"That's my affair; you have nothing to do but obey orders," was the haughty rejoinder.
Lyttleton knew that Nell was out of town, and now was glad that it had so happened, as he did not care to meet her again, yet felt that it would not look well for him to leave the place without a parting call on the family.
He met Clendenin coming away, passed him with a cold bow, and joined the major who was still on the porch, its sole occupant as before.
"What you, too, sir?" he exclaimed, when Lyttleton had explained the object of his call. "The doctor was in but now to say that he leaves unexpectedly in the early morning; but it seems that you are making even greater haste to forsake us. Coming back again, I hope."
"Doubtful, my good sir, and I must leave my adieu to the ladies with you, regretting deeply that I could not deliver them in person," Lyttleton said, lying with a glibness that was the result of long practice.
He tarried but a few moments, and again the major was left to his solitary meditations, which now ran upon the question whether Nell had aught to do with the sudden migration of these two admirers of hers. He could not tell, for the girl had kept her own council in regard to her feelings toward them, and Lyttleton's offer of the previous day.
CHAPTER XXVI
Dale was in his office, very busy with some writing, when Lyttleton looked in.
"Excuse the interruption, Mr. Dale," he said, holding out his hand, "but I did not like to go without saying good-bye to you and the doctor. He, however, I find is not in."
"Good-bye! you're not going to leave Chillicothe to-night, are you?" cried Godfrey in surprise, as he laid down his pen and took the offered hand.
"Yes; immediately, Hans has everything packed, and the horses saddled and at the door. Had a letter from home to-night, and find I must tarry no longer. Please give my respects and adieus to the doctor," he added, as he hurried away.
"I wonder he's not afraid to risk travelling with only that rascally looking servant, who might rob and kill him and nobody any the wiser," thought Dale. "Well," he remarked aloud, resuming his pen, "I suppose it's no affair of mine."
Was it a haunting doubt of Hans's fidelity or some other motive that led Lyttleton to turn to him, as they left the town, and bid him ride by his side instead of behind him?
However that may have been, he kept a sharp watch upon his valet's movements.
Presently he took him into his confidence in some degree, partially unfolding a plot to get Clendenin into his power, and securing the Hessian's co-operation by the promise of a bribe.
They pressed forward all that night and the next day, pausing only for a short rest when their horses showed signs of exhaustion.
The greater part of the way was very lonely; they had met no one since early morning, when toward the close of the day they overtook a man mounted on a sorry nag and jogging along in silence and solitude; a villainous looking fellow, in whom Lyttleton at once recognized one of his intended tools; whose acquaintance he had made on the outward bound journey of some months ago, and whom he had casually discovered to be an enemy to Dr. Clendenin.
It was in fact Brannon, who had never forgotten or forgiven the part Kenneth had had in his conviction of the theft of the great-coat, handkerchief, and shirt, abstracted from the dwelling of the Barbours.
Lyttleton hailed him with, "Hello, Brannon, you're the very man I was wanting to see."
"And who may you be?" returned the fellow surlily, showing a scowling face as he glanced back over his shoulder at the speaker; then suddenly wheeling his horse across the narrow path so as to bar their further progress, "What do you want with me?" he demanded in a tone of one who feels himself at enmity with his kind.
"To furnish you with a bit of employment very much to your taste," answered Lyttleton.
"And what may that be? Ha, I remember you now, the English gent that was a goin' out to Chillicothe some months back, and had so many questions to ask about Dr. Clendenin. Curse him! Well, did ye find it all out?"
"It?"
"Yes, it, whatever you wanted to know."
"Yes; I found out, what I suspected before, that he is very much in my way: and – but before I lay my plans open to you I must have your promise, your oath of secrecy."
"Them's easy given," the fellow answered with an unpleasant laugh; "I promise and swear never to tell no tales consarnin' what you're agoin' to say."
"Very well. Clendenin is travelling in this direction, with no companion but a young negro servant who, I take it, is neither very brave nor strong."
A malicious gleam of satisfaction shone in Brannon's eyes.
Lyttleton noted it with pleasure.
"We could not have a better opportunity," he went on; "you who have an old score against him, and I who find him as I just said entirely too much in my way."
"What are you at, mister, out with it plump and plain," Brannon said with an impatient gesture and a volley of oaths, as Lyttleton came to a pause and looked hesitatingly at him. "I ain't no fancy for this 'ere beating about the bush. Is it his life you want, or not?"
"No, no; I'm no murderer!" Lyttleton exclaimed with a shudder and a fearful glance from side to side. "But patience, man, and I'll explain in a few words. We'll call this doctor a mad fellow, perhaps it isn't so very far from the truth, ha, ha, and we'll take him prisoner, and keep him such somewhere in these woods until I can make arrangements to remove him to a mad house."
Brannon listened with a grim smile.
"But look ye here, stranger," he interrupted, "what if he should get free and peach on us?"
"We must take care that he doesn't; and I'll make it worth your while to take the risk. Can you get help in capturing him?"
Brannon nodded. "Here comes one now that'll bear a hand willingly if you give him his price;" and as he spoke he waved his hand toward a tall, burly figure just emerging from the wood a few paces from them.
"Dree of us," muttered Hans, watching its approach; "dat ish pooty goot; and mynheer, too; dree, four against two. We takes dem brisoner mitout fail."
The last comer was drawing near with long and rapid strides.
"What's that?" he asked sharply and bringing his rifle to his shoulder. "Ah, is it you, Jack! what's up?"
"Yes, it's me, Bill Shark," answered Brannon. "Come on; here's a gent as has a job suited to the likes of us."
As the fellow came near enough for a distinct view of his features, Lyttleton involuntarily shrank from him, so brutal and forbidding was their expression.
But recovering himself instantly, he repeated substantially, and under the same promise of secrecy, what he had been saying to Brannon.
"I'm your man, if we can agree on the terms," was the rejoinder. "I'll want a pretty stiff price, mind ye, stranger, for it's like to be a risky business, more so than if ye wanted him put clean out o' the way; for 'dead men tell no tales,' you know."
Lyttleton shook his head.
"No, no, I can't stain my hands with blood, his or that of any other man."
The ruffian regarded him with a brutal sneer and a muttered sentence, of which the only audible words were "white livered coward."
Lyttleton writhed under the charge but dared not resent it. In fact he began to feel himself in a perilous position; darkness was already settling down over the forest, he had not full confidence in his valet, and these others were evidently unscrupulous scoundrels.
"How much ahead are you, did ye say?" queried Shark.
"I think we have the start of him by from six to eight hours," replied Lyttleton. "Besides, we have pushed on more rapidly than he would be likely to, as you may judge by the condition of our horses."
"H'm! then he'll most likely be along here about this time, or a trifle earlier, to-morrow, stop fur his lodging at Brannon's, just above here, a little back in the woods, or at my shanty five miles furder on. 'Twont make much difference; whichever he stops with, the other'll help entertain him. And, stranger, we kin turn out purty strong on occasion. I've two strappin' sons and a nevvy, and the old woman can lend a helpin' hand too, when she's wanted.
"S'posen' you and Brannon and this other feller come over home with me now, and let's talk it over. We'll determine just what's to be done, and I'll set my price."
Lyttleton had felt a cold chill running down his spine during this speech and at the moment would gladly have put many miles between him and what he began to suspect was an organized band of robbers and cut-throats.
But evidently it would not do to show fear. Carefully steadying his voice, he courteously thanked Shark for his invitation, but declined it on the plea that they all, himself, Hans and both their horses, were in sore need of rest; for which reason they would stop for the night with Brannon; his house being so much nearer. This seemed satisfactory and thither they all went.
CHAPTER XXVII
The sun had not yet risen, and few of the townspeople were astir, when Kenneth and his faithful Zeb set forth upon their journey.
They rode slowly through the almost deserted streets, the master in seemingly absent mood, quiet and thoughtful even to sadness, the servant glancing briskly from side to side with a nod and grin for each visible acquaintance with whom he felt himself upon terms of something like equality.
"Good-bye, Tig; dis heyah niggah's off for Glen Forest," he shouted as they passed the major's.
Tig, who was cutting wood in the kitchen door-yard, dropped his axe to gaze after them in wondering incredulity.
"Oh, you go 'long wid yo' tomfoolin'," he muttered, as he stooped to pick it up again, "'taint no sech ting; and the doctah ain't never goin' so fur, 'tout sayin' good-bye to our folks; and Miss Nell she's away whar he can't git at her. 'Spect I knows who's powerful fond of her, and who tinks he's mighty sight nicer'n any ole Britisher."
They were early risers at the major's, and Mrs. Lamar having retired the previous night several hours before her usual time, had slept off her fatigue and found herself ready to begin the day earlier than was her wont.
From her chamber window she, too, saw Kenneth and his attendant ride by.
"Why, there goes Dr. Clendenin equipped as for a journey, valise, saddle-bags and servant!" she exclaimed, addressing her husband who was still in bed.
"Yes, he's off for Pennsylvania."
"For Pennsylvania, it's very sudden, isn't it?"
"Yes; he had bad news last night, sickness in the family I believe, that hurried him off in great haste. He called to bid us good-bye, but found no one but me.
"But you will be more surprised to hear that Lyttleton left town last night in obedience to a summons from England. He, too, called and left his adieus for you and Nell."
Mrs. Lamar faced round upon the major a face full of astonishment, not wholly unmixed with disappointment and vexation.
"Gone!" she cried, "actually gone for good! I must say, Percy, that I am completely out of patience with Nell."
"With Nell, pray what has she to do with it?"
"She has rejected him. I suspected it before; now I am sure of it. News from England indeed!" and she turned away with a contemptuous sniff.
"Possibly you are correct in your conjecture," the major remarked, recovering from the surprise her words had given him; "but if she has rejected Lyttleton, she had a perfect right to do so, and I am inclined neither to blame her nor to regret her action."
"Why it would have been a splendid match, Percy, and such a chance as she is not likely to see again."
"Not in my opinion. He seems to be wealthy, but I do not admire his character. And it would have robbed me of my little sister, taking her so far away that I could hardly hope to see her again in this world. I should far rather see her the wife of Clendenin."
"I gave that up long ago," returned his wife in an impatient tone, as she hastily left the room.
"I believe something has gone wrong between them; I wonder what it can be," soliloquized the major while making his toilet, and at the same time taking a mental retrospect of such of the interviews of Nell and Dr. Clendenin as had come under his notice.
But having no proclivity for match-making, and no desire to be relieved of the support of his young sister, whose presence in his family he greatly enjoyed, he shortly dismissed the subject from his thoughts.
Not so with Kenneth; as he passed the house he involuntarily glanced toward the window of her room, half expecting to catch a glimpse of the face dearest and loveliest to him of all on earth, then turned away with an inward sigh, remembering sadly that each step forward was taking him farther away from her.
Very much cast down he was for a time, having had in Hans's story to Zeb, that his master was but going away temporarily for the purpose of making suitable preparations for his approaching nuptials, what seemed confirmation strong of the truth of Lyttleton's assertion that he was Nell's accepted suitor. But ere long he was able to stay himself upon his God, and casting all care for himself, and those dearer than self, upon that almighty Friend, resumed his accustomed cheerfulness and presently woke the echoes of the forest with a song of praise; Zeb, riding a few paces behind, joining in with a hearty goodwill.
They had left Chillicothe far in the rear and the nearest human habitation was miles away.
They made a long day's journey and bivouacked that night under a clump of trees on the edge of a prairie, and beside a little stream of clear dancing water.
It was Clendenin's intention to be early in the saddle again, and great was his disappointment on the following morning to find Romeo so lame that a day's rest just where they were was an imperative necessity.
It was a strange and perplexing dispensation of Providence; yet recognizing it as such, he resolutely put aside the first feeling of impatience as he remembered how sorely he was needed at Glen Forest; how the dear ones would be looking and longing for his coming. There must be some good reason for this apparently unfortunate detention, so he submitted to it with resignation and passed the day not unpleasantly or unprofitably in reading; it was his habit to carry a pocket volume with him while travelling, or wandering through the adjacent wood.
They were able to move on the next day, but only slowly, as the horse had not fully recovered; and while halting for an hour's rest at noon, they were, to their great delight, overtaken by the other party from Chillicothe.
It consisted of three merchants, Messrs. Grey, Collins and Jones, and a stalwart backwoodsman and hunter, Tom Johnson by name.
They also were much pleased at the meeting, which they had desired but hardly hoped for, though they had set out a day earlier than had been expected, the merchants hastening their preparations when they found that by so doing they would secure the company of the hunter, who for fearlessness, strength, and skill in the use of fire-arms, was a host in himself.
Each merchant carried his money in his saddle-bags, and the whole party were well armed.
Greeting Clendenin with a glad, "Hello!" they hastily dismounted, secured their horses, and joined him, producing from their saddle-bags such store of choice provisions as made Zeb's eyes dance with delight, for the lad was in his way quite an epicure.
The sight of the goodly array of weapons of defence, and stout arms to wield them, gave him scarcely less pleasure, for Zeb's courage was not always at fever heat.
"Golly, massa doctah!" he exclaimed, showing a double row of white and even teeth, "I 'spec's we needn't be 'fraid no robbahs now. Gib um jessie ef dey comes roun' us."
"Best not to be too jubilant, Zeb," said his master; "you and I may have to fall behind because of Romeo's lameness."
"No, no, never fear," said the others, "we are not going to forsake you, doc, now that we have joined company."
They did not linger long over their meal and were soon in the saddle again, riding sometimes two abreast, at others in single file, but always near enough for exchange of talk.
Kenneth bore his own burden bravely, was quite his usual cheerful, genial self, and no one suspected what a load of sorrow and anxiety was pressing upon him.
They journeyed on without mishap or adventure, and late in the afternoon came to a two story log dwelling standing a little back from the road, or rather trail, for it was nothing more.
There was nothing attractive about the aspect of the house or its surroundings, but the sun was near his setting, the next human habitation was in all probability ten or fifteen miles further on, and the way to it lay through a dense forest where, doubtless, panthers, bears and wolves abounded.
A moment's consultation led to the decision that they would pass the night here if they could get lodging in the house.
An elderly woman of slatternly appearance, hair unkempt, clothing torn and soiled, had come to the door.
"What's wanted?" she asked in a harsh voice.
"Shelter for the night for men and beasts," returned Clendenin, who had been unanimously chosen leader of the party.
"Well, I dunno 'bout it, I haven't no man about, but if ye'll 'tend to yer beasts yerselves, yer can stay."
They agreed to the conditions. She pointed out the stable, and they led their horses thither, curried and fed them, remarking to each other, meanwhile, that they did not like the woman's looks; she had a bad countenance.
She had gone back into the house, and as she moved here and there about her work, muttered discontentedly to herself,
"There's too many o' 'em. Bill, he won't like it. But I wonder if the right one's among 'em. Wish I knowed."
Hearing their voices outside again, she stepped to the door.
"Ye'll be a wantin' supper, won't ye?"
"Yes, let us have it as soon as you can, for we're tired and hungry."
"She mout put some pizen in de wittles, massa doctah, don't you tink?" whispered Zeb, close at Kenneth's ear, and shuddering as he spoke.
"If you think so, it might be as well to watch her," was the quiet half-amused answer.
"Dat I will, sah!" and Zeb bustled in and sat himself down between the table and the wide chimney, where he could have a full view of all the preparations for the coming meal.
The woman scowled at him and broadly hinted that he was in the way, but Zeb was obtuse and would not take a hint.
He watched her narrowly as she mixed corn-bread and put it to bake, as she made the rye coffee, and fried the ham and eggs. It would have been impossible for her to put a single ingredient into any of these without his knowledge.
Nor did he relax his scrutiny until he had eaten his own supper, after seeing the gentlemen safely through theirs.
"She mout put sumpin into de cups wen she pours de coffee," he had said to himself.
It did not escape him that she listened with a sort of concealed eagerness to every word that was said by her guests, and that she started slightly and looked earnestly at Dr. Clendenin the first time he was addressed by name in her hearing.
"What shall we call you, mother?" asked the hunter, lighting his pipe at her fire for an after supper smoke.
"'Taint perticlar, ye can just call me that, if ye like," she returned dryly.
"You don't live here alone," he remarked, glancing at a coat hanging on the wall. "Where's your man now?"
"Off a huntin'. Where's your woman?"
"Don't know, hain't found her yet," he laughed, taking the pipe between his lips and sauntering to the door, outside of which his companions were grouped.
The air there was slightly damp and chill, but far preferable to that within, which reeked with a mixture of smells of stale tobacco, garlic, boiled cabbage and filth combined.
It was growing dark.
The woman lighted a candle and set it on the table, muttering half aloud, as Zeb rose and pushed back his chair:
"I'm glad you're done at last."
Then she bustled about putting the food away and washing her dishes.
Johnson finished his pipe and proposed retiring to bed, as they wanted to make an early start in the morning.
A general assent was given and the woman was asked to show them where they were to sleep.
She vouchsafed no answer in words, but taking from the mantel a saucer filled with grease, in which a bit of rag was floating, she set it on the table, lighted one end of the rag, picked up the candle, and motioning them to follow her, ascended a step-ladder to the story above; letting fall drops of melted tallow here and there as she went.
Reaching the top of the ladder, they found themselves in an outer room that had the appearance of being used as a depository for every sort of rubbish.
Crossing this, their conductress opened a door leading into a smaller apartment, communicating, by an inner door, with still another.
There was a bed in each and a few other articles of furniture, all of the roughest kind. Dirty and untidy in the extreme, the rooms were by no means inviting to our travellers, but it was Hobson's choice, and they found no fault to the hostess.
"You white folks kin sleep in them two beds," she said, with a wave of her hand toward first one and then the other, "and the nigger, he kin lop down outside on them horse blankets, if he likes."
And setting the candle down on top of a chest of drawers, she stalked away without another word.
"Massa doctah, and all you gentlemens, please sahs, lemme stay in heyah," pleaded Zeb in an undertone of affright. "Dat woman she look at me down stairs 'sif she like to stick dat carvin' knife right froo me."
No one answered at the moment; they were all sending suspicious glances about the two rooms, and Zeb quietly closed and secured the door.
"Ki! massas, jus' look a heyah!" he cried in an excited whisper, and pointing with his finger.
"What is it?" they asked, turning to look.
Zeb sprang for the candle, and bringing it close showed a small hole in the door.
"A bullet hole, sure as you live," exclaimed Grey, who was nearest.
"And exactly opposite the bed," added Jones, stepping to it and beginning to throw back the covers.
In an instant they were all at his side, and there was a universal, half suppressed exclamation of horror and dismay, as a hard straw mattress, much stained with blood, was exposed to their view by the flickering light of the candle, which Zeb in his intense excitement had nearly dropped.
They looked at those tell-tale stains and then into each other's faces. A trifle pale at first most of them were, but calm and courageous.
Clendenin was the first to speak.
"We have evidently fallen into a den of thieves and murderers, but by the help of the Lord we shall escape their snares."
"Yes, we'll trust in God, boys, and keep our powder dry," said Grey.
"And Heaven send us a more peaceful end than some poor wretch has found," added Collins, pointing with a sympathetic sigh to the gory evidences.
"We must keep a sharp lookout, for we may depend that thar hunter'll return to his wife's embraces afore mornin'," remarked Johnson, grimly.
They at once set about making a thorough examination of the rooms, but found nothing more to arouse uneasiness, except the fact that the window of one opened out upon the roof of a shed, by means of which it was easily accessible from the ground.
Then their plans were quickly laid. They would all occupy that one room, and take turns in watching, two at a time; thus giving to each about two-thirds of the night for rest and sleep.
The arms were examined and every man's weapon laid close at his hand, ready for instant use.
These preparations completed, Grey turned to Kenneth, saying softly:
"Doc, we seem pretty well able to defend ourselves in case of attack, but it wouldn't hurt to ask help from a higher Power."
"No," said Kenneth, kneeling down, the others doing the same; then, in a few appropriate, low-breathed words, he asked his Father to have them in his kind care and keeping, and if it was His will grant them safety without the shedding of blood.