hotel, went 
 to take possession of his old room at the St. Charles. Mrs. 
 Melvin carried Zoe to her room, lit the wax candles on the 
 toilet table, and examined her critically. 
 
 ''You are paler than you were last spring ; but brides 
 should be a little pale, and you are pretty as a white 
 camellia. Take a bath and a cup of tea, and then get your- 
 self into full dress, ready for going out. You are fortunate 
 in having come this evening. It is an opera night, and we 
 have a new tenor who is perfectly ravishing." 
 
 " That is tempting after months of starvation in music, 
 but — ought I not to let Roy know I am here, and see him 
 to-night ? " 
 
 '* To-morrow will do as well. I am sure he will be at 
 the theatre to-night. He was there last evening in his 
 partner's. Judge Taylor's, box, with the Judge's daughter 
 Florence. She has been back from boarding-school only a 
 few weeks, and is very pretty. Cliere, I would give Royal 
 a lecture ; he was devoted to Miss Taylor." 
 
 '' Was he ?" smiled Zoe, absently, as she let fall the dark 
 mass of her hair. 
 
 "Yes, and the Taylor family would be delighted to 
 make a match between them. You are a thousand times 
 lovelier than Florence — what hair you have ! — but these 
 young debutantes are irresistible to men somehow. We can 
 only see bread-and-butter crudeness, or vanity that has not 
 
WILD WORE. 365 
 
 the art to hide itseK. Make yourself splendid, Zoe ; I will 
 send Lousette to help you. She will take delight in hand- 
 ling this lovely hair again." 
 
 Zoe had handsome dresses, for she had a taste for ele- 
 gance, and had some means of her own ; besides, her father 
 and brother had been liberal in the matter of her trousseau. 
 She laid out some rich silks, trimmed profusely with Span- 
 ish laces — sent by her father from Cuba — before she decided 
 to wear something that would make her least conspicuous 
 — a black silk, relieved by delicate lace with pearl and coral 
 jewelry, and a little pearl-gray hat and plume. Thus 
 dressed, she accompanied Dr. and Mrs. Melvin to the opera. 
 There was a crowd, but her party occupied reserved seats 
 in a position that enabled them to see without themselves 
 being conspicuous. 
 
 ^' There is Eoy now, in the box with Miss Taylor," 
 whispered Mrs. Melvin as soon as she had swept the room 
 with her lorgnette. 
 
 Zoe turned her head and saw him seated by a pretty, 
 fresh-looking girl in white. She held herself in readiness 
 to catch his eye, and smile at his stare of surprise and 
 pleasure, but he did not look in her direction. He was 
 occupied with his partner, fanning her, bending to talk to 
 her or to listen when she spoke. Zoe changed her mind. 
 She pulled a corner of her light, pearl-tinted veil so as to 
 shade her face, and watched those two in the lace-curtained 
 box. 
 
 Before the ravishing tenor had bowed over his final ova- 
 tion of flowers she had made a discovery. She saw that 
 Roy loved this fresh young school-girl, and that the admi- 
 ration was mutual. The girl, unconsciously it might be, 
 was fascinated by her father's handsome young partner. 
 Roy's attentions to her were by no means so exigeant as to 
 attract notice ; Zoe even saw tokens of self-restraint on his 
 
336 WILD WORE, 
 
 part, but her quick eye and her woman's intuition showed 
 her a dozen subtile indications of love. 
 
 After the first shock of surprise and mortified vanity 
 there came a feeling of relief. The marriage might be an- 
 nulled and no wrong done to Roy or to her own honor. 
 He had not seen, or seeing had not recognized, her under 
 that light gauze, and she would not permit Mrs. Melvin to 
 make any sign to draw his notice to her. 
 
 " To-morrow will be quite soon enough," she said. ** I 
 will send him a note to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Melvin, who secretly thought Zoe had a right to 
 be a bit jealous, was surprised at her gay spirits that night. 
 After the opera she sang and talked for Dr. Melvin, who 
 was a charming, gray-haired old gentleman, twenty years 
 older than his wife, and so gallantly devoted to Zoe that 
 Mrs. Melvin declared he had no eyes for any one else when 
 she was by. 
 
 Before Zoe could send her note next morning Roy was 
 at the door. He had met Hugh on the street, and came 
 full of reproaches that she had not let him know of her 
 arrival the evening before. Through all his fluency of talk 
 Zoe detected the nervous embarrassment he tried to hide. 
 She herself was cool and smiling, and, with perfect self- 
 possession and easy flow of question and comment, she did 
 her best to restore his composure. He did not know that 
 she had been at the opera the night before, and she made 
 no allusion to it. He had brought her a basket of grapes, 
 on the top of which lay a roll of music — a new waltz, he 
 said ; and Zoe, in the lull of the conversation, sat down and 
 tried a few bars. Then she said : 
 
 *'It is a wonder you did not bring a song ; you always 
 do. I have not forgotten your partiality for simple melo- 
 dies, and have fitted one, for you especially, to a little poem 
 you have read." 
 
WILD WORK. 367 
 
 She struck a few chords and sang a few verses of ^^ Mrs. 
 Proctor's Woman's Question " : 
 
 "Before I trust my fate to thee, 
 
 Or place my hand in thine, 
 Before I let thy future give 
 
 Color and form to mine, 
 Before I peril all for thee, 
 Question thy soul to-day for me." 
 
 Glancing at him now and then as she sang, she saw how 
 restless the song with its searching questions, and her own 
 earnest tones, made him. His color fluctuated, and at last, 
 as if unable to bear the probe upon his feelings, he rose and 
 walked the room. Her eye arrested him and drew him to 
 her as she sang one special verse. She looked at him 
 steadily, and it was a question, heart to heart, direct as if 
 spoken, and more solemn and impressive, when she sang : 
 
 " Is there within thy heart a need 
 
 That mine can not fulfill ? 
 One chord that any other hand 
 
 Could better wake or still ? 
 Speak now, lest at some future day 
 My whole life wither and decay." 
 
 The fresh color that was natural to him was gone out 
 of his face when she had finished. He looked troubled 
 and conscience-stricken. He walked aimlessly about the 
 room, and then came and stood by her and looked at her 
 without speaking. 
 
 '' There is something you want to tell me ; what is it ? " 
 she asked, looking up and smiling. 
 
 He was very grave. ^'No," he said, "there is nothing 
 I want to tell you. " 
 
 "Then there is something you do not want to tell me, 
 but feel that you ought. I can guess what it is." 
 
368 WILD WORK. 
 
 ** You can not guess," he said, hoarsely. 
 
 "Then there is something." 
 
 " Nothing except — except that I liked your song. Your 
 voice has improyed." 
 
 " Thank you. But you are not candid. There is some- 
 thing else, and I have guessed it. You love Miss Taylor — 
 your partner's daughter." 
 
 He started from his seat. 
 
 "Who said so? Who has dared to tell 3"ou such a 
 thing?" 
 
 "No one. I saw it myself. I was at the opera last 
 night, and I watched you unseen. I saw as plainly, as if his 
 heart had been bared to me, that the man who was betrothed 
 to me, whom I came here to marry, loved another." 
 
 " Zoe ! I had hoped — I mean you must not think 
 such a thing. It is absurd. " 
 
 "It is true." 
 
 "And you tell me so with such kind looks ! Though 
 you must feel that I am a base wretch without truth or 
 honor. But, Zoe, I swear I never dreamed of wronging 
 you. This came on me unlocked for. I never thought 
 there was danger until the mischief was well begun. I 
 went with Florence because her father asked it. He never 
 goes into society, likes his comfort at home when he is not 
 engaged with his business, and he requested me to attend 
 his young daughter. I found her attractive from the first. 
 I was with her often ; she knew scarcely any one, and she 
 clung to me in a timid, girlish way. She liked me — " 
 
 "She loves you," Zoe interrupted. 
 
 " I believe she does," he groaned. " Yet I told her of 
 my engagement to you. I have never said a word of love 
 to her. God knows I had no intention of playing the vil- 
 lain. I tried to keep away from her, but her father would 
 send for me, and seemed hurt if I did not come as I had 
 
WILD WORK. 369 
 
 been in the habit of coming while she was at school. For a 
 long time I deceived myself into the belief that it was mere 
 friendly interest I felt in Florence ; I thought so until a few 
 nights ago, and then — But no matter ; Zoe, can you for- 
 give me ? After all, you are partly to blame. Those mis- 
 erable, long engagements ! they never end well. You 
 would put off our marriage. " 
 
 "I am glad I did." 
 
 " Glad ! My God ! Glad that I have been tempted to 
 become unworthy of your confidence ! But I will deserve 
 it better in future. Bear with me, Zoe — my love, my 
 only love. Yes, it shall be. I will get the better of this 
 folly. You shall have no fault to find with me when we 
 are married, dear. I will be worthy of your true heart. " 
 
 *^True? You forget that I once confessed a similar 
 folly to you." 
 
 *^ Wlien ? Ah ! that was only a passing fancy, a roman- 
 tic dream." 
 
 •*It was a lasting reality. It has lived in my heart ever 
 since." 
 
 *^Zoe?" 
 
 ^* Yes, my friend. You will not blame me now for say- 
 ing I am glad this marriage was put off. Fate has had a 
 hand in it. I love another better than I do you. I had 
 trusted to marriage to conquer it. I could not bear to 
 wound you by breaking a promise you had waited so long 
 and faithfully for me to fulfill. Now I know I shall do 
 you no harm by refusing to marry you. And so I do re- 
 fuse you — ^now." 
 
 " But, Zoe, I can not permit — Are you sure — " 
 
 '* I am sure I will not marry you ; sure it does not break 
 my heart to give you up ; sure another girl would be hap- 
 pier as your wife than I would be ; sure you will be happier 
 with that one than with me, and sure that we shall yet have 
 
370 WILD WORK. 
 
 a wedding, although I now give you back your ring — a wed- 
 ding with a fairer and more loving bride than I, who has 
 my heartiest good wishes for her happiness, and whom I 
 hope to know, and am sure that I shall love." 
 
 She never looked prettier in her life than when she 
 stood before him delivering this little speech, with her black 
 eyes sparkling roguishly, a flush on her cheek, and the little 
 silky rings of hair trembling on her forehead. She was 
 dressed with care ; she was willing to give up her lover ; 
 but, with a pardonable womanly weakness, she wanted to 
 make him feel what he had lost, and regret being given 
 up just a little. He did feel the value of what he had lost. 
 He thought as he looked at her that Florence Taylor could 
 never be such a woman, and that he would always miss in 
 her that variety, that quick sympathy, and that spirituelle 
 charm which had kept him at Zoe's feet so long. But it 
 was too late to encourage any such regret. Confessions 
 had been made upon both sides that would rise up awk- 
 wardly at the marriage altar. He looked at her with a mo- 
 ment's longing. How adorable she seemed, now that she 
 was not his any longer ! He would get over this in a little 
 while — when he met Florence again — but now he felt, most 
 unreasonably, a jealous pang. 
 
 "And you — ?" he said. 
 
 '*I shall probably never marry — never, certainly, unless 
 I meet again the hero of my ' romantic dream,' as you call 
 it." 
 
 "Who is he? I do not believe he is worthy of you. 
 Where is he ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I never may see him again. But I 
 will not anticipate evil. Do you know we have been talk- 
 ing nearly three hours ? " (consulting her tiny watch) " and 
 I must dress to go on Canal Street with Cousin Clara. 
 Will Kate come to see me this afternoon ? " 
 
WILD WORK. 371 
 
 a 
 
 Yes. She is in Carrollton visiting Maude Blake. I 
 have sent for her. Zoe, what will Kate think, what will 
 all our friends think, of our marriage being broken off ? " 
 
 '' Tell them the truth — that it is broken off by mutual 
 consent. It may excite wonder and a little gossip ; but 
 what is that to a marriage in which our hearts do not 
 wholly enter ? And, Roy, go and tell Miss Florence that 
 you are free and that you love her. '' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Kate came to see Zoe in the afternoon, but there was 
 other company, and the two girls had no opportunity for a 
 word in private. 
 
 ^^I will call round this evening with Roy," Kate said as 
 she was going away. 
 
 " Come to tea," Mrs. Melvin urged, not caring to add 
 that she had planned a kind of family party, having in- 
 vited Hugh and Winter Lareau, whom she met on the 
 street, to come and partake of oysters and champagne. 
 Later in the afternoon she invited another person, no other 
 than little Florence Taylor herself, not as properly belong- 
 ing to the family party, but for a purpose of her own. 
 Quite unexpectedly. Miss Florence called just before sun- 
 set, sending her card to Zoe, who received her cordially and 
 did her best to put her visitor at ease. " She was curious to 
 see Roy's betrothed," thought imaginative Mrs. Melvin, and 
 she was sure it was jealousy that made the girl watch the 
 face and follow the movements of the beautiful woman 
 with such intentness. 
 
 Zoe saw otherwise. She pitied Florence's embarrass- 
 ment, she saw dejection in her intent look, and she felt the 
 
372 WILD WORK. 
 
 quiver of hopelessness in the girl's voice when, taking Zoe's 
 offered hand at parting and looking into her face, she said : 
 
 ** Your picture is like you, only you are much lovelier. 
 No wonder Mr. West loves you so." 
 
 ^' Have you seen Royal to-day ?" Zoe asked. 
 
 " Yes ; he dined with us. He had promised several 
 days ago. This is my father's birthday." 
 
 *^And did he tell you anything — anything very par- 
 ticular ? " Zoe asked, looking at her and holding the little 
 gloved hand between her warm palms. 
 
 " He told me you had come and he had seen you." 
 
 '^Nothing else ?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " He talked but little ; he said he was not well." 
 
 " There is something more that he ought to have told 
 you — that he will tell you," Zoe said, smiling caressingly 
 into the wondering young face. 
 
 She would have said more, so sorry was she to see that 
 fair face clouded with despondency, but Mrs. Melvin came 
 in at this moment with her invitation for Florence to come 
 to tea. 
 
 ** There will only be two or three friends," she said. 
 ** Mr. Lareau, Royal West, and his sister. Zoe and her 
 brother are only home folks." 
 
 The girl hesitated. She knew it would give her pain 
 to see Royal's devotion to this lovely lady, but the human 
 heart, especially the heart of the young, has a perverse 
 desire to inflict pain on itself. Then she could not help 
 wishing to see the betrothed pair together, and to watch 
 Roy's manner to the lady of his love. Could his looks be 
 much more tender than some he had bestowed upon her ? 
 
 '^1 will come, Mrs. Melvin," she said, ''if I can get 
 any one to accompany me. My father never goes out, you 
 know." 
 
WILD WORK, 373 
 
 ^^I'll send my Doctor," Mrs. Melvin said, gayly, '^and 
 a handsomer beau can not be found in the city." 
 
 Florence laughed and thanked her, and so the question 
 was settled. There was a spice of malice in Mrs. Melvin's 
 motiyes for this cordial invitation. She was Zoe's devoted 
 adherent, and resented in her behalf the attentions Eoyal 
 had lately paid to Miss Taylor. "He looked glum this 
 morning when he came to see Zoe," she thought. "The 
 new face has something to do with it. Like most men, he is 
 a ninny over every fresh, new face. Can't he compare these 
 two and see how superior my Zoe is to the other ? He shall 
 have an opportunity to make the comparison to-night. 
 Mr. Lareau is a fine singer, and the Doctor is a splendid 
 conversationalist. He will draw Zoe out into talking as 
 she can talk, and she and Winter will sing together, and 
 Miss Florence, who neither sings nor talks well, will be 
 eclipsed so far that Eoy West will see what a simpleton he 
 is to waste a thought upon her t^ hen such a girl as Zoe has 
 condescended to love him." 
 
 They all came. Zoe was radiant, and contributed 
 greatly to the pleasure of the evening by her tact in amus- 
 ing people and making them feel pleased with themselves. 
 But she set herself quietly against being '^ draiun out'^ in 
 order to overshadow Miss Taylor. She was very attentive 
 to Florence ; took pains to lead her into conversation and 
 make her appear well. Roy had not expected to meet 
 Florence here ; had not prepared himself to be in the room 
 at the same time with the woman he was expected to marry 
 and the girl who had stolen into his heart, and to whom he 
 felt his manner had been over-tender for a preengaged man. 
 He was in a dilemma. He half believed Zoe would retract 
 what she had said, that she had been prompted by pride 
 and Jealous pique to break off with him as she had done. 
 He thought this lover of the "romantic dream" a myth, 
 
37i WILD WOEK. 
 
 or a bygone delusion brought up now to make him believe 
 she was not hurt by his unfaithfulness. He had adroitly 
 sounded Hugh on the subject, and found that he knew 
 nothing of any mysterious lover of his sister. He was not 
 fully prepared to give Zoe up. Her attractions had never 
 seemed so great to him as now. What a pride a man 
 would feel in having such a handsome creature at the head 
 of his establishment ! And then if the marriage was 
 broken off, it would create gossip, and he had a proud 
 man's dislike to have his affairs talked about. Yet dear 
 little Florence ! how sweet and loving she was ! Zoe under- 
 stood pretty much what was passing in his mind, and she 
 determined to put an end to his indecision. She would 
 take the initiative herself, and let it be known that the 
 marriage was not to be. 
 
 An opportunity presented itself. Hugh was describing 
 an elaborately designed piece of silver-plate that Lareau 
 had ordered as a gift to some friends — -a fruit-dish — the de- 
 sign a chariot drawn by doves and ornamented with wreaths 
 of myrtle and grape. 
 
 " A wedding present, of course, and we can guess for 
 whom intended," Mrs. Melvin said, looking from Zoe to 
 Eoyal. 
 
 ** And when is it to be presented, may we ask ?" ques- 
 tioned Dr. Melvin, taking off his gold-rimmed spectacles 
 and smiling benevolently around. ** We are all in the fam- 
 ily, as it were, and take a family interest in our two young 
 friends here ; may we not know when the happy day is to 
 be, Eoyal ? " 
 
 Roy colored and looked confused. 
 
 '* I refer you to the lady, sir," he said. " I shall abide 
 by her decision." 
 
 " Why, is it not yet decided ? Zoe, are you another 
 ' Sallie of the Valley,' who had 
 
WILD WORK, 375 
 
 " * So great a mind 
 It took a long time making up ? '" 
 
 ^' Yes, it is decided," Zoe said, leaning slightly for- 
 ward, her elbow resting upon a stand bearing a vase of 
 cut flowers. Her cheeks had flushed, but her mouth, 
 though almost smiling, expressed firmness ; her look was 
 clear and earnest. "It is decided that it is not to be at 
 all." 
 
 She waited until the exclamations of surprise had sub- 
 sided, and continued : " It is not to be at all. Such is the 
 mutual and amicable agreement. Both of us discovered at 
 last that a friendship, warm and true though it was, was 
 hardly the basis a marriage ought to be built upon. It was 
 better to have found it out before than after the irrevocable 
 vows had passed ; was it not ? " 
 
 " Zoe, you are not in earnest, surely ? " came indignant- 
 ly from Kate, while Hugh stared at his sister in speechless 
 amazement. 
 
 *^ Never more so. Come, my friend," turning to Eoy, 
 
 " ' We must confirm this doubting maid.' 
 
 Is it not so that by mutual consent and in all amity we 
 have set aside our proposed partnership and agreed to re- 
 main only friends ? " 
 
 She went up to him and held out her hand as she 
 spoke. He took it, got up, and stood by her. "It is," he 
 said. 
 
 Before he spoke his eye had fallen on Florence, had 
 met her eager, wistful eyes looking at him from a face 
 white as marble, and leant forward in her unconscious in- 
 tentness. When he said "It is," she drew her breath 
 quickly with a little convulsive exclamation. Then recol- 
 lecting herself, and fearing she had betrayed her secret, she 
 
370 WILD WORK. 
 
 colored crimson and buried her face in her hands. Zoe 
 went up to her and kissed her on the forehead. Dr. Mel- 
 vin was on his feet making a playful little speech to the ef- 
 fect that he was greatly relieved to find his ^' queen rose of 
 the rose-bud garden of girls " was not going to be plucked 
 by the ruthless hand of Hymen. He had long had his eye 
 
 upon Miss Zoe as a second partner, in case Mrs. M. " — 
 
 nodding his iron-gray head over to his wife — " should accom- 
 modatingly leave him a fascinating young widower. He 
 congratulated the pair on their moral courage and good 
 sense in drawing back even at the altar's foot, he might 
 say, when they became convinced that a marriage would 
 not promote their happiness. 
 
 Then he opened a bottle of champagne on the center- 
 table by him, and proposed the health and prosperity of the 
 two who had dissolved partnership. 
 
 *^0 Zoe ! how could you ?" asked Kate, reproachfully, 
 when she could get a moment apart with her friend. 
 
 ** He did not love me, Kate ; he loved another. Could 
 you not see it ? " 
 
 "That Taylor girl ? So she is the cause of this ? I 
 thought so. I shall always hate her for it." 
 
 "No, you must not She is a sensible, affectionate girl, 
 just suited to Eoy, and she loves him dearly." 
 
 "She is unprincipled, or she never would have tempted 
 him away from you — tempted him to break his honorable 
 word and wrong a girl worth a hundred Florence Tay- 
 lors." 
 
 " The temptation was unconscious on her part. Don't 
 be unjust, Kate. And Roy has not wronged me, dear. 
 Let me tell you a secret. I was the first offender. I loved 
 some one else better than Eoy." 
 
 "You? Zoe, I don't believe you. It's impossible, or 
 I should have known it. Why, who is he ? " 
 
WILD WORK, 377 
 
 '^ Some day I may tell you — if I ever meet him again. 
 If I never do, why, then, 
 
 " ' Dear fatal name, rest ever unrevealed.' " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 ZoE had been several weeks in New Orleans. Pleasant 
 weeks they were, though she felt a little queer at seeing' 
 Roy, to whom she had always been a first consideration, 
 now giving to another that homage she had so long been 
 accustomed to receive from him. The November weather 
 was as mild as spring, just froscy enough to give sparkle to 
 the autumn sunshine. Amusements were plentiful, and 
 Zee enjoyed the opera and theatre, the drives to the lake, 
 and the walks through the public gardens and parks. In 
 one of these walks Zoe encountered her old acquaintance, 
 Floyd Reese, accompanying a showy woman, highly rouged 
 and youthfully dressed, but no longer young. Floyd, with 
 a nod and smile, passed on. 
 
 "Why, that is Miss Reese, Colonel Alver's governess," 
 said Kate. 
 
 ** Do you recognize the lady she is with ? " asked Winter 
 Lareau. **You saw her last night in 'East Lpme,' but 
 these stage stars look quite differently by daylight. She is 
 Miss Duprez, the leading actress at the Varieties." 
 
 ''How came Floyd Reese to know her so well, I won- 
 der?" 
 
 "I have seen the same lady with Miss Duprez several 
 times. Lance tells me she is an enthusiastic friend of Miss 
 Duprez — writes poetry in her praise for the morning papers, 
 and superintends her stage toilets. Pity she could not give 
 
378 WILD WORK 
 
 her some of her freshness. It would be worth more than 
 the dress accessories." 
 
 The next evening they went again to the Varieties ; the 
 play was still '* East Lynne," and being then a new and 
 popular piece, the house was full. When the heroine of the 
 play came on the stage the audience were too much sur- 
 prised to greet her with the applause usually given to a star 
 on her appearance. They saw, instead of Miss Duprez, 
 with her carefully-made-up face and form, a new face, fresh 
 and beautiful ; the neck and arms of a Greek goddess, hair 
 in sun-hued waves over superb shoulders — a shape at once 
 seductive and commanding. Zoe let fall her opera-glass in 
 her surprise. 
 
 "It is Floyd Reese," she said to Kate. 
 
 *^ How in the world did she manage to get in here ? — a 
 leading part, too. I can't understand it," said Roy, who 
 was with them. 
 
 ''Hush!" whispered Kate, "she is speaking; she has 
 enough of the debutante to make her voice tremble a little." 
 
 There were other signs of the dehutante — signs, too, of 
 being new to her part — a want of ease and readiness, a hesi- 
 tation and nervousness, but her natural grace, her self-re- 
 liance, her fine voice, and her beauty tided her over these, 
 and her acting was successful. The witchery of the woman 
 triumphed over the inexperience of the actress. Her power 
 increased as her nervousness wore off, and when the curtain 
 fell on the first act she was loudly called for. 
 
 " Yonder's Lance coming to us with Lareau," Roy said. 
 " Now we shall hear how it comes that we have a new star 
 instead of Miss Duprez." 
 
 Lance, a slender, long-limbed young fellow, with light 
 hair parted in the middle, and fuzzy mustache, came up, 
 following Lareau, and was immediately questioned about 
 the new appearance. He was dramatic critic of a daily pa- 
 
WILD WORK. 379 
 
 per, and occasionally earned a few dollars by polishing up or 
 paring down plays to suit managers' requirements. Hence 
 he knew all theatre people, sympathized with the managers, 
 was permitted behind the scenes, where he offered sugges- 
 tions to the actresses about their "make-up," and drank 
 beer and sherry with the leading ladies and gentlemen be- 
 tween the acts. Usually Mr. Lance's printed opinion of 
 these leading ladies and gentlemen was regulated by the 
 amount and quality of the wine, or of the supper to which 
 he was treated after the play. He took pride in being fa- 
 miliar with all green-room gossip. 
 
 "Plays pretty well, doesn't she ?" he said, in answer to 
 Roy's questions about Miss Reese. " Wonderful well when 
 you know that she has had but one rehearsal of this piece, 
 and never acted before in her life. Fact. She and Miss 
 Duprez are Damon and Pythias in petticoats. The Reese 
 made her acquaintance one night and won her lasting 
 graititude by being equal to a great emergency, fixing the 
 refractory train of a Worth dress that refused to work well 
 at the last moment. They became inseparable. The Du- 
 prez thinks she couldn't make a stage toilet without her 
 friend's taste to direct it. Miss Reese came with her to 
 all rehearsals, and must have paid strict attention to this 
 part, for she claims to have learned it at these rehearsals. 
 They went out driving this morning, and stopped at a res- 
 taurant. Miss Duprez drank some beer^ and ate some Ger- 
 man Kuchen that must have been too buttery, for imme- 
 diately after she was taken ill, and had to send word to the 
 manager that she couldn't play to-night. It was too late 
 to supply her place — too late to change the piece for an- 
 other. Old Knox was in despair, when in comes Miss Reese 
 with the quiet assertion that she can take the part. The 
 manager stares incredulous. Miss Reese persists, a rehearsal 
 is hurriedly called, and it proves that she can go through 
 17 
 
380 WILD WORK. 
 
 the part more than creditably, as you see to-night. It 
 may end in an engagement if the young lady has aspira- 
 tions for the stage, and is not too devoted to her dear friend 
 to supplant her, which I think possible, as the manager 
 tells me she refuses to be paid for playing to-night ; says 
 the money must go to Miss Duprez. He is delighted with 
 her, swears she is the handsomest woman in the world, and 
 worth a dozen of poor passee Miss Duprez. Such eyes and 
 shoulders may dazzle even a manager and make him see 
 talent where none exists, though I am far from saying — " 
 
 "Excuse me," said a Yoice. A gentleman leaned for- 
 ward from the seat behind and touched the dramatic critic 
 on the arm. ^^Is the actress — Miss Duprez — dangerously 
 ill?" 
 
 Zoe recognized the voice (though there was a huskiness 
 in it), and turned round to speak to Colonel Alver, noting 
 that, though he bowed to her with his usual smile, there 
 was a troubled look on his face. She thought it cleared 
 somewhat when he heard that the illness of the actress 
 was not thought very serious — an attack of cholera morbus, 
 the physician had pronounced it. ''Why should it con- 
 cern Colonel Alver ? " thought Zoe. She could not guess 
 that, knowing Floyd Eeese as he did, a suspicion had en- 
 tered his mind while he listened to Lance's story, a suspi- 
 cion that Floyd had schemed to get the place she occupied 
 to-night, and had got it by foul play. Ilad desperation at 
 being repulsed by him driven her to commit a new crime ? 
 For he had shaken her o2 at last. She had followed him 
 to New Orleans. When the trial was over, and the prisoners 
 set free on their bond to ** appear when called for " — equiva- 
 lent to an acquittal — she came to him with her congratula- 
 tions and her suggestions of ambitious plans for the future. 
 He listened to her with anger and impatience. How ut- 
 terly heartless she was ! He owed the darkest regret of his 
 
WILD WORK. 381 
 
 life to her. She it was, he now knew, whose schemes had 
 given a bloody ending to his plot. He would have no more 
 to do with political scheming. The recollection of that 
 awful tragedy which he had inaugurated was like a smol- 
 dering fire within him. It dried up the springs of ambition 
 for ever. When she intimated that she knew for a surety 
 that Witchell would be killed before six months, he turned 
 upon her with flashing eyes and forbade her to speak to 
 him on such a subject. 
 
 " Cursed be the day that I ever dipped my hands into 
 the foul stream of political intrigue ! " he said. And then, 
 looking at her coldly : " You ask what I am going to do 
 now ? I answer, I am going to return to my senses if pos- 
 sible ; I am going to attend to my legitimate business that 
 neglect has nearly ruined. I am going to care fo" the in- 
 terests and happiness of my wife and children, who are more 
 to me than all the world. I am going to pray them and 
 my God to pardon me for having followed an ignus fatuus 
 that I now know was kindled at the fires of hell and waved 
 by a tempting fiend. " 
 
 His words fell as blows upon her heart. In his angry 
 scorn of himself and her he did not dream what terrible 
 force his words possessed. He had come to think of her as 
 a hardened adventuress, unscrupulous as to crime, caring 
 only for money and power. He thought her passion for 
 him was a mere pretense to gain her ends, as he knew her 
 professed regard for Cobb to be. He had no conception of 
 its intensity — that it was the one true thing in the woman's 
 nature. She had felt death trampling behind her in hot 
 pursuit ; she had faced threats and insults, and horrible 
 fears of discovery and ever-recurring torture of remorse, 
 but despair had never seized her as it did at this moment, 
 when she felt herself scorned and condemned by the man 
 she loved and had sinned for. Yet, wrecked as she felt her- 
 
382 WILD WORK. 
 
 self, she did not lose her self-command, or she lost it for a 
 moment only. For a moment she stood white and rigid 
 as stone, then she smiled in cold derision and made him a 
 mocking obeisance. 
 
 " Include me in your prayer, pious sir," she said. Then, 
 with a bitter sarcasm in her tone, she flung him the rebuke 
 of Mephistopheles to Faust. *^The de^vil that acts, com- 
 mands respect ; the devil that repents, I know of no more 
 mawkish thing." 
 
 She gathered up her shawl and rose. "Farewell; I 
 shall never trouble you again," she said, and she was gone 
 from his sight before he could detain her. 
 
 " Floyd ! " he cried, but she had passed out of the hall 
 and down the steps of the boarding-house, and w^ hurrying 
 along the street as swiftly as though pursued. He caught 
 up his hat and followed her. A revulsion of feeling had 
 come over him. He had not meant wholly to abandon her. 
 She had devoted herself to his interest. For the sake of 
 this devotion he would not let her suffer through want ; 
 and though he was no longer controlled by the spell of her 
 intellect and her physical fascinations, these had not wholly 
 lost their power over him. At a turn of the street he 
 caught sight of her figure flying rapidly before him in the 
 gray November twilight. A picture of her face rose before 
 him as he had seen it just now, when she bent to him in mock 
 reverence, her beautiful mouth quivering with anguish 
 more than sarcasm, her eyes wild and woful behind their 
 mask of flashing scorn. Though he believed this woman 
 to be a beautiful incarnation of evil, he still followed her 
 in the drizzly twilight, and felt a keen uneasiness when he 
 saw her steps were directed toward the river. He was de- 
 tained a moment by an acquaintance ; he broke from him 
 unceremoniously, but he had lost her, and for a time he 
 looked for her in vain. When at last he caught sight of 
 
WILD WORK. 3S3 
 
 her she was standing on a dilapidated, unfrequented part of 
 the wharf, looking down at the black water below her feet. 
 He stood off and watched her. The wind that moaned 
 round the pier lifted her hair and drove a fine mist of rain 
 into her face. 
 
 She stood motionless. A wild impulse to end her life 
 had led her here, but this impulse had been quenched, as it 
 had many times before, by a fear of death, or what might 
 possibly wait behind death. It was probably nothingness, 
 but what if it were not — and if one might meet in the Be- 
 yond the rebuking eyes of those who had been wi'onged 
 and foully dealt with here ! As she looked down into the 
 dark water Jiope looked up to her from the reflection of her 
 own figure. She could see its outlines there — faint but still 
 fair. The beautiful need never despair. There is always 
 love for them — love which is power and hope. Because she 
 had failed more than once, must she despair of success while 
 she had that face, those resources of mind, this will-force, 
 that even Alver had bent to ? She would not give up. 
 The world was wide ; there were many doors that would 
 open to courage, to cunning, and persistence. She would 
 begin a new career ; she would crush out this passion for 
 a man who had shown himself weak and unworthy the 
 prizes to be won by the bold. She had next to nothing 
 in her purse ; no matter, her brain was rich in schemes, 
 fertile in resources that might be coined into money. 
 She would succeed. She would show Alver that she could 
 live in spite of his cruelty. His scorn should not kill 
 her. 
 
 She did not see him as she turned in an opposite direc- 
 tion and signaled a solitary cab that was passing. As she 
 was getting into it, Alver walked rapidly toward her. 
 '^ Floyd!" he called again. She saw him; fierce resolve 
 nerved every feature. 
 
384 WILD WORK. 
 
 " I said to you just now, Farewell for ever. I shall never 
 step across your i3ath again." 
 
 The cab drove away. He was left standing on the 
 wharf, hardly knowing whether he felt more relief or dis- 
 appointment at being thus freed from the woman who had 
 exercised such control over him. 
 
 He found afterward that she took up her abode at a 
 fashionable hotel. He wrote to her and inclosed a bank- 
 note. Letter and money came back to him. She would 
 scheme in various ways to get money, but she would not 
 accept it from him. She won her place on the Varieties' 
 stage by stratagem, as he suspected. But she had not 
 meant a crime this time ; only a trick. It was not poison, 
 but only tartar emetic, which she had dropped in her com- 
 panion's drink. She had determined to do this when she 
 insinuated herself by flattery and delicate service into the 
 actress's confidence, and when she had studied with secret 
 assiduity and rehearsed in the privacy of her own room the 
 favorite role of Miss Duprez. She was radiant with tri- 
 umph to-night. Even small success stimulated her intel- 
 lect and filled her with electric power. Plot and intrigue 
 were vital air to her. 
 
 ** She was born without a conscience," thought Alver 
 as he watched her. 
 
 Another watched her. Her Nemesis was there, and she 
 did not know it. Had she lifted her eyes to the gallery, 
 they would have met a pair peering from under a slouched 
 hat that would have made her quail and falter in her most 
 telling speech. Cobb had remained in concealment until 
 the news came to him that the Cohatchie prisoners were 
 released, and then, unable longer to restrain his impatience 
 to get possession of Floyd, he had followed her to the city, 
 hiring as a deck-hand on a steamboat, and sitting there to- 
 night in the red blouse and wool hat of the roustabout. 
 
WILD WOMK. 385 
 
 He cliewed his tobacco fast and fiercely as lie watched 
 the stage. He shifted his feet restlessly ; drops of sweat 
 stood on his forehead. He would have liked to have leaped 
 on the stage and torn her away from it — this white-armed 
 siren that men were flinging flowers to and admiring 
 through their jeweled lorgnettes. If they dared to inter- 
 fere with him, he could turn on them and say, 'SShe is 
 mine," and defy her to deny it. She would not, in the 
 face of the hold he had upon her — his knowledge of her 
 true name and the crime in which she was implicated. He 
 believed now that she had been deceiving him ; he believed 
 that it was she who had betrayed his hiding-place to the 
 cavalry and led him the closest race for life he had ever 
 had ; but he never thought of giving her up for this. It 
 only stimulated him more in his pursuit of her. He was 
 as fierce in his resentment as in the brute passion he called 
 love. He said to himself that when he had her in his 
 power he would make her pay dearly for all this. He 
 would carry her off to the wilds of Mexico or the Indian 
 Territory, where there would be no men to take her part 
 and go mad over her, and she should see no one but him, 
 know no will but his. He would laugh to scorn her intel- 
 lectual pretensions, and make her feel himself her master. 
 She had better have lain low if she wanted to escape him. 
 He had hunted for her through the city, wherever he dared, 
 during the two days he had been here. 
 
 He had dogged Alver's steps without daring to speak to 
 him, and he was here to-night to look out for his prey, and, 
 lo ! there she was flashing behind the foot-lights. 
 
 " What cheek she has!" he said, grimly. *' Wouldn't 
 it cut her down at the knees, though, if some Texan or 
 Louisianian in this crowd that had knowed her in times 
 past was to get up and hollow out ' Mabel Waters ' ? " 
 
 The thought had scarcely passed through his mind when 
 
386 WILD WORK. 
 
 a voice behind him — a gruff voice that was familiar to him — 
 said : 
 
 "If I didn't know that Mabel Waters was dead and 
 paying the penalty of her sins, if there is any punishment 
 hereafter, I'd say that woman was she. You've heard me 
 speak of her, Hirne — Jim Waters's wife, that helped a fellow 
 to kill her husband after they refugeed to Texas the last 
 years of the war. She and a young Texan, and Waters's 
 overseer, who came with them from bayou Teche, were all 
 implicated in the deed. The young man was lynched, the 
 overseer ran off to Mexico, and the woman got drowned in 
 trying to make her escape ; but that actress just gone off 
 the stage is almost her image." 
 
 Cobb trembled and slouched his wool hat farther over 
 his eyes. In spite of his disguise — the black dye on his 
 red hair and whiskers and his changed appearance — he was 
 afraid he might be recognized by the old steamboat captain, 
 who had known him on the Teche. But nobody noticed 
 him. The play proceeded, and absorbed the attention of 
 the two behind him, or at least of the sailor, for the former 
 steamboatsman had since taken to the sea and had a steam- 
 ship plying between this port and Honduras. Hirne's eyes 
 wandered often from the stage to the profile of a lovely 
 woman occupying one of the seats below. He had come 
 here to-night hoping to get a glimpse of her. He had seen 
 her walking with Eoyal and Kate the day before— the same 
 day of his arrival, and though he believed her to be Roy's 
 wife, he could not resist the longing to look at her again. 
 On the next day but one he was going away. He saw them 
 go into an office where tickets were for sale, found out that 
 they bought tickets for the Varieties that night, and got 
 one for himself and another for an old friend who was with 
 him. He chose a seat in the gallery ; there he could see 
 her with little fear of being seen by her. 
 
WILD WORK. 387 
 
 When the curtain fell on the third act Cobb heard the 
 gruff -Yoiced sea captain say : 
 
 " Hirne, you're not in earnest about settling down and 
 turning granger ? Better go out to Honduras in the South- 
 ern Queen with me. We sail next Thursday." 
 
 '* Don't you think it's time I was done sowing wild 
 oats ?" returned Hirne. ^'I saw a gray hair in my beard 
 this morning. If you had seen the money I paid out for 
 farm supplies, implements, etc., to-day, you'd think I was in 
 earnest about turning granger. My farm — stock ranche 
 and grain plantation combined — can not be beat in the sec- 
 tion where I live. Settle down ! why, a man with a family 
 can't play the Wild Eover well, can he ? " 
 
 '^ Family ! You don't mean to say you're married, 
 comrade ? " 
 
 ''No, I'm not, worse luck for me, but I shall have three 
 children to keep me company — ^two fine, stalwart boys, and 
 a little girl with dark, sweet eyes and a rose-bud mouth — a 
 little beauty." 
 
 "IS'ot your own children, surely ?" 
 
 '^Xo ; their fathers were better men than I ever was or 
 will be. Two of them are poor Parkinson's boys — you 
 remember he fell at Elkhorn at the head of his company. 
 My Jeannie's father was a young adjutant who was killed 
 near Richmond in the last year of the war. Her mother 
 died a few months ago." 
 
 *^ You'll have to marry some good woman for the child's 
 sake, if for no other. I know you've no use for the craft 
 since the one you had in tow wrecked you, and — I beg your 
 pardon, comrade, I didn't mean — I remember — " 
 
 "No harm done," said Hirne, gently. "I've got over 
 that since I saw you last. And I'm not a woman hater 
 any more, Lawrence. I almost wish I was," he added 
 in thought, as at that instant Zoe turned her face to Royal 
 
388 WILD WORK. 
 
 and rei)lied to something he had said with a little nod and 
 a smile so sweet that Hirne inwardly groaned in bitterness 
 of heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 The December sunshine, bright as in April, sparkled 
 over Lake Pontchartrain. A light breeze wrinkled its sur- 
 face, dotted here and there with sailing craft — fishing 
 smacks, trim yachts, and gayly painted pleasure boats. 
 Hirne, standing on the shore, drew a deep breath and lifted 
 his hat as he looked out over the silvery expanse of water. 
 He had sickened of the city, as he was apt to do. This 
 time its atmosphere seemed more than usually stifling, and 
 he was impatient because his business detained him two 
 days longer. He had come out here where the breadth of 
 sky and water and the fresh air were some substitute, for 
 the wild freedom of his own home. A sober family car- 
 riage, drawn by two fat bay horses, bowled up to the lake 
 shore and stopped near the unheeding man. A bright- 
 faced girl looked out and spoke to a man riding on horse- 
 back alongside the carriage. 
 
 '' Oh ! look at the lake ; how lovely ! All crinkling and 
 sparkling. Wouldn't it be nice to take a sail on it ? 
 Couldn't we, Roy ? Wouldn't you like it, Zoe ? " 
 
 At the mention of that name the gloomy man on the 
 bank turned suddenly and saw the dark eyes, not seeing 
 him, gaze out over the lake with something of weariness in 
 their look. And there was a ring not altogether true in 
 the voice that answered : 
 
 " Yes, it would be delightful." 
 
 ''Then I will go and get a boat — just a little cockle- 
 shell that I can manage myself — and we'll take a short row. 
 
WILD WORK. 389 
 
 The carriage can wait for us at your Aunt Margaret's, Flor- 
 ence." 
 
 Hirne recognized the speaker who bent in the saddle to 
 speak to Zoe and her companion in the carriage. This was 
 the man whose happiness he could not help envying — the 
 man he vainly tried not to hate . 
 
 He wheeled abruptly and walked a few steps away. 
 Eoyal rode off, but returned in a few minutes to say that 
 he had obtained a boat. 
 
 ^' It carries four," he said, **and I thought of taking the 
 owner of it with us to help row, as I am a very poor oars- 
 man, but I didn't like his looks. He had a villainous 
 countenance. I guess I can manage the boat myself, espe- 
 cially while the lake is so calm." 
 
 "Certainly you can," Florence asserted with a confi- 
 dence Roy himself was far from feeling. They got out of 
 the carriage. Eoy gave his horse in charge of the little 
 black monkey of a footman who sat behind the carriage, his 
 gay suit and gilt cap-band contrasting oddly with the sober, 
 respectable vehicle of which he was an ornament. 
 
 The villainous-looking boatman brought round his boat, 
 a narrow, sharp-nosed little trick gayly paiijted, and with 
 "Flirt" in red letters on her side. 
 
 "She has a tricksy name," Eoy said as he handed in 
 the two girls. " I hope she'll belie it and be steady-going. 
 For, I tell you again, I am a novice at the oars." 
 
 "Fll show you," Zoe said, laughing, "but we must go 
 only a short way." 
 
 They pushed off, and the man from whom the boat had 
 been hired came up to where Hirne was standing. 
 
 " That younker dips the oars in like he was afeard they'd 
 stir up somethin'. He's not much used to them, sure, but 
 he wouldn't let me go along. I warn't nice-enough-look- 
 ing, I reckon. I only hope nothin' will happen to my boat. 
 
390 yVILD WORK. 
 
 She's a good enough boat when you know how to handle 
 her, but she's narrow, and sets light on the water, and that 
 sail makes her top sorter heavy, so if the wind rises, as it's 
 sure to do toward evenin', he'll have his hands full to keep 
 her right side up." 
 
 Hirne looked thoughtful. He made some unimportant 
 response, and walked away, with more animation than he 
 had shown before. He had not intended to go on the water, 
 but he now went and hired a boat with a boy to accompany 
 him. 
 
 Koyal's party was tempted farther from shore than they 
 had meant to go. A little sail attached to the boat was 
 spread to catch the favorable wind, and the party was in 
 fine spirits until it came time to return. The wind had 
 greatly freshened, and now it was no longer in their favor. 
 The pretty "crinkles," as Florence had called the infant 
 waves, were now large enough to excite her apprehen- 
 sion as they broke against the side of the tiny Flirt, and 
 scattered their spray over her gunwales, which were so low 
 she seemed constantly in danger of dipping water as she 
 rocked and tossed about. The little sail was taken down, 
 and Eoyal gave all his attention to the oars, but he found 
 difificulty in making his boat behave, and he saw he made 
 no headway. 
 
 He grew hot and confused. Florence's frightened face 
 and exclamations of alarm, as the boat careened this side 
 and that, increased his annoyance. 
 
 Zoe was so busy trying to quiet Florence, and to retain 
 her own composure as she saw the wind increasing and 
 Eoyal losing his self-possession, that she did not notice a 
 boat that came straight toward them and drew up alongside 
 the Flirt. 
 
 *^Can I help you ?" asked a man's voice, curtly but not 
 unkindly. 
 
WILD WOEK, 391 
 
 Eoyal looked around sharply. Mortified and annoyed, 
 he was about to giye a testy reply, but the stranger's manly 
 face made him think better of it. 
 
 ** I believe I have got more than I can manage," he said, 
 with a short, vexed laugh. *^ These oars seem bewitched. 
 I wish you had them. I've just been admiring your oar- 
 stroke." 
 
 *^I'll take them," the stranger said. ^^ Here's your 
 money, boy ; take your boat back. Hold her steady a min- 
 ute, till I can scramble over her side ; keep the two boats 
 together one second. There ! " 
 
 With a quick stride he transferred himself into the 
 Flirt. The little boat rocked wildly for a minute, and 
 Florence clutched Zoe with a nervous grasp, but she gath- 
 ered confidence from the looks of the new man, and the 
 cool, prompt manner in which he seated himself and took 
 the oars that Roy was so glad to relinquish. He showed at 
 once that he knew what he was doing by the way in which 
 he righted the boat and sent her steadily ahead with a firm 
 sweep of the oars. Getting over the fright, Florence began 
 to forestall the teasing she expected by turning upon Zoe. 
 
 '^ Why, how pale you are !" she said. ^'And you pre- 
 tended you were not frightened at all, and were so good at 
 scolding me. I never saw you half so white. " 
 
 It was true, but the paleness did not come from fright. 
 Hirne had not once looked around, nor did he glance at 
 Zoe as he stepped into the boat. His voice had sounded 
 familiar to her, but she did not realize it was he until she 
 looked up as he stood a second in the middle of the boat — a 
 tall, strong figure, in carelessly fitting gray clothes, with 
 bronzed neck and gray-blue eyes. How her heart throbbed 
 as the blood rushed to it, leaving her with the paleness Flor- 
 ence had commented on ! 
 
 Not a word did Hirne speak to her during the time he 
 
302 WILD WORE, 
 
 v/as j)ulling for the shore. He seemed taken up with what 
 he was doing, and onl}' addressed a few necessary words to 
 Roy. When the bank was reached he stepped out first, 
 only touching his hat to those in the boat, and hardly listen- 
 ing to Royal's thanks. But he did not go away, as he 
 seemed about to do. He had caught one glance from the 
 dark eyes that held him against his will. He stood a few 
 steps off, irresolute, pretending to look after a jaunty red 
 and black oyster smack that was putting out from the shore. 
 Zoe stepped from the boat and went straight up to him 
 and held out her hand. As he took it his own shook, his 
 face changed color under its sun-bronze. 
 
 ** Were you going away without speaking to me ?" she 
 asked, her smile beaming upon him. He stammered an 
 apology. She had no time to talk to him ; her friends were 
 waiting, wondering at her effusive gratitude to a stranger. 
 She said: ** Come to see me; come this eyening." She 
 put a card with her address on it into his hand, and be- 
 fore he could speak she turned back and joined her friends, 
 looking so flushed and bright that Roy wondered, and Flor- 
 ence said : 
 
 ^'Well, you are rosy enough now at all eyents." 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 When Zoe said to Hirne, "Come to see me this eyen- 
 ing," she had forgotten that she was due at a party the 
 same eyening. As the party was giyen to her, and Mrs. 
 Melyin was going with her, an excuse would be out of the 
 question. She determined to be ready early that she might 
 haye a half-hour for Hirne, if he should come (his cold be- 
 
WILD WORK. 393 
 
 havior made it doubtful) before her cousin, who lingered 
 at her toilet, like all passee belles, should be dressed. 
 
 She lit her candles at dusk and dressed rapidly, though 
 with even more than her usual care. She wore a dress of 
 lusterless silk, canary-colored, with black lace and yelvet ; 
 a few pale yellow Japan lilies in the dark, looped curls of her 
 hair. Her hand trembled as she fastened them in. What 
 if he should not come to-night ? if she should never see 
 him again ? 
 
 A ring at the door brought a rush of color to her cheeks. 
 Lousette came in. 
 
 ^' A gentleman to see you, Miss Zoe j he would not send 
 up his card." 
 
 *' It is Mr. Terrance, very likely ; he was coming to go 
 with Cousin and me." 
 
 '' It's not Mr. Terrance, miss. He's not a city man." 
 
 *' What does he look like ?" asked Zoe, lingering a mo- 
 ment to calm her happy flutter of spirits. 
 
 ^*He looks gentlemanly, but he's not what I call a fine 
 gentleman, like your other beans, miss." 
 
 *^Why, Lousette, what is the difference ?" 
 
 '' He ain't got a slim waist, miss, and his hair ain't bar- 
 berized fancy, and it's pretty rough. Then his hands ain't 
 none of the whitest, and he ain't got any seal-ring on." 
 
 Zoe laughed her old, merry, musical peal. 
 
 "Evidently my visitor is not a fine gentleman," she 
 said ; "thanks to God who made him a man." 
 
 She went down stairs and glided unheard into the parlor. 
 
 There stood the hero of her heart — no fine gentleman 
 Burely, but a noble specimen of the strong, free-limbed 
 man ! He did not see her at first ; he was standing at the 
 chimney-place, leaning his arm on the mantel-piece with 
 his bent head upon it. She came toward him ; her dress 
 rustling softly made him turn. 
 
394: WILD WORK. 
 
 He half staggered. He had never seen her in evening 
 dress ; never seen her beautiful round arms and neck bare. 
 She dazzled him. He drew back the hand he had meant 
 to offer, and bowed stiffly as he stepped back. But she 
 came on to him, her eyes shining, her lips glowing, the dia- 
 mond pendants trembling at her tiny ears, her white hand 
 held out to him. 
 
 The strong man trembled. 
 
 " Don't," he said, motioning her back from him. 
 
 ** You will not shake hands with me ?" 
 
 '^I — Forgive me, madam, I will shake hands." 
 
 He touched her hand with ice-cold fingers. 
 
 Zoe understood. 
 
 "Is this our covenant of friendship? You were not 
 even coming to see me, and yet you said you would surely 
 come." 
 
 '* There was a condition. And the condition, unfortu- 
 nately, is not fulfilled. I was first to get over my folly — my 
 madness. And I have not. I am as mad as ever. I ought 
 not to have come here to-night. You were kind to ask me, 
 but you did not know. We can not be friends ; I could 
 not be harmless as your friend, so it is best we do not meet 
 again. I knew it to-night, but I said to myself, * I must 
 come once to see if she is happy. She did not look alto- 
 gether so at the theatre. And if it should be that he does 
 not prize her as she deserves — ' But it's all right ; you are 
 happy ; your eyes tell me so. Oh ! sweet eyes ! — I must go 
 now — I must go at once. You are going out, I see. I will 
 not keep you. " 
 
 '* Stay," she said, detaining him, laying her ungloved 
 hand on his arm and looking into his face with those ear- 
 nest yet half-smiling eyes. 
 
 He drew away from her almost rudely. 
 
 '^For God's sake, don't touch me ! don't come near me ! 
 
WILD WOEK. 395 
 
 Do you want to drive me mad ? I am trying to be a good 
 and peaceable man, as you desired, but if you look at me 
 like that — you will make me a murderer at heart. This 
 moment I could almost kill the man who claims you as his 
 own." 
 
 "No man claims me as his own." 
 
 " What ! Where is your husband ? Where is West ? " 
 
 **Eoyal West loves another woman. He does not care 
 for me." 
 
 " Not for yoic 9 Impossible. Yet — was that the secret 
 of your sad looks the other night ? Has he dared to make 
 you suffer ? to desert you — to love another better than you 
 — who are the queen of all women ? Then he deserves to 
 have me kill him." 
 
 "No, he does not, for I am quite willing he should love 
 another woman. Indeed, I connived at it." 
 
 " Zoe, is it you can speak this way ? And you a wife ? " 
 
 "There again you mistake. I am no wife." 
 
 " Not married yet ? Then your engagement to West — " 
 
 "Is broken off for ever. He loved another, and will 
 marry her soon — and I — " 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I had long loved another — ever since he saved my life, 
 risking his own ; ever since he held me, fainting and freez- 
 ing, in his arms and infused his own strong, warm life into 
 my frame. Yes, even before that, when I saw him, though 
 wounded and in the power of his enemies, spring to defend 
 a woman." 
 
 "Zoe, speak to me ; tell me, do you mean to give me 
 hope?" 
 
 He was standing before her, pale, panting. He had 
 seized her hands and was half crushing them in his uncon- 
 scious grasp. 
 
 " Do you mean you could love 7ne?^' 
 
396 WILD WORK. 
 
 Under his look slie became suddenly calm, her eyes 
 dropped, the warm color dyed her face, her neck, and 
 bosom, and she said low : 
 
 ** I have always loved you ! " 
 
 He did not clasp her in his arms as another would have 
 done. Down he dropped on his knees. Still holding her 
 hands, he put them over his bowed face, and she felt the 
 hot tears on her fingers. A single sob shook his manly 
 chest. Then he rose and stood up to his full, proud height. 
 He shook the hair back from his forehead ; his eyes shone 
 misty and splendid, filled with unutterable tenderness. He 
 took her in his arms ; he showered kisses on the lips he had 
 never hoped to touch ! 
 
 *'My own," he said at last. *' May God bless your life 
 as you have blessed mine to-night ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XLH. 
 
 Three weeks afterward they were married — a quiet 
 wedding at Mrs. Melvin's, with only a few friends to wit- 
 ness the ceremony, and no relatives but Hugh and his wife 
 and the children, whom Zoe in her letter to Hugh had es- 
 pecially enjoined him to bring. The man'iage was a great 
 surprise. Some of Zoe's friends declared she was throw- 
 ing herself away on an adventurer. Wild tales were told 
 of Hirne's past life, but his proud look, his open brow, 
 contradicted anything that would have called his honor in 
 question, while in his eyes a certain kindly, even tender 
 expression, shading into melancholy, told of generous and 
 affectionate impulses, upon which circumstances had fallen 
 with the effect to chill but not to destroy. Hugh, who 
 thought Zoe good enough for a prince, demurred at first at 
 
WILD WORK. 397 
 
 this marriage with a stranger, but he was won over by the 
 manliness of the man, no less than by the numerous certifi- 
 cates of respectability, and even of high standing, which he 
 brought forward. Hugh found that Hirne had friends in 
 the city among the best of the old proud families — friends 
 who knew him, knew of all his eccentricities and their 
 source, knew of the generous and gentle nature which lay 
 under a surface that had been lashed into turbulence by 
 wrong. They rejoiced in the fair prospect there was now 
 that the current of his life would become clear and flow 
 calmly and beneficently to the end. 
 
 Hirne's pecuniary circumstances came to light in the 
 insight into his affairs which he gave to Zoe's brother. She 
 found that, instead of marrying a man of small means, as 
 she had thought, her lover had large possessions in lands 
 and cattle. 
 
 Two days before Zoe's modest wedding she had been 
 first bridesmaid at a large and fashionable one, where she 
 had seen her merry friend Kate transformed into Mrs. 
 Winter Lareau. Florence Taylor was second bridesmaid, 
 looking extremely pretty in her dress of peach-bloom silk, 
 with peach-buds in her blonde hair. 
 
 Prettier still she looked when, two weeks later, she 
 stood before the priest, a bride herself, little and childlike 
 in contrast to Roy's tall stature, but with a woman's sweet 
 earnestness on her young brow. 
 
 Hirne and his wife sailed for Cuba to pay a visit to Zoe's 
 father. Afterward they would go to New York, take a 
 look at the Great Lakes, the Falls, etc., as bridal pairs are 
 in fashion bound to do, and then return to New Orleans 
 via the great Mississippi and a luxurious steamboat. From 
 New Orleans they would go to Hirne's Texas home. The 
 supplies, to purchase which he had come to the city, had 
 already preceded him ; the provisions, farming imple- 
 
398 WILD WORK. 
 
 ments, etc., had been shipped, together with a big box of 
 presents chosen by him and Zoe for the boys and the little 
 girl Jeannie, whom a good neighbor was taking care of. 
 
 As Zoe was being driven to the levee to take passage on 
 the steamer Citrus for Cuba, she passed an almost close 
 carriage containing a veiled lady. The passing of a funeral 
 procession along a cross-street delayed the two carriages a 
 few moments ; the lady's veil was inadvertently pulled to 
 one side, and Zoe caught a glimpse of Floyd Reese's bril- 
 liant eyes. In that brief glance the eyes of the adventuress 
 seemed somewhat hollow and anxious. She hurriedly ad- 
 justed her veil and sig^ialed that the carriage should be 
 driven on. 
 
 Zoe had heard of Floyd as being regularly engaged by 
 the theatrical company in which she had played during the 
 illness of Miss Duprez. That actress, after a protracted 
 indisposition, had found herself so coldly treated by the 
 manager that, in a fit of anger, she threw up her engage- 
 ment. This was just what the manager desired ; and he 
 immediately offered her place to Floyd. The new leading 
 lady became a favorite at once. She played with a fresh- 
 ness and enthusiasm wanting in hackneyed actors. Then 
 romance threw its rose-colored mist around her history and 
 her present life, enhancing the attractions of her beauty 
 and talents. It was said that she w^as followed and watched 
 by a jealous husband or a revengeful lover, and was con- 
 stantly in fear of her life. She kept her rooms always 
 locked. She saw no company, visited no public places, 
 took no pleasure drives or sails, though invitations j^oured 
 upon her from her admirers. 
 
 She drove to the theatre to rehearsals in the day in a 
 close carnage. In the evenings when she was to play a 
 policeman rode beside her carriage, being assigned that 
 duty on her representing that she was threatened with vio- 
 
WILD WORK. 399 
 
 lence from a certain party. When upon the stage her 
 companions had more than once seen her shudder and turn 
 pale. It was when her look had been drawn irresistibly to 
 the gallery, and she had seen there a dreaded face — eyes 
 that watched her with a sinister blending of hate and sen- 
 sual passion. That face made her life a perpetual dread. 
 Each night her heart stood still as the curtain rose upon 
 her lest she should hear his voice cry, "Mabel Yv^'aters, 
 your career is ended ! " There was the constant fear, too, 
 that some one among the audience might recognize her 
 and proclaim her identity with the Texas refugee, the 
 woman who had been accessory to her husband's murder, 
 and who was believed to have been drowned in flying from 
 the Texas avengers. 
 
 Each night, when Cobb's steady stare drew her eyes to 
 his with a horrid fascination, she saw that his bloated vis- 
 age and bloodshot eyes had grown more malignant. She 
 had refused to see him or to allow him to speak to her, and 
 on several nights he had been repulsed by the police when 
 he attempted to stop her on her way to the carriage which 
 waited for her near the private entrance of the theatre. 
 Once he had resented this, and received five days in the 
 lock-up. 
 
 These things had worked in his revengeful blood, in- 
 flamed to fiercer madness by the hard drinking he had taken 
 to. She feared he would be wrought to the desperate point 
 of giving himseK up to justice that he might denounce her 
 and secure her punishment. He was further maddened by 
 finding he could get no more money from Alver, who, be- 
 fore he had left the city, had thrown him a bill as he would a 
 bone to a dog, and told him to keep out of his sight for ever. 
 
 He found himself unable to carry out his design of get- 
 ting Floyd in his possession. Pinched by necessity, and 
 forced to work on the levee to get money to buy liquor and 
 
400 WILD WORK. 
 
 a ticket for the gallery of the theatre, the man was like a 
 snake pinned to the earth, writhing and lashing himself 
 impotently, and ready to turn his fangs upon himself in his 
 rage and despair. 
 
 Floyd knew well what was passing in his mind, and her 
 dread of him increased. She determined to abandon her 
 present situation, throw away her hopes of fame and for- 
 tune, turn her back on the adulation that was sweet food 
 to her vanity, take what money she had saved, and slip 
 away somewhere — anywhere so that it was out of sight of 
 her watchful enemy. He would not be looking for her to 
 take this move. He knew the company to which she be- 
 longed was soon to leave for Mobile. He expected her to 
 go with it. She had been warned by a dirty scrawled note, 
 inclosed in a bouquet thrown to her on the stage, that she 
 would not be suffered to leave with the company. 
 
 " 'There's a slip 'tween the cup and the lip,' and you'll 
 find the slip, my lady," he wrote. *' Make your arrange- 
 ments if you like, but you'll find me planted in your path. 
 I've stood it long enough, and if you don't come and go 
 with me, according to promise, we'll both go together to 
 Uncle Sam's hotel, or to worse. That's all." 
 
 It was this note that had determined her to abandon her 
 situation and make her escape secretly. She would go to 
 Cuba, or to some other of the West India Islands, or she 
 would stop at some lonesome, out-of-the-way point on the 
 Florida coast — anywhere to be out of the way of Cobb, 
 with the terrible vision of the gallows or the prison cell, 
 which the sight of his watchful eyes brought up to haunt 
 and torture her. 
 
 She reached the wharf five moments after Zoe and her 
 husband had gone on board the Citrus. As slie descended 
 from the carriage two men, dirty and unshaven, were 
 working near her on the levee. One looked up. 
 
WILD WORK. 401 
 
 ^^Dommed if that woman ain't got a foine foot and leg 
 of her own," he said. 
 
 The other looked, started, dropped his crow-bar, and 
 stared at the veiled and muffed lady a moment. Then, as 
 she passed them on her way down to the ship, he muttered 
 to himself : " It's her. There's no other can walk like 
 her. It's that she-devil, I'd almost swear. She's tryin' to 
 get away from me, but I'll follow her. Let me see. Curse 
 the luck ! I've got but one dollar in the world. Well, I'll 
 hire myself and work my passage — no ; I'm tired of the 
 cussed work ; I hate it ; but I've got so shabby that rogues 
 won't have me in their ring. All through her. I've been 
 dodgin' after her, doing black work for her, riskin' the rope 
 and the chain-gang for her, and gettin' paid in deceitful 
 smiles and kisses as long as she had use for me, and now 
 she flings me off, spits on me, thinks I'm too low down to 
 harm her. I'll show her. I'll pay her, if I have to swing 
 with her, or rot with her in jail, though there's not a jail 
 in Texas that could hold me long." 
 
 As these thoughts worked in his half -crazed braiii he 
 was watching the veiled woman greedily. The polite cap- 
 tain had assisted her on board the vessel. As she stepped 
 on the lower deck a puff of wind blew aside her thick veil. 
 She clutched it hastily and drew it over her face, but not 
 before the sunlight had flashed on her white brow and 
 golden hair. The sight maddened Cobb yet more. His 
 eyes shot a baleful flash from their bloated sockets, he 
 ground his teeth into his filthy dyed mustache ; his com- 
 panion spoke to him, but he made no answer. He sat down 
 on a cotton bale, pulled out a dirty memorandum book, and 
 wrote these lines : 
 
 To Captain Lawrence, of the Southern Queen : 
 
 Cobb Watson, the murderer of your old friend Waters, 
 
402 WILD WORK 
 
 and Mabel Waters, his wife, who was accessory to the mur- 
 der, are both on board the Citrus bound for Cuba. If you 
 would punish the guilty, take instant measures. 
 
 He folded this, and, with it in his hand, went up to the 
 mate of the vessel, touched his hat respectfully, and asked 
 if an experienced deck-hand was not needed on the Citrus. 
 Hardly looking at him, the officer answered gruffly that the 
 Citrus had all the hands she wanted. 
 
 ** But if I give you work for nothing — such work as 
 these here can do — " he said, stretching out his stalwart, 
 hairy arms. 
 
 The mate cast his eye around, and was rather impressed 
 by the muscular limbs. 
 
 '^Nothing?" he repeated, gruffly. '^Can 3'ou sleep in 
 a rat-hole with a hard-tack for rations ? " 
 
 The sailors within hearing burst into a laugh. Cobb, 
 with a grin, answered: "Ay, ay, sir." The prompt re- 
 sponse, and the laugh which he took as a compliment to 
 his wit, put the old tar in a good humor. 
 
 *^ Tumble in, then ; tumble in, my hearty. We'll give 
 you a trial. If your work is as bad as your looks, though, 
 we'll turn you into another Jonah sure ." 
 
 Cobb went to the purser's office and bought an envelope, 
 in which he put the slip of paper he held in his fist, and di- 
 rected it to Captain Lawrence, of the Southern Queen. 
 
 Captain Lawrence had delayed sailing for Honduras 
 owing to repairs that had to be made in his ship, which had 
 been injured by being run into by another vessel while she 
 was in the harbor. 
 
 " Ain't you a coming to finish this job ?" asked Cobb's 
 fellow-workman, a burly Irishman. 
 
 "No. I've got another. I've shipped on the Citrus. 
 Comrade, where's your boy ? He brought your breakfast 
 
WILD Vr^ORK 403 
 
 a while ago. lie's a sharp one, and I want him to do a bit 
 of errand for me. Here he is now. Simps, here's a quarter 
 for you if you'll take this letter to Captain Lawrence, at the 
 Southern Queen. Do you know where she lies ? " 
 
 "Sartain I do, and the capVs there a overseein' the 
 workmen. I seen him a while ago. " 
 
 "Well, take him this at once, so he'll get it before the 
 Citrus pushes off." 
 
 The boy nodded, but he seemed in no hurry to go, and 
 rung the quarter against his old jack-knife to test the silver. 
 The Citrus whistled a warning for all to come on board. 
 
 " Go, I tell you," cried Cobb to the boy. " They'll fol- 
 low us," he thought grimly as he hurried on board. Ten 
 minutes after the steamship was on her way. 
 
 She had run for two hours. The "city of one vast 
 plain " was out of sight ; the shores, adorned with white vil- 
 las and green orange groves, had given place to flat marshes 
 and canebrakes ; the river was broadening, sea-like, toward 
 its mouth, when a little steam-tug was seen up stream, 
 puffing as it cut the waters like a teal. It bore down on 
 the Citrus and signaled her to stop. In a few moments it 
 was alongside the vessel ; three men came on board and 
 showed the commander a warrant to arrest two persons on 
 board his ship : one, Cobb Watson, who had committed a 
 murder, and Mabel Waters, who was accessory to it. Captain 
 Lawrence was here to point out the accused, who were well 
 known to him. The captain's usually ruddy visage was pale 
 with excitement. He would not have been so ready to have a 
 warrant of arrest sworn out on the strength of that anony- 
 mous note, had he not twice had a look at Cobb's features 
 during the past week, and, in spite of his disguise, been im- 
 pressed with his resemblance to Watson, the overseer and 
 murderer, as he had been struck by the likeness of the beau- 
 tiful actress to Floyd Reese. This resemblance had haunted 
 
 18 
 
40^1- WILD WORK. 
 
 the mind of the worthy sailor, and troubled him no little. 
 He hailed the note as a possible solution of the mystery, 
 and was determined to pay all expenses in order to get at 
 the facts in the case. 
 
 Cobb was found and identified as Watson, the criminal, 
 and handcuffed at once. 
 
 '^I^ow get the woman," he said. *'She is up stairs in 
 the cabin, being quality," and he laughed maliciously. 
 
 They started in search of her. She was on deck, enjoy- 
 ing the sunset and the admiration her beauty excited among 
 the male passengers. 
 
 Miserable as she felt, full of forebodings that fevered her 
 brain and thronged her sleep with horrible dreams, she yet 
 found men's admiring looks a sweet elixir. She stood lean- 
 ing on the railing, the sunset reflection making her fair 
 skin more dazzling, her plenteous hair more like spun red 
 gold. The fine molding of her bust, her arms, and limbs 
 was apparent under the soft clinging dress of gray. She 
 knew men were looking at her with quickened pulses. She 
 was thinking, " Once in Cuba out of reach of that wretch, 
 I will make all this white and red and gold of mine serve 
 me in good stead. Those meager, swarthy Spaniards will 
 lose their senses over my white, plump beauty. It shall 
 buy me a rich old Don for a husband, and I will reign in 
 the tropic capital a sort of queen." 
 
 Hanging over the railing, watching the sunset-painted 
 waters, and building these gilded castles, she heard not the 
 first tokens of the approaching Nemesis that would throw a 
 black pall over castles and castle-builder. She heard not 
 the hail of the steam-tug, and only wondered a little at the 
 sound of confused voices below that presently drew the men 
 away who had been watching her with lazy admiration as 
 they stood or sauntered about. She was left alone upon 
 the deck. An excited voice within broke her reverie, and 
 
VflLD WORK. 405 
 
 brought her to the door of the cabin to find out what was 
 the matter. A negro waiter, his eyes round and big with 
 news, was telling that a tug had overtaken the ship, and 
 the sheriff and some more men had come on board and 
 arrested a man named Cobb for murder. "And now," he 
 went on, "they're comin' up to git the other." 
 
 "Another man to be arrested, you say ?" asked Floyd, 
 in sharp, quick tones from the door. 
 
 "No, miss — no man at all ; t'other one's a woman : Ma- 
 bel Waters, I hear 'em call her. Here dey come up stairs 
 now !" 
 
 Floj^d glided from the door like a specter ; round to the 
 rear part of the boat she darted ; looked one instant, with 
 clinched hands and convulsed face, upon the dark, foam- 
 streaked waters below, and crying, "God, if there be a 
 God, have mercy on what you made !" she threw herself 
 over the railing. There was an echoing plash, and the 
 dark waters closed over the fair face for ever. 
 
 The officers of justice found no Mabel Waters on whom 
 to serve their w^arrant. Cobb, when he learned her fate, 
 dropped his head in his hands with a groan. The re- 
 vengeful feeling that had driven him to betray her at his 
 own cost died out, and left him gloomy and sullen. He 
 never suffered on the gallows. He died of malignant fever 
 ten days after he was committed to prison for trial. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 WiTCHELL had been disappointed in his efforts to pun- 
 ish the slayers of his brother and his friends. The disap- 
 pointment was a keen blow to him, but he gave no sign. 
 His pride and his stern determination forbade him to give 
 
4ij6 TTYZZ> WORlu 
 
 up his ofiice and have no more to do with the people who 
 had shown such opposition to his rule. He determined to 
 go back among them, to carry on his business as of old, to 
 levy taxes, control courts, and be supreme in administrative 
 matters as he had been before. Eule he would, as he had 
 once said, "if not by good will, then by force." It was the 
 only stimulus left for him, since Death had laid its destroy- 
 ing hand on the best of love and friendship that had been 
 granted him — such love and such friendship as had seldom 
 been given to a man. All that had been soft in his nature 
 hardened into iron now, and the man who once more rode 
 through the streets of Cohatchie was a stern and smileless 
 man, w^hose eye had the cold flash of a bayonet, whose brow 
 never relaxed, whose voice uttered only necessary words in 
 hard, metallic accents. 
 
 He was here at this time to superintend the collecting 
 of taxes. They should be placed in his hands as formerly ; 
 and he was rigid in exacting every dollar that could be 
 claimed. He rode occasionally from his home to Cohat- 
 chie unarmed and unguarded, unless when, at his mother's 
 intercession, some friend, armed with gun or pistol, joined 
 him and rode beside him under some friendly pretext. 
 
 One heard that Witchell had at last returned unaccom- 
 panied by his guard of troops — one who had hoarded up 
 revenge against him for years. Lanier had not gone back 
 to Mexico. He had hidden in the lake swamp until dis- 
 covered and forced to fly. But he had not gone far. He 
 was just within the Texas border when he learned that the 
 man he hated so vindictively had returned to Cohatchie 
 and rode at large, unprotected by cavalry. He came back 
 at once. 
 
 He lay in wait several days for his prey. At last he saw 
 Witchell ride up to the opposite bank of the river with one 
 Kane, who had married an elder sister of Witchell, long 
 
WILD WORK. 407 
 
 since dead. Tlirough a screen of trees he watched the two 
 leave their horses fastened to a tree on the upper bank, enter 
 a boat that had a negro oarsman, and proceed to cross over 
 to the Cohatchie side of the river. When they were in 
 the middle of the stream, Lanier rode out from the trees, 
 pointed his repeating gun at Witchell, and fired. The ball 
 struck Witchell in the side with such force as to knock 
 him backward into the water. Wounded, but not mor- 
 tally, he clung to the side of the boat with both arms. 
 Lanier took aim again and shattered one of his enemy's 
 arms. Still he clung on with the other. Once more the 
 gun was raised, but Kane had now recovered from his first 
 shock, and, seizing his own gun, sent a bullet at Lanier. 
 It grazed his forehead. He laughed derisively, shook back 
 his wild hair, covered Kane with his weapon, and fired, 
 killing him instantly. Another shot in quick succession 
 shattered Witchell's other arm, and, loosing his hold, he 
 dropped back into the water. 
 
 ''For God's sake, don't shoot any more ! Both de men's 
 dead," the negro shouted. 
 
 The madman laughed again. 
 
 *' Well, they'll make better buzzard's meat than State 
 officers any day," he called back. He wheeled his horse 
 and rode deliberately away. 
 
 Witchell was not dead. As soon as Lanier turned from 
 the bank the negro drew the mangled man from the blood- 
 dyed waters and laid him in the boat beside the corpse of 
 Kane. He was taken back to his house and laid down in 
 the same room where Adelle had closed her dark eyes for 
 ever. Both arms had to be amputated, and for weeks he 
 hovered on the border land between death and life. His 
 suffering was borne with the stoicism that characterized the 
 man. That his life was spared was due to woman's faithful 
 nursing. Marshall Witchell could never lack the love and 
 
408 ^^^^ WOEK. 
 
 care of woman. Some strange magnetism in this cold, re- 
 served man drew women to him. 
 
 This one, who nursed him for love as never a menial 
 would have done for gold, was young and fair, with a 
 delicate refinement in looks and manner. She hurried to 
 his hedside across a distance of a thousand miles so soon as 
 she knew that he was wounded. She sacrificed friends and 
 reputation that she might keep life in his mutilated body. 
 She hung over him day and night, turning aside her head 
 to hide her tears when she saw his white lips crushed to- 
 gether with mortal pain, or saw his dreary smile as she 
 put to his mouth the food or the water he had no hands to 
 take for himself. 
 
 It was a bitter fate ! He, who had so gloried in his 
 strength and soundness of limb, who had been as active of 
 body as of mind, who had so many proud purposes mapped 
 out— to be henceforth helpless, dependent upon others 
 even to raise his food to his lips, to wipe the sweat of an- 
 guish from his brow. 
 
 No arm to execute the prompting of that quick brain, 
 that indomitable will ! All his ambitious hopes for ever 
 in the dust ! 
 
 The woman who watched him so devotedly shuddered 
 as she saw his lips writhe and his brow work with the bit- 
 terness of that thought. At such times she would fling 
 herself on her knees by his bed and pray for him through 
 her tears— pray to the Mother of Sorrows, in whose inter- 
 cession she believed. Maimed as he was, he was dearer to 
 her infatuated heart than friends or home or her own fair 
 fame as a woman ; and when she saw the faint hue of life 
 stealing into his marble face she dropped tears of joy upon 
 the locks she daily combed away from his temples. 
 
 He did not marry her ; he was grateful, but his heart 
 was too deeply seared for any tenderer feeling to take root in 
 
WILD WORK. 409 
 
 it. He would bury himself in solitude ; no eye should see 
 his humiliation. He resigned his place in the State Sen- 
 ate ; he went back to his New England home. But there 
 was no balm in solitude ; no rest in idleness. His spirit 
 chafed at the inactivity of his lot ; recollection embittered 
 the lonely hours. At last he accepted an office he had before 
 refused — that of minister to a foreign Court. He quitted 
 his native shores, saying to himself, with grim satisfaction, 
 that it was for ever. 
 
 Alver moved away from Cohatchie. The place was 
 haunted by associations he could not bear to face. He set 
 up his new vine and fig-tree in a remote portion of Texas. 
 There he has retrieved his wrecked fortune. Few of those 
 about him know his history. He is respected, looked up 
 to ; a group of noble boys are growing up around him. 
 Abroad he wears the same proud, inscrutable face, though 
 his cheek is worn and his eye hollow. At home he is sub- 
 ject to fits of gloom. Only his gentle wife can soothe him 
 when these dark moods are upon him — when he hears the 
 croaking of the raven that will not '^take its form from off 
 his door." 
 
 In the same grand State live Zoe and her *^ wild rover" 
 — now a peace-loving citizen and a happy and useful man. 
 The fire of his nature is subdued, not extinguished. Enough 
 of the old vim and enthusiasm remain to make him a leader 
 in those progressive movements in education, agriculture, 
 and manufactures which are fast giving Texas a foremost 
 place among the States. Hirne's marriage is a most happy 
 one. His strong, rugged character finds its best supple- 
 ment in the tender, yet vivid and elevated, nature of his 
 wife. 
 
 It is just six years this summer of 1880 since the tragic 
 event on which this story turns took place near the little 
 river-side town of Cohatchie. In this brief time the spirit 
 
410 WILD WORK. 
 
 of Change has moved strongly over the South. The turbu- 
 lent, transition period is over ; the appeals to mob law have 
 ceased. The people have learned to assert their rights 
 more wisely ; the Government to regard them more care- 
 fully. Bitter exj^erience has taught these lessons. Mutual 
 sympathy and understanding open a fair prospect of union 
 in more than name between the two sections of the Repub- 
 lic. In a little while our children will look back with 
 wonder to the "dark era of carpet-bag rule." A picture 
 of that time, even imperfect as this, may then be of interest 
 as a curious study ; and, since history repeats itself, and 
 governments and society move in circles, such a picture 
 may be valuable as a warning. 
 
 THE END, 
 
A SnRRIHG AMEEICAH KOYEL. 
 
 M A N C H 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By MARY E. BRYAN, 
 
 Editor of the " Sunny South." 
 
 One vol., 12n:\o. Clotlx. - - - Price, $1.50. 
 
 "I regard it as one of the most interesting and thrilling Etories I ever read," 
 —Alexander H. Stepheks. 
 
 " The story is strongly dramatic and admirably handled. It is told with gref.t 
 vigor and skill; its dramatic incidents are presented dramatically; the char- 
 acters of its personages are cleverly discriminated ; in a word the workmanship 
 of the pieae is in the main so ^ood as to justify us in saying that the author has 
 positive gifts as a novelist." — l^ew York Evening Post. 
 
 "A story of wDd border-life. It is sensational, working constantly to cli 
 maxes, thrilling in many portions, arousing the sympathies of the reader, and 
 holding his attention to the endy— Chicago Tribune. 
 
 "The plot is intricate and the interest breathless."— iVew York Herald. 
 
 " The interest of the story is maintained until the close."— iVew York Evening 
 Express. 
 
 "Its characters are made to stand out boldly and distinctly; its plot is a 
 strong one with no minor parallel threads to detract from its power. Arousing 
 interest at the beginning, it sustains and increases it to the finale without relax- 
 ation. Its motion is consistent, and at times intensely dramatic. In less skill- 
 ful hands it might have been called sensational ; in those of Mrs. Bryan it is an 
 effective piece of art. The style is colored with the warm glow of the creole. 
 It is tinged by the touch of a rich poetic temperament, and occasionally sur- 
 prises one with a unique figxire or a dainty fancy. But it is not weakly effeminate 
 or florid ; on the contrary, it is characterized by more of strength than accom- 
 panies the work of most women."— Zowm^i/^ Courier-Journal. 
 
 *' 'Manch' is intensely dramatic from beginning to end, and while it is pos- 
 sible that the character of the child, whose name gives the book its title, might 
 have been made more vividly picturesque, it is nevertheless invested with a 
 pathetic interest all its own. In brief, 'Manch' is a strong story— strong in its 
 plot, strong in its suggestions, and wholly original. We believe it will be one 
 of the moBt marked literary successes of the season."— ^wg'us^a Chronicle. 
 
 For eah by all bookselkrs ; or sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price. 
 
 T>. APPLETON & CO.. Publishers, 1, 3, & 5 Bom) St., New York. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The Land of Gilead. 
 
 With Excursions in the Lebanon. By Laurence Oliphaxt. With Illus- 
 trations and Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth. $2.00. 
 
 "His journeys took him quite off the beaten tracks of tourists and archseo- 
 logical explorers ; he e:ot an ' inside view,' so to call it, of native life and man- 
 ners; he saw something of the wandering Bedouins; and we know of no recent 
 book on Palestine which is really so instructive, from which the reader can de- 
 rive so large a fund of entertainment."— JS'c/ec^tc Magazine. 
 
 Anecdotal History of the British Parliament. 
 
 From the Earliest Periods to the Present Time, -with Notices of Eminent 
 Parliamentary Men and Examples of their Oratory. Compiled by 
 G. H. Jennings. Crown 8vo. Clcth, $2.50. 
 
 " As pleasant a companion for the leisure hours of a studious and thoughtful 
 man as anything in book-shape since Sclden.— London Telegraph. 
 
 " It would be sheer affectation to deny the fascination exercised by the ' An- 
 ecdotal History of Parliament.'"— /Saft/rrfay Review. 
 
 Young Ireland. 
 
 A Fragment of Irish History, 1840-1850. By the Hon. Sir Charles 
 Gavan Duffy, K. C. M. G. New cheap edition. 12mo, cloth, $1.60. 
 
 "Young Ireland" is a memoir of the few stormy years in Ireland during 
 which O'Connell was tried and convictedof conspiracy, and Smith O'Brien tried 
 and convicted of high treason, written by one who was in succeseion the fcUow- 
 
 ?ri8oner of each of them, and has seen since a remarkable career in Australia, 
 'he bi)ok is founded on the private correppondence of the leading men of the 
 period, and throws a searching light on the Irish politics of the present day. 
 
 '• Never did any book appear so opportunely. But, whenever it had appeared, 
 with so lucid and graphic a style, so lar^e a' knowledge of the Irish question, 
 and so statesmanlike a grasp of its conditions, it would have been a book of 
 great mark."— 2/0»do?i Spectator. 
 
 A History of Greece. 
 
 From the Earliest Times to the Present. By T. T. Timayenis. With 
 Maps and Hlustrations. 2 vols., 12mo, cloth, $3.50. 
 
 "While I cheerfully acknowledce my obligations to Gibbon and Grotc— the 
 most eminent of modern historians— a careful study of the Greek writers has led 
 me to differ from them on many important matters. The peculiar feature of the 
 
 E resent work, therefore, is that it is founded on Hellenic sources. I have not 
 esitated to follow the Father of History in portraying the heroism and the sac- 
 rifices of the Hellenes in their first war for independence, nor, in delineating the 
 character of that epoch, to form my judgment largely from the records he has 
 left \ia.''— Extract from Preface. 
 
 History of Herodotus. 
 
 An English Version, edited, with Copious Notes and Appendices, by 
 George Rawlinson, M. A. With Maps and Illustrations. New 
 edition. In four volumes, Svo. Vellum cloth, $8.00. 
 
 n. APPLETON <^ CO., Publishers, I, 3, dr- 5 Bond St., New York. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The New Nobility. 
 
 A Story of Europe and America. By J. W. Forney, author of " Anec- 
 dotes of PubUc Men," etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Colonel Forney has written an exceedingly clever and entertaining story. 
 The reader will have little difficulty in surmising the import of its title : he will 
 hardly need to be told that the members of the new nobility are those able, ener- 
 getic, dauntless, and self-made men who are the strength and glory of this Ee- 
 public. The dialogue is particularly bright ; the descriptions of European life 
 are vivid and truthful, attesting the extensive acquaintance of the author with 
 society and letters:' —Fhiladelphia North American. 
 
 Lady Clara de Vere. 
 
 A Novelette. From the German of Friedrich Spielhagen. Appletons' 
 
 " New Handy-Volume Series." 18mo. Paper, 25 cents. 
 
 The story was undoubtedly suggested by Tennyson's famous poem, "Lady 
 Clara Vere de Vere." 
 
 All Alone. 
 
 A Novelette. By Andre Theuriet, author of "Gerard's Marriage," 
 "The Two Barbels," etc. Appletons' "New Handy-Volume Se- 
 ries." 18mo. Paper, 25 cents. 
 
 Mary Marston. 
 
 A Novel. By George MacDonald, author of " Robert Falconer," 
 
 " Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood," etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The merit of the book does not lie in the plot, but in its thoughtful observa- 
 tion of the world we live in— what it is, and what it might be. ' Mary Marston ' 
 is a fine work, which may be read and pondered over with a view as much to 
 improvement as amusement. There is nothing careless or slovenly about the 
 drawing of any character, nor yet about any other part of the book. *The author 
 is evidently too thorough to send his work forth to the world in a condition less 
 good than the best he can make it:''— Londcm, Spectator. 
 
 Great Singers. 
 
 Second Series. Malibrax — Schroder-Devrient — Grisi — Viardot — Per- 
 siANi — Alboni — Jenny Lind — Cruvelli — Titiens. By George 
 T. Ferris, author of " Great Singers," First Series, " The Great 
 German Composers," etc. Appletons' " New Handy- Volume Se- 
 ries." 18mo. Paper, 30 cents ; cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 D. APFLETO.V 6- CO., Publishers, i, 3, <5r- 5 Bond St., Nau York. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Beaconsfield : 
 
 A Sketch of the Literary and Political Career of Benjamin Disraeli, late 
 Earl of Beaconsfield. With Two Portraits, from a Sketch by 
 Maclise, in 1830, and from a Drawing by Sir John Gilbert, in 1870. 
 By George M. Towle. ("Xew Handy-Volume Series.") ISmo. 
 Paper, 25 cents ; cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 Thomas Carlyle : 
 
 His Life — his Books — his Theories. By Alfred H. Guernsey. (" New 
 Handy- Volume Series.") 18mo. Paper, 30 cents ; cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 Ruskin on Painting. 
 
 With a Biotrraphical Sketch. ("New Handy-Volume Series.") ISmo. 
 Paper, 30 cents ; cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 Stray Moments with Thackeray: 
 
 His Humor, Satire, and Characters. Being Selections from his Writings, 
 prefaced with a Few Biographical Notes. By William H. Ride- 
 iNO. ("Xew Handy- Volume Series,") Paper, 30 cents; cloth, 
 60 cents. 
 
 The writings abound with delif^htful little essays and incisive bits of satire 
 and humor, many of which in this volume have been brought together as a sort 
 of literary banquet of Thackerauian tidbits. 
 
 Lord Macaulay : 
 
 His Life — his Writings. By Charles H. Joxes. ("New Handy-Volume 
 Series.") ISmo. Paper, 30 cents ; cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 A Short Life of Charles Dickens, 
 
 With Selections from his Letters, By Cftarles H, Jones, author of 
 "Macaulay: his Life — his Writings," ("New Handy-Volume Se- 
 ries.") ISmo. Paper, 35 cents; cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 The work is an attempt to give, in a compact form, such an account of the 
 life of Dickens as will meet the requirements of the general reader. Lib* ral ex- 
 tracts are made from the letters of Dickei.s, in order that, so far as possible, he 
 may depict himself and tell his own story. 
 
 A Short Life of Gladstone. ^ 
 
 By Charles H. Jones, author of " A Short Life of Charles Dickens," 
 " Macaulay," etc. ("New Handy-Volume Series.") 18mo. Paper, 
 35 cents ; cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 " In two hundred and fifty pages, the author has succeeded in giving a clear 
 impression of Gladstone's career, and, what is better still, of his personality. 
 Extracts from his speeches and estimates of his literary work are given, and an 
 excellent feature of the hook is its short but significant citations from the press, 
 which help the reader to see the great statesman through the eyes of his contem- 
 poraries, both friend and foe:"— Boston Courier. 
 
 D. ArPLETON ^ CO., Publishers, i, 3, &^ $ Bond St., Nov York. 
 
 ^ 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 170