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Xft-Vw Warwick of the Knobs y usuca Warwick of th( Knobs ^ Stary of Stringtown County, Kentucky By John Uri Lloyd Author of " Stringtown on the Pike," "Etidorhp.," "The Right Side ' of the Car," etc. I \ With PholoKr-phic Illustrations of Knob County Toronto W. J. Gage & Co., Limited 1901 Copyright, igoi, By Douo, MiAs and Compakv. All righit rttervtd. THE EURK PRINTING HOUSE, WEW YORK, I I PREFACE Repeatid and persistent questionings con- cerning t' ,; section of our country introduced by these Stringtown Novels must be the author's I justification for the following somewhat personal J ascription. This land is not, as many persons suppose, a creation of the imagination. It is as real as boyhood home can be to the man whose nearest and dearest ties of love and kinship have ever been therein. The scenes are laid in pictu- resque Boone (Stringtown) County, Kentucky, where are to be found exceptionally fertile soil, magnificent scenery, and features of rare interest to historians as well as to naturalists, some of which may be briefly noted. Passing from Cincinnati down the gorge that marks the great bend in the Ohio River, we reach the glacier cliflfs known as "Knobley" and "Split IV Preface Rock," which, below Petersburg, lie on the Ken- tucky side of the river adjacent to the mouth of Woolper Creek. It was here that the buffalo roads from the north and the west crossed the Ohio, and here, near this famous paradise of the red hu„t„, ihe Indians were lying in ambush the lU-fated day in 1781 that the massacre of Colonel Ixiughrey and his troops took place. From Knob- ley to Hamilton, Kentucky, the Ohio runs prac- tically south. Between these points, to the west. He the rugged hills or knobs (Warwick's coun- try) m and among which flow Middlecreek, Gun- powder and Big Bone creeks, their branches all headmg i„ the high interior ridge, along the crest of which nms the Lexington and Covington (btnngtown) pike. This formation is all of fos- sil linestone. Against these knobs the Arctic gkciers expended their energies, and to a distance of from three to six miles inland may be found glacier debris, often on the very top of the heights Thus It IS that granite boulders and gravel from the far north overlie the uplifted native forma- t:on, while above the bases of some of the knobs in the sands that possibly formed the shore of the ancient ocean, lie extensive beds of coprolites Preface y some of enormous size, telling the story of gigan- tic prehistoric reptilian life. Long after these time-lost periods, possibly contemporary with the mound-builders, who sub- sequently lived, reared their clay monuments and died, but left no written word, this land became the home of the mastodon. That is shown by the bones found in the quagmire or jelly ground of Big Bone Springs, where, in the heart of the knobs, the great beasts were entrapped by the bot- tomless mud, to perish. And if may be added that in early settler days such bone relics were also abundantly scattered over the surface of the ground about these famed saline sulphur waters. That these historic knobs and bottom-lands were the scenes of the battles between the Indian tribes is affirmed by the many battle-field burial-places thereabout, concerning which the grave-covered top of Mount Pisgah overlooking Gunpowder Creek, and the cemeteries in the valley below and elsewhere, speak volumes that are the more im- pressive by reason of their tantalizing silence. This fascinating land, in which is crushed so much of life and action, so much to hold the mind of one who likes to ponder the past, seems to J VI Preface I have been predestined to passion, turmoil and struggle. The stone-cast evidences of Natures convulsions, the fossil relics touching mighty forms of prehistoric life, the deeds of savage valor suggested by the Indian name of the coun- try, the struggles of the white pioneers and set- tlers, the part its people have taken in statesman- ship and in war— these and other things that we need not name to the reader of fVanvick of the Knobs are the record which this highland that lies between the North and the South bears engraved in its soil, its rocks, its traditions, legend: and people's hearts. Of necessity, however, the story of Warwick utilizes only such of these features, both natural and historical, as can be touched without weight- ing it with scientific details or other technicalities- for a work which has for its direct object the pic- turing of human life and incident cannot do more than excite a thirst for such knowledge. To persons who may be directly interested in historical events, social conditions and the local scenes presented or involved, the author ventures to suggest a personal journey to the section where the novels are laid. It should, however, be re- Preface vii menibwed that the incidents dq)icted in this story of Warwick are drawn from those momentous times forty years ago, when in this section of our country fact needs but be slightly, and often not at all, disguised, in order that it may parade as fiction. To the foregoing, which so imperfectly de- scribes the home of the "Stringtown Novels," the author finds it essential to add a word concern- ing the creed of the personage whose name gives the title to this volume. In this direction also it must be confessed that only the most cursory touch is possible, certainly nothing need be added concerning the lesson to be drawn from his life and action. And yet, increasing interest in the faith of Warwick leads the author to feel that a few fortral words may be of service. In Kentucky fifty years ago the religious sect to which Warwick belonged was an influential body of frugal, industrious citizens of unimpeach- able integrity. Although in numbers the organi- zation dwindled as the years passed, the zeal and the faith of its membership, their devotion, their reliance on the Bible as they interpret its precepts, their faith and honesty, are as strong to-day as in VIll Preface the past. Be it added, however, that decreaiing number* give them little concern and no alarm, for, as they accept, "if such is, it is because God has so electett." If one have any spirit of toleration, and will re- flect over the exemplary conduct of those "Old School or Bible Baptists," their uncompromising perseverance and their determined aggressiveness in behalf of God's law as interpreted by them- selves, their steadfast faith in the midst of trials which can never become grievous enough to dis- turb their religious fervor, will be seen to stand to them a living monument and before others an enduring object lesson. The distinguishing religious title preferred by Warwick's people was and yet is "Old School, Predestinarian. or Bible Baptist," but other names both offensive and cruel are freely and thought- lessly bestowed upon them by careless or un- friendly outsiders. Among the titles recorded are Old School Baptists, Primitive Baptists, Old Vir- ginia Baptists, An ;-Means Baptists, Bible Bap- tists, Hard-Shel! Baptists, Iron-Side Baptists, Foreordination Baptists and Predestinarian Bap^ tists. Preface IX In Warwick'* day hit *., .1 was alert and a^- gresiive, being especially opposed to the "Mii- iionary Baptists,'' an ori;anizatiun that at f^'st wai a dissenting fragment of their own peop'e. The manner in which they handled these and all re- lated sects is shown by a typical editcnal note which is here quoted from "The Signi of the Times," 1837: "At the present moment we have among u», bearing the Baptist name, those who hold nearly every sentiment which has been esteemed hetero- dox and corrupt by the Baptists of past ages, Bap- tists who, like the gods of old, have come newly up. Witness the Seventh-Day Baptists, the Free- Will Baptists, the General or Open Communion Baptists, the General Atonement Baptists, the Fullerite Baptists, the Campt)el!ite Baptists, with many other kinds, whose sentiments are as dis- cordant and confused as that of their more ancient brethren, the builders of Babel." The author feels justified in emphasizing the fact that Warwick's people refuse to accept out- side money for the church. They oppose .Sunday- schools, Sunday contributions, revivals and prayer meetings ; they do not tolerate the solicit- • X Preface in,f of funds for any purpose whatever connected with man's salvation, and they take no donations for fur'hering religion or to convert the heathen, a rock that is largely responsible for splitting frotn them the Free-Will or Missionary Baptists. Indeed, they are particularly opposed to mission work, believing that interference with the re- ligions of other people and nations in the face of God's Word as they view it concerning predesti- nation, is not only futile but wicked. While in Warwick s day his people were much given to doctrinal diKussions, the author has in these pages carefully avoided all controversy or retort other than in the interview between War>vick and an outsider. Judge Elford, his aim in this direc- tion being simply to pict. re stubborn Elder War- wick's theological doctrine and mode of life as shown by his own deportment in the face of trials which might well test the faith of any man, but which the author hopes he endured .is becomes the duty of such as hold his faith. And in this con- nection the author takes exr»otional pleasure in frankly thanking the members of the Old School Baptist Church for voluntarily placing at his com- mand an abundance of editorials, sermons, life I'reface xi hiitorict and other print* concerning their tcct v-hich very materially fortify hit previouily formed viewi concerning a people to whom re- ligion it not a pattime, a people whote sterling worth even to thote oppoted tu t!ieir theological doctrine ttan>lt engraved in the hearti of all who know thctn. J U. L. CONTENTS CHAnu. I. The House of Warwick, II. The Yellow Flood, III. The "tranger IV. Warwick's Oath. "I Swear it, John," . V. Mary and Lionel, VI. The Church on the Island- Warwick's Trials Begin, Vll. The Charge Against Warwick, VIII. "Disgrace Hangs Over the House OF Warwick," . IX. "Your Father, Mary, Has Brought Shame to the Name of War- wick," . X. "I am a Warwick, Sir. The Honor OF My Father is at Stake," PACE. I 13 21 33 39 45 64 81 88 94 XIV Contents CHAPTU. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. That John Morgan Might Live. A Warwick's Sacrifice, A Letter, .... "Ot.CE More the Shadows Flick- ered," ..... "Tell My Father that I Stood AS A Warwick Should, and Died as a Warwick Should Die," "Pap's Himself Ag'in," . The Return of Spring, . "Let's Have the Mercy Text," The Story of Warwick's Daugh- ter, ..... Joshua Bids Farewell to the Home on the Knob, The Stringtown Grocery and the Village Circle, Warwick's Interview with Judge Elford, .... Warwick's Sermon in His Hour of Darkest Trial, "Pap, Can't You See thet I'm Home Ag'in ?" . "Let's Go to the Next Room, Pap," .... 107 120 128 138 ISO 155 160 164 180 190 216 237 257 262 Contents XV CHAPTM. pj^„ XXV. "Sister, th-se Things What's Comin' Are FiiR Men to Hear," .... 273 XXVI. "Pap, the Last Warwick of the Knobs is a Coward," . . 283 XXVII. "Form, and Voice, and Knob WERE Gone," . . . 300 I ILLUSTRATIONS * J"*''"" (.Fr^HlUflec.) A Knob '■"°J Gunpowder Creek before reachinR the Knob Land 31 Gunpowder Church on the Island. Built in 1851. Ruins of the old Stone Church in the rear . . 51 Baptismal Pool In Gunpowder Creek, by the side of the old Stone Church on the Island .... 61 The IIo ise in whicli General John Morgan was secreteJ ■86> ,05 The Great Cliff ' Where the road cuts through a bed o£ Coprolites near Mt. Pisgah „3 Big Bone Church. "The Graveyard on the Hill " 1,9 Scene in Knobley. Glacier Stone ,j. Through a little village went Warwick .... ,9, The Cabin is empty again j„ " Warwick, with left hand on the rude pulpit and right arm extended,—" j,„ Where Warwick, the Lonely Old Man of the Knobs, read his Bible „. Buftalo Wallow by the side of the Old Buflulo Road . 265 Where Joshua crossed the river on his return from the North 38g • The fhotographic scenes are by Mrs. John Uri Lloyd WARWICK OF THE KNOBS CHAPTER I. THE HOUSE OF WARWICK. High upon one of the knobs of Stringtown County stood the home of Preacher Warwick. One would have to go far to find a mc ' pictu- resque situation. Whichever way one looked there was something to charm the eye — a knob or a hillside, a valley, a gulch or a glen. To an art- ist or a poet the scene would have been a delight and an inspiration, but to Warwick it was noth- ing. From childhood the panorama had been be- fore him. These hills and valleys, these wood- lands, creeks, bluffs and stone croppings were commonplace to one reared as he had been in a house on the uplifted knob that commanded a view of the distant Ohio hills on the far north, the Warwick of the Knobs Indiana bluffs to the southwest, thj great ridge upland that bisects Kentucky on the east, and a horizon bounded everywhere by objects miles and miles away in the hazy distance. In this home Warwick, large and muscular, a stalwart specimen of manhood, sat one afternoon. Before him there was a worn leather-backed Bible, the Bible that had come down to him through the hands of three generations of War- wicks. He was studying intently thi page that had gladdened the eyes of his father and his father's father, and of that father's father; that had comforted many weary hearts in the diy when the pioneers of Kentucky needed consolation such as could come from no other source. When the Virginia colonists marched and fought with Washington in the dark days of the Revolution, ihat booir had been a solace to a Warwick, and even before, it had been treasured by a Warwick who served in the old French wars. On the opposite side of the room from War- wick sat his daughter, a girl of barely seventeen years, presenting in her timid gentleness a strik- ing conirast to his harsh and stern character. Hers was a strangely attractive face, framed in The House of Warwick ringlets of hair which hung down to her shoul- ders. The daughter seemed as much absorbed in her own thoughts as \Varwicl< was intent upon his study of the Word. From time to time, however, she raised her eyes, looking toward her fatlicr al- most beseechingly. But not once did \\'arwick give her a glance in response. At length she crossed the room and stood before him, but he still kept his eyes upon the page of tlie book. Hesitatingly and with a timid uncertainty of movement, the girl dropped on her knees by his side, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. "Father, forgive me for disturbing you now, but I have been waiting long." "What is it, daughter?" "Father, it has been six years since mother died, six yars to-night." The man closed his book. "Six -ears since she passed into eternal life, my child." "The years have been long to me, father ; they grow more lonesome as they pass." "This should not be. Think of all that you have to be thankful for — Have you felt the need of food or clothing?" Warwick of the Knobi "No." "Of warmth in winter ?" "N'o, fatlifr." "I las any one been trying your patience ? Hat your brotlier worried or annoyed you ?" She shook her head. "You have been spared sickness." "All that is true, father, and yet I am very lonesome." "My daughter," said Warwick coldly, "six days in the week have you to ^pend in study, reading, recreation; you have food in plenty, clothes for comfort; a loving brother, a watcliful father, and, best of all, twice each month the chance to go to meeting and he. the blessed word of God." "Were my mother living, would she have said : This is all my daughter needs?' Would—" the girl hesitated and then continued : "May I speak, my father?" The face of the man grew stern. "Go on child," "Would it be wrong for me to tell you of a dream that came to me night before last ?" "Tell it. child, \either good nor harm can come from dreams." The House of Warwick "I dreamed that my niuther came to my tide while, h Hiking at a pleasure party, I sttxxl in the path near the creek road. She api^arcd as she dill when I was young and she was well. Her hecks were red and she was smiling. She seemed to be speaking to me and to be asking: 'Why is my daughtci- not wiili the young people?' " The girl stopped »uddenly, and looked into her father's face. "And you replied?" "That it was wicked to frolic and dance and sing songs, such as these young people sang." "Right, my child. And then?" "May I tell you? My father, you will not be out of patience with me for repeating the words that mother seemed to be saying in the Jream?" "Go on, a dream is but a dream." The girl lowered her voice and glanced about timidly. "She said : 'Say to your father that the passing of these young people will mark the beginning of his afilictions, unless he makes his God lovable, his religion enjoyable, his daughter's pleasure and happiness a part of his thought ; unless he lets her ! jgh and sing with young people such as Warwick of the Knoba the»c. Say to your father that hr fcart too much the clevit— • " "Stop, " »aul Warwick, ilif voice, deep and hoarte, rang through the room. The girl, in affright, »hrank back. "Forgive me, my father. It was only th« dream." "Say no more, for no more will I hear." "The dream is gone, my father, and lo are the roies in my mother's cheeks. But the following day, the day after the dream, ..an. .he yo.mg people I had seen, the very same w gon, the same faces, the very boys and girls, who had been laughing and singing. But perhaps it was only chance." Then abruptly she changed the subject, "I am very lonely my father. Would it be wrong for me to see some things outside .hese knobs ?" "Did I not send you to boarding-school ?" "There were many girls in school, only girls. It was only on Sunday mornings that we could leave the grounds, and then a teacher led our line, and a teacher close followed it. We walked to church, two and two, and then back to the school ; it is better to live in the knobs than to be watched .IS if one cotiid not be trusted." The House of Warwick 4 A shadow and a frown came over her father's face. "Have you any other grievance? he asked coldly. Rising and clasping her hands, the girl looked him full in the face. "Father, these things that I have mentioned are not grievances. I long for change of scene, for the company ot other young folks. I wish to act like other girls, to be one of many. I crave to go to a dance, to the Stringtown Fair, to a circus. Is it wrong to wear a ribbon in my hair, or a bright dress ? Does not the wild bird, fresh from God's hand, sing? In our thickets are blue, and yellow, and even cardinal red birds ; did not God make them bright in feathers, and — " "My daughter," interrupted Warwick, "the artful devil has many methods to catch the un- wary. Beware of the frivolities of youth. Shame comes at last to such as these." "Please lisven to me, father. Yesterday, when that wagon, filled with girls, and a troupe of young men on horseback passed in the road below us, one of the girls looked toward where I stood, and then the others glanced at me; the wagon stopped and a young „,a„ rode to the path and drew his horse beside me." "And what did he say?" asked Warwick, lean- ing over and scanning her face closely "He asked me to join the party. He said that h y were gomg to Big Bone Springs for a picnic, that there was room in the wagon, and that they would see me safely home." "And you ?" "I told him I could not go. because you, my father, do not approve of such things. But that day was very dreary to me, and to-day is more than lonesome. Last night I dreamed again of the faces m the wagon, and in my dreams it was not my mother that came, but the young man I dreamed that I, too. was laughing and singing and m the wagon with the others. I was very adTeL.-' "' "' ''""' '* "" ' ^'•^-' °"'y "Let it continue to be a dream. God grant my daughter, that it may ever be a dream " ' Father, no girl comes to my home, I have neither company nor society. I love you very ..ry much. I do not wish to annoy you, but It' would be such a joy to me, and I would not love The House of Warwick II you any less, could I just for once go to Big Bone Springs with a party such as this party of the dream seemed to be. May I not, my father?" "Daughter," replied Warwick, "put aside these frivolities. They are temptations that the devil sends. No credit are they to the young persons of whom you speaK, and who will yet sup of sorrow. Such company would disgrace the daughter of your father. 'Vanity of vanity, all is vanity.' These young people sin in God's sight. They do unrighteous things, of which you have no knowledge, and which, while I live, shall never be a part of your life. Worldly music, frolicking, dancing, are an abomination to the Lord. Never, never, I say, shall the daughter of Warwick take part in such unholy acts. Child of mine, you, who enjoy the manifold blessings God has show- ered on your path, and yet openly crave for un- hallowed joys, know that your father would rather see you in your shroud than the member of such a party. The devil, I say, tempts the unwary. Turn your thoughts to holy things; sing the 373rd hymn ; pray to God for strength, my child. Listen to the words of the sacred text : I ji Warwick of the Knobs 'It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting.' " The girl kneelcl, and buried her face in her hands. The man turned to his Bible. Just then a sheet of lightning flashed across the cloud that had loomed out from the southwest, and was immediately followed by a shock of thunder that shook the house and made the knob tremble. The unexpected interruption seemed to remind War- wick ot a neglected duty. He rose, strapped a pair of rawhide leggings about his ankles slipped a small Bible and hymn-book into a pai^ of saddle-bags, and started for the door. I CHAPTER 11. THE YELLOW FLOOD. Evening had not fallen, yet the room had suddenly become darkened by a leaden gloom- shade, such as in this section of our land falls occasionally on the hills and valleys when, of a sultry afternoon, the upstarting clouds close in from the southwest and lose themselves among the knobs, cliffs and gorges. With legs encased in yellow leggings, an'' slouch hat drawn firmly over his forehead, ./arwick was ready to take his departure. In one hand he held a short cowhide riding whip, in the other the well-worn saddle-bags. His daughter had Ijegun a final plea when a crash of thunder, like a mate- rial object, seemed to strike against the house and then thumped and bounded and rolled away in the distance, as if gigantic balls were bouncing from knob to knob. The girl drew back, and her face grew white. Warwick seemed not to notice '4 Warwick of the Knobs her fright, nor to hear the thunder crash. With a rough kmdness he stroked her hair as she stood, pleading, between the door and himself Tut, tut. child," he said, "many is the time your father has gone forth into sforms hard^ tha,Mh,s one. What harm can a drop of water "But, father, wait imtil the storm is over." Warwick shook his head. "You do not know what IS best, child." At that moment a vivid sheet of lightning streamed mto the window, lighting up her face I am so afraid ! Do not leave me now " ^ And h., it come to this.v the father replied. Have my teachmgs left you, my daughter, alto- g«er without faith.. Do you, forlhom Te hea of your father has ever gone in supplication to the great God abov^o you, who should know nght from wrong, if ever child knew it not comprehend that if the good Lord has elected hat m,„ ,hall die of lightning stroke, no human hand, no mortal power, can avert the end'" "But the flood, the water is coming down in m;ttht:""^^'^°^^^«°-^"^'---"'^-n" The Yellow Flood «5 "If a man is born to be drowned," said War- wick, "he will never die in any other way. If a man is not destined to be drowned, he cannot I drown. Child, you do wrong when you question ' God's power to direct these things. You are I impious when you attempt to persuade your j father to shirk his duty. Did I not announce that evening services would begin this day at early candle-light? Never yet did Preacher Warwick fail to keep his word to the Lord. It is written, 'When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee; and through rivers, they shall not overflow thee.' " The girl threw her arms about the form of her father, her head hardly reaching to his shoulder. "Do not leave me alone in this storm, please do TOt. Others will not go to church to-night." "Daughter, God sent this storm for some beneficent purpose, and the same God bade me announce services this evening. You say that others will not go to church to-night. Then so be It. Alone in the holy sanctuary, I shall pray for timid sinners who shrink from a touch of water. Go I must, if for no other reason than to plead for you in God's holy house-for you i6 Warwick of the Knobs wlio see not the devil's allurements, who doubt the power of God to direct men's fcxjtsteps ac- cordmg to the foreordained plan. Daughter kneel, and beseec/- he great God of Hosts to give you the strength to trust in His all-wise power and m His love for man, a sinner. God knows best why, in His loving mercy, He directed me. His servant, to announce services this evening God knows, too, why this storm of lightning- stroke and flood was sent. God only knows why these things are, but if they arc, they are for the best, and that alone concerns me. His trusting servant. That which was ordained in the begin- ning must be." Carrying his saddle-bags. Warwick passed out of the door into the storm, which now seemed to have centred itself about the very knob upon which his house stood. The girl sank upon her knees beside a chair, burying her face in her hands, while the wind and rain, mixed with hail broke forth with increasing fury. Amid the interlocked gleam of lightning-strokes fast fol- lowing each other, and the thunder crashes, that were as a medley of blows and snaps and long- drawn-out rolls, the man on the horse passed The Yellow Flood '7 cautiously down the hill, toward the bank-full creek at its base. Siowly, step by step, the horse picked his way along the rocky path, which was now threaded with yellow rills, down to the creek-road, into which the path merged, and passed under the angry torrent, which now filled its channel and crept over the banks. Without hesitation the well-trnincd beast stepped into the water, slowly advancing, step by step, over the uneven, flat stone bottom, until the feet of the rider were covered by the flood. Suddenly Warwick drew the reins, turn.' his face up the stream, placed his hand behind his ear and listened, as if to catch a sound that the storm and rushing water ren- dered indistinct. After listening for a moment he backed his horse out of the flood, and, turning up the stream, he forced his way along the bank, peering closely and anxiously at the seething torrent. At a spot where the water eddied in a deep pool, he saw a man clinging to the top of a snagged tree's trunk, which, with roots caught in the earth, swerved back and forth as the circling water swept its i.ee end from side to side. The unfor- i8 Warwick of the Knobs tunate stritggler possessetl strength enough, it was evident, to cling for a time only, with just voice enough to cry out weakly. The chances were that he would not lie heard, or even if he were that no one c^uld do more than wait on the bank, and watch the rushing waters loosen the cli -|> of the weakened arms and close over the body. The struggling beast on which Warwick rohort distance above the tree tnmk to which the man was clinging, he turned hi^t horse's head toward the flcKxl, and with another cut of the whip forced him into the waters. Then followed a wonderful display of horse- manship, human courage, and animal faith in man, to which, however, the Kentucky knobs and wilds alone were witness. Breasting the floo ". th„ .lay ,K,h to listen to Satan ami trvTo . war. .1. la. „, ,,, „^..^,,^ ^^^^^M Pn. . and then r,se up firm in strength an,! f^i.h u.npurp..e. ready henceforth to Su,::;;^^^ , , ,"'• """Klucr, c.,,,1,1 your father have " '""' '" >■"-'■ »PP*a.. the voice of the man , whirh ; . • '"'' P''' ""''^"landing. That CHAPTER III. THE STRANGER. There came an interruption from without, a youth entered the room, hesitating a moment in the ''arwick running out? A girl trying to induce her father to disobey the Lord for fear of a drop of rain, a toy afrnid to wet his face in a summer sliower?" He paused, and. pointing to the man on the chair: "Son. take this wanderer to your room, give liim a welcome such as is due to one in distress—one who has been guided to our iiome by the hand of the aa Warwick of the Knobs I c^nt ? f^ The minister stepped to the cupboard, and, taking a flask from a chest of bot- les poured the liquor into the goblet and held it o the hps of the stranger, who endeavored vainly to swallow the potion. With a show of im- patience, Warwick filled the goblet and drained it to he last drop, suggesting next that it might be well to heat some water and make the stranger a weak whiskey punch or an eggnog Then he went agam mto the storm, which now had decreased n mtens,ty. and turned his horse down the path oward the torrent, which, high above the bank raged through the gorge. Beyond this ford othe^ angry torrents were to be crossed r)efore he could reach the little church on the island, where he «nH.'r"r"'l '"'■"' '"^^^ "'«''' -' early candle-hght. That he succeeded in his obj«t and returned m safety was seen the next morning when he sat, as usual, at the head of his table and asked a blessmg that contained no allusion to his own trials or privations. Four persons were present-the stranger. Warwick, his son and his daughter. For a thne It seemed as though the meal might be finished m silence. The girl was timid, the boy churlish The Stranger 23 Warwick absorbed in thought, and the stranger reserved, although twice he had attempted to introduce the subject of his rescue. The first time he met with a reply indicating that there could be no risk to one who had faith in the Lord ; the second time he was Informed, in words that could not be misconstrued, that whatever credit was due should be given to God. "We are all tools in a mighty scheme, in which man is helpless and powerless. You could not avoid the undermined bank that slipped and cast you into the stream. I could not help but go out into the storm, to be guided to your rescue." "But surely you need not have risked your life for me." "I could have done nothing but what I did. I could not have moved a hand but as the Lord decreed in the beginning it should move. I could not have crossed that stream had I attempted to do so, nor could I on the bank have watched your weakened hands unclasp had I been ever so afraid of self-injury. The act of yesterday was mapped out in the book of our lives. It was pre- destined that you should cling to that very log, and that I should save you from the flood." The stranger seemed inclined to ask another question or to argue the point, but LSe ^ could speak Warwick added- th'J^t'u^''^ ''• "'■ "'"* ^f-'-^h is not. is not- co^d L: r;h ^'^'^ ^"^^ ^' '-' 'predestined :^- cord>ng to the purpose of Hin, who make*h all thmgs after the counsel of His own willT" Ha.ha;pr;otir.x„^--^'-^^- "No. But—" "No—" "Do you know of anvthino- n,,* n j , ;^^. His incite wisSitS^Sl^ ■nto that flood, you could have kept out of it " No mortal power, no will of man could .,, The Stranger 25 No. Had I been ever so ready to disobey the Lord's command, I couldn't if I would." The earnestness and aggressiveness exhibited by Warwick in this discussion abashed the stranger. "I am fully recovered, thanks to your kindness, and will resume my journey, first, h'-wever, asking you to tell me where the man I am seeking lives." "What is his name? I know every man in these knobs." "His name is Warwick." "Preacher Warwick?" "Yes." "God has guided your footsteps to my door. What would you have of me?" "Are you Preacher Warwick?" "Yes." "I was sent here to study the geological forma- tion of this part of Kentucky, the glacier prints on the Middle-creek, Gunpowder and other cliffs, the fossil shells of the hiii tormations and the big bones of 'Big Bone Lick.' I was directed to you as one who lived in this interesting section of our land, and who might give me temporary lodging and board." M* .fl -chfareasXie??"' ^'•" ^°" P"» "P -th "This is good enough for any Me." «j^ .u stranger lightly. ^ ^ '*"* "•« Nor* or ,h. &»»" '"'" '"» "" "From the North " Warwick mused a moment. And have you no letters?" stag^°o Lrj '' "*; *° ^'-'""-t'. thence by of your SstT'J r '^ ^ "'^^ ^^- °- •"e Th 4 r eft h- / T "''''= ^°" ^"""'l wished to stay." ^ '""* ^ "Yon seem young for this kind of work- studying fossil stones and fossil bones " "1 am older than I look. Still, I am only a student m the university. I came to cpend my vacation in this work." •'And you have nothing to do with the war?" No. ♦ Z^'Z°'^^ '""^" °"" """"^ Warwick hesi- tated. If you live with Warwick and have told the truth, you have nothing to fear from the people hereabout, be they for the North or for he South. But if you come here as a spy, there IS da- jer-danger for you and for others, if and good; buc ,f this is not your work, be careful for so sure as the sun shines on this knob there IS danger ahead." "I ''*''* *°''' >'°" '•'e futh, Mr. Warwick " 'Thv' whole truth ?" "Yes." huT^'" ^"»; "'^ '*'y'' '^'^ Warwick, changing h>s tone. "I take some interest myself i„ these cunous stones, which seem once to have bZ hells, and m these great bones, which dwarf our largest beast of to-day. You may stay fl " 28 Warwick of the Knobs I I time, and yet, if your tongue has been led astray, so sure as the shadows lie all day long on Gunpowder's Valley, so sure will you pay for the crooked speech. This seems harsh, my young friend, but these times demand plain words." They left the table, and Joshua went out to the tobacco field, the daughter turned her attention to the household duties, Warwick and his guest returning to the sitting-room. "Another word," said Warwick when the others were out of hearing, "now that we are alone. You are from the North. You need not have said it. I knew it from the way you speak. I knew it last night. But that is not what I have to say now. You are here to hunt shells in the hills, and bones in the Lick Valley. Be sure you do this, and that you close your ear and your eye to things outside. To everything else let your eye be as blind as are the stone shells of our bluffs, and your ear as dead as are the mammoths whose teeth lie in the Big Bone quagmire." The you**- flushed. He was not accustomed to such plain talk. He turned away, but Warwick laid his great hand upon his shoulder. The Stranger 29 "Troops of men in blue will pass you in the daytime, for the provo'-marshal scours both hill and valley; keep your eyes on the stones when these hoofs beat the road." The young man shrugged his shoulders, and tr.ed to tw.st from the grasp of the heavy hand Vou may be caught from home ,y night, and then may meet a squad of horsemen who wear vo.ce. Should any one question you, tell the thl .w ''°" "■' " '*""*"' °^ "'""^^ »"d tell Z^)u T ""P ""''^ ^"^'"^"^ °^ the Knobs; and ,f they doubt that, bring them to me." But why should they interfere with me?" Koml° r f ^' ^' ■' "°* interference for the Kome Guards to inquire into the business of a stranger nor can men, bound to the Confeder- hammer m h.s hand as a blind. Do as I say And now, another word. The room in which you W.11 sleep is that of my two oldest boys They are not here now; you may never mert "'ght Ask no questions, keep your eyes closed; and if some man shares the room S I 30 Warwick of the Knobi you and rises before daybreak, forget the in- cident." Warwick's voice and his intense earnestness brought a shadow to the face of the young man. I CHAPTER IV. WARWICK'S OATH. "1 8WEAS IT, JOHN." As Warwick looked down the hill toward the creek road at its base, a horseman came from the direction of Stringtown, and turned toward the house on the knob. The preacher went out hastily, and stood by the front door until the new arrival drew rein. '■Come in, Dr. John, and rest," said Warwick. What brings you here so early? No sickness m the neighborhood, I reckon ?" "No," replied the doctor, dismounting and hitching his horse to the rack. "I came to see you, Warwick, and I cannot stay, although, so far as others know, I am here on professional business. Are we alone?" "Yes." I kir 34 Warwick of the Knobi "You have a aon with Morgan." "And you have a brother," replied Warwick. "Need we be alone to speak of what is known to all Stringtown County'" "Our cause is a common one, Warwi'-'";, and you know I am not one to disturb you unneces- sarily." "It takes much to disturb a man in such times as these," —id Warwick. "Then let us speak as man to man. Warwick, you know every nook and corner, every crevice of the knobs; you are familiar with every path and creek-bed." "True. My father's father helped drive the Indians from this section; here my father was born ; here I first saw the light, and here my chil- dren were born. Why should I not know the land? It would be strange if I did not." "Enough, Warwick; let's come to the point. Your help is needed. Two »veeks from Monday night I shall come again, but it must be late in the night, and I shall not be alone. I will tap twice on the front door and then once. Be ready to receive the man who rides with me. Hide him in the knobs, hide him where neither Home Warwiclc'i Oath. Guar.1 nor provo'-mar.hal can fin.l him. S« that hch,.fo^, UVwick;an.l,i,„,c««ry fi^h tnat brings me here to-day " Warwick. The fir,. Monday af.cr ,he fir,. "And then .'"he asked. "You will be informed. The man for whom r;h;v:T^^'"^"-^"-'''-^--'h«" .Ch^:X,:^^° ^-^ -'^>- - -•'c Him "Toward the south .'" "Yes." knlwn tof "' " " "°' '"' "" '° 1""«i°n one known to be a, true as you to the Southern cause • "Yes." "From the Home Guards '" "Yes." see'l^r'h ^' "" """" ^''° ~'"" "■• ««=ret to seek my home worth a life?" "Yes." "Warwick's ?" ImI -^ii 36 Warwick of the Knobs "Yes." "You may bring him. I promise that the Monday night following the first Sunday that follows the first Saturday of next month War- wick will be in this room, listening for the tap on the door. I swear it, John." Just then a noise in th« adjoining room caused the quick-eared doctor to turn his face in that direction. "Tut, tut, John," said Warwick, "the door is puncheon. No one can hear." Mounting bis horse, the physician rode down the hill, repeating as he departed, "Be ready, Warwick. The Confederate cause risks much on you that Monday night." But it was evident that Warwick was less sure of the door than seemed to be the case when he spoke to the doctor. For a long time he sat in reverie, gazing at its oak surface. "What is to be, will be," he finally said. "I must not question the Lord, who led the g^est to ray door." The next morning Joshua, his son, started for Stringtown to get the trunk and baggage of the guest, who handed the youth a letter as he left Warwick's Oath. " I Swear it. John " 37 the house. It had been hastily written, and as follows: was Dear Charley: Here I am i„ Stringtown County. Kentucky, but I half wish myself else- where. . came near drowring the night of my arrival; m, ^t have drowned but for a strange n^ake-up of a man, a giant preacher, who rode his horse mto as viciou. a flood as I ever saw. and risked h.s hfe to pick me off a snag. Talk about your surf and undertows, you haven't a wave on the coast that approaches this devilish yellow creek, that runs like a race-horse and sucks and surges and roars its way through hills high enough to scrape the horns off the moon. But here I am. ready to study fossils and bones and- oh well, anything that comes my way. A devil- ish cunous old man, this man Warwick, the first predestmarian I ever met; lucky it is for me, too wolV °"'', ^°" "°"' ''"' " '■^"^•°"^ f^"^tic would have risked his life as he did for me But his gawky son Joshua is waiting for this letter and I must close. ' "Lionel. Warwick of the Knobs "P. S. Forgot to say that Mr. Warwick has a slip of a daughter about sixteen years of age, as timid as a rabbit and as pretty as a dove. Send me the papers regularly. Only the Signs of the Times comes to this place." CHAPTER V. MARY AND LIONEL. Thus began the Kentucky life of the younR student from the North. Each morning the am,Iy breakfa^ted before the rise of the sun- and when the meal was finished, Joshua and his father turned toward the tobacco patch, where both worked diligently until noon. Again after dmner they returned to the field. Lionel lingered m the house until the dew disappeared, classifying h.s fossil collection of the previous day, or read •ng the papers that soon began coming to him at .rre^-ular intervals. The girl busied herself about the housework. There were two servants, one an old :,egro woman, the other a negro man not -CSS aged; but they gave no attention to the house, their duties being to attend to the cooking and the kitchen and dining-room work. So whenever Lionel was in the house the daughter was usually near; and, naturally, it was If 40 Warwick of the Knobs not long before she began to exhibit some curios- ity concerning the work of the young man. She discovered that the visitor was a student in one of the celebrated universities cf New England, and had been advised by the professor of geology to spend his vac:' 'ion near Big Bone Lick, Ken- tucky, where, as he had informed her father, not only were to be found rich fields of fossil, shell- fish and trilobites, but mammoth and mastodon bones, buffalo roads, Indian trails and other sub- jects of great interest to naturalists. On reaching Stringtown, as already related, he left his baggage, and in a farmer's spring wagon started for the home of Preacher War- wick, who had been recommended to him by the landlord of the "Williams House" in Stpngtown as one who lived in the very heart of the region he sought, ana wno had room in his home for a boarder, providing he would agree to take one. "But," said Mr. Williams, "Warwick has two sons in the rebel army, and because you are from the North he may decline to give you lodging." After leaving the wagon of the farmer, about a mile from Warwick's house, the storm came suddenly; and next, as he stood on an undercut Mary and Lionel 4, sod, came the accident that threw him into the torrent. "Your fatiier is a very stem man, Miss War- wick He seems never to smile," concluded Lionel. "Father seems harsh," she answered, "but he >s very kind. He speaks sternly, but he means no harm. He loves his church above all things and is devoted to his religion." She hesitated and then added, "Do not cross him in his views concerning baptism or in his religious belief about the infallible decrees of God, for he will not take it kindly. I know how honest are his motives, and I know, too, hi. kmdiy disrwsition." "But to you. Miss Warwick, he speaks very harshly." ' "You do not know him." "He is very religious, but yet he believes that his daughter—" Lionel paused. "You wish to say that he believes I am not elected to salvation ?" said the girl. "That is it. You do not believe it, do you? You do not believe that such as you will be damned and such as your father saved?" 1 iH -^'1 i f! '" 1,14 111 ^m:. J 42 Warwick of the Knobs "I do, yes, I do," said the girl earnestly, "for I cannot make a public confession. It is terrible, this thing of passing helplessly to eternal punish- ment. Oh, it is terrible to think of I" "What wrong have you done?" "I was born a sinner, and have not seen God's grace. Oh, it is awful to be damned eternally! But I do not wish to speak of these things, this is not what I wish to say to you. Be careful to avoid the subject of religion; let father have his word, but make no reply while you stay with us. And — " she stopped. "And what?" "Go regularly to church. To-morrow is meeting-day, the first Sabbath that follows the first Saturday. Go to church with us. And, above all, do not study on the Sabbath; do not break stones, do not pick up fossils, do not read the newspapers." "What am I to do.'" "After attending morning services and riding horseback five miles to and from church, you will have little time left. Pass it in God's service." "And this has been your life?" "From childhood," she answered. "Never has Jou'nf " ^f"^*" ^°"°-'"« the first Saturday found me absent from church VVinf^r ^ rain, snow or flood are »„ 1 ' *""""'^' that day." • *° "" °"« »"'• 'he same "I call this a devih'sh " h«»,„ .l >t as you say, Miss Warwick I nm , shallabidehythecustomrthe'iry.^"'-^"^ wil^rrT/'T"' '°" "'" ^° *° '"urch and 1 shall do as you wish " naiet '^fath'^'" ^°" ^°"'='=**^ ^--'^. >>«, fortu- the StrL^n H« Poached in the old church up %ht undf da?w r ' '"' '' *°°'' *"■" fr°- day light until dark to go and return. However he wil be home to-morrow, and that is whri lat so to you to-day." ^ P^" That night the guest wrote to his friend: "Dear Charlev: Im in it for sure To- morrow IVe got to go to church and be good after the style of a hard-shell Baptist ^ITt good, too, while I am out of church.' Only 1? rra7:fjr^°^^'':°^^^"^^"'^Co; Dreak a stone. I must sit and think of, the old 44 Warwick of the Knobi scratch knows what, read the Bible and psalm> book, and mope the day away. Charley, this country is a geological mine. These hills and cliffs are made up of strata of fossil, blue lime- stone, over which once beat the ancient ocean. The tops of the highest knobs and the floor of the creeks and all between are a mass of stone shells. Here the famed Cincinnati Formation is to be seen at its best. "Charley, this old man Warwick is a case. He takes his dram as regularly as dram-time comes, and says his prayers as sure as the sun rises or the dinner-table is set. He sings a psalm, too, now and then, and yet, amid all his religious fervency and his faith in a beneficent God, this daughter of his is afraid to smile in his presence. I don't know just how the old man would take it, but she ought to see the world, and I'd like to^ "Oh, well, to-morrow we all go to 'meeting* on horseback, ride five miles, rain or shine, and back again. Th- first Sunday that follows the first Saturday is 'meeting' day. "Lionel. "Ha ! hal the first Sunday that follows the first Saturday." CHAPTER VI. THE CHURCH ON THE ISLAND.-WABWICK's TRIALS BEGIN. Sunday morning Warwick, his family and Lionel started to ciiurch on horseback. As they neared the ford of the creek at the base of the hiil Lionel noticed on the opposite summit, where the road crossed its crest, two men on horseback watchmg the party in the valley. But Warwick apparently did not see them, for he turned down the branch, his companions following in single file. Lionel was the last in the line; and as they turned away he chanced again to look toward the itien on the hill, and saw that they were moving slowly down the road. Then his eyes caught the ghtter of brass in the sunlight. A moment later he lost sight of them. Any one familiar with this part of Stringtown County need not be informed that the view is exceptionally picturesque. The hills rise, each 46 Warwick of the Knobf sttming to strive to get above the one behind. The road branches and divides, as does the creek, for along each branch of the creek a horse-path turns toward the homes that rest along the hill- sides and near their summits. The fossil stones lie flat in the creek-beds, layer above layer they shelve out of the yellow clay in broken edges. The forests along the creek have never been touched by the axe, excepting where a tree has been felled to make way for the narrow roadway ; the hillsides are occasionally cleared to give space for a tobacco patch or a touch of corn; but, as a rule, Nature holds her own in the knobs and valleys of Stringtown County. At the first oppor- tunity, where the road widened, Lionel drew his horse alongside that of Joshua. "Did you see the horsemen on the hill ?" "D" you think I'm blind ?" "Were they not cavalrymen ?" Joshua looked sharply at the questioner. "Is thet yer consarn ?" "No. I only asked out of curiosity." "I hain't got no curiosity, and I reckon et'll be better fer you not ter hev any. Ef a feller is goin" ter meetin' in Stringtown County, he hes 'noujfh tcr do e/ he i. -„- u: where the horse I .d cj " T"'r '°"°" Jw„.ron,thehei,h.;Cr;:'-^^«^ n:ero^:nL.s^r>---as;tth:: Wlsaw.no rSjtfaTa "Tf' ='"' '"- man in blue ^azinV!! .f ^^ '^'"^ '^""''■y- But there was no . "^hurch-going squad. P-edon T e;a.;^;i;"°^'"°"- -'' 'hey forests- the shl7 '^^ '"'° ^^' P""'eval • ""^ *''''^°*^« ^«« thicker, the moist air 48 Wtrwick of the Knobi grew Mipplw, even though the day wm lengthen- ing. Lionel agiin drew hi» horie cloe« to that of Jo»hua. "Another cavalrynum w«« stationed to the right of our path." Joshua glanced at the spealter inquisitively. " 'Pears ter me you air consarned. I hain'i no reason ter suspect you, but I hain'i took no stock in thet rock story. Grown men trampin' the hills, pickin' up stone shells, hev monstrous little ter do, ef thet's their only bus'ness." With this he forged ahead, while Lionel, with the second rebuke and its implied suspicion to redden his ears and flush his cheeks, followed in the rear. It was now near ten o'clock, and yet each leaf and branch was dew-laden. The sun had been up five hr.urs and more, and yet there was no ray in the deepening gulches through which they passed. The underbrush seemed even thicker, the fog hung like a wet blanket about them. Sud- denly Joshua drew his horse to one side out of the path, and seized the bridle of Lionel. Pointing to the bank of buslies, he said : "E£ you are the one the bluecoats are watchin' ■» w ••«• kit •■"■ ' "'^ . •■« ' ' I'-'i.. Kolii- It ' 'I •».». flu- »gn| ■■" f' (••'■ ti'l 8 -anti you Men ler show chance. Slip off ye, hor. bunch of leavei, and you'"' »er the end; efll lead >ohi> »t»y thar till yer called Vr. 'round, and you'll be i ;, md chance comes ter help you cut. Lionel was attoniihed, and ■ than r^L u "**^* "° °'her business than roclc-huntins'. The lol.ti.r. a "»'""» me. r .„, ■ . »o'«'ers do not concern me- I am simply curious. Thing, here are ^ •'range to me." * "'* *° tcr et and lettin' outsiders alone I ,'11° •"ct et ain't safe in S.rin^own Co „t ' ^Ka^r sogers a.r not out fer fun, but their bis'ness ain^ my consarn so fer as I knows of nowT,! y atter. Thet s what you'd better do. Warwick of the Knobs 5f_ too. Keep yer eyes on yer horse's ears and yer ears on the sound of yer horse's feet, I says." He loosened his hold on the lines and rode on. Gloomier than ever were the thickening forests on either side; the path ahead passed into a mass of shadows. The thickets to the right and the left wedged themselves together over the path, the creek seemed to move silently, as if to ripple were a sin; the sky was shut from sight by the interlaced foliage. Occasionally a gray squirrel on the trunk of a tree barked, frisked his tail and disappeared; now and then a striped ground squirrel squealed and then popped beneath a log ; occasionally a turtle dropped with a splash into the still waters of the e/er-present creek. Such were the sounds and such the scenes— such only, if we except the snake, which seemed to slip from off every stone and glide across the breast of the creek, or slide into the weeds that banked the thicket-bound path which, creeping beneath the trees, led toward the house o^ Gcd. At last abruptly they emerged from the forest, and came upon a little church built of stone. It stood on a point of land close to the creek, where the stream divided, to close in again behind the •»: ^* H . Warwick's Trials B egin 53 church. ()n either side ran the water, producing on the left branch a great natural pool. The forest closed down to the east and the west, the north and the south; the ever-present hills tow- ered higher and higher, the fastnesses of the knobs and valleys seemed here to dominate as they did nowhere else, a..l to shut mankind from all that might lie outside. Notwithstanding the natural lightheartedness ot Lionel, a strange sensation came over him as this scene burst to view from out the forest depths, a sensation such as comes to men reared amid the display of fashionable religions, when abruptly confronted by such an offering to God Primitive Christianity like this was to Lionel unknown. Having hitched their horses at a rack where many others were standing, the party en- tered the front door of the stone structure, and there met a transverse partition that shut out the room beyond. Mary now turned to the left, and passed through a door in the partition. War- wick, followed by his son and Lionel, turned to the right and passed through a similar door into the same room. In the rear, facing them, stood the pulpit, to 54 Warwick of the Knobs which Warwick advanced with slow and measured tread, seating himself in a chair behind it.* Joshua sank into the ai:le end of a seat about half-way down the room, and as he made no movement to give Lionel a place beside him, the latter took the aisle end of the pew in front. No sound broke the stillness of the room, and Lionel could not curb his own curiosity, as did the members of this congregation, to whom a stranger was an innovation; yet they gave him no glance. He noticed that a rail over the central pews ran lengthwise, dividing the men from the women. Curiosity prompted him to turn his head, but he caught no glance toward himself. Men and women alike seemed indifferent to his presence. Austere and stern, Warwick sat behind the simple white pulpit. First, he took the Bible from its place before him, turned its pages gently, tenderly, and placed a ribbon-mark be- tween the leaves that bore the text; then he re- turned the book to its place. Then he opened his hymn-book and laid it upon the Bible. After *As a statement of fact, this pulpit should have been be- tween the front doors, and the congregation should have faced the incomers. Nor was there a vestibule in any o£ these old churches. — J. U. L. Warwick's Trials Be gin 55 this he sat again in silence, seemingly oblivious to all things— even to himself. If this place of worship was touchingly simple, as contrasted with others Lionel had seen, not less touchingly earnest were the worshippers. To the left of the rail were many women and girls, in whom a stranger like himself must excite great curiosity, but not an eye was turned in his direction. To the right, men and boys were scattered, white-haired men and young boys; but they, too, sat as still as did the women. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional tramp of the feet of the horses that bore newcomers, and the subsequent entrance of the riders, who, as had the others, quietly seated themselves. Ill at ease, painfully disconcerted, Lionel again turned his head; behind him were now scattered many forms similar to those in front, excepting that at the very back of the church were to be seen a few black faces, the rear benches being, as he now discovered re- served for negroes. But those of the congrega- tion who sat behind were as indifferent to all others as were those in front. Finally Warwick arose and said, "Let us all 56 Warwick of the Knob* kneel in humble prayer to Almighty God." Im- mediately every knee was bent on the bare floor. Warwick lifted his hands, and every head in the audience bowed. An invocation to the Creator that was typical of simplicity, of faith, of rev- erence, and next, as the word "Amen" was spoken, each head was raised and the members of the congregation resumed their seats. Warwick slowly read the opening hymn, and then for the first time it occurred to Lionel that this was the only hymn-book in the room. No other was to be seen, and the young man won- dered how the congregation expected to carry the lines. But he was not left in suspense long, for after reading the verses Warwick said : "Let us unite in singing this, the second hymn in the supplement of the hymn-bouk, omitting the seventh and ninth stanzas." He read there- from again the first two lines, raised his voice to lead the singing, and was joined by the entire congregation. In this manner all the verses were completed. Then came a long prayer, a more earnest prayer, and next another song and then the sermon, which was a direct predesti- narian argument, its object being to show that The text was taken from Acts xiii. 48 last' clause and step by step the minister W hfs' con jre^t.o„ through his weH-mapped ,in:^o "a ;": ment basing each point on the Scriptures- sS, by step, through "firstly," through 'Cnd'^ and the, ,„.,,.,, ,^,. ^^ J,^ --d y and more severe as he toiled on and up toward Snllld' '''\''' '""^^ --^ab>e%*ero„ thelttrl'/H''"' r" ' """'^ ^'•°- -'-de, tfte clatter of horses' feet, that, beating the stones n the distance, gr«v louder and l!uder u„t they^c^shed the fossil creek-bed close about :;;' There was no change in the voice of the preacher not a head of the congregation t n d he worshippers sat seemingly oblivious to what' vs happening outside. Warwick must hav ohVrUrLr""-''^^--'- window withatninrLr'''^-'"^"^"^--^-'' ^ "" ''a"^' saving into the room. 58 Warwick of the Knobs He musl ! ive seen, one by one, the blue-coated cavalrymen *ake their positions before the windows. ':- men must also have been ob- served by 'le members of the congregation, who, however, sat as oblivious to their presence as was their pastor. Then came the sound of men dismounting, the tramp of leather boots, and the clanging of many sabres, which sounded ominously from without as their tips struck the stones. The sentries remained before the windows, while tramp, tramp, tramp came heavy footsteps into the front door, across the vestibule, and then into each side of the house of God. Down each aisle passed a line of soldiers until the leaders faced the pulpit where Warwick was calmly preaching the wor.l of God to those who sat before him, and who seemed engrossed only in that word. As the leader stopped in front of the altar the minister turned upon them a look stem and deter- mined. Pointing to the vacant bench, he said, "Be seated; you are welcome." Hesitating, as if undecided, the man seemed inclined at first to protest against the word of command ; but then, as if unable to withstand the combmed order and invitation, wnk with a clank ««o the vacant place; then each armed man in both aule. seated himself in the nearest pew When th- confusion and noise subsided, soldiers and civilians together listened to the austere mtnister, who continued his sermon as if no un- usual interruption had occurred, listened until the word amen was reached, the final prayer the ending song. Then the benediction was 'pro- nounced; and while yet the mixed audience stood with uncovered heads. Warwick, in a low voice that could however, be heard distinctly by all spoke to the leader, who faced the speaker. For whom do you search ?" "For Mr. Warwick." CouLy'"' "" """' '^"^''''' '" ^'""^^^" "I hold an order for the arrest of Preacher Warwick-Warwick ot the Knobs." "What is the charge?" "Treason." "I am the man. You need seek no farther." Deliberately, and without showing any emo- fon the parson, hat in hand, turned from the pulpit and followed the officer down the aisle 6o Wtfwick of the Knobi A. th^ p.„«|. ,he awaiting tidier, fell i„,o me and ,ram,*d their way behind them out of the church; clank, clank, sounded the wbre, „ the.r t.p, .truck the floor and bumpe<| the wooden pew end.; thump, thump, the heavy boot, of the cavalrymen beat the uncarpeted board,. Then the guardsmen at the window, disappeared, and tne men and women turned toward the aisle^^^ • and m a few moments the meeting-house on the island was empty. When Lionel reached the open air the cavalry- men, m smgle file, were preparing to ride away, Warwick near the centre of the line. He did not speak, nor did any one attempt to converse with h.m. Soon the troop passed from sight, the -und of the horse,' feet died away, and group by group the members of the broken congregation mounted their horses and hurried each tVhi home am.d the hills or in the valley, leaving the oW St.. church alone by the side of the baptfsmal L>one and the two children of Warwick, who as h r H f "■ '°""= "" '"^ ^"""^ - -'-«y talk ,K :• '''"• '"'''"' ^'°"^' ^«-P'ed to talk with his companions during the journey, for, nto of len he en nd he y- I •^» I "waocor- iisoiution ti$t cna>t (' 'SI o.d ISO TEST CHART No J) 1.0 Ifl^ 1^ I.I 1:25 i 1.4 12.2 K£ H, 1.8 ^ APPLIED IM/IGE In ^S*. 'G5J East Mam Street ^^ Rn^hffittf. Nea Tork t*609 USA ■— ^ ("6) 482 - 0300 - Phone ^S ("6J 288 - 5989 - Fa. Warwick's Trials Begin 63 strange as it may seem, neithei exhibited any outward signs of emotion. Once, when the path widened, he rode to the girl's side. "This is a strange thing," he said. "We of Stringtown County are used to such surprises. These are terrible times for us," was all she said. A little while later he ventured to speak to Joshua to the same effect. "Ef et takes a hunderd bluecoats ter took up a man with a Bible, how many would et take ter took him ef he hed a gun ?" said Joshua. ''What do you suppose your father has done?" "Et don't matter what he done, er ain't done. Et all depends on what some feller says he done, and I guess they've got the feller ready ter say et.'' "You do not think that he will be away long? Surely your father cannot be charged with any- thing serious?" "He'll not be back at all, far he'll never took thet oath. The old church's closed fer the sum- mer, and winter, too, p'raps. Pap's bo-md fer Camp Chase. Ef et war not fer lea\ sister alone I'd start fer the rebel army to-niglit." CHAPTER VII. THE CHARGE AGAINST WARWICK. Warwick was taken to the county seat of Stringtown County and then direct to the home of the provost-marshal. No introduction was necessary, for the men had known each other from childhood. Both had been bom and reared in that county, the ancestors of both had toiled to clear the land, and on that same land they had fought the Indian and the wild beast. Having entered the room, the prisoner was invited to be seated. Only Warwick and the provost-marshal were present, for the soldiers remained outside. "And now, James, may I know why I have been arrested?" Warwick asked coldly, his look severe. "By order of ti.o general." The Charge Against Warw ick 65 "The charge?" "Treason." Instantly the mind of Warwick reverted to the guest who sat beliind the dcor at the time of D.. John's visit, and he decided at once that this man had been the informer. Indignation shook him, for to a Kentuckian such a breach of hospi- tahty was despicable. But he gave no outward expression or intimation of his suspicion. "James, you have sworn to do these things much to your discredit, too. Would it not b^ better to go into the Northern army, and let strangers slip around our Stringtown County roads and arrest your old friends.'" "Be patient, Mr. Warwick," replied the mar- shal m a conciliatory tone; "things may not be as bad as you think. You are too old to attempt to serve the Confederacy. You are also a minis- ter, and, being a man of peace, need not concern yourself in the troublesome affairs that now dis- turb the country. Be thoughtful of your own interests; leave the settlement of these temporal matters to other hands. You have been arrested by me, it is true, but because of a positive order from my superior. Is it not better for you that I 66 Warwick of the Knobs an old frknd.hold this position than if an outsili^ were provost-marshal of Stringtown County?" What .s the full charge against me?" asked Warwick, Ignoring the argument th,"?' '"'u'^'' ^^'■- ^^"'^''=''' '' 'hat you sympa- thzed wuh the South: that you have o^y praved for the rebel cause, and have sun^^ songs before the people. ' ^ th^'?^r'?, "^^ ""y' *™* ^ sympathize with the South tells the truth. I have two sons in the Confederate army, and my hope is that their cause may succeed. I believe it just and right' But the man who says that in public I sang rebel ^ngs hes, for in public and „nvate I sing only he sacred songs of God. When was it, sir, tha^ « ;s charged I sang these worldly songs ^" It IS said that while preaching you" openlv S™nr:^^'^^^^^''-*''-^-p-"^^^^^^^ sat;';Luot;v^.'^^ "James, that is a lie. You know that in the jcred ouse of God I preach only the .lord t^od^ Shame, shame on you. to listen to such a charge. You know me well and fh!/ tongue should be torn from its ro;tstfrthZ The Charge Against Warwick 67 things would be done by me. Who makes the charge? "The charge is made by the general, who bases h.s order for your arrest on the swor.i testin.ony of witnesses who stand ready to testify thereto" And who may these witnesses be?" asked Warwick, for it was no" So must U be, Mr. Warwick. I perceive that wo d of ,n,ne >s powerless to move you. Fare- well until to-morrow." That night Warwick .ested behind the bars of hehttle ja,; which faced the white-pillared "urt And that n,ght, as by a flash, for the first time «r^e to Warwick the fact that the next day would be t,e,rst Monday after the Hrst Sunday that followed the first Saturday ^ toS"M:'r"'"''^°''^™"''''^p-'"--de fir's! T'7 ""1 "" ^""'"^ '''^^' f°"'>^i>^S 'he first Sunday that follozvs the first Saturday of ne.t month lVaru,ick r.ill te in this rooZZel tng for the tap on the door." A prisoner, destined for Camp Chase, with bu lit The Charge Against Warwick 75 tramp, all night, when not on his knees, Warwick moved from end to end of his cell. Sleep did not come to his eyes, for his mind was racked as it had never been before. On the one hand, was his sworn word to Dr. John; on the other, that i-on- clad oath of Burbridge. The first he must not break, he second he could not take. In his anguish he prayed to his God for strength, for light, for help, but never with a thought other than that these trials were for the best, and that God would guide the movements of His servant in the future as He had in the past. And when the sentry gave place to the relief guard next morning, Warwick, in his cell, composed, confident, sternly pious, knelt in prayer, after which aloud he repeated the Scriptural text : "But if a man live many days, and rejoice in them all, yet let him remember the days of darkness, for they shall be many." Instead of the prisoner's breakfast being served from the jailer's house, the provost-marshal directed that Warwick be brought to his own home; tlius he ate with the marshal and his family, as under diflferent circumstances he had often done before. No less fervent, however. 76 Warwick of the Knobs than on other occasions was the blessing that he asked. Breakfast over, the prisoner was con- ducted to the room where the audience had previ- ously been held with the provost-marshal, who now opened the conversation. "Mr. Warwick, I hope that mature reflection has shown you the folly of carrying to the ex- treme your decision of yesterday. A very painful duty It will be to me should you make it necessary to take you to Covington, for that must be the step toward Camp Chase. Spare me this un- pleasant task, Mr. Warwick." "James, I have pondered deeply. I have called on the Lord for light and strength. Not once did my eyes close last night in sleep. I, too, wish with all my soul to be spared that journey into Ohio as a prisoner." "Then take the oath. Be sworn, Warwick, and depart in peace." "James," said Warwick, ignoring the sugges- tion, "may I not go home on furlough, advise with my children, consult with my friends, attend to some urgent duties that needs must be done, and return to-morrow ?" The officer shook his head. The Charge Aga inst Warwick 77 "On my word, James. The word of a Warwick was never broken. I promise to return to-morrow morning, and either take your oath or go to Camp Chase." "That your word is your bond I know, but I am powerless. I am ordered either to administer to you the oath of allegiance or this day deliver your person in Covington. I have no option, Mr. Warwick." "James, if any man had told me yesterday that this day I should have humiliated myself as now I do, I should have fr, ned the speaker down. But I, a Warwick, beg you to grant me a favor; just a single day at home— cne night more- James, grant me one night only with my family, and then away with me to Camp Chase or John- ston's Island. This one favor, James." "I cannot concede even that. But the oath will give you freedom for all time, for I know full well you will never break your word." Then to Warwick's mind came again with painful foreboding the dialogue that passed be- tween Dr. John and himself. "Is the man who comes w secret to seek my help worth a life.''" ri ill 1 "Yes." "Warwick's?" "Yes." "You may bring him. I promise that the Monday n.ght following the first Sunday that follows te first Saturday of next month War- v.ckw,„ hem this room, listening for the tap on hr-"t, T."'.^"'"-" The time was now n.ght. Th,s mght he ^,«, be home. Knowing nothmg of what passed through Warwick's brain he marshal sat patiently awaiting his decision' unaware that on it depended events of import nc^ ^ ITT ""r"'' ^'"''''^'^ '"°- ^f'^" an w^ck. Had the provost-marshal of Stringtown County known who was to call that night at Warwick's home, he would not have hefitated a moment m taking the responsibility of freeing h.pnsoner and next in laying his plans to catch the nocturnal guest. for^T't '"f ''' '■°°'"- ^^ '''°'' back and forth back and forth, while still the provost- marshal sat patiently, hoping that the journey to Covmgton might be spared both Warwick and himself. At last the prisoner stopped The Charge Against Warwick 79 "James," he said, "must I go away without bidding my family farewell and attending to some private duties? What matters it to Bur- bridge whether an obscure Kentucky country preacher begins imprisonment a day sooner or a day later? Give me this one day longer." "It cannot be." "James, God knows that I would n' . ask you to do a wrong; but cannot you honorably take the responsibility? Cannot you say to your superior that you knew Warwick would live up to his word and return on the morrow; and that, know- ing this, you gave him one day of grace? Re- member our mothers, our fathers, our school-boy days together, James." The officer shook his head. "James, a Warwick must not be taken to Camp Chase on the word of a nigger. You cannot be a party to such an indignity; go to Burbridge and argue this point with him. You are an attorney; be now both his officer and my attorney; draw up your deed transferring to Burbridge my home, farm, everything I own, real and personal; make me a pauper and my children beggars, but spare me this dishonor. Go personally and say all of 8o Warwick of the Knobs h.s Warwick offers for freedom, and return with II, iT?- ^ *'" ^ '" *''» "^^ with the deed. If the word yet be either Burbridge's iron- clad oath or Camp Chase, I will go with you a pauper prisoner. But if I be not here (and dea h only shall detain me), my all will be Bur- bndge s by the deed." "It cannot be." Then Warwick reverted to the charge "The charge is false. Never did I sing a rebel song; never did I preach a sermon in favor of he rebels; m.ver in church did I pray aloud for the rebels. The charge is false, sir." The marshal stepped to the door. "Bring black William and his wife," he said to the guard in \.. iting. CHAPTER Vlir. "discrace hangs over the house of war- wick." In a few moments the door opened, and the negroes entered. That they knew the occupant of the room and in turn were known by him was evident; but while Warwick, with head aloft, gazed at them sternly, they, abashed, looked down at the floor. "You may question William, Mr. Warwick," said the provost-marshal. "I shall do nothing of the kind, sir. You are hired to do these things." "William," said the marshal, "your former master is in trouble through what you and your wife said in Covington." " 'Deed, Ma'se James, I doan tole nuffin'." "And you ?" The marshal spoke to the woman. "I doan tole nuffin', needah." 82 Warwick of the Knobs Hows, h,s. William? I have been advised to arrest your former master and send him to Covmgton on charges made by yourself and wife. The officer who presented the order brought you with him to give the evidence." "IdonetoledetrufTinCovVton." "Tell it again, William." "I jes preached a leetle t' de cullud folks like demaseteachedm.fdo.an-sungdeoles;ng' A n ggah sojer tole ne.x' day dat I wah pray^' o de rebels an' singin' rebel song, an' L'de sojers come an' took me up. De capn axed me who done g,b me de sahmon an' de song, an' nole h,m Ma^e WarTk of Stringtown County. •spec d OK h"^"' "' "^^'^ ^-'••'' - - -an spected ob bem a rebel." "iTwah " '''^' ''"''"" ^^ '"'"' * '''"*' ^^''^ ■" "I did no, know your name had been recorded as a suspect, Mr. Warwick. That was done by no knowledge of mine. But, Mr. Warwick " and no, the provost-marshal spoke very eates , arrested on charge or suspicion, and must either "Di«grace Hangg Over The House" 8; take the oath or go to Camp Chase. Go on. William." "De nex" I knows de sojers had me n de ole woman safe in de lock-up. Den de nex' mahnin' (ley took us out, an' heah we am. I doan say nuffin' bad "bout gixid ole ma'se, an' I doan spoke nuffin' but de truflf." The frown deepened on the brow of Warwick. "He lies, James. I never taught him a line of a rebel song; never did he hear me preach or pray a line of such things. Ask him to repeat the words." *^ 'Tell us what you preached and sang." "I'se pow'ful pious, as yo' boff knows, an' when de spir't comes obah me, I preaches an' smgs and exhoits like Ma'se War'i'k do. fo' I hab gone f meetin' all my life, an' de ma'se knows et I got pow'ful happy dat 'vival night an' tola dem Cov'n'ton sinnahs dat de debbil 'ud git em suah lessen day jump in de salbation wagon, jest like es Ma'se War'i'k tole de folks down in de ole church on de creek. Den I got pow'ful skaered bout myself, an' I shout out. 'Lawd, forgib me a rebel s.nnah; Lawd. forgib me. a rebel sinnah ' jest es Ma'se War'i'k do ebery second Sunday 84 Warwick of the Knobs yeah in an' yeah out. Yo' know yo' do, tna'ie," added William, appealing directly to Warwick. "Go on, William. Tell us about the rebel song you sang," ordered the marshal. "Sing de song, Rach; sing de song, ole woman." Obedient, the old woman raised her voice, in which William joined; and soon Warwick, too, unable to withstand the habit of old, broke into the lines. They sang one hymn after another, becoming emotionally enthused, with voices growing louder, and before they were through a smile was on the face of every occupant of the room, for the religious fervor of the two negroes had affected even the marshal. The following were the mischievous verses from three different hymns : Show pity, Lord; O Lord, forgive. Let a repenting rebel live. Are not thy mercies large and free? May not a sinner trust in thee? And are we wretches yet alive? And do wc yet rehelf 'Tis boundless, 'tis amazing love, That bears us up from hell. "DUgrace Hangi Over The Home" 85 Lord, w< b<«t long ibuMd thy lovt; Too long indulged our iln. Our aching httrtt now bind to k« Wh»t rtbfU we have been. Dear Saviour, proitrate at Thy (cct A guilty rtM liei, And upward to Thy mercy Mil Preiumet to life hit eyet. "Enough, William," spoke the marshal. "You may go. I perceive that the charge is true. Mr. Warwick did pray for the rebels and did sing rebel songs. I have heard them from your lips many times, Warwick." "Grant that this is so, I sang no worldly songs, and I prayed in public for no rebel soldier. James, gathered before me every Sabbath are to be found mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers of men in both armies; brave men these, James, and loving kinsmen. It would ill become me to pray for either North or South, but I do beseech the Lord each service, if it be His will, to have pity on our unhappy country." Continuing, he added: "Now that you know the truth and the trivial nature of the charge, you will no longer detain me." 86 Warwick of the Knobt lltl He reached .)ut his hand. "Farewell, Jame*. Let ui foriret the unfortunate inci.lent that has given iuch pain to both." But the marshal only shook his head. "The oath first. Mr. Warwick. The order to me is positive. The oath must be taken." "You do not mean it, James?" A look of anguish deeper than before came over the prwch- er'» face. "I >!o, for I have no choice in the matter. Mr. Warwick, your name was in the book; all who are named in that book must be arrested, charge or no charge. The oath only can liberate these men. If they are loyal, they have no reason to object to it ; if they are not loyal, their place is in Camp Chase." "When do you start for Covington, James?" "At four o'clock this afternoon. Three others, men you well know, are to be your companions."' "Take me back to my cell, sir." Late that afternoon Warwick sent for the provost-marshal. "Disgrace hangs over the house of Warwick, for I have decided to take the iron-clad oath of the despot Burbridge. Could you have given me one day longer, all the powers of the North, sir " Diigrace Hangi Over The Ho me" 87 migh« have conspired in vain to raiie my right hand Neithw threat nor argument could have opened my lip, and M them to re.p.)nd to the word, you K«n w.ll ,,,eak. But. James, I m.ist submit to the will of God; the Scriptures teach that all thmg, work together for g.xxl to them who are the called according to His purpose.' " That evening. j„st before dusk, Warwick might have been seen riding away from the jail V\ ith bowed head and hat drawn down over his eyes, kwking neitLer to the right nor to the left without a word or a nod to any one. shamefaced] broken in spirit, alone, he rode toward his home on the knob. CHAPTER IX. "VOUR FATHER, MARV. HAS BROUGHT SHAME TO THE NAME OP WARWICK." After the arrest of Warwick in the church Lionel and the son and daughter returned home No cavalrymen now guarded the by-roads, no armed horsemen sat on the brow of the hill that confronted the home on the knob. .':quirreS here may have been on the tree trunks, but if so hey were not seen by the student from the North '■ the splash of the turtle that fell from off the lo^ rllut7^ ""^ '"PP'"^ water-snake unseen InL f '°^'"^ "''' '''' ^^"^y' 'he cliffs and dells, forests and rock-bound creeks, had now no charm for the visitor, who brooded over the strange events the day had brought forth. And when the home was reached, and they were sit- ting at dinner, it became evident that grim austere Preacher Warwick had drawn himseH " Shame to th e Name of Warwick "89 closer to Lionel even than that personage had supposed. The inevitable blessing had previously been painfully conspicuous for its length as well as for its fervor, embodying as it did primitiv faith and sincerity. Much would Lionel have given to have seen the dogmatic man who once had ruled that home sitting in his place at the head of the table. And with each succeeding meal the absence of that form and the loss of Warwick's voice grew not less, but gieater. The evening meal on Monday was late, for Joshua came from work unusually late. During the conversation Lionel remarked : "Surely, Miss Warwick, your father will re- turn soon." She shook her head. "No, we have been expecting his arrest, and transpcrtation North. He is a Southern sympathizer." "He'll not be back at all, I tell you, interjected Joshua. "He couldn't git off without taking the oath, and I'd hate to be the man that holds his breath till he took thet oath. You'll not see pap home from Camp Chase till the \ -ar's over." "From Camp Chase!" exclaimed Lionel. "Do you think the charge is so serious ?" go Warwick of the Knobs cJ *'".'■?" '' ''°"'' ""^^ "° ^'ff"«"<=« 'bout the charge; he's got two boys in the rebel army and sech men ,n this countv must either took thet oath or go to Camp Cliase." "Both you and your sister seem to accept the s.tua.o„ coolly and take his arrest very call?" Ve promised h.m to do so," said the girl. Bdes, we have been trained in a bitter sch'ool this Scr ^ "' accustomed to such scenes as this Scarcely a young man is left in our entire he Northern or Southern army. But that is not the worst, 'she added, "for many, many of the Cat rl" %i^" ™^^ ^"^ -fined n Camp Chase. These are sorrowful times for those who hve in Stringtown County, sir " vour Jl''"" '° "°* ''"" '"'P'-" '=°"«^"ed over your ather s arrest. You have not even inquired regarding his final destination." 'Thefs all you know 'bout et," said Joshua. They yanked him before the provo'-marshal oath. They put him in jail, and ter-night he'll Camn CH '"' -!"' ''' "^^' "'^'^^ ^^^^ be in Camp Chase, too." "Shame to the Name of Warwick" 91 Lionel was surprised at this informatioti, but asked no questions c( oerning the method by which it had been obtained. "Possibly he may take the oath. He can do no service to any one by refusing." "Ef he'd took thet iron-clad oath, he'd disgrace himself and all of us. No, sir; no Warwick '11 ever took thet oath of Burbridge. He'll die in his tracks—" Just then an unexpected sound broke upon their ears, that of horses' feet, and Joshua left the sentence unfinished. Next a measured tread on the ground without, and then Warwick stepped into the house. Joshua dropped his knife and fork, and looked up in amazement. His sister sprang from her place, and rushed to her father's side, throwing her arms around him ; but he thrust her off and turned his head away. "My father," said the girl, "what has hap- pened? Oh, my father!" But Warwick, stand- ing yet as before, made no reply. Hi; great frame quivered, his breath came slowly, his chest heaved, the furrows in his forehead deepened. He turned his ashen face toward the girl, and Epoke slowly, each word being articulated with painful exactness. 92 Warwick of the Knnh « "Your father, Mary, has brought shame to the name of Warwick." Then he took his Bible, seated himself in his accustomed chair, and read aloud: "My soul trusteth in Thee; yea. in ,he shadow of Thy wmgs will I make my refuge until these calami- ties be overpast." Oyer the face of Joshua came a look of utter bewilderment. Abruptly the stoop-shouldered boy took upon himself the part of a man; with ungamly gait he moved to where his father sat and stood erect before him. For the first time he ventured to question an act of that man, whom God only heretofore had presumed to question. "What do you mean, pap?" "The name you bear has been disgraced, and by your father. Have pity on me. son." "Did you tooken the oath ?" "I did." "Burbridge's oath?" "Yes." The boy made no reply. He turned toward Lionel, but Lionel had slipped from the room Then, as if bewildered, he too turned to the door, leaving the broken-spirited man in his grief " Shame to the Name of Warwick ' 93 with his Bible before him. But just then the daughter slipped timidly to his side. She threw her arms about his neck, and kissed his brow; and then, oobbinf 3i..:ntly, she knelt beside him. # CHAPTER X. "I AM A WARWICK, SIR. THE HONOR or MY FATHER IS AT STAKE." Warwick was speaking to his daughter as he had never done before. A kerosene lamp, turned low, and a candle shed a dim light about the apartment, just light enough to make more im- press,ve the scene. Where shadow met shadow there was darknes,; where lamp and c ndle ray crossed each other, just light enough t, show outhne. but not color. Just enough of shade and ghmmer were commingled to breed mystic thought and to conjure moods that never come in either deep darkness or bright light "My daughter." Warwick was saying, "the Book of L,fe offers consolation to mankind. It IS abundant in goodness and truth.' and yet in trial such as this I. a student of the Word, long to speak to human ear. My soul craves the touch of human sympathy. To you, then, my daughter "I Am A Warwick, Sir" 95 I, your dishonored father, shall pour out my words, asking you only to listen. A stain now rests on the name you bear. To-day began your father's humiliation; to-night may complete it." "The dream, father; the dream." "Think not of such trivial things. Remember, 'tribulation worketh patience.' " Then he con- tinued : "To-morrow and hereafter when men meet Warwick he will turn his head and cast down his eyes, for deep must lie the shame of him who until this day could look the whole world in the face. Listen, child. Two weeks ago there came to me in this room a man, to whom I pledged my word, and that means my life, if necessary. I swore to him that to-night I would be in this room, wait- ing for him to knock at that door. It was an oath, child. A Warwick never yet broke an oath, and that is why I bowed my knee to the tyrant Burbridge. The honor of your father demanded that he be here to-night; and yet to be here brought your father shame, disgrace, dishonor. But let that pass. It was destined either to be shame '.nd disgrace only or, added to both shame and disgrace, the sin of a broken oath. To-night M If You well know him, the man will come again, daughter." of meditation his daughter said : "There is more to tell, father " "Y"- To-night Dr. John com-s to ask my aid m this rnatter. that I now must needs turn from fo by that cur.sed oath of Burbridge I swore T' hold my hand from giving aid or fuccor to" in o friend who needs help, if he be for the Sou " -.^^his man who comes to-night is of the' "Who is he, father?" in "he r ^ t"°' ^"°"'' °"'^ *''" ^'^ » °"« high Zll ^""^t^'^^'^y^ ^^^'' P^haps an escapL he North I know not who or what. This only do I know that in the presence of Dr. John I ., wore bef re the great God that I would be here to-n g Hire '". '^ '" ''■ "'^^ •'"" -'^^ neit e Home Guards nor provost-marshal can find track o evidence of him; where neither the followers of Burbridge nor of Burbank can trace him 'I Am A Warwick, Sir" 97 Attend well to his wants; and, if necessary, fight before harm comes to him.' " "And you promised, father?" "No. The Lord spared me that. I promised only to be here to-night." The speaker rose, and tramped back and forth across the room ; the double shadows played upon the ceiling, the floor, the walls— weird shadows that crossed each other and disappeared to revive again as the moving form of the disturbed man cut lamplight or candle-light or the blended light of both At length he stopped. "Go to your room, child, to your room. My mind is easier now that I have told of the wrong I have done in order to evade the wrongs I have not done. Go to bed, daughter." Warwick stooped and ten''crly kissed his daughter's forehead, a thing he had not often done before. Taking the candle, the girl left him standing in the light of the dim lamp. Soon, however, he was again striding back and forth across the floor, nursing his thoughts and waiting for that double knock upon the door. Thus Warwick waited and walked, waited and prayed, waited and trusted. ,' -^Jl q8 Warwick of the Knobi i Jim when midnight struck there came the tramp of horses' fe^t, and the expected knock sounded on the front door, which \Var^v■ick im- mediately opened. As he did so tl>e dcx,r behind him cautiously moved; and as his midnight guests stepped into the front of the ro*.m his ' ughter, unobserved, slipped in from behind. One of the men was Dr. John, the other was hidden in wraps; scarcely could his eyes be seen Standing in the shadcws, he seemed intent on evading the light. "Be seated, John," said Warwick. "First let me introduce my friend. Mr. War- wick, this is Gen — " "Stop!" interrupted the hearer. "Dr. John, I must not learn that name." The physician turned upon him. "This from you, Warwick?" "And more, John. I gave my word that I would be here to-night, and I am here, but not the Warwick you knew of old. Seek elsewhere for aid. I must not give it. Farewell. John farewell. Lose no time." He pointed to the door. "Warwick, you led me to believe in your "I Am A Warwick. Sir" _99 ability in your faith, in your patriotism; and now. after the great werifice i. ,nade. when ,„c- cew dependi on your carrying ..ut your part of the compact, you point to »t,e door. Midnight is past. Long since the vv,-rd has been spread abroad that the plot in which you are concerned has led to the escape of him who comes to you for help. Home Guard and cavalryman. Kout and detective, are now on the alert, for a foremost officer of the Confederacy that you once claimed to love has escaped his guardsmen. He is in your home, danger closes in on all sides ; and now —now, at the critical moment— you. Warwick turn your back to the solemn trust you took, and turn your guest away." In silence Warwick stood, but his clenching hands evidenced the intensity of his passions. "Shame on you, Warwick; shame be on your head and name." The doctor spoke vehemently, but Warwick, true to his oath, gave no sign of relenting. "John," he said, "you have spoken bitter words, but true ones. Shame does rest on the head of Warwick; disgrace mu ding to the name of his children. I gave you my word of 100 Warwick of the Knobi 4Ji „ . i" 1 .It i honor, and to iave that word I am here; but. in order that I might be here, I wa» forced to pledge myielf to give no aid to man or men at the Confederacy, That oath i« sacretl. Unaided by me, you must go from my door, even though U be to death." "Warwick, when last I Mood in this room these words concerning this friend passed be- tween us. You asked : 'Is he worth a life ?' 'Yes.' 'Warwick's?' 'Yes.' 'You may bring him. I promise that the Monday night following the first Sunday that follows the first Saturday War- wick will be in this room, listening for the tap on the door. I swear it, John.' " "Am I not here? And as for the life of War- wick, take it if you will. Small account it is now to me. John, since last I saw you in this room I have taken the iron-clad oath of Burbridge. Need I say more ? The minutes pass while you idly talk; they are precious to you and to him beside you. Even now the bluecoats may be about you. Go, John, seek another guide, an- other place of concealment." "It is too late," said the physician in a .oice of despair. "Your son Joshua, Warwick ; where is he?" ^ Am A Warwick, Sir ' lOI Ck>ne, said Warwick; "gone I know not where. When he learned .,f hi. father', dishonor he turnc„„ get this right from' the house of Warwick; and God know, you need help now." But just then the girl, who to this moment ^hrank unseen i„ ,he .shadows, s.q,ped Inrfore her father. Her uplifted face .hone brave and calm m the dim light. "I am of the houM of Warwick. I will .niide you to the cliff,." * The interruption came so unexpectetlly that it silencd the physician and astounded the father For the f^r,t time the ..ranger spoke. He alone seemed cool and at ease. "I understand that the way to the clifTs is dangerous, and that even in daylight few persons care to go mto those wilds." "I know the way. sir." "But the danger.'" "I am a Warwick, sir. The honor of my father is at stake." ^ "You cannot go. It must n.ver be «ud that I02 Warwick of the Knobs John Morgan, even to save his life, permitted one like you to risk a danger like this." The girl kneeled beside the stranger, and, taking his hand, pressed it to her lips. "General Morgan? Is this General John Morgan ir our home? God bless you, sir. lean save you ; come to the cliffs, to the cliffs before it is too late." "Child," said the soldier, raising the girl to her feet — "child, the risk to you is great, too great." "I know the path even better than my father does. I have taken no oath. I will save the honor of my father. Let me guide you to the great cavern under the cliff; and, once there, you shall need nothing, for Joshua will return when morning comes, and bring you food." "But the danger to you, child. Think of the danger," said Morgan. "My brothers, sir; two of them are Morgan's men. Need I say more?" "Shall I go?" said the general, turning to the doctor. "Yes. She is to be trusted; she knows the knobs. True, she runs a risk, but — " " I Am A Warwick, Sir " 103 "I run no risk, sir. I am prepared. See!" The girl took from beneath her shawl a revolver. "This I shall use if necessary. There is no danger, sir." "Lead on, child;" and from the house John Morgan passed that night, led by this child, who, when no cause was at stake, recoiled from a clap of thunder, but faced now the forest wilds of the Gunpowder cliffs and knobs in behalf of the chief whom her brothers followed to battle. It was the ijray of the morning when the girl returned. Her garments were torn and tattered, her hair was dishevelled, her hands and feet were lacerated, foi briers and thorns lock themselves close together over those Gunpowder thicket paths. In the gray of the morning she came back to her home; but just before reaching the house, where she hoped, unseen, to slip into her room, a side door opened, and the guest from the North stood before her. Without a word, like a frightened fawn, the surprised child sprang past him and ran into the house, going directly to the room where she had left her father. Warwick sat in his chair; the lamp still burned It ( Itl i 104 Warwick of the Knobs on the stand by his side. Its rays fell upon the open Hible in his lap, where could be read the passage: "Thou art my hope, O Lord God. Thou art my trust from my youth." But the trials of two nights had borne heavily; the minister was sleeping. The g.rl slipped to his side, blew out the lamp, pulled down the curtain, pressed her father's forehead with a light kiss, and then softly left the room. h CHAPTER XI. THAT JOHN MORGAN MIGHT LIVE. A WARWICK'S SACRIFICE. Joshua returned in time for breakfast. He made no reference to the cause of his absence, or to where he had spent the night. The scratches on the hands and face of his sister could not be hidden, but no comment was made con- cerning them. Lionel had returned from his early walk; Warwick once more sat at the head of the table. The family circle was again com- plete. As usual, Warwick opened the morning meal with an offering of thanks to the Giver of all blessings; no evidence of discontent with his lot could be gathered from tone or word. Once again he was the ruler of the home where every thought was directed to the wearing of a crown in a future heaven, but where frivolity and amusement on the earth of the present were con- sidered breeders of eternal frowns from Him who I ll '°S Warwick of the Knobs ruled both above and below. The meal was finished in comparative silence. As soon as possible after breakfast Mary nought her brother. •'Joshua, you were not at home last night." "l told you thet I would be back this mornin'." "VVjy did you leave so suddenly after father returned ?" "Sis, if you'll keep a secret, I'll tell you; but mum's the word now thet pap's tooken the oath." 'I am to be trusted, Joshua; you know I am " "Y.sterday as I got to the end of the row of corn I was cutting next the thic. et I heard a whis'le. It was the whis'Ie brother used to call me by when T was a little tot-Brother Samuel who IS with Morgan. You bet I was 'sprized' but I didn't let on. I jest answered back without turnm' my head, and then I worked my way to the top of the ridge to see ef any one war watchm' me. Yr u see, sis, I ain't too sure of thet rock-b-,nter from the North. But thar wan't no one m sight, so I jest worked back, and then slipped over the fence into the thicket. Thar sat brother on a stump. He looked monstrous thin and his head was shaved like a baby's. I knew A Warwick*! Sacri'-ce 109 that it wan't no time fer words, and I jest said so. Then I asked what war to be done. '"General Morgan has 'scaped from the Colum- bus Penitentiary,' says he, 'and Capt'n Hines and I got away with him. We separated ; he crossed the Ohio at Ludlow, while I went down to Ander- son's Ferry, fer it isn't safe fer so many to be together. I know the land, and kept out of sight. The woods is thick and bushes close. I got here early this mornin' without a soul seein' me. Tell father thet I'll slip into my room to-night, and, Joshua, bring me somethin' to eat. I'm as hungry as a bear.' "I started off, when he called me back. 'How's sister?' he asked. 'She's well, and growin' mighty fast. You'll be proud of sis, brother.' He drew his sleeve across his eyes. If he'd been a woman, instead of a man, I'd hev thought he war wantin' to cry. "'Joshua,' he said, 'I wants ter see sister powerful much. I've been in a lot of hot times since I jined Morgan, and have suffered mightily, and the end ain't yet. But I couldn't go back South without seein' sister ag'in, and thet's why I run this risk. Tell her thet I've got the little rebel i| H "° Warwick of the Knobs flag she made me and give me the night I slipped away. I stuffed it into my cheek when the Yanks captured us; they thought it war terbacker.' "I started off agin, and he called me back. 'Bring me a gun and pistol and some cartridges, and don't fergit somethin' ter eat," he said. Wall, sis, he eat a pile and then felt better. " 'How's father?' he asked. " 'I don't know, fer he ain't home. The old devil in blue caught him Sunday and took him to jail ; guess he'll be tooken to Camp Chase to-night lessen he takes the oath.' " 'He'll never tooken thet oath,' says brother; 'thet's settled. Did you see sis?' he asked. " 'No. She was not in the house.' '"Tell her I'll be home to-night after mid- night.' " 'What's new ?' " 'Nuthin'. Half the young fellers are in the Yankee army and half are with the rebels. Half the old men are watchin' the Home Guards, and the other half are laying quiet. We've got a boarder, a rock-hunter from the North. He's in your room, too. He takes me fer a greeny, and I guess I am one es he sees things; but we'll both A Warwick's Sacrifice 1 1 1 wait till terbacker's in ti.e barn befo.o we counts the hands. He's got his eye on me, and I'm watchin' him.' " 'I'll be home at midnight,' says brother, 'after the rock-hunter's asleep,' "Then he slipped into the thicket, and I went to work. When pap came home last night I knew somethin' hed gone wrong. When he said he had tooken the oath I knowcd the devil was to pay. Thet oath of Burbridge makes a man swear he'll drive his own kin away and report his own son. "Thet's why I left the room so sudden. Ef pap says he'll do et, he will ; and ef he swor he would report his own boy, he'd git on his horse and ride to the county seat without his breakfast to do et. "I was in a fi.x. Brother hadn't told me where he intended to hide, and I didn't know where to hunt. I looker! everywhere, fer I wanted to tell him to keep away from home, but it wan't any use. Before midnight I got awful blue, and went down to the thicket and waited. He didn't come. When I come back it was after tv.elve, but pap was up readin". I looked through the winder at him. Then I went to the thicket and whis'led "» Warwick of the Knobi i ,1 and whisled. No answer. I walked one place and another, but no brother .hewed iip. IVe been out all night, sis. He didnt come Iwck." Mary turned as white as death; her voice trembled strangely as she asked "Did you go to the cliffs ?" "N'o. Fer them's too far fer him to ht sneaked. He didn't need to go half a mile from here, fer nobody was looking fer him." The girl clasped her hands. Her face was drawn and ghastly. Her eyes were staring, as if she saw some horri.l thing. "Joshua. Brother Samuel will never come again, never, never." She twk him by the arm. "Come, let us find father." There was that in her voice which smote the awkward boy to his heart, and filled him with a strange dread. Together they went to the house, and entered their father's room. "Listen, father," said the girl. "Listen to what I have to tell about my trip last night." "About your trip last night," said Joshua; "I didn't know you made a trip." "When you looked through the window after midnight I was gone." Ty/JE Grcil Clif I'V I : A Warwick'i Sacrifice "J "Who went with you, »i*?" laid Joihua tu*> piciuusly. There wan't nn one home hut pap, the old niggers and the rock-hunter. Who went out with you after midnight?" "Let me tell my story." "Go on. dauK'itor," lajil Warwick. "I shall tell it from the heginning. We left the house together, Cicneral Morgan and I. The night was cold. We trudged through the long, wet, cicad grass. Drops of water scattered from the bushes over our heads. "It was not comi)letely dark, for the moon shone dimly through the treetops, though it was too young to give much light. We heard the hoot-owl crying from down in the Gun[)owder ravines, toward where we had to go. I thought the Yankees would surely hear him hoot at us. There were other sounds and other voices too. I thought of what you read out of the DibL. I saw the 'beasts full of eyes before and l)ehind' ; eyes were everywhere — beasts with faces like men and si.\ wings ; beasts full of eyes and with hundreds of feet and wings ; beasts with faces like a calf, and others with faces like lions. Oh, father, but I saw all you read about in that horri- ble story in the Bible." ii6 Warwick of the Knobs "Child," interrupted Warwick, "this is blas- phemy. Continue your story, leave the Word daric'^ir' °",'.^°^" '"'° '*'' """P ^'-^h- That dark hole was like a bottomless pit. I went in front. b,.ting down the briers that'hung ov" t Path^Up,outofthecreek,upandon^„ti,he moon^agam came from behind the hill, and The girl stopped, and there came again over her face the look of horror. "And then what, daughter'" in'i:tZdn:LTr-^T"''''^^ oiiu. 1 saw It glitter m the moonlight- I saw us muzzle pointing at us. The man was' standmg between the moon and ourselves. I d d no^Icnowh.mthen.butIknowhimnow. And "What, girl.!'" "I drew my pistol from beneath my shawl and folo r'':, '"' ' '' ''' "^^ who'stcd L; to shoot us down. This is what war brings to us, my father-to us who live here in String^own County; to shoot first or die first, my fSr Would to God I had been the one to diel" T^ A Warwick's Sacrifice 117 "The story." "We went on, for the man disappeared as if he had melted away; on and on, to the cliflfs. There I left the friend I had guided in safety; there I left him, promising to send Joshua to-<:ay with food. I came back alone through the night. Oh, the awful creatures— beasts, devils— that rose up, that flew overhead, that crouched before and behind me! I ran through the briers, through the bushes, over the hills; the claws of the wild beasts touched my dress and tore it; the claws of the devils reached out for my face'and arms and limbs, and scraped the skin until the blood came, but I got home at last— home; and, my father, your honor was saved; the name of Warwick, my father." "And this is all you have to say ?" "No." Joshua spoke now. "No, pap, I have this to say: In case the man my sister shot is Brother Samuel, he would not have been shot had you not tooken that oath of Burbridge." Warwick rose up. "Samuel? Why do you say Samuel.'" "Because with General Morgan he escaped from the Columbus Penitentiary; because in the ;i.. back thicket yesterday he left me, promising to come last night to our house Jest after n, Zigh ° because had you not tooken thet oath, you would have gu.ded John Morgan, and my Lr°Z shoot down whoever stood in the path " ofttwicl'"''''^^"^'^''"-"^-^^'^'^^- of theTth ' t° Vr' '' "^ ^'^'"'^ ''^"^' "— ot the oath . took to save the honor of Warwick? Samue , my boy, my boy! Woe is me; Tr ow and grief are my lot; rough is the path my feeT Tn^L Sw' "■"' ^° -^'''- Yetmu'stl^t: •nfauh because of trials of the flesh. Oh, my Sch 'T t ^r"' """^ "°* ^'''^ G-d Book S 'and thTt'TH '';'^* '''' ^"'^•^^ "<= nght. and that Thou m faithfulness hast afflicted bacITnd'''; t'' °' '" ""^'°"^ «="' ''^ «t-de back and for h, seemingly overwhelmed by his rJanTS;- ^— — PP^ng^-t dJ]f T'' *° """ ""^- ^''^ '»^" "'ay not be dead; he may not be Samuel. Folio/ me my A Warwick's Sacrifice ^ diildren. Oath or no oath, if it be my son Samuel, to this home shall he come, alive or dead." He shook his clenched fist above his head, his knuckles striking the ceiling. "Even though Burbridge hang me to a limb the next day, oath or no oath, I'll care for my son who came into my life before I was forced to take the cursed oath." iii;i CHAPTER XII. A LETTER. •'My Dear Charley: The ominous signs about which I told you in my last letter have matenahzed. These people begin to concern me more than I could have believed possible. They are a study, an enigma, a living puzzle. I am treated kmdly, courteously, given every atten- '°"' r ^!' ^ "°^ ''""'' "'^' I =•" held at arm's ength Thmgs before my eyes are but half seen • the other half I know nothing about, nor can my questions bring an answer "Old man Warwick works and prays and preaches, quotes Scripture and sings psalms; but I half beheve he does some things he does not pray about audibly, and it is evident the others too, are concerned in matters that are covered from me. It seems like a novel story, in which instead of satisfying, the reader. But before :,^"''°" f°-I''Uct-oh.welI.r„Uh° •'But I :j,ust tell you about this clown of a boy. Ha, hat If I could only get him North with us for one day what fun we would have! Pie's a gawk; you ought to see him. The other day I crossed over to where he was suckering tobacco. Joshua. I said, "if you ever visit me up North d7a!iro:t: '" °' ^""■' ^-'-^edupand " 'Pa^ nreached 'bout a feller nam.d Samson, whomau nferjestsechasetoffolks. You'd better let me stay in the terbacker patch and work, fer I moijght not make the kind of fun you want.' 1 could not make out wheti.er the clown was >n earnest or talking at random, so I just took out one of my cards and I flipped it at him " 'That's my address. Joshua; glad to see you when you come; and if you propose to play Sam- son, do not cut your hair.' nn'^'f ,'r'' *'''"^' '^''^ dreadfully mixed here. One of Warwick's sons was found dead in the ■ 122 Warwick of the Knobs hills. He had been shot through the heart. The strange part of it is that no eflFort was made to discover the murderer. " 'Joshua,' I said, 'do you not suspect any person ?' " 'Ef I do, I don't tolk. These ain't times to talk.' "Not another word could I draw from him. "Oh, yes ! I forgot to say that this son was a rebel soldier, one of Morgan's cavalrymen, who recently escaped from Columbus Penitentiary. His father preached the funeral sermon, and as far as I could determine preached him to the devil. The daughter sorrows deeply. She made no outcry, no demonstration; but she seemed dazed, and has not been herself since. "'Miss Warwick,' I said yesterday, 'your brother was a soldier. Those who go into the war risk their lives. Is it wise to grieve un- reasonably even for one as dear as a brother?' "She turned her eyes upon me in a way I cannot find words to express. " 'He did not die on the field of battle. Would to God it had been so. Did you know all—' then she stopped. I A Letter 125 " 'But, Miss Warwick, you are not to blame, because — ' " 'Hush r she interrupted, 'do not speak to me of things I know better than do you, nor is it wise for you to mix in affairs that do not concern you. Happy are you people of the North who see no war, whose brothers march forth in open day, whose sisters need not listen in the night for a brother's tap on the door, and listen in vain, as I have done.' " 'But, Miss Warwick, we have our part in the war. Our loved ones go out to fight and suffer and die.' " 'To you of the North war is something afar; to us war is at our doors night and day. God only knows what will come next.' "Charley, the more I see of this girl, the more convinced I am that she should see something of the world. It is a shame to hide a creature like this in these woods among these hills. Isn't it strange, a pretty woman is bewitching when she smiles, captivating when she laughs, and charm- ing when, without smile or laugh, she looks vou m the eye. But when the teardrop touches her 126 Warwick of the Knoh. 1 II not attempt it. " he she n the sunshine or the shadow But you know my failing nnd- Oh well it t; likely she and I will evU „- i , ' the table. ^ '''*"*'' ""^ """^ ..p c "LlONEU «n^ if ^^ '"'''' •"»"' ""d » all-seeine and all-powerful, He knows what man's Terf action will be. If He knows this, Tn. ^eS i:rnrr/''°'*"''^"^«-"<'^ar «e could have prevented, who is to blame.' Eh knew all thmgs to come for all time, He knew use what every man would do. If He knew thT and does not prevent his doing things He dU consent, and, hence, is not responsible. See' Or agam. 'If God made man, and kneu all ^hmgs and planned all thmgs in Ihe beting He laid down what must be done- and hrj' man can only do what Tod ( 7'- ' should do.' Thisla^tth^lKT'^^'"*' •"• * last IS the substance of War- A Letter 127 wick'i text every Sunday as well as his creed the week through ; and if the occasion ever requires, I'll pull it on him. "L." CHAPTER XIII. "ONCl MORE THE SHADOWS FLICKEUKD." For a time over the home on the knob the days passed as pass the days „f a calm that sometimes follows one storm period and precedes another. Lionel studied his rocks and collected specimen., Joshua cut and lump his tolsacco, and his father! as usual, both preached and worked. The girl became gradually more reconciled to the death of her brother, and Warwick seemed to take less to heart the odium that rested on his name because of that humiliating oath. But the Home Guards still ro,le over the hill roads, and l^tit the bushes by their sides ; many were the residents of String- town County who slept more frequently out of doors than in the house. Rut Warwick gave these things no further concern, nor was he again disturbed by the Home Guards. Seemingly the trials of this man of God were at an end. And Once More the Shadowi Flickered 1 29 that Warwick thought »o, too, wii ihiiwn by his •election of the morning and e>ening Scriptural verses. Had the old man. however, studied his Bible ''"ss. and thought more of earthly than of spiritual things, he would have noticetl the change that came over his daughter, who no longer seemed to shun the visitor from the North. He wo'ild have seen that she was becoming interested in the fossil stones and in the mammoth bones, and that she often walked to the road to bid the naturalist gooe ban, 11 not be the only thing in case when Christmas comes. You say sister '11 be helped 'nght early.' Well, it 'pears so to me " "Go to your work, Joshua. If you would study your Bible more and think less of woridly mat- ters. It would be better. Go to your work, sir " Once More the Shadows Flickered 131 As the days jiassed the words of Joshua con- cerning the girl's "softening" seemed to be des- tined for fulfilment. The girl did soften. Her eyes told that her interest in the guest had deepened into something more; her conversation with Lionel was not now altoget! about the fossil stones and prehistoric bones of Stringtown County. Lionel was not long in perceiving the change that came to this girl who never even attended one of the neighborhood picnics, who had pleaded vainly to be allowed to join a party of frolicking young people bound for a pleasure jaunt at Big Bone Springs; who, whenever such desires were expressed, had been told to read her Bible and shun the wiles of the devil. Beneath the very eye of the father who, when at home, sat studying his book, thinking of his sermon, Lionel told Mary about other scenes, and pictured to her the pleasures that came to those who were not forced to forego the joys of life-joys that should come to all who pass from childhood into womanhood. But not a word did . > say against her father's religion and her own. Only life's bright side, its joyous side— the 132 Warwick of the Knobs side that enraptures the mind of the unwary-, was held before her in glowing colors. She was taught to contrast her own lot with that of other girls; to contrast the methods of her father and that of other fathers. But, while the two vvere thus drawing closer to each other, unobserved by the man whose duty led him to search the Scrip- tures and neglect his daughter, the brother was less religious and less blind. One day Joshua abruptly left the tobacco bam, and turned his steps toward the localities where Lionel spent his time in .« .-ch of specimens; toward the spot where that morning from a knob Joshua had seen him breaking stones. The meet- ing was unexpected to Lionel. "That you, Joshua?" "Yes, and I'm here fer bus'ness. I hain't goin' ter beat 'round the bush, neither. You come here to study rocks vacation time, you say?" "Yes, Joshua, that's my business." "School begun two months ago. When does vacation end?" The woids were direct. Lionel saw the boy had more to say. "Go on, Joshua." "I don't intend to ask nuthin' wrong. But you I Once More the Shadow s Flickered 133 ain't studyin" rocks like you did at first. You ain't of our people, and never will be. Thet's what I come to say." "True, Joshua, I am not related to you, but that need not disturb either of us." "Ef you stay here much 'ouger, there may be trouble thet you don't expect. It may not be perlite, but it is bus'ness fer me to say thet vaca- tion times are over, and I don't mean 'ny wrong when I says it." "You think, Joshua, I had better return to college?" "Exactly." "Well, I have arranged to leave next week. Can you take my collection of specimens to Covingfton ?" "I'll haul it the day you pick out; and the quicker, the better." "Next week, Tuesday, Joshua, will suit me," V as the reply. "Thank you, sir. Don't tell pap 'bout our talk. I don't mean -o harm er not ter be perlite, but we Stringtown County people treats the stranger fair; and I jest thought et war 'bout time fer vacation ter end." I I I*.: a Il'lf°"'7 ^""''''^ ^^""■'^'^ '"^ft home for the beech woods on the Stringtown Pike rZ days later Joshua loaded Lionefs Je^ir^ttl sp^ ^ensa^^d started to Covington ^ith^Er; '" "'^ "°^"'"S- But the roads out of the knoh^ haule^J'. 1° "" '"'"''• '^' ''°"« that hauled the lumber wagon down the pike moved tS' t " r.'^'"^ ^' "'^"^ when^josh:::? urn«l. He unh.tched his team, turned them into he back pasture, and quietly slipped into hs room, so as not to disturb the sleejirs Next morning when he appeared the breakfast- table was spread for but one person; the old Wad woman was in waiting. The heart of th. bo Jat Lionel called a "gi,n,p" sank. ' "Where's sister.?" The old woman turned in surprise. Yo know she went to the 'sociation." VVhen.'' "Yisterdy mahn II ' "Who went with her?" "Ma'se Lionel." "How did they go?" '! ! Once More the Shadows Flickere d 135 "In the buggy," For a moment the listener sat in silence; then he muttered: "Pap's book war right when it said she would be helped 'right early.' " In silence he stoically ate his breakfast. If his tnmd was active, no facial expression indicated the fact. Indeed, he seemed actually unconcerned about the news that to him so unexpectedly told of his sister's elopement. Before breakfast was over the old negress announced that a man was coming toward the house from off the creek road-"a man in blue " she added. Joshua started up at once. That finll sentence produced in him an unple.'iant sensation He stepped to the door. About half-way up the hill a Federal soldier was riding leisurely His horse seemed spiritless, the rider indifferent to surroundings. He was unarmed. That he was not a Home Guard was evident. For a moment Joshua was undecided. Should he go out of the back door and into the thicket or stay and meet the intruder? Then, making up his mmd, he advanced to the front gate. "Does P-eacher Warwick live here?" "Yes, sir." fef 136 Warwick of the Knobs "May 1 see him?" "He's not at home." The man reflected. "When will he return?" "I can't say." Joshua did not ask the cavalry, man to alight. He did not care for his company. "I have a message for Mr. Warwick." "Ef you'll tell me, I'll tell pap." "You are his son?" "Yes." "It concerns him. I am to deliver it to your father. Can you not tell me when you expect him home?" "He's gone to the 'sociation. It lets out to-day. He'll be home to-night." "I shall wait, for I must speak to Mr War- wick." "Breakfast's jest ready, and you're welcome to stay. I hope you hev brought good news." •The traveller dismounted, and Joshua led his horse to the stable, and there to himself finished the sentence. "But ef you hev good news, et's mo'ne any bluecoat ever yit brought to any War- wick." The soldier ate his breakfast, drew a pipe, made Once More the Shadows Fl ickered 137 himself comfortable, and waited for Warwick, who did not come until the sun had gone down and Joshua had come in from the barn and the evening meal had been placed on the table. After supper the three men sat together in the common sitting-room. If Warwick had observed the absence of either his daughter or the natural- ist, he made no reference to the fact; the lamp burned dimly; once more the shadows flickered. ^ CHAPTER XIV. "tell my father that I STOOD AS A WARWICK SHOULD, AND DIED AS A WARWICK SHOULD DIE." "Mr. Warwick, you had a son in the Confed- erate army, had you not?" "I had two sons in the service of the Confeder- acy. One lies now in the graveyard on the hill, the other still serves the South." "One lies in the graveyard on the hill? Which hill?" "The knob beside Old Gunpowder, sir. Six weeks ago we buried him." "We do not refer to the same son, Mr. War- wick. The man I knew does m , lie in your graveyard on GunpowderHill." Then he changed the subject. "Let me tell my story, Mr. War- wick." He paused for a moment, began his tale, and soon was in the midst of it. "Back and forth," he was saying, "the blue and I ll li t "I Died As A Warwick' [4^ 8T«y scouts had secawed; back when the rebel, pressed hard, and out again when tlie North was strongest: back and forth until the reWs were remforce