MELLICHAMPE 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE SANTEE. 
 
 BY W. GILMORE SIMMS. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE PARTISAN," "THE YEMASSEE," "KATHERINE WALTON," 
 "THE SCOUT," "WOODCRAFT," "GUY RIVERS," ETC. 
 
 ~RS1TY 
 
 ^&UFOI 
 
 1R$&i0*& 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO, 
 
 407-425 DEARBORN STREET 
 1890 
 
M4/N 
 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 .Tut story which follows is rather an episode in tliej.rc.gresB 
 jf the "Partisan," than a continuation of that romance. It 
 * no necesarv connection with the previous story, nor does 
 ?t form any portion of that series originally contemplated by 
 the author, with the view to an illustration of the several 
 prominent periods in the history of the revolution in 8outh 
 Carolina; although it employs similar events, and disposes of 
 borne of the personages iirst introduced to the reader by that 
 initial pnolication. The action of " Melliehampe" ne^-ins. it 
 is true, .vliere the " Partisan" left off; and the story opens by 
 H resumption of one of the suspended threads of that narrative. 
 Beyond this, there is no connection between the two works ; 
 and the reader will perceive that even this degree of affinity 
 has been maintained simply to indicate that the etories belong 
 to the same family, and to prevent the necessity of breaking 
 ground anew. Much preliminary narrative has thus been 
 avoided ; and I have been enabled to obey the good old, pop 
 ular, but seldom-practised rnixim of plunging at once into the 
 bowels of my subject. The " Partisan wa projected as a 
 sort of ground-plan, of sufficient extent to admit of the subse 
 quent erection if any fabric upon it which the caprice of the 
 author, or the q tintity of his material, might seem to warrant 
 ,nd encourage. 
 
 The two works \\ .licli I projected to follov the " Partisan," 
 iiiid to complete the series, were intended to comprise evecta 
 
55 ADYKKTIS1CMKNT. 
 
 more strictly historical than those which have b r en employed 
 in this " Santec legend." The reader must not, however, on 
 hearing this, he less inclined to accept " Mjellj.cluLiup.e" as an 
 historical romance. It is truly and legitimately such. It is 
 imbued with "lie facts, and, I believe, so far as I myself may 
 be admitted as *. : udge, it portrays truly the condition of the 
 time. The events made use of are all historical ; and scarcely* 
 ;\ page of the v/ork, certainly not a chapter of it, is waiting in 
 the evidence whkh must support the assertion. Tl*e career 
 of Marion, as here described during the precise period occu 
 pied by the narrative, is correct to the very letter of the writ 
 ten history. The story of Barsfield, so far as it relates to 
 public events, is not less so. The account which the lattei 
 gives of himself to Janet Berkeley occurring in the thir 
 *y -seventh chapter is related of him by tradition, and bears 
 i close resemblance to the recorded history of the notorious 
 uolonel Brown, of Augusta, one of the most malignant and 
 vindictive among the southern loyalists, and one who is 
 eaid to have become so solely from the illegal and unjusti 
 fiable means which were employed by the patriots to make 
 him otherwise. The whole history is one of curious interest, 
 and, if studied, of great public value. It shows strikingly 
 the evils to a whole nation, and through successive years, 
 of a single act of popular injustice. Certainly, as the ebul 
 litions of popular justice, shown in the movements of revo 
 lution, are of most terrible effect, and of most imposing conse 
 quence ; so the commission of a crime, by the same hands, 
 must, in like degree, revolt, the sensibilities of the freeman, 
 and inspire him with a hatred which, as it is well-founded, 
 ind sanctioned by humanity itself, must be unforgiving P.nd 
 extreme. The excesses of patriotism, when attaining power, 
 have been but too frequently productive of a tyranny more 
 dangerous in its exercise, and more lasting in ils effects, than 
 the despotism which it was invoked to overthrow. 
 
 The death of Gabriel Marion, the nephew of the general, 
 varies somewhat, in the romance, from the account given of the 
 same event by history ; but the story is supported by tradition. 
 The purs .t of the "swamp fox" by Colonel Tarletou a pur- 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. J 
 
 suit dwelt upon with imich satisfaction by our historians, ns an 
 admirable specimen of partisan ingenuity on both sides, follows 
 closely the several authorities, which it abridges. The char 
 acter of Tarleton, and his deeds at this period, present a sin 
 gular contrast, in some respects, to what was known of him 
 before. His popularity waned with his own party, and hi\- 
 former enemies began to. esteem him more favorably Wo 
 have, in Carolina, several little stories, such as that in "Meil: 
 shampe," in which his human feelings are allowed to appear, 
 at brief moments, in opposition to his wonted practices, and 
 quite at variance with his general character. Nor do I see 
 that there is any inconsistency between these several charac 
 teristics. The sensibilities are more active at one momer.t 
 than at another; and he whose mood is usually merciless and 
 unsparing, may now and then be permitted the blessing of a 
 tear, and the indulgence of a tenderness, under the influence 
 of an old and hallowed memory, kept alive and sacred in some 
 little corner of the heart when all is ossified around it. 
 
 The destruction of the mansion-house at "Piney Grove" by 
 Major Singleton, and the means employed to effect this object, 
 will be recognised by the readers of Carolina history, and the 
 lover of female patriotism, as of true occurrence in every point 
 of view; the names of persons alone being altered, and a 
 slight variation made in the locality. Indeed, to sum up all 
 in brief, the entire materials of " Mellichampe" the leading 
 events every general action and the main characteristics, 
 have been taken from the unquestionable records of history, 
 and in the regard of the novelist the scarccTyTess c redihle 
 testimonies of that venerable and moss-mantled Druid, Tradi 
 tion. I have simply forborne to call it an historical romance, 
 as it contained nothing which made an era in the time noth 
 ing which, in its character and importance, had a visible effect 
 upon the progress of the revolution. Let us now pass to other 
 topics 
 
 It is in bad taste, and of very doubtful policy, for an author 
 to quarrel with his critics : the laugh is most usually against 
 him when he does so. 1 shall not commit this error, and ho ^o 
 not to incur this penalty ; nor, indeed, have I any good cause 
 
ANN KUTiSKMKNT. 
 
 to justify me in the language of complaint. My critics have 
 usually been indulgent to me far beyond my merits ; and I ca^ 
 :ee a thousand imperfections in my own books which they 
 have cither failed to discover, or forborne, in tenderness, to 
 :!\vell upon. Farther, I may confess and I find no shame in 
 iloing so whenever they have dwelt upon deficiencies and 
 defects, I am persuaded that, in most cases, they have done so 
 with perfect justice. In many instances 1 have availed my 
 self <)f their opinions, and subsequent editions of my stories 
 have always borne testimony to the readiness with which, 
 whene- er this has been the case, I have adopted their sugges 
 tions. Sometimes, it is true, an occasional personal and un 
 friendly reference perhaps a show of feelings even more 
 equivocal in the case of some random reviewer has grazed 
 harshly upon sensibilities which are not legitimate topics of 
 critical examination; but even these evidences of unjust as 
 sumption and false position have been more than counteracted 
 by the considerate indulgence of the vast majority the kind 
 ness of the reader having more than neutralized the asperities 
 of the reviewer. 
 
 But while, in general, the opinions of the critic are acknowl 
 edged with respect and held in regard, there are one or two 
 topics upon which I would willingly be justified with him. 
 O le friendly reviewer a gentleman whose praise has usually 
 been of the most generous and least qualified character one 
 whoss taste and genius are alike unquestionable, and whose 
 own achievements in this department give him a perfect right 
 to be heard on all matters of romance has made some few 
 abjections to portions of the " Partisan," and with all defer 
 ence to his good judgment, and after the most cautious con 
 sideration I am persuaded, with injustice. He objects to 
 that story, in the first place, as abrupt and incomplete. That 
 ,t is unfinished that the nice hand has been wanting to 
 smooth down and subdue its rude outlines into grace and soft 
 ness in many parts I doubt not I deny not. The work 
 //9.3 too rapidly prepared for that; and the finish of art can 
 jnly be claimed by a people wilh \\hom art is a leading object 
 l*o other people are well able to pay for it no other people 
 
AnVKUTiSKMKNT. 
 
 ire will ing to pay for it ; ;niil. under tlie necessity of haste, the 
 arts in our country must continue to struggle on, until the 
 wealth of the people so acciinuilat.es as to enable the interior 
 to react upon the Atlantic cities. When the forests shall cease 
 to be attractive, we may look for society to become stationary ; 
 and, until that is the case, we shall look in vain for the per 
 fection of any of the graceful and refining influences of a na 
 tion. But the objection of my friend was one of more narrow 
 ing compass: it was simply to the story, as a story, that he 
 urged its want of finish its incompleteness. This objection 
 is readily answered by a reference to the plan of the "Parti 
 san," as set forth in the preface to that Avork. The story was 
 proposed as one of a series, the events mutually depending 
 upon each other for development, and the fortunes of the 
 personages in the one narrative providing the action and the 
 interest of all. This plan rendered abruptness unavoidable; 
 and nobody who read the preface, and recognised the right of 
 an author to lay down his own standards and prescribe his 
 own plans, could possibly utter these objections. The design 
 may have been unhappy, and in that my error may have lain ; 
 but, surely, no objection can possibly lie to the incompleteness 
 or abruptness of the one and introductory story, if no exception 
 was taken to the plan at first. 
 
 Another, and, perhaps, more serious cause of issue lies be 
 tween us. My friend objects to the preponderance of low and 
 vulgar personages in my narrative. The question first occurs, 
 " Does the story profess to belong to a country and to a period 
 of history which are alike known and does it misrepresent 
 either?" If it does not, the objection will not lie. In all 
 othsr respects it is the objection of a romanticist of one who 
 is willing to behold in the progress of society none but its 
 most lofty and elevated attributes who will not look at the 
 materials which make the million, but who picks out from their 
 number the man who should wdc, not. the men who should 
 re-present who requires every second person to be a demigod, 
 or hero, at the Isast and who scorns all conditions, that only 
 excepted which is the ideal of a pure mind and delicate imagi 
 nation. To make a fairy tale, or a tale in which none but the 
 
6 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 colors of the rose ujcl rainbow shall predominate, is a very 
 different, and, let me add, a far less difficult matter, than to 
 depict life as we discover it man in all his_nliascs, as lie is 
 modified by circumstance, and moulded by education and 
 man as the optimist would have, and as the dreamer about 
 inane perfectibility delights to paint him. My object usually 
 has been to adhere, as closely as possible, to the features 
 and the attributes of real life, as it is to be found in the 
 precise scenes, and under the governing circumstances some 
 of them extraordinary and romantic, because new in which 
 my narrative has followed it. In this pursuit, I feel con 
 fident that I have " nothing extenuated, nor set down aught 
 in malice." I certainly feel that, in bringing the vulgar 
 and the vicious mind into exceeding activity in a story of 
 the borders, I have done mankind no injustice ; and while 
 I walk the streets of the crowded city, and where laws are 
 said to exist, and in periods which, by a strange courtesy, 
 are considered civilized, I am still less disposed to admit that 
 my delineations of the species in the wilds of our country, and 
 during the strifes of foreign and intestine warfare, arc drawn 
 in harsh colors and by a heavy hand. I am persuaded that 
 vulgarity and crime must always preponderate dreadfully 
 preponderate in the great majority during a period of war; 
 and no argument would seem necessary to sustain the asser 
 tion, when we look at the insolence and brutality of crime, as 
 it shows itself among us in a time of peace. Certainly, if 
 argument be needed, we shall not have to look far from GUI 
 great cities for the evidence in either case. 
 
 W. G. S. 
 
,VRV~ 
 
 OR^ 
 
 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CURTAIN RISES. 
 
 THE battle of Dorchester was over ; the victorious partisans, 
 successful in their object, and bearing away with them the 
 prisoner whom they had rescued from the felon s death, were 
 already beyond the reach of their enemies, when Major Proc 
 tor, the commander of the British post, sallied forth from his 
 station in the hope to retrieve, if possible, the fortunes of the 
 day. A feeling of delicacy, and a genuine sense of pain, 
 had prompted him to depute to a subordinate officer the duty 
 of attending Colonel Walton to the place of execution. The 
 rescue of the prisoner had the effect of inducing in his mind 
 a feeling of bitter self-reproach. The mortified pride of the 
 soldier, tenacious of his honor, and scrupulous on the subject 
 of his trust, succeeded to every feeling of mere human forbeai- 
 ance ; and, burning with shame and indignation, the moment 
 he heard a vague account of the defeat of the guard and the 
 rescue of Walton, he led forth the entire force at his command, 
 resolute to recover the fugitive or redeem his forfeited credit 
 by his blood. He had not been prepared for such an event as 
 that which has been already narrated in the last pages of 
 The Partisan," and was scarcely less surprised, though more 
 
 i* 
 
MKLUCHAMI E. 
 
 resolute and ready, than the astounded soldiers un^er his com 
 mand. How should he have looked for the presence of any 
 force of the rebels at such a moment, when the defeat and 
 destruction of Gates s army, so complete as it had been, hai 
 paralyzed, in the minds of all, the last hope of the Americans 1 
 With an audacity that seemed little less than madness, and 
 was desperation, a feeble but sleepless enemy had darted in 
 between the fowler and his prey had wrested the victim of 
 the conqueror from his talons, even in the moment of his fierce 
 repast; and, v,ith a wild courage and planned impetuosity, 
 had rushed into the very ja\vs of danger, without shrinking, 
 and with the most complete impunity. 
 
 The reader of the work of which the present is offered as 
 a continuation, will perhaps remember the manner in which we 
 found it necessary to close that story. It was from a scene 
 of bloody strife that AVC hurried the chief personages of the 
 narrative ; and, only solicitous for their safety, paused not to 
 consider the condition of the field, or of the other parties who 
 remained behind. To that field we will now return, and at a 
 moment which leaves it almost, doubtful whether, in reality, 
 the strife be ended. The cry of men in their last agony 
 the panting prayer for a drop of water from the gasping wretch, 
 through whose distended mouth the life-blood pours forth more 
 freely than the accents that implore Heaven and man alike 
 for succor and relief the continued flight of the affrighted 
 survivors, and the approaching rush of Proctor s troop these 
 speak as loudly for the dreadful conflict as the shrill blast of 
 the hurrying trumpet, or the sharp clashing of conflicting 
 steel. The beautiful town of Dorchester, in a bright flame at 
 several points, illumined with an unnatural glare the surround 
 ing fields and foliage, and, with the shrieks of flying women 
 and children, still more contributed to the terrible force of the 
 picture. The ruddy light bathed and enveloped for miles 
 around, with a brilliancy deeper than that of the sun, the high 
 tops of the towering pines, while the thick dense smoke, 
 ascending over all, hung sluggishly and dark in the slum 
 berous sky of August, like some of those black masses of 
 storm that usually come in the train, and burst in ruin ove* 
 
TITE CURTAIN RISES. 11 
 
 the southern cities, with the flight of the sister mopth of Sep 
 tember. 
 
 The hurry of Major Proctor was in vain, He came too late 
 to retrieve the fortunes of the fight. The partisans had 
 melted away like so many shadows. Vain were all his efforts, 
 and idle his chagrin. He could only gaze in stupid wonder 
 ment upon the condition of the field, admiring and deploring 
 that valor Avhich had eluded his own, and set at naught all his 
 precautions. Never had surprise been more complete ; never 
 had enterprise been better planned or more perfectly executed, 
 with so much hazard, and with so little loss. The whole 
 affair was one to annoy the British commander beyond all 
 calculation. There was nothing to remedy there was no 
 hope of redress. The rebels were beyond his reach ; and, 
 even were they not, the force under Proctor was quite too 
 small, and the condition of his trust, in and about Dorchester, 
 of too much hazard and importance, to permit of his pursuing 
 them. Convinced of this, he turned his attention to the field 
 of battle, every step in the examination of which only con 
 tributed the more to his mortification and regret. Several of 
 his best soldiers lay around him in the last agonies or the final 
 slumbers of death ; several were maimed or wounded, and 
 the few who survived and had fled from the unlooked-for com 
 bat, had not, in every instance, escaped unhurt. But few of 
 the partisans had fallen, and their wounds had all been fatal. 
 They were no longer at the mercy of any human conqueror. 
 There was none upon whom the mortified commander, had he 
 been so disposed, could wreak his vengeance, and punish for 
 the audacity of his rebel leader. The bitterness of his mood 
 increased with th<3 conviction that there was no victim upon 
 whom to pour it forth. Revenge and regret were alike 
 unavailing. 
 
 While thus he mused upon the gloomy prospect and the 
 bloody field, the soldiers, who, meanwhile, had been dispersed 
 about in the inspection of the adjoining woods and scene of 
 strife, came before him, bringing an individual whom they had 
 found, the only one who seeme\J to have escaped unhurt in the 
 combat. Yet he was found where the strife appeared to hav 
 
MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 been hottest. A pile of dead bodies was around him, and 
 when discovered, lie was employed in turning over the sense 
 less carcases and dragging them apart, as if searching for some 
 particular object. The British major started when he beheld 
 him ; and, as he gazed upon the bronzed, sinister, and well- 
 known features, and saw with what calm indifference the blear 
 I eye of the half-breed Blonay met his own, a doubt of his fidel 
 ity grew active, at the expense of one whose character had 
 always been too equivocal to be held above the commission of 
 the basest treachery. The brow of the Briton put on new 
 terrors as he surveyed him; and, glad of any victim, even 
 though not the most odious, he addressed the reckless savage 
 in the sternest language of distrust. 
 
 " What do you here, Blonay ? Speak quickly, and without 
 evasion, or you shall swing, by heaven, on that gallows, instead 
 of him whom you have helped from it. Tell out the whole 
 story of this traitorous scheme unfold the share you had in 
 it, and who were your abettors who rescued the prisoner 
 by whom were they commanded how many and where 
 are they gone ? Answer, fellow ; answer, and without delay ; 
 speak out !" 
 
 Proctor could scarcely articulate his own requisitions, so 
 intense were his anxiety and passion. The person addressed 
 seemed almost totally unmoved by an exhortation so earnestly 
 made, or only moved to defiance. His swarthy cheek grew 
 even darker in its. depth of hue, and his lips were now reso 
 lutely fastened together, as he listened to the language of his 
 superior. His air, full of scornful indifference, and his position, 
 lounging and listless, might have provoked Proctor to an act 
 of violence, had they been maintained much longer. But, as 
 if moved by more prudent counsels from within, the half-breed, 
 in a moment after, changed his posture to one of more respect* 
 ful attention. The rigidity passed away from his muscles 
 his high cheek-bones seemed to shrink his eyes were lowered 
 and his head, which had been elevated before into an un 
 wonted loftiness, was now suffered, in compliance with his 
 usual habit, to fall upon one shoulder. His mood grew more 
 Conciliatory as he proceeded to reply to one, at least, of the 
 
THE CURTAIN itISIOS. 13 
 
 several questie .is which Proctor had asked him, almost in a 
 breath. Siill, however, the reply of the half-breed AVAS found 
 rather to accord with the first than the last expression of his 
 air arid attitude. 
 
 " And if you was to hang me up, major, you wouldn t be any 
 the wiser, and would hear much less than if you was to let me 
 run." 
 
 " No trifling, sirrah, but speak to the point, and quickly : I 
 am in no mood for jest. Speak out, and say what is the part 
 you have taken in this business. The truth, sirrah the 
 truth only will serve you." 
 
 " I m no rebel, major, as you ought to know by this time. 
 As for the truth, I m sure I can tell it, if you d ax me one 
 thing at a time. I a n t sparing of the truth when I ve 
 got it." 
 
 "I do know you, sirrah, and know you too well to trust 
 you much. Briefly, then, and without prevarication, do you 
 know tb.e parties who rescued Colonel Walton ? What do 
 you know of the matter 1 The whole truth ; for I have the 
 means of knowing whether you speak falsely or not." 
 
 " Well, now, major, I knows no great deal ; but what I 
 knows is the truth, and that I ll tell. The men wliofoui here 
 were Marion s men, I reckon. I looked out from the bay- 
 bushes there; I was doubled up in a heap, and I seed the 
 whole business, from the very first jump." 
 
 " Relate the matter." 
 
 "Relate oh, ay tell it, you mean. Why, then, sir, 
 the rebels came down the trace, from out the cypress, I reckon, 
 and " 
 
 " Who led them ?" demanded Proctor, impatiently. 
 
 " Why I reckon twas Major Singleton." 
 
 " Reckon ! Do you not know, sir ?" 
 
 " Well, yes, major, I may say I do, seeing that I seed him 
 myself." 
 
 " And why, sirrah, did you not shoot him down ? You knew 
 he was a rebel that a price was set upon his head that 
 yon could have rendered no better service to your king and 
 to yourself, than by bringing in the ears of a traitor BO 
 
** MELL10HAMPK. 
 
 troublesom j ! Had you not your rifle, sirrah ? Why, unless 
 you are a rebel like himself, did you not use it?" 
 
 " Adrat it, major, it did go agin me not to pull trigger ; but 
 you see, major, twould ha been mighty foolish now. More 
 than once I had the drop on both of em, and could easy 
 enough ha brought down one or t other with a wink ; but there 
 was no fun in it, to think of afterward. I was only one shot, 
 yon see, sir, and quite too close to get away. They were alJ 
 round me, and I had to lie mighty snug, or they d ha soon 
 mounted through the brush upon me like so many varmints ; 
 and the swamp s a good mile off too far off for a man that 
 wants to hide his head in a hurry. It s no use, major, you 
 know, to lose one for one, when one s all you ve got." 
 
 "Miserable coward !" exclaimed Proctor, with indignation. 
 " Miserable coward, to count chances at such a moment ; 
 throwing away so good an opportunity. But who was the 
 other person ? You spoke of another with Singleton." 
 
 "Eh 1 ? what 1 ?" was the vacant and seemingly unconscious 
 reply of Blonay. The impatience of Proctor appeared to 
 increase. 
 
 "The other the person beside Singleton. You said that 
 your aim was upon both of them." 
 
 A quick, restless, dissatisfied movement followed on the part 
 of the half-breed ; and, before he replied, he drew himself up 
 to his fullest height, while a darker red seemed to overshadow 
 his features. His answer was hurried, as if he desired to dis 
 miss the subject from his mind. 
 " T other was Bill Humphries-." 
 
 "And why have you named him, in particular, with Single 
 ton r 
 
 " Jause I only seed him." 
 
 " What ! you do not mean to say that these two men boat 
 tie guard and rescued the prisoner ?" demanded the Briton, 
 with astonishment. 
 
 "Adrat it, major, no I don t say so. There was a matter 
 of twenty on em and more ; but I didn t stop to look Alter the 
 rest. I took sight at them two first one and then t other; 
 and, more than once, when tlu-y \von> chopping right and l?.ft 
 
THE CURTAIN RISES. 16 
 
 aranng the red-coats, I could ha* dropped one or t other for cer- 
 tan, and would ha done so if twan t for the old woman. She 
 would go on the hill, you see." 
 
 " Who V isked the officer. 
 
 " Why, sir, the old woman. Jist when I was going to pull 
 trigger upon that skunk Humphries, as he came riding down 
 the road so big, I heard her cry out, and I couldn t help seeing 
 her. She did try hard to get out of the way of the horses, but 
 old people, major, you know, can t move fast like young ones, 
 and I couldn t help her, no how." 
 
 " Of whom do you speak now V demanded Proctor. " What 
 old woman are you talking of?" 
 
 Blonay simply lifted his finger, without changing counte 
 nance or position, while he pointed to a mangled carcass lying 
 a few paces from the place of their conference, It was there, 
 indeed, that the soldiers of Proctor, on their coming up, had 
 discovered him ; and the eye of the British major followed the 
 direction of Blonay s finger only to turn away in horror and 
 disgust. The miserable features were battered by the hoofs 
 of the plunging horses out of all shape of humanity, yet Proc 
 tor was not slow to comprehend the connection between the 
 vagrant before him .and his hag-like mother. Turning away 
 from the spectacle, he gave directions to the men to assist in 
 removing the carcass, under the direction of the son, whom he 
 how ever proceeded to examine still farther, and from whom, 
 after innumerable questions, he obtained all the leading par 
 ticulars of the fray. It seemed evident to Proctor, when his 
 first feeling of exasperation had subsided, that the bereaved 
 wretch before him was innocent of any participation in the as 
 sault of the partisans, and he soon dismissed him to the perfor 
 mance of those solemn offices of duty, the last which were to 
 be required at his hands for the parent he had lost. 
 
 Obedient to the commands of their superior, the soldiers drew 
 nigh, and proceeded to transfer the corpse to one of the carts, 
 which they had now already filled in part with the bodies 
 of some of those who had been slain. The son resisted them. 
 
 " You a n t going to have her to Dorchester burying-ground 
 eU" 
 
16 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 "To be sure where else?" was the gruff reply of the oi 
 c.ier having charge of the proceeding. 
 
 " Adrat it she won t go there," replied Blonay. 
 
 "And how the d 1 can she help herself? She s as deacl, 
 poor old creature, as a door-nail, and she s been hammered 
 much harder. See her head s all mashed to a mummy." 
 
 He raised the lifeless mass, and allowed it to fall heavily in 
 (lie cart, as if to convince the hearer, however unnecessarily, 
 that she no longer possessed a will in the transaction. Blonay 
 did not seem to heed the soldier, but explained his own mean 
 ing in the following words : 
 
 " There s a place nearer home the old woman wants to bci 
 buried in. She a n t guine to sleep quiet in the churchyard, 
 with all them people round her. If you wants to help me, now. 
 you must give me a cart on purpose, and then I ll show you 
 where to dig for her. She marked it out herself long time 
 ago." 
 
 His wish was at once complied with, as the orders of Maj-)r 
 Proctor had been peremptory. An additional cart was pro 
 cured, into which the mangled remains were transferred by the 
 soldiers. In doing this, Blonay lent no manner of assistance. 
 On the contrary, his thoughts and person were entirely giver, 
 to another office which seemed to call for much more than his 
 ciistomary consideration. Bending carefully, in all directions, 
 over the scene of strife, even as a hungry hound gathering up 
 from the tainted earth the scent of his selected victim, he 
 noted all the appearance of the field of combat, and with tire 
 earnest search of one looking for the ruined form of a lost but 
 etill remembered and loved affection, he turned over the un 
 conscious carcasses of those who had fallen, and narrowly ex 
 amined every several countenance. 
 
 " He a n t here," he muttered to himself; and an air of satis 
 faction seemed to overspread his face. " I thought so I seed 
 him go to the cart, and he warn t hurt then. I ll chaw the 
 bullet for him yet." 
 
 Thus saying, his search seemed to take another direction, 
 and he now proceeded to inspect the ground on which the bat 
 tle had taken pl;je<. In particular, he traced out upon the 
 
THE CUKT Altf KI5ES. 1 
 
 soft red clay, A\hich had retained every impression, the various 
 marks made by the hoofs of the shodden horses. One of these 
 he heedfully regarded, and pursued Avith an air of intense sat 
 isfaction. The impression was that of a very small shoe a 
 deer like hoof-trace quite unlike, and much smaller than 
 those made by the other horses. There was another peculiar 
 ity in the shoe which may be rote -A. That of the right forefoot 
 seemed in one place to be- defective. It had the appearance 
 >f being either completely snapped in twain, and the parts 
 slightly separated directly in the centre, or by a stroke of the 
 narnmer, while the metal was yet malleable, it had been de 
 pressed by a straight narrow line evenly across. Whateve. 
 may have been the cause, the impression of the shoe upon the 
 earth left this appearance of defect, making the track of its 
 owner sufficiently conspicuous to one having a knowledge of, 
 and on the look-out for, it. Having once satisfied himself of 
 the continued presence of the shoe, with which he seemed to 
 have been previously familiar, he gave over his examination ; 
 and, as the cart was now ready, and all preparations completed 
 for the return of the party to the village, he gathered up his 
 rifle, drew the coon-skin cap over his eyes, and, without a 
 word, at once fell in procession with the rest, following close 
 behind the body of his mother. Passing through the village 
 of Dorchester, where they only paused to procure a coffin, 
 whidh was furnished by the garrison, they proceeded directly 
 to the miserable cabin a few miles beyond, which she had hith 
 erto inhabited. Here, under a stunted cedar, in a little hollow 
 of the woods behind her dwelling, a stake, already driven at 
 head and foot, designated the spot which she had chosen for 
 her burial-place. The spade soon scooped out a space for her 
 reception, and in a few moments the miserable and battered 
 hulk of a vexed and violent spirit was deposited in silence. 
 The son lingered but a little while after the burial was over. 
 He turned away soon after the rest ; and, without much show 
 of sympathy, and with none of its feeling, those who had thus 
 far assisted left him to his own mood in the now desolate abi 
 ding-place of his mother. 
 
MKM.XOBAMPK. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 INDIAN BLOOD. 
 
 To estimate the solitude of such a creature as Blonay undef 
 the present loss of his parent, by any of those finer standards 
 of humanity which belong to a higher class and better habits, 
 would be manifestly idle and erroneous. But that his iso 
 lation previously from all others, and his close dependence for 
 sympathy upon the one relative whom he had just lost, added 
 largely to his degree of suffering now, is equally unquestion 
 able. Supposing his mere human feelings to have been few 
 and feeble, they were yet undivided. Concentrating upon the 
 one object as they had done for so long a period, they had 
 grown steady and unwavering ; and, if not very strong or very 
 active at any time, they were at least sufficiently tenacious in 
 their hold to make the sudden wrenching of their bands 
 asunder to be felt sensibly by the survivor. But he did full 
 justice in his deportment to the Indian blood which predom 
 inated in his veins. He had no uttered griefs ; no tears found 
 their way to - his cheeks, and his eyes wore their wonted 
 expression, as he took his seat upon the floor of his lonely 
 cabin, and, stirring the embers upon the hearth, proceeded, 
 I with the aid of the rich lightwood which lay plentifully at hand, 
 to kindle up his evening fire. 
 
 But, if grief Avere wanting to the expression of his counte 
 nance, it did not lack in other essentials of expression. 
 Having kindled his fire, he sat for some time before it in 
 manifest contemplation. His brow was knitted, his eyes fixed 
 upon the struggling blaze, his lips closely compressed, and a 
 general earnestness of look indicated a laboring industry of 
 thought, wklcii, were he in the presence of another person 
 
INDIAN BLOOD. 19 
 
 would never have been suffered so plainly to appear. For 
 some time lie sat. in this manner without change of position, 
 and during- all this period it would seem that he was working 
 out in his mind some particular plan of conduct, in the pursuit 
 of an object, of no less difficulty than importance. Of that 
 object we can only conjecture the nature from a reference to 
 events, and to his actual condition. The vindictive blood 
 within him his. irresponsible position in society the severity 
 of the treatment to which, justly or not, he had been subjected 
 by one of the parties between whom the province was divided 
 and the recent dispensation which had deprived him of the 
 companionship of one, who, however despicable and disgust 
 ing to all others, was at least a mother to him were circum 
 stances well calculated to arouse the savage desire of ven 
 geance upon those to whom any of his sufferings might be 
 attributed. 
 
 That such were his thoughts, and such the object of his 
 deliberations, may safely be inferred from the few words of 
 muttered declamation which fell from his lips at intervals while 
 thus rapt in his contemplations. It would be to no purpose 
 to record these words, since they do little more than afford a 
 brief and passing sanction to the opinion we have thus ventured 
 to entertain, and prove, at the same time, the character of a 
 mood seemingly hostile to humankind in general. They 
 were bitter anl comprehensive, and summed up, to the cost of 
 humanity, all the wrongs to which he had been subjected, and 
 many others, wrongs in his sight only, of which he but com 
 plained. Yet an attentive listener might have observed, tha* 
 in what he said there was an occasional reference to one 
 individual in particular, who was yet nameless ; which ref 
 erence, whenever made, called up to his black, penetrating, 
 but blear eyes, their most malignant expression. All their 
 fires seemed to collect and to expand with a new supply 
 s>f fuel at such moments, and his swarthy skin glowed upon 
 tiis cheeks, as if partaking with them a kindred intensity of 
 blaze. 
 
 He remained in this state of feeling and reflection for some 
 hours, indulging his usual listnessness of habit while pursuing 
 
2O MKLLTCHAMPE. 
 
 the thought which liis mood had prompted; when, at length, 
 as if he had arrived at a full and satisfactory conclusion, hj 
 arose from his place, supplied the lire with new brands, and, 
 as night had now set in, proceeded to bring forth his supper 
 from the little cupboard where it usually stood. His fare was 
 simple, and soon despatched. When this duty had been per 
 formed, he next proceeded to such arrangements as seemed to 
 indicate his preparation for a long journey. lie brought forth 
 from the recess which had supplied him with his evening repast 
 a small sack of corn-meal, possibly a quart or more, and a 
 paper containing at least a pound of common brown sugar. A 
 huge hoe, such as is used in the corn-field, was then placed by 
 him before the blazing fire the flour and sugar, previously 
 stirred together, were spread thickly over it, and, carefully 
 watching the action of the heat upon his mixture, he took 
 due heed to remove it at that, period when he perceived the 
 flour to grow slightly brown, and the sugar to granulate and 
 form in common particles along with it. It was then with 
 drawn from the lire, exposed for an hour to the air, and 
 afterward poured into a sack made of the deerskin, which 
 seemed to have been employed frequently for a like purpose. 
 To this, in another skin, the remnant of a smoked venison ham 
 was added, and the two parcels, with one or two other items 
 in the shape of hoe-cake and fried bacon, were deposited in 
 a coarse sack of cloth, opening in the centre like a purse, and 
 so filled as to be worn across the saddle after the fashion of the 
 common meal-bag. This done, he proceeded to what appeared 
 a general overhaul of the hovel. Various articles, seemingly 
 of value, were drawn out from their secret recesses ; these were 
 carefully packed away in a box, and, when ready for removal, 
 their proprietor, honestly so or not, proceeded to secure them 
 after his own manner. Leaving the cabin for an instant, he 
 went forth, and soon returned bearing in his hands a spade, 
 with which, in a brief space, he dug a hole in the centre of 
 the apartment sufficiently large to receive and conceal his 
 deposite. Here he buried it, carefully covering it over, and 
 treading down the earth with his feet until it became as hard 
 *g that which had been undisturbed around it Placing eve*y 
 
INDIAN BLOOD. 21 
 
 thing winch he was to remove ready for the moment of depar 
 ture, he threw himself upon the miserable pallet of his hut, and 
 soon fell into unbroken sliunhgrg* 
 
 The stars were yet shhJ ig, and it lacked a good hour of 
 the daylight, when he arose from his couch ana oegan to bestir 
 himself in preparations for departure. Emerging from the 
 hovel with his bundles, as we have seen them prepared the 
 night before, he placed them under a neighboring tree, and, 
 undoing the string from the neck of the hungry cur that kept 
 watch in his kennel immediately beside the hovel s entrance, 
 he left him in charge of the deposite, while he took his way 
 to the margin of a little canebrake a few hundred yards off. 
 There, with a shrill whistle and a brief cry two or three times 
 repeated, he called up from its recesses a shaggy pony a 
 ^mature of the swamps a hardy, tough, uncouth, and unclean 
 little animal, which followed him like a dog to the hovel which 
 he had left. The hollow of a cypress yielded him saddle and 
 bridle, and the little goat-like steed was soon equipped, and 
 ready for his rider. This done, Blonay fastened him to a tree 
 ncAi- his dog, and, without a word, proceeded to apply the torch 
 to several parts of the building. It was not long before the 
 j lamcs rose around it in every quarter ; and, lingering long 
 enough to perceive that the conflagration must now be effectual, 
 the half breed at length grasped his rifle, mounted his tacky, 
 and, followed by his ill-looking dog, once more took his way 
 to the village of Dorchester. 
 
 Moving slowly, he did not reach the village until the day 
 had fully dawned. He then proceeded at once to the garrison, 
 and claimed to be admitted to the presence of the commander. 
 Proctor was too good a soldier, and one too heedful of his duty, 
 to suffer annoyance from a visit at so early an hour ; and, 
 though not yet risen, he gave orders at once for the admission 
 of the applicant, and immediately addressed himself to the 
 arrangement of his toilet. With a subdued but calm air of 
 humility, Blonay stood before the Briton his countenance as 
 immovable and impassive as if he had sustained no loss, and 
 was altogether unconscious of privation. Regarding him 
 with more indulgence than had hitherto been his custom, 
 
2 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 Proctor demanded of him, first, if the soldiers had properly 
 assisted him in the last offices to his mother; and next, his 
 present business. Blonay had few words, .and his reply was 
 brief. 
 
 "The old woman didn t want much help, and we soon put her 
 away. About what I want now, major; it a n t much, and it ll be a 
 smart bit of time fore I come back to trouble you ag in." 
 
 "Why where do you propose to go?" demanded the Briton. 
 
 "I m thinking to go up along by Black river, and so up into A^ 7 ill- 
 iamsburgh, and perhaps clear away to old Kaddipah Lynch s creek, 
 as they calls it now. I don t know how long I may be gone, and .it s 
 to get a paper from you that I m come." 
 
 " To Black river and Lynch s creek why, know you not that the 
 rebels are as thick as hops in that quarter? What carries you 
 there?" 
 
 "There s a chap in that quarter stands indebted to me, and I 
 wants he should settle, seeing pay-day s come and gone long ago. 
 I a n t fear d of the rebels, for I m used to the woods and 
 swamps, and ta n t often I ll be in their company. I ll keep out 
 of harm s way, major, as long as 1 can; and when I can t keep 
 out any longer, why, then, I ll stand a shot, and have done 
 with it." 
 
 "And what sort of paper is it that you desire from me?" asked 
 Proctor. 
 
 "Why, sir a little protection like, that ll be good ag in our 
 own people, and stand up for my loyalty. You can say I m a 
 true friend, to his majesty, and how you knows me; and that ll 
 be enough, when you put your own name to it in black and 
 white." 
 
 "But to show that to a rebel will be fatal to you. How will you 
 determine between them?" 
 
 "Every man has his own mark, major, same as every tree; and 
 where the mark don t come up clear to the eye, it will to the feel or 
 the hearing. I m a born hunter, major, and must take my chance. 
 I a n t af ear d." 
 
 "And yet, Blonay, I should rather not give you a passport to go in 
 that quarter. Can you not wait until Lord Cornwallis takes that 
 route? Is your claim so very considerable? " 
 
INDIAN- BLOOD. 23 
 
 "Ta n t so much, major, but I can t do so well without it. I ve 
 been in want of it long enough, and I m dubous him that owes me 
 will clear away and go into North Carolina, and so I ll lose it. You 
 needn t be scared for me, major; I m not going to put my head in 
 the bull s mouth because njs hide has a price in market; and I think, 
 by the time I get up there, Marion s men will be all off. I a n t 
 afear d." 
 
 Proctor, after several efforts to dissuade him from his pur 
 pose, finding all his efforts unavailing, gave him the required 
 passport, which he carefully concealed from sight, and, with 
 many acknowledgments and professions of loyalty, took his 
 departure. From Dorchester, proceeding to the battle-ground, 
 he again carefully noted the tracks of the one shoe, which he 
 followed with the keen eye of a hunter, from side to side of the 
 road, in its progress upward to the cypress swamp. Sometimes 
 losing it, he turned to the bushes on either hand, and where 
 they seemed disordered or broken, he continued the trail, until, 
 again emerging from the cover, he would find, and resume the 
 more distinct impression, as it was made upon the clay or sandy 
 road. In this way he reached the broken ground of the swamp, 
 and there he lost it. Alighting, therefore, he concealed his 
 pony in a clump of bushes, and with his rifle primed and ready 
 for any emergency, he pursued his farther search into the bosom 
 of the swamp on foot. Here he still thought that he might find 
 the partisans if not the entire troop of Singleton, at least a 
 portion of it; probably though on this head he was not san 
 guine the very object of his search. From point to point, with 
 unrelaxing vigilance and caution, he stole along until he reached 
 the little creek which surrounded and made an island of the spot 
 where Singleton had held his temporary camp. 
 
 The place was silent as the grave. He crossed the narrow 
 stream, and carefully inspected the ground. It bore traces 
 enough of recent occupation. The ashes of several fires, still 
 retaining a slight degree of warmth the fresh track of horses, 
 that of the broken shoe among them hacked trees and torn 
 bushes all told of the presence there, withm a brief space, of 
 the very persons whom he now sought. The search of Blonay 
 
2 1 MELLICIIAMPB. 
 
 worthy of that of the ablest Indian hunter, was thorough and 
 complete. From the one island, he took his way to sundry 
 others which lay in its neighborhood, susceptible of occupa 
 tion, in all of which he found traces of men and horses, encour 
 aging him to proceed farther and with continued caution. At 
 length he passed an oozy bog, and stood upon a little hum 
 mock, which seemed formed for a place of refuge and repose. 
 An awful silence rested over the spot, and the exceeding height 
 of the cypresses, and the dense volume of undergrowth which 
 surrounded and darkened the wide intervals between them, 
 seemed almost too solid to admit of his progress. The gloom 
 of the region had all the intensity of night, and appeared to 
 impress itself upon the feelings of one even so habitually want 
 ing in reverence as the half-breeds. He stopped for an in 
 stant, then moving forward by a route which he seemed to 
 adopt with confidence, he rounded the natural obstruction of 
 woods and thicket, and an amphitheatre opened before him, 
 not so spacious as it was perfect. 
 
 He paused suddenly he heard a footstep there was evi 
 dently a rustling in the woods. He stole behind a tree for ail 
 instant, sank upon his knee, lifted his rifle, which he cocked 
 with caution, and watched the quarter intently from which the 
 sound had arisen. A shrill scream rose upon the air, and in 
 the next instant he beheld a monstrous wildcat, startled like 
 himself, and by him, bound forward to an opposite point of the 
 area, and leap into the extending arms of a rotten tree, that 
 shook under its pressure. Perching upon the very edge of a 
 broken limb which jutted considerably out, it looked down with 
 threatening glance upon his approach. He rose from his knees 
 and advanced to the spot whence the animal had fled and over 
 which it still continued to brood with flaming eyes and an 
 aroused appetite. It was not long before Blonay discovered 
 the occasion of its presence. 
 
 The figure of a man, huge in frame, seemingly powerless, 
 lay stretched upon the ground. The half-breed soon recog- 
 uised the person of the maniac Frampton. He lay upon the 
 little mound which covered the remains of his wife. To this 
 be seemed t> have crawled with the latest efforts of his strength 
 
INDIAN BLOOK 25 
 
 That strength was now nigh exhausted. His clothes were in 
 tatters, and covered with traces of blood and mire. His blood 
 shot eyes were glazing fast. The curtain of death was nearly 
 drawn over them, but his feeble hand was uplifted occasionally 
 to the tree where the wildcat sat watching hungrily for the 
 moment Avhen the restless but feeble motion of the dying man 
 should cease. Blonay approached, and, as his eye glanced 
 from man to beast, he lifted his rifle, intending to shoot the 
 monster. The action seemed to irritate the creature, whose 
 half-suppressed scream, as Blonay advanced his foot toward 
 him in the act to fire, appeared to defy and threaten him. 
 
 "The varmint!" exclaimed the half-breed, " I could shoot 
 him now easy enough, but it s no use. There s plenty more on 
 em in the swamp to come after him, and I don t love them 
 any better than him. There s no reason why I should keep 
 jhe meat from him only for them. It s the natur of the beast 
 to want its fill, and what the wild-cat don t eat the buzzards 
 must. The varmint won t touch him so long as he can move a 
 finger, and when he can t he won t mind much how many of 
 em get at him." 
 
 So speaking, he turned from the animal to the maniac. 
 The hand was uplifted no longer. The eye had nothing of 
 life s language in it. The last lingering consciousness had 
 departed for ever ; and Blonay looked up to the watching 
 wild-c^t, as he turned the body with his foot, muttering aloud 
 as he did so " Adrat it, you may soon come down to dinner." 
 
 The animal uttered a short, shrill cry, two or three times 
 repeated, and with a rising of its bristles, and such a flashing 
 of its eyes, that Blonay half determined to shoot it where it 
 stood, for what appeared to him its determined insolence. 
 Once, indeed, he did lift his rifle, but, with the thought of a 
 moment, he again dropped it. 
 
 " It s only a waste," he muttered to himself, " and can do no 
 good. Besides, it s a chawed bullet. It s of no use to bite 
 lead when a wildcat s to be killed. Smooth bullet and smooth 
 bore will do well enough, and them I ha n t." 
 
 Such were his words as he turned away from the spot, and 
 departed for the place where his horse was fastened such 
 
- f MKU.ICHAMl K. 
 
 was liis phibsophy The bullet, marked for vengeance by the 
 impression of his teeth, was not to be thrown away upon mere 
 pastime ; and, though feeling a strong desire to destroy the 
 cat, he was yet able to forbear. He hurried through the quag 
 mire, but had not gone far when the repeated screams of the 
 animal, calling probably to its fellows, announced to the half 
 breed that he had already begun to exult in the enjoyment of 
 big long-withheld and tn.rian banquet. 
 
FHE COMPANIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. . 
 
 THE COMPANIONS. 
 
 BLONAV emerged from the swamp only to commence a 
 ney of new difficulties; the termination of which he could not 
 foresee. Leaving him upon the road for a while, we will now 
 change the scene to that beautiful tract of country lying close 
 along the borders of the Santee, and stretching thence, in a 
 northwardly direction, across the present district of Williams- 
 burgh to the river Kaddipah a stream which, according to 
 modern usage, has shared the fate of most of our Indian 
 waters, and, exchanging that more euphonious title conferred 
 upon it by the red man, is now generally known to us as 
 Lynch s creek. With a patriotic hardihood, that will be ad 
 mitted to have its excuse if not its necessity, we choose to 
 preserve in our narrative the original Indian cognomen when 
 ever we may find it necessary to refer to it ; and the reader, 
 whose geographical knowledge might otherwise become con 
 fused, will henceforward be pleased to hold the two names as 
 identical, if not synonymous. 
 
 To the Santee, extending from point to point in every 
 direction leading to the Kaddipah, the action of the Carolina 
 partisans was for a long time limited. Our narrative will be 
 confined within a like circuit. The entire region for nearly 
 two hundred miles on every hand, was in the temporary and 
 occasional occupation of Marion and his little band. With 
 the commission of the state, conferring upon him the rank of a 
 brigadier in its service. Governor Rutledge had assigned to the 
 brave partisan the entire charge in and over all that immense 
 tract comprehended within a line drawn from Charleston along 
 the Atlantic to Georgetown, inclusive thence in a westerly 
 
MELLICUAMPE. 
 
 direction to Camden, and thence in another line, including the 
 Santee river, again to Charleston. This circuit comprehended 
 the most wealthy and populous portion of the state, and could 
 not, under existing circumstances, have heen intrusted 1 > better 
 hands. And yet, not a foot of it but was in actual possession 
 and under the sway of the invader. His forts and garrisons 
 at moderate intervals, covered its surface, and his cavalry, 
 made up chiefly of foreign and native mercenaries, constantly 
 traversed the entire space lying between them. 
 
 The worthy governor of South Carolina, thus liberal in 
 appropriating this extensive province to the care of the parti 
 san, dared not himself set foot upon it unless under cover of 
 the night ; and the brave man to whom he gave it availed 
 himself of the privileges of his trust only by stratagem and 
 stealth. Fortunately, the physical nature of the country BO 
 bestowed was well susceptible of employment in the hands of 
 such a warrior as Marion. It afforded a thousand natural and 
 almost inaccessible retreats, with the uses of which the partisan 
 had been long familiar. The fastnesses of river and forest, 
 impervious to the uninitiated stranger, were yet a home to the 
 swamp fox." He doubled through them, night and day, to 
 the continual discomfiture and mortification of his pursuers. 
 From the Santee to th<* Black river, from the Black river 
 the two Peedees, through the Kaddipah, to thence to Wacca- 
 nvah, and back again to the Santee, he led his enemies a long 
 chase, which wearied out their patience, defied their valor, and 
 eluded all their vigilance. Availing himself of their exhaus 
 tion, he would then suddenly turn upon the pursuing parties, 
 watch their movements, await the moment of their neglect or 
 separation, and cut them up in detail by an unlooked-for blow, 
 which would amply compensate by its consequences for all the 
 previous annoyance to which he might have been subjected 
 in the pursuit. 
 
 It was to his favorite retreat at Snow s island that Major 
 Singleton followed his commander, after the successful on 
 slaught at Dorchester. Himself familiar with the usual li id ing- 
 places, he had traced his general with us much directness as 
 was possible in following one so habitually cautious as Marion 
 
THK COMPANIONS. 29 
 
 He had succeeded in uniting with him, though after much 
 difficulty ; and, as the partisan studiously avoided remaining 
 very long in any one place, the union had scarcely been 
 effected before the warriors were all again in motion for the 
 upper Santee. This river, bold, broad, .rapid, and full of intri 
 cacies, afforded the finest theatre for the sort of warfare which 
 they carried on. Its course, too, was such as necessarily 
 made it one of the great leading thoroughfares of the state. 
 Detachments of the enemy s troops were continually passing 
 and repassing it, in their progress either for the seacoast or the 
 interior. Supplies and recruits to Cornwallis then in North 
 Carolina despatches and prisoners in return from him to the 
 Charleston garrison, made the region one of continual life, 
 and, to Marion, of continual opportunity. Hanging around 
 its various crossing-places, like some vigilant and vengeful 
 hawk in confident expectation of his prey, he kept an unsleep 
 ing watch, an untiring wing, an unerring weapon. In its 
 intricacies we shall find him now the swamps not less his 
 home than the element of his peculiar genius. His scouts are 
 dispersed around him in all directions, and in all disguises 
 lying in the bush by the wayside crouching in the oozy mire 
 in close neighborhood with the reptile watchful above, and 
 buried in the thick overhanging branches of the tree- 
 crawling around the cottage enclosure, in readiness and wait 
 ing for the foe. 
 
 The scene to which we would now 7 direct the eye of our 
 reader is sufficiently attractive of itself to secure his attention. 
 The country undulates prettily around us, for miles, in every 
 direction : now rising gently into slopes, that spread them 
 selves away in ridges and winding lines, until the sight fails 
 tc discover the valleys in which they lose themselves and 
 now sinking abruptly into deepening hollows and the quietest 
 dells, T/hose recesses and sudden windings, thickly covered 
 with the massive and umbrageous natural growth of the region, 
 terminate at last, as by a solid wall, the long and variously- 
 shadowed prospect. On the one hand a forest of the loftiest 
 pines, thousands upon thousands in number, lies in the deep 
 majestj of unappropriated silence In the twilight of thei 
 
MELLICriAMPE. 
 
 t dense and sheltered abodes, the meditative and melancholy 
 mind might fitly seek, and readily obtain, security from all 
 obtrusion of uncongenial objects. Even tlu subtile and op 
 pressive beams of the August sun come as it were by stealth 
 and tremblingly, into their solemn and sweet recesses. Tlieii 
 tops, gently waving beneath the pressure of the slight breeze as 
 it hurries over them, yield a strain of murmuring song like the 
 faint notes of some spirit mourner, which accords harmoniously 
 with the sad influence of their dusky forms. The struggling and 
 stray glance of sunlight, gliding along their prostrated vistas, 
 rather contributes to increase than remove the sweet gloom 
 of these deep abodes. The dim ray, like an intrusive pres 
 ence, flickering between their huge figures with every move, 
 ment of the declining sun, played, as it were, by stealth 
 
 amon< 
 
 ig the brown leaves and over the gray bosom of the earth 
 below. Far as the eye can extend, these vistas, so visited, 
 spread themselves away in fanciful sinuosities, until the mind 
 becomes unconsciously and immeasurably uplifted in the con 
 templation of the scene, and we feel both humbled and eleva- 
 te.i as we gaze upon the innumerable forms of majesty before 
 us, rising up, it would seem, without a purpose, from the bosom 
 of earth --living without notice and without employ un 
 curbed in their growth untroubled in their abodes and 
 perishing away in season only to give place to succeeding myr 
 iads having a like fortune. 
 
 On the other hand, as it were, to relieve the mind of the 
 spectator from the monotonous influence of such a survey, how 
 different is the woods how various the other features of the 
 scene around us. Directly opposed to the pine-groves on the 
 one hand, we behold the wildest and most various growth of 
 the richest southern region rising up, spreading and swelling 
 around in the most tangled intricacy in the most luxurious 
 strength. There the hickory and gum among the trees attest 
 the presence of a better soil for cultivation, and delight the 
 experienced eye of the planter. With these, clambering over 
 their branches, come the wild vines, with their thorny arms 
 and gl .wing vegetation, Shrubs gather in the common w -ay ; 
 dwari trees and ^, (ants, choked, and overcome, yet living still 
 
31 
 
 attest the fruitfulness of a land which yields nutriment but 
 de_njm_place ; and innumerable species of fungi, the yellow 
 and the purple fringes of the swamps, the various mosses, as 
 various in hue as in form and texture parasites that have no 
 root, and, like unselfish -affections, only claim an object upon 
 which to bestow themselves these, crowding about and clus 
 tering in gay confusion along the dense mass, swelling like a 
 fortresb before the eye, seem intended to form a labyrinthine 
 retreat for the most coy of all selfish creations. 
 
 Immediately beyond this dense and natural thicket, die 
 scene still the same presents us with another aspect. A 
 broken and dismantled fence, the rails half rotten and decay 
 ing fast on all sides, seems to indicate the ancient employment 
 of the place by man. The period must have been remote, 
 however, as the former product of the spot thus enclosed had 
 been superseded by the small-leafed or field pine-tree, in suf 
 ficient size and number almost to emulate the neighboring and 
 original forest. There was little here of undergrowth, and 
 yet, as the pine thus occupying it is of inferior and frequently 
 of dwarf size, the thicket was sufficiently dense for temporary 
 concealment It had a farther advantage in this respect, as it 
 sunk rapidly in sundry places into hollows, that lay like so 
 many cups in the bosom of crowding hills, and had for their 
 growth, like the original wood we have just passed over, a 
 tangled covering of vines and shrubbery. 
 
 It was on the side of one of these descents, about noon, on 
 the third day after Blonay s departure from Dorchester, that 
 we find two persons reclining, sheltered by a clump of the 
 smaller pines of which we have spoken, and sufficiently con 
 cealed by them and the shrubbery around, to remain uncon 
 cerned by the near proximity of the highway. The road ran 
 along, and within rifle distance, to the south, below them 
 r lhe elder of the two was a man somewhere between thirty 
 and forty years of age. Llis bulky form, as it lay extended 
 along the grass, denoted the possession of prodigious strength ; 
 though the position in which he lay, with his face to the 
 ground, and only supported by his palms, borne up by his el 
 bows resting upon tho earth, would incline the spectator to 
 
rnnceive him one not often disposed for its exercise. An air 
 "f sluggish inertness marked his manner, and seemed to single 
 him out as one of the mere beef-eaters the good citizens, 
 v/h<>, so long as they get wherewithal to satisfy the animal, 
 aro not apt to take umbrage at any of the doings of the world 
 about them. His face, however, had an expression of its own ; 
 avd the sanguine flush which overspread the full cheeks, and 
 the quick, restless movement of his blue eye, spoke of an 
 active spirit, and one prompt enough at all times to govern 
 and set in motion the huge bulk of that body, now so inert 
 and sluggish. His forehead, though good, was not large; hie 
 chin was full, and his nose one of length and character. He 
 was habited in the common blue and white homespun of the 
 country. A sort of hunting-shirt, rather short, like a doublet, 
 came over his hips, and was bound about his waist by a belt 
 of the same material. A cone-crowned hat, the rim of which, 
 by some mischance, had been torn away, lay beside him, and 
 formed another portion of his habiliments. Instead of shoes, 
 he wore a rude pair of buckskin moccasins, made after the In 
 dian manner, though not with their usual skill, and which lack 
 ed here and there the aid of the needle. His shirt-collar lay 
 open, without cravat or covering of any kind ; and, by the 
 deeply-bronzed color of the skin beneath, told of habitual ex 
 posure to the elements. A rifle lay beside him a long in 
 strument, and in his belt a black leather case was stuck 
 conveniently, the huge knife which it protected lying beside 
 him, as it had just before been made subservient to his mid 
 day meat. 
 
 His companion was a youth scarcely more than twenty 
 years of age, who differed greatly in appearance from him we 
 have attempted to describe. His eye was black and fiery, his 
 cheek brown and thin, his hair of a raven black like his eye, 
 his chin full, his nose finely Roman, and his forehead impo 
 singly high. His person was slender, of middle height, and 
 seemed to indicate great activity. His movements were fever 
 ishly restless he seemed passionate and impatient, and his 
 thin, but deeply red lips, quivered and colored with every 
 word and at every movement. There was more of pretension 
 
THE COMPANIONS. 33 
 
 in his dress than in that of his companion, though they were 
 not unlike in general structure and equipment. Like him he 
 wore a hunting-shirt, but of a dark green, and it could be seen 
 at a glance that its material had been of the most costly kind. 
 A thick fringe edged the skirts, which came lower, in propor 
 tion to his person, than those of his companion. Loops of green 
 cord fastened the coat to his neck in front, and a belt of black 
 polished leather confined it to his waist. He also carried a rifle 
 a Spanish dirk, with a broken handle of ivory was stuck in 
 his belt, a pouch of some native fur, hanging- from his neck 
 by a green cord, contained his mould and bullets. This dress 
 formed the uniform of a native company. His powder-horn 
 had been well chosen, and was exceedingly and curiously beautiful. 
 It had been ingeniously wrought in scraping down, so as to 
 represent a rude but clear sketch of the deer in full leap, a hound 
 at his heels, and a close thicket in the perspective, ready to 
 receive and shelter the fugitive. These were all left in relief 
 upon the horn, while every other part was so transparent that 
 the several grains of powder were distinctly visible w r ithin to 
 the eye without, 
 
 The youth was partially reclining, with his back against a 
 tree, and looking toward his elder companion. His face was 
 flushed, and a burning spot upon both cheeks told of some 
 vexing cause of thought which had been recently the subject 
 of conversation between them. The features of the elder 
 indicated care and a deep concern in the subject, whatever it 
 may have been ; but his eye was mild in its expression, and his 
 countenance unruffled. He had been evidently laboring to 
 soothe his more youthful comrade ; and though he did not seem 
 to have been as yet very successful, he did not forego his 
 efforts in his disappointment. The conversation which followed 
 may help us somewhat in arriving at a knowledge of the diffi 
 culty before them. 
 
 "I am not more quick or impatient," said the youth to his 
 companion, as if in reply to some remark from the other, "than 
 a man should be in such a case. Not to be quick when one is 
 wronged, is to invite injustice ; and I am not so young, Thumb 
 screw, as not to have found that out by my own experience. I 
 
4 MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 know no good that comes of submission, except to make tyrant! 
 and slaves ; and I tell yon, Thumbscrew, that so long as my 
 uaine is Ernest Mellichampe, I shall never submit to the one, 
 nor be the other." 
 
 " A mighty fine spirit, Airnest ; and to speak what s gospel 
 true, I likes it myself," was the reply of the other, who ad 
 dressed the first speaker with an air of respectful deference 
 as naturally as if he had been taught to regard him as a 
 superior. " I m not," he continued, * I m not a man myself tc 
 let another play tantrums with me ; and, for sartain, I sha n f. 
 find fault with them that s most like myself in that partic lai. 
 If a man says he s for fight, I ll lick him if I can; if I can t 
 that s to say, if I think I can t I ll think longer about it. 
 I don t see no use in fighting where it s ten to one where, 
 indeed, it s main sartain I m to be licked ; and so, as I says, 
 I ll take time to think about the fighting." 
 
 " What! until you re kicked?" replied the other, impet 
 uously. 
 
 " No, no, Airnest not so bad as that comes to neither. My 
 idee is, that fighting is the part of a beast-brute, and not for 
 a true-born man, that has a respect for himself, and knows 
 what s good-breeding; and I only fights when there s brutes 
 standing waiting for it. Soon as a man squints at me as if he 
 was going to play beast with me, by the eternal splinters, I ll 
 mount him, lick or no lick, and do my best, tooth, tusk, and 
 grinders, to astonish him. But, afore that, I m peaceable as a 
 pine stump, lying quiet in my own bush." 
 
 " Well, but when you re trodden upon?" said the other. 
 
 "Why then, you sec, Airnest, there s another question 
 who s atop of me? If it s a dozen, I ll lie snug until they re 
 gone over : I see nothing onreasonable or onbecorning in that 
 and that, you see, Airnest, is jist what I ax of you to do. 
 They a n t treading on you xactly, tho I do confess they ve 
 been mighty nigh to it ; but then, you see, there s quite too many 
 on fin for you to handle with, onless you play possum a little. 
 There s no use to run plump into danger, like a blind bull 
 into a thick fence, to stick fast there and be hobbled ; when 
 if you keep your eyes open, and a keen scent, you can track 
 
THE COMPANIONS. 4*. 
 
 all your enemies, one by one, to his own kennel, and smoke 
 em out, one after another, like a rabbit in a dry hollow. Hear 
 to my words, Airnost, and don t be vexed now. Dang my 
 buttons, you know, boy, I love you the same as if you was my 
 own blood and bone, though I knows my place to you, and 
 know you re come of better kin, and are better taught in book- 
 larning; but, by God ! Airnest, you hav n t lamed, in all your 
 laming, to love anybody better than I love you." 
 
 I know it, Thumby, I know it I feel it," said the other, 
 moved by the earnestness of his companion, and extending his 
 hand toward him, while his eyes filled with ready tears. "1 
 know it, I feel it, my friend ; forgive rne if I have said any 
 thing to vex you. But my heart is full, and my blood is on 
 fire, and I must have utterance in soms way." 
 
 " Never cry, Airnest don t, I tell you taint right it s 
 oubecoming, Airnest; but dang it!" he exclaimed, dashing 
 a drop from his own eye as he spoke, " dang it ! I do believe 
 I ve been about to do the same thing. But it s all the fault 
 of one s mother, as larns it to us so strong when we re taking 
 suck, that we member it for ever after. A man that s got a- 
 fighting , and in the wars with tories one day and British the 
 next, it s onbecoming for him to cry ; and, Arrnest, though 
 things are black enough about home, it s net black enough to 
 cry for. It ll come light again before long, I m sartain. I ve 
 never seed the time yet when there wasn t some leetle speck 
 of light on the edge of the cloud somewhere it mought ba 
 ever so leetle, or ever so fur off, but it was there somewhere ; 
 it mouglit be in the east, and that showed the clearing away 
 was further off; or it mouglit be in the northward, and that 
 wasn t the best place either for it to break in, but it was 
 somewhere for certain that leetle speck of white; jist like 
 a sort of promise from God, that airth should have sunshine 
 again." 
 
 " Would I could behold it now," responded the other, gloom 
 ily, to the cheering speech of his companion, " would I could 
 behold it now ! But I see nothing of this promise there is 
 no bright speck in the dark cloud which now hangs about my 
 fortunes." 
 
36 MELLICHAMl K. 
 
 " You re but young, yet, Airnest, and it a u t time yet for 
 you to talk so. You haven t had a full trial yet, and you re 
 only at the beginning as one may say, jist at the threshold 
 of the world, and ha n t quite taken your first step into it. 
 Wait a little ; and if you ve had a little nonplush at the begin 
 ning, why, man, I tell you, larn from it for it s a sort of 
 lesson, which, if you larn it well, will make you so much the 
 wiser to get on afterward, and so much the happier when thi 
 storm blows over. Now, I don t think it so bad for them that 
 has misfortunes from the jump. They are always the best 
 people after all; but them that has sunshine always at first, 1 
 never yet knew one that could stand a shower. They re always 
 worried at everything and everybody quarrelling with this 
 weather, and quarrelling with that, and never able to make the 
 most of what comes up to em. Hold on, Airnest shut your 
 teetii, and keep in your breath, and stand to it a leetle 
 logger. That s my way ; and, when I keep to it, I m always 
 sure to see that leetle white speck I ve been telling about, 
 wearing away all round, till it comes right before my eyes, 
 and there it sticks, and don t move till the sunlight comes out 
 again." 
 
 " You ma^ be right in your philosophy," responded the 
 youth, " and I would that I could adopt it for my own ; but my 
 experience rejects, and my heart does not feel it. These 
 evils have come too fasL and too suddenly upon me. My father 
 cruelly murdered my mother driven away from the home 
 af my ancestors that home confiscated, and given to the 
 murderer and I, a hunted, and, if taken, a doomed man ! It 
 is too much for my contemplation. My blood boils, my brain 
 burns I can not think, and when I do it is only to madden." 
 
 The speaker paused in deepest emotion. His hand clasped 
 his forehead, and he sank forward, with his face prone to the 
 earth upon which he had been reclining. His companion 
 lifted his hand, which he took into his own, and, with a deep 
 solicitude of manner, endeavored, after his own humble fashion 
 of argument and speech, to exhort his youthful and almost 
 despairing associate to better thoughts and renewed energy. 
 
 "Look up, Airnest, my dear boy, look up, and listen to ine, 
 
THE COMPANIONS. 37 
 
 Airnest. It s unbecoming to be cast down like a woman, be 
 cause trouETe presses upon the heart. I know what trouble is, 
 and, dang my buttons, Airnest, I feel for you all over; but I 
 don t like to see you cast down, because then I think you a n t 
 able to turn out to have "satisfaction upon the enemy for what 
 they ve done to you. Now, though I do say you re to keep 
 quiet, and lie snug at the present, that isn t to say that you re 
 to do nothing. No, no you re to get in readiness for what s 
 to come, and not be wanting when you have a chance to turn 
 your enemy upon his back. It a n t revenge, but it s justice, 
 and my lawful, natural right, that I fights for ; and you mustn t 
 be cast down, Airnest, seeing that then you mought n be ready 
 :o take the benefit of a good opportunity." 
 
 " It s revenge not less than justice," said the youth, impa 
 tiently. " I must have the one, whether the other bo obtained 
 or not I will have it I will not sleep in its pursuit; and 
 yet, Thumbscrew, I will take your advice I will be prudent 
 in order to be successful I will pause in order to proceed. 
 Do not fear me now I shall do nothing which will risk my 
 adventure or myself; but I will temper my mood with caution, 
 and seek for that vengeance, which shall be the white speck 
 among the clouds of which you have spoken." 
 
 " Well, now, that s what I call becoming, and straight-for 
 ward right. I m for but hush ! don t you hear something like 
 a critter ? and that was the bark of a cur, I ll be sworn to it." 
 
 The sturdy woodman thrust his ear to the earth, and the 
 sound grew more distinct. 
 
 " Keep close, Airnest, now, and I ll Icok out, and make ah 
 examination. There s only one horse, I reckon, from the 
 sound ; but I ll see before I leave the bush. I ll whistle should 
 I want you to lend a hand in the business." 
 
 Seizing his rifle as he spoke, with an alacrity which seemed 
 incompatible with his huge limbs, and must have surprised one 
 who had only beheld him as he lay supine before, he bounded 
 quickly but circumspectly up the hill, and through the copse 
 toward the highway whence the sounds that had startled them 
 appeared to proceed. The cause of the disturbance may very 
 well be reserved for explanations in another chapter. 
 
MKLLICIIAMJ E. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 YORKSHIRE VERSUS YORKSHIRE. 
 
 BEFORE reaching the road the sturdy woodman became yet 
 more cnutions, and, Ptealing from cover to cover, thus eluded 
 any eye that might be approaching upon it. He gained the 
 cover of a little bodge, formed of the tallow-bush and myrtle, 
 and crouched cautiously and silently out of sight, as he per 
 ceived, from the vhort, quick cry of the cur, that he was ad 
 vancing rapidly. He had scarcely done so, and arranged an 
 aperture in the copse through which he might observe the 
 road, when he beheld the cause of the uproar which the dog 
 was making. Leaping in irregular bounds, and evidently 
 nearly exhausted, a frightened rabbit came down the trace, 
 inclining from the opposite and open ground of pine forest, to 
 the close bushes in which he was himself concealed. 
 
 "Poor Bon," exclaimed the woodman, " it s a bad chance 
 for her this time. I only hope she won t pop into this quarter, 
 or it will be a bad chance for some of her friends." 
 
 The muttered apprehensions of the woodman were realized. 
 His eye had scarcely noted the pursuing dog which emerged from 
 the wood closely upon the rabbit s heels, when the poor thing 
 mshed to the very shelter in which he stood, and, darting be 
 tween his legs, was there secured by their involuntary pres 
 sure together. He stooped to the earth, and took up the trern- 
 rding animal, which lay quivering in his grasp, preferring, by 
 the natural prompting of its instinct, to trust the humanity of 
 man rather than the well-known nature of the enemy which 
 had pursued it. 
 
 " Poor Bonny," said the woodman, soothingly, as he caressed 
 it. "Poor Bon you could nt "help it, Bon.iy you were too 
 
YOKKSIIIKK VERSUS VOKKSHIRK. 39 
 
 mighty frightened to know the mischief you re a-doing. Ten 
 to one you ve got us into a hobble, now ; but there s nothing 
 to be done but to see it out." 
 
 The dog by this time rushed into the brush, and recoiled 
 instantly as he beheld the stranger. The quick, rapid cry 
 with which he had pursued the rabbit, was exchanged for the 
 protracted bark with which he precedes his assault upon the 
 man. His white teeth were displayed, and,~as if conscious of 
 approaching support, he advanced boldly enough to the attack. 
 The woodman grew a little angry, and lifting his rifle in one 
 hand, while maintaining the terrified but quiet rabbit in the 
 other, he made an exhibition of it which prompted the cur to 
 give back. It was then that, through the bushes, he saw a 
 person approaching along the road whom he readily took to 
 be the owner of the dog. Ho dropped his rifle instantly, which 
 he suffered to rest, out of sight, against a tree which stood be 
 hind him ; and, hallooing to the new-comer, he advanced with 
 out hesitation from his place of concealment into the road. 
 
 Blonay for it was he drew up his tacky, and the rifle 
 which he carried across the saddle, in his hand, was grasped 
 firmly, and, at the first moment, was partially uplifted ; but 
 seeing that the stranger was unarmed, he released his hold, 
 and saluted him with an appearance of as much good-humor 
 as lie could possibly put on. Thumbscrew advanced to him 
 with the trembling rabbit which he macis the subject of hia 
 first address. 
 
 "How are you, stranger? I reckon this is some of your 
 property that I ve got here seeing as how your dog started 
 it. I cotched it twixt my legs the poor thing was so scared, 
 it did nt know not it that twas going out of the frying-pan 
 into the fire. It s your n now ; though, dang it, stranger, if so 
 be you don t want it much, I d rether now you d tell me to put 
 it down in the bush and let it run, while you make your dog 
 hold in. It s so scared, you see, and it s a pity to hurt any 
 thing in naturwheu you see it scared." 
 
 He patted the feeble and trembling animal encouragingly 
 as he spoke, and Blonay was surprised that so large a man 
 should be so gently inclined. He himself cared little, at any 
 
40 MKLLICHAMl-K. 
 
 time, about the feelings and the fears of yet larger objects 
 His reply to the application for mercy was favorable, bow- 
 ever. 
 
 " Well, if you choose, my friend, you can let it go. I don i 
 want it. The dog only started it for his own fun, seeing that 
 it s toe nature of the beast. Here, Hitch em, Hitch em ! lie 
 down, nigger and shut up. You can let her go now, my 
 friend." 
 
 Bionay quieted his dog, and Thumbscrew took his way into 
 cover, watched his moment, and, with a parting pat upon its 
 back, and a cheering " Hurrah, Bou ! run for it with your best 
 legs," dismissed the little captive, once more in safety, to its 
 forest habitations. He then returned to the spot where Blonay 
 remained in waiting, and, in his blunt, good-humored way, at 
 once proceeded to commence a conversation with him, after 
 the manner of the country, with a direct question. 
 
 "Well, now, stranger, you ve been travelling a bit can 
 you tell me, now, if you ve seed anywhere in your travels a 
 man or boy that looks very much like a thief, riding upon a 
 fine, dark-bay nag, that looks like he was stolen?" 
 
 " No, that I haven t, friend ; I m much obliged to you, but I 
 haven t seen any," v^as the reply of Blonay. 
 
 " Well, you needn t 03 obliged to me, stranger, seeing it s 
 no service to you, tli3 question I ax d you. But if it a n t 
 axing you too much, I should like to know which road you 
 come." 
 
 " Well, to say truth, now, my friend, I don t know the name 
 it goes by ; it s a main bad road, you see." 
 
 " I ax, you see, because, when you tells me you a n t seed 
 the nag and them that s riding him on the road you come, it s 
 a clear chance they ve gone t other. So, now, if you ll only 
 but say which road you tuk, I ll take the contrary." 
 
 The reasoning was so just, and the air of simplicity so com 
 plete, which the inquirer had put on, that Blonay saw no ne 
 cessity for keeping concealed so unimportant a matter as tho 
 mere route which he had been travelling; so, without any fur 
 ther scruple, he gave the required information. 
 
 " Well, then, J reckon, stranger, you re all the way frorp 
 
YORKSHIRE VEKSUS YORKSHIRE. 41 
 
 the big city, clear down to the salt seas. There s a power of 
 people there now, a n t there?" 
 
 " I a n t from Charleston," coldly replied the half-breed. 
 
 " Oh, you a n t ! but, do tell you hear d about a man that 
 s\ as hung at Dorchester -reckon you -seed it?" 
 
 He worn t hung ; he got off." 
 
 What! they pardoned him and so many people as was 
 guine to see him dance upon nothing? What a disappoint 
 ment! 1 was a-guine down myself, but. you see, I lost n-\y 
 critter, and so I couldn t ; and now I m glad I didn t, if so be 
 as you say, he worn t hung." 
 
 "No, he worn t hung: there was a fight, and he got ayay. 
 But. this is only what they tell me ; I don t know myself." 
 
 -Who tell d you? 
 
 " The people." 
 
 "What, them that seed it? Perhaps them that did it 
 ch r 
 
 This was pushing tho matter quite too far, and Blonay be 
 gan to be uneasy undei so leading a question. He replied 
 quickly, after the evasive manner which was adopted between 
 them 
 
 " No ! I don t know ; they told me they heard it, and I 
 didn t ax much about it, for it worn t my business, you see." 
 
 " Oh ! that s right everybody to his own business, says I 
 and,, where people s a-fighting, clean hands and long distance 
 is always best for a poor mm and a stranger. They gits 
 a-fighting every now and then in these here parts, and they 
 do say they re a-mustering now above the sodgers." 
 
 What soldiers?" demanded Blonay, with an air of interest 
 
 "Eh! what sodgers 1 Them that carries guns and swords, 
 and shoots people, to be sure : them s sodgers, a n t they ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but have they got on uniforms, or is it only them that 
 carries a rifle, or a knife, or perhaps a rusty sword, or a hatchet ? 
 Some soldiers, you know, has fine boots and shoes, with shi 
 ning buttons, and high caps and feathers; and some ha n t got 
 shoes, and hardly breeches." 
 
 Blonay had become the examiner, and had begun with a 
 leading question also. He hail fairly described the British 
 
MKI,LI ,;JIAM1 E. 
 
 and tory troops in hit; enumeration of the one, and the rebels, 
 or whigs, in the deciription of the latter class. The formei 
 were usually well provided with arms, ammunition, and every 
 necessary warlike equipment; the whigs were simply riflemen, 
 half the time without powder and lead, and, during the greater 
 part of the war, without necessary clothing. To tell Blonay 
 R hich of these two classes was in the neighborhood, was no 
 part of Thumbscrew s policy ; and his reply, though unsatis 
 factory, was yet given with the most off-handed simplicity. 
 
 " They re all the same to me stranger, breeches or no 
 breeches, boots or no boots, lugl). caps and feathers, or a rag 
 ged steeple like mine they re all the same to me. A sodger s 
 a sodger; any man that can put a bullet into my gizzard, or 
 cut me a slash over my cheek, ir: and down, without any mar- 
 cy for my jawbone he s a sodger for me, and I gits out of 
 his way mighty soon, now, when I hear of his coming. It s a 
 lad business that, stranger, and I hope you don t deal in it. 
 I say I hope so, for I don t like to see a man I may say I 
 know, chopped up and down, and bored thiough his head, or 
 his belly, without any axing, and perhaps onbeknown to him." 
 
 No interest could be seemingly so earnest as that which 
 Thumbscrew manifested, as he thus expressed his anxiety on 
 the score of Goggle s connection with the military. He put 
 his hand warmly, as he spoke, upon the neck of the little tacky 
 which the other bestrode a movement which the rider did 
 not seem very greatly to approve, as he contrived, in the next 
 moment, by a sudden jerk, to wheel the animal away from the 
 grasp of the stranger, and to present himself once more in front 
 of him. Thumbscrew did not appeal 1 to charge the movement 
 so much upon the rider as the horse. 
 
 " Well, now, stranger, your nag is mighty skittish. It s a 
 stout pony that, and smells, for all the world, as if it had fed 
 on cane-tops and salt-marsh all its life. Talking about horses, 
 now, I ve heard say that they were getting mighty scarce down 
 in your parts, where the troops harry them with hard tiding. 
 Home say that they were buying and stealing all they could, 
 to bring troops up into this quarter. You a u t hear d any say 
 about it, I reckon ?" 
 
YORKSHIRE VERSUS YORKSHIRE. 43 
 
 The inquiry was adroitly insinuated, but Blonay was not to 
 be caught, even had he been in possession of the desired infor 
 mation. He availed himself of the question, however, to sug 
 gest another, by which, had his companion been less guarded, 
 he might have discovered to which party he belonged. 
 
 "What troops?" he asked, carelessly. 
 
 " Why, them that fights, to be sure. Troops, if I m rightly 
 told, is them men that rides on horseback, and fights with 
 swords and pistols, and the big cannon." 
 
 " Yes, troopers," said Blonay, tired,, seemingly, of putting 
 questions so unprofitably answered. 
 
 "Ay troopers, is it ? I always called them troops. But 
 you a n t tell d me if they re coming in these parts. You a n t 
 seed any on the road, I reckon? for you a n t hurt, that I 
 can see. But, may be you out-travelled em ; they shot at 
 you, though ?" 
 
 The volubility of Thumbscrew carried him so rapidly on in 
 his assumptions, that it was with difficulty Blonay kept him 
 self sufficiently reserved in his communications. He was at 
 some pains, however, to assure him that he had neither seen 
 any troops, nor been pursued, nor shot at by them ; that his 
 whole journey hitherto had been unmarked by any other ad 
 venture of more importance than the catching of the single 
 rabbit, in which Thumbscrew had himself so largely assisted. 
 This reference drew the attention of Thumbscrew to the rag 
 ged and mean-looking cur that followed the stranger. He ad 
 mired him exceedingly, and at length proceeded to ask 
 "Won t you trade him, now, stranger? I want a hunting-dog 
 mightily." 
 
 Blonay declined, and was so pleased and satisfied with the 
 simplicity of his new acquaintance, that he ventured to ask 
 some direct questions ; taking care, however, that none of 
 them should convey any committal of his sentiments. He 
 stated, for himself, that he was on his way to Black river and 
 the Santee ; that he was looking after a person who was in 
 debted to him; that he was a peaceable man, and wanted to 
 get on without fighting, and he was therefore desirous of avoid 
 ing all combatants Tn order to do this, he would like te 
 
4:4 
 
 SfELLlOIIAMl K. 
 
 know when- Gainey s men were (lories), and Marion s men-- 
 if they were likely to lie in his way by pursuing such and 
 such routes, all of which he named, and seemed to know, ai.d 
 how he should best avoid them. In making these inquiries, 
 Blonay had well adopted the manner of one solicitous for 
 peace, and only desirous of getting to the end of his journey 
 without difficulty or adventure. In referring to the different 
 leaders of the two parties in that section of country, he took 
 especial care, at the same time, to utter no word, and exhibit 
 no look or gesture, which could convey the slightest feeling 
 of partiality or preference, on his part, for either; and all that 
 Thumbscrew could conjecture from the inquiry, supposing that 
 the traveller was disguising the truth, was, that, so far from 
 his wishing to avoid all of these parties, by obtaining a knowl 
 edge of their lurking-places, he was rather in search of one or 
 the other of them. His scrutiny failed uttered when he strove 
 to find out which. He did not long delay to answer these 
 inquiries, which he did in the unsatisfactory fashion of all the 
 rest. 
 
 " Well, now, stranger, you ax a great deal more than I have 
 to answer. These here people that you talk about, I hear, 
 every day, something or other said of them, but nothing very 
 good, uow, either way. It s now one, and now another of 
 them that shoots the poor folk s cattle, and maybe shoots 
 them too, and there s no help for it. Sometimes Gainey s 
 people run over the country, burning and plundering then 
 Marion s men comes after, burning and plundering what s left, 
 So that, between the two, honest, quiet, good-natured sort of 
 people, like you and me, stranger we get the worst of it, and 
 must cut strap and take the brush, rather than lose life with 
 property. It s a sad time, now, stranger, I tell you." 
 
 " But you ha n t heard of either of em in these parts lately, 
 have you 1" inquired Blonay. 
 
 " Dang it, stranger, they re here, there, and everywhere : 
 they re never long missing from any one place, and dang 
 my buttons! I think I hear some of them coming now." 
 
 Thumbscrew turned as he spoke, and appeared to listen. 
 Sounds, as of horses feet, were certainly approaching, and 
 
VOKKSil IliK VEKSUS YOKKS11IRE. 4t> 
 
 perceptible to Blonay not less than to his dog. With the con 
 firmation of his conjecture, the woodman turned quickly to the 
 forest cover, and, shaking his head, cried to his companion, as 
 lie bounded into its depth 
 
 " Look to yourself, stranger, for, as sure ae a gun, some of 
 them sodgers is a-coming. They ll shoot you through the 
 body, and chop you into short meat, if you don t cut for it." 
 
 He disappeared on the instant, but not in flight. His pur 
 pose was to mislead Blonay, and it was sufficient for this that 
 he simply removed himself from sight. Keeping the edge of 
 the forest, as close to the road as he well might, to avoid dia- 
 covery from it, he now chose himself a station from which ho 
 might observe the approaching horsemen, and, at the same 
 time, remain in safety. This done, he awaited patiently their 
 approach. Hi? late companion, in the meanwhile, whose 
 policy was a like caution, quickly followed the suggestion and 
 example of the woodman, and sank into the forest immediately 
 opposite that which the latter had chosen for his shelter. 
 Here he imbowered himself in the woods sufficiently far for 
 concealment, and, hiding his horse, and placing his dog in 
 watch over him, he advanced on foot within a stone s cast from 
 the road, to a spot commanding a good view of everything 
 upon it. Here, in deep silence, he also stood a range of 
 trees between his person and that of the approaching horse 
 men, and his form more immediately covered by the huge body 
 of a pine, from behind which he occasionally looked forth in 
 scrutinizing watchfulness. 
 
MKLL1CHAMPE. 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE TORY SQUAD. 
 
 TUB two watchers bad not long to wait in their several 
 places of concealment The sound which had disturbed their 
 
 nferencc, and sent them into shelter, drew nigher momen 
 tarily, and a small body of mounted men, emerging at length 
 trom a bend in the irregu ar road over which they came ap 
 peared in sight. They were clothed in the rich, gorgeous 
 
 iform of the British army, and were well-mounted. Their 
 number, however, did not exceed thirty, and their general form 
 f advance and movement announced them to be less thought 
 ful, at that moment, of the dangers of ambuscade and battle, 
 than of the pleasant cheer and well-filled larder of the neio-h- 
 boring gentry. Two officers rode together, in advance of them 
 some little distance, and the free style of their conversation 
 the loud, careless tones of their voices, and the lounging, indif 
 ferent manner in which they sat upon their horses, showed 
 them to be, if not neglectful of proper precautions, at least 
 perfectly unapprehensive of any enemy. A couple of large 
 military wagons, drawn each by four able-bodied horses, ap 
 peared in the centre of the cavalcade, the contents of which, 
 no doubt, were of sufficient importance to call for such a guard. 
 i r et there was little or nothing of a proper military discipline 
 preserved in the ranks of the troop. Following the example 
 of the officers who commanded them, and who seemed, from 
 their unrestrained mirth, to be engaged in the discussion of 
 some topic particularly agreeable to both, the soldiers gave a 
 loose to the playfullest moods wild jest and free remark 
 passed from mouth to mouth, and they spoke, and looked, and 
 laughed, as if their trade was not suffering, and its probable 
 
THE .TORY SQUAD. 
 
 termination a bloody death. Their merriment, however, as it 
 was subdued, hi comparison with that of the officers, did not pro 
 voke their notice or rebuke. The whole party, in all respects, 
 seemed one fitted out for the purposes of pleasure rather than 
 of war. Elated by the recent victories of Cornwallis over 
 Gates, and Tarlcton over Sumtcr, together with the supposed 
 flight of Marion into North Carolina, and the dispersion of his 
 partisans, the British officers had foregone much of that severe, 
 but proper discipline, through which alone they had already 
 been ahle to achieve so much. The commander of the little 
 troop before us moved on with as much indifference as if ene 
 mies had ceased to exist, and as if his whole business now was 
 the triumph and the pageant which should follow successes so 
 complete. 
 
 " Gimini !" exclaimed Thumbscrew, as he beheld, at a dis 
 tance, their irregular approach. "Gimini! if the major was 
 only here now, jist with twenty lads only twenty would do 
 maybe he wouldn t roll them redjackets in the mud ! v 
 
 The close approach of the troop silenced the further 
 speculations of the woodman, and he crouched among tho 
 ihrubbery, silent as death, but watchful of every movement, 
 The person of the captain who commanded them was rather 
 remarkable for its strength than symmetry. He was a man 
 D brawn and muscle of broad shoulders and considerable 
 tieight. His figure was unwieldy, however, and, though a 
 good, he was not a graceful horseman. His features were fine. 
 but inexpressive, and his skin brown with frequent exposure. 
 There was something savage rather than brave in the expres 
 sion of his mouth, and his nose, in addition to its exceeding 
 feebleness, had an ugly bend inward at its termination, which 
 -poke of a vexing and querulous disposition. His companion 
 was something slenderer in hi" person, and considerably more 
 youthful. There was noth>i-- worthy of remark in his ap 
 pearance, unless it be that he was greatly given to laughter 
 an unprofitable habit, which seemed to be irresistible and con 
 firmed in him, and vhkh was not often found to await the 
 proper time and provocation. He appeared of a thoughtless 
 temper one who was content, with the surfaces of things, and 
 
tS 
 
 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 lid not disturb the waters with a discontented spirit, seeking 
 for more pleasure than the surface gave him. At the moment 
 of their approach the good-humor of the two was equally 
 shared between them. The subject upon which they had been 
 conversing appeared to have been productive of no small 
 decree of merriment to both, and of much undisguised satis 
 faction to the elder, lie chuckled with uncontrollable compla 
 cency, and, long after the laugh of his companion had ceased, 
 a lurking smile hung upon his lips, that amply denoted the still 
 lingering thought of pleasure in his mind. Though ignorant 
 of the occasion of their mirth before, we may now, as they 
 approach, hear something of the dialogue, which was renewed 
 after a brief pause between them ; and which, though it may 
 .i.ot unfold to us the secret of their satisfaction, may at leas! 
 inform us, in some degree, of much that is not less necessary 
 lor us to know. The pause was broken by the younger of the 
 two, whose deferential and conciliatory manner, while it spoke 
 the inferior, was, at the same time, dashed with a phrase of 
 fireside familiarity, which marked the intimacy of the boon 
 companion. 
 
 "And now, Barsfield, you may laugh at fortune for ever 
 niter. You have certainly given her your defiance, and have 
 triumphed over her aversion. You have beaten your enemy, 
 won your commission, found favor in the sight of your com 
 mand er, and can now sit down to the performance of a nominal 
 duty, with a tine plantation, and a stout force of negroes, all 
 at your command and calling you master. By St. George and 
 the old dragon himself, I should be willing that these rebels 
 should denounce me too as a tory, and by any other nickname, 
 for rewards like these." 
 
 " They may call me so if they think proper," said the other, 
 to whom the last portion of his comrade s remark seemed to be 
 scarcely welcome ; " but, by God ! they will be wise not to let 
 me hear them. I have had that name given me once already 
 
 by that insolent boy, and I did not strike him down for it he 
 
 may thank his good fortune and the interposition of that fellow 
 Witherspoon, that I did not but it will be dangerous for any 
 living man to repeat the affront." 
 
THE TOKY SQUAD. 4:9 
 
 "And why should you mind it, Barsfield 1" responded his 
 companion. " It can do you no mischief the term is perfectly 
 innocuous. It breaks no skin it takes away no fortune." 
 
 " No ! but it sticks to a man like a tick, and worries him all 
 his life," said the other. 
 
 "Only with your thin-skinned gentry. For such an estate 
 as yours, Barsfield, they might he licensed to call me by any 
 nickname which they please." 
 
 " I am not so indulgent, Lieutenant Clayton," replied the 
 other; "and, let me tell you that you don t know the power 
 of a nickname among eri3rioc. A nickname is an argument, 
 and one of that sort too, that, afi ,3?: cncc hearing it, the vulgar 
 are sure n67cr to listen tc any other. It has been of no small 
 influence already in this s.imc war a v id it will he of greater 
 effect toward th3 conclusion, If it should ever so happen that 
 the war eho!ild terminate. y.nf*vf;rably to the arms of his maj 
 esty." 
 
 "But you don t think any such result possible?" was the 
 immediate reply of CUyt" .-?., 
 
 "No not new. Tiii . last licking of Sumter, and the 
 wholesale defeat of Gatos- have pretty well done up the rebels 
 in this quarter. Georgia has been long shut up, and North 
 Carolina will only wake up to find her legs fastened. As for 
 Virginia, if Cornwallis goes on at the present rate, he ll strad 
 dle her quite in two weeks more. No ! I think that rebellion 
 is pretty nigh wound up ; and, if we can catch the swamp fox, 
 or find out where lie hides, I ll contrive that we shall have no 
 more difficulty from him." 
 
 " Let that once take place," replied his companion, " and 
 you mity then retire comfortably, in the enjoyment of the 
 ctium cum digniiatc, the reward of hard fighting and good 
 generalship, to the shady retreats of Kaddipah. By-the- 
 wy, Barsfield, you must change that name to something mod 
 ern something English. I hate these abominable Indian 
 names they arc so uncouth, and so utterly harsh and foreign 
 in an English ear. We must look up a good name for your 
 Ktflement." 
 
 " You mistake. I would not change the name for the 
 
50 MELLICHAMT E. 
 
 world. I have always known the place by that name, long 
 before I ever thought to call it mine ; and the name sounds 
 sweet in my ears. Besides I like these Indian names, of which 
 you so much complain. They sound well, and are always 
 musical." 
 
 " They are always harsh to me, and then they have no 
 meaning none that we know anything about." 
 
 " And those we employ have as little. They are generally 
 borrowed from individuals who were their proprietors, and thii? 
 is the case with our Indian names, which have the advantage 
 in softness and enphas .c. No.! K^ddipah Thicket shall not 
 lose its old name ;r. gaining ?. :iC7/ owner. It wouldn t look 
 to me half so bea\itiful if I were to give it any other. I have 
 rambled over its woods wlien a boy, and hunted through them 
 when a man, man and boy, for thirty yaars known all its 
 people, and the name ceems to 113 a kistoiy, and brings to me 
 a whole world of reccliect .cns, Vnhh I should be apt to lose 
 were I to change it. * 
 
 " Some of them, Barsfiald, it ap osars to me i-hat you should 
 prefer to lose. The insult of o!d Mellichampe, for example." 
 
 "I revenged it!" wtc Ins reply, quickly and gloomily 
 uttered. " I revenged it in his blood, and the debt is paid." 
 
 " But the co.i 1 did you not, only now, complain of him also ? 
 did he, not csJ.l you * 
 
 " Tory ! I ll finish the oantence for you, as I would rather, 
 if the word is to be repeated in my ears, have the utterance to 
 myself. You are an Englishman, and the name does not, 
 and can not be made to apply to you here, and you can not 
 understand, therefore, the force of its application from one 
 American to another ! He called me a tory denounced, le- 
 fied ; and struck at me, and I would have slain him ay, even 
 in the halls which are henceforward to call me master >.r.t 
 that I was held back by others, whose prudence, perhaps, saved 
 the lives of both of us ; for the strife would have been pell-mell, 
 and that fellow Witherspoon, who was the overseer of old 
 Mellichampe, had a drawn knife ready over my shoulder, at 
 the moment that mine was lifted at the breast of the insolent 
 youngster. But this is a long story, and you already krow it. 
 
THE TOBY SQUAD. 51 
 
 I have been revenged on the father, and have my debt against 
 the son. That shall be cancelled also, in due course of 
 Hrae." 
 
 " And where is the youngster now, Barsfield ] Have you any 
 knowledge of his movements 1" 
 
 " None. His mother has fled to the Santee, where she is 
 sheltered by Watson. But of the son I know nothing. He 
 is not with her, that s certain ; for Evans, whom I sent off in 
 that direction as a sort of scout and watch over her, reports 
 that he has not yet made his appearance." 
 
 "He must be out with Marion, then?" was the suggestion 
 of the other. 
 
 We shall soon see that, for our loyalists are all ready and 
 earnest for a drive after the fox ; and itwilj be a close swamp 
 that will keep him away from hunters such as ours. These 
 arms will provide two hundred of them, and we have full that 
 number ready to volunteer. In a week more I hope to give a 
 good account of his den, and all in it." 
 
 While this dialogue was going on, the speakers continued 
 to approach the spot where Thumbscrew lay in hiding. It 
 was not long, as they drew nigh, before he distinguished the 
 person of Barsfield, and a fierce emotion kindled in his eye as 
 he looked out from his shelter upon the advancing figure of the 
 successful tory. His whole frame seemed agitated with the 
 quickening rush of the warm blood through his veins his 
 teeth were gnashed for a moment fiercely, and, freeing a way 
 through the bushes for his rifle-muzzle, in the first gush of his 
 excited feelings, he lifted the deadly weapon to his eye, 
 brought back the cock with the utmost precaution, avoiding 
 any unnecessary click, and prepared to plant the fatal bullet 
 in the head of the unconscious victim. But the tory rode by 
 unharmed. A gentler, or, at least, a more prudent feeling, 
 got the better of the woodman s momentary mood of passion 
 and, letting the weapon fall quietly into the hollow of his arm, 
 he muttered in a low tone to himself 
 
 " Not yet, not yet let him pass let him git on as he can. 
 It ain t time yet he must have a little more swing for it be 
 fore I bring him, for tain t God s pleasure that I should drop 
 
52 MKLLICIIAMl E. 
 
 him now. I don t feel like it, and so I know *t can t be, rig , 
 It s a cold-blooded thing, and looks too much like murder; 
 land, God help me, it ain t come to that yet, for Jack Wither- 
 spoon to take it out of his enemy s hide without giving him 
 fair play for it. Let him go let him go. Ride on, Barsfield ; 
 the bullet s to be run yet that bothers you." 
 
 And, thus muttering to himself, the woodman beheld his 
 victim pass by him in safety, his troop and wagons following. 
 He was about to turn away and seek his comrade in the wood, 
 when he saw his travelling acquaintance, Blonay, emerge 
 from the opposite quarter, and place himself before the British 
 officers. This movement at once satisfied the doubts of Thumb 
 screw as to the politics of the low-countryman. 
 
 " As I thought," said he to himself, " the fellow s a skunk, 
 and a monstrous sly one. He knows how to badger, and can 
 beat the bush like a true scout. It s a God s pity that a fel 
 low that has good qualities like that, shouldn t have soul 
 enough to be an honest man. But no matter pay-day will 
 come for all; and Truth will fcave to wait in the swamp till 
 Cunning can go help her out." 
 
 Thus moralizing, the woodman went back from his hiding- 
 place, and soon joined his now impatient companion. 
 
 Blonay, in the meanwhile, had made the acquaintance of 
 the British party. Confirmed by their uniform, he boldly ad 
 vanced, and presented himself before the captain. 
 
 "Who the devil are you?" was the uncourteous salutation. 
 
 A grin and a bow, with a few mumbled words, was the sort 
 of reply manifested by the half-breed, who followed up this 
 overture by the presentation of the passport furnished by Proc 
 (or. Barsfield read the scroll, and threw it back to him. 
 
 " And so you are going our way, I see by your paper. It is 
 well you will prefer, then, falling in with us, and taking our 
 protection ?" 
 
 Blonay bowed assent, and muttered his acknowledgments. 
 
 " And, perhaps," continued the tory captain, " as you are a 
 true friend to his majesty s cause, you will not object to a 
 drive into the swamps along with us after these men of Marion, 
 who are thought to be lurking about here?" 
 
THE TOBY SQUAD. 53 
 
 The half-breed gave his ready assurance of a perfect will 
 ingness to do so. 
 
 " Well said, my friend ; and now tell us, Mr. Blonay, what 
 have been your adventures upon the road ? What have yor> 
 seen deserving of attention since you caine into this neighbor 
 hood?" 
 
 The person addressed did not fail to relate all the particul 
 ars of his meeting, but a little before, with the woodman, as 
 the reader has already witnessed it. Barsfield listened with 
 some show of attention, and only interrupted the narrator to 
 ask for a description of the stranger s person. This was given, 
 me! l;. r id the effect of producing an expression of earnest thought 
 hi llie countenance of the listener. 
 
 "Very large, you bay broad about the shoulders? And 
 you s;iy he went into this wood ?" 
 
 " Off there, cappin, close on to them bays, and in them 
 bushes?" 
 
 Barsfield looked over inf" the "luck-set and seemingly 
 impervious ibi-sot, and sav at a glance how doubtful and 
 difficult 7<rould 03 the pursuit, In suJi a place, even were 
 the object irr.pcrtant, of a single man. After a momentary 
 pause of r.ctnn ?.~>.d speech, no gave orders suddenly to move 
 on in the pain tlis/ were pffsuing. r J?aking the direction of 
 his fir. 3r, Blonay fell beh rid and TT&Z soon mingled in with 
 the party that followed. 
 
 "You shall s-30, my falv neighbor/ 1 aai i the tory captain to 
 his compnnion, v/hen the paty resume:! its progress, as if in 
 continuation of the previous discourse ; 3Jue is as beautiful and 
 young, Clayton, as she is pure and intellectual. She is the prize, 
 dearer and richer than ail of my previous attainment, for 
 which I would freely sacrifice them all. You shall see her, and 
 swear to what 1 have said." 
 
 "You will make her your own soon, then, I Imagine/ said* 
 the other, " esteeming her so highly." 
 
 "If I can be sure of it," responded Barsrnla. "I will 
 try devilish hard for it, I assure you; and it will bo devilish 
 hard, indeed, if, with a fine plantation, and no little power 
 with a person which, though not superb, 13 at least passable" 
 
iii 
 
 5-1 MKLI.SCII A.Mi h. 
 
 an 1 the speaker looked down upon his own bulky frame 
 with some complacency " it will be devilish hard, I say, if I 
 do not try successfully. Her old father, too, Avill back me to 
 the utmost, for he is devilish scary, and, being a good loyalist, 
 is very anxious to have a son-in-law who can protect his 
 catllci from the men of Marion. They have half frightened 
 already into consent, and have thus done me much more 
 than they ever intended." 
 
 " But your maiden herself, the party chiefly concerned ?" 
 .^aid Clayton, inquiringly. 
 
 " She lights shy, and does not seem over-earnest to listen to 
 my courtier speeches; but she is neither stern nor unapproach 
 able, and, when she replies to me, it is always gently and 
 sweetly." 
 
 " Then she is safe, be sure of it," was the sanguine response 
 of the other. 
 
 "Not sc," r j c id the more cagasious Barsfield, "not so. I 
 am not so well satisfied that because she is gentle she will be 
 yielding. She c .u cict bo otiierwiss than gentle she can not 
 speak otherwise than sweetly, even though her words be those 
 of denial. I would rath 31 a cursed sight that she should wince 
 H little, and aemblo when I talk to her; for then I should 
 know that she-, was moved with *i interest one way or the 
 other. Your cool, composed sort of woman, is not to be sur 
 prised into any foolish weakness. They must listen long, and 
 liko to listen, before you can do anything with them. But you 
 shall ;C5 liar soon for here her father s fields commence. A 
 fine clearing, you see, and the old buck is tolerably well off- 
 works SCUM- < l i^hty hands, and has a stock that would fit out u 
 dozen Scotch graziers." 
 
 Thus discussing the hopes and expectations which mala 
 ill*;-, aim and being of the dissolute adventurer, they pricked 
 their *vay onward with all speed, to the dwelling of those who 
 w a .ri lo be the anticipated victims. 
 
THE PLOT THICKENS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS. 
 
 SLOWLY, and with an expression of sorrow in his counte 
 nance, corresponuing witli the uuelastic and measured move 
 ment of his body, Thumbscrew took his way back to the hollow 
 where he had left his more youthful companion. 
 
 44 Well, what nave you seen to keep you so long, Thumb- 
 acre w ?" was the impatient inquiry of the youth. The answer 
 of the woodman to this interrogatory was hesitatingly uttered, 
 a BO. he first deliberately told of his encounter with Blonay, and 
 the nature of the unsatisfactory dialogue which had taken 
 place between them. He dwelt upon the cunning with which 
 the other bad kept his secret during the conference ; " but I 
 found him out at last," said he, " and now I knows him to be 
 a skunk a reg lar built tory, as I mought ha known from the 
 first. moment 1 laid eyes on him." 
 
 Well and where is he now, and how did you discover 
 this?" was the inquiry of the other. 
 
 This inquiry necessarily unfolded the intelligence concern 
 ing the troop of horse, whose number, wagons, and equipments, 
 lie gave with all the circurnspectness and fidelity of an able 
 scout ; and this done, he was silent ; with the air, however, of 
 one who has yet something to unfold. 
 
 "But who commanded them, Thumbscrew ?" asked the other, 
 "and what appeared to be their object? You are strangely 
 limited in your intelligence, and, at this rate, will hardly 
 justify the eulogy of Major Singleton, who considers you ths 
 very best scout in the brigade. Can you tell us nothing more 1 
 What sort of cauUin had they T 
 
66 M 
 
 "A stout fellow, quite as broad, but not so tall as me, \v\i\i 
 a skin brown, like mine^ as a berry ; a hook nose, and a mouth 
 more like the chop of a broad-axe than anything else." 
 
 lie paused, and the eyes of the scout and those of his 
 young- comrade met. There was a quickening apprehension 
 of the truth in those of Mellichampe, which made them kindle 
 with successive flashes, while his mouth, partaking of the sain.: 
 influence, quivered convulsively, as, bending forward to hie 
 more sedate companion, he demanded, with a stern, brief 
 manner 
 
 " You are not speaking of Barsfieid, surely?" 
 
 "I an? --that s the critter, or I m no Christian," 
 
 The youth eeizsd his rifle as he replied "Aid yen shot 
 him noi; down ! you suffered him to pass you in r^.fety ! my 
 father s blood yet upon his L.._ds unavenged and he going 
 now, doubtless, to reap the reward of his erl.ne and perfidy ! 
 But he can not have gone far. He must b3 yet within reach, 
 and, by the Eternal ! he shall not escape me now. Hold me 
 not back, Thumbscrew hold me not back ! I deem you no 
 friend of mine that suffered the wretch to pass on in safety, 
 and I shall deem you still less my friend if you labor to re 
 strain me now. Hold me not, I tell you, Witherspoou, or it 
 will be worse for you." 
 
 The youth, as he spoke, leaped upon his feet in a convulsion 
 of passion, that seemed to set at defiance all restraint. His 
 eyes, that before had sent forth only irregular flashes of light 
 and impulse, were now fixed in a steady, unmitigated flame, 
 that underwent no change. Not so his lips, which quivered 
 and paled more fitfully than ever. He strove earnestly with 
 his strong-limbed comrade, who had grasped him firmly with 
 the first ebullition of that passion which he seemed to have 
 anticipated. 
 
 " What would you do, Airnest ? don t be foolish now, I beg 
 you ; running your head agin a pine knot that you can t swal 
 low. It s all foolishness to go on so, and can do no good. As 
 to shooting that skunk, I couldn t and wouldn t do it, though 
 I had the muzzle up, and it was a sore temptation, Aiiaest ; 
 for I remembered the old man, and his white hair, ap4 if 
 
THE PLOT THICKENS. 57 
 
 before my eyes jist like a picture, as I seed it last when it 
 was thickened together with his own blood." 
 
 " Yet you could remember all this, and suffer his murderer 
 to escape ?" reiterated the other. 
 
 " Yes ! for it goes agin the natur of an honest man to bite a 
 man with cold bullet, when the t other a n t on his guard agin 
 it. I ll take a shot any day with Barsfield, man to man, or 
 where a fight s going on with a hundred, but, by dogs ! I can t 
 lie at the roadside, under a sapling, and send a bullet at him 
 onawares, as he s riding down the trace. It s an Injen way, 
 and it s jist as bad as any murder I ve ever hearn tell of their 
 doing. No, no, Airnest; there s a time coining ! as I may say, 
 the day of judging them s at hand ; for here, you see, is this 
 chap, going down now, snug and easy, with a small handful 
 of troops, to take possession of Kaddipah. Let him set down 
 quietly till the fox gets up his men, and I ll lay you what you 
 please we git our satisfaction out of him by fair fight. We ll 
 smoke him out of his hole fore Sunday next, if I m not mon- 
 i-trous wide in my calkilation." 
 
 " And where is the difference between shooting him now 
 and shooting him then 1 I see none. Release me, Mr. With- 
 erspoon," cried the other, his anger now beginning to turn 
 upon the tenacious Thumbscrew, who held upon his body with 
 a grasp that set at defiance all his efforts. In the next moment 
 he was released, as he had desired, and, with a deference of 
 manner, a subdued and even sadder visage, the countryman 
 addressed the youth : 
 
 You re gitting into a mighty passion, Airnest, and, what s 
 worse, you re gitting in a passion with me, that was your friend 
 and your father s friend, ever since I kncw d you both, though; 
 to be sure, I never could do much for either of you in the way 
 of friendship." 
 
 " I am not angry with you, Witherspoon ; only, I am no 
 child, to be restrained after this fashion. I know you are my 
 friend, and God knows I have too few now to desire the loss of 
 any one of them and particularly of one who, like yourself, 
 has clung to me in all trials ; but there is a certain boundary 
 beyond which one s best friend has no right to go." 
 
" Oh, yes ! I understand all tliat, Airncst. I m your friend 
 BO long as I don t think or act contrary to your thinking and 
 acting. Xo\v, to my thinking, that s a bargain that will only 
 answer Cor one side, and I never yet made a bargain in my 
 lii e under them sort of tarms. If I sells a horse or buys one, 
 I does it because I thinks there ll be some sort of benefit or 
 gain to myself. I don t want to take onduc advantage of the 
 other man, but I expects to git as good as I gives. That s the 
 trade for me ; whether it be a horse that I trades, or my 
 good word and the heart, rough or gentle, all the same, that 
 I bring to barter with my friend. When I makes sich a trade, 
 I can t stand and see the, man I trade with making light of 
 the article I gives him. If it s my friendship and good word, 
 he mustn t make them a sort of plaything, to sport which way 
 he pleases ; and, so long as I say I m his friend, he shaVt 
 butt a tree if I can keep his head from it, though I have tc 
 take main force to hold him in. On them same tarms, .Ail- 
 nest, I stood by the old squire, your father, when he got 
 into difficulties about the line of his land with Ilitchin^ham : 
 
 o 
 
 when the two got all their friends together, and foul, as one 
 may say, like so many tiger-cats, along the rice-dam, for two 
 long hours by sun. You ve hearn tell of that excursion, I m 
 thinking. That was a hard brush, and I didn t skulk like a 
 skunk then, as they will all tell you that seed it. But that 
 worn t the only time ; there was others, more than a dozen beside 
 that, and all jist as tough, when Thumbscrew hung on to the 
 squire, as if he was two other legs and arms of the same body, 
 and nobody could touch tire one without touching the other. 
 Then came that scrape with Barsfield ; and now I tell you, 
 Airnest, it worn t a murder, as you calls it, but a fair light, 
 for both the parties was fairly out ; and, though the old 
 squire, your father, was surprised, and not on his proper 
 guard, yet it was a fair-play fight, and sich as comes about, as 
 I may say, naturally, in all our skrimmages with the tories. 
 They licked us soundly, to be sure, cause they had the most 
 men ; but we fout em to the last, and twas a fair fight from 
 the jump." 
 
5 J 
 
 4< And what of all this, now why do you repeat this to me 
 here?" said the other, with no little imperiousness. 
 
 " Why, you see, only to show you, Airnest, as a sort of ex 
 cuse and apology for what I did in trying to keep you from 
 going after Barsfield " 
 
 "Apology, Witherspoon !" exclaimed the other. 
 "Yes, Airnest, apology that s the very word I makes use 
 of. I jist wanted to show you the reason why I tuk the lib 
 erty of trying to keep an old friend s son out of harm s way, 
 that s all. I promise you, Airnest, I won t make you angry 
 agin, though I don t see yet the harm of liking a body so much 
 as to do the best for em." 
 
 The woodman turned away as he spoke, lifted his rifle, and 
 seemed busy in rubbing the stock of it with the sleeve of his 
 hunting-shirt. The youth seemed touched by this simple ex 
 hortation. Without a word he approached his unsophisticated 
 companion, whose face was turned from him, and placing his 
 hand affectionately, with a gentle pressure, upon his shoulder, 
 thus addressed him : 
 
 " Forgive me, Jack I was wrong. iVgive me, and forget 
 it. I am rash, foolish, obstinate it s my fault, I know, to be 
 so, and I try to control my disposition, always, when I m with 
 you. You know I would nt hurt your feelings for the world. 
 I know you love me, Jack, as if I were your own brother ; and 
 believe me, my old friend my father s friend believe me, 
 I love you fully as much. Say, now, that you forgive me 
 do say !" 
 
 " Dang my eyes ! Airnest, but, by the powers ! you put it 
 to me too hard sometimes. Jist when I m doing the best, or 
 trying to do the best, you plump head over heels into my teeth, 
 and I m forced to swallow my own doings. It a n t right it 
 a n t kind of you, Airnest; and, dang it, boy, I don t see why 
 I should keep trying to do for you, to git no thanks, and little 
 better than curses for it. I m sure I gits nothing by sticking 
 to you through thick and thin." 
 
 Half relenting, and prefacing his yielding mood only by this 
 outward coating of obduracy, the woodman thus received the 
 overtures of his .companion, who was as ready to melt witr 
 
60 
 
 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 generous emotion as he was to seek for strife under a fierce 
 and impetuous one. The youth half turned away as the lattei 
 reply met his ears, and, removing his hand from the shoulder 
 where it had rested, with a freezing tone and proud manner, 
 he replied, while appearing to withdraw 
 
 " It is indeed time, Mr. Witherspoon, that company should 
 part, when one reproaches the other with his poverty. You 
 certainly have said truly, that you have nothing to gain by 
 clinging to me and mine." 
 
 "Oh, Airnest, boy but that s too much," he cried, leaping 
 round and seizing the youth s hands, Avhile he pressed his 
 eyes, now freely suffused, down upon them. " I <lidn t mean 
 that, Airnest, I m all over foolish to-day, and done nothing but 
 harm. It was so from morning s first jump ; I ve been fooling 
 and blundering like a squalling hen in an old woman s cup 
 board. Push me on one side, I m sure to plump clear to the 
 other end, break all the cups and dishes, and fly in the old 
 wife s face, before I can git out. It s your turn to forgive me, 
 Airnest, and don t say that we must cut each other. God help 
 me, Airnest, if I was to dream of sich a thing, I m sure your 
 father s sperrit would haunt me, with his white hair sticking 
 all fast with blood, and " 
 
 "No more, Jack, old fellow, let us talk no more of that, but 
 sit down here, and say what we are to do now about that rep 
 tile, Barsiield." 
 
 Bless you, Airnest, what can we do till the fox whistles ? 
 We ll have news for him to-morrow, and must only see where 
 Barsfield goes to-night, and larn what we can of what he s 
 going to do. I suspect that them wagons have got a plenty 
 of guns and bagnets, shot and powder for the tories j and if so, 
 there ll be a gathering of them mighty soon in this neighbor 
 hood. We shall see some of the boys to-morrow Humphries 
 and Roaring Dick ride on this range, and we may hear their 
 whistle in the Bear Brake before morning." 
 
 " We must meet them there, then, one or other of us certainly. 
 In the meantime, as you say, we must trail this Barsfield 
 closely, and look where he sleeps, since you will not let me 
 shoot him." 
 
THE PLOT TIIIOKKNS. . 
 
 "And where s the use ? I could ha put the bullet through 
 his skull to-day, but the next moment the dragoons would have, 
 made small work of a large man. They d ha chopped me 
 into mince-meat. There s no difficulty in killing one, but small 
 chance to git away after it, when there s so many of them upon 
 you; and, as I said afore, this shooting a man from the bush 
 unawares, when he s travelling in quiet, looks too much like 
 cold-blooded Ingin murder, it s like scalping and tomahawk. 
 Give the enemy a fair field, says I, though it be but a bow 
 logged nigger that s running from you in the swamp." 
 
 And, thus conferring, the two followed the route pursued by 
 Rarsfield and his party, until the shades of evening gathered 
 Leavily around them. 
 
MELUCHAMPB. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PINEY GROVE. 
 
 THE British trooperc, meanwhile, pursued their jouriiuf. 
 With an Inimility that knew its place, Blonay followed with 
 the hindmost, and showed no annoyance, though exposed to 
 the continual and coarse jests of those about him. He was be 
 comingly indifferent, as he seemed perfectly insensible. The 
 termination of the day s journey was at length at hand. The 
 zigzag fences rose upon both sides of the road. The negro 
 settlement, some thirty or forty log-dwellings, forming a square 
 to themselves, and each with its little enclosure, well stocked 
 with pigs, poultry, and the like, came in sight; and beyond, 
 the eager eye of Barsfield distinguished, while his hand pointed 
 out to his companion, the fine old avenue, long, overgrown, and 
 beautifully winding, which led to the mansion-house of the 
 Berkeley family. 
 
 "There," said lie, "is Piney Grove such ; s the name of 
 the estate* a narm vYc it p ;. ^erly takjs fbom the avenue 
 which loads to it, the chief growth of which, as you will see, 
 is the field-pine. You will not see nuiny like it in the country." 
 
 The troop halted at the entrance, which was soon thrown 
 open ; and, narrowing the form of their advance, they were in 
 a moment after hurrying along the shady passage which led 
 to the hospitable dwelling. Barsfield had said rightly to his 
 companion : there were not many avemr-"? in the country like 
 that which they now pursued. A beautiiul and popular fea 
 ture, generally, in all the old country-estates of Carolina, the 
 avenue in question was yet of peculiar design. Tn the lower 
 regions, where the spreading and ponderous live-oak present?* 
 
PINKY GROVK. 63 
 
 itself vigorously and freely, and seems by its magnificence and 
 shade expressly intended for sncli a purpose, no other sort of 
 tree can well be employed. Here, however, in the region 
 Avhich we now tread, wanting in that patriarchal tree, the field- 
 pine had been chosen -as the substitute, and nothing surely 
 could have been more truly beautiful than the one in question. 
 A waving and double line, . arried on in sweeping and curious 
 windings for two thirds of a mile, described by these trim and 
 tidy trees, enclosed the party, and formed a barrier on either 
 hand, over which no obtrusive vine or misplaced scion of some 
 foreign stock was ever permitted to gad or wander. Some 
 idea may be formed of the pains and care which had been 
 take.:-, ir. thus bending the free forests in subservience to the 
 will of nan, when we know that, though naturally a hardy 
 U ee cf the most vigorous growth, the pine is yet not readily 
 transplanted with success, and is so exceedingly sensitive in a 
 strange place, A-; in halt he number of instances to perish from 
 such a transfer. J. narrow but deep ditch formed an inner 
 parallel line with the ingh trees along the avenue; and ^he 
 earth, thus thrown up into a bank beneath the trees, gave ample 
 room and nutriment to a crowded hedge of greenbrier and gath 
 ering vines, interspersed, during a long season, with a thousand 
 various and beautiful flowers. 
 
 Emerging from the avenue, the vista opened upon a lovely 
 pank, which spread away upon either h;,nd &r.d was tastefully 
 sprinkled here and Jisrs, singly and ir* groups, with a fins col 
 lection of massive &.QG. c-ommAiia. ng ?7S.tei-oaks, from around 
 the base of whicli everything in tie guise cf shrubbery an! 
 undergrowth, the thick, long grass encepted, had besn c^,~c 
 fully pruned away. A few young horses were permitted to 
 ramble about and crop the verdure on one side of the entrant?., 
 while on the other a little knot of ruminating milch-cows, w 
 which a like privilege had been given, started up in alarm, 
 and tied at the approach of strangers so numerous and so gor 
 geously arrayed. Throwing aside the heavy, swinging gate 
 before them, the troopers passed through a trace leading for 
 ward directly to the dwelling. On either side of this passage 
 a fence of light scantling, \vhidi hnd (nee been whitewashed 
 
6 i 
 
 MKI.LICIIAMI K. 
 
 proved a barrier against any trespass of the cattle upon a prov 
 ince not their own. 
 
 The dwelling of Mr. Berkeley lay centrally before this pas 
 sage, and at a little distance in the rear of the park. It was 
 nn ancient mansion, of huge and clumsy brick, square ana 
 heavy in its design, though evidently well constructed. It was? 
 built about the time of the Ycmassee war, after the fashion of 
 that period, and was meant to answer the purposes of a fortress 
 against the savage, not less than a dwelling for the civilized 
 man. On one occasion the Edistohs had besieged it with a 
 force of nearly two hundred warriors ; but the stout plantei 
 who held it at the time, old Marmaduke Berkeley, with the aid 
 of his neighbors, and a few trusty Irish workmen, v!:.o iad 
 been employed upon the estate, made a sturdy defence, until 
 the friendly Indians, who were the allic^of the vj.ites, and, 
 consequently, foes to the Edistohs, came to their relief, and 
 beat off the invaders. The external aspect of the edifice boro 
 sufficient testimony of its antiquity, Tbo bricks were dark 
 and mouldy in appearance, and the walls in several places had 
 begun to crumble and crack beneath their own c^,h rousness 
 Clambering parasites on the northern side had r j.n t Uberti 
 over its surface, still holding on, even in corresponding ruin, 
 when half withered and sapless themselves. Little tufts of 
 dank moss protruded her-: and there from dusty apertures; and 
 s- close eye migLt even rd an insidious and lurking decay 
 Liriving fast in th yielding frame which sustained this or th?t 
 creaking shutter. The rny^sicn ^ttosted, not merely its owr. 
 but the decline cf its proprietor. A man of energy, character, 
 and due reflection, would i.ave found little difficulty in main 
 lining a resolute and successful defence against the bold as 
 sault of the tempest, or the insidious gnawings and sappings 
 of time. The present owner, unhappily, was not this sort of 
 man. He was prematurely old, as he had been constitution 
 ally timid ?-d habitually nervous. His life, so far, had passed 
 in a fevensh and trembling indecision, which defeated all 
 steady thought and prompt action. He was one of those who, 
 having the essentials of manhood, has yet always been a child 
 Ke had tottered through life with no confidence in his arms 
 
I INEY GROVE. 65 
 
 and as if his legs had been crutches, borrowed from a neigh* 
 boring tree, rather than limbs of a native growth, and dtrtined 
 to the performance of his will. Gladly, at all times, would he 
 prefer to lean upon the shoulders of his neighbor rather than 
 trust independently to his own thews and smews. In politics 
 IIP. could be none other than the truckler Lo the existing au 
 thority, having preferences, however, which h3 dared not speak, 
 vacillating between extremes, temporizing vith every party, 
 yet buffeted by all. 
 
 The appearance of ins troop brought the old gentleman 
 down his steps to lecciva them Barslicld only advanced, 
 leaving Clayton to quarter tho tro^p on the edge and within 
 the enclosure of tr-.e p&rk. M;:. Berkeley s manner was cour 
 teous and cordial eriO a^Ii, but marked by trepidation. His 
 welcome, however, Tras "anco aotrained, and seemed habitual. 
 Like the major jrarl of the class or wliicli !ie was a member, 
 the duties of hospitality nev3r B offa.sd nsgisct at his hands. 
 Like them, he delighted i.?. society, and was at all times 
 ready and pleased at the appearance of a guest. Nor did the 
 perilous nature of events at the period of which we write, his 
 own timidity, and the doubtful character of the new-comer, 
 tend, in any great degree, to chill the freedom and check the 
 tendency of his habit in- this respect. Accustomed always to 
 wealth and influence, to the familiar association with strangers, 
 and to a free intercourse with a once thickly-settled and pleaa- 
 ant neighborhood, a frank, open-hearted demeanor became as 
 much his characteristic as his jealous apprehensions. This was 
 also his misfortune, since, without doubt, it increased the natu 
 ral dependence of his mind. The habit of giving a due con 
 sideration to the claims of others, though a good one, doubtless, 
 has yet its limits, which to pass, though for a moment only, is 
 to stimulate injustice, and to encourage the growth of a tyranny 
 to our own injury. In his connection with those around him, 
 and at the period of which we write, when laws we^, nominal, 
 and were administered only at the caprice of power, the virtue 
 of Mr. Berkeley became a weakness ; and he was accordingly 
 preyed upon by the profligate, and defied by the daring 
 compelled to be silent under wrong, or, if he resented it, only 
 
<0"6 MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 provoking thereby its frequent repetition. His mild bluo eye 
 spoke bis feelings ; his nervousness amply announced his own 
 consciousness of imbecility ; while his pale cheek and prema 
 turely white hair told of afflictions deeply felt, and of vexing 
 and frequent strii cs injuries, and discontent. 
 
 On the present occasion he received his guest with a kindly 
 air of welcome, whhh was most probably sincere. Ho was 
 quite too fecbld not to be glad of the presence of those who 
 could afford him protection ; and there was no little truth in 
 the boast of the tory captain *o his companion, when he said 
 that the timidity of Berkeley would be one of the probable 
 influences which might facilitate his prograes in the courtship 
 o.C his daughter. The, manner of Barsfield was influenced 
 somewhat by his knowledge of the weakness of Mr. Berkeley, 
 not less than by Lis own habitual audacity. He met the old 
 gentleman with r.r air of ancient intimacy, grasped the prof 
 fered hand with a in arty and confident action, and, in tones 
 rather louder than ordinary, congratulated him upon his health 
 and good looks. 
 
 " I have not waited, you see, Mr. Berkeley, for an invita 
 tion. I have ridden in and taken possession without a word, 
 as if I was perfectly assured that no visitor could be more cer 
 tainly welcome to a good loyalist like yourself, than one who 
 was in arms for his majesty." 
 
 "None, sir none, Captain Barsfield you do me nothing 
 more than justice. You are welcome his majesty s officers 
 and troops are always welcome to my poor dwelling," was the 
 reply of the old man, uttered, without restraint, and seemingly 
 with cordiality; and yet, a close observer might have seen 
 that there was an air of abstraction indicative of a wandering 
 and dissatisfied mood, in the disturbed and changing expres 
 sion of his features. A. few moments elapsed, which they em 
 ployed in mutual inquiries, when Lieutenant Clayton, having 
 bestowed his men, their baggage, and wagons, agreeably to the 
 directions given him, now joined them upon the steps of the 
 dwelling, and was introduced by Barsfield, in character, to his 
 host. Clayton reported to his captain what he had done with 
 the troop, their disposition, and the general plan of theii 
 
PINKY GROVE. 67 
 
 arrangement, in obedience lo orders ; turning to Mr. Berkeley 
 at the conclusion, and politely apologizing for the unavoidable 
 disturbance which such an arrangement must necessarily oc 
 casion in his grounds. The old man smiled faintly, and mur 
 mured out words of approbation; but, though lie strove to be 
 and to appear satisfied, lie was evidently ill at ease. The in 
 vasion of his beautiful park by a prancing and wheeling troop 
 oi" horse its quiet broken by tho oaths, the clamor, and the 
 confusion common to turbulent soldiers, and the utter disper 
 sion of his fine young horses, which had leaped the barrier in 
 their fright, and were now flying in all directions over the 
 plantation, brought to his bosom no small pang, as they spoke 
 strongly for the extent of his submission. He controlled hie 
 dissatisfaction, however, as well as he could, and now urged 
 his guests, with frequent entreaties, to enter his mansion for 
 refreshment. They followed him from the piazza into a large 
 hall, such as might have answered the purposes of a room of 
 state, calculated for the deliberations of a thousand men. It 
 was thus that our ancestors built, as ]t were, with a standard 
 drawn from the spacious wilds and \v 3ods around them. They 
 seemed also to have built for posterity. Huge beams, unen 
 closed, ran along above, supporting the upper chambers, which 
 were huge enough to sustain the weight of a palace. TLo 
 walls were covered with the dark and duiable cypress, wrought 
 in panels, which gave a rich, artist-like air to the apartment. 
 Two huge fireplaces at opposite ends of the hall attested its 
 great size, in one of which, even in the month cf September, a 
 few broken brands might be seen still burning upon the hearth. 
 A dozen faded family pictures, in massive black frames, hung 
 around quaint, rigid, puritanical faces, seemingly cut out of 
 board, after the fashion of Sir Peter Lely, with glaring Flem 
 ish drapery, and that vulgar style of coloring which makes of 
 red and yellow primary principles, from the contagion of which 
 neither land, sea, HOT sky, is suffered in any climate to be prop 
 erly exempt, The furniture was heavy and massive like the 
 rest T suitable to the apartment, and solid, like the dwellings 
 and desires of the people of the bygone days. 
 
 Seats were drawn, the troopers at ease, and the good old 
 
68 MKLLIClIAMi K 
 
 Madoiia of the planter soon made its appearance, to which 
 they did ample justice. The generous liquor soon produced 
 freedom of discourse ; and, after a few courteous and usual 
 overtures, consisting of mutual inquiries after the health of the 
 several parties present, their relations, friends, and so forth, 
 the conversation grew more general, and, perhaps, more impor 
 tant, as it touched upon the condition of the country. 
 
 " You have quiet now, Mr. Perkeley," said Barsfield. " The 
 rousing defeats which the rehels have recently sustained have 
 pretty well done them up on every side. The game is very 
 nigh over, and we shall soon have little else to do than gather 
 up the winnings. The drubbing which Cornwallis gave that 
 conceited fellow, Gates, and the surprise of Sumter, both events 
 so complete and conclusive, will go very far toward bringing 
 the country back to its loyalty." 
 
 " God i*ant it, sir," was the ardent response of Mr. Berke 
 ley, " for we shall then have peace. These have been four 
 miserable years to the country, since the beginning of this 
 war. Neighbor again?":, reighbor, friend against friend, and 
 sometimes even brother arming and going out to battle with 
 his brother. It has bssn an awful time, and Heaven grant, sir, 
 it may bo as you say. Heaven restore us the quiet and the 
 peace which have been for so long strangers in the land." 
 
 You shall have it, sir, I promise you, after this ; though 1 
 should think, by this time, you have been perfectly freed from 
 (.iio incursions of that skulking fellow, Marion. The report is 
 that he has disbanded his men, and has fled into North Caro 
 lina. If so, I shall have !it f .le use for mine ; and these arms 
 which I have brought for distribution among your loyal neigh 
 bors, will scarcely be necessary to them. IIa,ve you any in 
 telligence on this subject, Mr. Berkeley ?" 
 
 "No, sir no ? none ! I am not in the way, Captain Bars- 
 field, of hearing intelligence of this nature. I know nothing 
 of the movements of either party." 
 
 This reply was uttered with some little trepidation ; nnd, 
 as the old gentleman spoke, he looked apprehensively around 
 the apartment, as if he dreaded to see the redoubtable " swamp 
 fox" and all his crew, " Roaring Dick," " Thumbscrew," and 
 
PINEY GROVE. 
 
 the rest, fast gathering at his elbow. Barsfield smiled at 
 movement, and crossing one leg over another, and slapping 
 his thigh with an air of unmitigated self-complaisance as lie 
 spoke, he thus replied, rather to the look and manner than 
 the language of his host : 
 
 " Well, sir, I hope soon to rid you of any apprehensions on 
 the subject of that marauding rebel. I am about to become 
 your near neighbor, Mr. Berkeley." 
 
 The old gentleman bowed in token of his satisfaction at the 
 intelligence. Barsfield continued 
 
 " You have heard; doubtlessly, that I am now the proprietor 
 of th,T ne-bl", estate of Kaddipah, formerly the seat of Max 
 Melhchampe, and confiscated to h. ; s majesty s uses on account 
 of that arch-traitor s defection. Having had the good fortune 
 to slay tli3 rebel witli my own hand his majesty has been 
 pleased to bestow upon ine the estate which he so justly for 
 feited." 
 
 There was some emotion of an equivocal sort visible in the 
 countenance of Berkeley, as he listened to this communication. 
 A shade of melancholy overspread his face, as if some painful 
 memory had suddenly grown active ; and a slight suffusion of 
 his eyelashes was not entirely undistinguished by his guests. 
 Struggling with his feelings, however, whatever may have 
 been their source, the old man recovered himself sufficiently 
 to reply, though in a thick voice, which left his language but 
 half intelligible. 
 
 "Yes yes, sir I did hear I m glad, sir I shall he 
 happy " 
 
 And here he paused in the imperfect speech which Barsfield 
 did not leave him time to finish. 
 
 " There will be nothing then, sir, that any of us will have 
 to fear from these outliers in the swamps ; when that takes 
 place, Kaddipah, sir, so long as the war continues, will be 
 a place of defence, sufficiently well-guarded as a post to resist 
 ctny present force of Marion ; and, as I shall have charge of it, 
 I think it safe to say, from what they know of me, they will 
 not often venture even within scouting distance. Talking of 
 scouts, now, Clayton, where s the fellow we picked up to-day. 
 
70 MELLICUAMl K. 
 
 having a pass from Proctor? He looks as if he would make 
 an admirable one. If his eyes only see as far as they seem 
 willing to go, he is certainly a very valuable acquisition. 
 
 A distinct hem from another quarter of the hall attracted 
 all eyes in that direction, and there, squat upon the hearth of 
 one of the fireplaces, sat the form of Blonay. He had piled 
 the dismembered brands together, and sat enjoying the fire, 
 unperceived and certainly uncnvied. At wl.at time he had 
 so secretly effected his entrance, was utterly luikrown to any 
 of the party. Barsfield started as n 3 beheld Liim, and, seeming 
 to forget his host, hastily addressed Lim : - 
 
 " Why, how now, fellov? ? you Q.isra to make yorrself at 
 home. Why are you here ;-/i y did you not remain with the 
 troop ?" 
 
 "Why, caine I an t jno fclem. y~ r-ce, cappin, and they 
 all pokes fun at inc." 
 
 The simplicity of this repl;- .iis irmed Baisfiald of IUB anger, 
 and his presence gave him a n<.-.w subject upon which to enjoy 
 himself. The half-breed \vfis now made to undergo auolhor 
 examination, conducted by both the officers, \vhomingled freely 
 with their inquiries sundry poor jests at his infirmity, all of 
 which fell upon the seemingly sterile sense of the subject as 
 if he had been so much marble. While thus engaged an inner 
 door was thrown open, and the guests started involuntarily tc 
 their foet. 
 
 " My daughter, gentlemen, Miss Berkeley my niece, Miss 
 Duncan," were the words of the old man, uttered with an air 
 of greater elevation than was his wont. The two ladies were 
 provided with seats, and in the moment ray silence which fol 
 lowed their first appearance, we may be permitted to take a 
 passing glance at their persons. Our opinions raay well ha 
 reserved for another chapter. 
 
JANET BERKELEY. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JANET IIEIIKELEY. 
 
 THE appearance of Janet Berkeley fully justified the high 
 encomium which Barsfield had passed upon her beauties ; yet 
 nothing could he more unassuming than her deportment 
 nothing more unimposing than her entire carriage. A quiet 
 case, a natural and seemingly effortless movement, placed her 
 before you, and, like all perfect things, her loveliness was to he 
 studied before it could be perceived. It did not affront you 
 by an obtrusion of anything remarkable. Her features were 
 all too much in unison with one another too symmet 
 rically unique, to strike abruptly; they seemed rather to 
 fill and to absorb the mind of the spectator than to strike 
 his eye. 
 
 Her person was rather small and slender : her features, 
 though marked by health, were all soft and delicate. A pale, 
 high forehead, from beneath which a pair of large black eyes 
 Hashed out a subdued, dewy, but rich, transparent light a 
 nose finely Grecian cheeks rather too pale, perhaps, for ex 
 pression and a mouth which was sweetly small and deli 
 cately full were the distinguishing features of her face. 
 Her chin, though not prominent, did not retreat ; and her neck 
 was white and smoothly round, as if a nice artist had spent a 
 life in working it to perfection. Her hair, which was long and 
 dark, was gathered up and secured by a white fillet, without 
 study, yet with a disposition of grace that seemed to denote 
 the highest efforts of study. It was the art which concealed 
 the art the fine taste of the woman naturally employed in 
 adorning the loveliest object in creation herself. It was 
 the fashion of the time to pile the hair in successive, layers 
 
72 MKJ.LICBAMrE. 
 
 upon the crown, until it rose into a huge tower, Babel-liko 
 and toppling. Janet was superior to any such sacrifice of good 
 sense and good taste, simply in compliance with a vulgar rage. 
 Her long tresses, simply secured from annoyance, were left 
 free to wander where they would about her neck, to the marble 
 whiteness of which they proved an admirable foil ; while the 
 volume was so distributed about the head as to prevent that 
 uncouth exhibition of its bulk in one quarter, which is too 
 much the sin of taste in the sex generally. So admirably 
 did the features, the dress, and the deportment, of Janet 
 Berkeley blend in their proper effects together, that the dullest 
 sense must have felt their united force, even though the eye 
 might not have paused to dwell upon any one individual 
 beauty. Her carriage denoted a consciousness of her own 
 strength, which spoke forcibly in contrast with the equally 
 obvious feebleness of her father s spirit. Perhaps, indeed, it 
 was the imbecility and weakness of his which had given 
 strength and character to liters. It is not uncommon for the 
 good natural mind to exercise itself in those attributes which, 
 in others, they perceive inactive and wanting to their owners. 
 She had seen too many evil results from her father s indecision 
 and imbecility, not to strive sternly in the attainment of the 
 faculty in which he was so lamentably deficient; and she had 
 not striven in vain. Though yet unenforced to open exercise 
 and exhibition of its strength by controlling and overcoming 
 dangers, the heart of Janet Berkeley was strong in her, and 
 would not have been unprepared for their encounter. Her 
 untroubled composure of glance, her equanimity of manner, 
 her unshrinking address, and the singular ease with which, 
 without tremor or hesitation, her parting lips gave way to the 
 utterance of the language she might deem necessary tc the 
 occasion were all so many proofs of that strength of soul 
 which, associated as it was with all the grace and suscepti 
 bility of woman, made her a creature of moral, not less than 
 of physical symmetry the very ideal of a just conception 
 of the noblest nature and the gentlest sex. The deportment 
 of Mr. Berkeley was unconsciously elevated as ho surveyed 
 hers : such is the influence of the pure heart and perfect char- 
 
JANET BERKELEY. 73 
 
 acter. His pride grew lifted in the contemplation ; and, timid 
 and tame, and without a manly spirit, as he was, he felt that 
 he could willingly die to serve and to preserve her. 
 
 " She is indeed a jewel, Barsfield !" said Clayton, in a whis 
 per, aside to his superior; "she is a jewel you are a lucky 
 man." 
 
 "A goddess!" was the quick reply, in similar tones "a 
 goddess! she will make Kaddipah a very heaven in my 
 sight," _ 
 
 " Let it be a Christian heaven, then, 1 pray you, by dropping 
 that abominable heathen name." 
 
 The other maiden, whom we have seen introduced as Miss 
 Duncan, was an orphan, a niece of Mr. Berkeley, and for the 
 present, residing with her cousin. She was pretty, and her 
 eyes danced with a lively pl<iy of light, that spoke a gay 
 heart and cloudless disposition. Perhaps, at the first glance, 
 she would have been found more imposing than Janet ; there 
 was more to strike the eye in her features and deportment, as 
 there was more inequality more that was irregular none 
 of that perfect symmetry, which so harmonizes with the ob 
 server s glance and spirit, as not often to arrest, at first, his 
 particular attention. A study of her face, however, would 
 soon disenthral, though it would not offend, the observer. It 
 wanted depth profundity character. At a glance you 
 beheld its resources. There was nothing more to see; and 
 you would turn away to her more quiet companion, and find at 
 every look, in every passing shade of expression, every tran 
 sition of mood, that there was more hidden than revealed 
 that the casket was rich within that there was a treasure and 
 a mystery, though it might demand a power of the purest and 
 the highest to unlock its spells, and to remove the sacred seal 
 that was upon it. 
 
 A few moments had elapsed after the entrance of the ladies, 
 when a servant announced the supper to be in readiness, after 
 the wholesome fashion of the country. A table was spread in 
 an adjoining apartment, and now awaited the guests. Barsfield 
 wouli have offered his arm to Janet, but she had already pos 
 sessed herself of her father s. Lieutenant Clayton had already 
 
74: MKLLlCHAMi K. 
 
 secured the company of Miss Duncan ; and they were soon 
 seated round the hospitable board. But where was Blonay 
 the despised the deformed the desolate? Miss Berkeley, 
 presiding at the head of the table, remarked his absence, and 
 her eye at once addressed her father. 
 
 " The other gentleman, father ?" she said inquiringly. 
 
 u Gentleman, indeed !" was the exclamation of Barsfield, ac 
 companied by a rude laugh, which was slightly echoed by his 
 companions ; " Gentleman, indeed ! give yourself no manner of 
 concern on his account, Miss Berkeley. He is some miserable 
 overseer a sand-lapper from Goose Creek, of whom we know 
 nothing, except that Proctor, the commandant at Dorchester, 
 has thought proper to give him a passport to go where he 
 pleases. " 
 
 "Tie is my father s guest, sir," was the dignified and rebu 
 king reply ; "and we can take no exception to his poverty, or 
 his occupation, or the place from which he comes. We have 
 not heretofore been accustomed to do so, and it would be far 
 less than good policy now, when the vicissitudes of the times 
 are such, that even a person such as you describe him to be 
 may become not only our neighbor but our superior, to-mor 
 row." 
 
 Mr. Berkeley started from his chair in some little confusion. 
 He felt the truth of what his daughter said, yet he saw that 
 her speech had touched Barsfield to the quick. The red spot 
 was on the cheek of the tory, and his lips quivered for an in 
 stant. 
 
 "Janet is right, Captain Barsfield ; the hospitality of Piney 
 Grove must not be impeached. Its doors must be open to the 
 poor as well as the rich ; we can not discriminate between 
 them :" and, so speaking, he hurried out to look after the half 
 i.rced. lie had not far to look. To the great surprise cf the 
 >ld man, he found Blonay a listener at the door of the apart 
 ment. He must have heard every syllable that had been 
 spoken. He had been practising after his Indian nature, and 
 was not sensible of any impropriety in the act. Revolting at 
 the task before him, Mr. Berkeley, with as good a grace as pos 
 sible, invited the scout into the apartment an invitation 
 
JANET BERKELEY. 75 
 
 accepted without scruple, and as soon as given ; and lie sidled 
 into a seat, much to the annoyance of Barsfield, directly in 
 front of him. This little occurrence did not take place with 
 out greatly disquieting the host. He saw that Barsfield felt 
 the force of the sarcasm which his daughter had uttered, and 
 he strove, by the most unwearied attentions on his own part, 
 to do away with all unpleasant feelings on the part of the tory 
 captain. Janet, however, exhibited no manner of change in 
 her deportment. She did not seem conscious of any departure 
 from prudence, as she certainly had been guilty of no depar 
 ture from propriety ; but, when she saw the indefatigable and 
 humiliating industry, with which her father strove to conciliate 
 a man whom she had good reason to despise as well as hate, 
 the warm cokv stole into her cheeks with a flash-like indigna 
 tion, and her upper lip took its expression from the bitter scorn 
 in her bosom, and curled into very haughtiness as she surveyed 
 the scene. The expression passed away in an instant, how 
 ever ; and when, a little more composed himself, Barsfield 
 ventured to cast a sidelong glance at the maiden, and saw 
 how subdued, how gentle, how utterly wanting in malignity, 
 were her features, he dismissed from his mind the thought that 
 what she had said, so directly applying as it did to. himself 
 he having sprung from the dregs of the people, and such 
 having been his fortunes was intended for any such appli 
 cation. 
 
 The angry scowl with which the tory might have regarded 
 the maiden, was turned, however, upon the half-breed; who 
 as he beheld its threatening expression, would have been glad 
 to have taken to his heels, and to have hidden his disquiet in 
 the surrounding woods. But the kind look of Janet reassured 
 him, and he turned his frightful and blear eyes in no other 
 direction. His mind, probably for the first time, seemed to 
 take in a new sentiment of the loveliness of virtue. Though 
 blear-eyed, he was not blind ; and, as she did not seem to 
 behold his deformity, he was able to examine her beauty. In 
 morals, the German theory of the senses is more than half 
 right. The odor and the color are in us, rather than in the 
 objects of oui survey ; and yet, unless acted upon by external 
 
76 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 influences, the latent capacity might never expand into energy 
 and consciousness. To bring out this capacity is the office of 
 education, and this art had never so far acted upon the half- 
 breed, as to show him how much there was of a good nature 
 dormant, and silent, and mingled up with the evil within him 
 His education, in a leading respect, was yet to begin. 
 
OWLS ABEOAD. 77 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OWLS ABROAD. 
 
 LET us back to the woods and their wild inhabitants. We 
 have seen the success of the woodman in dissuading his young 
 companion from the idle and rash demonstration which he 
 sought to make upon the person of the tory captain. Prevent 
 ed from any attempt upon the life of Barsfield, Mellichampe 
 nevertheless determined upon watching his footsteps. In this 
 design he was readily seconded by Witherspoon. This, in 
 deed, was a duty with them both. They were then playing 
 the part of scouts to Marion. Taking their way on foot, 
 immediately after their enemies, they kept the cover of the 
 forest, with the caution of experienced wood men, venturing 
 only now and then upon the skirts of the road, in such conti 
 guity as to enable them to command a full view, for some dis 
 tance on either hand, of everything that took place upon it. 
 Familiar with the neighborhood, they availed themselves of 
 each by-way and foot-path to shorten the distance ; and thus, 
 gaining ground at every step, they were readily and soon ena 
 bled to come in sight of the persons they pursued. 
 
 The fierce spirit of the youthful Mellichampe could scarcely 
 be restrained by a wholesome prudence, while he saw, at mo 
 ments, through the leaves, the person of his enemy. It was 
 with no small increase of vexation, when they came in sight 
 of Piney Grove, that he saw the troop of the tory turning 
 into the avenue. Could he have listened to the dialogue be 
 tween the tory captain and his lieutenant at this time, his fury 
 would scarce have boon restrainable. It would have been 
 a far more difficult matter for his companion then to have 
 kept him iron his meditated rashness. A passing remark o/ 
 
i 1 MET.LICIIAMI E. 
 
 Thumbscrew, as the course of Barsfield grew obvious, seemed 
 to field new fuel to the fire already burning in his bosom. 
 
 "So ho! he s for Piney Grove to-night! Well, Airnest, 
 that knocks up your business. There s no gitting to see Miss 
 .Janet while Barefield s there, I reckon." 
 
 " And why not ?" was the fierce demand, " why not 1 I 
 Avill see her to-night, by Heaven, though I die for it ! I have 
 promised her, and God help me, as I shall keep that and every 
 promise that I have made, or shall ever make, to her! Do 
 y^n think, Thumbscrew, that I fear this scoundrel? Do you 
 th nk that I would not the rather go, if I thought that it was 
 possiiile to encounter him alone? I have prayed for such a 
 chance, and I would pray for it now, even were the odds more 
 numerously against me." 
 
 " Don t be rash, Airnest don t be headstrong and contrary, 
 boy. It ll be mighty ohwise and redic lous for you to go to 
 Piney Grove to-night, though you did make a promise: there s 
 no use for it, and it s like going into the lion s den, as a body 
 may say. Barsfield, you may be sure, will put out his sentries; 
 and them tories, like the smallpox they have in Charleston 
 now, are mighty catching. You can t go there with any 
 chance of clearing the bush ; and if that chap gets you in 
 lis gripe, it ll go monstrous hard with you. He knows you ve 
 got no reason to love him; and he s hearn, long ago, how 
 you ve sworn agin him ; and he d like nothing better now. do 
 you see, than to set finger upon you. You can t think how 
 pleasant it would make him feel to put a grape-vine round 
 your neck : so you must keep quiet, and not think of seeing 
 Miss Janet to-night." 
 
 " But I must and will think of it. I will see her at every 
 hazard and you need say nothing more on the subject, Thumb 
 screw, unless you change very greatly the burden of what you 
 say. This caution caution caution nothing but caution 
 is the dullest music ; it sickens me to the soul. You are too 
 careful of me by half, Thumbscrew ; I can t move but yon 
 follow and counsel me striving to guard me against a thou 
 sand dangers and difficulties which nobody ever dreams of but 
 yourself." 
 
OWLS ABROAD. 79 
 
 4< That s because I loves you, Airnest, much better than 
 Anybody else, and much better, when the truth s spoken, than 
 you loves yourself," replied the woodman, affectionately put 
 ting his arms around the neck of his youthful companion: " I 
 loves you, Airnest, and I watches you like an old hen that s 
 got but one chicken left, and T clucks and scratches twice ir 
 much for that very reason. If there was a dozen to look after, 
 now, the case would he different ; I wouldn t make half the 
 fuss that I make about the one : but, you see.^hen it so 
 happens that the things a man s got to love gits fewer and 
 smaller, they gits more valuable, Airnest, in his sight ; for he 
 knows mighty well, if he loses them, that he s jist like an old 
 bird that comes back to the tree when the blossoms and the 
 flowers have all dropped off, and are rotting under it. It s 
 mighty nigh to winter in his heart then, Airnest mighty 
 nigh and the sooner he begins to look out for a place to sleep 
 in, the wiser man you may take him to tjej But, Airnest, taint 
 altogither that I loves you so that makes me agin your going 
 to-night to see the gal " 
 
 " Stop, Thumbscrew, if you please," were the words of inter 
 ruption sternly uttered by the youth ; " you will change you* 
 mode of speech in speaking of Miss Berkeley, and, when yc 
 refer to her in my hearing, you will please do so with becorr?. 
 ing respect." 
 
 " bwounds, Airnest, don t I respect her? Don t you know 
 that I respects her? Don t T love her, I ax you, a-most as 
 much as I loves you? and wouldn t I do anything for you 
 both, that wasn t a mean, cowardly thing? You know I 
 doesn t mean to be disrespectful in what I says consarning her; 
 and you mustn t talk so as if you thought 1 did. I says I m 
 agin your going to see her, or anybody at Piney Grove, not 
 because it s you that s going, but because I wouldn t have any 
 body go, that b longs to Marion s men, into the clutches of 
 them there thieves and murderers. It ll be as much as your 
 neck s worth to go there, for Barsfield is something of a soger ; 
 and will be sure to put out scouts and sentries all round the 
 house. If he don t he s no better than a nigger, and desarves 
 to be cashiered." 
 
80 MELLICIIA.MPE. 
 
 " Danger or no danger, Thumbscrew, I ll go to Piney Grove 
 tliis night, as I have promised. You may spare yourself all 
 farther exhortation. I keep my word, though death be in the 
 way." 
 
 " Well, now, Airnest, that s what I call pervarsion and mere 
 foolishness. She won t look for you, Ainiest. She s a lady 
 of sense and understanding, and won t so much as dream to 
 see you after Barsfield s coming." 
 
 "Say no more," said the youth, decisively; "I will go. 
 Let us now return to our horses, and you can then go on to 
 Broom Hollow, where I ll meet you by midnight." 
 
 The youth turned away while speaking, and the woodman 
 followed him, though slowly, and with looks of deepest concern. 
 "You wants to see her, Airnest, that s it; it ain t so much 
 because you promised, as because you wants to keep your 
 promise. Ah, Airnest, this love in young people it ain t 
 sensible, and I say it ain t strong and lasting. No love is 
 strong and lasting if it ain t sensible. This what you has now 
 is only a sulky autumn fever, Airnest ; it ll burn like old ven 
 geance for a month or so, and everybody that don t know any 
 thing about it might reckon it hot enough to set the woods 
 -fire ; but it goes off monstrous quick after that, for you see 
 h burns Its substance all away, and then comes on the shaking 
 ague, and it sticks to you, God only knows, there s no telling 
 how long !" 
 
 The youth smiled, not less at the earnestness of his com 
 panion s manner, than at the grotcsqueness of his compari 
 sons, lie contented himself as they pursued their way back to 
 the cover which they T ^ad left, by insisting upon the superior 
 nature of his affecton to that which he had described. 
 
 " Not so with me, Thumbscrew ; I know myself too well ; 
 and, if I did not, I certainly know Janet too well ever to love 
 her less than now, unless some change of which I dream not, 
 and which I believe impossible some strange change shall 
 come over both of us. But no more of this ; let us see to our 
 horses, and with the dark you can go on to Broom Hollow, 
 where I will seek you as soon after I leave Piney Grove aa 
 I can." 
 
OWLS ABROAD. 81 
 
 The woodman shook his head and muttered to himself, with 
 an air not less of decision than of dissent. If his companion 
 was fixed in his determination, Thumbscrew was not less re 
 solved in his ; bit of this he said nothing. Quietly enough, 
 and with the composure and intimacy of two relying friends, 
 they sought out their retreat, behind which, some hundred 
 yards, a close bay gave shelter to their horses two noble 
 Animals, well caparisoned, which bounded away beneath them 
 with a free step and a graceful movement, though the dark 
 ness already covered the highway, making the path doubtful, 
 if not dangerous, in some places, to riders less experienced 
 and bold than themselves. They retraced the ground which 
 they had just left, and when they had reached the avenue 
 leading to " Piney Grove," they sunk into the contiguous 
 woods, and there Mellichampe, alighting, prepared himself for 
 that visit to his mistress from which his comrade had so earn 
 estly endeavored to dissuade him. Nor did he now forbear 
 his solicitations to the same effect. He urged his objections 
 more gently, yet with his former earnestness, only to meet 
 with same stern decision. 
 
 "Well, now, Airnest," said the faithful woodman, "sence 
 you re bent to go, like a wilful fox that s still got a tail worth 
 docking, suppose you let me go along with you ? You d bet 
 ter, now ; I can keep watch " 
 
 " Pshaw ! Thumbscrew, what nonsense ! I need no watch, 
 and certainly would not permit your presence at such a time. 
 You know I go to meet with a lady." 
 
 " 8 wounds, Airnest ! but she sha n t ces me." 
 
 " Why, man, of what do you speak ? Wonld you have me 
 guilty of a meanness, Thumbscrew ?" 
 
 " Dang it, Airnest !" I see it s no use to talk. You re on 
 your high horse to-day, and nobody can take you down. I ll 
 leave you; but, Airnest, boy, keep a bright look-out, and stick 
 to the bush close as a blind possum that s lame of a fore-paw. 
 You re going among sharp woodmen, them same tories; and 
 they ll give you a hard drive if they once sets foot on your 
 trail, When do you say you ll come?" 
 
82 MELIJCHAMI E. 
 
 "About midnight but don t wait for me. Go to sleep, <Ul 
 fellow, for I know you need it." 
 
 " Good-by, Airnest! God bless you!" 
 
 " Good-by." 
 
 "And, Airnest " 
 
 " What now, Thumby ?" 
 
 "Keep snug, that s all, and don t burn daylight; that s to 
 any, don t waste time. Good-by." 
 
 The youth, leaving his horse carefully concealed and fastftn- 
 ed in a well-chosen spot, hurriedly plunged forward, into the 
 woods with a precipitation seemingly intended to free him 
 from the anxieties of his companion, who watched his progress 
 for a few moments as he divided the bushes in his flight. 
 Thumbscrew looked after him with all the concern of a parent 
 in a time of trying emergency. He shook his head appre 
 hensively, as, leading his own steed forth toward the highway, 
 he seemed to prepare for his departure*!!! the direction assign 
 ed him. 
 
 He had scarcely reached the road, however, when the ap 
 proach of a driving horseman struck his senses and arrested 
 his progress. The scout drew back instantly into the co\ er 
 of tiie bush, and, placing himself in a position which would 
 enable him to retreat at advantage, should the horseman prove 
 other than he wished, he whistled thrice in a manner peculiar 
 to the men of Marion. He was instantly answered in the same 
 manner by the horseman who drew up his steed with the ex 
 change of signals. Thumbscrew at once emerged from the 
 copse, and was addressed by the stranger in a dialect adopted 
 among the partisans for greater security. Thumbscrew replied 
 by what would seem a question. 
 
 " Owls abroad ?" 
 
 " Owls at home !" was the immediate response of the stran 
 ger, by which the calling in of the scouts to the main body 
 wns at once signified to his comrade. He continued, as they 
 approached each other 
 
 "What owl hoots?" 
 
 "Thumbscrew," was the reply of Witherspoon, giving the 
 familiar name by which hi- companions generally knew him. 
 
OWLS ABROAD. 83 
 
 "All, Witlierspoon," said the other, who proved to be Hum 
 phries, " is that you ?" 
 
 "A piece of me I ain t altogether myself, seeing that I 
 ain t in a good humor quite." 
 
 " Well, stir up, for you re wanted. The boys have work on 
 hand, and the fox has got news of a tory gathering, so he s 
 gon to drinking vinegar, and that s sign enough to show us 
 that we must have a brush. Major Singleton has ordered in 
 our squad, and looks out for a squall. So there s news foi 
 you." 
 
 " I reckon I ve got quite as much, Humphries, to give you 
 back for it in return. What would you say, now, if I tell you 
 that Barsfield js here, within five hundred yards of us, with a 
 smart company of red-jackets, and two big wagons of baggage? 1 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " But I say yes !" and the scout then proceeded to inform 
 his comrade of those matters in reference to Barsfield s arrival 
 at Piney Grove with which the reader has already been made 
 acquainted. 
 
 Harnphries listened attentively, then exclaimed 
 
 " I see it, Thumby ; Barsfield is to meet these same tories, 
 ar.d probably take the lead of them. Wo heard from a boy 
 tl v< they wore to gather, but he could not say who was to com 
 rrjird em; and the general thought he could dash in among 
 en tei o.e trey could get arms and ammunition for a start 
 lU /ll have more work now than he thought for." 
 
 Well, avid where are you bent now, Humphries? a n t ya- 
 g!;ing back with this news, I tell you?" 
 
 Yes, to be sure ; but you must go in yourself at once, i 
 am pushing on for Davis, and Baxter, and little Gwinn : they 
 aie ail o it on your line. We want all the muzzles we cam 
 muster. Where s Mister Mellichainps ?" 
 
 The scout answered this question gloomily, as he told of the 
 adventurous movement of the youth in visiting the "Piney 
 Grove" while it was in the possession of the enemy, and of his 
 own urgent entreaties to prevent it. 
 
 " It s an ugly risk lie s taking," said Humphries; "but what 
 pan you do you can t help it now?" 
 
84- MKLLICITAMPE. 
 
 " Why, yes, I think I cau," said the other, quickly. " 1 
 can t find it in my heart to leave the boy in the hand of them 
 Philistines, and so, you see, Humphries, soon as I can hide my 
 horse in the hollow, I m going back after him. I won t let 
 him see me, for he s mighty ticklish and passionate, and may 
 get in a bad humor ; but I can keep close on his skirts, and 
 say nothing only, if harm comes, I can lend him a helping 
 hand, you see, when he don t look for it." 
 
 " Well, you ve little time, and, soon as you let him know 
 that he s wanted, you must both push off for the swamp. 
 There s a branch broke across the road at My Lady s Fancy 
 
 the butt-end points to the right track; and, on the same 
 line, after you get into the bush, you ll see another broken 
 branch just before you ; go to the bush-end, and keep ahead 
 
 that ll lead you down to the first sentry, and that s 
 M Donald, I think. But the two branches a n t thirty yards 
 from each other; so that, if the one in the road should be 
 changed by anybody, you ll only have to look round in the 
 woods till you find the other." 
 
 Having given these directions, he stooped and whispered 
 the camp password for the night in the ears of his attentive 
 comrade : 
 
 "Moultrie!" 
 
 Putting spurs to his steed, in another instant he had left the 
 place of conference far behind him. Thumbscrew, then, re 
 turning to the wood, carefully placed his horse in hiding, and 
 proceeded, according to the silent determination which he had 
 mrde, upon the path taken by his young companion. He was 
 soc n in the thicket adjoining the plantation, and resolute to do 
 liis best to save the youth, over whom he kept a watch so 
 pavernal, from any of the evil consequences which he feared 
 miht follow from his rashness. 
 
THUNDER IN A CLEAK SJiT. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THUNDER IN A CLEAR SKY. 
 
 AT the hospitable board of Mr. Berkeley, to which we now 
 return, the parties appear seated precisely as wo left them. 
 Their condition is not the same, however. They have done 
 full justice, during our absence, to the repast, and to their own 
 appetites, rendered more acute from their active travel of the 
 day. The first rude demands of hunger had been satisfied ; 
 the urgent business of the table was fairly over; and nothing 
 now remained to prevent the tory captain from playing the 
 double part of social guest and earnest lover. His position 
 might well have prompted him to an unwonted effort in the 
 presence of one whose favor he sought to win. Not so, how 
 ever. BarsfielcC though bold and insolent enough with a rude 
 troop and-in the forest, was yet abashed in the presence of the 
 beautiful and innocent Janet. He was one of those instances, 
 so frequently to be met with, of a man possessed of energies 
 of mind calculated to reach distinction, but wanting in that 
 delicacy of feeling and demeanor, the result only of polished 
 society, which alone can sustain him there unembarrassed and 
 at ease. Too harsh in his habits to conciliate without an 
 effort, he was, at the same time, too little familiar with the nice 
 delicacies and acute sensibilities of the female heart to maktf 
 the attempt with judgment; and we find him, accordingly, tl/e 
 well-dressed boor, in a strange circle, endeavoring to clisgufee 
 his OWP consciousness cr inadequacy by a dashing and forward 
 derjeamr, which had a?.l the aspect of impertinence. He 
 made sundry efforts to engage the maiden and her young com 
 panion in the toils of conversation, but proved far less suc 
 cessful than Ms second in command, who led the way in the 
 suggestion of topics, caught up the falling ends of chit-chat, 
 
.MKM.irilAMi K. 
 
 and, with all the adroitness of an old practitioner, knotted 
 tli cm together as fast as his superior, in his clumsy efforts to 
 do likewise, tore them asunder. 
 
 Clayton was a lively, brisk, ready youth, not over well- 
 in formed, but with just sufficient reading and experience to 
 v.-hile away a dull hour with a thoughtless maiden. Janet 
 heard him with respect, but said little. Rose Duncan, how 
 ever, had few restraints certainly none like those restraining 
 the former and she chatted on with as thoughtless a spirit as 
 if there had been no suffering in the-lancl. Barsfield envied 
 his lieutenant the immense gift of the gab which the latter 
 possessed, and his envy grew into a feeling of bitter mortifi 
 cation, when every effort of his own to engage Janet in dia 
 logue failed utterly, and, evidently, quite as often from his 
 own inefficiency, as from the maiden s reluctance, to maintain 
 it. A quiet " Yes" or " No" was the only response which she 
 appeared to find necessary in answer to all his suggestions ; 
 and these, too, were uttered so colclly and so calmly, as to dis 
 courage the otherwise sanguine tory in the hope that maiden 
 bashfulness alone, and not indifference, was the true cause of 
 her taciturnity. The old man, her father, as he saw the 
 anxiety of Barsfield to fix his daughter s attention, and, as he 
 hoped to conciliate one having a useful influence, strove to 
 second his efforts, by so directing the course of the conversa 
 tion as to bring out the resources of the maiden; but even 
 his efforts proved in a great degree unsuccessful. Her mind 
 seemed r.^t a hyuie in all the scene, and exhibited but little 
 sympathy with those around her. To those who looked close 
 ly, and could read, so mysterious a language as that of a young 
 maiden s eye, it might be seen that, in addition to her reluc- 
 trmce to converse with Barsfield, there was also a creeping fear 
 in her bosom, which chilled and fevered all its elasticity. As 
 the hour advanced, this feeling showed itself by occasional 
 unquiet movements of her eye, which glanced its sweet fires 
 fitfully around, as if in searching for some object which it yet 
 dreaded to encounter. 
 
 This state -of disquietude did not fail to strike the keen 
 watchfulness of Barsfield, whose own imperfect success only 
 
THUJSDEK, IN A CLKAK SKY. 87 
 
 made him the more jealously observant. Though unable to 
 win the heart of a fair lady, he was yet not altogether inca 
 pable of perceiving its movements; and he soon discovered 
 that, in addition to the dislike which Janet entertained for his 
 pretensions, there was. ground enough to imagine that she had 
 far less aversion to those of another. He watched her the 
 more closely from this reflection, and soon had assurance 
 doubly sure on the subject of his conjecture. 
 
 In the meanwhile the supper things had undergone removal; 
 the several persons of the party were dispersed about the room, 
 the two ladies occupying the sofa, at one arm of which, and 
 immediately beside Rose Duncan, sat Lieutenant Clayton, 
 bending forward, and exchanging with her a free supply of 
 chit-chat, sentimental and capricious. Barsfield, on the other 
 hand, addressed his regards only to Janet, who sat, statue-like 
 and pale, seemingly unmoved by all she heard, and with that 
 air of abstraction and anxiety which shows the thought to be 
 far distant. There was a dash of apprehension also in her air, 
 such as the young fawn, skirting the roadside for the first 
 time, might be supposed to exhibit, under the suggestion of its 
 own timid spirit, rather than of any real danger from the 
 approach of the hunter. This expression of countenance, how 
 ever the maiden might labor for its concealment, was yet 
 sufficiently evident to one so jealously aroused and suspicious 
 as the tory captain ; and he could not forbear, at length, as 
 he found that all other topics failed to bring about a regular 
 conversation with her, to insinuate his own doubts of that per 
 fect composure of her mind which, in reply to his inquiry, her 
 language had expressed, but which he did not think, at the 
 same time, that she really entertained. 
 
 " Something surely has occurred to. trouble you, Miss Berkeley 
 some unlucky disaster, no doubt] Your favorite nonpareil 
 has broken bonds, perhaps your mocking-bird has sung his 
 last song before strangling himself between his wires some 
 thing equally, if not more sad, has fastened itself upon your 
 spirits, and taken the wonted color from your cheeks. Let me 
 sympathize with you in your misfortune, I pray you; lot me 
 know the extent and the cause of your affliction." 
 
88 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 How bitterly ironical was the glance which accompanied 
 this speech. 
 
 " Rather say," replied the laughing Rose, quickly and 
 archly, as she btfheld the annoyance which the words of the 
 tory had brought to her cousin, " rather say that she dreads 
 some danger to her favorite that she has seen some threaten 
 ing hawk hovering over her dovecot, and dreads momently 
 that he will pounce upon the covey, and " 
 
 " Rose ! Rose Duncan !" hurriedly exclaimed Janet, with a 
 most appealing glance of her eye, for she knew the playful 
 character of her companion ; " No more of this, Rose, I beg 
 you. I am not in the humor for sport this evening. I beg 
 that you will desist. I am not well." 
 
 " Oh, if you beg so prettily, and so humbly too, I have done, 
 coz. I would not vex you for the world, particularly Avhen you 
 surrender so quietly at discretion. But, really, I have no 
 other way to revenge myself for the sarcasms I am made to 
 endure by Mr. Clayton ; he is ronlly so witty so very excru 
 ciating." 
 
 She turned, as she spokr, \, hli a full glance of her arch 
 blue eye upon Clayton, and with an expression of face so 
 comically sarcastic, that she even succeeded in diverting the 
 glance of Barsfield from the face of her cousin to that of his 
 lieutenant. Clayton laughed sillily in reply, and strove to 
 meet the sarcasm with as much good-nature as would disarm 
 it. He replied at the same time playfuly to Rose, and the 
 conversation went on between them. This little episode the 
 allusion of Rose, though innocently made on her part, was 
 calculated to increase as well the apprehensions of Janet, as 
 the suspicions of Barsfield ; and he determined not to yield the 
 point, but, if possible, pressing it still more home, to see if he 
 could not elicit some few more decided proofs of that disquiet 
 of the heart under which Janet so evidently labored. He was 
 not troubled with those gentlemanly scruples which should 
 have produced a pause, if not a direct arrest, of such a deter 
 mination. On the contrary, he knew of no principles but those 
 which were subservient to the selfish purposes of a coarse, un 
 polished soul. 
 
THUNPKR IN A OLKAIi SKY. 89 
 
 - This allegory of your fair friend, Miss Berkeley, would 
 scoin not altogether wanting in some direct application, if one 
 may judge from the degree of annoyance which it occasions 
 you. Is it true that some favorite dove is in danger does the 
 hawk really hang over head ; and am I to trace in the likeness 
 of the one, a wild rebel, an outlaw of the land some senti 
 mental robber of the swamp and, in the other, the vigilant 
 sentinel of an indulgent monarch, keeping watch over the fold 
 and protecting it against the excursive marauder? If so, it 
 which of these two shall I hold Miss Berkeley to be so greatly 
 interested ?" 
 
 Mr. Berkeley eagerly bent forward to hear the answer of his 
 daughter; and even Blonay, who had withdrawn himself 
 humbly into a corner of the room, seemed to comprehend some 
 thing of the matter in hand, and stretched out his long neck, 
 while his blear eyes peered into tho.se which the maiden now 
 iixed upon her questioner. 
 
 <( I am not good, sir, -at solving riddles," was her calm reply; 
 "and really can not undertake to say to what your present 
 remark should refer. Perhaps you arc right, however, in com 
 paring to the innocent bird, in danger from the lurking fowler, 
 the outlaw whom you call the rebel. The hawk, sir, stands 
 well enough for the pursuer. But, if these comparisons be true, 
 there is no danger to us, I assure you, as I myself believe, 
 even should the outlaw become the marauder." 
 
 And here she paused, and her eyes were withdrawn from 
 the person to whom she had spoken. The tory bit his lip ; 
 and, though he strove with that object, failed to suppress the 
 dissatisfaction which her speech had occasioned. Taking up 
 her reply, which had been evidently left unfinished, he pro 
 ceeded to carry out the sentence. 
 
 " But there is danger, you would say, from the latter. Let 
 me remove your fears, Miss Berkeley. The hawk will watch 
 over his charge without preying upon it, as you shall sec. I 
 am not unwilling to appear before you as one of the brood, and 
 you and yours shall be secure in the protection I shall bring 
 you against any lurking rebel in your swamps." 
 
 " I believe not that we have much to fear from that quarter. 
 
UU MKLLICIIAMPK. 
 
 Mr. Bnratn .ld, provided none but Marion s men get into them 
 They never trouble us." 
 
 " Ijut, my dear," said the old gentleman, " we are none the 
 less indebted to Captain Barsfield for his aid and assistance. 
 It is true, captain, we have not suffered much if any loss yet 
 from the people who are out; but times may change, captain, 
 and there s no knowing how soon your kind assistance may 
 be of the utmost importance. We should not be ungrateful, 
 Janet." 
 
 " I would not, father," responded the maiden, meekly ; 
 " Captain Barsfield has my thanks for the aid he has proffered 
 us, though I still think we shall not find it necessary. Our 
 home has always been a quiet one, and has been respected by 
 all parties. My father," and here she turned to Barsfield with 
 i. free and fearless glance, "My father is an invalid, and can 
 not take any part in the war which is going on; and while he 
 extends his hospitality to all, without distinction, he may well 
 hope to need little of the aid of either in defending him from 
 any. It is as little, under these circumstances, as we can 
 require, that our guests shall forbear the use of language which 
 might either give us pain, as it refers contemptuously or un 
 justly to our friends and those Avhom we esteem, or must in 
 volve us in the controversy which we should better avoid. 
 Captain Barsfield will forgive me if I am unwilling to listen to 
 the abuse of my countrymen." 
 
 The manner of the maiden was so dignified as to silence 
 farther controversy. Barsfield submitted with a very good 
 grace, though inwardly extremely chafed at the resolute and 
 unreserved manner in which she spoke of those whom he 
 had denounced as rebels, and to whose patriotic conduct his 
 own had been so unhappily opposed. He strove, however, not 
 merely to subdue his ill-humor, but to prove to her that it had 
 given way to better feelings; and, with a due increase of 
 courtesy, he arose, and would have conducted her to the fine 
 old harpsichord, which formed a most conspicuous article of 
 the household furniture in the apartment. She declined, how 
 ever, to perform, in spite of every compliment which he could 
 bestow upon her skill and voice, with both of which he ap 
 
TllL NhKi: IN A CLKAJi SKY. 
 
 peared to be familiar. Her father added liis solicitations also ; 
 but slie pleaded unpreparedness and her own indisposition 
 so firmly, that the demand was at length given up. The 
 lieutenant, however, was more successful with the inconsiderate 
 and laughing girl who sat beside him. She offered no scruples 
 said she loved to play and sing of all things in the world; 
 and, taking her seat in the midst of her own jest and laughter, 
 touched the keys with a free finger, that seemed perfectly at 
 home, while she sang the following little ditty, with a fins 
 p.lear voice which filled the apartment : 
 
 L 
 
 Though grief assail thee, young heart, 
 
 And doubt be there, 
 
 And stone-eyed care, 
 And sickness ail thee, young heart, 
 
 Love on love on. 
 
 IL 
 A greater anguish, young heart, 
 
 Than these can be, 
 
 Should love, in thee, 
 For ever languish, young heart! 
 
 Love on love on. 
 
 % 
 
 ra. 
 Life s choicest pleasure, young heart, 
 
 Can only wait 
 
 On her whose fate 
 Makes love her treasure, young heart 
 
 Love on love on. 
 
 And know that sorrow, young heart v 
 
 And wo, and strife, 
 
 Belong to life, 
 And are love s horror, young heart I - 
 
 Love on love on. 
 
 They fear his glances, young heart. 
 
 And fleet away 
 
 As night from day, 
 When he advances, young heart 
 
 Love on love on. 
 
MELL1CHAMPE. 
 
 VL 
 A happy comer, young heart, 
 
 Love s earliest bird 
 
 May now be heard, 
 With voice of summer, young heart ~ 
 
 Love on love on. 
 
 vn. 
 Around thee springing, young heart, 
 
 Bird, leaf, and flower, 
 
 That fill thy bower, 
 Are ever singing, young heart 
 
 Love on love on. 
 
 While the song of Rose was yet trilling in their ears, a faint 
 i ut distinct whistle penetrated the apartment. The quick and 
 jealous sense of Barsfield was the very first to hear it ; and, 
 from the corner where he sat crouching, the long neck of Bio- 
 nay might have been seen suddenly thrust out, as his head 
 leaned forward to listen. The eye of the tory captain invol 
 untarily turned upon the face of Janet Berkeley : a deeper 
 paleness had overshadowed it; and, though she did not, and 
 dared not, look in the direction of her observer, she well knew 
 that his gaze was fastened upon her, and this knowledge in 
 creased her confusion. The suspicions of Barsfield, always 
 active, were doubly aroused at the present moment, though, 
 with the policy of a practised soldier, he yet took especial care 
 to conceal them. 
 
 It was curious to look on the half-breed all the while. The 
 instinct of the scout had awakened into a degree of conscious 
 ness with that whittle, which all the sweet music of Rose Dun 
 can, to which he had been listening, could never have pro 
 voked. His thought was already in the woods; and, like some 
 keen hound, his mood began to grow impatient of restraint, and 
 to hunger R:?im tiie close chase an: llii bloody fray. The eye. 
 of Bkisfield, turning from the fa>3 j" t.ie maiden, was fixed 
 upon him, and, with his hani tin" caution, Blonay, as he saw 
 himself observed, drew in his h-iiul, which now rested with his 
 usual listnessness upon his shoulder, whils he seemed to lapse 
 away into his accustomed stupor 
 
THUNDER IN A CLEAR SKY. 93 
 
 The signal, if such it were, was again repeated, and closer 
 at band. A faint smile curled the lips of the toiy captain, and 
 his glance again settled upon the face of Janet. She strove 
 to encounter that glance of inquisitive insolence, but her heart 
 was too full of its fears. She could not her eye sank away 
 from the encounter, and the suspicions of the tory were con 
 firmed. 
 
 " There s a signal for somebody," was his careless remark. 
 
 "A signal!" exclaimed Clayton and Rose, in th-o same 
 breath. 
 
 " A signal !" said Mr. Berkeley, in alarm. 
 
 "Yes, a signal and the signal of one of Marion s men," 
 was the reply of Barsfield. " lie has strayed this time into 
 the wrong grounds, and will be laid by his heels if he heed 
 not his footsteps." 
 
 The hands of Janet were clasped involuntarily, and a prayer 
 ful thought was rapidly springing in her mind, while her heart 
 beat thick with its apprehensions. 
 
 "Why do you think it a signal of Marion s men, captain?" 
 was the inquiry of Clayton; "may it not be the whistle of 
 some idler among our own V 
 
 " No ; he might run some risk of a bullet if that were the 
 case. Our loyalists know these sounds too well not to prick 
 their ears when they hear them. That whistle is peculiar, and 
 not so easily imitated. There you hear it again! The 
 enemy is daring, if he be an enemy ; if a friend, he is not 
 less so." 
 
 " It may be one of the negroes," was the timidly-expressed 
 suggestion of Mr. Berkeley. 
 
 " Miss Berkeley will scarcely concur with you in that con 
 jecture," was the sarcastic response of Barsfield, while his eye 
 scrutinized closely and annoyingly the rapidly-changing color 
 upon her cheeks. As he gazed, her emotion grew almost in 
 supportable, and her anxiety became so intense as to be per 
 ceptible to all. Her eyes seemed not to regard the company, 
 but were fixed and wild in their frozen stare upon a distant 
 window of the apartment. That glance, so immoveable and 
 *o full of earnest terror, proved a guide to that of the tory 
 
94 MKLLICIIAMI K. 
 
 He read, in its intensity of gaze, a further solution of the mys 
 tery ; and, turning suddenly in the same direction, the secret 
 was revealed. The distant but distinct and well-known fea 
 tures of Ernest Mellichampe were clearly seen through the 
 pane, looking in over the head of Blonay, from the piazza to 
 which he had ascended. The movement of Barsfield was in 
 stantaneous. With a fierce oath he clashed from his seat, and, 
 seizing his sabre, which lay upon a neighboring table, rushed 
 toward the entrance. The movement of Janet Berkeley was 
 not less sudden. She darted with a wild cry, something be 
 tween a shriek and a prayer, and stood directly in his path 
 way her eye still iixed upon the window where her lover 
 stood her heart still pleading for his safety her arm uplifted 
 for his defence. 
 
 " Let me pass, Miss Berkeley !" were the hurried words and 
 stern demand of the tory. 
 
 "Never never I will perish first!" she exclaimed, inco 
 herently and unconsciously, in reply. 
 
 He extended his arm to put her aside, and by this time the 
 \vholc party had arisen from their seats, wondering at what 
 they saw. for they were ignorant of the knowledge possessed 
 by the tory. The father of the maiden would have interposed, 
 and Rose Duncan, surprised and terrified, also came forward ; 
 but Janet Berkeley heeded them not. Furious at the inter 
 ruption, Barsfield cried out to Clayton to pursue. 
 
 "The rebel Mellichampe!" was his cry; " he is in the pi 
 azza now ; he was but this instant at the window. Pursue 
 him with all the men cut him to pieces give him no quar 
 ter fly !" 
 
 The form of Janet filled the doorway : her arms were ex 
 tended. 
 
 "Mercy!" she cried; "mercy, mercy! Fly not pursue 
 him not: he is gone he is beyond your reach. Mercy 
 have mercy !" 
 
 They put her aside, and Barsfield hurried through the door. 
 She caught his arm with a nervous grasp, and clung to him in 
 the fervor of a desperation growing out of her accumulating 
 terrors. He broke- furiously away from lu-r hold, and she sank 
 
W 41 f?7/RAR SKY. 5 
 
 fainting and exhausted, bui still conscious of her lover s dan 
 ger, at full length along the floor. They were gone in the 
 pursuit, the tory captain and his lieutenant ; but Blonay, though 
 he had risen with the rest, still remained in the apartment. 
 The old father tottered to his daughter in consternation, and 
 strove, with the assistance of Rose, to lift her from the ground. 
 In his own rude way, and trembling, too, at the idea of his 
 near approach to one so super: o - *. Tonay proffered his assist 
 ance. 
 
 " The poor gal," he exclaimed m ;ri53 c:: unwonted pity, 
 while lifting her to the sofa " tin poo:^ ga] p she s main fright- 
 ered new, I tell you !" 
 
 "My child my ^hild ! speak A ,o ma> ray Janet! Look 
 npon n*e! it is year father, Janet Look up to me, my 
 G?,U-l:t^>!" 
 
 Bier eyes unclosed, and her lips wera &:. j?ed in correspondence 
 witJi the a^cciziug thoughts and apprehensions of her soul. 
 
 " Mellic is-i: pe rash, rasa Mailiscimpe ! Oh, father, they 
 will take they w : ll murder ;ir_ ! * 
 
 "Fear not, my child, fezi x ct, ; was the father s reply, his 
 own accents full of t bc.t ve*y i ? ear which he required that she 
 should not feel. " Fear nothing; this is my house these are 
 my grounds. They shall not no, my daughter, they dare 
 not touch a hair of the head of Mellichampe." 
 
 But the daughter knew better than her father his own weak 
 ness and the insecurity of her lover, and she shook her head 
 mournfully, though listening patiently to all his efforts at con- 
 Rolation. In that moment the father s love of his child grew 
 conspicuous. He hung over her, and sobbed freely like an 
 infant. He said a thousand soothing things in her ears ; pre 
 dicted a long life of happiness with her lover; strove to reas 
 sure her on every topic of their mutual apprehension ; and, on 
 his own tottering frame, with the assistance of Rose Duncan, 
 helped her to the chamber whose repose she seemed so impera 
 tively to require. 
 
H 
 
 WIVERS/TY 
 
 .. 
 
 JJi/Ai TKK XI. 
 
 THK mo vein -i t >. r-ai-sfield was almost as soon perceived 
 by MeJii"Uam*j3 <> it hac. been by Janet Berkeley, lie saw, 
 
 at a glance, the abrupt spring which the tu?y made frcm b\s 
 chair; and, conjecturing the cause of hi?? emotion, lie prepared 
 himself for flight. Though ra"sh in the extreme, he w<is not so 
 much of (he madman as to dare the contest with such a force 
 as Barsfield could bring ng.*inst him : yet lo&tli.wae l_e, indeed, 
 to fly before so hated an er.?,:ry. 
 
 " Oh, could we Ijut cross v. e-toons p.lorie hi that deep forest, 
 with no eye upon us but those I-.ss.ver..*y watchers, and the grim 
 spirits that lio\ ei around and exu.t \: the good stroke which 
 is struck for vengeance! Could we there meet, Bar sfi eld 
 but this hour 1 would ask nothing more from Heaven !" 
 
 This was the prayer of Mellichampe ; these were his words, 
 muttered through his clinched teeth, as, turning from the win 
 dow, lie placed his hands on the light- railing of the balcony, 
 and, heedless of the height something over fifteen feet 
 leaped, with a fearless, yet bitter heart, into the yard below. 
 
 He had come, agreeably to his appointment with the maiden, 
 and, as we have seen, in spite of all the solicitations of his 
 Iriend and comrade. He had uttered his accustomed signals 
 they had been, of necessity, disregarded. Vexed and fever 
 ish, his blood grew more phrensied at every moment which he 
 was compelled to wait ; and, at no time blessed with patience, he 
 had adopted the still more desperate resolution of penetrating 
 to the very dwelling which contained the maiden whom he 
 loved. What to him was the clanger from an enemy at such a 
 moment, and with feelings such as his / What were those 
 
SCIPIO. 97 
 
 feelings what the fears which possessed him ? Patient and 
 reckless, liis feelings and his thoughts did equal injustice to 
 her and to himself. 
 
 " She forgets she forswears me like all the rest. He seeks 
 her, perhaps, and she ha! what hope had the desperate and 
 the desolate ever yet from woman, when pomp and prosperity 
 approached as his rival ?" 
 
 lie little knew the maiden whom he so misjudged ; but it 
 was thus that he communed with his own bitter spirit, when 
 he made the rash determination to penetrate to the dwelling, 
 from the deep umbrageous garden in its rear, where, hitherto, 
 the lovers had been accustomed to meet, in as sweet a bower 
 as love could have chosen for a purpose so hallowed. 
 
 But, though rash almost to madness in coming to the dwell 
 ing, Mellichampe was not so heedless of his course as to forget 
 the earnest warnings which Witherspoon had given him. In 
 approaching the house he had taken the precaution to survey 
 all the premises beforehand. The grounds were all well known 
 to him, and he made a circuit around them, by which means 
 he discovered the manner in which the encampment of the 
 troop was made, and how, and where, the sentinels were post 
 ed. These he surveyed without exposure, and, though imme 
 diately contiguous on more than one occasion to the lounging 
 guard, he escaped without challenge or suspicion. From the 
 park he stole back into the garden. Emerging from its sliel- 
 er. ho advanced to the rear of the building, and, passing under 
 tVj piazza which encompassed it, he stole silently up the steps, 
 .-night the window, looked in upon the company, and was 
 compelled, as we have seen, to fly. 
 
 He was now in the court below ; and, as the bustle went on 
 above, he paused to listen and to meditate his course. Mean 
 while the alarm was sounded from the bugle of the troop. The 
 commotion of their movement distinctly reached his ears, and 
 he leaped off fleetly but composedly among the trees, which 
 concealed his flight toward the garden, just as the rush of 
 Barsfield and Clayton down the steps of the piazza warned 
 him of the necessity of farther precipitation. At that moment, 
 darting forward, he encountered the person of one who was 
 
98 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 advancing. He had drawn li is knife in the first mon . nt of 
 his flight, and, looking now only for enemies, it had nearly 
 found its sheath in the breast of the stranger, when the tones 
 of his voice arrested the fugitive. 
 
 "Ha, Mass Arnest, dat you? Lord a massy, you most 
 knock the brcat out my body." 
 
 " Silence, Scip not a word, villain. I am pursued by tho 
 tories. Would you betray me V were the hurried and em 
 phatic, but suppressed words of Mellichampe. 
 
 " Tray you, Mass Arnest how come you tink so? Enty 
 da Sip you truss Sip always, Mass Arnest truss em now," 
 was the prompt reply of the negro, uttered in tones similarly 
 low. 
 
 " I will, Scip I will trust you. Barsfield is upon me, and 
 I must gain the garden." 
 
 " No go dere. Tory sodger jist run long by the garden 
 fence." 
 
 " Where then, old fellow ?" 
 
 The negro paused for a moment, and the clattering of the 
 sabres was now heard distinctly. 
 
 " Drop, Mass Arnest, drop for dear life close behind dis 
 tree. Hug em close, I yerry dem coming." 
 
 " I have it," said the youth, coolly, to the bewildered negro, 
 as the sounds denoted the approach of the pursuers to thai- 
 quarter of the area in which this brief conference had been 
 carried on 
 
 " I have it, Scip. I will lie close to this fallen tree, and dc 
 you take to your heels in the direction of the woods. To th* 
 ight, Scip and let them see you as you run." 
 
 "How den, Mass Arnest wha de good ob dat?" 
 
 "Fly, fellow, they come to the right, to the right." 
 
 With the words Mellichampe threw himself prostrate, close 
 beside a huge tree that had been recently felled in the enclo 
 sure, while the faithful negro darted off without hesitation in 
 the direction which had been pointed out to him. In anothei 
 moment a body of the troopers was scattered around the tree. 
 Bounding over it in all directions. Barsfield led the pursuit, 
 nd animated it by his continual commands. The scene 
 
scirlo. 99 
 
 diversified by the rushing tumults and the wild cries of the 
 pursuers, and it was not many minutes before the chase was 
 encouraged by a glimpse which they caught of the flying 
 negro. At once all feet were turned in the one direction. 
 Soldier after soldier passed in emulous haste over the log 
 where Mellichampe lay, and, when the clamor had sunk away 
 in the dictance, he rose quietly, and coolly listening for a few 
 seconds to the distant uproar, he stole cautiously back into 
 the garden, in the crowded shrubbery and thick umbrage of 
 which he might have readily anticipated a tolerable conceal 
 ment while the night lasted from all the troop which Barsfield 
 could muster. Here he could distinguish the various sounds 
 and stages of the pursuit; now spreading far away to the fields 
 and on the borders of the park and now, as the adroit Scipio 
 doubled upon his pursuers, coming nigher to the original start 
 ing-place. But whether it was that Scip s heart failed him, 
 or his legs first, may not be said. It is enough to know that 
 he began to falter. His enemies gained ground rapidly upon 
 mm. He passed into a briar-copse, and lay close for a while, 
 though torn by their thorns at every forward movement, in the 
 hope*to gain a temporary rest from the pursuit ; but the chase 
 tracked him out, and its thick recesses gave him no shelter 
 The sabres were thrust into the copse in several places, and, 
 dreading their ungentle contact, the hunted negro once more 
 took to his heels. He dashed forward and made for a little 
 pine thicket that seemed to promise him a fair hope foi 
 concealment; but, when most sanguine, an obtrusive vine 
 zaught his uplifted foot as he sprang desperately forward, and, 
 w/r/ * neavy squelch that nearly too"k the breath out of Inn 
 b:dy, he lay prostrate at the mercy of his enemy. Barsfield 
 himself was upon him. With a fierce oath and a cry of tri 
 umph he shook his sabre over his head, and threatened instant 
 death to the supposed Mellichampe. The poor negro, though 
 not unwilling to risk his life for the youth, now thought it high 
 time to speak ; and, in real or affected terror, he cried aloud 
 in language not to be mistaken, 
 
 "Don t you chop a nigger with your sword now, I tell you- 
 
100 MKLLICIIAMPE. 
 
 Gor A mighty, Mass Cappin, you no guine kill a poor uigger 
 da s doing nothing at all /" 
 
 JBarsfield recoiled in astonishment, only to advance upon the 
 crouching black with redoubled fury ; and he might have used 
 the uplifted weapon simply from the chagrin and disappoint 
 ment, but that a stronger motive restrained him. With the 
 btrcngth and rage of a giant, he hurled the negro back to the 
 ground whence he had now half risen, and fiercely demand 
 ed of him why he had fled from the pursuit. 
 
 "Ki ! Mass Cappin, you ax a nigger wha for he run. when 
 you fuss run at em wid you big sword, and want to chop em 
 wid it. Da s nough to make a nigger run, I speck. No nig 
 ger nebber guine tand for dat." 
 
 " Scoundrel ! do not trifle with me," was the fierce reply 
 " You have seen young Mellichampe." 
 
 "Who dat Mass Arnest? No see em to-night Mass Cap- 
 pin." 
 
 " Scoundrel ! you are lying now. I know it. You have hid 
 den him away. Lead us to the spot, or put us upon his track 
 so that we find him, or, by the Eternal ! I swing you up to 
 these branches." 
 
 The negro solemnly declared his ignorance, but this did not 
 satisfy the tory. 
 
 " I3isper.se your men over the grounds the park the gar 
 den on all sides. The rebel must be hereabouts still. He 
 can not have gone far. Leave me but a couple of stout fellow 
 to manage this slave." 
 
 Clayton was about to go, when the words of Barsfield ui 
 tercd in a low, freezing Zone of determination, reached his ear. 
 
 " And, hear you, Clayton no quarter to the spy hiw hm- 
 icv/ii without a word." 
 
 The lieutenant departed, leaving the two men whom his 
 superior had required. One of those, in obedience to the com 
 mand of Barsfield, produced a stout cord, which was conve 
 niently at hand, from his pocket. 
 
 * Wha you guine do now, Mass Cappin ?" cried the negro, 
 beginning to be somewhat alarmed at the cold-blooded sort of 
 preparation which the soldier was making. 
 
SCIPIO. 101 
 
 " You shall see, you black rascal, soon enough," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "Noose it now, Drummond," was the order of the tory. 
 
 It was obeyed, and in another moment the cord encircled 
 the neck of the terrified Scipio. 
 
 " Confess now, sir confess all you have done all that you 
 know. Have you not seen the rebel to-night 1" 
 
 "Which one, Mass Cappm?" 
 
 " No fooling, fellow. You know well enough who I mean- 
 the rebel Mellichampe." 
 
 "Wha Mass Amest?" 
 
 " Ay." 
 
 " No, sa, Mass Gappin. It s trute wha I tell you now. 1 
 bery glad for see Mass Arnest, but I a n t seen em dis tree 
 day and seven week. He s gone, day say, high up the San- 
 tee, wib do rest." 
 
 " And you haven t seen him to-night 1" 
 
 "Da s a trute I no see m to-night." 
 
 "A d d lie, Scipio, which must be punished. Tuck him 
 
 up, Drummond." 
 
 " Hab a pity on poor nigger, Mass Cappin ! It s a nigger 
 is no wort salt to be hom ny. Hab a pity on poor nigger. Ah, 
 Mass Barsfield, you no guine hang Scip ? I make prayers for 
 you, Mass Barsfield, you no hang Scip dis time." 
 
 The negro implored earnestly as the design appeared more 
 determinately urged by the tory. He was seriously terrified 
 with the prospect before him, and his voice grew thick with 
 horror and increasing alarm. 
 
 " Confess, then, or, by God ! you swing on that tree. Tell 
 all that you know, for nothing else can save you." 
 
 I hab noting to tell, Mass Cappin. I berry good nigger, 
 da s honest, sa, more dan all <Je rest of massa s niggers, only I 
 will tief Bacon, Mass Cappin. I can t help tief bacon when I 
 git a chance, massa. Da s all la s agen Scip, Mass Cap- 
 pin." 
 
 There was so much of simplicity in Scipio s mode of defence, 
 that Barsfield half inclined to believe that he was really ignor 
 ant of the place of Mellichampc s concealment; but, as he 
 
102 MKJJ.ICl AMPK. 
 
 well knew that Scipio was a favorite family-servant, and re 
 markable for his fidelity, he did not doubt that he would keep 
 a secret concerning one so long intimate with it as Mellichampe 
 r<> tlie very last moment. This suggestion hastened his de 
 cision. With the utmost composure he bade the soldier exe 
 cute his office, and looked on calmly, and heard without heed 
 ing the many adjurations, and prayers, and protestations of 
 the negro, desperately urged, as they hurried him to the tree, 
 over a projecting limb of which one end of the rope was already 
 thrown. 
 
 " Will you tell now, Scipio?" demanded Barsfield of the 
 slave, in a tone of voice absolutely frightful to him from its 
 gentleness. "Tell me where Mellichampe ran tell where 
 you have concealed him, and I let you go ; but, if you do not, 
 you hang in a few moments on this very tree." 
 
 " I no see m, Mass Cappin he no run, he stan in de same 
 place. Hab a pity, Mass-Cappin, pon Scipio, da s a good nig 
 ger for old massa, and da s doing noting for harm anybody." 
 
 "Once more, Scipio where is the rebel? where is Melli 
 champe ?" 
 
 "Da trute, Mass Cappin, T don t know." 
 
 " Pull him up, men." 
 
 The cruel order was coolly given, and in tones that left no 
 room in the minds of the soldiers to doubt that they were to 
 execute the hurried sentence. Struggling, gasping, and labor 
 ing to speak, Scipio was lifted into air. He kicked desper 
 ately, sought to scream, and at length, as the agony of his 
 increasing suffocation grew more and more oppressive, and in 
 feeble and scarcely intelligible accents, he professed his wil 
 lingness now to do all that was required of him. 
 
 "I tell I tell ebbry ting, Mass Oappin cut de rope, da s 
 all. I tell cut em fass lose em quick. Oh he da mash 
 my head I choke." 
 
 The cord was relaxed with the utterance of this promise. 
 The victim was suffered to sink down upon the ground, where, 
 for a few momenta, he crouched, half sitting, half lying, almost 
 exhausted with struggling, and seemingly in a stupor from the 
 pain and fright he had undergone. But Barsfield did not mucb 
 
SCH IO. 108 
 
 regard his sufferings. He took the negro at his word, and, 
 impatient for his own revenge, hurried the movements of the 
 poor creature. The rope was still twined about his neck, and 
 thus, kept in continual fear of the doom which had heen only 
 suspended, he was required to lead the way, and put the pur 
 suers upon the lost trail of the fugitive. 
 
104 MELLICCAICTB. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 THE TRAIL LOST. 
 
 " COME, dr away put us on the track of the rebel. Show 
 where he is hidden and, hark you, Scipio not a word 
 no noise to tell him we are coming, or " 
 
 The threat was left unfinished, hut it was neveitheless suf 
 ficiently well understood. The reply of the negro was char 
 acteristic. 
 
 " Gor A mighty, Mass Barsfield, enty I guine? You no 
 casion push a nigger so. Ef you was to hang mo up agen, I 
 couldn t go no more faster dan I does." 
 
 Ho led the way freely enough ; but it was not the intention 
 of Scipio to betray the trust of Mcllichampe, even if it had 
 been in his power to lead them to the place of his concealment. 
 His object was simply to escape a present difficulty. He had 
 no thought beyond the moment. With this object, with the 
 natural cunning of the negro, and the integrity of the faithful 
 slave, he framed in his mind a plan of search, which, while it 
 should be urged on his part with all the earnestness of truth, 
 should yet still more effectually mislead the pursuers. Scipio 
 was one of those trusty slaves to be found in almost every na 
 tive southern family, who, having grown up with the child; en 
 of their owners, have acquired a certain correspondence of feel 
 ing with them. A personal attachment had strengthened the 
 bonds which necessity imposed, and it was quite as much ^ 
 principle in Scipio s mind to fight and die for his owners, as to 
 work for them. Regarding his young mistress with a most un 
 varying devotion, he had been made acquainted at an early 
 period with the nature of the tie which existed between her 
 self and Mellichainpe, and many were the billets and 
 
THE TKAIL LOST. 105 
 
 of love wliich had been confided by the tv/o to fecipio, during 
 the unsophisticated courtship wliich had bean carried on be 
 twecn them. Proud of the confidence reposed in him, and fond 
 of the parties, the trust of Mellichampe was sacred in his keep 
 ing ; and, at the moment of his greatest danger, when the rope 
 was about his neck, and his life depended upon one whom ho 
 well knew to be merciless and unforgiving, he never once con 
 ceived the idea of effecting his escape by a revelation of 
 any secret which might have compromised, in the slightest 
 degree, either Mellichampe or the maiden. He now purposely 
 led the tory from his object, trusting to his good fortune or his 
 wit to relieve him from all subsequent emergencies. 
 
 It does not need that we should show how, in the prosecu 
 tion of his scheme, the adroit negro contrived to baffle the vin 
 dictive Barsfield. lie led him from place to place, to and fro, 
 uo\v here, now there, and through every little turn and wind 
 ing of the enclosure in front of the dwelling, until the patience 
 of the tory became exhausted, and he clearly saw that his 
 guide had deceived him. For a moment his anger prompted 
 him to prosecute the punishment with which he had sought at 
 first to intimidate the negro. But a fear of the influence of 
 such a proceeding upon the maiden induced a more gentle de 
 termination. 
 
 It was not, probably, the intention of Barsfield to carry 
 into .effect the threatened doom his design was rather to pro 
 cure the required intelligence by extorting a confession. He 
 was now persuaded, so well had Scipio played his part, that 
 the fellow was really ignorant. Finding that his long pas 
 sages invariably led to nothing, he dismissed him with a hearty 
 curse and kick, and hurried away to join Clayton, who, mean 
 while, had been busied in the examination of the garden. The 
 lieutenant had not been a whit more successful than his cap 
 tain ; for Mellichampe, the moment that he heard the pursuit 
 tending in the quarter where he had concealed himself, simply 
 moved away from his lair, and, leaping the little rail fence, 
 which divided the garden from the forest, found himself 
 almost immediately in the shelter of a dense body of woods, 
 which would have called for five times the force of Bavsfi^ld tc 
 
MKLUCIIA.Ml K. 
 
 ferret him out in at night. Familiar of old with the region, 
 which had been consecrated in "the walks and worship of love, 
 he strolled off to a favorite tree, not thirty yards from the 
 fence, in an arm of which, sheltering himself snugly, he lis 
 tened with scornful indifference to the clamors of that hot pur 
 suit which the tory still continued. He saAv the torches bla 
 zing in the groves where he had crouched but a little while 
 before, and almost fancied that he could distinguish at mtei<- 
 vals the features of those who bore them, and sometimes even 
 the lineaments of that one deadliest enemy, whom of all the 
 world he most desired on equal terms to encounter. 
 
 The _chase was at length given over. Barsfield was too 
 good a scout himself not to know that the woods in the rear 
 of the garden must contain the fugitive. He was quite too 
 familiar, however, with the nature of a Carolina thicket to 
 hope for any successful result of pursuit and search in that 
 quarter. And yet he still looked with straining eyes upon its 
 dense and gloomy spots, as if longing to penetrate them. Had 
 he been strong enough in men could he even have spared 
 the force which he had under his command for any such pur 
 pose, he would not have hesitated for an instant ; but, tinder 
 existing circumstances, the risk would have been rash and 
 foolish, to have exposed so small a body of men to the possi 
 bility of contact with a lurking enemy. He little knew that 
 the particular foe was alone and that, even at the moment 
 when these meditations were passing through his mind, his 
 hated rival sat looking composedly down upon the unavailing 
 toil of his long pursuit, How many circumstances were there 
 in his past history to make him detest the fugitive ! How 
 many interests and feelings, active at the moment in his bosom, 
 to make him doubly desire to rid himself of one so inimical 
 M> greatly in his way ! He turned from the garden in a bitter 
 mood of disappointment. The fever of a vexing fear and of a 
 sleepless discontent was goading him with every additional 
 moment of thought, and kept him from all appreciation of the 
 beauty of the rich flowers and those sweet walks which, in the 
 intercourse of Mellichampe and Janet, had made a fitly associ 
 ated scene. He felt \othing of the garden s beauties its 
 
TI1K TRAIL LOST. 107 
 
 sweet solemnity of shade its refreshing fragrance --its slen 
 der branches and twining shrnbs, that quivered and mur 
 mured in the night breeze; or of that exquisite Art in the dis 
 position of its groves and flowers, which, concealing herself in 
 their clustering folds, peeps out only here and there, as if in 
 childlike and innocent sport with her sister Nature. 
 
 Having made his .camp arrangements for the night. Barsfield 
 Ijft Clayton in command of the troop, still occupying the park 
 as at their coming, and proceeded once more to the dwelling. 
 Mr. Berkeley awaited his approach at the entrance. The old 
 gentleman was in no little tribulation. The presence of Mel- 
 lichampe at such a time in his grounds, and under circum 
 stances which seemed to indicate the privity of one or more of 
 the household to his visits, was. calculated, he well knew, to 
 make Barsfield suspicious of his loyalty. It was his policy, 
 and he was solicitous to prove to the tory that the youth re 
 ceived no manner of encouragement from him ; that his presence 
 was unlooked-for, and, if not contrary to his commands, was at 
 least without his sanction. He also well knew the aim of 
 Barsfield with reference to his daughter, and it was not less 
 his object, on this account, to impress the tory with the idea 
 of his own ignorance on all subjects which concerned the rebel. 
 In tremulous accents, confusedly and timidly, he strove to win 
 the ear of his sullen and dissatified guest. 
 
 "I am truly happy Ah ! I mean I am very sorry, Captain 
 Barsfield" and here he paused the words were too contra 
 dictory, and his first blunder frightened him ; hut Barsfield, 
 who also had his game to play, came to his relief hy inter 
 rupting him in his speech. 
 
 " Sorry for what, Mr. Berkeley 1 What should make yon 
 srry 1 You have nothing, that I can see, to be sorry for. 
 Your house is haunted by a rebel, and, though yon may not 
 encourage him, and I suppose do not, I yet know that hitherto 
 yon have been unable to drive him thoroughly away. It L- 
 your misfortune, sir, but will not be a misfortune much longer. 
 You will soon he relieved from tins difficulty. My force in a 
 short time will be adequate to clear the country in this quartei 
 ** the troop of outliers that haunt it ; and this duty, sir, 1 I ave 
 
108 MKLLICJIAMI E. 
 
 now in charge. Leave it to me to manage the youngster 1 
 shall make my arrangements for his capture, and he can not 
 long escape me. Once taken, he troubles neither of us again, 
 He swings for it, sir, or there is no law in the land/ 
 
 This discourse confounded the old gentleman. He was 
 not unwilling to he thought free from any collusion with 
 Mellichampe, but the youth was ft favorite. The bitter 
 speech of Barsfield, and the final threat, totally unmanned 
 his hearer, and he exclaimed, in a voice made tremulous by his 
 emotion 
 
 "What! Ernest Mellichampe hang Ernest Mellichampe, 
 captain ? Why, what has the poor youth done?" 
 
 "Done!" exclaimed the other; "done, Mr. Berkeley? 
 Why, sir, is he not one of that traitorous brood of Max Melli 
 champe, who was so fierce an enemy of his king; so merciless 
 in fight, and so uncompromising in whatever related to this 
 struggle? I had the good fortune to serve my sovereign, as 
 you know, by killing him ; and, from what has been shown to 
 me of this young man, I shall do my country no less a service 
 by sending him after his father." 
 
 " Oh, ay, captain but that was in fight. Of course Ernest, 
 if he lifts arms against our sovereign, must take his chance 
 
 like any other soldier in battle, but " 
 
 " He has incurred another risk to-night, Mr. Berkeley he 
 has penetrated into my line of sentinels as a spy." 
 
 The tor} silenced the well-intentioned speaker. They en 
 tered the hall, where Blonay still sat, alone, and in as perfect 
 a condition of quiet as if there had not been the slightest 
 uproar. Glancing his eye quickly around the apartment, and 
 seeing that none other was present, Barsfield approached the 
 half-breed with a look of stern severity, and, laying his hand 
 upon his shoulder, he thus addressed him : 
 
 " Hark ee, fellow ; you pretend to be a good loyalist you 
 have got Proctor s certificate to that effect why did you 
 not seek to take the rebel, when you were so much nigher 
 the entrance than any one of the rest? Did you not see 
 him?" 
 
 " Well, cappin, I reckon I did see him when he looked into 
 
THE TRAIL LOST. iO& 
 
 the glass, but I didn t know that lie was a rebel, I didn t see 
 no harm in his looking in the glass." 
 
 " But ^ hen I moved when I pursued did you not see 
 that he was my enemy ?" 
 
 " That s true, cappin ; but that was jist the reason, now, I 
 didn t go for ad. I seed from your eyes that he was your 
 enemy, and I know d from what you did you wanted to git a 
 lick at him yourself, and so I wouldn t put in. Every man 
 paddle his own canoe, says I ; and, if I has an enemy, I 
 shouldn t like to stand by and let another man dig at his throat 
 to spile my sport, neither would you, I reckon. It s no satis 
 faction for one man to jump between and take away another 
 man s pleasure, as I may say, out of his mouth." 
 
 The code of Blonay was new to Barsfield, though, from ito 
 expression, he at once well understood the prevailing char 
 acter of the speaker. It was for Barsfield to desire that his 
 enemy should perish, no matter by whose hands the passion 
 of Blonay prompted his own execution of every deed of per 
 sonal vengeance, as a duty incumbent on himself. A few 
 words farther passed between them, in which the tory hoped 
 he had secured the services of the half-breed, of whose value 
 he had conceived a somewhat higher idea from the strange 
 reason which he hud given for his quiescence in the pursuit of 
 Mellichampe. This over, the tory captain signified his deter 
 mination to retire, and, with a cordial "Good night!" to his 
 host, he left the room, and was instantly conducted to his 
 chamber. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the apartment of the two cousins, a far dif 
 ferent scene had been going on. There, immersed in her own 
 fears and apprehensions, Janet Berkeley listened in momently- 
 increasing terror to every sound that marked the continued 
 pursuit of her lover. As the clamor drew nigh or receded, 
 her warm imagination depicted the strait of Mellichampe ; 
 and it was only when, after the departure of Barsfield for tho 
 night, when her father could seek her chamber, that she heard 
 the pleasing intelligence of the tory s disappointment. It was 
 tnen that the playful Rose, as she saw that the apprehensions 
 ,f her cousin were now dissipated, gently reproached Janet 
 
110 MELLTCH AMPE. 
 
 for the want of confidence which she had shown in not un 
 folding to her the secret which the excitement of the preceding 
 event had too fully developed. 
 
 " To carry on a game of hide-and-seek so slyly, Janet ts 
 have a lover, yet no confidant no friend, and I, too, so noar 
 at hand. I who have told yon all, and kept nothing back, an 3 
 would have locked up your secret so closely that no rival, no 
 mama, no papa, should have been the wiser. And such a fine 
 subject for talk, Janet, in these long, sweet summer nights 
 now, when all is quiet, and there is nothing of a cloud, dear, 
 to be seen. Look, dearest, see what a beautiful night." 
 
 " I have no heart for it, Hose none. I am very unhappy," 
 vas the sad response of the afflicted maiden. 
 
 " Serve you right ; you deserve to be sad, Janet, if only for 
 **eing so sly and silent. Why, I ask you again, why didn t 
 you let me into the secret ? I could have helped you." 
 
 "Alas, Rose, this secret has been too oppressive to me not 
 to make me desire frequently to unfold it; but, as I have no 
 hope with my love, I thought better to be silent." 
 
 " And why, dearest," exclaimed the other, "why should you 
 have no hope? Why should your love never be realized? 
 Think you that Mellichampe is the man to play you false V 
 
 "No oh no! lie would not he could not. He is too 
 devoted too earnest in all that he does and feels, svir to 
 forget or deny. But it has been a sad engagement throughout 
 begun in sorrow, and strife, and privation, and carried cv. 
 in defiance of all danger, and with an utter regardlessness of 
 all counsel. God knows, I so misgive these visits, that 1 
 should rather he would be false to me than that he chould 
 come so frequently into danger of his life." 
 
 " Now out upon thee, cousin how you talk ! This danger 
 H the very sweetness, and should not be a dampener of love. 
 If the man be what he should be, he will not heed, but rathei 
 desire -it, as in stimulating his adventure it will also stimulate 
 his feeling and his ilame. For my part, I vow that I would 
 not have one of your tame, quiet, careful curs your hous. 
 liold husbands, who would wither do nor dare, but squa; 
 like overgrown labliics in tlic, chimney corner, pas;- 
 
THE TRAIL LOS1. Ill 
 
 away a long life of tedium in a protracted and monotonous 
 humming. If ever I get a lover, which, Heaven knows, seems 
 but a doubtful prospect at this moment, I vow he should have 
 no quiet he should be required to do just what you fret thai 
 \rellichampe is now doing. He should scale fences and walls 
 ford creeks when there s a freshet, and regularly come to visit 
 me through the swamp ; and this he must prove to me thai 
 he has done, by a fair exhibition of his bespattered bootrf and 
 garments. As for difficulties such as these frightening a lover 
 from his purpose, I would not give my name for any lover 
 who would not smile upon, while overcoming them." 
 
 In a sadder tone than ever, Janet replied to tie playful 
 girl, who continued to run on and interrupt her a intervals 
 wherever her speech seemed more desponding than usual. 
 
 " It is not mere difficulties, Rose, but positive daggers, that 
 I dread for Ernest; and, but that I know he will not heed my 
 words in such a matter, I should utterly, break with him, and 
 for ever, if it were only to keep him away from the risk into 
 which he plunges with little or no consideration. Twice or 
 thrice has he nearly fallen a victim to this same man, Bars- 
 field, who has a desperate hatred toward him " 
 
 " And a desperate love for you," said the other. 
 
 " Which is quite as idle, Rose, as the other is rash," replied 
 Janet, calmly, to the interruption. "Vainly have I implored 
 him to desist to forbear seeking or seeing me until the danger 
 and the war are over ; and, above all, to avoid our plantation, 
 where my father is too timid and too feeble to serve him when 
 there is danger, and where I am certain that spies of the tories 
 are always on the watch to report against any of the whig? 
 who may be stirring." 
 
 " And, like a good, stubborn, whole-hearted lover, Melli- 
 champe heeds none of your exhortations that would keep him 
 away. Heaven send me such a lover ! He should come when 
 he pleased, and, if I prayed him at all, it should be that he 
 would only leave me when I pleased. I would not trouble him 
 with frequent orders, I assure you." 
 
 " Ah, Rose ! would I had your spirits !" 
 
 M Ah, Janet ! would I had your lover ! He is just the lover 
 
1 12 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 now, that I desire ; and these perils that he seems to seek, and 
 this rashness of which you complain, commend him warmly 
 to my imagination. Poor fellow ! I m only sorry that he 
 should have his labor for his pains to-night; and must go back 
 the way he came, without getting what he came for." 
 
 Ileaven grant that he may, Rose !" said the other, earn 
 estly ; " but do you know that even this alarm will scarcely 
 discourage Ernest Mellichampe ? He has promised to come 
 to-night, and exacted my promise to meet him under the great 
 magnolia. I am persuaded that he will keep his word, in 
 spite of all the dangers that beset him. He is bold to hardi 
 hood, and I look not to sleep to-night until I have heard his 
 signal." 
 
 " Confess, confess, Janet, that you will sit up in the hope to 
 hear it." 
 
 "Not in the hope to hear it, Rose, but I will sit up at 
 least for some time longer. I could not sleep were I to go to 
 bed, under the anxiety which the belief that he will come 
 must occasion in my mind. But you need not wait for me." 
 
 " I will not I should be very peevish were I to hear a 
 love-signal, and have no share in the proceedings. I am cer 
 tainly a most unfortunate damsel, Janet, having a heart really 
 so susceptible, so very much at the mercy of my neighbors, 
 without having one neighbor kind enough to help me in its 
 management." And thus, rattling on, the thoughtless girl 
 threw herself upon her conch, and was soon wrapped in pleas 
 ant slumbers. Janet, sad and suffering, in the meanwhile 
 turned to the open window, unconsciously watching the now 
 rising moon, while meditating the many doubts and misgivings, 
 the sad fears and the sweet hopes, of a true heart and a warm 
 ly interested affection. 
 
SECRF/I PURPOSES. 118 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SECRET PURPOSES. 
 
 BARSFIELD sought his clian.bcr, hut not to sleep. Some ac 
 tive thought was in possession of his mind, operating to ex 
 clude all sense of weariness, and, indeed, almost to make him 
 forget, certainly entirely to overlook, the previous fatigues of 
 the day. He paced his room impatiently for several minute? 
 before he perceived that the servant was still in waiting. 
 When he did so, he at once dismissed him ; but, immediately 
 after, called him hack. 
 
 " Who s that Tony V 
 
 " Yes, sa." 
 
 "Where does the traveller the blear-eyed fellow sleep 
 to-night, Tony V 
 
 " In de little shed-room, Mass Cappin. 
 
 " Does it lock, Tony V 
 
 " He hah bolt inside, sir." 
 
 " Tis well ; take this ; you may go now." 
 
 He gave the negro, as he dismissed him, an English shilling, 
 which called forth a grin of acknowledgment and a liberal 
 scraping of feet. Alone the tory captain continued to pace up 
 and down the apartment, absorbed seemingly in earnest medi 
 tation. But his thoughts did not make him forgetful of the 
 objects around him. He went frequently to the windows, not 
 to contemplate the loveliness of the night, but to see whether 
 all was quiet in the little world below. His frequent approach 
 to his own chamber-door, which he opened at intervals, and 
 from which he now and then emerged, had a like object; and 
 this practice was continued until all sounds had ceased ; until 
 all the family seemed buried in the profound est slumber 
 
114 MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 Cautiously, then, he took his way from his own apartment, 
 and proceeding through the gallery, he soon reached th j little 
 shed-room to which Blonay had been assigned. He paused 
 for a single instant at the entrance, then rapped lightly, and 
 was instantly admitted. For a brief space the eyes of Blonay 
 failed to distinguish the person of the intruder. A few embers 
 in the fireplace, the remnants of the light-wood brands which 
 had shown him his couch, yielded a blaze, but one too imper 
 fect for any useful purpose. The voice of Barsfield, however, 
 immediately enlightened the half-breed. 
 
 " A friend," said the tory, in a tone low, carefully low, ana 
 fall of condescension. " A friend, and one who needs the ser 
 vices of a friend. I have sought you, Mr. Blonay, as I have 
 reason to believe I can rely on you. You have the certificate 
 of Major Proctor, a sufficient guaranty for your loyalty ; but 
 our brief conversation this evening has convinced me that you 
 are able, as well as loyal, and just the man to serve my pur 
 poses." 
 
 The tory paused, as if in expectation of some answer ; and 
 Blonay, so esteeming it, proceeded in his own way to the ut 
 terance of many professions, which might have been unneces 
 sarily protracted had not the Impatience of his visitor inter 
 posed. 
 
 " Enough ! I believe that you may be relied on, else I should 
 not have sought you out to-night. And now to my businesK 
 You heard me say I had an enemy ?" 
 
 The reply was affirmative. 
 
 "That enemy I would destroy utterly annihilate for 
 several reasons, some of which are public, and others private. 
 He is a rebel to the king, and a most malignant and unforgiv 
 ing cue. His father was such before him, and him I had the 
 good fortune to slay. The family estate has become mine 
 through the free grant of our monarch, in consideration of my 
 good services in that act. *Do you hear mo, sir?" 
 
 " Reckon I do, cappin," was the reply of the half-breed. 
 
 " Then you will have little difficulty in understanding my 
 desire. This son is the only man living who has any natural 
 claim to that estate in the event of a change of political sir 
 
SECRET PURPOSES. 115 
 
 cumstances which shall throw back the powpr of our sovereign. 
 In such an event, he would be the proper heir; and w.ould, 
 with reason, opyose his claim to mine. That claim would be 
 valid and ini ^ntestable, most probably, under any change of 
 eircum stan etc, were he once put out of the way. For this 
 reason, if for none other, I would destroy him." 
 
 " And reason enough," responded Blonay, " to kill a dozen 
 rebels." 
 
 " True ; but there are yet other reasons : lie has aspersed 
 me, denounced me to my face, on the commencement of this 
 war, and under circumstances which prevented me from seek 
 ing any atonement. In arms I have never yet been able to en 
 counter him ; as, from his good knowledge of the swamp, he 
 rer.dily eludes my troop. He is, besides, attended by a fellow 
 who watches over his safety, and follows and guards his every 
 movement; and there are few men who manage with so much 
 sKi 1 . and adroitness as the man in question. He is only to be 
 reached by one in a persevering search one who would not 
 turn an inch from his course, but, like the bloodhound, keep 
 close upon the track without suffering anything, not even force, 
 to divert him from his object. Such a man I hold you to 
 be." 
 
 Blonay thanked the tory for his good opinion, and the lat 
 ter proceeded. 
 
 " You are for killing your enemy with your own hand. I am 
 indifferent who kills mine, so that he ceases to trouble me. 
 The man who slays him for me is as much my instrument as 
 the knife which," in your hand, does the good deed for you. 
 Besides, even had I this desire, I could only pursue it at 
 great sacrifice. I should be compelled to give up my public 
 duties, which are paramount. I should be compelled to go 
 single-handed, and play the part of an outlier in the swamps 
 along with those whom I attempt to overreach. I am too well 
 known by them all ever to hope to win their confidence; and the 
 very nickname which they have conferred upon me for my ad 
 herence to my sovereign, if repeated in my ears, as it would 
 be by this taunting youth in question, would only drive my 
 blood into a more foolish and suicidal rebellion than is theirs. 
 
(16 MELLICIIAMl E. 
 
 other man some single-hearted friend must avenge 
 and rid me of my enemy. Will you be that man?" 
 
 " Well, now, cappin, I should like to know more about this 
 business; and the man I should like to hear his name." 
 
 " Mellichampe Ernest Mellichampe, the son of Colonel 
 Max Mellichampe, killed at Monk s corner in January last." 
 
 " Why, I don t know the man, cappin, I never seed him, 
 and shouldn t be able to make him ont. even if I stumbled 
 aver him crossing a log." 
 
 "That is no difficulty. I will give you marks and signs by 
 which you can not fail to know him under any circumstances. 
 You saw his face to-night. He came here to see and that 
 is another reason for my hatred he came here to see, not our 
 troop, nor our disposition, nor with any reference to our war 
 fare, but simply to see the young lady of the house." 
 
 "What, the gal in black her that looks so grand and so 
 sweet?" inquired Blonay, with some earnestness. 
 
 " The taller the dark-eyed one the daughter of the old 
 man, Mr. Berkeley." 
 
 " And you reckon there s love atween them?" curiously in 
 quired the half-breed. 
 
 "Ay, such love as I would not have between them," bitterly 
 responded the other. " I know that Mellichainpa has long 
 loved her, and I fear that she requites him in kind This is 
 another reason why I should hate him fo?. I too ---but why 
 should I tell you this? It is enough that I liatu, p.nd that I 
 would destroy him. Here, Blonay, take this it is gold 
 good British gold; and I give it as an earnest of what yon 
 shall have if you will bring me the cars of my en:;rny. Take 
 the swamp after him hunt him by day and by night: and 
 *vhcn you can come and show me, to my satisfaction, that he 
 troubles me no more, you shall have the sum doubled thri 
 Say that you will serve me." 
 
 He put five guineas into the hand of the unreluctant linH 
 breed, who at once deposited them from sight in a pocket ot 
 liis garment; and yet, though he secured {he money, Blon*.* 
 paused before giving his answer. 
 
 " Why do you hesitate:?" demanded the tory 
 
SECRET I Ultl OSKS. 117 
 
 " Well," said the other, in his drawling fashion, " I don t 
 know, cappin, how one business can go with the other. I 
 have, you see, a little affair of my own to settle with one of the 
 """bels in Marion s men, that s rather like the business you wants 
 .lie to go upon for you. Now, one must be settled fore the 
 othet; and tan t in natur, when a man s blood s up, that he 
 should turn aAvay from his own enemy to go after another 
 man s. I m on trail of my enemy now, and I should be sorry 
 to drop it, I tell you; and, deed, cappin, I can t, no how." 
 
 "Barsfield was still prepared to meet the difficulties suggested 
 by his proposed instrument. 
 
 " You need not give up one pursuit in taking up the other. 
 It is fortunate for us that our enemies are both in the same 
 drive. They are both men of Marion, and, in tracking one, 
 the probability is that you can not be very far from the other, 
 Indeed, for that matter, the one will be most likely to help you 
 to the other, as the squad of Marion must now be greatly re 
 duced, and he can not consequently venture to scatter them 
 much. This is no difficulty, but rather an advantage." 
 
 Blonay was silenced, if not convinced on this point. He 
 did not reply, but seemed for a few moments lost in deliber 
 ation ; at length, breaking the silence abruptly, he spoke of 
 another, and seemingly a foreign feature of the affair. 
 
 " And you say, cappin, that there s love atween him and 
 the young gal of the house Miss Janet, as they calls her 1 ?" 
 
 41 Yes ! but what is that to you?" replied the other, sternly. 
 " It matters nothing whether they love or hate, so far as our 
 business lies together. You are to labor to make that love 
 fruitless, if so be there is love, but without troubling yourself 
 to know or to inquire into the fact." 
 
 "Why, yes, that s true," responded the other; "it don t 
 matter this way or that, and " 
 
 They were interrupted at this moment by a distinct and 
 repeated whistle, just such a signal sound as had preceded 
 the appearance of Mellichampe at the window of the hall. 
 The tory put his hand upon the wrist of Blonay, while he 
 bent forward his ear to the entrance muttering to himself v 
 moment after, as he again heard the signal : 
 
us 
 
 M! I.I.ICMAMPE 
 
 "Now, by Heaven ! but this- is audacious beyond example. 
 The rebel is back again ; a scare lias no effect upon him, and 
 nothing but shot will. Stay!" he exclaimed; "hear you 
 nothing?" 
 
 " A footstep, cappin ; 1 think a foot coming down the steps. ; 
 
 And, even as lie said, they both distinctly heard, the next 
 moment, the tread of a foot cautiously set doAvn, moving 
 toward the back entrance of the house. Barsfield imme 
 diately sprang to the window of the apartment, and beheld, in 
 riie dim light just then bringing out the trees of the ground 
 and garden into soft and shadowy relief, a slender figure 
 stealing away toward the garden, carefully keeping as much 
 as practicable in the shelter of the huge water-oaks that ob 
 scured the alley. A mingled feeling of exultation and anger 
 spoke in his tone, as he exclaimed : 
 
 " I have him now the doe shall bring him to the hunter 
 he shall not escape me now ! Hark you, Blonay, wait me 
 here ! I will get my sabre, and be with you instantly. It will 
 be hard if we can not manage him between us. But there must 
 be no stir no noise ; what we do must be done by stratagem 
 and our own force. Get yourself ready, therefore ; your knife 
 will answer, for your rifle will be of little use in the thick 
 .shrubbery of that garden. We must sneak, sir ; no dove- 
 hunting without sneaking." 
 
 With these words, Barsfield left the apartment of the half- 
 breed and proceeded to his own. The feelings of the former, 
 however, scarcely responded to the sanguinary words of the 
 latter. When alone, his soliloquy, brief and harsh, was yet 
 new, seemingly, to his character. Hated and harried as he 
 had been by all before, lie had for the first time in his life been 
 touched with the influence of a gentler power ; and, mattering 
 to himself during the absence of the tory, he disclosed a better 
 feeling than any that we have been accustomed to behold in 
 him. 
 
 "If the gal loves him, and he loves her, I won t spoil the 
 sport atween em. She s a good gal, and had me to come to 
 supper at the same table, when the cappin spoke agin it. She 
 didn t laugh at me, nor stare at my eyes, as if I was a wiH 
 
varmint ; and she spoke to me jist as she spoke to other people 
 Adrat it ! he may cut his enemy s throat for himself, I slia n t; 
 but then 1 needn t tell him so, neither;" and, as he spoke, he 
 twirled the little purse of guineas in his pocket with a feeling 
 of immense satisfaction. In a moment after Barsfield return 
 ed, and led the way cautiously by a circuitous track towaid 
 the garden. 
 
 Let us now retrace oricfly the stfij S *. liave taken, and ob- 
 ; i \ e the progress of s- >me other of the oersous in our narrative. 
 
12C MELLICHAMP** 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 FHUlhJiSCREW IN PRACTICE. 
 
 WE have seen, pending the pursuit, that Mellichampe had 
 u.i>lly kept his way through the garden until he reached the 
 ? orest that lay immediately behind it. Here he paused Ito 
 felt secure from any night search by such a force as that undei 
 Barstielct. A huge gum, that forked within a few feet of its 
 base, diverging then into distinct columns, afforded him a tol 
 erable forest seat, into which, with a readiness that seeir.ed to 
 denote an old familiarity with its uses, the fugitive leaped with 
 little diffic:::7, The undergrowth about him was luxuriant, 
 and almost completely shut in the place of his concealment 
 from any glance, however far-darting, of that bright moon 
 which was now rising silently above the trees. 
 
 But a sharper eye than hers had been upon the youth from 
 the first moment of his flight from the garden. The trusty 
 Thumbscrew was behind him, and a watcher, like himself. 
 He had hurried from the conference with Humphries; and, 
 heedful of his friend, for whose safety he felt all a parent s 
 anxiety, he had pressed forward to the plantation of Mr. Berke 
 ley, and to those portions of it in particular which, as they had 
 been frequently traversed by both of them before, he well 
 knew would be the resort of Mellichampe now. Still, though 
 resolute to serve the youth, and having no more selfish object, 
 lie did not dare to offend him by exposing his person to his 
 sight. He arrived at a convenient place of watch just as the 
 pursuit of Barsfield was at its hottest. He saw the flight of 
 the fugitive from the garden, and, himself concealed, beheld 
 him take his old position in the crotch of the gum. His first 
 
THUMBSCREW IN PRACTICE, 121 
 
 impulse was to advance and show himself ; but, knowing the 
 lature of his companion well, he felt assured he should only 
 give offence, and do no service. His cooler decision was to lie 
 snugly where he was, arid await the progress of events. 
 
 At length the torches disappeared from. the garden, and it 
 was not long after when the lights seemed extinguished in (ho 
 house all but one. A candle, a pale and trembling light, 
 vas still to be seen in one window of the dwelling, and to this 
 the eyes of Mellichampe were turned with as fond a glance as 
 ever Chaldean shepherd sent in worship to the star with which 
 he held his fate to be connected. The light came from the 
 chamber of Janet Berkeley. It was the light of love to Melli 
 champe, and it brought a sweet promise and a pleasant hope 
 to his warm and active fancy. 
 
 Not long could he remain in his quiet perch after beholding 
 it. He leaped down, glided around the garden-paling, and 
 took his way to the park in front, keeping on the opposite side 
 of the fence which divided the ground immediately about the 
 dwelling from the forest and the fields. The fence, as is com 
 mon to most fences of like description in the luxuriant regions 
 of the rrntli, was thickly girdled with brush, serving admirably 
 the purpose of concealment. Pursuing it with this object, in 
 all its windings, he at length approached the park where the 
 British troops were encamped. Well and closely did he scan 
 their position; and, with the eye of a partisan, he saw with 
 how much ease a force of but half the number, properly guided, 
 might effect their discomfiture. He did not linger, however, 
 in idle regrets of his inability ; but, moving around the chain 
 of sentrieb, he ascertained that their position had undergone 
 no alteration, and felt assured that he could now penetrate the 
 garden safely. This done, he made his way back to the place 
 of his concealment. 
 
 In the examination which he had just taken, he had been 
 closely watched and followed by the faithful Thumbscrew. 
 The movements of the youth regulated duly those of his at 
 tendant. When the former halted, the latter fell back behind 
 the brush, advancing when he advanced, and checking his own 
 progress whenever the dusky shadow of i Mellichampe appeared 
 
MKJ.LICHAMrK. 
 
 to linger even for an instant in tlio moonlight. ITe escaped 
 detection. He played the scout with a dexterity and ease that 
 seemed an instinct, and hovered thus around the footsteps of 
 his daring friend throughout his whole progress, to and fro, in 
 the adventures of that night. 
 
 From the outside to the inside of the garden was but a step, 
 and in a trice Mellichampe went over the fence. Watching 
 heedfully until the youth was out of sight, and hidden within 
 its intricacies, Thumbscrew followed his example, and was 
 soon wending after him, close along its shady alleys. A dense 
 and double line of box, which, from having been long un- 
 trimmed, had grown up into so many trees, afforded an admi 
 rable cover; and, pausing at every turning, he looked forth 
 only sufficiently often to keep the course of the lover for ever 
 in his sight- 
 In the meantime, Mellichampe made his way to the garden 
 entrance. Here he stopped with an unwonted degree of pru 
 dence, for which Thumbscrew gave him due credit ; ho forbore 
 to press forward, as the latter feared he might do seeking to 
 cross the court, which, though interspersed with trees, was yet 
 not sufficiently well covered to afford the necessary conceal 
 ment. Keeping within the garden, therefore, he gave the 
 signal, the first sounds of which chilled and warmed with con 
 tradictory emotions the bosom of the sweet maiden to whose 
 ears it was addressed. The breath almost left her as she 
 heard it, and she gasped with her apprehensions. 
 
 "Too too rash, Ernest!" she exclaimed in a low tone, as 
 ;t reached her ears, and her hands were involuntarily clasped 
 together. "Too rash too daring too heedless, for me as 
 tor thyself. Ah! dearly indeed am .1 taught how much you 
 love me, when you make these reckless visits, when you wan 
 tonly brave these dangers ! But T must go !" she exclaimed, 
 hurriedly, as she heard the signal impatiently repeated ; "I 
 nnis ,. go I must meet him, or he will seek me here. He will 
 rush into yet greater dangers ; he will not heed these soldiers ; 
 and his old hatred to Barsfield, should he have distinguished 
 him to-night, will prompt him, I fear me much, to seek him 
 out even where his enemies are thickest." 
 
TllUMHSCKKW IN PRACTICE. 
 
 Thus soliloquizing, she approached the couch where Rose 
 Duncan was sleeping. 
 
 "Rose Rose!" She called to her without receiving any 
 
 answer. Assured tliatjshe slept, Janet did not seek to disturb 
 her; but, after a hurried" prayer, which she uttered while kneel 
 ing by the bedside, she rose witli new courage, and, without 
 further hesitation, unclosed the door, passed into the corridor, 
 and descended to meet her daring lover. Little did she dream 
 that the eyes of hate and jealousy were upon her; that a ma 
 lignant foe was no less watchful than a fervent lover; that 
 one stood in waiting, seeking her love, and, at the same time, 
 no less earnestly desirous of the heart s blood of her lover ! 
 
 She emerged into the court, which she hurried over incau 
 tiously, and was received by Mellichampe at the entrance of 
 the garden. He took her to his arms he led her away to 
 the shelter of the great magnolias that towered in a frowning 
 group from its centre ; and the joy of their meeting, in that 
 season and country of peril, almost took away the sting and 
 the sorrow which had followed their separation, and now ne 
 cessarily came with their present clangers. The happiness of 
 Mellichampe was a tumult that could only speak in broken 
 exclamations of delight ; that of Janet was a subdued pleasure 
 a sort of bright, spiritual, moonlight gleam, that came steal 
 ing through clouds, mingled with falling drops, that were only 
 not oppressive as they seemed to fall from heaven. 
 
 " Dear, dearest Janet my own Janet my only! I have 
 you at last; your hand is in mine your eyes look into my 
 own. I can not doubt that you are with me now. I believe 
 it I know it, by this new-born joy which is beating in my 
 heart. Ah, dearest, but for thattory reptile, this rapture would 
 have been mine before. But you are here at last, and, while 
 you are with me, I will not think of him. I will think of 
 nothing to vex; I will know but one thought, but one 
 feeling the long-cherished, dearest of all, Janet the feel 
 ing of adoration, of devoted love, which my bosom bears for 
 you." 
 
 The youth, as he spoke, had clasped her hands both in his, 
 and his eyes looked for hers, which were cast down upon the 
 
MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 grass below them. When she looked up, and they vict hii 
 glance, he saw that they were glistening with tears. 
 
 " You weep you weep, Janet. I vex you with my love 
 :a are unhappy. Spea; -say to me, clearest, wnat new 
 affliction what new strife and sorrow? What do these 
 tears mean ? Say out ! I am used to hear of evil ; it will not 
 disturb me now. Is there any new stroke in store for me ? 
 Do not fear to name it ; anything, only, only, Janet, if I am 
 to suffer, let it not be your hand which is to deal it." 
 
 " There is none ; none that I have to deal ; none that I know 
 of 
 
 " Then there is none ; none that should trouble me ; none 
 that should make you weep. No tears, Janet, I pray you. 
 We meet so seldom, that there should be no cloud over our 
 meeting. See, love, how clear, how beautiful is this night ! 
 There were several clouds hanging about the moon at her 
 rising, but they are all gone, and now hang like so much 
 silver canopy above her head : she is almost full and round ; 
 and there is something of promise in her smile for us so, 
 dearest, it appears to me. Smile with me, smile with her, 
 my beloved, and forget your griefs, and dismiss your tears." 
 
 " Alas, Ernest ! how can I smile, when all things alarm me 
 for you ? The pursuit to-night your vindictive enemy, 
 Barsfield, oh, Ernest, why will you be so headstrong so 
 rash ?" 
 
 " There is no danger. I fear him not, Janet ; but he shall 
 learn to fear me : he does fear me, and hence it is that he 
 hates and pursues me. But the fugitive will turn upon his 
 pursuer yet. The time is coming, and, by the God of heav 
 en " 
 
 She put her hand upon his arm, and looked appealingly into 
 his eyes, but spoke not. 
 
 " Well, well, say nothing: forgive me, dearest ; I will speak 
 no more of him ; I will not vex you with his name you are 
 now sufficiently vexed with his presence. But the time will 
 come, Janet, and, by Heaven if I mistake not greatly 
 Heaven s justice it can not be far off, when he .shall render " 
 me a fearful account of all his doings tr mo and mine, lie 
 
T1IUM1JSCRKW IN PRACTICE. 
 
 125 
 
 lias now the power the men, the arms, but there will b* 
 some lucky hour which shall find him unprovided, when- 
 
 She again appealed to the youth, whose impetuosity wai 
 again becoming conspicuous. 
 " You promised me, Ernest." 
 
 " Forgive me, dearest I did promise you, and I will forbear 
 to speak of the reptile ; but my blood boils when I but hear 
 his name, and I forget myself for the moment." 
 " Ah, Ernest, you are but too prone to forgetting." 
 "Perhaps so, Janet: your charge is true ; but you I never 
 forget ; my love for you goes along with every thought, and 
 forms a part of the predominant mood, whatever that may be. 
 Thus, even when I think of this man, whose name inflames 
 my blood until I pant for the shedding of his, one of the influ 
 ences which stimulates my anger is the thought of you. He 
 comes between us ; he fills your father s mind with hostility to 
 me, and he seeks you, Janet, he seeks you for his own." 
 
 " Nay, Ernest, why should you think so 1 He has made no 
 avowal ; and I am sure the regard of my father for you has 
 undergone no change." 
 
 " It is so, nevertheless ; and your father is too weak and too 
 timid, whatever may be his affections, to venture to maintain 
 opinions in hostility to those who command him when they 
 please. He has denounced me to your father, that I know ; 
 he seeks you, I believe ; and much I fear me, Janet, your 
 father will yield to his suggestions in all cases, and both of us 
 will become the victims." 
 
 As the youth thus addressed her,, the tears departed from 
 her eyes, and the expression which followed upon her face was 
 calm and pleasantly composed. There was no rigidity in its 
 muscles ; each feature seemed to maintain its natural place ; 
 and her words were slow, and uttered in the gentlest tones. 
 
 "Have no fear of this, Ernest, I pray you, Should this 
 man, should my father, should all, so far mistake me, as to 
 entertain a thought that I could yield to a union with Barsfield, 
 do not you mistake me. I will not vow to you, Ernest ; I have 
 no protestations to make, I know not how to make them ; but 
 you will understand, and you will believe me in the assurance 
 
126 
 
 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 which 1 now give you, that 1 can not hold my senses, and con 
 sent to any connection with the person you speak of." 
 
 "Bless you, dear Janet, but I needed no such assurance. I 
 only feared that you might be driven by circumstances, by 
 trick, by contrivances, to make a sacrifice of yourself for the 
 good of another." 
 
 "Alas ! Ernest, I now know what yon would say. You 
 would tell me that my father, at the me.rcy of this man, as he 
 is, may require me as the^ offering by which he is to be saved. 
 God help me ! it is a strait I have not thought upon. I will 
 not, I dare not, think upon it ! Let us speak no more of this.* 
 Gloomily and sternly the youth replied: 
 "But you will think upon it, Janet; it may be required of 
 you ere long. Think upon it, and provide your strength." 
 
 " God forbid, Ernest ; God forbid ! Let me die first ! Let 
 me perish before it becomes a question with me, whether to 
 sacrifice peace, hope, the proper delicacy of my sex, and all 
 that I live for, and all that 1 would love, to the safety of an 
 only parent. Oh, Low false I should be to promise love to a 
 being whom I could only hate or despise ! What a daughter 
 could 1 be, to resist the prayers of a father requiring me to do 
 so ! Alas, Ernest, you bring me every form of trial. You 
 make me most unhappy. You come rashly into the clutches 
 of your deadly fop., and I tremble hourly, however I may 
 rejoice when i hear that you are coming, I dread to see you 
 perish before my eyes, under the weapons of these men : and, 
 when you come, what is it that I am compelled to hear \ what 
 fear- are before me ! what horrors i Ah, if love be a treasure, 
 t hp a joy to love and to be loved, it is so much the harder 
 to think hourly of its loss, and of its so unguarded condition. 
 .Better not to feel, better to be hollow-hearted and insensible, 
 than thus continually to dread, and as continually to desire 
 to foar with every hope, and to weep even where you would 
 smile the most." 
 
 She buried her face in his bosom as she spoke, and her sobs 
 were audible. His arm gently supported while enclasping her, 
 and her nfflictioiin greatly tended to subdue the impetuous 
 eharaclHr of his [>rovious mood. He replied to her fondly, in 
 
niUMBSCRKW IN PRACTICE. 127 
 
 those low tones which only the rich sensibility can understand, 
 and the generous, warm spirit, employ understandingly. 
 
 "And yet, dearest, those very sorrows have a sweetness. 
 Privation, pain, denial, even the lost love, Janet, are nothing 
 to the choice spirit which has faith along with its sympathyl 
 What consoles me? What has consoled me in the perils andj 
 the pains, the losses and the sorrows, which I have undergone, 
 in this warfare, and within the last two years 1 My confidence 
 in you; my perfect faith that, however desolate, poor, denied, 
 and desperate, however parted by enemies or distance, I was still 
 secure of your love ; I still knew that nothing, no, not even death, 
 my Janet, could deprive me of that. If you have that con 
 fidence in me, my beloved, these sorrows, these trials, are only 
 so many strengthened. You will then find that the sorrows 
 of love, borne well and without despondence, are the sweetest 
 triumphs of the true affection. They are the honors which 
 time can never tarnish ; they are the spoils which last us for 
 ever after. Janet, if, like you, I doubted, if I did not feel 
 assured of your unperishing truth, I should rush this night, 
 madly, and with but one hope of death, upon the swords of 
 these tory-troopers. I should freely perish under your eyes, 
 with but one prayer, that you might be able to behold me to 
 the last." 
 
 "Speak not thus!" she exclaimed, with a shudder, looking 
 around her as she spoke ; " and do not think, Ernest, from what 
 I have said, that 1 have not the same perfect faith in you that 
 you feel in me ; but I despair of all our hope. I am truly a 
 timid maiden, and I am always fancying a thousand woes and 
 sorrows. I can not dare to believe otherwise than that our 
 loves are unblessed ; I can not hope that we shall realize them : 
 and oh, Ernest, your rashness, more than all things beside, 
 tends to confirm in me these apprehensions. Why will you 
 come to me when your enemies are abroad 1 Promise me. 
 dear Ernest, to fiy from this neighborhood until the danger has 
 gone over. There is no dishonor none." 
 
 "Ay, but there is, Janet ; but of this we need say nothing. 
 I could tell you much of friends, and good service to be done, 
 hut may not. Let us speak of more pleasant matters : of oui 
 
128 MEI.MCJIAMPK. 
 
 hopes, not of our fears ; of our joys, not of our sorrows ; of the 
 future, too, in exclusion of the present." 
 
 And thus, loving and well beloved, the two discoursed to 
 gether ; she sadly and despondingly, but with a true devoted- 
 ness of heart throughout ; and he, warm in all things, impetu 
 ously urging his love, his hope, his hatred to his enemies, his 
 promises of vengeance, and his fixed determination to pursue 
 the war in the neighborhood, in spite even of her solicitations 
 that he should fly to a region of greater security. 
 
 Thumbscrew, meanwhile, had been anything but remiss in 
 his guard. He had cautiously pursued his youthful associate, 
 keeping close upon his heels, yet narrowly watching to avoid 
 discovery. ^T tvugh a bold and daring man, he yet esteemed the 
 feelings and desires of Mellichampe with a sentiment of respect 
 little short of awe ; the natural sentiment of one brought up as 
 lie had been, to regard the family of his wealthy neighbor as 
 superior beings in many respects. Apart from this, the quick, 
 impetuous spirit of the youth exacted its own observance ; and, 
 as his commands had been positive to his comrade not to at 
 tend him, and urged in a manner sufficiently emphatic to en 
 force respect, the more humble companion felt the necessity 
 of seeming submissive at least. We have seen that his regard 
 trampled over his obedience, and it was well perhaps that it 
 did so. It was not long that Thumbscrew had maintained his 
 watch, before his quick ear detected the approach of footsteps. 
 He ventured to peep out from his bush, and he was able to see 
 the distinct outline of the intruder s person. He saw him ap 
 proach the long alley in which he himself was sheltered, and 
 n-tthin a few paces of the lovers ; and he immediately changed 
 !ii^ ov/n position. Barsfield for it was he came on, passed 
 lie spot which sheltered the scout, and, stealing heed fully 
 . iroiind a clump of orange, made his way to the rear of the 
 hick bower in which Janet and Mellichampe were seated. 
 The scout tracked him with no less caution and much more 
 adroitness. He placed himself in cover, and coolly awaited 
 the progress of events. The impatient spirit of Barsfield did 
 not suffer him to wait long. The tory, it is probable, heard 
 something of the dialogue betweeu the two, and his movement 
 
THUMLJSCRKW IN PRACTICE. 129 
 
 Deemed prompted at the particular moment when it took place 
 by some remark of Mellichampe, which, from the exclamation 
 of Barsfield as he rushed upon the youth, had touched the eaves 
 dropper nearly. Leaping forward from behind one of the mag 
 nolias where he had been screened, with drawn sword, and a 
 movement sufficiently hurried to pass the ground which sepa 
 rated them in the course of a few seconds, he cried to his rival 
 in a bitter but suppressed tone of voice 
 
 " You shall pay dearly for that lie, Mellichampe !" 
 
 In the next moment, a buffet from an unseen hand, that 
 might have felled an ox, saluted his ear, and he stumbled mi-- 
 harmingly forward at the feet of the man whom he had sought 
 to slay. 
 
 "Save me oh, Ernest, save me! Fly, fly! away, Er 
 nest it is Barsfield!" 
 
 Screaming thus, at the first alarm, the maiden clung to the 
 youth, and trembled with affright. lie, on the instant, had 
 drawn his dirk, and putting her aside almost sternly, threw 
 himself upon the half-stunned person of the tory : but his hand 
 was seized by the watchful attendant. "Let me fix him, Air- 
 nest, boy ; I knows how to manage the varmint." 
 
 " You here, Witherspoon 1" demanded the youth. 
 
 "As you see him, Airnest but take care of the gal, and 
 send her safe home and quietly to bed. Ax pardon, Miss 
 Janet, for scaring you, but twas the only way to manage the 
 critter ; but you had better run now, while I put what I calls 
 my screwbolt upon the tory s jaw. Airnest, boy, let me have 
 your handkerchief, since I may want another. There !" 
 
 With his knee upon the bosom of the tory, he busied himself 
 meanwhile in bandaging his mouth. The intruder did not 
 submit quietly, but began to show some few signs of dissatis 
 faction. His movement provoked an additional pressure of the 
 knee of his assailant upon his breast, while the huge handker 
 chief which was employed upon his mouth, as he endeavored 
 to cry out, ^vas thrust incontinently into it. He was a child in 
 the hands of his captor. 
 
 "Easy, now. Mr. Barsfield be quiet and onconsarned, and 
 no harm shall come to you; but, if you re at all opstropolous, 
 
130 MELL1CI1AMPE. 
 
 I shall be bound to take up a stitch or two in your jaw here, 
 that ll be mighty disagreeable to both of us. Airnest, now, 
 boy, don t stop for last words, bullet s be off, or we ll have all 
 the cubs looking after the great bear. I ll hold the lad quiet 
 till you see the gal safe to the gate, but don t go farther." 
 
 He kept his word and his good-nature, in spite of all the 
 struggles of his prisoner. Once, and once only, he seemed to 
 become angry, as the tory gave him something more than the 
 customary annoyance ; but a judicious obtrusion of a monstroun 
 knife, which was made to flash in the moonlight before the 
 eyes of the captive, was thought sufficient by the scout in the 
 \v;iy of exhortation. 
 
 " It s a nasty fine piece of steel, now, captain, and if you 
 g ives me much more trouble I shall let you have a small taste 
 of its qualities ; so you had better lay still till I lets you off, 
 which won t be long, for you re of no more use to me here than 
 a dead possum in a hollow thirty miles off. If I had you in 
 the swamp, now, I could drive a little trade in your skin. I 
 could swap you for some better man than yourself; but I m 
 your friend here, for, to say the gospel truth to you, captain, 
 if I didn t stand between you and Airnest Mellichampe, you 
 wouldn t see what hurt you : he d be through you like a ground- 
 mole, though in much shorter time ; and there wouldn t be an 
 inch of your heart that his dirk wouldn t bite into. But you re 
 safe, you see, as you re my prisoner the captive, as they used 
 to say in old times, of my bow and spear though, to be sure, 
 it was only my fist that did your business." 
 
 It was thus that, like a good companion as he was, Thumb 
 screw regaled the ears -of his prisoner with a commentary upon 
 the particulars of his situation. In the meantime, Mellichampe 
 conducted, or rather supported, the maiden to the garden en 
 trance. When there she recovered her strength, as she per 
 ceived that he designed attending her to the dwelling. This 
 she resisted. 
 
 "No, Ernest, no! risk no more! 1 will not*see I will 
 not suffer it. Let us part now in danger still, as we liavo 
 ever been. In sorrow let us separate- -alao I fear, in sorrow 
 to meet again, if again we ever meet." 
 
THUMBSCJREW IN PRACTICE. 131 
 
 " Speak not thus," he replied, hoarsely. " Why these sad 
 misgivings ? is our love so much a sorrow, my Janet?" 
 
 " Sorrow or pleasure, JSrnest, it is still our love a love that 
 1 shall die in, and fear not to die for. But do not linger, I 
 pray you : remember that Witherspoon is waiting for your re 
 turn before he can release that man." 
 
 " Release him !" was the stern exclamation, and a fierce but 
 .suppressed laugh of bitterness fell from the lips of Mellichampe 
 v. ith the words. 
 
 "Ay, release him, Ernest. What mean you by those words 
 that laugh"? Surely, surely, Ernest, you do not mean him 
 harm?" 
 
 "Would he not harm us? has he not harmed me already? 
 Jr.iiot, you must remember I had a father once." 
 
 " 1 do I do ; but oh, Ernest, dismiss your thoughts, which 
 I see are fearful now. Promise me, Ernest, that you will do 
 this man no harm." 
 
 Her hand earnestly pressed his arm as she entreated him. 
 He was silent. 
 
 "Ernest," she exclaimed, solemnly "Ernest, remember! 
 the hand of Janet Berkeley can never be won by crime." 
 
 He released her hand, which till this moment he had held 
 There was a strife going on within his bosom. She gazed or? 
 him suspiciously, and with terror. 
 
 " I leave you, Ernest," she whispered, " I leave you ; but do 
 that man no harm." 
 
 There was a solemnity in her tones that rebuked his thoughts. 
 She was leaving him, but turned back with a gentler tone 
 
 " I doubt you not, dear Ernest ; I doubt you not now. For 
 give me that I did so for an instant; and oh, Ernest, come not 
 again into this neighborhood till these men are gone. Promise 
 me promise me, dear Ernest." 
 
 What would not love promise at such a moment? Melli 
 champe promised he knew not what. His thoughts were 
 elsewhere; and he felt not, that, in kissing her cheek as they 
 parted, his lips had borne away her tears. 
 
132 MELLIOHAMPK. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A FRIENDLY HITCH. 
 
 DURING the momentary absence of Mellichampe, his trusty 
 associate had been equally busy with himself. He had com 
 pletely gagged his prisoner with a handkerchief of no common 
 dimensions, and not remarkable for the delicacy of its texture. 
 He had finished this labor with a facility that was marvellous, 
 and seemed to speak loudly for his frequent practice in such 
 matters. This done, he took his seat composedly enough upon 
 the body of the tory, and in this manner awaited the return of 
 Mellichampe. 
 
 Barsfield, meanwhile, though at first a little uneasy and op- 
 strepcrous, soon found it necessary to muster all his philosophy 
 in the endurance of an evil that seemed unavoidable for the 
 present. The huge, keen knife of the woodman glared threat 
 eningly in his eyes, and he saw that his efforts to escape, in 
 more than one instance already, had provoked an expression 
 of anger from his captor, who at other moments seemed good- 
 natured and indulgent enough. The tory consoled himself, 
 however, with the thought that Blonay could not be far off ; 
 and that, having made the circuit of the garden, as it. had been 
 appointed to him to do, he would soon come to his assistance 
 and release. With this reflection, though burning for vengeance 
 all the while, he was content to keep as quiet as was consistent 
 with a position so very uneasy and unusual. 
 
 The fierce mood of Mellichampe was in action on his return: 
 there was a terrible strife going on within his heart. A san 
 guinary thirst was striving there for mastery, opposed strongly, 
 it is true, but not efficiently, by a just sense of human feeling 
 not less than of propriety. But there was no calm delibora 
 
A FRIENDLY HITCH. 133 
 
 tion, and his passions triumphed. All his more violent and 
 vexing impulses were active in dictation. His eye was full 
 of desperate intention : his hand grasped his bare dagger, and 
 his movement was hurried toward the prisoner, whose eye 
 turned appealingly to that of Witherspoon. The latter had 
 his own apprehensions, but he had his decision also. He saw 
 the manner of Mellicharnpe s approach ; he understood directly 
 the dreadful language which was uttered from his eye, though 
 sleeping upon his lips ; and he prepared himself accordingly 
 to encounter and resist the movement which the glance of his 
 comrade evidently meditated. 
 
 He was scarcely quick enough for this. A sudden and fierce 
 bound, like that which the catamount makes from his tree 
 upon the shoulders of his approaching victim, carried the form 
 of Mellichampe full upon the breast of the tory, who strove, but 
 vainly, to shrink away from beneath. The impetuous movement 
 half displaced the woodman. In another moment the weapon 
 must have been in the throat of the tory, but for the ready 
 effort and athletic arms of Witherspoon. He grasped the 
 youth from behind. His embrace encircled completely, while 
 securing him from the commission of the deed. 
 
 " Release me, Witherspoon," cried Mellichampe to his com 
 panion, while the thick foam gathered about his lips and half 
 choked his utterance. 
 
 . " I ll be G d denied if I do, Airnest," was the decisive 
 reply. The youth insisted -the woodman was inflexible. 
 
 " You will repent it. Witherspoon." 
 
 " Can t be helped, Airnest, but I can t think to let you go to 
 do murder. Taint right, Airnest ; and dang my buttons if any 
 man that I calls my friend shall do wrong when I m standing 
 by, if so be I can keep his hands off." 
 
 "Shall this wretch always cross my path, John Wither 
 spoon ? shall he always go unpunished ? Does he not even 
 now seek my life his hands not yet clean from the blood of 
 my father? Release me, Witherspoon it will be worse if 
 you do not." . 
 
 " That s my ook-out, Airnest, I know ; it s the risk I runs 
 always, and it s no new thing. But, Airnest, I can t let yoa 
 
134 
 
 AIELLICHAMPB. 
 
 go, onless j on promise not to use your knife. The fellow de- 
 sarves the knife, I reckon ; but, you sec lie s a prisoner, and 
 can t do nothing for himself. It ain t the business of a sod 
 ger and a decent man to hurt a critter that can t fend off." 
 
 " A reptile a viper, who will sting your heel the moment 
 you take it from his head !" 
 
 Maybe; but he s my prisoner, Airnest." 
 
 "Why, what can you do with him? you can t carry him 
 with you?" 
 
 No, Airnest; but that s r.o reason that I should kill him." 
 "What will you do with him?" inquired the youth. 
 "Leave him here jist where he is, on the flat of his back, 
 and mighty oncomfortable." 
 
 " Indeed ! to pursue us, and by his cries, direct his hounds 
 upon our heels? Let him rise, rather give him his sword, 
 and let him fight it out with me in the neighboring wood." 
 
 "Not so fast, Airnest that ll be a scheme that would only 
 hobble botli of* us, and I m not going to risk any such ej; :- 
 vance. I have a much better notion than that, if you ll only 
 hear to reason ; and all I axes of you is, jist to keep your knife 
 ready at the Jiap s throat, but not to use it onless* he moves 
 and gits obstiopolous. Say you ll do that now, while I takes a 
 turn or two upon my shadow, and I ll let you loose." 
 The youth hesitated. The woodman went on 
 " You mought as well, Airnest, I m not guine to loose you 
 onless you says you won t hurt the critter. Say so, Airnest, 
 and I ll fix him so lie can t follow us or make any fuss." 
 
 Finding that his companion was inflexible, and most prob 
 ably somewhat subdued by this time, and conscious of the crime 
 he. had striven to commit, Mellichainpe consented, though still 
 reluctantly, and the moment after he was released. The 
 .voodman rose and began to make some farther preparations 
 lor the securing of his prisoner. Meanwhile, with his knee 
 firmly fastened upon the breast of the tory, and his dagger up 
 lifted and in readiness, the eyes of the youth were fastened 
 \vith all the demon glare of hatred and revenge upon those 
 f the man below him. The feelings of Barsfield under such 
 circumstances were anything but enviable. Accustomed to 
 
A I ltlENDLY 111T(JH. 135 
 
 judge of meu by his own nature, he saw no reason to feel 
 satisfied that Mellichampe would keep the promise of forbear 
 ance which he had made to his companion ; and yet he dread 
 ed to exhibit emotion or anxiety, for fear of giving him suf- 
 ficieiit excuse for not doing so. His emotions may well be 
 inferred from the natural apprehensions of such a situation; 
 and his base soul sunk into yet deeper shame, as he lay trem- 
 I ling beneath his enemy, dreading the death which was above 
 him, and which lie well knew he so richly deserved. 
 
 But Thumbscrew was considerate, and did not long keep 
 the tory in suspense. In the few moments in which he had 
 withdrawn himself from the person of the prisoner, he had 
 made sundry arrangements for better securing him ; and, with 
 a cord of moderate length, which he had drawn from a capa 
 cious pocket, he constructed a running noose, or slip-knot, with 
 which he now approached the prisoner; speaking in a low 
 tone of soliloquy all the while, as much, seemingly, for Bars- 
 field s edification as for his own. 
 
 " I will jist make bold, Oappin Barsfield, to give you a hitch 
 or two in the way of friendship. You shall have as fast bind 
 ing a title to this little bit of a bed as time and present sar- 
 cumstances will permit. It s only for your safe keeping and our 
 safe running, you see, that I does it. I ll hitch up your legs 
 there, don t be scared, they shall go together to this same 
 bench here ; and that, you see, will keep them from coming 
 too close after ours. And as for the little bandage over your 
 arms, why, you ll have to wear it a little longer, though it s 
 too good a rag for me to leave behind. There don t jerk or 
 jump now, for it will soon be done. I m mighty quick fixing 
 such matters as these, and it takes me no time to hitch up a 
 full-blooded tory when once I gits my thumb and forefinger 
 *pon him. There." 
 
 Thus muttering, he* lashed the legs of the prisoner to one 
 j* the rude seats under the magnolias ; and, freeing his com 
 panion from the further restraints of his watch, the two pre 
 pared to start -Wither spoon, unseen by Mellichampe, having 
 first possessed himself of the sword of the tory, which he ap 
 propriated with all the composure of a veteran scout. They 
 
136 MELLICHAMTK. 
 
 soon found their way out of the garden, through the darkest 
 of its alleys, and they could not have gone far into the forest 
 when Blonay, who seemed to have timed his movements with 
 admirable accuracy, approached the spot where Barsfield lay 
 struggling. The tory was completely in toils his feet anl 
 hands tied securely, and his mouth so bandaged that but a 
 slight moaning was suffered at intervals to escape him in his 
 efforts at speech. With well-acted zeal and a highly becom 
 ing indignation, Blonay, as soon as he discerned the situation 
 of his employer, busied himself at his release. Enraged at 
 the humiliation to which he had been subjected, and at the 
 escape of his enemy, Barsfield demanded why he had not come 
 sooner. But to this the other had his answer. He had fol 
 lowed the tory s directions, and had kept the lower fence of 
 the garden winding into the woods, and had crossed it at a 
 point which had been designated for him ; by which it had 
 been Barsfield s hope, that, flying from him, the fugitive must 
 be encountered by his coadjutor. 
 
 " You went too far round," said the commander, sullenly ; 
 " and yet they are but a few moments gone. You say you 
 have not seen them?" 
 
 The answer was negative. 
 
 " It is strange : but, by G d, it shall not always be thus, 
 Come with me. sir; I will talk with you in my chamber." 
 
 And they retired to confer upon the scheme which the tory 
 bad proposed to Blonay just before the adventure of the garden. 
 
 We will now leave them and return to the fugitives, who 
 were already far away upon their flight to the spot where their 
 horses had been hidden. The first words of Mellichampe to 
 his companion were those of reproach 
 
 " Why did you follow me when I forbade it, John Wither- 
 spoon ?" 
 
 "Well, now, Airnest, I think that s ho sort of a question 
 seeing the good that s come of ray following." 
 
 " True, you have served me, and perhaps saved me ; but 
 what will Janet think of me when she recovers from her fright? 
 She will think I brought you there, and that you overheard 
 what passed between us." 
 
A VUIKNDLY HITUti. 137 
 
 "Well, she ll think wrong, Airnest, if she does. It s true, I 
 did hear a good deal, but that was owing to the necessity of 
 being close upon the haunches of that other chap. As a true 
 man, Airnest, I never wanted to hear, and I did not get close 
 enough to hear, till that skunk come out from behind the pear- 
 tree, and I saw him sneaking round to the magnolias. Then 
 it was I came out too, and only then it was I heard the talk 
 between you." 
 
 " It matters not now, Witherspoon ; my fear is that it may 
 pain Janet to suppose that my friends are brought to overhear 
 that language which a young lady should only think to herself, 
 and can only utter to one ; and no motive of regard for my 
 safety, though so far warranted by circumstances as upon the 
 present occasion, should have prompted you to do so." 
 
 " But I had another reason, Airnest, that is a good reason, I 
 know. Just after I left you came one of Marion s road-riders, 
 Humphries, you know, calling in the scouts ; and you re 
 wanted, and I m wanted, and we re all of us wanted, for there s 
 to be a power of the tories gathering in two days at Sinkler s 
 Meadow, and the fox is mighty hungry to git at em. I have 
 the marks and the signals, and we must push on directly. 
 It ll take us three good hours more to work our way into the 
 swamp." 
 
 " Ah ! then we ha^e little time to waste," was the prompt 
 reply ; and, scouring down the road, they came to the broken 
 branch which lay across the path, and indicated by its own 
 the position of its fellow. Following the directions given by 
 Humphries, they were soon met by the line of sentinels, and 
 the path grew cheery after a while, when the occasional chal 
 lenge, and the distant hum and stir of an encampment, an 
 nounced the proximity of Marion in his wild swamp dwelling 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE TORY CAPTAIN AND THE LADY. 
 
 THE reflections of Barsfield were by no means consolatory 
 or grateful on his return to the mansion. A few moments were 
 devoted to Blonay, of whom the tory felt perfectly secure, and 
 the two then separated for the night, seeking their several 
 chambers. In the morning the latter was up betimes, and, 
 descending to the breakfast-room, the first person who encoun 
 tered his glance was the fair Janet Berkeley. 
 
 She was alone. A slight flush overspread her cheek as lie 
 entered the apartment; but he was not the person exactly 
 who could greatly disturb her equanimity. Her eye was cold 
 and unshrinking, and her courtesy as easy, unconstrained, and 
 :-tant as ever. The case was widely different with him. 
 started as he beheld her turned away without the 
 usual salutation then, suddenly conscious of his rudeness, 
 he wheeled round, vis if about to charge an enemy, confronted 
 her valiantly enough, and bowed stiffly, and with evident 
 effort For a few moments no word passed between the two, 
 and this time was employed by Barsfield in pacing to and fro 
 along the apartment. At length, muttering something to him- 
 i ulf, the sounds of which were only just audible to the maiden, 
 .e walked into the corridor, looked hastily around, and then 
 quickly, as if he wished to anticipate intrusion, re-entered the 
 room, and-at once approached the maiden. 
 
 "Miss Berkeley," be said, "it is unnecessary that I should 
 remind you of last evening s adventure. The circumstances 
 cuu not have been forgotten, though the singular composure of 
 
THE TOIiV OAi TAlN AJMU TIIlL LADY. 189 
 
 your countenance this morning would seem to imply a strange 
 lack of memory on your part, or a far stranger indifference to 
 its intimations." 
 
 He paused, as if in expectation of some reply, and she did 
 not suffer him long to wait.. Her response was instantaneous, 
 and her equable expression of countenance unbroken. 
 
 " There is nothing strange, sir, I believe, if you will consider 
 well the subject of which you speak. I know of no circum 
 stances so strong in my memory which should disturb my 
 composure, however some of them may affect yours. Are you 
 not suffering from some mistake, sir?" 
 
 " Scarcely, scarcely, Miss Berkeley," he exclaimed, hur 
 riedly ; " though, I must confess, your reply astounds me not 
 less now than your composure at our first meeting. Will you 
 pretend, Miss Berkeley, that you were not in the garden at a 
 late hour of last night ?" 
 
 " I saw, sir, that you must labor under some mistake, and 
 ouch is certainly the case when you presume to examine me 
 thus. But I will relieve the curiosity which seems to have 
 superseded all your notions of propriety, and at once say that 
 I was in the garden last night" 
 
 " Tis well and there you saw another." 
 True, sir. I then and there saw another." 
 "A rebel a lurking rebel, Miss Berkeley." 
 " A .brave man, a gentleman, an honest citizen, sir. My 
 friend my father s friend " 
 
 " Say not so, for your father s sake, Miss Berkeley, I pray 
 you. It would greatly endanger the safety of your father, 
 were it known in the councils of Cornwallis that the son of the 
 notorious Max Mellichampe was his friend ; and still more, 
 were it known that they were in intimate communion." 
 
 " I said not that, Captain Barsfield, I said not. that" was 
 the hasty reply of Janet, in tones and with a manner that 
 showed how much she apprehended the consequences which 
 might arise from such an interpretation of her remark. Bars- 
 field smiled when he saw this, as he felt the consciousness of 
 that power which her words had given him over her. She 
 continued : " Do not, I pray you, think for a moment that m\ 
 
140 MIOLLICUAMl E. 
 
 father knows anything of the visits of Mr. Mellichampe. .e 
 came only to see me " 
 
 The tory interrupted her with a sarcastic smile and spe /!\ : 
 
 " And I am to understand that the dutiful Miss Berk* icy 
 consents to receive the visits of a gentleman Avithout the c* :i 
 currence, and against the will, of her father ? A dilemma, : \ 
 it not, Miss Berkeley ?" 
 
 " I will not submit to be questioned, sir," was her prompt 
 reply ; and her eye glanced a haughty fire, before which that 
 of the lowly-bred tory quailed utterly. "You again mistake 
 me, sir, and do injustice to my father, when you venture such 
 an inquisition into my habits. I am free, sir, to act as my own 
 sense and discretion shall counsel. My father is not unwilling 
 that I should obey my own tastes and desires in the selection 
 of my associates, and to him alone am I willing to account." 
 
 She turned away as she spoke, and busied herself, or seemed 
 to busy herself, with some of the affairs of the household, with 
 the object, evidently, of arresting all farther conversation 
 But with the pause of a few moments, in which he seemed to 
 be adjusting in his own mind the doubt and difficulty, Bars- 
 field put on an air of decision, and readvanced to the maiden. 
 
 "Hear me but a few moments, Miss Berkeley, and be not 
 impatient ; and, should any of my words be productive of 
 annoyance, I pray you to overlook them, in consideration of 
 the difficulties which, as you will see, may soon lie before 
 you." 
 
 " Difficulties ! but go on, sir." 
 
 " I need not say that I was a witness to your conference 
 with this young man last night." 
 
 "You need not, sir," was her reply, with a manner that gave 
 life to the few words she uttered. A scowl went over the 
 tory s face, obscuring it for a moment, but he recovered in 
 stantly. 
 
 " I heard you both, and I felt sorry that you should have 
 risked your affections so unprofitably." 
 
 The maiden smiled her acknowledgments, and he proceeded. 
 
 " Fortunately, however, for you at least, such ties as these, 
 particularly where the parties are so young as in the present 
 
THE TOBY CAPTAIN AJiD THE LADY. 141 
 
 instance, are of no great strength, and are seldom duraw e. 
 They can be broken, and usually are, with little detriment to 
 either party." 
 
 " I purpose on my part, sir, nothing of the kind, * was her 
 cool reply, interrupting him, as he was about to continue in a 
 speech of so much effrontery, and which was so little grat 
 ifying to his auditor; "I purpose not to try the strength or 
 durability of any of the ties which I have made, Captain 
 Barsfield." 
 
 "But you will, Miss Berkeley you must, as soon as you dis- 
 . cover that such ties are unprofitable, and beyond any hope of 
 realization. The man with whom your pledge is exchanged 
 is a doomed man!" 
 
 " How, sir ? speak !" 
 
 " He fights with a halter about his neck, and his appearance 
 last night in the neighborhood of my troop is of itself suffi 
 cient for his condemnation, as it leads to his conviction as 
 a spy !" 
 
 " I can share his doom, Captain Barsfield, though I believe 
 not that such is within your power. I can not think that Lord 
 Cornwallis has conferred upon you any such authority." 
 
 " This parchment, this commission, and these more expres 
 sive orders, Miss Berkeley, would tell you even more woulr 
 tell you that your own father is at my mercy at this very mo 
 ment, as one, under your own avowal, privy to the presence o* 
 a rebel as a spy upon my command. My power gives me ju 
 risdiction even over his life, as you might hero read for your 
 self, were not my words sufficient." 
 
 " They are not they are not," she exclaimed hastily, and 
 trembling all over. " I will not believe it ; let me see the 
 paper." 
 
 "Pardon me ; Miss Berkeley, but I may not now. It is suf 
 ficient for me that I know the extent of my power and its 
 limits. It is not necessary that I should unfold it." 
 
 " I will not believe it, then I will not trust a word that you 
 have said. I can not think that the British general can have 
 thought a thing so barbarous so dishonorable." 
 
 " It is so, nevertheless, Miss Berkeley ; but thero will be 
 
little or no danger to the father, if the daughter will listen tc 
 reason. Will you hear me ?" 
 
 " Can J do less, Captain Barsfield ? go on, sir." 
 
 I accept the permission, however ungraciously given. 
 Hear me, then. These vows the ties of childhood, and re 
 straining none hut children can hardly he considered, when 
 circumstances so bear against them. I have a perfect knowl 
 edge of all the circumstances between yourself and this rebel 
 Mellichampe." 
 
 " You have not said, sir, and I marvel at the omission, with 
 what wonderful ingenuity your knowledge was obtained." 
 
 " Your sarcasm is pointless, Miss Berkeley, when we know 
 that a time like the present not only sanctions, but calls for 
 and commands, all those little arts by which intelligence of 
 one s enemies is to be obtained. Is it my offence or my good 
 fort itne, to have heard more than concerned the cause for which 
 I contend? Certainly not my offence ; it is for you to say 
 how far it may be for my good fortune." 
 
 "To the point to the point, Captain Barsfield, if you 
 please." 
 
 " It is quite as well," he responded, with a sullen- air of 
 determination, as the impatient manner of Janet showed how 
 unwillingly she listened : " tis quite as well that I should 
 and all I ask from you now, Miss Berkeley, is simply that you 
 should heed and deliberate upon what I unfold, and make no 
 rash nor ill-considered decision upon it First, then, let me 
 say, that your father is in my power but in mine alone. I 
 am willing to be his friend henceforward, as I have been here 
 tofore. 1 am able and desirous to protect him, as well against 
 the rebels as from the injustice of such loyalists as might pre 
 sume upon his weakness to do him wrong ; but I am not suf 
 ficiently his friend or my own enemy, to do all this without 
 some eq uvalcnt. There must be a consideration." 
 
 lie paused ; and, as the maiden perceived it, she spoke, while 
 a smile of the most provoking indifference, suddenly, though 
 for a moment onlj , curled the otherwise calm and dignified 
 folds of her lips 
 
 " I can almost conjecture what you would say, Captain 
 
THE TOKY CAPTAIN AND THE LADY. 
 
 Barsfield ; but speak on, sir, I pray you. Let there b& an end 
 of this. 
 
 " I can scruple little to say out what you assume to have 
 conjectured so readily, Miss Berkeley ; and I speak my equiv 
 alent the more readily, as "you seem so well prepared to hear it. 
 You, then, are the equivalent for this good service, Miss Berke 
 ley. Your hand wjjl he my sufficient reward, and my good 
 services shall ever after be with your father for his protection 
 and assistance." 
 
 "Think of something 1 else, Captain Barsfield," she replied, 
 with the utmost gravity; "something better worthy of th> 
 service something better suited to you. I am not ambitious, 
 sir, of the distinction you would confer upon me. My hopes 
 arc humble, my desires few; and my father but hero he 
 comes. I will speak of this affair no further." 
 
 And she turned away with the words, Just as the old man, 
 entering, met the baffled tory with some usual inquiry as to 
 the manner in which he had. slept, and if his bed had been 
 pleasant; and all with that provoking simplicity that wag 
 only the more annoying to Barsfield, as it brought the com 
 monest matters of daily life into contrast and collision with 
 those more important and interesting ones, in the discussion 
 and urging of which he had but a few moments before been so 
 earnest. He replied as well as he could to the old gentleman, 
 who complained bitterly of his own restlessness during -the 
 night, and of strange noises that had beset his ears, and so 
 forth a long string of details, that silenced all around, with 
 out the usual advantage which such narrations possess, toward 
 nightfall, of setting everybody to sleep. But the signal was 
 now given for breakfast, and the lively Rose Duncan made 
 her appearance, bright and smiling as ever; then came Lieu 
 tenant Clayton ; and lastly, our old acquaintance Blonay. 
 Breakfast was soon despatched, and was scarcely over when 
 Barsfield, who had given orders for his troops to move, took 
 Mr. Berkeley aside. Their conversation was long and earnest, 
 though upon what subject remained, for a season at least, 
 entirely unknown to the household, Janet, howler, could 
 not but remark that a deeper shadow rested upon the visage 
 
144 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 of her father; and even Rose Duncan, playful and thoughtless as she 
 ever was, complained that during the whole day her uncle had never 
 once asked her for a song, or challenged her to a game at draughts. 
 
 "Something wrong, Janet," she exclaimed to her companion, 
 after freely remarking upon the condition of things; "something 
 wrong, I m certain. This tory lover of yours is at the bottom of it. " 
 
 And, without pausing for reply, she whirled away in all the 
 evolutions of the Meschianza, humming, like some errant bird, a 
 wild song, that did not materially disagree with the capricious move 
 ment. Janet only answered with a sigh as she ascended to her 
 chamber, 
 
THE HALF-B3Trj*D TKA1LS HI8 ENEMY. 14 S 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE HALF-BREED TRAILS HIS ENEMY. 
 
 BARSFIELD ordered a guard of ten men, and prepared to ride 
 over to the "Kaddipah" plantation the reward of his good 
 services in the tory warfare. The distance between the two 
 p ] aceB was but five miles ; and, in the present prostrate con 
 dition of Carolina affairs, ten men were deemed quite ade 
 quate for his protection. They might not have been, had the 
 " swamp fox" been warned of his riding soon enough to have, 
 prepared a reception. Clayton was left in charge of the troop ; 
 and in no very pleasant humor did the tory proceed to leave 
 the mansion of Mr. Berkeley. He had not, of late years, been 
 much accustomed to contradictions of any sort ; and his 
 recent elevation, as an officer of the British army, tended still 
 more to make him restiff under restraint or opposition. He 
 was disappointed in the effect which he had promised himself 
 to produce upon the mind of Janet Berkeley, from a display 
 of the power of which he was possessed, and still more annoyed 
 at the cool, sarcastic temper which she had shown during their 
 conference. Her frank avowal of the interest which she felt 
 in Melhchampe the calm indifference with which she listened 
 to his remarks upon the nocturnal interview with her lover 
 and the, consequences of that interview to himself these 
 were all matters calculated to vex and imbitter his mood, as 
 he rode forth from the spot in which they had taken place. 
 His manner was stern, accordingly, to his lieutenant, Clayton, 
 while giving him his orders, and haughty, in the last degree, 
 to the men under him. Not KG, however, was his treatment of 
 Blonay, whom lie heard calling familiarly to his dog, and who 
 
14t> MKLLlCHAMPiv 
 
 stood ready, about to mount his tacky, as if going forth 
 witli himself. 
 
 " You go with me, Mr. Blonay ?" was his question to the 
 half-breed, uttered in the mildest language. 
 
 " Well, cappin, I reckon it s best that I should go long with 
 you tell I can hear something of Marion s men When I 
 hears where to look for em I reckon I ll leave you, seeing it s 
 no use for me to go scouting with a dozen. 
 
 " You are right," was the response ; " but fall behind till I 
 send the men forward ; I would have some talk with you." 
 
 Blonay curbed his pony, called in his dog, and patiently 
 waited until, sending his men forward under a sergeant, Bars 
 field motioned him to follow with himself. 
 
 " You were sadly at fault last night, Mr. Blonay," was the 
 first remark which he made to the half-breed, as they entered 
 upon the avenue; "it is to be hoped that you will soon do 
 better." 
 
 " Tworn t my fault, cappin I did as you tell d me," was 
 the quiet answer. 
 
 " Well, perhaps so ; you are right, I believe. I did send 
 you too far round. That confounded garden holds several 
 acres." 
 
 " Five, I reckon," said the other. Barsfield did not heed 
 the remark, but abruptly addressed him on the subject which 
 was most active in his thoughts. 
 
 " You hold your mind, Mr. Blonay, I presume, for this adven 
 ture ! You will undertake the business which I gave you in 
 hand ? You have no fears no scruples?" 
 
 " Well, I reckon it s a bargin, cappin. I ll do your business 
 if so be I kin, and if so be it doesn t take me from my own. 
 I puts my own first, cappin, you see, for twould be agin natui 
 if I didn t." 
 
 " You are perfectly right to do so ; but I am in hope, and I 
 believe, that you will soon find our business to lie together 
 If the enemy you seek be one of Marion s men, so ismy enemy . 
 rihould you find one, you will most probably get some clew to 
 the other; and the one object, in this way, may help you to 
 both." 
 
THE HALF-IiRKKI) TRAILS HIS ENEMY. 
 
 "And you think, cappin, that Marion s men is in these 
 parts?" 
 
 " Think ! I know it. The appearance of this youth Melll- 
 champe, with his cursed Inseparable Witherspoon, as good as 
 proves it to me. Not that they are strong, or in any force ; 
 on the contrary, my letters tell me that the rebels have, in a 
 great many instances, deserted their leader, and gone into 
 North Carolina. Indeed, they say he himself has gone ; but 
 this I believe not : he still lurks, I am convinced, in the 
 swamp, with a small force, which we shall quickly ferret out 
 when we have got our whole force together. To-morrow we 
 go to meet our volunteer loyalists at Sinkler s Meadow, 
 where they assemble, and where I am to provide them with 
 
 " There s a-many of them to be there, cappin ?" was the 
 inquiry of Blonay. 
 
 " Two hundred or. more. The wagons which you saw carry 
 their supplies." 
 
 The tory captain, in this way, civilly enough responded to 
 other questions of the half-breed, the object of which he did 
 not see ; and in this manner they conversed together until the 
 guard had emerged from the avenue into the main road, and 
 was now fully out of sight. Interested in giving to his com 
 panion as precise a description as possible of the person, the 
 habits, and character of Mellichampe, which he did at intervals 
 throughout the dialogue, Barsfiehl had moved on slowly, and 
 had become rather regardless of the movement of his men, 
 until, reaching the entrance of the avenue, he grew conscious 
 of the distance between them, and immediately increased- his 
 pace. But Blonay did otherwise ; he drew up his pony at this 
 point, and seemed indisposed to go forward. 
 
 " Why do you stop?" cried the tory, looking back over hi< 
 shoulder. The answer of Blonay satisfied him. 
 
 " I forgot something, cappin the knife and the pass. I 
 must go back, but I ll be after you mighty quick." 
 
 Without waiting for the assent of his employer, he started 
 oft on his return, pricking the sides of his pony with a degiee 
 of earnestness. to which the little animal was not accustomed 
 
14$ MKLLICIIAMPE. 
 
 and which he acknowledged by setting off at a rate which 
 seemed infinitely beyond his capacities. Barsfield was satis 
 fied to call to him to follow soon ; and, putting the rowel to 
 his own steed, he hurried forward to resume his place at the 
 head of his men. 
 
 But it was not the intention of Blonay to go back to the 
 dwelling which he had so lately left. lie was practising a 
 very simple ruse upon his companion. lie had forgotten noth 
 ing neither knife nor passport; and his object was merely to 
 be relieved from observation, and to pursue his farther journey 
 alone. He had a good motive for this ; and had resolved, with 
 certain efficient reasons, which had come to him at the moment 
 of leaving the avenue, to pursue a different route from that of 
 the toiy. 
 
 After riding a little way up the avenue, he came to a halt; 
 and, giving the toiy leader full time, not only to reach his 
 men, but to get out of sight and hearing with them, he coolly 
 turned himself round and proceeded to the spot where they 
 had separated. Here he alighted, and his keen eyes exam 
 ined the road, and carefully inspected those tracks upon it, a 
 casual glance at which, as he rode out with Barsfield, had de 
 termined him upon the course which he had taken. He looked 
 at all the horse-tracks, and one freshly made in particular. 
 The identical outline of shoe, which he had so closely noticed 
 on the battle-ground of Dorchester, \vas obviously before him; 
 and. remounting his horse, he followed it slowly and with cer 
 tainty. Barsfield more than once looked round for his ally, 
 but he looked in vain ; and each step taken by both parties 
 m;ide the space greater between them. The half-breed kept 
 his way, or rather that of his enemy, whom he followed with a 
 spirit duly enlivened by a consciousness that he was now upon 
 the direct track. 
 
 In this pursuit the route of Blonay was circuitous in the ex 
 treme. He had proceeded but a mile or so along the main 
 road, when the marks which guided him turned off into an old 
 field, and led him to the very spot where we discovered Melli- 
 champe and Witherspoon the day before. The keen eye of 
 the half-breed soon discovered traces of a human haunt, but 
 
THE HALF-BltEKD TRAILS HIS ENEMY. 
 
 nothing calculated to arrest his progress, as the marks of the 
 flying horseman were still onward. Obliquely from this point 
 still farther to the right, he entered a dense forest. Here h i 
 made his way with difficulty, only now and then catching the- 
 indent of the shoe. He soon emerged from the thick wood, a,: i 
 the path was then open. Here, too, he discovered that there 
 had been an assemblage of persons, as the ground, in a liUfo 
 spot, was much beaten by hoofs, and still prominent among 
 them was that which he sought in chief. This encouraged 
 him ; and, as the whole body assembled at the spot seemed to 
 have kept together, he had no little difficulty in continuing th. 
 search. At length the road grew somewhat miry and sloppy. 
 Little bays at intervals crossed his path, through which th 
 horsemen before him seemed to have gone without hesitation 
 The forests were now broken into hammocks, which were in 
 dented by small bodies of water. Here the cypress began to 
 send up its pyramidal shapes; and groves of the tallest cane 
 shot up in dense masses around it. The cressets lay green 
 upon the surface of the dark pond, and the yellow and purple 
 mosses of the festering banks presented themselves to his eyes 
 in sufficient quantity to announce his proximity to the swamp. 
 
 But to Blonay, thoroughly taught in all the intricacies of 
 the " cypress," its presence offered no discouragement whatso 
 ever to the pursuit. At length, reaching an extensive pond, 
 he Ipst all trace of the horses. He saw at once that they had 
 entered the water; but where had they emerged? The oppo 
 site banks were crowded close to the water s edge with the 
 thickest undergrowth -mingled with large trees, whose quiet 
 seemed never to have been disturbed with the axe of the wood 
 man or the horn of the hunter. The wild vine an", the clus 
 tering brier, the slender but numerous canes, the gum-shoot?., 
 cypress knees or knobs, and the bay, seemed to have been 
 welded together into a solid wall, defying the footsteps of any 
 invader more bulky than the elastic black-snake, or less vig 
 orous and well-coated than the lusty bear. 
 
 Blonay saw the impervious nature of the copse ; but ho also 
 felt assured that the pursuit must lead him into and through it 
 He gaw that through it the wen must have gone whose foot 
 
150 S1ICLLIC11AMPK. 
 
 J( jp:> he Lad followed, and lie accordingly soon completed lnt 
 -.rsolvcs as to what he should himself do. He slowly led his 
 fv.r.so back to a spot of land the highest in the neighborhood. 
 leaving done thin, he fastened him to a shrub; then sought 
 ant one of the loftiest, trees, which he ascended with habitual 
 p id long-tried dexterity. 
 
 ilis elevation gave him a full and fine view of the expansive 
 swamp before him. He looked down upon the pale, ghostly 
 fiyus of the old cypresses, sprinkled with the green cedar, and 
 h?re and there, where the sand was high enough to yield a bed 
 GiithViently spacious for so comprehensive a body, the huge and 
 high shaft of the colossal pine. These all lay before him 
 their tops llaf, gently waving under his eye beneath the slight 
 wind passing over them, making a prospect not less novel than 
 imposing. 
 
 But Blonay had no eye for the scene, and but little taste for 
 the picturesque. He had sought his giddy perch for another 
 purpose ; and he was satisfied with the result of his labor when. 
 it the distance of six or eight hundred yards from the entrance 
 of the swamp, he detected a slight wreath of smoke curling up 
 from among the trees, and spreading around like some giant 
 tree itself, as if in protection over them. He noticed well in 
 what direction the smoke arose, and quietly descended from 
 his place uf elevation. 
 
 Keeping this direction constantly in mind, he now saw that 
 the persons he pursued must have gone into the pond, and kept 
 in it for some distance afterward, emerging at a point not at 
 that moment within the scope of his vision. He doubted not 
 that, following the same course, he should arrive once more 
 upon their traces at some point of outlet and entrance. 
 
 To conjecture thus, was, with him, to determine. He touched 
 liis pony smartly with his whip, and, whistling his dog to fol- 
 low, plunged fearlessly into the pathless space, and his saddle- 
 skrrts were soon dipping in the yellow water. He kept for 
 ward, however, through the centre of the pond, and was soon 
 Ratified to find some appearances of an opening before him, 
 On liis right hand the pond swept round a point of land, ma- 
 into the copse, and forming a way which was impercepti- 
 
THE HALF-Withfcv /RAILS 1IIS ENEMY. 151 
 
 blc at tbe place whence he had originally started. He dut 
 not scruple to pursue it; and, passing through a narrow defiU 
 of water, over which the vines ran and clambered, thrusting 
 their sharp points continually in his face, and making his prog 
 ress necessarily slow, he at length ascended a little bank, and 
 once more found the tracks which he had followed so fa: 
 Giving his little pony a few moments of rest, he again set for 
 ward ; and, after an arduous progress of an hour, he began to 
 hear sounds which imposed upon him the necessity of greater 
 caution in his progress. The hum of collected men their 
 voices the occasional neigh of the horse the stroke of ihe 
 axe and now and then a shout announced his proximity to 
 the camp. 
 
 He was now within a few hundred yards of one of the fa 
 mous retreats of " the swamp-fox ;" and, dismounting from his 
 nag, which he carefully fastened in a secure place of conceal 
 ment, he went forward on foot, only followed by his dog ; 
 moving slowly, and scrutinizing, as he did so, every tree and 
 bush that might afford shelter to an enemy. He still advanced 
 until he came to a small creek, which wound sinuously along 
 before him, and which now formed the only barrier between 
 himself and the retreat of the partisans. He saw their steeds 
 in groups, fastened to the overhanging branches of the trees ; 
 he saw the troopers lying at length in similar places of shel 
 ter some busied in the duties of the camp and of preparation 
 some taking their late breakfast, and others moving around 
 as sentinels, one of whom paced to and fro within thirty yards 
 of the little copse from which he surveyed the scene in safely. 
 
 It was while gazing intently on the personages constituting 
 these several groups, that Blonay discovered his dog in rapid 
 passage acrosb a tree that lay partly over the creek which sep 
 arated him from the encampment. Attracted, most probably, 
 by the good savor and rich steams that arose from a huge fire, 
 over which our old acquaintance Tom was providing the crea 
 ture-comforts of the day, the dog made his way without look 
 ing behind him, and Blonay was quite too nigh the sentinels 
 to venture to call him back by either word or whistle. Cursing 
 the cur in muttered tones to himself, he drew back to a safer 
 
162 
 
 istance, still keeping in sight, however, of the entire circuit 
 i.^rcupied by the partisans. 
 
 Here he watched a goodly hour, taking care that no single 
 
 movement escaped his eye; for, as he had now found out one 
 of the secret paths leading directly to the haunt of an enemy 
 so much dreaded as " the swamp-fox," he determined that his 
 knowledge of all its localities should be complete, the better to 
 enhance the value, and necessarily increase the reward, which 
 he hoped to realize from its discovery to some one or other of 
 the British leaders. Let UP now penetrate the encampment 
 
THE HALF-BKERD IS WINDED, 163 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE HALF-BREED IS WINDEJ}. 
 
 THE hiding-place of Marion was admirably chosen in all 
 respects, whether as regards convenience or security. It was 
 a high ridge of land, well timbered, narrow, and long, and run 
 ning almost centrally into the swamp. Two or three outlets, 
 known only to the partisans, and these, as we have seen, in 
 the one instance already described, intricate and difficult of 
 access even to the initiated, were all that it possessed ; and 
 here, secure from danger, yet not remote from its encounter, 
 if circumstances or his own desires so willed it, "the swamp- 
 fox" lay with his followers during brief intervals of that long 
 strife in which he contended for his country. 
 
 His force was feeble at this period. It consisted only of the 
 pmall bands of natives, gathered under local officers chiefly 
 fyorn the lower country, none of whom had ever seen what was 
 called regular service. He had been deserted by all the con 
 tinentals with the exception of two, whom he had rescued from 
 their British captors soon after the battle of Camden ; but, 
 though thus few in number, and feeble in resource, the par 
 tisan" catching the full spirit of their leader, were never in 
 active. 
 
 In the camp, while Blonay looked out on all hands for his 
 particular victim, the stir of preparation was heard by the over 
 looking spy. Hurried orders were given, horses were put in 
 preparation, swords were brandished, and rifles charged home. 
 Amid all the bustle, there Avas still room for jest and merri 
 ment. Like boys just let loose from school, the men playfully 
 gambolled about among the forest avenues. Here, you saw a 
 Mttlc party engaged in leaping; there were others, hurling the 
 
154 MKLLICIIAMPK. 
 
 bar; others, again, less vigorously limbed or winded, held sol 
 emn conclave, in deeper thickets, busy in all the intricacies of 
 "old sledge" (or "seven up"), which, in that unsophisticated 
 period, had not given place to brag and poker. 
 
 Of all the groups and persons visible in the partisan camp, 
 there was but a single individual who seemed in no way to 
 participate in the moods and employments of the rest whose 
 thoughts were certainly foreign to all amusements. This mel 
 ancholy exception was no other than our philosophic epicure, 
 Lieutenant Porgy. You behold him, where he sits upon a 
 fallen tree, his belt undone, his sword across his lap, his elbows 
 on his knees, his great chin within his palms, his eyes looking 
 lit vacantly and sadly, without seeming to perceive the groups 
 (r the sports around him. He sits in silence, for a wonder; 
 lie has no soliloquies ; and when he seems to be growing 
 thoughtful, it is with such a disconsolate expression, that one 
 apprehends some very serious misfortunes impending. Why 
 should Porgy be sad? Perhaps he has gone without his sup 
 per. The new swamps have probably failed in the treasures 
 of terrapin which endeared those of the Ashley to his affec 
 tions. 
 
 But Tom appears the cook par excellence and we look 
 to-him for explanation. There is no falling off of flesh in the 
 case of Tom, or his master; and there is an unctuous shall 
 we call it greasy appearance, about the mouth and cheeks 
 of the negro, that will not permit us to think that he, at least, 
 has suffered any recent diminution of his creature comforts. 
 Now, we can not suppose that, where Tom can find fuel for 
 himself, his master will be permitted to sit without a fire. If 
 Tom can procure hoe-cake and bacon for his own feeding, it 
 is very sure that Porgy will not go without his supper. His 
 cause of trouble lies in some other quarter than the stomach, 
 But Tom is about to clear his voice for speech, as his master 
 looks up, inquiringly, at his approach. 
 
 " He s berry bad, maussa !" 
 
 "Worse?" 
 
 " He s berry bad, sah." 
 
 " Worse, I say ?" 
 
TliK MALK-BllKEl) IS WINDKD. 155 
 
 "Hah! who kin say but he se f? De hcis b&r. de mss 
 Tiictions dis time, I ebber see !" 
 - Will he die, Tom ?" 
 
 "Ef he no git better, maussa, I spec de buzzard nab uno 
 chance for put up meat to-night." 
 
 " You are yourself a buzzard, ycu r?,scal ; to speak in thh 
 way of the condition of the be?.c ; >: 
 
 " Ki ! maussa, whey s de lia rn 1 [hy,:m] Hoss hab for dead 
 jis like white man and ni ^er, Yc " :1 bul T lloss > like y ou 
 bury man, and do buzzard hat for git em!" 
 
 ""Tom, when you die, there shall be no weight of earth put 
 upon you. You shall be laid out bare, just where the horse is 
 laid should you suffer him to die ! and I shall have a trum 
 peter to sound a notice to all the buzzards, for fifty miles round, 
 to attend your funeral." 
 
 "Come, come, maussa; twunt do for talk sicli ting! Tom 
 nebber for bury when he dead 1 None but buzzard for ax to 
 he fun rel? and jis kaise you hoss gwine for dead, and no 
 body for help em ! wha Tom kin do ? He a n t boss-doctor. 
 Speck, maussa, you better try Doctor Oakenburg. Speck he 
 hab someting to gee de hoss. He can t cure de man, when he 
 sick ; may-be, he kin cure de hoss ! Better ax em, maussa." 
 "What! are you such an enemy of the poor beast, Tom, 
 that you want to subject him to new miseries 1 What pleasure 
 can. you find in seeing such a beast as Oakenburg torturing 
 such a beast as Nabob 1 and you have fed and groomed Nabob 
 for five years ! Have you no affection for an animal that you 
 have been intimate with for so long a time 1 You have ridden 
 him a thousand times. He has borne you as tenderly as youi 
 own mother. Have you no gratitude, you rascal, that you 
 wish to thrust one of Oakenburg s decoctions into his stomach V 
 " Oh ! go long maussa ; you too foolish ! How I want for 
 gee de hoss misery ? I wants for care em ! Da s it ! I speck 
 de physic, wha de doctor mek , will mek de hoss well 
 
 " What ! though it kills the man ! Tom, I sometimes think 
 you are half a fool at best. No, Tom ; Nabob must get well 
 without help from Oakenburg, or he s a dead beast. His Ltom- 
 ach has always been a good one till now. It shall never be 
 
156 MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 deliled Ly any ?f Oakenburg s decoctions. But you, Tom, as 
 a cook, and a good cook, ought to know what s good even for 
 the stomach of a horse. Medicine, itself, is only the proper 
 sort ox {bed for a morbid condition. Is there nothing now that 
 you can think of, Tom, that the poor beast can make out to 
 eat. Think, old fellow ; think." 
 
 ^ 1 see dem gib hoss-droiicli, msk wid whiskey, and soot, 
 and salt; but whay you u. uo git salt here for hoss, and you 
 n;> hab none for sodger? 
 
 "Where, indeed I The prospect is a sad one enough: 
 a.id you say, Tom, that all the salt is gone that came up last 
 week from Georgetown ?" 
 
 " Kbbry scrap ob cm, inaussa no hab nough to throw on 
 bird tail ef you want to catch em. Dis a bad country, Mass 
 Porgy no like de old cypress, whay you can lap up nough 
 salt from de swamp to cure you meat for de year round, and 
 season you hom ny by looking at em only tree minutes by the 
 sun." 
 
 "And you know nothing, Tom, that will ease the animal?" 
 
 "No, maussa, I see de buckrah gib drench heap time, but I 
 aebber cix how he been mek." 
 
 " Has Humphries come in yet, Tom f 
 
 " Long time, sir : he gone ober to Wolf island wid de major 
 bout two hours go, and muss be coming back directly; and, 
 jist I speak, look at em, coming yonder, by de big gum !" 
 
 " I see ! I see ! I must consult Humphries. You may go 
 now, Tom, and see after your own dinner. I feel hungry, 
 myself, in anticipation of a march that I feel that we shall be 
 called upon to make hurriedly. Yet IIOAV to march if Nabob 
 dies, it is difficult to conceive. Tom, unless you have some 
 peculiar delicacy, you need prepare no dinner for me. That 
 beast s misery won t suffer me to eat. Go and see to him, 
 Tom, and report to me how he gets on now." 
 
 Tom disappeared, and our fat friend rose from his sitting 
 posture with the air of a man who had no longer any uses in 
 the world. lie was sufficiently sad to be thought melancholy, 
 and half suspected it himself. 
 
 41 D n the poor beast," he muttered as he went; " I O&w t 
 
THE HALF-BREED IS WINDED. 157 
 
 bear to look at him. I can t bear to look at the sufferings 
 I can t help. If by a fierce wrestle now, a hand-tc-^and iight 
 with an enemy, or even a match-race on fcofc w*.*h an Indian 
 runner, I could do the creature a service, I could go to wor& 
 cheerfully. Any physical or mental axertion now no mat 
 ter of what sort that would do him good, I would undertake 
 with a sort of satisfaction. But only to look on, and do noth 
 ing, sickens me ; it may be because I raised the rascally beast 
 myself!" 
 
 Thus muttering to himself as he went, our epicurean move-d 
 slowly along by the several groups, taking the route toward 
 Humphries, who was seen approaching on the edge of the island. 
 The philosopher was too sad to enjoy the sports of others at 
 this moment. But his boon companions, who knew his usual 
 humors, and seldom witnessed his exceptional turns, were not 
 disposed to permit his unnoticed progress. A dozen voices 
 challenged his attention from all sides, all anxious to secure 
 the company of a good companion. 
 
 "I say, Lieutenant Lieutenant Porgy. This way." 
 
 "And this way," cried another and another. 
 
 In all tncse cries, Porgy fancied there was something of an 
 official tone, and he answered one for all. 
 
 " How now, you unfeeling brutes? What are you howling 
 about, at such a rate 1 Have you no sensibility? Must the 
 dying agonies of the poor beast be disturbed by such horrible 
 sounds as issue from such monstrous throats? or do you sup 
 pose me deaf? Say Avhat you want. From whom come you? 
 Speak out, and do not. think me so dcnf as indifferent. I 
 would not hearken, but that you compel me to hear, and will 
 hardly heed unless you speak in more subdued accents. You 
 will crack the drum of my ear by such howlings !" 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 " What a damnable chorus !" muttered the philosopher. " Ar.3 
 this disrespect is the fruit of my good nature. Familiarity 
 breeds contempt. He who sleeps with a puppy is sure of fleas. 
 Now, all because of my taking these rascals into my me=:- ".nd 
 treating them like gentlemen, do they presume to howl, and 
 shout, and yell in my ears, as if they were so many bed fell ^wcl 
 
MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 Well, Mr. Masoi :, wha* is it you would say? Speak out and 
 kave done with it. A short horse is soon curried." 
 
 Dick M. as:u Bowled sulkily at the reflection upon Ins 
 -dwarfish size. He was the monster in little of the camp, be 
 ing but four feet eight. 
 
 "Why, lieutenant," said he, "you re mighty cross to-day." 
 " Cross ! And w^ .i 1 maybe, since here s Nabob, my nag, 
 as fine an animal as man would wish to cross, racked with all 
 the spasms of an infernal colic ! Tell me what I can do for 
 H w.y if not, hold your peace, and go to the devil without 
 bothering me with your sense of what is due to your master." 
 "Your horse! what, Nabob?" with interest. 
 " Yes ! my horse ! Nabob !" pertinently. 
 
 Give him red pepper tea !" said one. 
 1 Sojt and salt !" cried another. 
 " Gunpowder and rum !" a third. 
 : Turpentine and castor oil !" a fourth. 
 
 " A feed of pine burrs is the very best remedy, lieutenant," 
 said a fifth. 
 
 Other suggestions followed, half in jest, half in earnest, until 
 the angry lieutenant, seizing one of the party by the hair of 
 his head with one hand, and snatching up a cudgel with the 
 other, was preparing to make a signal example of the one of 
 fender, for the benefit of the now dispersing group, when Hum 
 phries seized him from behind, and drew, for a brief moment, 
 the fury of the epicure upon himself. 
 
 "Who dares?" he demanded, wheeling about 
 " Why, you re as full of fight as a spring teriapn; of 
 eggs." 
 
 "The comparison saves you a cudgeling, Bill Humphries, 
 though you half deserve it for saving these rascals. They ve 
 been jeering me, the heartless blackguards, about the condi 
 tion of my horse, who s dying of colic!" 
 " Colic ! do you say ? Is he bad off." 
 " He s no horse if lie isn t. Bad ns he can be ! So bad, that 
 ev3n Torn prescribes Oakenburcr** 1 
 
 O 
 
 " Or.r.".-iiburg will kill him, if lie undertakes the cure. But 
 ihere s a ^a:i!.v, jockey hero, that s famous as a horse doctor. 
 
THE FIALF-BRKKI) T3 WINDED. 159 
 
 Ba ho ! Hero,! Tom Jennings," calling to a lauksided sand 
 lapper, "be off quickly, and hunt up Zekc Turpin, and send 
 him here. Tell him that Lieutenant Porgy s horse has coli . 
 from eating- his master s dinner by mistake." 
 
 "Ah ! villain, you take advantage of my grief/ said Por^y. 
 with an effort to smile. 
 
 " He ll cure it if anybody can ! So give yourself no con 
 cern. Only, you must put yourself in readiness Tis soon as 
 possible. That s the order now." 
 
 " What s to he done, Humphries?* 
 
 " Work ! Fight s the word !" 
 
 " Fight ! With whom now 1" 
 
 " The tories !" 
 
 " The tories ! Whereabouts do they gather?" 
 
 " At Sinkler s meadow, where there s to be a mighty gathei- 
 ing. They are promised arms and ammunition from the city 
 We are to have warm work, they tell us, for "here s to be a 
 smart chance of the rascals together; but devil take the odds. 
 The job will pay for itself, Porgy, since they re to have a bar 
 becue and plenty of rum." 
 
 "Ah, ha! That s encouraging as a pros} oct, Mumphries , 
 and now the. question is, whether we shall let Jiem feed be 
 fore we fight them, or fight them before they feed." 
 
 "I don t see why that should be a question. We ve got to 
 fight them as soon as we can get a chance at them, and 
 whether before or after the barbecue don t matter very much. " 
 
 "An opinion that argues great simplicity on the part of 
 Lieutenant Humphries," was the reply of Porgy. "The dif 
 ference is vastly material to our interest,"., and ought to govern 
 our policy. If we let them feed before we fight them, we shall 
 finl them easier customers, since every third man will be 
 biirely urunk, and no second man sober." 
 
 "Well, there s something in that, certainly," said Hum 
 phries. 
 
 " Ay, true ; but look at the other side. If we fight them 
 before we suffer them to feed, wo shall have the greater spoil 
 since barbecued beef and Jamaica, which have been already 
 consumed by a hundred or two starving tories, is so much 
 
160 
 
 MKLLICHAMFK. 
 
 dear loss to our commissariat. I^ow, Bill, I m for the tougher 
 iob of the two the harder fighting and the greater saving. 
 The wretches! only to think that they aie to have a barbe 
 cue, while we arc compelled to eat Torn, what are we com 
 pelled to eat ? what have you got for dinner, to-day, old fel 
 
 Tom reappeared in season to answer. 
 
 " Wha for dinner ! Huh ! Hab some tripe, sah, and h m ; - 
 ny, and bile acorns." 
 
 " Tripe, hommony, and boiled acorns ! And they to have a 
 barbecue ! Roast beef a whole ox stall-fed, no doubt ! 
 and a puncheon of Jamaica ! Ah ! Humphries, it is a prob 
 lem which none of us can solve. There seems to be soi.ic- 
 thing unreasonable in this partial distribution of the gifts of 
 Providence, ilbs a cory a better stomach than a patriot? Is 
 his taste more iifined and intellectual? Does he need mors 
 fuel for his furnr.co f Are his nervous energies more exhaust 
 ing ! Are his virl-os higher ? Has he the right of the politi 
 cal argument? .in other words, ought we to prefer George the 
 Third to the Continental Congress, for that is the question 
 that naturary occurs to us when we find the tories better sup 
 plied with the creature comforts than ourselves." 
 
 "Well, Porgy, that s certainly a new view of the case." 
 
 " Truly ; but I see how it s to be answered, without a sacri 
 fice of principle. The rascals have the good things, Bill; but 
 shall they be allowed to keep em ? That s the question. On 
 the contrary, they are but so many agents of Providence, in 
 gathering and getting ready the feast for us. We shall spoil 
 the Egyptians, Bill; we shall be able to come upon them 
 .-.hall we not? before they shall have touched the meat. I 
 like vastly to take a first cut at a barbecue. The nice gravy 
 is then delicious. After a dozen slashes have been made in it, 
 it, imbibes a smoky flavor which I do not relish. We must 
 come upon them, Bill, when everything s ready, but before 
 they have made the first cut." 
 
 " Right ! but I m afraid you ll not bo in time for the cut, liea 
 teimnt," said Humphries gravely. 
 
 " And why not, pray T 
 
THE HALF-BREED IS WINDED. 1C1 
 
 "T<rc: horse!" 
 
 " Ah, that I should have forgotten the poor beast, thinking 
 of the barbecue. Tom, how s Nabob now ?" 
 
 Torn shook his head deplorably. 
 
 " Ah ! well, I suppose I shall have to lose him. I must 
 leave him with your Santee jockey, Bill, and see what he can 
 do for him. But to that barbecue I ll go ! Flat ! I ll bor 
 row the nag of that old German that s sick old " 
 
 "Feutbaer! Well, he ll carry you safe enough; it will be 
 for the tories to say if he will bring you back. Bui what s 
 this? ha!" 
 
 Humphries started as the two approached the litt iw hollcw 
 in which Torn carried on his preparations for the humbio meal 
 of the squad for which he provided. The trooper celaed a 
 rifle that stood against a tree beside him, and lifted it instan 
 taneously to his eye. The muzzle of it rested upon trs 
 strange dog that burrowed amid the offal strewn about tha 
 place, unnoticed by the busy cook who purveyed for him 
 Porgy was about to declare his wonderment at the sudden 
 ferocity of mood exhibited by his companion, when, motioning 
 him to be silent, the trooper lowered the weapon, and called 
 to John Davis, who was approaching at a little distance. 
 
 "Davis," said he, as the other came near, "do you ki.ow 
 that dog r 
 
 "I think I do; but where I ve seen him I can t say. I m 
 sure I know him." 
 
 " Is it possible ? exclaimed Humphries, somewhat impa 
 tiently, " that you should any of you fail to remember the 
 brute ? What do you say, Tom ? Don t you know the dog?" 
 
 This was addressed to the negro in tones that startled him. 
 
 He face is berry familiar to me, Massa Bill," returned Tom 
 after a pause, in which he seemed to study the matter with 
 grave severity ; "he face is berry familiar to me, cept he aVt 
 bin wash em much. But I loss de recollection ob de name 
 for ebber. 
 
 " But why the devil," quoth Porgy, " should that dirty- 
 looking beast so much interest you ? Positively, you are all 
 in a stew and sweat." 
 
163 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 " And well I iney be i c all s true that I suspect. I m a 
 marked in a !" 
 
 " A marked man ! yc^ re dreaming ! What do you mean V 
 
 " I can not be mistaken, Porgy. That is the cur of Mother 
 Blbna^ Goggle s mother and the blear-eyed rascal must 
 be, eve.ii now, in this very neighborhood." 
 
 " Do yon think so, Bill?" demanded Davis. 
 
 " Thir.V EC 1 I know it, if I know the dog. If that be the 
 same brute, Blonay s here at hand in this very swamp ; 
 and we a:e hunted ! / am hunted ! The rascal s on my trail. 
 He seeks my life." 
 
 Thic v/as a serious suggestion, the importance of which was 
 instanVy felt by all the group. If such a scout as Blonay 
 ,verc .*&< lly on the trail of Humphries, there was not a moment 
 in w*..ieh his life was secure. There was no path which he 
 ovld pursue in safety ; every bush might give forth the 
 oullet, every tree-top, or hollow, or gulley, or bay, or swamp- 
 border, send forth its sudden messenger of death. The assas 
 sin in the scout, and on trail, presents to the imagination of 
 the woodman as complete an idea of danger and terror as it 
 belongs to the human mind to conceive. But Humphries, 
 IviDUfh rendered very serious by his conjectures, was not ap 
 plied, or deprived by his apprehensions of the first attributes 
 of manhood thought and decision. 
 
 " We are hunted," he continued, after closely scrutinizing 
 the dog, " I am now sure of it. Goggle s in this very place, 
 and the bead of his rifle, no doubt ranging, some hundred yards 
 off, upon some one of this party. But don t look up or 
 around," said he quickly, seeing that his companions Avere 
 about to let their eyes and gestures betray their curiosity. 
 " Do not look, or start, or seem curious. If he be here, as I 
 believe, we must not suffer him to suppose that his presence is 
 suspected. We must play a scout-game with the rascal; while 
 we are all here together, he will scarcely trouble one of us. 
 He will watch his opportunity to find me alone, for I am sure 
 that I am the one he seeks." 
 
 " But," said Porgy, " even if this be the rascal s dog, and 
 it has a sufficiently rascally look to be so, why should that 
 
THE HALF-BREED IS WINDED. 163 
 
 prove the master to be present ? The brute may have 
 
 strayed." 
 
 " No ! such a creature never strays. He can t do without 
 his master. He is a part of him. But let us see, now, if the 
 animal can be made to seek his master. "Tom!" to the 
 negro. 
 
 Tom had been listening curiously. He answered promptly. 
 The dog meanwhile, with his nose about the fires, had been 
 picking up bones and scraps the remnants of the feast. 
 
 " Tom, hit the dog a smart stroke suddenly with your stick 
 a blow not to hurt him much, but to scare him, and make him 
 run. Do you, Davis, move to the edge of the creek, and watch 
 him well as he runs. If he lacks a master, he will dodge 
 about the island. If he has left him anywhere about, he will 
 make off in that direction. Then we shall see what route to 
 take, and, with half-a-dozen of us on his track, we may make 
 out to cross his path, and cut him off from escape. Keep your 
 eyes about you, Davis." 
 
 Davis proceeded in one direction, Two other persons were 
 despatched quietly to place themselves in watch upon other 
 parts of the island overlooking the swamp. Humphries him 
 self prepared to dash forward in a third direction, equidistant 
 from these. Tom, in the meanwhile, with a stick concealed 
 behind him, was sidling forward to a nearer acquaintance with 
 the ck)g, who, unsuspicious of the designs upon him and greedy 
 for food, was still busy, with nose prying into pots, pans, and 
 kettles. All the parties were prepared, and Humphries gave 
 a sign to Tom to proceed, as soon as possible, to his part of the 
 performance. The negro watched his opportunity, and, soon 
 after, with right good will, he laid the flail over the back of the 
 obtrusive animal. At the smart and unexpected salutation, 
 the dog, with a yell, darted back howling into the swamp ; 
 taking, as Humphries had calculated, the very route over which 
 he came, and toward the spot where he had left his master. 
 Humphries, and the .companions whom he had selected, at 
 once dashed off in pursuit. 
 
 But Blonay was not to be caught napping. He had one 
 chief merit of a scout indeed, it was his only merit he 
 
1G4: MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 never trusted himself within smell and sound of an enemy s 
 camp, without keeping his wits well about him. He had 
 marked well the party on the island ; had seen the movement 
 of Humphries toward the dog ; beheld his rifle uplifted, and 
 pointed for a moment at the head of the animal; arid readily 
 divined the motives which induced his enemy to forbear shoot 
 ing him, and which finally led to the movement which had been 
 subsequently conceived and acted upon. The great secret in 
 stratagem is to give your enemy credit for an ingenuity and 
 enterprise which are at least equal to your own. Blonay had 
 readily conceived the plan which he himself would pursue in 
 a situation such as that of Humphries. He acted accordingly, 
 felt his own danger, and at once proceeded to a change of 
 ground. 
 
 Leaving the advanced position from which he had watched 
 Ihe camp, and running in a straight line about fifty yards above, 
 he then turned suddenly about and kept a forward course in 
 the direction of the spot at which he had first entered the 
 swamp. But he did not take these precautions without some 
 doubts of their adequacy to his concealment. He muttered, 
 to himseif, his apprehensions of the keen scent of the dog, 
 whirh lie feared would too quickly find out his track, and lead 
 his pursuers upon it; and, though he doubted not that he 
 should be able to get out of the swamp before any of those 
 after him, he was yet fully aware of the utter impossibility of 
 escaping them on the high road, should any of them mount in 
 pursuit. 
 
 Though a hardy and fast animal, his pony was quite too 
 small to overcome space very rapidly; and the determination 
 of Blonay was soon made, if he could mislead the dog, to seek 
 a hiding-place in the swamp, which, from its great extent and 
 impervious density in many places, he knew would conceal 
 him, for a time, from any force which the partisans might send, 
 lie hurried on, therefore, taking the water at every oppor 
 tunity, and leaving as infrequent a track as possible behind 
 him. But he fled in vain from the sagacious and true scent of 
 his dog. From place to place, true in every change, the cur 
 kept on after him, giving forth, as he fled, an occasional yelp 
 
THE HALF-BKEED IS WINDED. 165 
 
 o* dissatisfaction or chagrin, as much probably on account of 
 tha beating he had received as from not finding his master. 
 
 " Adrat the pup there s no losing him. Now, if I had my 
 b.and on him, I should knife him, and that s the only way. 
 jile ll bring em on me, at last, ef I don t." 
 
 The half-breed thus muttered, as the bark of the dog on the 
 new trail which he had made, attested the success with which 
 ha pursued him. Blonay rose upon a stump, and distinctly 
 beheld the head of Humphries, rising above a fallen log ; the 
 proprietor of it, led and excited by the cries of the dog, pres 
 sing forward with surprising energy, though still at a con 
 siderable distance behind. Blonay murmured to himself, as 
 he watched his enemy : 
 
 "I can hit him now it s not two hundred yards, and I ve 
 ii.lv a smaller mark than that so fur, before now." 
 
 _lnd, as he spoke, he lifted his rifle, cocked it, and raised it 
 to his eye, where it rested for a few seconds; but Humphries 
 was now covered by a tree. The dog came on, and Blonay 
 distinguished the voices of the pursuers, and that of Humphries 
 in particular, urging the chase with words of encouragement. 
 Unseen himself, he now took a certain aim at the head of the 
 lieutenant ; another moment and he must have fired ; but, just 
 then, he beheld the figure of Davis pressing through the brush, 
 at a point higher up than the rest, and seemingly bent on 
 making a circuit, which would enable him to get between their 
 present position and the fugitive s only outlet. 
 
 To merely kill his victim, and to run the risk cf perishing 
 himself, was not the desire of the half-breed. His Indian 
 blood took its vengeance on safer terms. He slowly uncocked 
 the rifle, let it fall from his shoulder, and once more set off in 
 flight, taking now a course parallel with that which l*e beheld 
 John Davis pursuing. His object was to reach the same point; 
 and he could only do so, in good time to escape, by keeping 
 the direct route upon which he now found himself. 
 
 At this moment his dog came up with him. He Avas about 
 to plunge into a puddle of mixed mire and water. The faith 
 ful animal, unconscious of the danger in which he had involved 
 his master, uow leaped fondly upon him; testifying his joy at 
 
166 MKLLICIIAMPE. 
 
 finding him by wantonly yelping at the highsal pitch of L!a 
 voice, and assailing him with the most uiK.cu Ji caresses, which 
 added to his annoyance by impeding his flight. His clamors 
 also guided the pursuers upon the true path of the fugitive, 
 and would continue to guide them. The moment was full of 
 peril, and everything depended upon his decision. The savage 
 and ready mood of the half-breed did not long delay in . 
 moment of such necessity. Muttering to himsolf, in few words, 
 bis chagrin, he grasped the dog firmly by the back of his neelr, 
 and, as the skin was tightly drawn upon tho throat, with & 
 quick movement of his hand he passed the keen blade of h.ra 
 knife but once over it, and thrust the body from him in the 
 ooze. 
 
 With a single cry and a brief struggle, the animal la;y de^ 
 in the pr.tli of the pursuers. Hurriedly sending the knife bac- 
 into its sheath, the savage resumed the rifle which, while he 
 slew the dog, he had leaned against a cypress ; and, seemingly 
 without compunction, he a^ain set forward. 
 
 His flight was now far less desperate, since his pursuers had 
 no longer the keen faculties of the dog to scent for them the 
 path, and his clamorous yelp to guide them upon it ; and, with 
 a more perfect steadiness, Blonay pushed onward until he 
 gained a small, though impenetrable cane-brake. This he 
 soor. rounded, and it now lay between him and his enemies 
 Taking to the water whenever it came in his way, he left but 
 few traces of his route behind him ; and to find these, at inter 
 vals, n< cessarily impeded the pursuers. When, at length, they 
 reached the pond in which he had slain his dog, and beheld 
 the body of their guide before them, they saw that the pursuit 
 was almost hopeless. 
 
 " Look? here !" exclaimed Humphries to the rest, as they 
 ever ally came up to the spot. " Look here ! the skunk, you 
 .<ce, has been mighty hard pushed, and can t be far off; but 
 tl.ere s no great chance of finding him now. It s like hunting 
 ai-cr a needle in a haystack. So long as we had the dog there 
 w.-j something to go by, for the beast would find his master 
 tf. Jllgli thick and thin, and we should have got up with him 
 so <) time or other. Goggle knew that: and he s done the 
 
THE HAJ w-^KKKU IS V INDED. 167 
 
 only thing that could have saved him He s a scout among a 
 thousand that same Goggle; and no money, if we had it, 
 ought to be stinted to get him on oui nde. But he knows the 
 difference between guineas and cou* mental paper; and, so 
 long as Proctor pays him .well with tha one, he d be a mighty 
 tool, being what he is, to bother himself about the other." 
 
 At that moment the shrill sounds of the trumpet came to 
 them from the camp, and put an end to the pursuit, as it com 
 manded their presence for other duties. 
 
 "There s the trumpet, boys; we must put back. We can t 
 stop to bother any longer with a single man ; and so little 
 chance, too, of our catching him. We ve got ether work. The 
 general, you must know, is getting ready for a nrusii with the 
 tories ; and we have permission to lick them well to-morrow 
 at Sinkler s Meadow. If we do we shall a!i get rich; foi 
 Barsfield, they say, is to meet them there with a grand supply 
 of shoes and blankets, muskets and swords, tind a tnousand 
 other matters besides, which they ve got and we want. We 
 must get back at once; and yet, boys, it goes against me to 
 leave this scoundrel in the SAY am p." 
 
 But there they were compelled to leave J m in perfect 
 security. The half-breed reached his pony, wLi i ne mounted 
 at once and proceeded on his return. He had I : reason to be 
 dissatisfied with events. He had tracked his uierny, though 
 his .vengeance was still unsatisfied ; he had louno. out the 
 secret pass to the rebel camp, and he estimited mgnly the 
 value of the discovery. 
 
MKLLIUHAMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIA. 
 
 THE GAME AFOOT. 
 
 THE stirring tones of the trumpet, a long and lively peal, 
 resounded through the swamp. Its summons was never un 
 heeded by the men of Marion. They gathered on all hands, 
 and from every quarter of its comprehensive recesses. From 
 the hammock where they slept, from the lakelet where they 
 fished, from the green where they leaped the frog, hurled the 
 bar, or wrestled in emulous sport, in all the buoyancy of full 
 life and conscious strength. They were soon thick around the 
 person of the partisan, and nothing for some time could be 
 heard but the busy hum, the mingling voices of the crowd, in 
 all the confusion of that sort of preparation and bustle which 
 usually precedes the long march and anticipated conflict. 
 
 But the quick, sharp, yet IOAV tones of the " swamp-fox" 
 soon reduced to silence the commotion, and brought to sym 
 metry and order all that was confusion before. His words 
 were powerful, as they were uttered in a voice of unquestion 
 able command, and with that unhesitating decision which, as 
 it comrjfcls respect from the foe, is always sure to secure con 
 fidence in the follower. Strange that, in domestic life, and in 
 moments of irresponsible and unexciting calm, usually dis 
 tinguished by a halting and ungraceful hesitation of manner, 
 which materially took from the dignity of his deportment, it 
 was far otherwise when he came to command and in the hour 
 of collision. He possessed a wonderful elasticity of character, 
 which was never so apparent as when in the time of danger. 
 At such periods there w r as a lively piny of expression in his 
 countenance, denoting a cool and fearless spirit. His manner 
 now was marked by this elasticity ; and, instead of anticipated 
 
THE GAME AFOOT. 169 
 
 battle, one might have imagined that he was about to promise 
 to his men the relaxation and the delights of a festival. But 
 the sagacious among them knew better. They had seen 
 him drinking vinegar and water his favorite beverage in 
 greater quantities than usual ; and they knew, from old ex 
 perience, that a rapid march and a fierce struggle were at 
 band. 
 
 Well, gentlemen," said Marion, seeing his officers and 
 favorite men all around him, " if you are as tired of the swamp 
 as I am, you will rejoice at the news I bring you. We are 
 now to leave it." 
 
 " Whither now, general ?" asked Horry. 
 
 "Ah, that indeed is the question. We must leave it first. 
 That, gentlemen, is the requisition of our old friend Captain 
 Barsfield, of his majesty s loyalists, who is n,ow mustering in 
 force around us. He has instructions to set dog upon dog, and 
 hunt us out with our hounds of neighbors the tories. It is 
 for you to say whether we shall stand and wait their coming, 
 or give them the trouble of hunting the empty swamp after us 
 I am for leaving them the ground, and looking out for other 
 quarters and a better business." 
 
 Cries of "No, no let us meet them let us not fly from 
 any tory !" were heard on all hands; and Horry, Singleton, 
 and sundry others of the most favored officers, seriously inter 
 posed with suggestions of their strength, and the ability and 
 willingness of the men to fight. The partisan smiled pleas 
 antly as he listened to their suggestions." 
 
 " You mistake me somewhat, gentlemen," was his quiet arid 
 general reply ; " you mistake me much ; and I rejoice that you 
 do so, as I am now so much the better satisfied that your views 
 and feelings accord with my own. To leave the swamp does 
 not mean to fly from the enemy. Oh, no ! I propose, on the 
 contrary, that we should leave the swamp in order to seek the 
 enemy before he shall be altogether ready for us. Why should 
 we wait until he has brought his men together] why wait 
 until the tories from Waccainaw come in to swell the number 
 of our own rascals from Williamsburg 1 and why, of all things, 
 wait until Captain Barsfield brings his baggage-wagons with 
 
supplies to glut these gre.Vy wretches who expect them 1 I 
 see no reason for this." 
 
 "No, no, general," wais he response; "we are ready for 
 them we need not wait." 
 
 "Very well, gentlemen, as you say we need not wait; 
 and, supposing that such would be your determination, I have 
 wlready completed my arrangements for departure. We shall 
 move off with midnight ; and it is expected, gentlemen, that 
 you so speed in your duties as to suffer no delay after that 
 period in your departure. Colonel Horry will have his squad 
 in readiness to move with me upon Sinkler s meadow, where we 
 must take post before the tories. The route and general o?- 
 ders he will find in this paper. Singleton " 
 
 The chief led the young officer aside. 
 
 " Singleton, I have special work for you, which calls for all 
 your activity. Take your whole corps of riflemen, and select 
 your horses. Leave to Captain Melton all those of your men 
 who are most cumbrous or may least be relied upon. The duty 
 is too important to be intrusted to clumsy fingers." 
 
 Singleton bowed, and Marion continued : 
 
 " Proceed up the river road to Brooks mills, and secure the 
 detachment which Watson has placed there. Let none of them 
 escape, if you can, to carry news across the river. Let your 
 return be by daylight, and then take the road toward Berke 
 ley s place, where Barsiield has found lodgings. He will move 
 to-morrow, with the sun, on tho route to Sinkler s meadow. He 
 must be met and beaten at all hazards. I will despatch Cap 
 tain Melton with thirty men for this purpose ; and, in order to 
 make certain, as soon as you have surprised the guard at 
 Brooks , you will push down toward Berkeley s, Kaddipah, or 
 iii whatever quarter Barsfield may go. Melton probably will 
 do the business; but, as it will be in your subsequent route, 
 you may as well prepare to co-operate with him, should you 
 be in season. We must keep Barsfield from joining these to 
 ries, upon whom 1 shall most probably fall by mid-day. You 
 may find this a somewhat difficult matter, as Barsfield fights 
 well, and is something of a soldier. You must surprise him if 
 you can. This done, you will proceed to scour the upper road 
 
THE GAME AFOOT. 171 
 
 with as much rapidity as comports with caution. The scouts 
 bring me word of a corps in that quarter, which can be no other 
 than Tarleton s. This scrawl, too, comes from that dear old 
 granny, Mother Dyson, who lives near Monk s Corner. Heir 
 what the good old creature says : 
 
 " DARE GIN RAL : There s a power of red-coats jist guine 
 down by the back lane into your parts, and they do tell that 
 it s arter you they re guine. They re dressed mighty fine, and 
 has a heap of guns and horses, and as much .provisions as the 
 wagons can tote. I makes bold to tell you this, gin ral, that 
 you may smite them, hip and thigh, even as the Israelites 
 smote the bloody Philistians in the blessed book. And so, no 
 more, dare gin ral, from your sarvant to command, 
 
 " * BETSY DYSON. 
 
 " *N. B. Don t you pay the barer, gin ral, for he s owing 
 me a power of money, and he s agreed with me that what I 
 gives him for guine down to you is to come out of what lie 
 owes me. He s a good man enough, and is no tory, but he 
 a n t quite given to speaking the truth always; and I m sorry 
 to tell you, gin ral, that, in spite of all I says to him, he don t 
 mend a bit. " B. D. 
 
 " Quite a characteristic epistle, Singleton, and from as true 
 a patriot as ever lived that same old Betsy Dyson. These 
 troops must be Tarleton s, and I doubt not that he moves with 
 the entire legion. He has pledged himself to Cornwallis to 
 force me to a fight, and he comes to redeem his pledge. This 
 we must avoid, and we must therefore hurry to put these tories 
 out of the way before they can co-operate with the legion. I 
 will see to them. When you have done with Barsfield, should 
 Melton not have struck before you reach him, you will take 
 t!i? upper track until you find Tarleton. But you are to risk 
 nothing: we can not hope to light him, even with our whole 
 present force, and you must risk nothing with your little squad. 
 You must only hang about him, secure intelligence of all his 
 movements, and, where opportunities occur, obstruct his steps, 
 and cut off such of his detachmenta as come within your reach 
 
172 MKJ.LICUAMPE. 
 
 You can worry the advance, and throw them back upon the 
 foot, for their horses will not hold a leg with the meanest of 
 your troop. We want time, and this will give it to us : and 
 none of these risks should be taken unless you encounter the 
 legion before sunset to-morrow. After that, you are simply to 
 watch and report their movements. Should I succeed in the 
 attack at Sinkler s to-morrow, you will find me at the ferry at 
 midnight. Should you not, take it as a proof of my failure, 
 and look for me at Snow s island." 
 
 A few other minor suggestions completed Singleton s com 
 mission ; and Marion proceeded, in like manner, to detail to 
 every officer, intrusted with command, the duties which were 
 before him. With Colonel Horry s squad, he took to himself 
 the task of routing the tories at Sinkler s meadow. Twenty 
 men, under Captain James, he despatched to waylay the road 
 leading from Waccamaw, over which another small body of 
 tories was expected to pass ; and, this done, the rest of the 
 day was devoted by all parties to preparations for the move 
 ment of the night. 
 
 Promptness was one of the first principles in Marion s war 
 fare. With the approach of evening, the several corps pre 
 pared for their departure. Saddles were taken from the trees, 
 on whose branches they had hung suspended all around the 
 camp ; steeds were brought forward from the little recesses 
 where they browsed upon the luxuriant cane-tops ; swords 
 waved in the declining sunset; bugles sounded from each se 
 lected station, where it had been the habit for the several 
 squads to congregate ; and, as the sun went really down behind 
 the thick forest, the camp was soon clear of all the active life 
 which it possessed before. All who were able were away on 
 their several duties ; and but a few, the invalids and supernu 
 meraries alone, remained to take charge of themselves and the 
 furniture of the encampment. 
 
 Our fat friend, Lieutenant Porgy, had a narrow chance of 
 being left. Were we to consider his bulk simply, he might 
 have been classed with those Avhom Marion spoke of as quite 
 too " cumbrous" for movement. But his energy and impulse 
 were more than a match for his bulk. Still, the best will and 
 
THE GAME AFOOT. 173 
 
 blood are not proof against the decrees of fate ; and while Marion 
 was yet giving his orders, Tom reported to liis master the death 
 of the horse Nabob. The epicure was for a moment overcome. 
 He proceeded, however, with commendable promptness, to 
 what was styled, par courtesie, the hospital, where Fentbaer, 
 the German, lay sick. From him he proposed to borrow his 
 hor.se. But, even while negotiating with the sick man, Tom 
 entered with great outcry and much rejoicing, conducting a 
 sergeant, who brought with him a fine horse, and a message 
 from Singleton, begging Porgy to use him until a better steed 
 could be captured from the enemy. The animal brought him 
 was a noble bay, one of a pair, and Porgy was not the man to 
 underrate a generosity so unusual as well as handsome. Of 
 course, he accepted the gift, and was lavish of thanks. But 
 he said to Humphries, with a sigh : " A handsome present, 
 Bill ; our major is the man to do handsome things. This is a 
 very fine animal, an ! just suits me perhaps even better than 
 Nabob ; but Nabob was a sort of half-brother to me, Bill. I 
 raised the ridiculous beast myself." 
 
 Humphries thought the use of the word "ridiculous" rather 
 an abuse of language, but it was employed for a purpose 
 was in fact designed to conceal a sentiment. When, half an 
 hour after, Porgy beheld Tom stretching the skin of poor Na 
 bob in the sun, he felt like cudgelling the negro, whom lie 
 called *an inhuman beast. 
 
 " Why," he asked, furiously, " why did you skin the animal, 
 you savage ?" 
 
 " Oh ! maussa, kaise I lub em so ! Nabob and me guine to 
 sleep togedder a ter this, for ebber and for ebbermore." 
 
 Tom was even more " an old soldier" than his master. Por 
 gy growled 
 
 " Some day that will be the scoundrel s apology for skinning 
 me!" 
 
 But we are not permitted to linger over the mere humors of 
 our partisans. Let us leave them for a space, and look after 
 the half-breed Blonay. Relieved from the hot pursuit which 
 had been urged after him, he relaxed in the rapidity of his 
 movements, and made his way with more composure out of the 
 
174 
 
 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 swamp. He had not slain his enemy, it is true ; but he had 
 been quite as successful in discovering the place of his retreat 
 as his most sanguine hopes had predicted. He had not merely 
 seen his particular foe, and found out his hiding-place, but he 
 had discovered the passage to one of those secret haunts of the 
 " swamp-fox," the knowledge of which, he doubted not, would 
 bring him a handsome reward from the British officers, to whom 
 Marion was becoming, daily, more and more an object of hos 
 tile consideration. Satisfied, therefore, with the result of his 
 expedition, though lamenting the unavoidable sacrifice which 
 he had made of his dog his last friend, his only companion 
 he at once took his way back to " Piney Grove," where he 
 hoped to meet with Barsfield. It was not long before he stood 
 before the tory, who led him away at once into the woods, 
 anxious, from his intense hate to Mellichampe, to learn how 
 far the half-breed had been successful in his search. 
 
 " Well, what have you done ? what have you seen ? Have 
 you found the trail, Lion ay ? Have you discovered the hiding- 
 place of this reptile these reptiles ?" 
 
 " Well, cappin, there s no saying for certain, when you re 
 upon the trail of a good woodman. He s everywhere, and 
 then agin he s nowhere. Sometimes he s in one place, some 
 times in another; and sometimes it a n t three minutes differ 
 ence that he don t have a change. Now the swamp -fox is 
 famous for drawing stakes, and going there s no telling where." 
 
 " True, true, I know all that. But it s for a good scout to 
 find him out, and track him through all his changes. Now, 
 what have you done in your search ? You have seen your 
 enemy, have you not ? Where have you left him ? and, above 
 all, have you seen that boy he whom, of all others, I would 
 have you see ? What of Mellichampe 1" 
 
 " I seed him, cappin, but mighty far off I know d him from 
 what you tell d me I can t be mistaken." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " But, cappin, there s a mighty heap of men with Marion- 
 more than a hundred." 
 
 " Impossible ! you dream !" responded the tory in astonish 
 naent. 
 
THE GAME AFOOT. 175 
 
 " It s a gospel truth, sir, and tlicy looked quite sprigli ; ana 
 the trumpet blowed, and there was a great gathering. They 
 had a fine chance of horses, too some of the finest I ever 
 laid eyes on." 
 
 " Ha, indeed ! This will be work for Tarleton, who must 
 now be at hand. From Monk s Corner to Smoot s, thirty 
 m il es then here he should be here to-morrow noon, and 1 
 must hurry with the dawn for Sinkler s yes it must be at 
 daylight" 
 
 The tory thus muttered to himself, and the half-breed duly 
 treasured up ever) syllable. The speaker proceeded again, 
 addressing his companion 
 
 "Tiswell you have managed handsomely, Blonay ; but 
 you have not yet said where the gathering took place. Tell 
 rne the route you took, and give me a full description of the 
 spot itself, and all particulars of your adventure." 
 
 But the half-breed, though exhorted thus, was in no hasto 
 to yield any particulars to Barsfield. The casual reference to 
 Tarleton s approach, which had fallen from the tory s lips in 
 his brief soliloquy, had determined Blonay to keep his secret 
 for one who would most probably pay him better ; and, though 
 he replied to, he certainly cUrl net slower, the question of his 
 present employer. 
 
 " Well, sow, cappin> there *? m- telling how to find the place 
 I went to. There s so many crooks and turns so many ins 
 and ouii 1 ," so many ups and downs, that it s all useless to talk 
 about it. It s only nose and eye that can track it out for you ; 
 for, besides that I don t know the names of any places in these 
 parts, I cou.ld only find it myself by putting my foot along the 
 track, and taking hold of the bushes which I broke mysell 
 I could tell you that you must take the road back to the left, 
 then strike across the old field to the right, then you come to 
 a little bay, and you go round that till you fall into a little 
 path, that leads you into the thick wood ; then you keep a lit 
 tle to the left agin, and you go on in this way a full quarter 
 before you come out into a valley ; then " 
 
 "Enough, enough such a direction would baffle the best 
 cout along the Santee. We must even trust to your own eyes 
 
176 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 in(l feet when the time comes to hunt these reptiles, and I 
 trust that your memory will not fail you then." 
 
 4< Never fear, cappin," responded the other, agreeably satis 
 fied to be let off so easily from a more precise description of 
 the route which he had taken. It is probable that, with a 
 greater force than that which he commanded, and which was 
 entirely inadequate to any such enterprise, Barsfield, solicitous 
 of distinction, and seeking after his foe, would have compelled 
 the guidance of Blonay, and gone himself after the "swamp- 
 fox." As matters stood, however, he determined to pursue his 
 old bent, and, seeking his tories at Sinkler s meadow, leave to 
 die fierce Tarleton the honor of hunting out the wily Marion. 
 
SHARP PASSAGES AT ARMS. IT? 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SHARP PASSAGES AT ARMS. 
 
 BARSFIELD retired to liis slumbers that night with pleas*-,, 
 anticipations. Blonay again sought the woods, and sleeple^Siy 
 sought, by the douhiful moonlight, his way into the fame 
 swamp recesses which he had traversed through the day. His 
 leading passion was revenge, and he spared no pains co se 
 cure it. He could sleep standing against a tree; kiid he 
 seemed not even to need repose at all. He was gone all 
 night, yet appeared at the mansion of Mr. Berkeley ready for 
 his breakfast, and seemingly as if he had never felt fatigue. 
 
 The two ^laidens the next morning stood conversing in the 
 piazza. Barsfielcl, with his corps, baggage-wagons and all, 
 had just departed. Blonay, too, had set off, but in a different 
 direction. Piney Grove was once more left to its old, sweet, 
 quiet ; and a painful restraint and a heavy weight seemed 
 taken from the heart of Janet Berkeley with the absence of 
 her father s guests. 
 
 " Well, Janet," exclaimed the livelier Rose Duncan, as they 
 looked down the long avenue, and surveyed itw quiet, " I am 
 heartily glad our military visitors are gone. I am sick of big 
 swords, big whiskers, and big feathers, the more particularly 
 indeed, as, with many of this sort of gentry, khese endowments 
 seem amply sufficient to atone for and redeuiD the most outra 
 geous stupidity, mixed with much more monstrous self-esteem 
 There was not one of these creatures, now, that could fairly 
 persuade a body, even in the most trying country emergency, 
 to remember she had a heart at all. All was stuff and stiff 
 ness, buttons and buckram ; and when the creatures did maks 
 
1 78 MELLTCIIAMPE. 
 
 a move, it was a sort of wire and screw exhibition a dread 
 ful operation in mechanics, as if a clumsy inventor, armed 
 with thumbs rather than fingers, and mortally apprehensive 
 that his work would go to pieces before he could get it safely 
 out of his hands, had wheeled it out, and was wheeling it in, 
 soured and sullen from a consciousness that, in so wheeling it, 
 the rickety thing had not shown to advantage. And these are 
 soldiers ! Well, Heave n save us, I pray, as much from their 
 love as from their anger. The latter might bayonet one, it is 
 true ; but I should as surely die of the annoyance and ennui 
 that would inevitably come with the other. Look up, my dear 
 cousin, and tell me what you think." 
 
 It was thus that the lively Rose Duncan discoursed of the 
 tory troop to her cousin. Janet replied quietly a pleasant 
 but subdued smile touching her lips, softly and sweet, as a 
 faint blush of sunlight resting upon some drooping flower by 
 the wayside. 
 
 " And yet, my dear Rose, you have no reason to complain ; 
 you certainly made a conquest of the young lieutenant, Mr. 
 Clayton. His eyes spoke eloquently enough ; and his mouth, 
 whenever it was opened, was full of the prettiest compliments. 
 You must not be ungrateful." 
 
 " Nor am I. I do not complain of, nor yet will I appropriate, 
 (he goods the gods provide me. I take leave to congratulate 
 myself on their leaves- taking all not to omit my simper 
 ing, sweet, slender Adonis, the gentle lieutenant himself. 
 Pshaw, Janet, how can you suppose that I should endure such 
 a whipt-syllabub sort of creature ? You must have pitied me, 
 hearing, with no hope of escape, his rhapsodies about music 
 and poetry moonlight and bandana handkerchiefs ; for he 
 mixed matters up in such inextricable confusion, that I could 
 have laughed in his face, but that it required some effort to 
 overcome the stupid languor with which he possessed me. 
 You needn t smile, Janet he did he was a most delicate 
 bore." 
 
 " And you really desire me to believe, Rose, that he has 
 made no interest in your heart?" was the response of Janet to 
 all this tirade. The graver maiden of the two seemed dis- 
 
PASSAGES AT ARMS. 179 
 
 posed to adopt some of the light humor of her companion, and 
 annoy her after her own fashion. 
 
 "Interest ! heart ! liow can you talk such stuff, Janet, and 
 look so serious all the while? You should be pelted with 
 pine-burs, and I will undertake your punishment before the 
 day is well over. By-the-way, talking of pine-burs, I am 
 reminded, though I don t see why, of the strange blear-eyed 
 countryman. What a curious creature, with that stiff, straight 
 black hair so glossy black and those eyes that seem pop 
 ping from his head, and look of all colors; and then the rigid, 
 yet loose fixture of his limbs, that seem like those of a statue, 
 drawn asunder, and left hanging by the merest ligatures. 
 What a queer creature!" 
 
 " He seems poor and humble," replied Janet, " and is 
 probably affected mentally. He seems idiotic." 
 
 " Not he not he ! His gaze is too concentrative and too 
 fixed, to indicate a wandering intellect : then, why his fre- 
 fyuent conversations with that bull-necked lover of yours, Bars- 
 field ? Did he not take him into the woods when the country 
 man came back yesterday evening, and keep him there a full 
 hour? I tell you what, Janet, that fellow s a spy ; he s after 
 no good here : and, as I live, here he is, coming back full 
 tilt upon his crooked pony, that s just as queer and up-ly as 
 himself." 
 
 As she said, Blonay reappeared at this moment, and the 
 dialogue ceased accordingly between the maidens. The half- 
 breed grinned with an effort at pleasantness as he bowed to 
 them, and, speaking a few words to Mr. Berkeley, as if iu 
 explanation of his return, he proceeded to loiter about the 
 grounds. The eyes of Rose watched him narrowly, and with 
 no favorable import ; but Blonay did not seem to heed her 
 observation. He now sauntered in the park, and now ho 
 leaned against a tree in the pleasant sunshine; and, by his 
 torpid habit of body, seemed to justify Janet to her more lively 
 cousin in the opinion which she had uttered of his idiocy. 
 But the scout was never more actively employed than jusf 
 when he seemed most sluggish. He was planning the sale of 
 Marion s camp to Tarleton. He was loitering about Pinej 
 
180 MKLLICriAMPE. 
 
 Grove, with the double object of being nigh his enemy s hiding- 
 place and of meeting with the legionary. 
 
 " He is a spy, Janet. He has been put here as a watch 
 over us and upon Mellichampc. Barsficld knows Mellichampe 
 to be rash, as he has shown himself, and he has put that 
 fellow here to look out for and shoot him." 
 
 Janet shuddered, and her eyes involuntarily turned to the 
 spot where, at a little distance, the half-breed otood leaning 
 igainst a tree. How imploring was the expression of her 
 f *ye ! Could he have seen it, if such were his purpose, he must 
 have relented. Such was the thought of Rose such the 
 hope of Janet. The scout had seen that look he had felt 
 its expression. 
 
 " But where is he now, Janet ?" was the question of Rose a 
 few moments after. He was gone, and so stealthily, they had 
 not suspected his movement. The half-breed was again upon 
 the track of his enemy. 
 
 Barsfield, meanwhile, though dispensing with the attendance 
 of Blonay, did not fail to avail himself, in one respect, of the 
 information which the latter had given him. The proximity 
 of Marion in the swamp, with a hundred men or more, aroused 
 the tory to increased exertion, and counselled the utmost pru 
 dence in his march, as it showed the neighborhood of so supe 
 rior an enemy. The arms, baggage, clothing, and ammuni 
 tion, intended to supply a large body of tories, and which were 
 intrusted to his charge, were of far more importance to his 
 present purposes than of real intrinsic value. Not to deliver 
 them safely into the hands of those who were to employ them, 
 and whom he was to employ, would be to suffer dreadfully in 
 (he estimation of his British superiors, and in his own personal 
 interests. To have them fall into the hands of the rebels, 
 were to accumulate evil upon evil, as no acquisition which the 
 latter could make at this period could be of greater importance 
 It was well for him that these suggestions filled the mind of 
 the tory. He was a tolerable soldier en a small scale, and 
 was already well conversant with the partisan warfare. He 
 sent forward a few trusty horsemen to reconnoitre and keep 
 the advance; and, moving cautiously and with watchful eyes- 
 
SHAKP 1 ASSAGKB AT A.KMS. 181 
 
 he h jped to make his way without interruption. But ne was 
 not fated to do so, as we shall see anon. 
 
 Major Singleton, having a more extended line of country to 
 traverse, and a greater variety of duties to perform, started 
 from the swamp at dusk, and some time hefore the rest. Mar 
 ion set forth by midnight; and Captain Melton, after attend 
 ing to some matters of minor importance, led off his little corps 
 an hour later. Our attention will chiefly he given to this lat 
 ter hand, of which Ernest Mcllichainpc was the first-lieutenant, 
 and Jack Witherspoon the orderly. By the dawn they found 
 themselves at one of the lower crossing-places upon the river, 
 probably that at which it would be the aim of Barsfield to 
 cross ; but, as this was uncertain, it was not the policy of Mel 
 ton to await him there. The position was by no means good, 
 and the ground too much broken for the free use of cavalry. 
 
 With the dawn, therefore, Melton moved his troop slowly 
 up the road, intending to place them in ambush behind a thick 
 wood which lay in their route, and which had been already 
 designated for this purpose. The road ran circuitously through 
 this wood, forming a defile, around which a proper disposition 
 of his force must have been successful, and must have resulted 
 in the destruction or capture of the entire force of the tories. 
 The spot was well known to the partisans, and had been de 
 termined upon, even before the party left the river, as Avell 
 adapted, beyond any other along the road, for the contempla 
 ted encounter. It lay but seven miles off, and one hour s quick 
 riding would have enabled them to reach and secure it. But 
 Melton pursued a regular, or rather a cautious gait, which, 
 under oilier circumstances, and at another time, would have 
 been proper enough. But now, when the object was the at 
 tainment of a particular station, a forced movement became 
 essential, in most part, to their success; certainly to that plan 
 of surprise which they had in view. Mellichampe more than 
 once suggested this to his superior officer; but the latter waa 
 one of those persons who have solemn and inveterate habits, 
 from which they never depart. His horse had but one gait, 
 and to that he was accustomed. His rider had but a single 
 tune, and tliatwas a dead march. The consequences of thesa 
 
1 32 
 
 peculiarities was a funeral movement on the present occasion, 
 and no argument of Mellicliampe could induce Melton to urge 
 the advance more briskly. lie cursed the monotonous drone 
 m his heart; and, biting his lips until the blood started from 
 them, he predicted to himself that the party would be too 
 late. 
 
 And so indeed it happened. Barsfield, whom the intelli 
 gence brought by Blonay had prompted to renewed speed in 
 his movements, had set forth, as we have seen, by the dawn 
 of day, and was upon the road quite as soon as Melton, who 
 had been travelling half the night. Had the counsel of Melli- 
 champe been taken, the desired position would have been 
 gained easily by the partisans; for, as it lay a little nearer to 
 " Piney Grove" than to the swamps, and as Barsfield, though 
 urging his course forward with all due rapidity, was unavoid 
 ably compelled to move slowly, burdened as he was with his 
 baggage-wagons, nothing could have been more easy than to 
 have attained it with a proper effort. 
 
 But Melton was not the man to make an effort he had nc 
 mind for an occasion ; and the force of habit, with him, was 
 far more controlling than any impulse from necessity. Such 
 a man is no genius. He stopped his troop here and there, to 
 scour this or that suspicious-looking growth of underwood 
 sent out his scouts of observation, as if he had been engaged 
 in the vague and various duties of the forager, instead oi push 
 ing forward with the single object the performance of the task 
 which he had in hand. The consequence of this blundering 
 was foreseen, and partially foretold, by the indignant Melli- 
 champe, who could scarcely restrain his anger within terms 
 of courtesy. Bitterly aroused, he was ready almost for revolt ; 
 and, but for the presence of the danger, and the necessity of 
 turning his wrath in the more legitimate direction of his ene 
 mies, it was apparent to all, that, from the harsh tones and 
 stern looks interchanged by the two officers, an outbreak must 
 soon have followed. 
 
 But the thoughts of all were turned to other objects, as, sud 
 denly, one of their troopers rode up, informing Melton of the 
 approach of Barsfield, close at hand. He had oiiJV time to mar- 
 
SHAKP i ASSAGKt A j. ARMS 183 
 
 liit men on the &ide of a little copse and bay that lay be- 
 t .w.n himself and the foe, when the heavy tramp of the cavalry 
 .-.I: ,i the creaking wheels of the baggage-wagons were heard at 
 a liule distance. A timely resolution, even then, though com 
 jmratively unprepared, might yet have retrieved the error 
 u hi eh the commander of the troop had committed; but his 
 [ ks were now indecisive, his movements uncertain, and he 
 gave his orders for a change of position, imagining that a bet 
 ter stand presented itself a little distance back. 
 
 " This must not be, Captain Melton !" cried Mellichampe, 
 indignantly. "It is quite too late, sir, to think of any such 
 change. A retrograde movement full in the face of an advan 
 cing enemy, will have the effect of a retreat upon our troop, 
 and give the enemy all the advantage of our panic and con 
 fusion, together with the courage and confidence which our 
 seeming flight must inspire in them. We can not change now, 
 and we must make the best of our position. Had my advice 
 been minded " 
 
 He was interrupted as the close sounds of the advancing 
 tories met his ears. Melton saw the impossibility of any change 
 now, and the discovery, on his part, produced in his mind all 
 the, feelings of surprise and discomfiture which he had planned 
 for the reception of his foe. Ha gave his orders, it is true ; 
 but he did not look the officer to his men, and they did not 
 feel "with him. Not so witbi Mellichampe: the few words 
 which had passed in the hearing of the troop between him and 
 his commander the air of fit.r-jo do. Vision which his features 
 wore -the conscious superiority win ;h they indicated were 
 all so many powerful spells - 1 vaior> which made the brave 
 fellows turn their eyes upon him as upon their true leader. 
 
 And co he y/as. The imbecility of Melton became more 
 conspicuous as the moment of IrirJ approached. He halted, 
 hung back, as the enemy entered upon the little defile in 
 which only it could be attacked ; and thus exposed his men, 
 when the attack was made, to all the disadvantages arising 
 from a suffered surprise. It was then that the impatient blood 
 of Mellichampe, disdaining all the restraints of discipline, 
 him forward in the assault with a fierce shout to his 
 
184: MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 men, and a scornful jeer almost in the ears of his commander, 
 as, driving his good steed before him, he advanced to the 
 charge, which he made with so much force and impetuosity aa 
 at once to stagger the progress of the tories. 
 
 R-ivsfield was, just then, emerging from the pass a little 
 cornfield, with its worm-fence enclosing lay on one hand, and. 
 on the other, the woods were open and free from undergrowth 
 It was here that Melton s men had been posted, not so advan 
 tageously as they would have been had they reached the spot 
 which Marion had designated for them ; but sufficiently well 
 to have rendered the attack successful under a spirited charge 
 such as that made by Mellichampe. But the information 
 which Barsfield had received from Blonay had made him ex 
 tremely cautious, as we have already seen, and he had prop 
 erly prepared himself against, and was on the look-out for, 
 assaults like the present. ^With the first appearance of the 
 enemy, his men were ordered to display themselves in open 
 order; the wagons were suffered to fall behind, and were car 
 ried back under the escort of a single dragoon to the spot 
 from which they had started in the morning. To this effect 
 the instructions of Barsfield had been already given. Free 
 and unencumbered, the tory met his enemy boldly, and re 
 ceived Lisi with a discharge cf pistols. The steed of Melli 
 champe was at this moment careering within a few paces of 
 him. The sabre of the youth waving above his head, and, 
 with a bitter smile, rising in his stirrups, he cried out, as he 
 prepared to cross weapons with bis enemy 
 
 " Dog of a tory, we have a clear field now ! There are 
 none to come between us. Strike, villain, and strike well ; 
 for, by my father s blood, I will give you no quarter \ r 
 
 Barsfield calmly seemed to await bis approach, and exhib 
 ited no lack of courage: jet his sabre was unlifted his bri 
 dle lay slackened in his hand ; and, but for his erect posture 
 and firm seat, it might be supposed that he was a mere looker- 
 on in the affray. He replied to the furious language of his 
 youthful opponent in tones and language as fierce. 
 
 " You may swear by your own blood soon, boy, or I much 
 mistake your chances." 
 
GHAKP PASSAGES AT ARMS. 185 
 
 The sabre of the youth glared in his face at this reply, and 
 the movement of the tory was made in another instant with 
 all- the rapidity of thought. His horse, under the quick im 
 pulse of a heavy bit, was brought round in a moment : in an 
 other, a huge pistol was draAvn from his holsters, and the 
 careering steed of Mellicharnpe received the bullet meant for 
 his master in his own breast. Ho fell forward upon his knees, 
 made an imperfect effort to rise, and the next moment plunged 
 desperately and struggled almost under the feet of BarsfieUVs 
 horse. A few seconds sufficed for Mellichampe s extrication ; 
 and he was barely in time by throwing up his sabre, to arrest 
 the stroke of his enemy s. On foot he now pressed forward 
 upon Barsfield, and sought to close so nearly in with him as 
 to make it difficult for him to employ his sabre, unless by 
 shortening it too greatly to permit of his using it with any ad 
 vantage. But the tory saw his design, and immediately 
 backed his steed. Mellichampe pursued him with his accus 
 tomed rashness, and must certainly have been slain by the 
 tory, who had now drawn another pistol from JJs holster, when 
 Witherspoon, who had been hotly engaged, but had seen with 
 anxiety the contest between the two enemies, now rushed be 
 tween ; and, setting the huge and splendid horse which he 
 rode directly in the teeth of that of Barsfield, the shock of 
 their meeting threw the latter completely upon his haunches, 
 and % nearly unseated his rider. 
 
 The sabres of Barsfield and Witherspoon then clashed hur 
 riedly, and, though chafed to be robbed of his prey even by 
 his friend* Mellicham^e was compelled to forbear his par 
 ticular game, and turn his attention entirely to his own safety 
 A horse plunged by him riderless, which he was fortunaU 
 enough to seize; and he M as mounted opportunely just as ? 
 fresh charge of the lories separated Witherspoon from his op 
 ponent, whom he had pressed back into the defile. This cliargr. 
 drove the sergeant, in his turn, down upon the original posi 
 tion of the attacking party. The impulse was for a few me 
 ments irresistible, and two or three of the men fairly turned 
 tbi-r horse : and fled from before it. Captain Melton seeing 
 tbis, gave tLe 010.8 io retreat, and the trumpet sounded the 
 
quick ami mortifying- signal. But the voice of the youthful 
 Mellichampe sounded even above the shrill alarum of the in 
 strument, as, with a desperate blow with his sabre, lie struck 
 ti.e recreant trumpeter to the earth. 
 
 "Shame to yon, men of Marior ! shame! do you fly 
 from the tories of Waccamaw ? Do you give back before the 
 \Vinyah mud eaters ? Follow me!" 
 
 The cry of Witherspoon was yet more characteristic, and, 
 perhaps, far more potential. 
 
 " You forget, boys, sartainly, that the tories find it natcral 
 to be licked ; and if they was to lick you now, that s licked 
 them so often, they wouldn t know what to do for joy. Turn 
 to, and let s lick em ag in !" 
 
 The call was not made in vain. True valor is quite as con 
 tagious as fear, since it is always quite as earnest. The parti 
 sans heard the words of their leaders they saw the headlong 
 rush of their steeds; and they rushed -forward also with as 
 generous an emotion. They were received with a front quite 
 as firm, and a ^pirit not less forward than their own. The 
 >ries, too, had been inspirited by their success in the first 
 shock, and, with loud cheers, they prepared for the second. 
 The encounter, as it was made just at the mouth of the defile, 
 a circumscribed position, where each man found his opponent, 
 had something of the character of the mixed fight of the mid 
 dle ages. 
 
 The rush was tremendous; the strife, for a few moments, 
 terrible. But all in vain did the eye of Mellichampb distin 
 guish, and his spirit burn once more to contend with his deadly 
 enemy. They were kept asunder by the tide f battle. The 
 ranks were broken; the fight became pell-mell; and, on a 
 .sudden, while each man was contending with his enemy, a 
 Ik.-cc cry of triumph and of vengeance burst from the lips of 
 Barsneld himself. Mellichempei though closely engaged, with 
 a jsnut dragoon, suffered lug eye to seek the spot whence the 
 sou .c- *, ose, and ones Jjs.r.sld its occasion. Barsfield had been 
 con-, ._ d. s-.sndir, but fine-looking youth, whom ho 
 
 had "A .-;.^rmed. i ho U.ITIC of his conqueror had torn him fr:-_i 
 las ii.*:se with all the :<;.: :.glL of a giant. The youth lay av 
 
SllAKI I ASSAUKS AT ARMS. 1ST 
 
 his feet, resting upon one band, looking partly upon bis foe 
 and partly round, as if imploring succor from bis friends. 
 Mellicbampe distinguisbed tbe features instantly, tbougb 
 smeared with blood. Tbey were tboso of Gabriel Marion, tbe 
 ncpbcw of tbe general, a youth of nineteen only. 
 , "He shall not die, by Heaven !". cried Mellicbampe aloud ; 
 in tbe same moment, with a daring effort, drawing bis horse 
 back from tbe encounter witb tbe enemy with whom be was 
 engaged, as if in flight a movement which, encouraging the 
 other to press forward, disordered bis guard, and placed him 
 at disadvantage. Meeting his stroke, Mellicbampe set it read 
 ily aside; then, striking in turn at tbe bead of bis oppo 
 nent, bo put spurs to bis horse, without looking to see wbat 
 bad been tbe effect of bis blow, and, passing quickly beyond 
 him, rushed forward to meet with Barsfield. But, as he ap 
 proacbed, be saw that nothing could be done for tbe youth 
 whose band was uplifted a frail defence in opposition to 
 bis conqueror s weapon. 
 
 " Stay, Barsfield strike him not, scoundrel, or look for tbe 
 vengeance " 
 
 But, ere the speech was finished, the youth leaped once more 
 to bis feet, and tbe weapon meant for bis bead passed over it. 
 Young Marion then grasped the sword-arm of bis enemy ; but, 
 drawing bis remaining pistol in the same moment, Barsfield 
 shot him through the breast. 
 
 Tbe cry of grief on the one band, and of triumph on the 
 other, contributed greatly to discourage the partisans. That 
 moment was fatal to several more in their ranks, and tbe 
 disparity of force was now in favor of tbe tories. They were 
 soon conscious of tbe fact, and pressed upon their enemies. 
 Stung with shame, Mellicharnpe made a desperate effort, and, 
 nobly seconded by a few, threw himself in tbe path of the 
 nemy, and bravely disputed every inch of ground, yielding 
 it only under tbe pressure of numbers. 
 
 "I can not fly, Witberspoon speak not of it, I tell you. I 
 know that the odds are against us, bat we must only strike tbe 
 oftener." 
 
188 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 " Well, Airuest, jist as you say. You know best, if you 
 like it ; and so-, knock away s the word." 
 
 Two or three brief sentences between tie friends conveyed 
 the difficulties and dangers of the scene and the spirit of the 
 combatants. The partisans fought well, but they grew weaker 
 in numbers and individual strength with every movement o f 
 the protracted battle. They had not well calculated the dif 
 ference of personal capacity for strife and endurance of fatigue 
 between drilled men and volunteers ; and, though the spirit 
 of the latter for a time, is more than a match for the harden 
 ing practice of the former, yet it very seldom endures so well, 
 
 "I will perish on this field I will not leave it, and show 
 my back to that scoundrel ! Come on, men ! come on, With- 
 erspoon ! let us pluck up spirit for another a last a des 
 perate charge. I must meet with Barsfield, now ; there are 
 too few on either side to keep us long apart." 
 
 A brief pause in the combat, as if by tacit consent, enabled 
 Mellichampe, in the breathing time which it afforded, to con- 
 . vey this suggestion and resolve to the few fierce spirits still 
 gathering around him driven back, but not yet defeated 
 dispirited, perhaps, but far from subdued. They freely pledg 
 ed themselves to the resolution, and, with a cheer, as if they 
 . had been going to a banquet, they drove the rowels into their 
 jaded steeds, and joined once more in the struggle. But the 
 weapons had scarcely crossed, and the close strife had not yet 
 begun when the shrill notes of a bugle rang through the wood 
 to the left of the combatants. 
 
 " It is Singleton s trumpet," cried Mellichampe aloud to bin 
 men ; and a cheer of encouragement involuntarily went \\p from 
 their lips as they listened to the grateful music. In the next 
 moment, at full gallop, the reinforcement of Singleton came 
 plunging forward to the rescue from the woods on every side, 
 while the full-toned voice of their gallant leader shouted to 
 the fainting combatants to strike on without faltering. Bars- 
 field, so lately confident of his triumph over his enemy, and 
 of his vengeance upon the one foe, in particular, about to be 
 realized, was compelled to feu-ego the p- ey almost within hia 
 grasp. 
 
SHARP PASSAGES AT ARMS. 1 ft 3 
 
 Now, may the hell have him that fights for him!" cried 
 the disappointed tory, as, with the first appearance of Single 
 ton s troop, lie ordered his own bugles to sound the retreat. 
 Clearing, with terrible blows, the few enemies that were yet 
 clinging around him, Barsfield wheeled furiously in his flight, 
 while, close at his heels, pursuing to the very gates of Piney 
 Grove, but not fast enough to overtake him, Singleton urged for 
 ward his wearied animals in tfie fond hope of annihilating a 
 foe so insolent, and who promised to become so troublesome. 
 
MELUCHAMP*. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE MAIDEN 7 S GIFT. 
 
 BAUSFIELD had neither ridden so far, nor in such haste, as 
 the partisans that morning. This alone saved him. His 
 horses were inferior; and, but for the fatigue Avhich his ene 
 mies had undergone, he must have been overtaken. The judi 
 cious disposition which the tory had made of his baggage- 
 wagons, in sending them back to Piney Grove at the first ap 
 pearance of danger, also contributed greatly to the facility of 
 his movements; and, unimpeded by the necessity of guarding 
 them, and not much breathed by the stirring encounter through 
 which they had passed, the stout horses his men bestrode, 
 though not so swift as those of the Americans, was yet better 
 alile to make headway in the flight. The pursuit was hotly 
 urged, though unsuccessful. The horses of Singleton were too 
 much jaded with the hnixi ride of twenty odd miles which 
 they had taken, and could not be made to keep up even with 
 the fagged animals of Mellichampe s little troop. Barsfield 
 escaped them, and safely passed through the avenue of Piney 
 Grove before the pursuing party came in sight. 
 
 The baggage-wagons of the tory had just arrived, and, with 
 a sagacious disposition of his force, which indicated ability 
 worthy of a better cause, he proceeded to make effective ar 
 rangements for the reception of Singleton s troop, which was 
 ({tiite too large to suffer him to think that so enterprising a 
 partisan would draw them off without a farther attempt upon 
 him. Dismounting his men rapidly, therefore, he threw open 
 the doors of the basement story of the mansion; and, without 
 
THE MAIDEN S G; T T. 1PJ 
 
 lea/e asked or given the exigency was too pressing for mere 
 courtesies he made his dragoons stable their steeds in th?, 
 jpacious apartments. Emptying the baggage-wagons of their 
 contents, lie armed his men with the muskets, of which there 
 was sufficient provision j and, having secured the residue of 
 their stores within the walls of tne dwelling-house, he proceed 
 ed, to the great disquiet of Mr. Berkeley, and the terror of the 
 yoi mg ladies, to close the doors and make a fortress of the 
 family mansion, The upper room;: 1 were barricaded with chairs 
 and tables ; and, watchful at all tho F/iiicle 73, tjLe troopers stood 
 ready with their musket , ue^. n^ fo-u ?v nr-.ticuously and warn- 
 ingly in all directions from the bu"]cl:r,g. 
 
 This was scarce!} 7 done, ,vhe:i the partisans came down the 
 avenue. It was with no little vexation that Singleton sur 
 veyed this prospect. His eye at a moment beheld the difficul 
 ties of his situation, and ih:, danger of any assault upon a foe 
 so well prepared. To rush on brick walls, and be met by 
 musket-bullets, without being able to obtain sight of the de 
 fenders, was not the pr,n. of a discreet valor ; and yet, to leave 
 an enemy so enfeebled rj 3;a\si]oki was, without further efforts 
 to overcome or destroy lil.n, was ,-;till more irksome to a bravo 
 spirit like that of the olnv,r in command. The rash and head 
 long Mellicbampe. however, thinking only of his personal hos 
 tility to Barsfield, could hardly be restrained. He was for 
 immediately charging, and hying the weight of an axe upon 
 the doors of the dwelling. 
 
 "Ay, ay; but how to get there ?" cried the more sagacious 
 Singleton. "No, no, Mellichampa. we must try some better 
 plan some safer enterprise. To cross the yard in the te,Hh 
 of those muskets would be certain death to nearly every in m 
 who makes the effort, and we are but too poorly provided with 
 soldiers to be thus profligate. V/e must think of something 
 else; and, in order to have time for it, let us send a message 
 to the tory. Let us see what fair words will do, find the prcm- 
 .-21 of good quarter. Besides, we must make some arrange- 
 u..ciits for getting the family out of the house before making 
 any assault." 
 
 Tbfl truth of these suggestions was unquestionable ; and Mai- 
 
192 MKLLirilA.UI K. 
 
 lichampe volunteered to bear the despatches, but Singletcc 
 refused him. 
 
 " No, no ; the risk will be great to yot: ; and the tory hatsa 
 you too well to stop at trifles. He might be tempted to scms 
 desperate act if you are to bs tl.o messenger. I prefer Y/i- .h 
 p.rspoon. 
 
 " Jist as you say, major; I m ready, as the alligator said .c 
 the duck. I m read)-; though I a n t a great speaker, yet I 
 can tell Barsfield what MG H to reckon on if lie don t come to 
 tarrns. If so be all I ve 0t to say is to tell him he ll be licked 
 if he don t give up &IJ.G. c . .... -..-,! .der, I can do that easy enough," 
 was the prompt speech of the scout. 
 
 " You know there s danger, V? itherspoon," said Singleton. 
 " Tliis fellow Barsfield may not think it becoming to treat with 
 a rebel ; and he may send a bullet through the head of a cou 
 rier, and think no sin of it." 
 
 11 Well, he d be a mean skunk to do sich a thing, major ; 
 that s agin all the civilities of war. I knows there s danger, 
 but I can t help it. Man that is born of woman, says the 
 Scripture I don t rightly call to mind the other part but it 
 means that we ve all got to die some time or other, and ta n t 
 the part of a brave man to he always dodging from danger. I 
 must take my chance, major, so git your paper ready. 
 
 Singleton pencilled brief but honorable proposals to the tory, 
 pledging the enlargement of himself and party on parole if 
 they would surrender; and denouncing otherwise the well 
 known horrors of a storm. A permission, in the event of his 
 refaaal to surrender, was extey> ded to Mr. Berkeley and Lia 
 family, but no other person, f o leave the beleaguered dwelling 
 T. itherspoon received the paper, and prepared to depart. 
 
 "Mayn t I cany my rifle, major 1 I don t feel altogether 
 natural when I don t have it, partic larly when I m to go seek 
 my enemy/ 
 
 " No arms, Witherspoon ; nothing but the flag." 
 
 He handed the weapon to Mellichampe with no small reluc 
 tance. 
 
 " Take care of her, Airnest ; she s a sweet critter, and mak5 
 * c?a,ck that s born music, and I loves her." 
 
Tli:: JIAIDKN S GIFT. 193 
 
 With no more words, arid with a single glance toward the 
 youth, that spoke volumes of affection warmly and truly felt, 
 the scout, without any hesitation, turned away from the park 
 where this conference was carried on; and, waving his hand 
 kerchief aloft the substitute for a flag he proceeded on his 
 way of peril to the dwelling. 
 
 " I see a rebel with a flag!" said one of the tories, who first 
 discerned the despatch, to his commander. " Shall I shoot 
 him, sir?" 
 
 The hesitation of Barsfield to reply was almost a permission, 
 and the man had his gun lifted and ready ; but the tory cap 
 tain thought it more proper or more prudent to forbear. 
 
 "No; let him come: and you, Clayton, receive him at the 
 entrance. But see that no other approaches. Fire at the first 
 man who appears within reach of your muskets." 
 
 In an inner room, in the presence of the family, Barsfield 
 received the messenger. His reply to the message was one of 
 scornful disdain. 
 
 " Well, now, cappin," said Thumbscrew, coolly, " you d bet 
 ter not send any sich word to the major, for he s old hell with 
 his grinders, and it ll be pretty bad for you if he once gits them 
 into your flesh. They ll meet, now, I tell you, if he does." 
 
 " You are answered," was the temperate reply of the tory, 
 who then turned to Mr. Berkeley. 
 
 " The rebel graciously accords you permission, with your 
 family, to leave the dwelling, Mr. Berkeley. You are at per 
 fect liberty to do so, if you please ; but, if you will rely on my 
 defences, there is no danger : the place is perfectly tenable." 
 
 " No, no, dear father let us go let us fly. There is dan 
 ger ; and, even if there be none, it is no place for us." 
 
 "But where shall we go, my daughter?" said the old man, 
 utterly bewildered. 
 
 " To the overseer s house, father. It is out of the reach of 
 all danger, and there is room enough for us all." 
 
 They came forth with Witherspoon, who led them at once 
 into the park, where Mellichampe received and escorted them 
 to the dwelling-house of the overseer, a rude but spacious 
 building, that stood in a field running along at a little distance 
 
194 MKLLICIIAMPK. 
 
 ^ 
 
 to tlie west of the avenue, within sight and hearing of lite 
 mansion-house, but beyond reach of fiic-arms from that quarter 
 It was a moment of sweet sorrow, that which Mellichampe ami 
 Janet enjoyed in the brief interview which the necessities of 
 the time permitted them. The cheerful and stimulating 
 sounds of the trumpet recalled him to his duties, and, with a 
 word of encouragement and hope, whicli was answered by her 
 tears, he hurried away to the field of strife, and the presei:re 
 of the energetic Singleton. 
 
 " Lieutenant Mellichampe, take your men, throw down yon 
 der panels, <and cross into the garden ; keep them under cover 
 where the shelter is sufficient to conceal your movement, and 
 have your horses then fastened at the foot of the hill rising on 
 the, right. A couple of sentries will guard them there. This 
 done, return to the post assigned you in the garden, covering 
 the dwelling on the rear with your rifles." 
 
 Mellichampe moved promptly, in obedience to his orders, 
 and soon succeeded in securing possession of the garden 
 Dividing his command in such a manner as to place a similai 
 body of men in watch over each quarter of the building 
 Singleton proceeded to try the effect of his rifles upon such of 
 the defenders as were more than necessarily exposed. His 
 men were dismounted for this purpose, their horses secured in 
 safety, and each man was put in possession of his tree. 
 
 To the rifles of Singleton the muskets of Barsfield s party 
 readily responded, and, for a few moments, the din and uproar 
 were continued with no little spirit. The musketry soon 
 ceased, however. Barsfield discovered that it was not his 
 policy to risk his men, two of whom had fallen in this overture, 
 in any such unequal conflict. The certainty of the rifle, in 
 such hands as those of the partisans, was too great a danger 
 to be wantonly opposed by musket-men. There was no ne 
 cessity for any such exposure on the part of the besieged : all 
 that they were required to do was to keep watch upon the 
 area below, and prevent the nearer approach of the beleaguer 
 ing party. After a few rounds, therefore, had shown what re 
 suits must follow such a combat, Barslield forbade the firing from 
 the house, and commanded that his men should lie close, o?.ily 
 
THE MAIDEN S GJFI. 195 
 
 watching for an occasional exposure of the persons of their 
 enemies within certain reach of their muskets. 
 
 The bugle of Singleton called up his officers. They assem 
 bled, as at a central and safe point, at the overseer s dwelling, 
 to which the family of Mr. Berkeley had retired. A small 
 room was assigned the partisans, and there they carried on 
 tlieir hurried deliberations. 
 
 " This is child s play, gentlemen," said Singleton ; " can we 
 find no better mode of dislodging these rascals? Our shot do 
 little good now. There is no object to aim at, Barsfield has 
 discovered the difference between rifled and smooth bore, and 
 keeps too snug to suffer any harm at our hands. We must 
 think of something, gentlemen ; and it must be done quickly, 
 or not at all, for Tarleton s on the road, and we must beat 
 Barsfield by noon, or leave him. What do you say ? I should 
 he pleased, gentlemen, to have your suggestions." 
 
 " Many men, many minds." It would be needless to say, 
 that there must, be various counsels when there are many coun 
 sellors. Each had his notion and his plan, but to all there 
 were objections. Humphries, at length, proposed to fire the 
 dwelling. All agreed that this was the wisest suggestion 
 the effective plan, if it could only be made available. But 
 who was to carry the fire to the fortress who was to cross 
 the yard, in the teeth of thirty muskets, and " bell the cat" ? 
 snd what would be the chances of his life, or of his success, in 
 the endeavor ? This was the question, to which there was no 
 ready answer. It was obvious enough that any one approach 
 ing the building with such a purpose, or with any purpose, as 
 an enemy, must be shot down by its defenders. A silence of 
 several minutes followed the utterance of these views by Sin 
 gleton. The silence was broken by one a slender, pale, and 
 trembling youth, who emerged from behind the commander. 
 His lips quivered as he spoke, but it was not with fear. His 
 eye kindled with light, even while its long dark lashes seemed 
 suffused with the dews of a tender heart. 
 
 " I will go, major," were his quickly-uttered words. 
 
 "You, Lance? why t boy, you will be shot down instantly. 
 Impossible! you must not think of it!" was the imperative 
 reply. 
 
196 MELLICHAMl E. 
 
 "But, sir, I can run fast: I can first get to the fallen tree 
 and so quickly, I don t think they can hit me in that time; 
 and then the next push is for the piazza. Once I get under 
 the piazza, I will be safe :" and the lad trembled v/ith his own 
 earnestness. 
 
 " Perhaps you might, Lance, but it would be impossible to 
 preserve your fire in such a race, and the risk is too great to 
 be undertaken with such a prospect." 
 
 Singleton was imperative, but the youth continued to urge 
 his plan. At that moment a servant, entering the apartment, 
 beckoned Mcllichampc away. He was sent for by Janet, who 
 received him in the adjoining room. 
 
 " I have heard," said she, " some of your deliberations with 
 out intending it: but your voices are loud, and these are thin 
 partitions. The youth must not be suffered to go to certain 
 death. I understand your difficult} 7 , and think it may bo, 
 overcome. I have a plan for you." 
 
 "You!" exclaimed Mellichampe, with a smile. 
 
 "Yes : look at this bow and these arrows," pointing to a 
 noble shaft, which leaned in the corner of the room; "they 
 were the gift of a Catawba warrior to my father when I was 
 but a child. They are as good as new. They will convey 
 combustibles to the roof they will do what you desire." 
 
 "But your old home your family dwelling, Janet sacred 
 to you as your birthplace, and as the birthplace of your 
 mother " was the suggestion of her lover. 
 
 " Sacred as my home, as my own and my mother s birth 
 place, it is yet doubly sacred as my country s. Place your 
 combustibles upon these arrows, and send them to the aged 
 roof of that family mansion ; and I shall not joy the less to see 
 it burn because it is my father s, and should be mine, when I 
 know that in its ruin the people and the cause I love must 
 triumph. God forbid and keep me from the mean thought 
 that I shall lose by that which to my country must be so great 
 a gain." 
 
 The wondering and delighted Mellichampe could only look 
 his admiration. She stood before him, with her dark eye 
 flashing; but suffused, and her lip tromblhig with the awful 
 
THE MAIDEN S GIFT. 197 
 
 patriotism and warm feeling in her soul, as the very imbodi- 
 ment of liberty itself that divine imbodiment whoso sub 
 stance is truth, whose light is life, whoso aim is a perfect 
 humanity. 
 
 "Dearest Janet Worthy of adoration as of love your 
 self-sacrificing spirit is a rebuke to my own heart. I would 
 have saved that mansion for your sake, though even my enemy 
 my deadly enemy should escape his just punishment 
 thereby." 
 
 "Go, Ernest," she responded, "go! you have no time to 
 lose. Let not that noble youth expose himself to certain death. 
 Take the arrows, and do not let the hand tremble and the eye 
 turn aside when you direct them to that sacred roof; it is now 
 devoted to our country." 
 
 He seized the bow and arrows, carried her hand to his lips, 
 and rushed back to the place of conference. Singleton was 
 overjoyed when the primitive weapon was put into his hands, 
 
 "Happy chance! and who has given you these, Melli- 
 champe V 
 
 "A woman !" 
 
 " What, Miss Berkeley 1" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And with a knowledge of their probable use ?" 
 
 " With the avowed purpose of destroying by them her 
 father s dwelling and her own." 
 
 "Noble creature!" was the only exclamation of Singleton. 
 The thoughts of his mind wandering away, at that instant, 
 without his power to control them ; and, in his mind s eye, he 
 surveyed the form of another self-sacrificing maiden how 
 different from Janet Berkeley in form and character, but. oh i 
 bow very like in soul. 
 
198 MKLMCHAMFB. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 CAI UICKS OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 Wirii the overruling judgmen^of a master-spirit, S*~#letoii 
 immediately proceeded to make his arrangements. To Melli- 
 champc he gave orders to remount his men, and, leading them 
 around the park, once more gain possession of the avenue, 
 Here he was to await the result of the experiment, and tu 
 intercept the flight of the tories when they should he driven out 
 from their fortress by the progress of the flames. Humphries 
 was commanded to scatter his riflemen around the -mansion, 
 keeping close watch upon every movement of the garrison 
 within : while two or three of the men, more experienced in 
 such -matters, were occupied in preparing the combustibles 
 which were to be fastened to the lighted arrows. Singleton 
 himself took charge of the bow ; and, laying aside his sword 
 and every weapon which was calculated to encumber his 
 movement, himself prepared to discharge the more arduous 
 part of the proposed experiment. His commands were nearly 
 all instantly and simultaneously executed. A lively blast of 
 the bugle, from various quarters of the grounds, gave token of 
 concerted preparation. Arming- himself with the prepared 
 arrows, the partisan advanced. 
 
 " Lie close, men ! lie close !" he cried, as he saw several of 
 them emerging from shelter; " Lie close and watch the win 
 dows. Go back, Lance, and have your rifle in readiness." 
 
 With these words he advanced quickly but stealthily, and 
 with a heedful movement, from one tree to another, until, 
 reaching the inner limit of the park, he looked down upon the 
 yard immediately around the dwelling, and saw that from that 
 part he could certainly send his arrows to the roof. 
 
CAJ KICKa Ul< TUK CONFLICT. 
 
 Uoolly preparing himself, therefore, while all behind him 
 were breathlessly watching, now their commander and now the 
 (1 \velling. Singleton fell back for an instant, and closely ob 
 served the probable distance and height of the roof; then ad 
 vancing to the tree, and* planting his rigrht foot firmly behind 
 liim, he drew the long arrow to the head, until the missiles 
 which were attached to it grazed against the bended back of 
 the elastic yew. In another instant, and the meteor-like shaft 
 went whizzing and kindling through the air, darting on with a 
 true aim and unvarying flight, until, to the delight of the watch 
 ing partisans, it buried itself, blazing all the while, in the. very 
 bosom of the shingled roof. A long redoubled shout of ap 
 plause followed the achievement, and but a few moments had 
 elapsed when Barsfield became conscious of the new danger 
 Which awaited him. 
 
 "Ila!" he cried, as he beheld the position which Singleton 
 had taken behind the tree, which, however, only in part con 
 cealed him. " Send me a score of bullets at the rebel, or he 
 will smoke us out like so many rats. Shoot, men ! take good 
 aim, and stop him before it be too late." 
 
 A dozen muskets poured forth their contents in the direction 
 of the daring partisan. The bullets flew all around him where 
 he stood, but he stood unhurt. The moment after their fire 
 was favorable to another effort ; and, cool and thoughtful, 
 Singleton was soon ready with a second shaft. Once more the 
 whizzing arrow went blazing as fiercely and furiously as the 
 first, and aimed with equal judgment at a different portion of 
 the roof, Another and another followed in quick succession, 
 in spite of the successive volleys of musketry which poured 
 around him from the dwelling. In a little while the success 
 of the experiment was no longer questionable. 
 
 "It burns! it burns!" was the cry from the surrounding 
 partisans, and the surface of the roof was now sprinkled with 
 jets of flame, that flickered along the dry shingles, gathering 
 new bulk with every instant, and spreading themselves away 
 in thin layers of light, until the air, agitated into currents by 
 the progress of the fire, contributed to send it in huge volumes, 
 rolling m and upward into the sky. Shout upon shout from 
 
200 MELLICHAMFE 
 
 the lips of the partisans attested their joy, and congratulated 
 their successful captain, through whose fearless and skilful 
 agency the design had been effected. Their cheering cries, 
 more than anything besides, announced to the tories the new 
 dangers of their situation, and the desperate position in which 
 they stood. Singleton well conceived what might be their 
 course, and gave his orders accordingly. 
 
 " Riflemen ! stand by to watch the scuttle. Look out for 
 the roof! Mark the scuttle, and shoot closely!" 
 
 Ascending to the garret, by the aid of a little ladder which 
 always stood there for such a purpose, Barsfield himself pro 
 ceeded to throw open the scuttle, when he was warned of the 
 watchfulness of the besiegers by the sharp crack of the rifle, 
 and the instantaneous passage of the bullet through the scut 
 tle door, and just above his head. 
 
 " Too quick, Lance ! too quick by half!" cried Singleton to 
 the precipitate youth, who had fired before the tory s head 
 had made its appearance. The boy sank back abashed and 
 mortified. Barsfield, meanwhile, descended with much greater 
 rapidity than satisfaction, and the dense smoke rushed down 
 the aperture after him, filling the chambers with its suffocating 
 and increasing masses. 
 
 " It burns like tinder, and we have no water," said Clayton. 
 
 " And if we had," cried Barsfield fiercely, " who in the 
 devil s name would apply it under the fire from those rifles?" 
 
 " And what are we to do ?" cried one of the subordinates, 
 emboldened by the near approach of a common danger; 
 " Shall we stay here to be smoked alive, like so many wild 
 beasts in a hole ?" 
 
 " Should we not now surrender, Captain Barsfield, if we can 
 get fair terms of quarter?" was the suggestion of Clayton. 
 
 "What! beg terms of that youngster? Never!" fiercely 
 responded the tory. I will perish first !" 
 
 " Ay, but we shall all perish with you, and I see no good 
 reason for that, Captain Barsfield," was the calmer speech of 
 Clayton. " We should apply for quarters to any youngster, 
 rather than be smoked alive." 
 
 " And, if you did apply, would they hear us, think you ? 
 
CAPRICES OF TflK CONFLICT 201 
 
 Would they grant us the terms which we have already refused 
 with insult and disdain] No, no, Lieutenant Clayton ; they 
 would cry Tarleton s quarters in your ears in answer to all 
 your applications, and taunt you, while your limbs dangled 
 up 311 yonder oak, with oifr own good doings of the same sort." 
 
 "What then? Are we to stay here and perish by a death 
 so horrid ? Shall we not rather sally forth and fight 1" 
 
 "Yes, fight them to the last, of course," was the response of 
 Barsfield. "There is a mode, and but one that I can see, 
 of getting out from these difficulties. I ve escaped a worst 1 . 
 chance than this; and, with a good sword and stout heart, I 
 fear not to escape from this." 
 
 "Speak, Barsfield how?" cried Clayton, impatiently. 
 
 "Mount our horses and cut our way through the rebels. 
 They have dismounted and put their horses out of ready 
 reach ; and, if we cut our way through them, we shall get 
 start enough to keep ahead of them before they can mount." 
 
 "Ay, ay a good enough plan, were we mounted ; but the 
 first step that carries us beyond these walls puts us in the eye 
 of their rifles. How shall we get to our horses, unless by first 
 exposing ourselves in the piazza ?" 
 
 "You are but young as a soldier, Lieutenant Clayton," was 
 the sarcastic response of the tory captain, " and have much to 
 learn in the way of war and its escapes. I will show you how 
 we fehall reach the hoises without exposing ourselves, until \ve 
 rush forth, armed and upon their backs, prepared for fight as 
 well as our enemies. Every man will then be required to rely 
 upon himself; and for the hindmost, God help him ! for we 
 may not. Where s Fender?" he concluded, looking round 
 among the men, whose faces the crowding smoke was already 
 beginning to obscure. 
 
 "Here, sir," cried the man, coming forward. 
 
 " Unsling your axe and throw off your jacket," cried the 
 tory. coolly : " shut your mouth, if you please, sir ; you can do 
 nothing so long as you keep it thus ajar. Is your axe ready 1 ? 
 
 "It is, sir/ was the reply; and, under the direction of 
 Barsfield, the soldiei proceeded to tear away the washboard 
 which fastened down the edges of the floor, and then t.o rip iij. 
 
202 
 
 MKLLICIIAMI E. 
 
 two or three boards of the floor itself a duty soon performed 
 by the vigorous axeman. By this time, however, the smoke 
 had become dense and almost insupportable; and the moment 
 the aperture was made in the floor, admitting them to the 
 lower or basement story, where the horses had been stabled, 
 with a rapidity that defied all the efforts of their cooler com 
 mander, the tories, huddled upon one another, hurried and 
 tumbled through, glad to escape from their late predicament, 
 even with the chances before them of a hopeless and desperate 
 struggle, such as Barsficld had painted to their eyes. 
 
 The stern calmness of their leader, during all this proceed 
 ing, was creditable in the highest degree. He exhibited no 
 hurry, no apprehension none of that precipitate haste which 
 defeats execution, while it exhibits deficient character. When 
 he got below, he himself saw that each man had mounted his 
 proper steed and stoal in readhress, before he took the bridle 
 of his own. He then astfed if all were ready : he placed him 
 self in the advance, gave orders to one of the men to turn the 
 latch, but not to unclose the door a duty which he reserved 
 to himself and then addressed them in terms of the most 
 encouraging composure. 
 
 " Have no fear, men ; but each man, as he passes through 
 the door, will at once strike for the entrance of the avenue. 
 The brick foundations of the piazza and the smoke will con 
 ceal yon for a few moments. I will go first from this hole, but 
 I will be the last to move. Lieutenant Clayton will follow 
 me out, but he will lead the way to the avenue. Follow him ; 
 keej> cool keep straight forward, and only turn when you 
 turn to strike a foe. Are all ready ?" 
 
 " Ay, sir, all ready ?" was the reply. With the words, with 
 his own steed behind him, Barsfield, on foot, led him forth, and 
 was the first to emerge into the light. He was not instantlv 
 perceived by the assailants, such was the cloud of smoke be 
 tween them and the dwelling; but when, one after another, 
 with a fearful rush, each trooper bounded forth, driving for 
 ward with relentless spur to the avenue in front, then did 
 Singleton, becoming conscious of their flight, e^ive his orders 
 for pursuit. 
 
CAPRICES OF THE CONFLICT. 203 
 
 " Double quick step, riflemen ; Lurry on with you, and skirt 
 the fence. Your rifles will then cover them as they fly, and 
 Mellichampe will answer for* the rest. Quick step, men, or 
 yott lose the fire." 
 
 The partisans were prompt enough in obeying these orders, 
 but there had been some miscalculation in the distance, or the 
 speed of fear had not been taken into the estimate of those 
 Advantages, possessed by the enemy, for which Singleton be 
 lieved himself prepared. The tories were already in the avenue 
 before the riflemen reached the skirts of the park. Barsfield, 
 bringing up the rear, his huge form erect, his hand waving de 
 fiance, was the only individual at whom a shot was obtained. 
 At him several bullets were sped ; but there is a something m 
 the daring indifference of boldness which not unfrequently 
 deranges the truest aim of an enemy. Tlie tory was unhurt; 
 yet some of the rifles pointed at his back were held by the 
 best marksmen of the lower country. 
 
 But a new enemy sprang up in the pathway of the tory, and 
 the sabre of the impetuous Mellichampe once more clashed 
 with that of his enemy. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" cried Mellichampe, "you were long in coming, 
 but I have you now. You are mine at last !" 
 
 There was a demoniac delight in the expression of the 
 youth s countenance, as, with these words, he confronted his 
 foe. . 
 
 "Stand aside, boy!" was the hoarse reply of the tory, as, 
 wheeling his horse to the opposite hand of the avenue, he 
 seemed rather disposed to pass than to encounter the youth 
 Mellichampe regarded no other enemy, and the troop of Bars- 
 field mingled pell-mell in the strife with the partisans, who 
 were scattered before them up the avenue. 
 
 With the sidling movement of Barsfield, the steed of Melli 
 champe, under the impetuous direction of his rider, was wheeled 
 directly across his path, and the tory saw at a glance that the 
 encounter could not be avoided. Preparing for it, therefore, 
 with all his energies, he threw aside the weapon of his enemy, 
 and the swords recoiled from each other in the fierce collision, 
 us if with an instinct of their own. Again they bounded and 
 
204: MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 buckled together; and then there was a momentary pause in 
 the combat, as the weapons crossed in air, in which the eyes of 
 the inveterate foes glared upon* each other with the thirstful 
 expression of demoniac hate. Like lightning then, i ur a few 
 moments, the opposing blades darted around each combatant s 
 head; then came the deadly thrust and the heavy blow the 
 ready guard, and the swift stroke in return. 
 
 Though brave enough in common parlance, there was yet 
 that in the face of Mellichampe from which the tory seemed 
 to shrink. The youth had been roused by repeated wrungs, 
 and maddened by continued disappointments, which defeated 
 his promised hope of vengeance. The accumulated venom of 
 a rierce and injured spirit shot forth from his eye, and ga*;e a 
 dreadful earnestness to every effort of his arm, so that the ine 
 quality of physical strength between himself and his enemy 
 did not at iirst seem so evident. 
 
 The consciousness of having wronged the youth, and the 
 moral inferiority which, in all respects, he felt to him, neutral 
 ized in some degree the natural advantage which the tory pos 
 sessed of greater muscle, and the acquired advantage of great 
 er skill and experience. How else, indeed, could one so slender 
 as Mellichampe his bones not yet hardened to manhood, and 
 he yet in the gristle of youth contend so long and so equally 
 with a frame so huge as that of Barsfield ? How else, if the 
 heart were not conscious of right in the one and of wrong in 
 the other, could the former put aside the weighty blow of his 
 enemy with so much ease, and respond to it with so much 
 power ? Thrice, in the deadliest stroke, had he foiled the 
 tory, and now he pressed on him in return. 
 
 " It is now for me, villain," cried the youth, as he struck the 
 rowel into his steed, and rose upon his stirrups a moment after, 
 to give point with a downward stroke at the breast of his ene 
 my, whose steed had sunk, under the sudden press of his 
 rider s curb, backward upon his haunches 
 
 " It is now my turn, villain, and my father s blood clamors 
 for that of his murderer. Have at your heart. Ha !" 
 
 The stroke was descending, and was with difficulty parried 
 by the sabre of the tory. It was put aside, however, at the 
 
CAPRICES OF THE CONFLICT. 205 
 
 utmost stretch of Barsfield s arm liis body being writhed 
 round into an unnatural position for that purpose. The danger 
 was only delayed. In another moment he felt assured that the 
 stroke of Mellichampe -a backward stroke must be re 
 peated, and that he could not recover his seat in time to ward 
 it aside ; but, ere the youtfi could effect his object to which 
 he had addressed his entire energies, conscious that he now 
 had the tory at complete advantage the forefeet of his horse 
 struck upon the carcass of a slain soldier, which slipped from 
 under him, yet carrying him forward, till he stumbled irrecov 
 erably and came to his knees. 
 
 The moment was lost ; and, in the next, Barsfield had re 
 covered his seat, from which the force of Mellichampe s as- 
 saulfs, and the efforts necessary for his own defence, had half 
 uplifted him. It was his turn now to press upon his foe. 
 Wheeling his horse suddenly round, he dealt him a heavy blow 
 upon the shoulder of his sword-arm, which precipitated the 
 youth to the earth, while wounding him severely. The tory 
 would have paused to render his victory more complete ; but, 
 as he looked upon the avenue before him, he saw that he was 
 isolated. Cutting their way, without pausing for any particu 
 lar encounter such as had controlled the flight of their leader, 
 his men had sped onward ; and, though fighting with the par 
 tisans at every step, had yet succeeded in carrying the fight 
 forward to the entrance. 
 
 The tory captain saw that he had no time for delay. Wither- 
 spoon, who had been busily engaged, was now pressing toward 
 him, closely followed by another ; and, though casting a wist 
 ful look upon his prostrate enemy, as if he longed to make 
 certain his victory, the safety of his own life depended npon 
 his haste, and was infinitely more important to him than even 
 the death of so deadly an enemy as Mellichampe. Even now 
 it was doubtful what success would attend his endeavor to pass 
 the scattered partisans who lay in his path ; and he felt that 
 all his energies were required to meet the shock of Wither- 
 spoon, who was fast approaching. 
 
 While thus lie prepared himself, the shrill clamor of afresh 
 trumpet broke sud lenly upon his sense, and brought him re* 
 
206 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 lief. It anil oun ced the corning of a new force, and the proba 
 bility was that it was British. Of this Barsfield, in another 
 moment, had no doubt, as he saw Witherspoon, no longer seek 
 ing the conflict, rush past him in the direction of the burning 
 mansion. The woodman had beheld the steel caps and the 
 blue uniforms of the approaching force, and at once recognised 
 the formidable corps, two hundred strong, of the legionary 
 Tarh .ton. Barsfield rode on to meet his superior, and explain 
 the situation of affairs before him. Witherspoon, meanwhile, 
 leaping from his horse, which he let go free, rushed to the spot 
 where Mcllichampe had fallen. 
 
 " Almost 1 Airnest, boy!" he cried, as he stooped down 
 to the insensible body ] " Speak to me, Airnest speak to me, 
 it s me, Jack it s Thumbscrew, Airnest. Only say some 
 thing only a word I don t care what you says, Airnest ; 
 but say something. God ha mercy! He don t hear! he 
 can t talk. Airnest ! Airnest !" 
 
 A groan met his ears and half relieved him. 
 
 "Thank God, it taint so bad. He s got life in him yet; 
 and, if I can only carry him out of the way of the horses, 
 nnd let Miss Janet know where to find him " 
 
 Thus speaking, he raised the insensible body in his arms, 
 and hurried with him toward* the ditch, over which he 
 sought to pass. His aim was to carry the youth into the thick 
 copse beyond, where he could place him out of sight of the 
 approaching enemy. But he had overtasked his own strength, 
 after the severe fatigue and fighting which he had under 
 gone, and the labor called for more time than the circum 
 stances of the field would allow. The advance of Tarleton 
 was too rapid to permit of his performing the affectionate 
 service v/hich he contemplated for his friend ; and, before 
 he reached the ditch, the swords of the legion were flash 
 ing before his eyes, as the troop wheeled round a bend in 
 the avenue which hitherto had concealed him from their 
 sight. 
 
 " Gimini ! I must leave him, I must put you down, Air 
 nest ! I cant t help it, boy ! I did the best!" 
 
 He spoke to the insensible youth as if he could hear 
 
CAI RIOKS OF TIIK CONFLICT. ZU",: 
 
 and, with a groan that seemed to come from the bottom of his 
 soul, he laid the body down in the ditch, where it was partially 
 concealed from sight in the hollow and by the tnf ts and bushes 
 which grew along its margin. Then, with a grim look of de 
 spair cast behind him as he fled, he leaped across the ditch, 
 passed hurriedly through the copse and bordering foliage, 
 and soon gained the station at the bottom of the hill, which 
 had been assigned by Singleton at the commencement of tho 
 fray as the place "i prnonil rendezvous. 
 
208 MKLLICIIAMI E. 
 
 CHAPTER XXITi 
 
 THE THREATENED SACRIFICE. 
 
 UHAFEU witli tlic excitement of battle, and mortified with 
 tl.e humiliation of defeat, Barsfield dashed forward to meet 
 will) Tarleton, to whom lie conveyed the particulars of the af 
 fray. Tt needed but few words to do this at such a moment 
 the scene was in progress even then before the eyes of 
 the legionary. The wild shouts of the partisans, scattered 
 along the fields, and flying from the greater force approach 
 ing them the occasional sounds of the rirle the lurid glare 
 of the flames, ascending in gigantic columns from the burning 
 mansion, sufficiently informed the ready senses of a "leader so 
 intelligent and sagacious as ihe practised Tarleton. He was a 
 man of deeds rather than of words, and o, fe\v brief, quick 
 questions drew from Barsfield all that he sought to know. 
 
 " What number of rifles, Captain Barsfield> has Major Sin 
 gleton ?" 
 
 " Some thirty, sir, or more/ 
 
 " Wl.nt other force?" 
 
 " Ten or twenty horse, which *e had first broken through, 
 sir, on your approach." 
 
 " And from which our approach saved you 1" 
 
 Barsfield bowed. Tarlel.ou waved his hand, and gave his 
 troop their orders with coolness and decision In the next mo 
 ment he led them forward with a fleet paeo clown the avenue, 
 toward the burning dwelling and the park. He thought to 
 find his enemy scattered and unprepared, as he now and then 
 beheld in the distance, by the light of the flames, an occasional 
 figure darting by, seemingly in flight, and the shouts of the par 
 tisans rose here and there from opposite quarters of the area. 
 
THE THREATENED SACRIFICE. 2^9 
 
 The sight of these figures and the insulting shouts stimulated 
 his advance, and aroused his natural appetite for strife. With 
 habitual impetuosity, he hurried forward in a quick trot, making 
 for the point which most immediately promised him an encoun 
 ter with his foe. 
 
 He found them much sooner than he had expected. His 
 enemy was prepared for him. Singleton was apprized of the, 
 approach of Tarleton quite as soon as Barsfield in the avenue, 
 and he now prepared to execute the orders of Marion, for which 
 the present condition of things gave him a favorable opportu 
 nity. He threw his men without the park. The fences lay be 
 tween the two parties. One half of his force he immediately 
 iient down the hill to prepare the horses, putting them in read 
 iness for instant flight. His riflemen, who had been too late 
 to check the retreat of Barsfield, Averc nevertheless just in time 
 on the outer edge of the park, and skirting one side of the 
 avenue, Avith its thick copse interposing sufficiently to protect 
 them from a charge of cavalry, to gall the advance of Tarle 
 ton. They received their orders, and stood prepared to exe 
 cute them. Covered by the trees, each man stood in silence, 
 prepared to single out his enemy, and immediately after scud 
 off along the fences, and join his comrades at the foot of the 
 hill. Cool and watchful, Singleton remained at hand to watch 
 the progress of both parties. He himself had prepared to do 
 a like duty with his men. He had thrown aside the sabre, and 
 a favorite rifle in his hands was quite as deadly a Aveapor as 
 iii that of any other of his troop. The legion came bounding 
 forward, and the signal for their hostile reception came from 
 the rifle of the partisan commander. It had its echoes each 
 ;n> echo of death and the advancing column of Tarleton in 
 that narrow avenue, reeled and recoiled under the fatal dis 
 charge. A dozen troopers fell from their saddles with the fire, 
 stiffening in the fast embrace of death, and scarce conscious 
 of their wounds. But in another instant the fierce voicr of 
 Tarleton, clamorous and shrill, rose like that of a trumpet 
 above all other sounds 
 
 " Scoundrels, forward ! Wherefore do ye pause? Through 
 the bush to the right charge, rascals, ere J cleave ye dowii 
 
*/) the earth ! Charge the d d rebels charge and give 
 
 no quarter !" 
 
 The ditch was cleared the obedient troopers, accustomed 
 hitherto only to victory under the lead of Tarleton, went 
 .ver the bank and scrambled through the copse with more 
 I siring than success. The overhanging branches were hewn 
 away in an instant a path was cleared for the advance 
 through the close foliage, and, like bold cavaliers, a. score of 
 the troopers made their way through the obstruction. Hut 
 where was the enemy? Where were they whose fatal rifles 
 had dealt them so much loss? They had melted away like- 
 so many shadows they were gone. Fiercely the dragoons 
 dealt idle blows upon the surrounding bushes, which might 
 have been supposed to shelter a lurking rifleman, but their 
 sabres clashed together and found no foe. The partisans had 
 vanished from their sight, but they had not yet gone. While 
 yet the dragoons gazed bewildered and in wonderment, the re 
 peated shot from the same select and deadly marksmen singled 
 them out, one by one, from another sheltered clump of wood, 
 not more than fifty yards in advance ; and the remaining few 
 who had passed into the open ground and were still exposed, 
 could hear the distinct commands of Singleton 
 " Another round, men one more. Each Iiis man." 
 The partisan had managed admirably, but he was now com 
 pelled to fly. The advantage of ground was no longer with 
 him. Tarleton, with his entire force, had now passed through 
 the avenue, and had appeared in the open court in front. The 
 necessity of rapid flight now became apparent to Singleton, 
 and the wild lively notes of his trumpet were accordingly 
 hoard stirring the air at not more than rifle distance from the 
 gathering troop of Tarleton. Bitterly aroused by this seeming 
 audacity an audacity to which Tarleton, waging a war 
 hitherto of continual successes, had never been accu.stnmed, 
 his ire grew into fury - 
 
 "What, men! shall these rebels carry it so?" he cried 
 aloud. " Advance, Captain Barsfield advance to the right 
 if the fence with twenty men, and stop not to mark yonr 
 
THE THREATENED SACRIFICE, 211 
 
 Advar.ee, sir, and charge forward. You should know 
 the ground by this time. Away!" 
 
 To another he cried striking the neck of his steed inrpa- 
 Montly with the broad side of his sabre- 
 
 " Captain Kearney, to yon wood ! Sweep it, sir, with your 
 sabres ; and meet me in the rear of the garden !" 
 
 The officers thus commanded moved to the execution of then 
 charges with sufficient celerity. The commands and more 
 ments of Major Singleton were much more cool and not loss 
 prompt. He hurried along by his scattered men, as they lay 
 here and there, covered by this or that bush or tree. 
 
 " Carry off no bullets that you can spare them, men fire 
 as soon as they reach the garden, and, when your pieces are 
 clear, take down the hill and mount." 
 
 Three minutes did not elapse before the rifles had each 
 poured forth its treasured death ; and, without pausing to be 
 hold the effects of their discharge, each partisan, duly obe 
 dient, was on his way, leaping off from cover to cover through 
 the thick woods to the hollow where their horses had beer 
 fastened. 
 
 The furious Tarleton meanwhile led the way through th 
 garden, the palings of which were torn away to give his cav 
 alry free passage. With a soldier s rage, and the impatience 
 :>f one not often baffled, he hurried forward the pursuit, in a 
 line tolerably direct, after the flying partisans. But Singleton 
 was too good a soldier, and too familiar with the ground, to 
 keep his men in mass in a wild flight through woods be 
 coming denser at every step. When they had reached a knoll 
 at some little distance beyond the place where his horses had 
 ?^on fastened, he addressed his troon as follows: 
 
 " We must break here, my men. Each man will take hip 
 own path, and we will all scatter as far apart as possible. 
 Make your way, all of you, for the swamp, however : where, 
 in a couple, of hours, you may all bo safe. Lance .Frampton ; 
 you will ride with me." 
 
 Each trooper knew the country, and, accustomed to indivir* 
 oal enterprise and the duties of the scout, there was :i< 
 hardship to the men of Marion in such a separation. On all 
 
212 MELLTC1IAMPK. 
 
 hands they glided off, and at a far freer pace than wlier. 
 they rode together in a body. A thousand tracks they found 
 in the woods about them, in pursuing which there was now no 
 obstruction no justling of brother horsemen pressing upon 
 fhe same rente. Singleton and his youthful companion dart 
 ed away at an easy pace into the woods, in which they 
 had scarcely shrouded themselves before they heard the rush 
 ing and fierce cries of Tarletoivs dragoons. 
 
 " Do you remember, Lance," said Singleton to the boy 
 do you remember, the chase we had from the Oaks, when 
 Proctor pursued us ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir and a narrow chance it was when your horse 
 tumbled. I thought they would have caught and killed yon 
 then, sir; but I didn t know anything of fighting in the 
 woods then." 
 
 " Keep cool, and there s little danger anywhere/ respond, d 
 Singleton. " Men in a hurry are always in danger. To be safe, 
 be steady. But ha ! do you not hear them now ? Some of 
 them have got upon our track." 
 
 " I do hear a noise, sir there was a dry bush that cracked 
 then." 
 
 " And a voice that was a shout. Let us stop for a rnomeir 
 and reload. A shot may be wanted." 
 
 Coolly dismounting, Singleton proceeded to charge his 
 rifle, which had been slung across his shoulder. His com 
 panion did the same. While loading, the former felt, a slight 
 pain and stiffness in his left. arm. 
 
 :i I am hurt. Lance, I do believe. Look hero at my shoul 
 der." 
 
 " There s blood, sir -and the coat s cut with a bullet. Tlu 
 bullet s in your arm, sir." 
 
 No not now. It has been there, I believe, though th = 
 wound is slight. There, now mount we have no time to 
 see it now." 
 
 " That s true, sir, for I hear the horses ; and, look now, ma- 
 Sor. there s two of the dragoons coming through the bush, 
 and straight toward us." 
 
 " Two only ?" said Singleton, again unslinging h : s rile 
 
TJ1E TllJi.hA.TKNKI) SACLiLFICK 
 
 The boy readily understood the movement, and proceeded to 
 do likewise, but he was too late. The shot of Singleton was 
 immediate, and the foremost trooper fell forward from his 
 horse. His companion fled. 
 
 "Don t light, Lance keep on. There s only one now, and 
 he won t trouble us. The other poor devil ! his horse was 
 too fleet for his master s safety. Away, sir." 
 
 It Avas time to speed. The report of the shot and the fall 
 of the dragoon gave a direction to the whole force of the pur 
 suers, whose shouts and cries might now be heard ringing in 
 all directions of the forest behind them. 
 
 " They can t reach us, Lance. We shall round that bay in 
 a few seconds, and they will be sure to boggle into it. On, 
 boy, and waste no eyesight in looking behind you. We are 
 safe. I only hope that all our boys are as much so. But I fear 
 that we have lost some fine fellows. Poor Mellichampe ! but 
 it is too late now. Push on the bay is before us." 
 
 Thus speaking, guiding and encouraging the boy, the fear 
 less partisan kept on. In a few minutes they had rounded the 
 thick bay, and were deeply sheltered in a dense wood, well 
 known at that period by a romantic title, which doubtless had 
 its story. 
 
 "My Lady s Fancy. We are safe now, Lance, and a little 
 rest will do no harm." 
 
 The partisan, as he spoke, drew up his horse, threw himself 
 from his back, fastened him to a hanging branch, and, passing 
 down to a hollow where a little brooklet ran trickling along 
 with a gentle murmur, drank deeply of its sweet and quiet 
 waters, which he scooped up with a calabash that hung on a 
 bough, waving in the breeze above. Then tin-owing himself 
 down under the shadow of the tree, he lay as quietly as if 
 there had been no danger tracking his footsteps, and no deadly 
 enemy still prowling in the neighborhood and hungering for 
 his blood. 
 
 The chase was given over, and the lively tones of the bugle 
 recalled the pursuers. The legionary colonel stood upon a 
 hillock, awaiting the return of the men, who came in slowly 
 and half exhausted from the profitless pursuit. He wiped 
 
the dust and sweat from his brow, b-.it a rigid and deep blue 
 vein lay like a cord across bis forehead. A gloomy obud 
 hung about bis eyes, and yet bis lips, pale, and seemingly 
 passionless, were parted with a smile. They quivered slightly, 
 and the tips of his white teeth rested upon the lower lip for 
 a moment, as if to control his speech, when he beheld the 
 person of the tory captain among those approaclm g him. 
 
 " And now, what of this affair, Captain Barsficld ? We have 
 time now to speak of it," was the salutation of Tarleton ; 
 and be alighted from his steed as he spoke, and the point 
 of his sabre was made to revolve quickly, while be lis 
 tened upon the np-curling peak of his thick military boot. 
 Barsficld briefly narrated the events which we have wit Q 
 nessed, and, saving some little natural exaggeration of the 
 numbers on the side of the partisans, with tolerable correct 
 ness. The narrative, as he listened, did not seem to diminish 
 the disquiet of his hearer. 
 
 " But fifty men, you say ? the entire force of the rebels 
 but, fifty men ! and your force, if I err not, thirty at the 
 least. But fifty men !" 
 
 " There may have been ; indeed, sir, there must have been 
 more; and " 
 
 "Abaci business, sir; a very bad business, Captain Bars- 
 field," said the other interrupting him. " The affair has not 
 been rightly managed, though where the defect lay may not 
 now be said. What force was it you encountered in the 
 morning ?" 
 
 " A squad of thirty, sir, and more. I had defeated them, 
 and they would have been cut to pieces, but for the sudden 
 appearance of the troop of Major Singleton, which you have 
 just dispersed." 
 
 " No more, sir; no more. Take your men, and examine the 
 ground and the avenue. Sec to the wounded prisoners, Cap 
 tain Barsfield ; have them w,ll secured, and ascertain the ex 
 tent of your own loss. There must be an inquiry into this 
 business quickly. Move, sir we have no time to lose." 
 
 The blood mounted into the tory s cheek as be listened to 
 these orders ; the fire of intense satisfaction glared and gath- 
 
Till-: THKLATKIx Kl >. \CRIKICE. 215 
 
 ered in his eye, and, fearful that his feeling would be seen 
 by the piercing glance of Tarleton, he turned away instantly 
 in the execution of his orders. A fierce hope of vengeance, 
 yet to be satisfied, was at his heart. He had not forgotten that 
 his mortal enemy lay wo.unded on that field. He knew that 
 although wounded, Mellichampe was yet alive. The command 
 to scour the scene of conflict was precisely the command which 
 lie most desired; affording him, as it did, an opportunity of 
 making certain the stroke which even in the hurry of battle, he 
 had considered incomplete. A fierce emotion of delight, under 
 which he trembled, seized upon his frame as he heard the com 
 mand; and, bowing with ill-concealed satisfaction to his supe 
 rior, lie hurried away with all the rapidity of a newly-stimu 
 lated passion, not merely to the execution of his orders, bul 
 to the final consummation of his own bloody scheme of ven 
 geance the death of that hated rival, in the pursuit of 
 which he had been so often baffled when most sanguine of suc 
 cess. The knife was now in his hand, however, and th<s devoted 
 victim lay before him. 
 
MSLLICHAMPE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 6KKTCU&3 <>*< TliK STRIFE. 
 
 LET us retraca our steps ; le* us go back in our narrative, 
 and review tli3 feelings an I the fortunes of other parties to our 
 story, not less important in its details, and quite as dear in o;u 
 regards. Let us seek the teir^Grary dwelling of the Berkeley 
 family, and contemplate tlu condition and the employment, of 
 its inmates during the progress of the severe strife of which 
 we have given a partial history. Its terrors were not less 
 imposing to them than they were to those who had been actors 
 in the conflict. To the young maidens, indeed, it certainly 
 was far more terrible than to the brave men, warmed with the 
 provocation and reckless from the impulses of strife. And 
 yet, how differently did the events of the day affect the two 
 maidens how forcibly did they bring out and illustrate their 
 very different characters ! To the casual observer, there was 
 very little change in the demeanor of Janet Berkeley, She 
 seemed the same subdued, sad, yet enduring and uncomplain 
 ing creature, looking for affliction because she had been so 
 often subjected to its pressure; yet, from that very cause, 
 looking for it without apprehension, and in all the strength of 
 religious resignation. 
 
 Not so with her more volatile companion. The terrors of 
 the fight, so near at hand, so novel in its forms, and so fearful 
 to one who never, till now, had associated it in her thought 
 with any other features than those of old romance where 
 the gorgeousness and the glitter, the cheering music and the 
 proud array, were contrived to conceal the danger, if not to 
 salve the hurts brought to her other and more paralyzing sen 
 sations. All her levity departed with the approach and pros* 
 
SKETCHES OF TUK STIilFI-;. 217 
 
 ence of the reality, of which, hitherto, she had but dreamed, 
 and the images of which, seen through the medium of her 
 imagination and not her heart, had until now presented her 
 with no other forms than those of loveliness or power. The 
 ^rst Jjead sounds of battle, the first crash and commotion of 
 the conflict, taught her other feelings; and, with each reiter 
 ated shout or groan, her emotion increased to a passion of fear 
 that became painful even to her companion herself full of 
 the warmest apprehensions for her lover s safety, and laboring 
 under a true sense of. the growing and gathering miseries 
 around her. But it is at such a moment that the true nature 
 of the mind the true strength of the heart the spirit, and 
 the soul, and the affections, rise into impressive and control 
 ling action. It was then that the majesty of a devoted woman, 
 conscious of all the danger, yet not unprepared to meet it with 
 him to whom her heart was given, shone forth in the beaiing 
 of Janet Berkeley. 
 
 The light, thoughtless heart of Rose Duncan, untutored and 
 unimpressed as yet by any of the vicissitudes of life, had few 
 moods but what were hurrying and of a transient nature,. She 
 was unprepared for any but passing impressions. Her fancy 
 had been active always, and her heart, in consequence, had 
 grown subordinate. Affliction, the snbduer, the modifier 
 she who checks passion in its tumults, and tempers to sedate- 
 ness the warm feelings which would sometimes mount into 
 madness had brought her no sober counsels. Small but ac 
 cumulating cares, which benefit by their frequent warnings, 
 had never taught her to meditate much or often upon the 
 various sorrows and the many changes, as frequent in the 
 moral atmosphere as in the natural, which belong to life. 
 That grave tale-bearer Time, whoso legends are nevt>r want 
 ing in their moral to those who read, had taken no heed of 
 her education. That stern strcngthener and impelling mis 
 tress, Necessity, had never, in order to bring out its resources, 
 subjected each feeling of her heart to bondage, putting a curb 
 upon the capricious emotion and the buoyant fancy. She 
 heard of care from books, which seldom describe it in its true 
 features, but it was only to regard it as a something which is 
 
218 MKI.UCIIAMPK. 
 
 to give a zest to pleasure by sometimes changing its aspect; 
 as in conserves we employ a slight -bitter, in order to relieve 
 pleasantly the cloying insipidity of their sweet. She had 
 never yet seen in Sorrow the twin-sister of Humanity, born 
 with it at its birth, keeping due pace with it, though pcvl-ap" 
 unseen, in its progress through the flowery places as v.ril a* 
 through the tangled wilderness ;, clinging to it, inseparably, 
 through all its fortunes; clouding, at times, its most pleasant 
 sunshine with a look of reproof; chiding its sweetest anticipa 
 tions with the language of homily; and pressing it downward, 
 at last, to the embrace of their common mother Earth, until 
 even Ilope takes its flight, yielding the struggle for the .pres 
 ent, and possibly withholding its assurance from the future. 
 
 Thus, utterly uneducated by the heart s best tutors, the 
 novel terrors now before her eyes left her entirely without 
 support in reflection. She was convulsed with apprehension ; 
 the fierce oaths of the hurrying troops grated with a new form 
 of danger upon her fancy; every wild shout smote painfully 
 upon her senses; and the sharp shot, directed, as she now 
 knew it to be, against the bosom of a feeling and a living man 
 while teaching her properly to realize the truth, totally un 
 nerved and left her powerless. She shrank upon the floor in 
 her terrors, as the dreadful din came to her ears, and crawled 
 to the window, where her cousin sat in speechless apprehen 
 sion. There, like a frightened child, she sat clinging to the 
 drapery of Janet, while continued sobs and momentary excla 
 mations betrayed her new consciousness of danger, and her own 
 inadequacy of strength to contend with it. 
 
 How different was the deportment of Janet! How subdued 
 her grief how unobtrusive her emotions how sustained her 
 spirit Jiow governing her reason ! She shrunk not from the 
 contemplation of that danger whose terrors her mind had loi.g 
 since been taught to contemplate at a distance. Drawing her 
 chair beside a little window, which looked forth directly upon 
 the scene of battle, and scarcely in perfect security from its 
 random shot, she gazed upon the progress of events, and exhib 
 ited in comparison with Rose, who sat upon the iloor and saw- 
 nothing, but little consciousness, and certainly no fears, of its 
 
awful terrors. Yet her emotions were not less active, lier feel 
 ings not less susceptible and warm, than those of her com 
 panion. It was, indeed, because her consciousness was so 
 deep, her love so abiding, her fears so thick and overflowing, 
 that she had no audible, emotions. The waters of her heart 
 were too far down for display ; it is only in the shallows that 
 the Ireakers leap up, and chafe, and murmur. They speak 
 not for themselves, but for the overfull and heaving ocean that 
 gathers and settles, gloomily and great, in the distance. The 
 clamor of her cousin s fear had spoken for hers; and yet how 
 full of voice, how touching the language of silence, when we 
 know that the full heart is running over. How thrilling is the 
 brief, gasping, sudden exclamation, which utters all, because 
 we feel that it has uttered nothing! 
 
 She sat with her hands clasped ; her soul sad and sick, but 
 strong; her eyes intently gazing, as if they would burst from 
 their sockets, upon the wild scene of confusion going on around 
 her. And when the strife began warmly in the first stage, 
 and before the house was fired when she knew nothing of 
 the progress of events, and heard nothing but the sharp and 
 frequent shot, without knowing what had been its effect; when 
 the shriek of agony reached her ears faintly from afar, and 
 there came no word to her to say that the wounded victim was 
 not the one, of all in that controversy, to whom her thought 
 and. her prayer were most entirely given it was then that 
 she felt the agony which yet she did not speak. In her mind 
 she strove to think a prayer for his success and for his safety, 
 and sometimes the words of aspiration were muttered brokenly 
 from her lips; but the prayer died away in her heart, and the 
 dreadful incidents of earth going on around her kept back her 
 thoughts from God. 
 
 A terrible cry of satisfaction was uttered by the partisans, 
 as in the conflict they beheld one of the defenders of the 
 house distinctly fall back from the window at which he had 
 exposed himself. The rifle had been too quick and fatal for 
 his escape. The sound smote upon the senses of Janet with a 
 new fear; and Rose, in her childish terror, nearly dragged hei 
 from the seat 
 
MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 "Father of mercies, spare him! spare them all! Soften 
 their hearts let them not spill blood!" was the involuntary 
 prayer of Janet. "Rose, do not go on so; do not fear; you 
 are not in danger, dear Hose: but keep on the floor; the shot 
 can not reach you there." 
 
 " But you, Janet you are in danger at the window : conn 
 down, dear Janet, and sit with me. The bullets will be sure 
 to hit you. Comedown. I m so afraid." 
 
 "Pull rne not down, Rose; there is no danger here, for the 
 shot do not fly in this direction. They fly all toward the 
 garden, where our people are, under the trees." 
 
 " Where ? do you see them, Janet ?" cried Rose, half rising. 
 
 "Yes; hush there!" But a cry and a shot at that mo 
 ment frightened the other to her place upon the floor, and 
 she sank down with renewed trepidation. 
 
 " I see them now, all of them : some stand behind the water- 
 oaks; and I see two crawling along under the bushes. God 
 preserve them ! Should Barsfield know they are there, he 
 could kill them, for there are no trees between them and the 
 house nothing but the bushes. Oh God !" 
 
 The exclamation startled Rose with a new terror 
 
 "What, Janet?" 
 
 "I see him! Rash Mellichampe ! I see him, and he is 
 mounted. The torics must see him too. Why ! oh, why will he 
 expose himself! why does he not keep behind the trees! Jle 
 stands he does not move. Barsfield must soon see him now. 
 ^b % Ernest!" and, her emotion assuming the ascendency, 
 she arose from her chair, and motioned with her hand, and 
 cried with her voice, now feeble and husky from affright, as it 
 he to whom it was addressed could hear it at such a distance 
 
 "He hears me he moves away. Oh, dear Ernest ! lie is 
 now behind the trees. Thank God.be is safe!" and she sank 
 again into her seat, and fondly believed, at that moment, that 
 he had heard her warnings and complied with her entreaties 
 There was a pause in the conflict Neither shot nor shout 
 came to their senses. 
 
 "Is it over, Janet ?" cried Rose. "Have they done fight 
 ing? I hear nothing. There is no danger now." 
 
SKETCHES OF THE STRIFE. ^ 
 
 " Would it were over, Rose ; but I fear it is not. I see the 
 men watching behind the trees. Some arc riding away, and 
 nome are creeping still around the fence. It blinds me to 
 look; it maddens me to think, Rose, that he is there, exposed 
 to the murderous aim of those merciless tories, in the danger 
 which I may not keep him from, which I do not share with 
 lii in. Pray, Rose pray, dearest, for the safety of our men. 
 Pray, for I can not. I can only look." 
 
 "Nor I. But how can you look? The very thought of it 
 is too horrible." 
 
 "The thought of it to me is more dreadful than the sight," 
 was the answer of Janet. "Months have gone by, Rose, since 
 I first began to think of battle and of Mellichampe s hourly 
 danger ; and when I thought of it then, it was far more terrible 
 than now, when I look upon it before me. But oh, dearest 
 Rose, how awful is that silence! There is no shouting; there 
 are no cries of blood and death, and yet they are planning 
 death. They are meditating how best to succeed in slaughter 
 ing their fellow-creatures." 
 
 "Do you see them now, Janet?" 
 
 "Yes, there, behind the trees. Look now, Rose. There is 
 now no danger, I think." 
 
 The more timid girl rose to survey the distant array, which 
 she did with all the eager curiosity of childhood. The bugle 
 sounded. 
 
 "Ah, Rose, they are in council. See them under the great 
 pak, yonder, to the left there, close by the stunted cedar?" 
 
 "I see, I see. How their swords glitter, Janet. II ow 
 beautiful, how strange ! And that trumpet, how shrilly sweet, 
 how strong and wild its notes, seeming like the cry of some 
 mighty bird as it rushes through the storm. Oh, Janet, what 
 a beautiful thing is war !" 
 
 " So is death, sometimes. Beautiful, but terrible. Alas that 
 man should seek to make crime lovely ! Alas that woman 
 should so admire power and courage as to forget the cruelties 
 in their frequent employ. God keep us! they are going to 
 fight again." 
 
 With a scream Rose sank again to the floov, grasping the 
 
222 
 
 MELLICHAMPK. 
 
 dress of her companion, and clinging to it with all the trepida 
 tion of childhood. 
 
 "Ah ! they lift their rifles. I see three of them tluit kiu el 
 behind the trees, and they have their aim upon something, i.ui 
 what I can not see. What is it they would shoot? They are 
 pointed to the house, too. I see now : two of the tories are at 
 >ne window. God help them, why do they not hide them 
 selves?" 
 
 " Are they gone now, Janet ?" asked Rose in the momei.tarv 
 silence of her companion. 
 
 " I know not ; I can not look again. Ha ! the shot ! the 
 shot ! the rifles ! They are slain !" 
 
 The sharp, sudden sound of the rifles followed almost in 
 stantly the inquiry of Rose Duncan, and the eyes of Janet 
 instantly turned, as under some fascination, toward the win 
 dow. The troopers were no longer to be seen. Shuddering 
 as with convulsion, she turned from the window and sank 
 down beside her more timid companion. But her heart was 
 too -full of anxiety to suffer her to remain long where she had 
 fallen. The sounds again ceased, and she ventured to rise 
 once more and look forth upon the prospect, She now saw the 
 scene more distinctly. The partisans had somewhat changed 
 their position, and were now nearer the cottage. Singleton 
 stood beneath a tree, with several of his officers about him. 
 The quick eye of Janet readily distinguished her lover amoii- 
 them. HP stood erect, graceful, and firm as ever, and she for 
 got her fears, her sorrows : he was unhurt. While she looked, 
 they moved away from the spot, and she now beheld them 
 making a circuit round the park so as to avoid unnecessary 
 exposure to th* tory bullets, and approaching the little cottage 
 in which the family found shelter. 
 
 "Heavens! Rose, they are coming here the officers. 
 What can they want? There may be some one hurt. Vet 
 no, it does not look so." 
 
 " Then the fighting is over, Janet." 
 
 " No, no, I fear not, for I see the riflemen all around the 
 house, and watching it closely from beneath the trees, Tint 
 here they come, the officers, and he is among 1 them. (J 
 
 o, 
 
SKK ICHKS OF T1IK STRIFK. 
 
 dearest, and send my father to meet them. L cnn not. I will 
 rather sit here and wait until they are gone." 
 
 The partisans sought the house the better to carry on 
 the.ir deliberations. They obtained some refreshments from 
 Mr. Berkeley, and then proceeded to confer on the subject of 
 the leaguer. We have seen the result of their deliberations, 
 in the gift which Janet had made to her lover of the bow ;iu<! 
 arrows. It will not need that we dwell longer upon the 
 Lflt us proceed to others, in which she also had a share. 
 
 e v < > i , 
 
MKLLICHAJflPE 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 
 
 THE COURAGE OF LOV1. 
 
 TmiorflHOUT the conflict, a close and deeply interested 
 observer, Janet Berkeley had never once departed from her 
 post of watch. She had felt all the sickness the dreadful 
 sickness of suspense. She suffered all the terrors of one 
 anxious in the last degree about the result of the battle, yet 
 perfectly conscious of its thousand uncertainties. The wild 
 And various cries of the warriors now of triumph and now of 
 defeat, or physical agony went chillingly to her heart; yet, 
 the sentinel of love, jealous of her watch, and solicitous of the 
 safety of that over which it was held, she kept her place, in 
 spite of all the solicitations of Rose and of her equally appre 
 hensive father. She did not seem conscious of her own danger 
 while she continued to think of that of Mellichampe ; and, so 
 long as the battle lasted, could she think of anything else? 
 She did not. 
 
 We have seen the patriotic resolution with which she de 
 voted the family mansion to destruction. She had beheld the 
 application of the torch she had seen the arrow winged with 
 flame smiting the sacred roof which had sheltered so many 
 generations, and with that glorious spirit which so elevated 
 the maidens of Carolina during the long struggle of the revo 
 lution making them rather objects of national than of social 
 contemplation she had felt a triumphant glow of self-gratu- 
 lation that it had been with her to contribute to a cause doubly 
 sacred, as it involved the life of her country not less than that 
 of her lover. With hands clasped and tearful eyes, she had 
 prayed as fervently for the conflagration of the dwelling as, at 
 
THE COURAGE OF LOVE. 225 
 
 another time and other more favorable auspices, she would 
 have prayed and labored for its preservation and safety. 
 
 With an intensity of feeling not surpassed by that of any 
 one of the "brave men commingling in the strife, she had be 
 held the progress of the flame. How her heart beat when, 
 more remote from the smoky cloud which hung all around the 
 dwelling, she had seen, sooner than the partisans, the impet 
 uous rush mounted all, and with blazing weapons of Bars- 
 field arid his party ! But when she heard the clash of sabres 
 in front of the dwelling, and in the narrow avenue which led 
 to it, when she listened to the sounds of that conflict which she 
 could no longer see, it was then that her spirit sickened most. 
 Imagination the feverish fancy grew active and impatient. 
 Crowding fears came gathering about her heart, which grew 
 cold under their influence. Her head swam tlizzily, until at 
 length, in utter exhaustion, she sank from the seat at the 
 window, and strove feebly, on bended knees, by the side of 
 the trembling Rose, once more to pray. But she could not : 
 the words refused to come to her lips; the thoughts of her 
 mind were too wild, too foreign, and not to be coerced ; they 
 were in the field of battle striving in its strife in the cruel 
 strife of man with man. How could she bring her mind, thus 
 employed, and at such a moment, with all its horrid and un 
 holy associations of crime and terror, even for the purposes of 
 supplication, into the presence of her God? She dared not. 
 
 She started from her knees as she heard the tread of hurry 
 ing feet around the dwelling. She reached the window in 
 time to see that four of the partisans were employed in bearing 
 one in their arms, who seemed dead or fatally wounded. 
 They laid him down under the shelter of some trees behind 
 the house, and the moment after she saw them hurrying back 
 to the avenue. She tried to call to them, she sought to know 
 who was the wounded man ; but the words died away in inar 
 ticulate sounds. She could not speak; and, in an instant, 
 they were out of sight. Her agony became insupportable. 
 Who was the victim ? Her fears, her imagination, answered. 
 She watched her time, during the momentary inattention of 
 her father, and, without declaring her intention to Rose, she 
 
226 MELLICIIAMPK. 
 
 stole out of the apartment. She hurried from the- house un 
 seen. She readied the tree under which the dead body had 
 been laid. It was covered with a cloak, which was stained 
 with blood, apparently still flowing from the bosom of the 
 wounded man. She dared not lift the garment. Her hand 
 was extended, but trembled feebly above it. But she heard 
 approaching voices, and was nerved for the occasion. She 
 hastily threw the cloak from the face, and once more she 
 breathed freely: the features were unknown happily un 
 known. There was none to feel the loss while bending over 
 him ; and she rejoiced, with a sad pleasure, that the loss was 
 not hers. 
 
 She hurried back with a new life to the apartment, and had 
 scarcely reached it when she heard the sound of a trumpet borne 
 upon the winds from a direction opposite, and beyond, that in 
 which the combatants had been engaged. A new enemy was 
 at hand. The shrill and inspiriting notes approached rapidly, 
 swelling more and more loudly until the avenue was gained, 
 and then there was a pause a dreadful silence among 
 those who had lately been so fearfully at strife. In a few 
 moments after, and she saw Major Singleton rush toward her, 
 followed by several of his men. She heard his orders dis 
 tinctly, and they brought a new terror to her soul. 
 
 " Forward, John Davis, with a dozen rifles, and bring off 
 Mellichampe : that bugle is Tarleton s, and the whole of the 
 mounted men of the legion are upon him. Give the advance 
 a close fire, and that will relieve him ; then fall back behind 
 those bays reload, and renew your fire. That done, take to 
 the branch, and stand prepared to mount. Away !" 
 
 They obeyed him promptly, stole up behind the copse, and 
 received the advance of Tarleton with a fire as of one man. 
 We have seen the result: the enemy leaped the ditch, broke 
 through the copse, and found no foe. But the purposed relief 
 of Mellichampe came too late to bring off the brave youth for 
 whose succor it had been intended. The personal effort of 
 Witherspoon had failed also. That faithful attendant had 
 barely crossed the ditch when the riflemen came forward 
 Having no rifle, he could not contribute to their strength ; and, 
 
THE COURAGE OP LOVK. J&J 
 
 with a word, pointing out to them a proper cover, he hurried 
 forward with all despatch to the place of rendezvous. But, 
 though h<? strove to avoid being seen by any of the household 
 while passing, as he was compelled to do, the little cottage in 
 which the Berkeley family were collected, he could not escape* 
 the quick, apprehensive eye of Janet. She saw him approach 
 ing, she saw that he was seeking safety in flight, and, what 
 was of more appalling concern to her, knowing his attachment 
 to Mellichampe, she saw that he fled alone, llou quick, how 
 far-darting, is the eye of apprehension ! She could read the 
 expression of his countenance as he approached, even as a 
 book. She saw the question answered in his face which her 
 lips had yet not asked. How slowly did he approach : she 
 rose her hand was lifted and waved to him; but, when lie 
 looked toward her, he increased his speed. She cried aloud 
 to him in her desperation : 
 
 "Come to me, John Witherspoon come to me, if you have 
 pity but for one moment!" 
 
 Did he hear her ? lie did not answer; but, as if he guess 
 ed her meaning from her action, he flung up his arms in air, as 
 if to say, "Despair, despair ! all s lo-st !" for so her heart 
 interpreted his action and in another instant he was out of 
 sight. The riflemen followed soon behind him, stealing from 
 cover to cover in the neighboring foliage, and had scarcely 
 been hidden from her gaze before the fierce troopers of Tarle- 
 ton came bounding after them. Vainly did her eyes strain in 
 the examination of the forms of those who fled ; she saw not 
 the one of all he whom alone she sought for ; ami the fear 
 of his fate grew into absolute certainty when the blue uniforms 
 of the terrible legion came out on every hand before her. She 
 saw them hurrying fast and far after the flying partisans, and 
 every blast of the trumpet, as it died away in the distance, 
 brought a new pang into her mind, until the agony became in 
 supportable. She determined to suffer no longer under tho 
 gnawing suspense which clamored at her heart. 
 
 " I will know the worst: I cannot bear this agony, and 
 live !" 
 
 Thus murmuring, she started from her place by the window 
 
228 MKLLICHAMPK. 
 
 ai d turned to the feeble Rose, who still lay upon the floor at 
 her feet, in a degree of mental and physical prostration full as 
 great, even now, as at the first moment in which the baUlo 
 joined. 
 
 {t Rose, dear Rose, will you go with me ?" 
 
 Where, go where, Janet? You frighten me !" 
 
 " There is no danger now. Go with me, Rose, dear cousin, 
 let me not go alone." 
 
 " But tell me where, dearest Janet ? Where would you 
 go? and you look so strange and wild; put up your hair, 
 Janet." 
 
 "No no no matter. It is no time. I must go, I must 
 seek him, Rose, and I would not go alone. Come with me, 
 dearest, my sister, come with me. Believe me. there can 
 he no danger only to the avenue." 
 
 "What, where they ve hecn fighting, and in all that horrid 
 blood ?" cried the other, in a voice that was a shriek. 
 
 "Even there where there is blood where oh, God be 
 with me ! where there must be death. I go to seek for it, 
 Rose, though, I would not find it if I could," solemnly, and 
 with clasped and uplifted hands, responded the devoted maiden. 
 
 " Never, never," cried the other. 
 
 " Rose, dear Rose, will you let me go alone? I beg you, 
 Rose, on my knees, there is no danger now." 
 
 " There is danger, Janet, and they will murder us. I heard 
 them crying and shouting only a miiiute ago ; and, there, 
 there is that dreadful trumpet now, whose sounds go like a 
 sword-stab to my heart. I can not, Janet i dare not : there, 
 is danger." 
 
 " None : on my life, Rose, there is no danger now. Our 
 people have retreated, and the dragoons have all gone oil in 
 pursuit. They are now a great way oft , and we can get back 
 to the house long before they return. Do not fear, Rose, but 
 go with me, only for a little while." 
 
 " I can not, I will not go among the dead bodies. You would 
 not have me go there, Janet ; you surely will not go yourself?" 
 
 " Ay, there, Rose, even there, among the dying and the 
 dead, if it. must be so. I may serve the one, I have no cause 
 
THE COURAGE OF LOVE. 229 
 
 to fear the other. It may be it must be dreadful to look 
 upon, but my heart holds it to be a duty that I should go there 
 now, and, if not a duty, it is a desire that I can not control. 
 I must go, Rose, and I would not go alone." 
 
 " I will not ; forgive me, Janet, but I should go mad to see 
 the blood and the dead bodies. I can not go." 
 
 " God be with me ! I must go alone :" and, as she replied 
 thus, giving her solemn determination, her eyes were uplifted 
 in a holy appeal to the Almighty Being, whose presence, 
 in the absence of all others, she had invoked for her adventure. 
 
 " Hold me not, Hose, I am resolved. I must go, though 1 
 go alone. Yet, I should not, Rose, if you would but reflect. 
 There are no noises now, there are no alarms ; the troops have 
 gone ; there is no sort of danger." 
 
 She looked appealingly to her companion while she spoke, 
 but her eye met no answering sympathies in that of Rose 
 Duncan. The terrors of the latter were unabated. There 
 was a vital difference of character between the two. The 
 elastic spirit of the more lively maiden was one merely of 
 the physical and external world. She was the summer-bird, 
 a thing of glitter and of sunshine. She could not live in 
 the stormy weather; she could not bide the turbulence of 
 strife. It was at such a time that the spirit of Janet Berkeley 
 came forth in strength, if not in buoyancc ; even ?cn { ue eagle, 
 who takes that season to soar forth from his mountain dwelling, 
 when the black masses of the tempest growl and gather most 
 gloomily around it. 
 
 " You will not, Rose ?" 
 
 No, do not ask me, Janet." 
 
 The firm and determined maiden, without another word, 
 simply raised her finger, and pointed to the adjoining apart 
 ment, where her father was. The uplifted finger then pressed 
 her lips for a moment, and in the next she was gone from sight. 
 Rose did not believe that she would go forth after her refusal 
 to accompany her, and she now earnestly called her back. 
 But she was already out of hearing: she had gone forth to 
 the field of blood and battle : and, strong in love, and fearless 
 in absorbing and concentrative affections, sh 3 had gone alonu 
 
230 UKT.UCIIAMPK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE WOUNDED LOVER 
 
 LOVE is the vital principle of religion - it is religion. It 
 is the devotion that fears not death which is rot won hy lify 
 which can not be seduced from duty which is patient an I 
 uncomplaining amid privation. Its existence becomes merged 
 in that of the object which it worships, and its first gift is the 
 sacrifice of self. There is no love if the heart will not i nnk 3 
 this sacrifice, and the heart never truly loves until this sacrifice 
 be made. Self is that life which we surrender when we gain 
 the happiness of the blessed. Seldom made in this life, it is 
 yet the only condition upon which we are secure of the future. 
 Ah ! happy the spirit which is soonest ready for the sacrifice. 
 To such a spirit, Heaven and Immortality arc one ! 
 
 The destiny of such a creature as Janet Berkeley might 
 even nowm>3 written. She is secure. There can be no change 
 in such a character. Time, and fortune, sickness, the defer. t 
 of hope, and the consciousness of approaching death, could 
 -never alter one lofty mood, one self-devoting impulse of her 
 soul. Surely, though she seeks the field of terror unaccom 
 panied by human form, she will not necessarily be alone. The 
 God whose worship calls only for love, will not be heedless of 
 the safety of her who toils for the beloved one. He is with 
 her. 
 
 Resolute as she was to seek the field of strife, and feailess 
 as her conduct approved her spirit, she was yet sufficiently 
 maiden in her reserve, to desire as much as possible, to conceal 
 from stranger eyes the object of her adventure. With a cau 
 tious footstep, therefore, she stole from cover to cover, until she 
 reached the artificial bank, clustering and crowded with shrubs 
 
THE WOUJNDKD LOVER. 1 
 
 and vines, which supported the trees on one side of the spa 
 cious avenue. With a trembling hand she parted the shrub 
 bery before her, and her eyes took in for an instant the field 
 of battle, and then, immediately after, shutting out its objects, 
 closed, as if with a moral comprehension of their own. She 
 could not be mistaken in the dreadful objects in her sight. 
 The awful testimonies of the desperate fight were strewed 
 around her. Her uplifted foot, in the very first step which she 
 had been about to take from the bank, hung suspended over 
 the lifeless body of one of its victims. She turned suddenly 
 and sickeningly away. She strove, but she could not pass into 
 the avenue at that point, and she receded through the thicket, 
 and made her way round to another quarter, in which she hoped 
 to find an unobstructed passage. There was but little time for 
 delay, and with this thought a new resolution brought strength 
 to her frame. Again her hand parted the copse, making a pas 
 sage for her person. Tin s time she dared not look. She did 
 not again permit herself either to think or to look, but re 
 solutely leaping across the ditch, she stood for a moment, 
 awed and trembling, but still firm, in the presence of the dead. 
 She was motionless for several seconds; but her mind neu 
 tralized, in its noble strength of purpose, the otherwise truly 
 feminine feebleness of her person. She was about to move 
 forward in her determined task; but when she strove to lift 
 her foot, it seemed half-fastened to the ground. She looked 
 down, and her shoe was covered with clotted blood. She 
 stood in a fast-freezing puddle of what, but an hour before, 
 had been warm life and feeling. But she did not now give 
 heed to the obstruction ; she was unconscious of this thought, 
 Her mind was elsewhere, and her eyes sought ( for another 
 object. The anxiety of her heart was too intense to make her 
 heedful of those minor influences, which at another time would 
 have shocked the sensibilities and overthrown all the strength 
 of her sex. She hurried forward, and her eyes were busy all 
 around her. The whole length of the avenue seemed marked 
 by the suffering victims, or those who had ceased to suffer. 
 Death had been busy in this quarter, and tory and rebel had 
 equally paid tribute to the destroyer. A deep moaning, feebly 
 
282 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 uttered but full of pain, came to her ears. It guided her steps. 
 She followed the one sound only. A wounded man lay half 
 in the ditch, to which he had crawled as if to be out of the 
 way of the horses. His head and shoulders were on the 
 bank, the rest of his body was concealed. A frightful gash 
 disfigured his face, and the blood-smeared features were yet 
 pale with the sickness of death. lie stretched out a feeble 
 arm as she approached. He muttered a single word 
 
 " Water." 
 
 At another time, she would have rim with the speed of 
 charity to bring him the blessed draught for which lie prayed; 
 but now she gave him no heed. There was nothing in his 
 face which spoke to her heart; and that moaning sound yet 
 reached her ears at intervals. She hurried onward, and the 
 pleading wretch sank back and perished, even as he prayed. 
 She heard his last gasping groan, but it had no effect upon her 
 feeling. Her mind was sensible only of the one sound which 
 had so far guided her footsteps. It seemed, through the me 
 dium of some strange instinct, at once to convey itself to her 
 soul. She reached the bend in the avenue whence it came. 
 On the edge of the ditch, half-buried in the water and the 
 long grass, lay the wounded man. A single glance informed 
 her. She could not mistake the uniform. 
 
 " Mellichampe !" she cried, in a thrilling voice of terror, as 
 with one desperate bound she rushed forward to the spot, and, 
 heedless of the thick blood which had dyed the grass all 
 around where he lay, sank on her knees beside him, while her 
 enfolding arms were wrapped about his bosom. 
 
 " Ernest dear Ernest ! speak to me ; tell me that you live ; 
 say that yoy are mine still that I do not lose you. Look at 
 me, Ernest speak to me speak to me only once." 
 
 He was in her arms he breathed he felt; but he spoke 
 not, and did not seem conscious. Her heart was strong, though 
 suffering; and her feeble strength of person, under its prompt 
 ings, was employed with an energy of which she had never 
 before conjectured one half the possession, to dr.-ig him forth 
 from the vines and brambles which lay thick around IMK 
 face the concealing cover in which he had been studiously 
 
THE WOUKDKD LOVKK. 233 
 
 placed by the trusty Witherapooa the moment before liis own 
 flight. From this cover she now strove to lift tlie form of her 
 lover; iiul, tliougli womiding her delicate fingers at every 
 effort with the thorns, the devoted Janet felt nothing of their 
 injuries as she -labored with this object. With great effort sho 
 succeeded in drawing him upon the bank, and his head now 
 rested upon her arms. A writhing of his person, a choking 
 half-suppressed groan, attested the returning consciousness, 
 with the increased pain following this movement, and mixed 
 moans and menaces fell incoherently from his lips. KVIMI 
 these signs, though signs of. pain to him, and holding forth no 
 encouragement of liopc to her, were yet more graceful than the 
 unconsciousness in which he lay before. She spoke to him 
 the words bursting forth in an intensity of natural eloquence 
 from her tongue, which could scarce have failed to arouse him, 
 even from the stupor of overcoming death itself. 
 
 " Speak to me, Mellichampe : dear Ernest, speak to me. 
 tell me that you live that you are not hurt to death. It in 
 Janet, your own Janet, that calls upon you. Look up and 
 sec ; look up and hear me. It is rny arms, dear Ernest, that 
 hold you now ; the bloody men are all gone." 
 
 And his dim eyes did unclose, and they did look up with 
 a sweet mournful ness of expression, vacant and wild, that 
 grew into a smile, almost of pleasure, when they met the 
 earnest, commiserating glance of hers. They closed again 
 almost instantly, however; but he murmured her name at the 
 moment. 
 
 " Janet you ?" 
 
 "Your own, in life and death, Ernest ever your own," 
 
 A, id she clung to him with a tenacious hold, at that instant, 
 as if determined that death should take no separate victim 
 He was again conscious, and spoke, though feebly : 
 
 "I fear me it is death, Janet. I feel it; this pain can noi 
 long be endured, and my limbs are useless." 
 
 "Speak not thus, Ernest; I know it is not so. Stay 
 move not. I will lift you to the house I will " 
 
 " You !" and he smiled feebly and fondly, is ho arrested 
 the idle speech. 
 
234 a.KI.l.lCliAMl h. 
 
 " God jf heaven ! have mercy! \vliat shall I do? I may 
 not lielp him :" and the exclamation burst spontaneously 
 from her lips, as she found, after repeated efforts, that her fee 
 ble arms were inadequate to the task even of lifting him from 
 his present painful position to a drier spot upon the bank. 
 In her Bewilderment and anguish, she could only call his 
 name in a bitter fondness. He heard her complaints, and 
 Rcemed to comprehend their occasion. His lips parted, and, 
 though with pain and a sensible effort, he strove to speak to 
 her. The words were faint and inaudible. She bent down 
 her ears, and at length distinguished what he said. lie but 
 named to her the faithful negro who had once before stood so 
 opportunely between him and his enemy, and had nearly suf 
 fered a dreadful and ignominious death in consequence of his 
 fidelity. 
 
 " Scip Scipio he will come Scip." 
 
 His eyes closed with the effort, but her face brightened as 
 she listened to the words, She immediately laid his head 
 tenderly upon the bank, pressed the pale, unconscious forehead 
 with her lips, and, bounding away through the thicket, hurried 
 with all the fleetness of a irealous and devoted spirit to the 
 tompletion of her task 
 
LOVE 8 BAKRIEIt. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 LOVE S HA UK I Kit. 
 
 SHE was not long in finding the faithful Scipio. lie sprang 
 with all the alacrity of a genuine zeal in obedience to her 
 commands. When he heard from her faltering lips the melan 
 choly occasion which called for his attendance, his own emo 
 tion was unrestrainahle, though he affected to d<mht the cer 
 tainty of her information. 
 
 " Who who da hurt, Missis ] You no say da Mass Arnest I 
 I no blieb it. Mass Arnest, he too strong, and he too quick 
 for let dern dam tory hurt a bone in he body. He somebody 
 else, missis. Yon no casion for scare; he somebody else hab 
 knock on he head : no Mass Arnest, I berry sartin. I3ut 1 go 
 long wid you all de same, dough I no guine link da Mass 
 Arnest git hurt. lie hab much hurt, I turn soger mysef. I 
 run way from ole maussa, and take de bush after dem tory. 1 
 sway to God nothing guine top me I once in de woods. I m ,, 
 come, young missis, show me de place whay de person hurt, 
 dough I know berry well taint Mass Arnest." 
 
 Denying her assertion, yet fearing at every step that he 
 took and, indeed, only denying that he might the mort, 
 readily impose upon himself with the unbelief which he ex 
 pressed, but with which he was yet not satisfied the sturdy 
 Scipio followed his young mistress toward the avenue. They 
 had not reached the little copse, however, by which it waw 
 girdled, before they heard the rush of horses, and the shrill 
 blast of the bugle. 
 
 "Top in dis bush, young missis; .squat down hern uiidei 
 dis persimmon, whay d;iy can t see you." 
 
2oG MKI.LICILVMI K. 
 
 "No, Scipio, let us go forward. 1 think we can get to the 
 avenue before they come up, and I would have you lift liim 
 into the bushes out of the way of the horsemen, before they 
 have passed by. Do not fear, Scipio; we shall have time, 
 but you must go forward quickly." 
 
 The black looked into her face with astonishment, as well 
 he might. Her words were unbroken, and her tones quick 
 and unaffected, equable, even musical ; while his own, accus 
 tomed as he had been all his life to utter and complete subor 
 dination, were tremulous with timidity and fear. 
 
 " Gor a-mity, Miss Janet, you no scare? You no frighten, 
 and you only young gal ? Scip member when you been only 
 so high, arid here you tall you tan up traight you look 
 all round you no trouble, dough you hear de horn blow ami 
 de sogers coming. Wlia* for you no scare like Scipio ?" 
 
 . She could not smile at that moment, as at another she could 
 ncarcely have refrained from doing; buther eye was turned 
 upon the half-unnerved negro, and her taper finger rested on 
 his sable wrist, as she said in tones which strengthened him, 
 as he felt they came from one who was herself snpernaturally 
 strengthened 
 
 "Fear nothing, but come on quickly. I need all your 
 strength, Scipio ; and, if you will mind what I say to you, 
 there will be no danger. Come on." 
 
 He opposed nothing farther to her progress, but followed in 
 silence. They had reached an outer fence, the rails of which 
 had been let down in order to the free passage of the cavalry 
 before, when the increasing clamor of the approaching detach 
 ment under Barsfield again impelled Scipio to other sugges 
 tions of caution to his youthful mistress. But she heeded him 
 not, and continued her progress. Nor did he shrink. Ho 
 could pe.rish for her as readily as for Mellichampe ; and, to do 
 the faithful slave all justice, his exhortations were prompted 
 not so much by his own danger or hers, as by a natural sense 
 of the delicacy of that position in which she might involve 
 herself, under that strong and passionate fervor of devoted 
 L ve which blinded her to all feeling of danger, and placed 
 her infintely beyond the fear of death. Other fears she had 
 
LOVE S BARRIER. "Mi 
 
 not. Her maiden innocence had nc^er yet dreamed of a 
 wrong to that purity of soul and person, of which her whole life 
 might well have been considered the embodied representative. 
 
 But the forbearance of the negro, and his ready compliance 
 hitherto, all disappeared when, on reaching the copse, he be- 
 held the bright sabres flashing in his eyes immediately in the 
 courtyard, as, rounding the yet blazing fabric, the troopers of 
 Barsfield were even then making with all speed toward the 
 avenue. He caught the wrist of his mistress, and pointed out 
 the advancing enemy. She saw at a glance that, in another 
 moment, they would make their appearance in the avenue 
 quite as soon as herself. But a few paces divided her from 
 Mellichampo; and, as she hesitated whether to pause or pro 
 ceed, she trembled now, for the first time in her movement. 
 In that moment of doubt, the more ready physical energy of 
 the negro obtained the ascendency. With something like fear 
 lie drew her to a part of the copse which was thicker than the 
 rest, and here she partially crouched from sight, he taking a 
 place humbly enough immediately behind her. What were 
 her feelings then, in that position what her fears ! She bore 
 them not long. The anxiety and the suspense were infinitely 
 beyond all estimation of the danger in her mind ; and, with 
 fearless hands, after a few moments of dreadful pause and 
 apprehension, she divided the crowding bushes from before 
 her, a.nd looked down into the ditch which separated her from 
 the avenue. 
 
 At that moment, leading his squad and moving rapidly at 
 their head, Barsfield rode into the enclosure. Instinctively, as 
 she beheld his huge form and fiercely-excited, harsh features, 
 her hands sunk down at her side, and the slender branches 
 which she had opened in the copse before her, with their 
 crowding foliage, resumed in part their old position, and would 
 most completely have concealed her; but when, in the next 
 instant, she beheld the fierce tory ride^directly to the spot 
 where Mellichampe lay, when she saw him rein up his steed 
 and leap with onward haste to the ground, when her eye 
 : canned the intense malignity and mingled exultation and 
 
 atred of his glance, and she saw that his bloody sabre waa 
 
238 
 
 MEL LICIT A MTK. 
 
 even then uplifted she had no further fears she had no 
 further thoughts of herself. She tore the brandies away from 
 before her, and, in defiance of all the efforts of the faithful 
 Scipio to restrain- her, she leaped forward directly into the 
 path of the tory, and in the face of his uplifted weapon. 
 
 Her appearance was in the last degree opportune. Another 
 moment might have ended all her cares for her lover. Bars 
 field was standing above him,, and Mellichampe had exhibited 
 just life enough to give the tory an excuse sufficient to drive 
 the sword which he held into the bosom of that enemy whom, 
 of all the world, he was most desirous to destroy. The medi 
 tated blow was almost descending, and the feeble youth stim 
 ulated by the presence of his foe, was vainly struggling to rise 
 from the earth, which was all discolored with his blood. His 
 dim eyes were opening in momentary flashes, while his sinew 
 less arm was feebly striving to lift the sabre, which he had 
 still retained tenaciously in his grasp, in opposition to that of 
 Barsfield. The instinct rather than the reason of love pre 
 vailed. Indeed, the instinct of love is woman s be&t reason. 
 With a shriek that rose more shrilly upon the air than the 
 bugle of the enemy, she threw herself under the weapon she 
 lay prostrate upon the extended and fainting form of her lover 
 she clasped his head with her arms, and her bosom formed 
 the sweet and all-powerful barrier which, in that perilous 
 moment, protected his. The weapon of the tory was arrested. 
 He had heard her cry he had seen the movement and h<> 
 did not, he could not then, strike. 
 
 "Save him, spare him, Barsfield ! he is dying you have 
 already slain him ! Strike no other blow ; have mercy, 1 prav 
 you- if not upon him, have mercy upon me. I have never 
 wronged you I will not let us go free. Why will you 
 hate us so why why ?" 
 
 "Fear not, Miss Berkeley you mistake my purpose: I 
 mean not to destroy^him. Leave him now let one of my 
 men attend you to the house; and Mr. Mellichampe shall te 
 taken care of." 
 
 "I will not leave him," she exclaimed ; "I dare not tr;.~v 
 you, Barsfield I can take care of him myself." 
 
LOVE S BARRIER. 239 
 
 The fierce brow of the tory blackened as this reproachful 
 speech met his ears. 
 
 " What ! not trust ine, Miss Berkeley ?" 
 
 " Why should I ? Did I not behold you, even now, about 
 to strike his unguarded bosom ?" 
 
 " He strove to fight he offered resistance," was the somo 
 what hasty reply of the tory. 
 
 "He strove to fight! he offered resistance! oh, shame. 
 Captain Barsfield shame to manhood that you should 
 speak such language! What resistance could he offer 1 how 
 could he fight, and the blood that could only have given him 
 strength for such a conflict soaking up the earth about him ? 
 If that blood were now in his heart, Mr. Barsfield, you would 
 not now speak thus, nor would I have occasion, sir, to plead 
 for his life at any hands, and, least of all, at yours." 
 
 She had raised herself from the body, over which she still 
 continued to bend, under the indignation of her spirit at the 
 unmanly speech of the tory. Her eyes flashed forth a fire as 
 she spoke, neath which his own grew humbled and ashamed. 
 His muscles quivered with rage and vexation, and his only 
 resort for relief was to that natural suggestion of the lowly 
 mind which seeks to conceal or fortify one base action by the 
 commission of another. 
 
 "Take her away, Beacham," he said to one of the troopers; 
 "carry her to the house tenderly, Beacham tenderly ; hurt 
 he not. Be careful, as you value my favor." 
 
 " Touch me not," she cried aloud, " touch me not : put no 
 hand upon me. This is my home, Captain Barsfield I arn 
 here of right, while you are but the guest of our hospitality 
 Do not suffer these men to lay hands upon me." 
 
 " But you are here in danger, Miss Berkeley." 
 
 "Only from you, sir only from you and yours. I am in 
 no danger, sir, from him none none. I will cling to him 
 for safety to the last, though he hear me not though he never 
 hear me again. He is mine, sir and I am his; but you knew 
 this before. He is mine you shall not tear me from my 
 husband" 
 
MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 Husband !" cried Barsfield, in unmitigated surprise and 
 unconcealed vexation. 
 
 " Ye-s, husband, before God, if not in the eye of man ! Liv 
 ing or dead, Ernest, I am still yours yours only. I swear it 
 by this unconscious form I swear it by all that is good and 
 holy all that can hallow an innocent love, and make sacred 
 and strong so solemn and so dear a pledge ! You can not now 
 separate us you dare not!" 
 
 "You know not, Miss Berkeley, how much I can dare in the 
 performance of my duty." 
 
 " This is no duty of yours I need none of your guardian 
 ship." 
 
 " Ay, Miss Berkeley, you do not, perhaps, but he cToes. He 
 is my prisoner, under charge of a heavy crime of treason to 
 his sovereign, and of being a spy upon my camp." 
 
 TVhat! he Mellichampe ! Oh, false, false foolish and 
 false !" was her almost fierce exclamation. 
 
 " True as gospel, Miss Berkeley, as I shall prove to his con 
 viction, if not yours. But this is trifling, surely. Beacham, 
 remove the lady ; treat her tenderly, but remove her from the 
 body of the prisoner: we must secure him at all hazards 
 living or dead." 
 
 The rugged soldier, in obedience to these commands, ap 
 proached the maiden, who now cli;ng more firmly than ever to 
 the half conscious form of her lovev. Her arms wers wound 
 about his neck, and, with convulsive shrieks at intervals, she 
 spoke alternately to Barsfield and her lover. In .the mean 
 time, beholding the approach of the soldier who had been 
 instructed to bear her away, the faithful Scipio, though entirely 
 unarmed, did not hesitate at once to leap forward to her assist 
 ance. He made his way between her and the soldier Beacham, 
 and, though Ills arms hung without movement at his side, there 
 was yet enough in his manner to show to the iory that he 
 meditated all the resistance of which, under the circumstances, 
 he could be considered capable. His teeth were set firmly; 
 his eyes sought those of the soldier, and were there fixed ; and 
 bis head rested upon one shoulder with an air of dogged deter- 
 
241 
 
 minatioii which, even hefore he spoke, conveyed all the elo 
 quence of his subsequent words. 
 
 " Say de wild, missis only say de wud, and I hammer dig 
 poor bnckrab till he hab noting leff but de white ob de eye. 
 He hab sword for stick, and Scip only hab he hand and teet j 
 but I no fraid ob um ; only you say de v/ud dat s all !" 
 
 But poor Scipio, as was natural enoagh at such a moment., 
 in the presence of his mistress, and his blood mounting irijjb 
 at seeing the condition of Ernest Mellichampe, had prievou?! r 
 miscalculated his own strength He had scarcely spoken 
 when a stroke from the back of a sabre across the head brought 
 him to the ground, like a stunned ox, and taught Janet hew 
 little commiseration she was to expect from the fierce man 
 who stood before her, wielding, at that instant, her entire des 
 tiny. The soldier advanced, though Avith some evident reluc 
 tance, and he laid his hand upon her. She started, on the 
 instant, and rose immediately to her feet. 
 
 "If you are resolved upon violence toward me, Captain 
 .Barsfield, I will spare myself, as much as possible, the pain 
 of suffering it. You have, sir, all the shame of having com 
 manded it. I know that you have the strength to tear me 
 away from him; you are wise, perhaps, as you seem only to 
 employ- it when the difference is so manifest. But I will imt 
 b separated from him, though you declare him your prisoner : 
 I will be a prisoner also ; I will cling to him wherever you 
 may decree that he shall be carried ; for know, sir, that I trust 
 you not. The man who will employ violence to a woman 
 v/ould murder his sleeping enemy !" 
 
 " Remove her to the house, Beacham," was all that the tory 
 said ; but his words were uttered with teeth closely clinched 
 together, and his whole frame seemed to quiver with indigna 
 tion. At that moment the sound of Tarleton s returning bugle 
 smote suddenly upon the ears of all ; and the quick sense <>( 
 Janet immediately saw, in the features of Barsfield, that tin- 
 intelligence was not pleasing to his mind. He hurried his 
 commands for the removal of Mellichampe s body, and was now 
 doubly anxious to convey her to the house. Without a deC- 
 
242 MKLLICHAMPK. 
 
 nite motive for refusing now to do that to which, but a moment 
 before, she had consented, she sprang again to the person oi 
 her lover, again threw her arms about him, and refused to bo 
 separated. While thus situated, the tones of another voice 
 were heard immediately behind the group. The deep, t:ul- 
 dued, but stern accents of Tarleton himself were not to be 
 mistaken ; and Barsfield started in obvious agitation, as he 
 heard the question which first announced to him the 
 of his superior. 
 
TAJtLKTON IN TIME. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 TARLETON IN TIME. 
 
 THE group, at that moment in the avenue, formed a striking 
 picture. The voice of Tarleton seemed to have the effect of 
 paralyzing and fixing to his place each of the parties. Janet, 
 on bended knee, with her person half stretched over the insen 
 sible body of her lover, her face turned and her hand uplifted 
 to the legionary col&nel, looked, at the same moment, relieved 
 and apprehensive. She felt that, the presence of Tarleton was 
 a restraint upon the vindictive personal hostility of Barsfield ; 
 but did she not also know that the name of the legionary was 
 synonymous in Carolina with everything that was bloody and 
 revengeful? She hoped and trembled, yet she was better 
 pleased that the destinies of her lover should rest with the 
 latter than the former. Tarleton could have no individual 
 hatred to Mellichampe ; she well conceived the viperous and 
 unforgiving hate which rankled against him in the bosom of 
 the tory. 
 
 The quiet inquiry, the even and subdued tones, of Tar 
 leton, had the effect of a like paralysis upon the limbs of 
 Barsfield. His mood was rebuked his violent proceedings 
 at once arrested, as he heard them ; yet they were words of 
 simple inquiry. 
 
 " What does all this mean, Captain Barsfield ? why is this 
 lady here ?" 
 
 The tory explained, or sought to explain, but he performed 
 the task imperfectly. 
 
 " A wounded enemy a prisoner, sir. I would have con 
 veyed him where he could procure tendence, but Miss Berkeley 
 resisted. 
 
244 MKLMc 
 
 The maiden rose. Slie approached Tarleton, and said tc 
 him, in low, but still audible tones, 
 
 "Because I would not trust him. lie would have killed 
 ];im he would have murdered him with his bloody sword, if 
 I had not come between." 
 
 " Bt.t who is he, ynng lady, what is the youth in whom 
 you take such interest ?" 
 
 Her lips quivered, and a faint flush spread itself over her 
 checks, but she did not reply. 
 
 " Who is the prisoner, Captain BaiT.field ?" 
 
 " A rebel, sir one Mellichampe." 
 
 "Son of Max Mellichampe ?" demanded Tarleton, inter 
 rupting him. 
 
 " The same, sir ; as malignant a rebel as his father; and 
 one not only liable to be dealt with as such, but one whom I 
 would secure for trial as a spy." 
 
 At these words she spoke. The accusation against her lover 
 aroused her. Her eye flashed indignant fires upon the tory 
 as she spoke fearlessly in reply. 
 
 "It is false, sir a wilful falsehood, believe me. Ernest 
 Mellichampe was no spy ; he could not be. This man con 
 ceives his enemy s character from his own. Mellicham]>> is 
 incapable, sir, of so base an employment ; and Captain Bars- 
 field knows him sufficiently well to know it. Ernest did hut 
 come to the house to see us, as he was accustomed to ^omo 
 and it so happened that Captain BarsfTold, with his troop, 
 came that very day also. My father always extended to Er 
 nest Mellichampe the same hospitality which he extended to 
 Captain Barsfield ; and so, sir, you see that Ernest was our 
 visitor, our guest, like Captain Barsfield, and one of them 
 could no more be a spy than the other. Captain Barsfield 
 knows all this; and, if he did not hate Ernest, I should not 
 have to tell it you. But I tell you the truth, sir, as I am a 
 woman: Ernest was no spy, and the charge against him is 
 false and sinful." 
 
 She paused, breathless and agitated. Tarleton smiled 
 faintly as he heard her through, and his eyes rested with 
 a gentle and mos f unwonted expression upon the glowing 
 
TAKLKTON IN TIME. 245 
 
 face of the fair pleader. Her eye shrunk from, while lisr 
 whole frame trembled beneath, his gaze. 
 
 " But why is he here, my good young lady ? why, if he 19 
 our friend, why is he here?" inquired Tarleton, in the gentlest 
 language. 
 
 " I said not that, sir; I said not that he was a loyalist ; 
 liiniest Mellichampe, sir, is one of Marion s men." 
 
 " Ha !" was the quick exclamation of Tarleton, and his brow 
 was furrowed with a heavy frown as he uttered it. 
 
 " But not a spy oh no, sir, not a spy ! an open, avowed, 
 honorable enemy, but no spy. He fought against this man, sir 
 this man Barsfisltl who hates him, sir, and came here 
 mly just now, sir I saw it myself and would have killed 
 Ernest Avith his sword, sir, and he senseless, if I had not come 
 between him and the weapon." 
 
 " Is this so, Captain Barsfield ?" inquired Tarleton, gravely 
 
 " The rebel s weapon was uplifted, Colonel Tarleton, and he 
 opposed me Avhen I sought to make him my prisoner." 
 
 "Oh! false false, sir and foolish as it is false! was 
 her reply; " for how could he fight, sir, when he Avas so hurt, 
 and lying almost senseless on the grass?" 
 
 " He could offer but little resistance, indeed, Captain Bars- 
 iudd !" remarked Tarleton, sternly and coolly; "and this 
 reminds me that he will the more speedily need the assist 
 ance -of our surgeon. Here, Decker Wilson Broome 
 go one of you and request Mr. Haddows to prepare himself 
 for a wounded man sabre-cut, head and shoulder away ! 
 k and you a score of you, lift the body and bear it to the 
 house. Tenderly, men -tenderly : if you move so roughly 
 again, Corporal Wilson, I ll cleave you to the chine Avith my 
 sabre. Ha ! he shows his teeth again ! a fierce rebel, doubt 
 less, young lady, and a troublesome one, too, though you speak 
 so earnestly in his behalf." 
 
 The latter remark of Tarleton was elicited by the feverish 
 resistance which the partly-aroused Mellichampe now offered 
 to his own removal. The soldiers had sought to wrest 1 is 
 sabre fi^n-ms grasp, and this again, with the pain of the 
 movement, had provoked his consciousness. He struggled 
 
21.6 
 
 desperately for an instant, gnashed his teeth, threw his eyes 
 upon the group with an air of defiance even in their vacancy, 
 then closed them again, as he fainted away in a deathlike 
 sickness in the arms which now uplifted him. 
 
 Janet would have clung still to her lover as they bore him 
 toward the dwelling, hut Tarleton interposed. He approached 
 her with a smile of gentleness, which was always beautiful 
 and imposing when it made its appearance upon his habitually 
 sombre features. 
 
 "Come, Miss Berkeley, Jet us go forward together. You 
 will not fear to take the arm of one whom y ;m doubtless consid 
 er in the character of an enemy one, probably, of the very 
 worst sort. Your rebel there, in whom you have taken such 
 a sweet interest, has no doubt taught you to believe me so : 
 and you have readily believed all that he has taught you. I 
 see how matters stand between yon, nay, blush not, you have 
 nothing to blush for. You have only done your duty the 
 duty of a woman, always a more delicate, often a more holy, 
 and sometimes a far more arduous duty than any of those which 
 are particularly the performance of man. I admire you f >r 
 what you have done, and yoil will regard me as a friend here 
 after, though I am at war now with some of those whom you 
 love most dearly. This matters nothing with me : nor am I 
 always the stern monster which I appear to so many. I am, 
 they say, fond of blood-spilling, and I fear me that much of 
 what they say is true ; But Bannister Tarleton was not always 
 what he now appears. Some of his boy feelings have worked 
 in your favor; and, so long as they last and Heaven grant 
 that they may last for ever I will admire your virtues, and 
 freely die to preserve and promote them. Go now and attend 
 upon this youth : and, hear me, young lady, persuade him hack 
 to his true allegiance. You will do him as good a service by 
 doing that, as you have done him now. He will be well at- 
 tsrded by my own surgeon, and shall want for nothing; but 
 hs must remain a prisoner. The charges of Captain Barsiield 
 .avust be examined into, but he shall have justice." 
 
 " r ih, sir, do not believe those charges do not believe 
 c.au. lie i a bad man, who personally hates Ernest, 
 
TARLETON IN TIME. 247 
 
 and will do all he can to destroy him, as he destroyed his 
 father." 
 
 "His father! Yes, yes, I remember. Max Mellichampe. His 
 plantation was called " 
 
 " Kaddipah." 
 
 " I see I see," responded Tarleton, musingly, and his eyes were 
 on the ground ; while the sabre which he had carried in his hand, 
 still in its sheath, came heavily to the earth Avith a clatter that made 
 the maiden start. -A few moments pause ensued, w r hen Tarleton 
 proceeded : 
 
 " Fear nothing for the safety of the youth. He shall be tried 
 impartially and treated honorably, though we must now keep him a 
 prisoner, and Barsfield must have his keeping." 
 
 " Oh, sir, not Barsfield anybody else." 
 
 "It cannot be/ was the response; "but there is no danger. I 
 shall say but a few words to Barsfield, and Mr. Mellichampe will be 
 much safer in his custody than in that of any other. Take my word 
 that it will be so. You have some prejudices, I perceive, against 
 Barsfield, which do him injustice. You will discover, in the end, 
 that you have wronged him." 
 
 "Never, sir, never. You know him not, Colonel Tarleton, you 
 know him not." 
 
 " Perhaps not, my dear young lady ; but I know that Mr. Melli 
 champe will be safer after I have given my orders. All I request of 
 3 ou is to be patient. Encourage the prisoner; tell him to fear noth 
 ing;. and fear nothing yourself." 
 
 She hesitated; she would have urged something further in object 
 ing to Barsfield as the keeper of her lover; but a sudden change came 
 over the countenance of the legionary, even as an unlooked-for cloud 
 enlarges from a scarce perceptible speck, and obscures the hitherto 
 untroubled heavens. His figure suddenly grew erect, and his air 
 was coldly polite, as he checked her in the half -uttered sug 
 gestion. 
 
 "No more, Miss Berkeley, I have determined. The arrange 
 ments now proper for all parties shall be made, and all justice 
 shall be done the prisoner. Have no doubts; rely on me, I 
 pray you, and be calm; be confident in the assurances I give 
 you. I for once believe that Barsfield Tarleton can be hu- 
 
248 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 mane; that tenderness and justice may both be found at his 
 hands. Go now to your dwelling. You have duties there; 
 and oblige me, if you please, by saying to your father that, if 
 agreeable to him, I will take dinner with him to-day." 
 
 He kissed her hand as he was about to leave her, with a 
 grave, manly gallantry, that seemed to take the privilege a;; <>. 
 matter of course ; and she did not resist him. Murmuring h- .-,. 
 acknowledgments, she hurried away to the dwelling, and WA:- 
 soon out of sight. Tarleton stood for a few moments watching 
 her progress, with a painful sort of pleasure evident upon Ins 
 pale countenance, as if some old arid sacred memories, sud 
 denly aroused from a long slumber, were busy stirring at his 
 heart. 
 
THE IIALF-JJKEIO) AND 111K TORY 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE I1ALF-BKEED AND THE TORY. 
 
 TAKLRTON, however, whatever may have been his feelings 01 
 his thoughts, gave but little time to their present indulgence. 
 As soon as Janet Berkeley was out of sight, he again sought 
 out Barsfield, whom he found in no very excellent humor. 
 The tory was mortified on many accounts. He was irritated 
 at the escape of Mellichampe, a second time, from the fate 
 which he had prepared for him, and which at one moment, he 
 had considered certain. He was annoyed at the sudden ap 
 pearance of his superior, and that superior Tarleton, just when 
 his controversies Avith a woman placed him in an attitude so 
 humiliating to a man and a soldier. His brow was clouded, 
 therefore, as these thoughts filled his mind, and the scowl had 
 not left his features when Tarleton again made his appearance. 
 The fierce legionary was a man of promptitude, quick decision, 
 and few- words : 
 
 " So, Captain Barsfield, this prisoner of yours is the son of 
 Max Mellichampe !" 
 
 " The same, sir ; a malignant I had thought quite too noto 
 rious to have escaped your recollection." 
 
 " It had not ; though, at the moment when I first heard it, I 
 was confounding one name with another in my memory." 
 
 " I thought it strange, sir." 
 
 "You must have done so," was the cool reply of Tarleton ; 
 "for the fine estate and former possessions of Mellichampe, 
 now yours through our sovereign s favor, are too closely at hand 
 not to have kept the old proprietor in recollection. But out 
 speech is now of the son : what of him, Captain Barsfield ?" 
 
 There was a good deal in this speech to annoy the tory j 
 
but lie strove successfully to preserve his composure as he 
 replied to the latter part of it. 
 
 " He, sir, is not less malignant, not less hostile to our causu 
 and sovereign, than his father. He is an exceedingly active 
 officer among the men of Marion ; and, like his father, en 
 dowed with many of the qualities which would make him 
 troublesome as an enemy. He is brave, and possessed of con 
 siderable skill ; quite too much not to render it highly advan 
 tageous to ns to have him a prisoner, and liable to certain 
 penalties as a criminal. It was my surprise, Colonel Tarle- 
 ton " and a little hesitation here, in the words and manner 
 of the tory, seemed to denote his own apprehensions of en 
 croaching upon delicate, ground quite too far "it was my 
 .surprise, sir, that, knowing his name and character, yon should 
 have proceeded toward him with so much tenderness." 
 
 The legionary did not seem to feel the force of the rebuke 
 which this language conveyed. His thoughts were elsewhere, 
 evidently, as he replied, with an inquiring exclamation: 
 "Eli?" 
 
 "You knew him, sir a rebel a spy ; for such T asserted 
 and can prove him to be; yet you spared him." 
 
 "I did," said Tarleton ; "you wonder that I did so. Does 
 your surprise come from the belief that I did him or myself 
 injustice ? To what do you ascribe my forbearance ? or would 
 you rather have had me truss him up to a tree, because he 
 merited such a doom, or sabre him upon the ground, in order 
 to preserve my consistency?" 
 
 The tory looked astounded, as well lie might. There was 
 a strange tone of irony in the language of Tarleton, and the 
 words themselves had a signification quite foreign to the 
 wonted habit of the latter. He knew not how to construe the 
 object or the precise nature of the question. The whole tem 
 per of the fierce legionary seemed to have undergo a change, 
 and was now a mystery to Barsfield, as it had been a wonder 
 to the men around them. There was a sarcastic smile on the 
 lips of the speaker, accompanying his words, which warned the 
 tory to be heedful of the sort of reply to which he should give 
 utterance, He paused, herefore, for a few moments, in ordej 
 
THE llALF-liKi.K 
 
 so to digest his answer as to guard it from every objectionable 
 expression; yet be spoke with sufficient promptitude to avoid 
 the appearance of premeditating what be said. 
 
 " Surely, Colonel Tarleton, the rebel who resists should die 
 in bis resistance " 
 
 But when wounded. Barsfield wben wounded and at 
 vour feet" was the abrupt interruption of Tarleton, who cer 
 tainly did not diminish tbe surprise of Bars fie Id while thus ma 
 king a suggestion of mercy to the conqueror. The tory could 
 not forbear a sarcasm : with a smile, therefore, be proceeded : 
 
 " And yet, Colonel Tarleton, it has seldom been tbe case 
 that you have left to his majesty s enemies, even when you 
 have overthrown them, a second opportunity of lifting arms 
 against him." 
 
 The, bitter smile passed from the lips of the legionary, and 
 his eye rested sternly upon the face of the tory. The sarcasm 
 was evidently fell, and, for a few moments, there was in Tarle 
 ton s bosom something of that fierce fire which at one period 
 would have replied to the sharp word with the sharper sword, 
 and to the idle sneer with a busy weapon. But the sternness 
 of his brow, a moment after, became subdued to mere serious 
 ness, as he replied : 
 
 " It is true, Captain Barsfield, my sabre has perhaps been 
 sufficiently unsparing. I have been a man of blood ; and 
 heretofore, I have thought, with sufficient propriety. I have 
 deemed it my duty to leave my king as few enemies as possi 
 ble, and I have not often paused to consider of the mode by 
 which to get rid of them ; but " 
 
 He did not conclude the sentence. His face was turned 
 away from the listener. Thought seemed to gather, like a 
 cloud, upon his mind ; and a gloomy and dark hue obscured 
 his otherwise pale features. The tory regarded him with 
 increased surprise as he again addressed him ; he could no 
 longer conceal his astonishment at the change in the mood 
 and habits of the speaker. 
 
 " May I ask," he continued, " what has wrought the altera 
 tion which I can not but see now in your deportment, Colonel 
 V 
 
252 
 
 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 " Is it not enough, was the quick response ei the Jegionary 
 " that Oornwallis has grown merciful of late?" 
 
 "It has heen of late that he has become so," said Barsfield 
 with a smile; " only since the battle of Gum Swamp, may we 
 reckon?" 
 
 " He, at least, requires that I shall be so," said Tarleton, 
 calmly, " though the indulgence of a different temper he still 
 appears to keep in reserve for himself. He would monopolize 
 the pleasure of the punishment, and perhaps the odium of it 
 also. That, at least, I do not envy him." 
 
 "And in that respect your own mood seems to have under 
 gone a change which could not have been produced by any 
 command of his ?" 
 
 Barsfield was venturing upon dangerous ground in this 
 remark; but he presumed thus freely as he listened to the 
 tacit censure which Tarleton had expressed in reference to the 
 conduct of his superior. 
 
 " It has, Captain Barsfield, and the proof of it is to be found 
 in the proceedings of this day. Under your representations I 
 should at another time, with the full sanction of Oornwallis. 
 have strung up this rebel Mellicharnpo to the nearest, tree, 
 though but a few moments of life were left him by the doubt 
 ful mercies of your sabre or mine. I have not done so; and 
 my own mood is accountable for the change, rather than the 
 orders of my superior. The truth is, I am sick of blood after 
 the strife is over; and I relieve myself of the duties of the 
 executioner by the alteration of iny feelings in this respect. 
 Mellichampe will perhaps complain of iny mercy. He must 
 remain your prisoner, to be carefully kept by you, for trial in 
 Charleston, as soon as his wounds will permit of his removal 
 to the city. An execution is wanted there, for example, in 
 that unruly city; and thi youth, coming of good family, a:ul 
 an active insurgent, is well chosen as the proper victim. I m>> 
 instructed to secure another for this purpose, and my pur.si it 
 now is partly for this object. Two such subjects as Walton 
 and Mellichampe carted to an ignominious death through (lie 
 streets of Charleston, will have the proper effect upon these 
 insolent citizens, who growl where they dare not bite, amJ 
 
THE HALiMlltitlKL) AND THE ToUY. ^->" 
 
 sneer at the authority which yet tramples them into the dust. 
 You must keep this youth safely for this purpose, Captain 
 Barsfield; I shall look to you that he escape not, and thai 
 every attendance and all care he given him, so that lie maj 
 as soon as possible prepare? for his formal trial, and, as I think 
 lor his final execution. My own surgeon shall remain with 
 him, the better to facilitate these ends, which, as you value 
 you! 1 ov/n loyalty, you will do your utmost to promote/ 
 
 "Am I to remain here, then, Colonel Tarleton ? Shall I 
 not proceed to Sinkier s Meadow, agreeably to ihe original 
 plan, and afterward establish myself in post at Kaddipah ?" 
 
 "No! you must establish yourself here. The position is 
 safer and better suited to our purposes than Kaddipah. Sin- 
 round yourself with stockades, and summon the surrounding 
 inhabitants. The probability is, that you are too late for (be 
 gnthering at Sinkler s Meadow. I fear me that Marion is 
 there, now. You should have crossed the river yesterday ; the 
 delay is perhaps as fatal in its consequences as it was unad 
 vised and injudicious. But it is too late now to think upon. 
 To-morrow I will move to Sinkler s Meadow, if I do not first 
 find Marion in the Swamp." 
 
 The conference was interrupted at this moment by tli* ip- 
 proach of Blonay. His features suddenly caught the eye ot 
 the legionary, who called him forward. The half-breed with 
 his ancient habit, stood leaning against a neighboring tree, 
 seeming not to observe anything, yet observing all th ngs ; 
 and, with a skill which might not readily be augured fro>n his: 
 dull, inexpressive eye and visage, searching closely int^ the 
 bosoms of those whom he surveyed, through the median of 
 those occasional expressions of countenance, which usually run 
 along with feeling and indicate its presence. 
 
 " Ah ! you are the scout," said Tarleton. " Come forward 
 I would speak with you." 
 
 The half-breed stood before him. 
 
 " And you promise that you can guide me directly to tL:. 
 camp of the rebel Marion 1 ?" 
 
 " Yes, colonel, I can." 
 
 "You have seen it yourself?" 
 
" I have, colonel." 
 
 " Unseen by any of the rebel force]" 
 
 " Yes, colonel." 
 
 " (Jan you guide us there, too, undiscovered ?" 
 
 "Adrat it yes if the scouts a n t out. When 1 went t.h* 
 scouts were all in, since there was no alarm, and Marion was 
 guine M] on an expedition." 
 
 "What expedition V 
 
 "Well, i" don t know, colonel somewhere to the north, I 
 reckon down about Waccamaw." 
 
 "And suppose his scouts are out now will they see us 
 can we not na .e o ir way undiscovered ?" 
 
 "Taint so easy, colonel ; there s no better scouts in natur 
 than the, swamp fox keeps. They will dodge all day lunj* 
 in one thicket from the best ten men of the legion." 
 
 "Is there no way of misleading the scouts?" 
 
 "None, colonel, that 1 knows. If you could send out a 
 strong party .if the horse in a different direction, as if you was 
 trying to get round them, you might trick the old fox into 
 believing- it: but that s not so easy to do. He s mighty shy, 
 and a n t to be caught with chaff." 
 
 "Nor will I try any such experiment, llark ee, fellow; if 
 * find that you deceive me, I shall not stop a moment to give 
 your throat the surety of a strong cord. Your counsels to 
 break my force* to be cut up when apart, are those of one who 
 is drawing both right and left, and argues but little respect for 
 my common sense. But I will trust you so far as you promise. 
 You shall guide me to the hole of the fox, and I will do the 
 cst. Guide me faithfully, and stick close to your, promise, 
 and I will reward you; betray me, deceive me, or even look 
 doubtfully in our progress, and, so sure as 1 value the great 
 ivust in my hands, your doom is written. Away now, and be 
 ready with the dawn." 
 
 Tliu scout bowed and retired. The moment that his back- 
 had been turned upon the speaker, Tarleton motioned two sol 
 diers, who stood at a little distance, and who kept their ryes 
 aver watchfully upon Blonaj. They turned away at the sig 
 nal, and followed tlu srout at a respectful distance, bnl on* 8 
 
THE HALF-BRKKD AND THE TORT. 
 
 riot too great to render the escape of the suspected person at 
 all easy. Every precaution was taken to prevent the scov.J 
 from noticing this surveillance ; but the half-oblique eye which 
 he cast over his shoulder at intervals upon the two, must have 
 taught any one at all familiar with the character of the half- 
 breed, that he was not unconscious of the close attention thu: 
 bestowed upon him. lie walked away unconcernedly, how 
 ever, and it was not long before, upon the edge of the forer; 
 he had gained a favorite tree, against the sunny side of which 
 he leaned himself quietly, as if all the cares and even the con 
 sciousness of existence had long since departed from his mind. 
 It was in this spot, an hour after, that he was sought out by 
 Barsh eld. The tory captain had some cause of displeasure 
 with the scout, who had evaded his expressed wish to gain the 
 clew to the retreat of Marion. He had other causes of dis 
 pleasure, which the dialogue between them subsequently un 
 folded! 
 
 "Where did you meet with Colonel Tarleton to-day, Mr 
 Blonay 1 You had no knowledge, of his approach ?" 
 
 "None, cappin I heard his trumpet a little way off, when 
 I was making a roundabout for the swamp thicket, and ho 
 came upon me with a few dragoons afore I seed him." 
 
 " It is strange, Mr. Blonay, that a good scout, such as you 
 are, should be so easily found when not desiring it. Are you 
 sure that you tried to keep out of his way ?" 
 
 "No, cappin there was no reason for me to try, for I saw 
 first that they were friends and not rebels : and so I didn t 
 push to hide, as I might have done, easy enough." 
 
 "And by what means did Colonel Tarleton discover that 
 you could lead him to the. camp of Marion, unless you studi 
 ously furnished him with your intelligence?" 
 
 " I did tell him, cappin, when he axed me. He axed me if 
 I knowed, and I said I did, jist the same as I said to you ; and 
 he then axed me to show him, and I said I could." 
 
 " But why, when I asked you, did you deny your ability to 
 show me the way ? Was it because you looked for better p^iy 
 at the hands of Tarleton V 
 
 " No, cappin : but you didn t ax me to show you you only 
 
MKLI.ICHAMl K.. 
 
 -n< d mo to describe it, and that I couldn t do. I can go ovv;r 
 ili j ground, cappin, jist like a, dog; but I can t tell tlie name 
 f.f the tree that I goes by, or this bush, or that branch, and I 
 nn ij t any name for the thicket I creeps through. I knows 
 i!iem all when I sees them, and I can t miss them any more 
 Mian the good hound when he s once upon trail; but, if you 
 vns to hang me, I couldn t say it to you in talking, so that 
 j<m could find it out for yourself." 
 
 Blouay was right in a portion of his statement, but his cor 
 rectness was only partial. lie could not, indeed, have de 
 scribed his course; but lie had been really averse to unfolding 
 it to Bnrgfieldi and he had, with the view to a greater reward, 
 thrown himself in the way of Tarleton, of whose approach he 
 had been apprized. He was true in all respQcts, to the simple 
 and selfish principle upon which his education had been 
 grounded by his miserable mother. Barslield had no farther 
 objection to urge on the subject. lie was entirely deceived 
 by the manner of the scout. But there was yet another topic 
 of interest between them, and to this he called his attention. 
 
 " You have not yet been successful with this boy ? he lives 
 yet" 
 
 "Yes, but you have him now, and he can t help himself. 
 He is under your knife." 
 
 " Ay !" exclaimed the tory, with an expression of counte 
 nance the most awfully stern, and with a tone of concentrated 
 bitterness, " ay ! but I am as far oft , farther off, indeed, than 
 ever. My hands are tied ; he is intrusted to my charge in 
 particular, and my own fidelity is interested in preserving 
 nirn." 
 
 "Eh?" Avas the simple and interrogative monosyllable with 
 which the scout replied to what was too nice a subtilty in 
 morals to be easily resolvable by a mind so unconventional as 
 his own. Barsfield saw the difficulty, and tried to explain. 
 
 " I can not violate a trust which is confided to me. I must 
 preserve and protect, and even fight against his enemies, so 
 long as he remains in my custody." 
 
 " He is your enemy ?" said Blon ay, still wholly uninfluenced 
 by the remark of Barsfield. 
 
THE IIAr.F-BRKlCn AND THE TORY. 257 
 
 lle i, Kc is still my enemy." 
 
 And you his ?" 
 Yes." 
 
 " He in aneath your knife ?" 
 
 " Yes, entirely." 
 
 The savage simply replied by taking his knife from its 
 sheath and drawing its back across his own neck, while his 
 Countenance expressed all the fierce emotions of one engaged 
 in the commission of a murder. The face of Barsfield took no 
 small portion of the same fierce expression : catching the hand 
 of the speaker firmly in his own, he replied 
 
 Ay, and iio ctroke would give me more pleasure than that. 
 It would be life to me his death and why may it not be 
 done ? It may be done! Blonay, we will speak again of this; 
 but be silent now, keep close, and tell me where I may look 
 for you to-night ?" 
 
 " There !" and he pointed to a little swamp or bay, in which 
 he had slept before. It lay at the distance of a mile, more or 
 less, from the camp, which had been already formed in the 
 park, and near the yet consuming mansion. 
 
 "There I keep in the bay at night; for, though it taint 
 got no cypresses, sich as I used to love down upon the Ashley, 
 and about Dorchester, yet it s a close place, and the tnpolas 
 and gums is mighty thick. You ll find me there any time 
 afore cockcrow. You have only to blow in your hands three 
 times so " producing a singular and shrill whistle at the 
 same time, by an application of his mouth to an aperture left 
 between his otherwise closed palms, " only blow so three times, 
 and I ll be with you." 
 
 The tory captain tried to produce the desired sounds, in the 
 suggested manner, which he at length succeeded in doing. 
 Satisfied, therefore, with the arrangement, he left his accom 
 plice to the contemplation of his own loneliness, and hurried 
 i way to hi* duties in the camp. 
 
258 MELLICilAMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 TUB WOLF IN NEW COLORS. 
 
 MEANWHILE the hurts of Mellichampe had all been caiefully 
 attended to. Tarlcton, so far, had kept his pledged word to 
 i lie. maiden. He was removed to a chamber in the house which 
 gave, temporary shelter to the family, and the surgeon of the 
 legionary colonel had himself attended to his injuries They 
 were found to be rather exhausting than dangerous. A slight 
 sabre-stroke upon his head had stunned him for the time, but 
 afforded no matter for very serious consideration. The severest 
 wound was the cut over the left shoulder, which had bled pro 
 fusely ; but even this required little more than cuse attendance 
 and occasional dressing. A good nurse was nore important 
 than a skilful surgeon, and no idle and feeble scruples of the 
 inferior mind stood in the way to prevent Janet Berkeley from 
 devoting herself to the performance of this duty to her be 
 trothed. 
 
 The intelligence of Mellichampe s true situation was con 
 veyed by Tarleton himself to Mr. Berkeley, in the presence of 
 his daughter. It seemed intended to, and did, reassure the 
 maiden, whose warm interest in the captive was sufficiently 
 obvious to all; as her tearful and deep apprehensions on his 
 account, and for his safety, had been entirely beyond her 
 power of concealment. 
 
 Tarleton dined that day with the Berkeley fair.ily. His man 
 ners were grave, but gentle somewhat reserved, perhaps, but 
 always easy, and sometimes elegant. He spoke but little, yet 
 what he said contributed, in no small degree, to elevate him 
 in the respect of all around. His air was subdued, when he 
 spoke, to a woman-mildnesi? and hi? words were usually ut 
 
THE WOLF US NEW COLORS. 
 
 tered in a low, soft tone, little above a common whisper, yet 
 sufficiently measured and slow in their utterance to be heard 
 without difficulty by those to whom they were addressed, 
 What a difference was there between the same man sitting at 
 the, hospitable board, ami, when leading forward his army but 
 M few hours before, he rushed headlong, with kindled and r 
 "ing spirit, upon the tracks of his flying foe! There wa* 
 nothing now in his look or language which could indicate the 
 savr.ge soldier. Was he, indeed, the same bloodthirsty war- 
 lior, whose renown, by no means an enviable one, had been 
 acquired by the most wanton butcheries in the fields of Caro 
 i;ia 7 This was the inquiry in the minds of all those who 
 now looked upon him. Certainly a most remarkable alteration 
 seemed, in the eyes of all who before had known him, in a 
 Hi tie time to have come over the spirit of the fierce warrior; 
 and it is somewhat singular and worthy of remark, that he 
 gained no distinction, and won no successes of any moment, 
 after this period. His achievements were few and unimpor 
 tant ; and two repulses which he received at the hands of 
 Sumter, followed up, as they were, by the terrible defeat which 
 he sustained at the Cowpens, finished his career as a. favorite 
 of fortune in the partisan warfare of the South. His name 
 lost its terrors soon after this among those with whom it had 
 previously been so potent ; and, though his valor was at all 
 periods above suspicion, yet, in his reverses, it became the 
 fashion to disparage his soldierly skill, even among those whom 
 he commanded. It was then discovered that he had only con 
 tended, hitherto, with raw militiamen, whom it required but 
 little merit, beyond that of mere brute courage, to overthrow ; 
 and that his successes entirely ceased from the moment when 
 that same militia, taught by severe and repeated experience 
 of defeat, had acquired, in time, some little of the address of 
 regular and practised warfare. There was, no doubt, much 
 Uiat was sound in this opinion. 
 
 But the dinner was fairly over, and Tarleton withdrew, 
 ufter a few moments devoted to pleasant conversation with the 
 QOW composed Rose Duncan, from whose mind all the terrors 
 oC the previous combat, in which she had shared so much, 
 
260 MKLLTCL1AMFE. 
 
 seemed entirely to have gone. Slic was only a creature of 
 passing impressions. To Janet lie said but. little ; but bis eyes 
 sometimes rested upon ber with an air of melancboly abstrac 
 tion, wbicli gave to bis otherwise pale features an expression 
 of feeling and nice sensibilities, wbicb bis profession migbt 
 seem to belie. Bnt, before be took bis departure, be led ber 
 aside to a window in the cottage, and tlms addressed her, in 
 tbe style of one sufficiently ber friend and senior to speak 
 firmly and directly, even on a topic tbe most difficult and de 
 licate in tbe estimation of a maiden. 
 
 4< I have given Captain Barsfield bis orders touching our pris 
 oner, Miss Berkeley ; perbaps it would not be impleasing to 
 you to know what those orders are ?" 
 
 She looked down, and ber desire to bear was sufficiently 
 shown in ber unwillingness to speak. He proceeded, after a 
 brief pause, in the course of whicb his lips put on the same 
 sweet smile of graciousness wbicb bad won the heart of the 
 maiden before ; while, at tbe same time, it commanded a some 
 thing more in tbe way of return than a mere corresponding 
 deference of manner. So foreign to his lips was that expres 
 sion, so adverse to bis general character was that smile of 
 gentleness, that even while it gratified her to behold it, she 
 looked up to the wearer of it with a feeling little short of 
 awe. 
 
 " Mr. Mellicbampe is in no danger no present danger 
 as my surgeon informs me ; but be must be kept quiet and 
 without interruption until well, as he appears feverish, and 
 bis mind seems disposed to wander. The better to effect 
 this object, I have ordered, that except my surgeon and his 
 assistant, none but your father and yourself shall be ad 
 mitted to bis chamber. I have made this exception in your 
 favor, Miss Berkeley, as my surgeon at tbe same time informs 
 me that be will need tbe offices of a careful nurse 
 
 " Ob, sir " was tbe involuntary exclamation of Janet, as 
 she beard this language ; but Tarleton did not allow her to 
 proceed. 
 
 " No idle objections, my dear young lady, no false notions 
 of propriety and a misplaced delicacy at this moment. I 
 
THE WOLF IN NEW COLORS. 26 i 
 
 know sufficiently your secret ; which is no secret now to 
 any in our troop. Your duty commands that you attend tins 
 young man, and none but the feeble mind will find any fault 
 with you for its performance. In matters of this sort, your 
 own heart is the best judge, and to that I leave*5t, whether 
 you will avail yourself of the privilege which I have granted 
 you or not. The youth is in no danger, says my surgeon, hut 
 he may be if he is not carefully nursed. Pardon me for so 
 long detaining you, I shall do so no longer. My orders arc 
 given to secure you at all times admission to the chamber of 
 Mr. Mellichampe, should you desire it." 
 
 " But, oh ! sir, what of Captain Barsfield 1 These charges " 
 
 " Are slight, no doubt, but must be inquired into. Mr. Melli 
 champe is the prisoner of Captain Barsfield, and must await 
 his trial. I can do nothing further, unless it be to promise that 
 all justice shall he done him." 
 
 " But may he not be put in other hands, Colonel Tarleton, 
 than those of Captain Barsfield ? Oh ! sir I dread that man 
 He will do Mellichampe some harm." 
 
 " Fear not, Captain Barsfield dare not harm him, he has 
 quite too much at venture. It is for this very reason, with the 
 view to the perfect security of the prisoner, that I have made 
 Barsfield his keeper. His fidelity is pledged for the security 
 of his charge, and I have dwelt upon the responsibility to him 
 in t such language as will make him doubly careful. But, you 
 do Captain Barsfield wrong ; he has no such design as that 
 you speak of; his hostility to Mr. Mellichampe is simply that 
 of the soldier toward his enemy. Unless in fair fight, I am 
 sure he would never do him harm." 
 
 Janet shook her head doubtfully, as she replied, " I know 
 him better, sir, I know that he hates Mellichampe for many 
 reasons, but I may not doubt the propriety of your arrange 
 ments. I will, sir, take advantage of the permission made in 
 my favor, and will myself become the nurse of Mr Melli 
 champe. Why should I be afraid or ashamed, sir 1 Am I not 
 his betrothed his wife in the sight of Heaven 1 I will be 
 his nurse why should I be ashamed ?" 
 
 " Ay; why should you, Miss Berkeley ? Truth and virtue 
 
262 
 
 MKLLTCHAMPE. 
 
 may well be fearless, at all times, of human >piniori ; and they 
 cease to be truth and virtue when the fear of what men may 
 tli ink, or say, induces a disregard of that which they conceive- 
 to lie their duty. With me you lose nothing by the declara 
 tion you have just made. It is one I looked for from you. 
 The confidence of virtue is never unworthy of the source from 
 which it springs, and it doubly confirms and strengthens virtue 
 itself, when it shows the possessor to be renolute after right, 
 without regard to human arrangements, or the petty and pas 
 sing circumstances of society. It is the child s love that is 
 driven from its ground by the dread of social scandal. The, 
 only love that man esteems valuable is that which can dare nil 
 things, but wrong, in behalf of the valued object. This i<? 
 your love now, and you have my prayer if the prayer of a 
 rough soldier like myself be not a wrong to so pure a spirit 
 that it be always hallowed in the sight of Heaven, and suc 
 cessful beyond the control of earth." 
 
 He took a respectful parting, and on leaving her to rejoin 
 the party, his manner changed to that of the proud man he 
 commonly appeared. An inflexible sternness sat upon his pale 
 and stonelike countenance the lips were set rigidly the 
 eye was shrouded by the overhanging brow, that gathered 
 above it like some heavy cloud over some flaming and malig 
 nant planet. He spoke but lew words to the rest of the 
 family. A cold word of acknowledgment to Mr. Berkeley, a 
 courteous bow. and farewell to Rose Duncan, whose confidence 
 was now half restored, the din of battle being over, and a 
 single look and partial smile to Janet, preceded his immediate 
 departure to the edge of the forest, where, during the dinner 
 repast, his temporary camp had been formed. From this point 
 he threw out his sentinels and sent forth his scouting parties. 
 These latter traversed the neighboring hummocks, and ran 
 sacked every contiguous cover, in which a lurking squad of 
 rebels might have taken up a hiding-place, in waiting for the 
 moment when a fancied security on the part of the foe should 
 invite to the work of annoyance or assault. Such was the na 
 ture of the Indian warfare which the " swamp fox," with so 
 wch general success, had adopted as his own. Tarleton 
 
THE WOLF JN NEW UOLOR8. 
 
 knew too well the danger of surprise, with a foe so wary in 
 his neighborhood, and accordingly spared none of those pre 
 cautions to which, in ordinary cases, hitherto, he had been 
 rather indifferent. lie cited Blonay before him on reaching 
 his camp, examined him cjosely as to the route they were next 
 day to pursue, and concluded by warning him to be in readi 
 ness with the dawn of day. 
 
 "You shall be well rewarded if we succeed," were his con 
 cluding words to the scout," well rewarded if you are faithful, 
 (won th.cue-h we do not succeed ; but if you fail me, sirrah, if 
 I catch you playing false, the first tree and a short cord are 
 your certain doom." 
 
 The half-breed touched his cap, and, without showing any 
 emotfon at this language, retired from the presence of t.i^i 
 
264 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 SCOUTING. 
 
 THAT night, as soon as he deemed it prudent, Barsrield, 
 punctual to his engagement with the half-breed, left the 
 camp, and, without observation, proceeded to the place of 
 meeting which had been determined upon between them. He 
 was not long in finding the person he sought. Blonay was no 
 less punctual than his employer, and the shrill whistle of the 
 latter, thrice icpeated through his folded hands, soon brought 
 him from his cover. The half-breed answered the signal 
 readily, an a _ a few moments after emerged from the hum 
 mock in which, with a taste of his own, he had taken up his 
 abode. A dim light was shining from the sky, only sufficient 
 to enable the tory to recognise the outline, but not the sev 
 eral features, of his companion s perscu. Blonay freely ex 
 tender! h:s hand, and the fleshless, tony fingers took in their 
 grasi trose of Barsfield, who did not hesitate to follow his 
 guidance, though he somewhat !cathed the gripe of his con 
 ductor. 
 
 " T.liy go further why no i, iCinain and talk here?" was 
 his demand. 
 
 "There s no telling, cappin, who s a listening. Singleton s 
 men s watching me now; and Colonel Tarleton, he doesn t 
 trust me, and there s two of the dragoons that s kept close on 
 my heels ever since I seed him last. It s true I dodged em 
 when the sun went down, but they re on the look-out yet, I 
 reckon." 
 
 " And why did you dojlge them you didn t mean to run ?" 
 demanded the other. 
 
 "No, but I d rather a man shoot me than peep over my 
 
SCOUTING. 
 
 2G5 
 
 shoulder; it s like a log round the neck, to be always looked 
 after." 
 
 " And why do you think that Singleton s men are also look 
 ing out for you?" 
 
 " Cause one of them knows I m in these parts, and lie 
 knows I m dangerous." 
 
 " But can he find you ?" 
 
 " He s a born swamp-sucker like myself, and lie s dangerous 
 too. He knows I m hereabouts, and I reckon he can t sleep 
 easy till he finds me or I find him." 
 
 Barsfield no longer objected, and together they penetrated 
 the covert until they reached a dry spot, where, with a fancy 
 as natural as it was peculiar, the half-breed had chosen his 
 temporary dwelling, in preference to that of the camp or plan 
 tation. A few brands of the resinous pine, in which commodity 
 the country around was abundantly supplied, were huddled 
 together and in a blaze, which, though bright enough to illu 
 mine all objects around them, was imperceptible on the outer 
 edge of the hummock, from the exceeding density of its foliage. 
 A huge gum-tree, that stood upon the bank, sent up bulgingly 
 above the surface a monstrous series of roots, which, covered 
 with fresh moss, had made the pillow of the inhabitant, A 
 thick coat of clustering oak-leaves, the tribute of a tree that 
 had made such a deposite probably for a hundred winters, 
 composed the sylvan couch of the outlier, while the folding 
 and thickly-leaved branches overhead afforded him quite as 
 gracious a cover from the unfriendly dews as it was in the 
 nature of a form so callous to need or to desire. But the place 
 seemed cheerless to Barsfield, in spite of the genial tempera 
 ture of the season, and the bright flame burning before him. 
 
 "And you sleep hero, Mr. Blonay?" was his involuntary 
 question. 
 
 " Yes, cappin, here or further in the bush. If I hear strange 
 noises that I don t like, I slips down further into the bay, and 
 then I m sure to be safe, for it s a mighty troublesome way to 
 take, and very few people like to hunt in such bottoms ; it s all 
 sloppy, and full of holes, and the water s as black as pitch." 
 "What noise is that?" said Barsfield. 
 
266 
 
 -MKLLIC1IAMPK. 
 
 "Oh, that? that s only my big alligator: I can tell his 
 voice from all the rest, for it sounds hoarse, as if he had 
 cotched a cold from coming out too soon last May. He s a 
 mighty hig fello\v, and keeps in a deep, dirty pond, jist to the 
 tack of you. .1 shouldn t be supprised to see him crawling out 
 this way directly; he sometimes does when I m lying here in 
 the daytime." 
 
 Barsfield started and looked round him, as an evident rust 
 ling in the rear ssemed to confirm the promise of Blonay. 
 The latter smiled as he proceeded : 
 
 " Don t be scared, cappin, for if a body aint scared he can t 
 do no harm with em. When he comes out and looks at me, I 
 jist laughs at him, and claps my hands, and he takes to his 
 heels directly. They won t trouble you much only when 
 they re mighty hungry, and aint seed hog-meat for a long 
 time, and then they won t trouble you if you make a great 
 noise and splash the water at eni." 
 
 " Why don t you shoot him ?" 
 
 " Adrat it ! I did n t load for him ; it s no use : if I had been 
 to shoot alligators, I need n t have come up from Goose creek. 
 I could have had my pick there, at any time, of a dozen, jist 
 as big and not so hoarse as this fellow : I picked my bullet 
 for quite another sort of varmint." 
 
 " And what of him? Have you seen him?" 
 
 "Yes," was the single and almost stern reply. 
 
 "Within rifle shot?" 
 
 " Not twenty yards off," was the immediate answer. 
 
 " And why did you spare him ?" 
 
 " Other people was with him : I would have shot him by 
 himself." 
 
 " I sec ; you had no wish to be cut up immediately after 
 Vour hatred to your enemy, Blonay, does not blind you to the 
 wisdom of escaping after you have murdered him." 
 
 The half-breed did not seem to understand what Barsfield 
 said ; but his own meaning was so obvious to himself, that he 
 did not appear to think it necessary to repeat his words, or 
 undertake more effectually to explain them. His, indeed, 
 was the true Indian warfare, as, in great patt, his was tht 
 
SCOUTING. 267 
 
 Indian blood and temper. To win every advantage, to secure 
 success and triumph without risk and with impunity, are the 
 principles of the savage nature always ; and to obtain revenge 
 without corresponding disadvantage, makes the virtue of such 
 an achievement. These, itjdeed, may be held the principles 
 of every people conscious of inferiority to those whom they 
 oppose and hate. 
 
 So far the dialogue between Barsfield and his comrade had 
 been carried on Avithout any reference to the particular subject 
 of interest which filled the bosom of the former. He seemed 
 reluctant to speak further upon this topic; and, when he did 
 speak, his reluctance, still preserved, produced a halting and 
 partial utterance only of his feelings and desires, as if he 
 somewhat repented of the degree of confidence which he had 
 already reposed in the person to whom he spoke. But the 
 desire to avail himself of the services of this man, and the con 
 sciousness of having already gone so far as to make any future 
 risk of this sort comparatively unimportant, at length impelled 
 him to a full expression of his desire to get Mellichampe out 
 of his way, and, with this object, to hear from Blonay, and to 
 suggest himself, sundry plans for this purpose. The great 
 difficulty consisted in the position of Barsfield himself in rela 
 tion to the prisoner so particularly intrusted to his charge by 
 Tarleton, and with orders so imperative and especial. Tliis 
 was th,e grand difficulty, which it required all the ingenuity 
 of Barsfield to surmount. Had Mellichampe been the prisoner 
 of Tarleton, or of any other person than Barsfield himself, the 
 murder of the youth would most probably have been effected 
 that very night, such was the unscrupulous hatred of the tory, 
 if not of Blonay. For the present, we may say that the half- 
 breed might not so readily have fallen into any plan of Bars- 
 field which would have made him the agent in the commission 
 of the deed. 
 
 " You go with Tarleton to-morrow : you will not keep with 
 him, for he goes down to Sinkler s Meadow. When do you 
 return ?" 
 
 " Well, now, there s no telling, cappin, seeing as how the 
 colonel may want me to go long with him." 
 
208 
 
 MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 " He will not, when you have shown him to the camp of 
 Marion." 
 
 " Well, if so be he don t, I ll be back mighty soon after I 
 leaves him. I don t want to go with him, cause I known 
 there s no finding a man s enemy in pertic lar, when there s a 
 big company long." 
 
 "It is well. You will be back, then, by to-morrow night, 
 and I will then put you upon a plan which will enable you to 
 get this boy out of the way for me." 
 
 "Well, but, cappin, ha n t you got him now? It s mighty 
 riasy now, as 1 tell d you before, to do for him yourself." 
 
 "You do not seem to understand, Blonay. I am prevented 
 from doing anything, as Tarleton has made me directly respon 
 sible for the appearance of the prisoner." 
 
 "Ad rat it, who s to know when the colonel s gone? The 
 chap s hurt and sick. Reckon he can die by natur." 
 
 Barsfield understood him, and replied 
 
 "Yes, and nature might be helped in his case, but that 
 Tarleton s own surgeon and assistants remain, and none but 
 the Berkeley family are to be admitted to the prisoner. If I 
 could report at my pleasure on his condition, it might easily be 
 done; but I can not. It must be done by another, if done at 
 all, and in such a way as will show that I could have had no 
 hand in it. I have a plan in my mind for this purpose, which 
 you shall execute on your return, by which means I shall 
 avoid these difficulties. You are willing?" 
 
 " Well, yes, I reckon. It don t take much to finish a chap 
 that s half dead already; but I say, cappin does you 
 really think now that that ere gal has a notion for him ?" 
 
 The question seemed to Barsfield exceedingly impertinent, 
 and he replied with a manner sufficiently haughty : 
 
 "What matters it to you, sirrah, whether she has such a 
 notion or not? How does it concern you 1 and what should 
 you know of love ?" 
 
 "No harm, cappin I doesn t mean any harm; it don t 
 sonsarn me, that s true. But, adrat it, cappin, she s a mighty 
 fine gal : and she does look so sweet and so sorry all the time, 
 jist as if she wouldn t hurt a mean crawling black spider that 
 was agin the wall." 
 
SCOUTING. WSJ 
 
 Barsfield looked with some surprise at the speaker, as he 
 heard him utter a language so like that of genuine feeling, and 
 in tones that seemed to say that he felt it ; and he was about to 
 make some rernark when Blonay, who had stood during this 
 dialogue leaning with his shoulder against a tree, and his head 
 down in a listless manner upon his bosom, now started into an 
 attitude and expression of the most watchful consciousness. 
 A pause of a few moments ensued, when, hearing nothing, 
 Barsfield was about to go on with the speech which the man 
 ner of his companion had interrupted, when the half-breed 
 again stopped him with a whisper, while his finger rested upon 
 the arm of the tory in cautious warning. 
 
 "Hist; I hear them there are no less than three feet in 
 that swamp don t you hear them walking in the water? 
 There, now. You hear when the flat of the foot comes down 
 upon the water." 
 
 " I hear nothing," said Barsfield. 
 
 Without a word, the half-breed stooped to the single brand 
 that was now blazing near them, and gathering a double hand 
 ful of dirt from the hillock, he threw it upon the flame and 
 extinguished it in an instant. The next moment they heard 
 the distant crackling of dry sticks and a rustling among the 
 leaves. . 
 
 " It may be your great alligator," said Barsfield. 
 
 " No it s men Marion s men, I reckon and there s three 
 of them, at least. They are spying on the carnp. Lie close." 
 
 Barsfield did not immediately stoop, -and the half-breed did 
 not scruple to grasp his arm with an urgency and force which 
 brought the tory captain forward. He trod heavily as he did 
 bo upon a cluster of the dried leaves which had formed the 
 :ouch of Blonay, and a slight whistle reached their ears a 
 moment after, and then all was silence. The tory and his 
 companion crouched together behind the huge gum under 
 which the latter had been accustomed to sleep, and thus they 
 remained without a word for several minutes. No sound in all 
 that time came to their senses; and Barsfield, rather more 
 adventurous than Blonay, or less taught in the subtleties of 
 3wamp warfare, tired of his position, arose slowly from the 
 ground and thrust his head from beh iad the tree, endeavoring. 
 
270 MKLLICHAMPK. 
 
 in tlic dim liglit that occasionally stole from the heavens into 
 those deep recesses, to gather what he could of the noises 
 which had disturbed them. The hand of the half breed, 
 grasping the skirts of his coat, had scarcely drawn him back 
 into the shelter of the tree, when the whizzing of the bullet 
 through the leaves, and the sharp crack of the rifle, warned 
 him of his own narrow escape, and of the close proximity of 
 (1 anger. 
 
 " I knows where they are now," said Blonay, in a whisper, 
 changing his position; "we are safe enough if you can stick 
 close to me, cappin." 
 
 "Lead on I ll follow," was the reply, in the same low 
 whisper which conveyed the words of Blonay. The half- 
 breed instantly hurled a huge half-burnt chunk of wood 
 through the bushes before him, the noise of which he neces 
 sarily knew would call the eyes of the scouts in that direction; 
 then, in the next instant, bounding to the opposite side, he 
 took his way between two clumps of bays which grew in the 
 miry places along the edge of the tussock on which they had 
 been standing. Barsfield followed closely -and without hesita 
 tion, though far from escaping so well the assaults of the briers 
 and bushes upon his cheeks. His guide, with a sort of instinct, 
 escaped all these smaller assailants, and, though he heard the 
 footsteps behind of his pursuers, he did not now apprehend any 
 danger, either for himself or his companion, having thrown the 
 thick growth of bays between them. 
 
 The party which so nearly effected the surprise of the two 
 conspirators came out of their lurking-place an instant after 
 their flight. The conjecture of the half-breed had been cor 
 rect. They were the men of Marion. 
 
 "You fired too soon, Lance," were the words of Humphries, 
 " and the skunk is. off. Had you waited but a little longer we 
 should have had him safe enough. Now there s no getting 
 him, for he has too greatly the start of us." 
 
 " I couldn t help it, Mr. Humphries. I saw the shiny but 
 tons, and I thought I had dead aim upon him." 
 
 " "Rut bow comes he with shiny buttons, John Davis?" said 
 f Isries, quickly. "When you saw him to-day he had on 
 
ROUTING & \ 
 
 <Yes I seed him plain enough," said Davis, and I could 
 swear U> the homespun but didn t you hear as if two Avas 
 walking together?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Well, I did; and twas reasonable I should hear before 
 you, seeing I was ahead. I heard them clear enough, first one 
 and then t other, and one walked in the water while t other 
 Avas on the brush." 
 
 D n the skunk, that I should lose him; it s all yom 
 fault, Lance. You re too quick and hot headed, now-a-days ; 
 and it ll be a long time before you can he a good swamp fox, 
 unless you go more slowly, and learn to love less the sound of 
 your rifle. But it s useless to stay here now, and we ve got 
 other work to do. Our sport s spoiled for this time, and all 
 Ave can do is to take off as quick as we can ; for it won t be 
 long before the scouts of Tarleton will be poking here after 
 us. That shot must bring them in this direction, so we ll push 
 round to the opposite side of the bay, Avhere the rest of the 
 red-coats are in camp." 
 
 "But, Mr. Humphries, can t I go now and pick off that sen 
 try Ave passed by the avenue ?" demanded Lance Frampton, 
 Avith much earnestness. 
 
 "No, d n the sentry; if you had picked off this skunk of a 
 half-breed, it would have been something UOAV I should have 
 thanked you for; that s what I mostly come after. As for 
 the other, there s too much risk now. We must take a cross- 
 track, and get round to the river by the gun-flats. Come, 
 push away." 
 
 They had scarcely moved off \vhen a stir and hum in the 
 direction of Tarleton s camp announced to them that the alarm 
 had been given, and hurried the preparations of Humphries 
 for their departure. The scouts of Barsfield, led by the tory 
 himself and guided by Blonay, after a Avhile scoured narroAvly 
 the recesses of the bay : but the men of Marion had melted 
 away like spectres in the distant woods; and, chafed and cha 
 grined, the tory Avent back to his quarters, fatigued with the 
 unprofitable pursuit, and irritated into sleeplessness, as he 
 found himself in the close neighborhood of a foe so wary am) 
 
272 MEL: :cu AMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE BI11I) FLOWN. 
 
 AT day-dawn the next morning, the trumpet of the legion 
 sounded shrilly over the grounds where Tarleton, during the 
 night, had made his encampment. With the signal each 
 trooper was at his post. Tarleton himself was already dressed, 
 and about to buckle the heavy sabre at his side which his arm 
 h?id ever been so proverbially ready to wield. The fire, the 
 stern enthusiasm, which grew out of his impatience for the 
 strife, already glowed balefully and bright upon Ins counte 
 nance, lie v/as joined at this moment by another AU officer; 
 a man something his senior, and, like him, accustomed seem 
 ingly lo command. 
 
 " Your trumpets sound unseasonably, Tarleton, and de 
 stroyed as pleasant a vision as ever came from the land of 
 dreams. 1 fancied the wars were over that I was once again 
 in old England, with all the little ones and their sweet dam 
 about me; and your heartless trumpet took them all from my 
 embrace all at one fell swoop." 
 
 Tarleton smiled, but smiled in such a sort that the speaker 
 almost blushed to have made his confession of domestic ten 
 derness to such uncongenial ears. He continued : 
 
 " Hut you care nothing for these scenes, and scruple not to 
 break into such pleasures to destroy. You have no such sweet 
 cares troubling you at home." 
 
 " None, MoncriefF- none, or few. Perhaps I might please 
 no less than surprise you, were I to say that I wish I had; 
 but I will not yield yon so much sympathy ; particularly 
 indeed, as there is no time for these matters or such talk when 
 Wfc are on the eve of grappling with an enemy." 
 
TIIK BIRD FLOWN. 
 
 273 
 
 -Enemy? what enemy?" demanded the other. 
 
 "Our old enemy, the swamp-fox, " responded Tarleton, 
 
 coolly. 
 
 "What, Marion ! why, where is he?" 
 
 " But a few miles off. I hope to have late breakfast with 
 him time serving, God willing, and our appetite for fight as 
 good as that for breakfast." 
 
 " But know you where he is, and how? Will he stand for 
 your coming? Will he not fly, as usual double himself 
 round a cypress while you are piercing your way through its 
 bowels ?" 
 
 " Ay, doubtless if he can ; we must try to prevent that, and 
 I have hopes that we can do it. His scouts have been around 
 us, like so many vultures, all night; and Barsfield reports that 
 one has had the audacity to fire upon a sentinel. This shows 
 him to be at hand, and in sufficient force to warrant the belief 
 that he will stand a brush." 
 
 " But how find him, Tarleton ? His own men can not easily 
 do that, and you have never yet been allowed to see his 
 feathers." 
 
 "I shall now, however, I think ; for I perceive our guide 
 stands in readiness, Look at him, Moncrieff: did you ever 
 see such a creature ? Look at his eyes ; do they not give you 
 pain, positive pain, to survey them? They seem only to be 
 kept* in his head by desperate effort; and yet, behold his 
 form. He does not appear capable of effort scarcely, in 
 deed, of movement. His limbs seem hung on hinges, and one 
 leg, as you perceive, appears always, as now, to have thrown 
 the whole weight, of the body upon the other." 
 
 " A strange monster, indeed : and is that the creature to 
 serve you? Can he put you on the trail ?" 
 
 " He pledges himself to do so. He has seen the swamp- 
 fox and his men, all at ease, in their camp, and promises that 
 i shall see them too, under his guidance." 
 
 " And you will trust him ?" 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " What security have you that he does not carry you into 
 trap ?" 
 
274 MKf.UCHAMPK. 
 
 "His own neck ; for, as sure as lie makes a false move, h? 
 swings from the nearest sapling. He shall he watched." 
 
 " If this be the case, Tarleton, how can you go forward 1 
 Will it not be for me then to execute my mission T 
 
 "Not till I fail. If I can drub Marion, and either put hiir. 
 to death or make a prisoner of him, your mission will be null. 
 There will be no use in buying one whom we can beat. liut 
 if he now escapes me, I give it up. He would escape the 
 devil. You may then seek him out with your most pacific 
 aspect; offer him his pension and command among us, as our 
 sagacious commander-in- chief has already devised, and make 
 the best use afterward of his skill in baffling Green, as he so 
 long has baffled us. If he does half so well for his majesty as 
 or his continental prog-princes, he will be worth quite as 
 juich as you offer for him, and something more." 
 
 "True; but, Tarleton, this .chance may never offer again. 
 We may never get a guide who will be able to pilot me 
 through these d d impervious and pestilential morasses 
 certainly few to show me where to find him out." 
 
 " We must risk that, Moncrieff. I will not give up my 
 present chance of striking him, though you never have the 
 opportunity you seek. He has baffled me too long already, 
 and my pride is something interested to punish him. The 
 prospect is a good one, and I will not lose it. Hark you, 
 fellow!" 
 
 The last words were addressed to Blonay, who, in sight 
 of the speaker all the while, now approached at the order. 
 The stern, stony eye of the fierce legionary rested upon him 
 searchingly, with a penetrating glance scarcely to be with 
 stood by any gaze, and certainly not by that of the half breed, 
 who never looked any one in the face. Some seconds elapsed 
 before Tarleton spoke ; and when he did, his words weue cold. 
 slow, brief, and to the purpose. 
 
 " You are ready, sir?" 
 
 The reply was affirmative. 
 
 "You hold to your assertion that you can lead me to wher .; 
 Marion camps ? 
 
 " I can lead you sir, to his camp, but I can t say for his 
 
TDK BIRD FLOWN. 275 
 
 Icing in it. He may get wind of you, if his scouts happen to 
 be out." 
 
 "I know, I know, you said this before, and proposed, if I 
 remember rightly, that I should divide my force in order to 
 mislead. But I know better than to do that. I risk nothing 
 now when I know nothing of his force, and I am not so sure, sir, 
 that you are altogether the man to be relied on. I shall watch 
 you, sirrah ; and remember, it is easier, fellow, to hang you up 
 to a bough than to threaten it. Go prepare. Ho ! there, 
 Hodgson, put half a dozen of your best dragoons in charge of 
 this guide, and keep him safe, as you value your bones." 
 
 " I will not run, sir," said Blonay, looking up for the first 
 time into the face of Tarleton. 
 
 " I know that, sir you shall not," responded the other coolly. 
 
 The signal to move was given in a few moments after, and 
 Barsfield saw the departure of Tarleton in pursuit of Marion 
 with a singular feeling of satisfaction and relief. 
 
 It is not our present purpose, however, to pursue the route 
 taken by Colonel Tarleton in search of his famous adversary. 
 Such a course does not fall within the purpose of our present 
 narrative. It may be well, however, as it must be sufficient, 
 to say, that, under the guidance of Blonay, he penetrated 
 the !--pa^ious swamp of the Santee, and was led faithfully into 
 and thr9ugh its intricacies but he penetrated them in vain. 
 Step by otep. as the dense body pressed its way through brake, 
 bog, mid brier, did they hear the mysterious signals of the 
 \vaU .)if ul partisans, duly communicating to one another the ap 
 proach of the impending danger. 
 
 Vainly did Tarleton press forward his advance in the hope 
 of arriving at tjie camp before these signals could possibly reach 
 it ; but such a pathway to his heavily-mounted men was very 
 different in itfi facilities to those who were accustomed daily 
 to glide through it ; and the scouts of Marion hung about Tarle- 
 fon s advance in front, sometimes venturing in sight, and con 
 tinually within hearing, to the utter defiance of the infuriated 
 legionary, who saw that nothing could be done to diminish the 
 distance between them. At length they reached the is and 
 where the " swamp-fox" made his home, but the bird had flowa. 
 
276 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 Tlio couch of rushes \vhere Marion slept was still warm-- 
 the fragments of the half-eaten breakfast lay around the logs 
 which formed their rude hoards of repast, hut not an enemy 
 was to be seen. 
 
 Stimulating his men hy promises and threats, Tarlcton fctill 
 pursued, in the hope to overtake the flying partisans before 
 they could reach the Santee ; but in vain were all his efforts; 
 and, though moving with unexampled celerity, he arrived on 
 the banks of the rapid river only in time to behold the last of 
 the boats of the "swamp-fox" mingling with the luxurious 
 swamp foliage on the opposite side. The last twenty -four 
 hours had been busily and profitably employed by Marion. 
 He had utterly annihilated the tories who had gathered at 
 Sinkler s Meadow. Never, says the history, had surprise been 
 more complete. He came upon the wretches while they played 
 at cards, and dearly did they pay for their temerity and lieed- 
 lessness. They were shot down in the midst of dice and drink, 
 foul oaths and exultation upon their lips, and with those bitter 
 thoughts of hatred to their countrymen within their hearts 
 winch almost justified the utmost severities of that retribution 
 to which the furious partisans subjected them. 
 
LOVERS DOUBTS AND DREAMS. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 LOVERS DOUBTS AND DREAMS. 
 
 LET us now return to Janet Berkeley and the wounded Mel- 
 lichampe. Tarleton Lad not deceived the maiden. The liurti 
 of her lover, though serious and painful, were yet not danger 
 ous, unless neglected ; and as the privilege was accorded her 
 the sweetest of all privileges to one who loves truly of 
 being with and tending upon the heloved one, there was no 
 longer reason to apprehend for his safety, from the injuries al 
 ready received. The apprehensions of Janet Berkeley were, 
 naturally enough, all addressed to the future. She knew the 
 enemy in whose custody he lay ; and, though half consoled 
 by the positive assurances of Tarleton, and compelled, froir. 
 the necessity of the case, to be satisfied, she was yet far from 
 contented with the situation of her lover. 
 
 His first moment of perfect consciousness, after his wounds 
 had been dressed, found her, a sweet minister waiting at his 
 side. Her hand bathed his head and smoothed his pillow 
 her eye, dewy and bright, hung like a sweet star of promise 
 above his form her watchful care brought him the soothing 
 medicine her voice of love cheered him into hope with the 
 music of a heaven-born affection. Every whisper from her lips 
 was as so much melody upon his ear, and brought with it a 
 feeling of peace and quiet to his mind, which had not often 
 been a dweller there before. Ah, surely, love is the heart s 
 best medicine ! It is the dream of a perfect spirit- the solace 
 oFThe otherwise denied the first, the last hope of all not ut 
 terly turned away from the higher promptings and better pui 
 poses of a divine humanity. 
 
 How sweet became his hurts to Mellichampe under such at 
 
MKLLICIIAMI K 
 
 tendance ! The pain of his wounds and bruises grew int a 
 positive pleasure, as it brought her nigh to him ami so nigh 1 
 as it disclosed to his imagination such a long train o! enjoy 
 ments in the future, coming from the constant association with 
 her. Love no longer wore her garb of holyday, but, in the 
 rustic and unostentatious dress of home, she looked more 
 lovt-ly to his sight, as she seemed more natural. Hitherto, he 
 had sought her only for sweet smiles and blessing words ; now 
 she gave him those cares of the true affection which manifested 
 its sincerity, which met the demand for them unshrinkingly 
 and with pleasure, and which bore their many tests, not only 
 without complaint or change, but with a positive delight. It 
 was thus that her heart proved its disinterestedness and devo 
 tion ; and though Mcllichampe had never doubted her readi 
 ness to bestow so much, he yet never before had imagined the 
 extent of her possession, and of the sweet liberality which 
 -kept full pace with her affluence. Until now, he had never 
 realized, in his most reaching thought, how completely he 
 should become a dependant upon her regards for those sweet 
 ; sympathies, without which life is a bavren waste, having the 
 i doom of Adam that of a stern labor without yielding him 
 1 any of the flowers of Eden, and certainly withholding all, if 
 denying that most cherished of all its flowers which he brought 
 kjvyith him from its garden the flower of unselfish love. 
 
 To be able to confide is to be happy in all conditions, how 
 ever severe ; and this present feeling in his heart the perfect 
 reliance upon her affection assured and strengthened the 
 warm passion in his own, until every doubt and fear, selfish 
 ness and suspicion, were discarded from that region, leaving 
 nothing in their place but that devotedness to the one worthy 
 object which, as it is holy in the sight of Heaven, must he the 
 dearest of all human possessions in the contemplation of man. 
 
 With returning consciousness, when he discovered how she 
 had been employed he carried her hand to his lips and kissed 
 it fervently. He felt too much for several minutes to speak to 
 her. When he did, his words were little else than exclama 
 tions. 
 
 "Ah, Janet my own my all ! ever nigh to me, as you 
 
LOVKttb DOUBTS A> I) DREAMS. 
 
 Are ever clear, lio\v can I repay, how respond to such sweet 
 love? I now feel how very poor, how very dependent, how 
 very destitute I am !" 
 
 These were almost the first words which he uttered after 
 awakening- from a long, deep, and refreshing sleep, into which 
 he had been thrown by an opiate judiciously administered for 
 that object. She had no reply, but, bending down to his pillow, 
 her lips were pressed upon his forehead lightly, while her up 
 lifted finger warned him into silence. He felt a tear, but a 
 single tear, upon his cheek, while her head hung above him ; 
 and so far from being destitute, as he had avowed himself 
 before, he now felt how truly rich he was in the possession of 
 such dear regards. 
 
 " Heaven bless you, my angel," he continued, " but I must 
 talk to you, unless you will to me. Speak to me, tell me 
 all, let me know what has passed. What of Major Single 
 ton and our men ?" 
 
 "They are gone safe." 
 
 " Ah ! this is good. But Witherspoon what of him ? he 
 was fighting, when I saw him last, with two : they were pres 
 sing him hard, and I I could give him no aid. What of him ; 
 is he safe? Tell me; but do not say that harm has befallen 
 Kim." 
 
 "He, too, is safe, dear Ernest ; I saw him as he fled." 
 
 "Ha! did he leave me, then ; and where? I looked not 
 for that from him. Perhaps, it is so, he brought me to you, 
 did he not V 
 
 " He did not, but then he could not, dearest. He was com 
 pelled to fly in haste. I saw him while he fled, and the dra 
 goons came fast after him." 
 
 He Mould have put a thousand other questions, and vainly 
 she exLcjied him to silence. She was compelled to narrate 
 all she knew, in order to do that which her entreaties, in the 
 great au^iwty and impatience of his mind failed to effect. She 
 told hii_ the continued fight in the avenue, of the approach 
 of Tarl -,i, and how, when the enemy had gone in pursuit of 
 the flyivft* partisans, she had sought and found him. Of these 
 events s>9 had no recollection. She suppressed, however, all 
 
280 MELLICHAMPK. 
 
 of those matters which related to the second attempt of Bars 
 field upon his life while he lay prostrate, and of her own inter 
 position, which had saved him ; and took especial care to avoid 
 every topic which could stimulate his anger or increase his 
 anxiety. Of the conduct of Tarleton, so unusual and generous, 
 she gave a full account ; an account which gave the heard 
 quite as much astonishment as pleasure. It certainly present 
 ed to his mind s eye a new and much more agreeable feature 
 in the character of that famous, or rather infamous, soldier. 
 
 So sweet was it thus for him to hear, and so grateful to her to 
 have such a pleased auditor, that the hours flew by impercep 
 tibly, and their mutual dream of love would not soon have 
 been disturbed but for the sounds of Barsfield s voice, which 
 came from the passage-way, while he spoke in harsh dictation 
 to the sentinels who watched the chamber of the wounded 
 Mellichainpe. 
 
 The youth started as the well-known and hated accents met 
 his ears. His brow gathered into a cloud, and he half raised 
 himself from his pillow, while his eye flashed the fire of bat 
 tle, and his fingers almost violently grasped the wrist of the 
 maiden, under the convulsive spasm of fury Avhich seized upon 
 and shook his enfeebled frame. 
 
 " That voice is Barsfield s. Said you not, Janet, that I was 
 Colonel Tarleton s prisoner V 
 
 She answered him quickly, and with an air of timid appre 
 hension 
 
 " 1 did, clear Ernest ; but Colonel Tarleton has gone in 
 pursuit of General Marion." 
 
 "And I am here at t\\e mercy of this bloody wretch, this 
 scoundrel without soul or character ; at his mercy, without 
 strength, unable to lift arm or weapon, and the victim of his 
 will. Ha ! this is to be weak, this is to be a prisoner, indeed !" 
 
 Bitterly and fiercely did he exclaim, as he felt the true des 
 titution of his present condition. 
 
 " Not at his will, not at his mercy, dear Ernest. Colonel 
 Tarleton has promised me that you shall be safe, that he els. -3 
 not harm you." 
 
 She spoke rapidly in striving to reassure her lover. B : 
 
LOVERS DOUBTS AND DKKAMS. 281 
 
 arm encircled his neck, her tears flowed freely upon his cheeks, 
 while her voice, even while it uttered clearly the very words 
 of assurance which Tarleton had expressed, trembled as much 
 with the force of her own secret fears as at the open expression 
 uf his. But her lover remained unsatisfied. lie did not know 
 the nature of those securities which Barsfield tacitly placed 
 in the hands of his superior. 
 
 " Alas, Janet, I know this monster but too well not to appre 
 hend the worst at his hands. He is capable of the vilest and 
 the darkest wrongs where he hates and fears. But why should 
 I fear 1 The power of the base and the tyrannical, thank 
 Heaven ! has its limits, and he can but " 
 
 " Say not, Ernest, say not. He dare not, be will not. I 
 believe in Colonel Tarleton." 
 
 "So do not 1 ; but I fear not, my beloved. I have dared 
 death too often already; I have seen him in too many shapes, 
 to tremble at him now. I fear him not: but to die like a 
 caged rat, cooped in a narrow dungeon, and only preparing 
 myself for the knife of the murderer, is to die doubly ; and 
 this, most probably, is the doom reserved forme." 
 
 " Think not so, think not so, Ernest, I pray you, think 
 not so. God keep me from the horrible thought ! It can 
 not be that Tarleton will suffer it ; it can not be that God 
 will suffer it. I would not that you should speak so, Ernest ; 
 anil I can not think that this bad man, bad enough, though 
 I believe him to be, for anything, will yet dare so far to 
 incur the danger of offending his superior as to abuse his 
 trust and gratify his malignity in the present instance. Oh, 
 no ! he greatly fears Colonel Tarleton ; and, could you but 
 have seen the look that Tarleton gave him, as he ordered 
 him to take all care of you, had you but heard his words 
 to me and to him both, you would not feel so apprehensive; 
 and then, you know, Colonel Tarleton s own surgeon is left 
 with you-, and none are to be permitted to see you but my 
 self and such persons as he thinks proper. 
 
 "I fear nothing, Janet, but distrust everything that belongs 
 to this man Barsfield. Colonel Tarleton,. I doubt not, hag 
 taken every precaution in my favor, though why he should do 
 
HKLLfCHAMPB. 
 
 so I am at ;i lot,s to determine , but all precautions will be un 
 availing whore a in, in like Bar.sfield is bent upon crime 
 and where, in addition to his criminal propensity, he has 
 the habitual cunning of a man accustomed to its indulgence. 
 He will contrive some means to shift the responsibility of 
 the charge, in some moment or other, te other shoulders, 
 and will avail himself of that moment to rid himself of me, 
 if he possibly can. We must only be heedful of all change 
 of circumstances, and seek to apprise Witherspoon of my sit 
 uation. He will not be far off, I well know; for he must be 
 miserable in my absence." 
 
 " Oh, trust me, Ernest, I shall watch you more closely than 
 those sentinels. Love, surely, can watch as well as hate." 
 
 -Better better, my Janet. May I deserve your care 
 your love May I always do you justice, living or dying." 
 
 Her cheek rested upon his, and she wo.pt freely to hear his 
 words. He continued 
 
 " I know that you will watch over me, and I chafe not more 
 at my own weakness than at the charge and care that this 
 dreary watch must impose upon you." 
 
 "A sweet care a dear, not a dreary, watch. Oh ! Ernest 
 it is the sweetest of all cares to watch for the good of tho.se 
 we love." 
 
 "I feel it sweet to be thus watched, dearest; so sweet that, 
 ^nder other circumstances, I feel that I should not be willing 
 to relieve you of the duty. But you have little strength- - 
 little ability, in corresponding even with your will to serve 
 me. This villain will elude your vigilance he will practise 
 in some way upon you; and oh, my Janet, what if he succeed 
 in his murderous wish what if " 
 
 " With a convulsive sob, that spoke the fullness of her heart 
 and its perfect devotion, she threw herself upon his bosom. 
 and her lips responded to his gloomy anticipations while inter 
 rupting them. 
 
 "I am not strong enough to save you, Ernest, and to con 
 tend with your murderer, if such he should become; but thru 
 is one thing that I am strong enough for." 
 " What is that, dearest ?" 
 
LOVER S DOUBTS AND DKEAMS. 283 
 
 " To die for you at any moment." 
 
 And, for an hour after, a tearful silence, broken only by an occa 
 sional word, which spoke, like a long gathering tear, the overcrowd 
 ing emotions to which it brought relief, was all the language of those 
 two loving hearts, thus mirfgling sweetly together amid the strife and 
 the storm the present evil, the impending danger, and the ever- 
 threatening dread. The strife and the hate without brought neither 
 strife nor hate to them, and, like twin forms, mutually devoted to 
 the last, amid the raging seas and on a single spar, they clung 
 to each other, satisfied, though the tempest raged and the waves 
 threatened, to perish, if they might perish together. They were not, 
 in those sad moments, less confident and conscious of the sweets of a 
 mutual love, though filled with anticipations of evil, and though 
 they well knew that a malignant and unforgiving Hate stood watch 
 ing at the door. And the affection was not less sweet and sacred that 
 it was followed by the thousand doubts and apprehensions which at 
 no moment utterly leave the truly devoted, and which, in the present 
 instance, came crowding upon them with a thousand auxiliary terrors 
 to exaggerate the form of the danger, and to multiply the accumula 
 ting stings of fear. 
 
284 MULLICHAMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 LOVE PASSAGES. 
 
 " How sweet the days of Thalaba went by !" Mellichampe, 
 under such attendance, soon grew insensible to all his suffer 
 ings. The bruises quickly disappeared the wounds were 
 healing rapidly. The care of the nurse surpassed in its happy 
 effects the anticipations of the physicians, and the youth was 
 getting well. The spirits of the two became strong and con 
 fident with the improvement of the patient: and their hearts 
 grew happier, and their hopes more buoyant, with each day s 
 continued association. The world around them was gradually 
 excluded from their contemplation ; and, blessed with the pres 
 ence of each other, the chamber of Mellichampe his prison, 
 as it was closely watched by hostile eyes ai:.d guarded by 
 deadly weapons was large enough for the desires of one, at 
 least, of the two within it. The relation existing between 
 Janet Berkeley and Ernest Mellichampe appeared now to be 
 understood by all parties. Her father had nothing to oppose 
 - the maiden herself in the perilous moment, as it was thought, 
 to the safety of her lover, had fearlessly and proudly pro 
 claimed the ties existing between them ; and, if the prude 
 Decorum could suggest nothing against the frequent and unob 
 structed meeting of the two, Virtue herself liac no reason to 
 apprehend ; for, surely, never yet did young hearts so closely 
 and fervently cling to one another yet so completely ma ; n 
 , tain the purity and the ascendency of their souls. Love, built 
 upon esteem, is always secure from abasement it is that r^.s- 
 sion, falsely named love which grows out of a warm ima^i a- 
 tion and wild blood only, which may not be trusted by 
 88 it is seldom entirely able to trust or to control itself. 
 
LOVE PASSAGES. 
 
 285 
 
 Rose Duncan complained, however, as she suffered much !>y 
 the devotion of Janet Berkeley to her lover. This young girl 
 was one of those, thousands of whom are to be met with hourly, 
 who derive all their characteristics from the color of events 
 and things around them* She had little of that quality, or 
 combination of qualities rather, which we call character. She 
 was of a flexible and susceptible temperament. The hues of 
 her mind came from the passing zephyr, or the overhanging 
 cloud. She lacked those sterner possessions of intrinsic 
 th mght which usually make their proprietor independent of 
 circumstances, and immovable under the operation of illegiti 
 mate influences. Unlike her graver companion, she had no 
 sorrows, simply he-cause she had little earnestness of character. 
 She was usually lively and clastic in the extreme; and lie 
 who only casually observed might have imagined that a spirit 
 so cheerful as hers usually appeared would not. readily be 
 operated upon or kept down by the occurrence of untoward 
 events. But, if she lacked all of those features of sadness 
 which mellowed and made the loveliness of Janet s character, 
 and softened the quicker emotions of her soul, she was. at the 
 same time, entirely wanting in that concentration of moral 
 object which enables the possessor to address himself firmly 
 and without scruple to the contest of those evils, whether ir 
 prospect or in presence, which, nevertheless, even when over 
 come, make the eye to weep and the soul to tremble. Rose 
 Duncan would laugh at the prediction of evil, simply because 
 she could never concentrate her thoughts sufficiently upon its 
 consideration ; and thus, when it came upon her, she would be 
 utterly unprepared to encounter it. Not so with Janet Berke 
 ley. Her heart, gentle and earnest in all its emotions, neces 
 sarily inclined her understanding and imagination to think 
 upon and to estimate all those sources of evil, not less than of 
 good, which belong to, and make up, the entire whole of hu 
 man life. Its sorrows she had prepared herself to endure from 
 the earliest hours of thought ; and it was thus that, when 
 sorrow came to her in reality, it was the foregone conclusion 
 to which her reflections had made her familiar, and for winch 
 her nerves were already prepared. The tale of suffering 
 
ICELLIOHAMI R 
 
 brought forth no less grief than the actual experience of it, ana 
 far less of that active spirit of resistance and that tenacious soul 
 of endurance with which she was at all times prepared to con 
 tend with its positive inflictions. It was thus that she was ena 
 bled, when her inoro volatile companion lay unnerved and terri 
 fied at her feet, to go forth fearlessly amid all the danger and the 
 dread, traverse the field of strife unshaken by its horrors, and, 
 from among the dying and the dead, seek out the one object 
 to whom, when she had once pledged her heart, she had also 
 pledged the performance, even of a duty so trying and so sa.i ; 
 and, though she had sickened at the loathsome aspect of war 
 around her, she had felt far less of terror in that one scene of 
 real horrors than she had a thousand times before in the 
 dreams begotten by an active imagination, and a soul earnest, 
 devoted, and susceptible in the extreme. 
 
 Often did Rose Duncan chide the maiden for her exclusive 
 devotion to her lover, as she herself suffered privation from her 
 devoted ness. 
 
 " There is quite too much of it, Janet ; he will be sick to 
 death of you before you are married, if, indeed, you ever are 
 married to him, which ought to be another subject of considera 
 tion with you. It would be very awkward if, after all these 
 attentions on your part this perfect devotion, I may call it 
 he should never marry you. I should never trust any man 
 so far." 
 
 " Not to trust is not to love. When I confide less in Melli- 
 champe, I shall love him less, Rose, and I would not willingly 
 think of such a possibility. In loving him I give up all selfish 
 thoughts : I must love entirely, or not at all." 
 
 "Ah, but how much do you risk by this?" 
 
 "It is woman s risk always, Rose, arid I would not desire 
 one privilege which does not properly belong to my sex. I 
 have no qualifications in my regard for Mellichampe. To my 
 mind, his honor is as lofty as, to my heart, his affections are 
 dear. I should weep I should suffer dreadfully if 1 
 thought, for an instant, that he believed me touched wi h a 
 dingle doubt of his fidelity." 
 
 " Very right, perhaps, Janet, and you are only the bn-r.** 
 
LOVK PASSAGES. 287 
 
 girl for thinking ns you do; nut marriage and kve aiv lot 
 teries, they say, and it is no wisdom to stake one s all in ?3 
 lottery. A little venture may do well enough, but prudent 
 people will be well-minded, and keep something in reserve. I 
 like that Scotchman s advice of all tilings 
 
 " * Aye free aff hun your story tell 
 
 When \vi a bosom crony, 
 But still keep something to ywrseL 
 You seldom lull to ony 
 
 " Conceal yourself, as well s ye can 
 
 Frn critical dissection, 
 But keek through every other man 
 Wi sharpened sly inspection. " 
 
 "And I think it detestable doctrine, Rose Duncan," Janet 
 responded, with something like indignation overspreading hoi 
 beautiful, sad countenance for the instant, as a flash of parting 
 sunlight sent through the deep forests in the last moment of 
 his setting 
 
 " 1 think it detestable doctrine, only becoming in a narrow- 
 minded wretch, who, knavish himself, suspects all mankind of 
 a similar character. Such doctrines are calculated to make 
 monsters of one half of the world and victims of the other. 
 This one verse I regard as the blot in a performance otherwise 
 }f great beauty, and wisely true in all other respects. No, no, 
 Rose I may be wrong I may be weak I may give my 
 heart fondly and foolishly I may train my affections un- 
 profitably but, oh, let me confide still, though 1 suffer for it! 
 Let me never distrust where I love where I have set my 
 heart where I have staked all that I live for." 
 
 Rose was rebuked, and here, for a few moments, the conver 
 sation ended. But there was something still in the bosom of 
 Janet which needed, and at length forced, its utterance : 
 
 "And yet, Rose, there is one thing which you have wd 
 which pains me greatly. It may be true, that though, in 
 seeking Mellichampe day by day, and hour by hour, I only 
 feel myself more truly devoted to him ; it may be that such 
 will not be the feeling with him; it may be that he will, HP 
 
MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 you say, grow tired of that which he sees so frequently; it may be 
 that he will turn away from me, and weary of my regards. I have 
 heard before this, Rose, that the easy won was but little val 
 ued of men that the seeker was still unsought and that 
 when the heart of women was secured, she failed to enchain 
 that of her captor. Oh, Eose, it is death to think so. Did 
 I dream that Mellichampe would slight me did I think that 
 he could turn from me with a weary spirit and an indiffer 
 ent eye, I should pray to perish now even now, when he speaks to 
 and smiles upon me in such sort as never man spoke to 
 and smiled upom women whom he could deceive, or whom he did not 
 love." 
 
 And her head sank upon the shoulder of her companion, and she 
 sobbed with the fullness of her emotion, as if her heart were indeed 
 breaking. 
 
 It was long that day long in her estimate, not less tnan 
 in that of Mellichampe before she paid her usual visit to 
 the chamber of her lover. She was then compelled to listen to 
 those reproaches from his lips which her own heart told her 
 were justly uttered. Influenced more than she was willing to 
 admit, even to herself, by the suggestions of Rose Duncan, 
 she had purposely kept away until hour after hour had passed 
 (how drearily to both !) before she took courage to reject the 
 idle restraints of conventional arrangement, which never yet 
 had proper concern with the business of unsophisticated affection. 
 Gently he chid her with that neglect for which she could offer no 
 sort of excuse; but she hid her head in his bosom, and murmured 
 forth the true cause of her delay, as she whispered, in scarce audible 
 accents: 
 
 "Ah, Earnest, you will tire of me at last; you will only see too 
 much of me; and I am always so same, so like myself, and have so 
 few changes by which to amuse you, that you will weary of the pres 
 ence of your poor Janet." 
 
 "Foolish fears foolish fears, Janet, and too unjust to me, 
 and too injurious to us both, to permit me to suffer them 
 longer. It is because you are always the same, always so 
 like yourself, that I love you so well. I am secure, in this 
 proof, against your change. I am secure of your stability, and 
 
LOVE PASSAGES. 289 
 
 feel happy to believe that, though all things alter besides, you 
 at least will be inflexible in your continued love for me." 
 
 "Ah, be sure of t-hat, Ernest; it is too sweet to love, and 
 too dear to be loved by you, for me to change, lest I should 
 find you change also. I ean not change, I feel, until my very 
 heart shall decay. The seeds of love which have been sown 
 within it were sown by your hands, and they acknowledge 
 you only as the proper owner. Their blight can only follow 
 the blight of the soil in which they are planted, or only perish 
 through " 
 
 She paused, and the tears flowed too freely to permit her 
 to conclude the sentence. 
 
 "Through what, Janet?" he demanded, In a murmuring 
 and low tone she replied, instantly: 
 
 "Only through the neglect of him who planted them." 
 
 He folded her to his heart, and she believed the deep, fond 
 asseveration in which he assured her that no fear was more 
 idle than that which she had just expressed. 
 
 The shrill tones of the trumpet startled the lovers from tueir 
 momentary bliss. 
 
 "That sound," he said "it makes my wound shoot with 
 pain, as if the blood clamored there for escape. How I hate 
 to hear its notes sweet as they are to me when I am on 
 horseback here in this dungeon, and denied to move!" 
 
 An involuntary sigh escaped the maiden as she listened to 
 this language, and it came to her lips to say, though she spoke 
 not : 
 
 " But you are here with me, in this dungeon, Ernest, and with 
 you I am never conscious of restraint or regret. Alas for me ! 
 foiuce I must feel that, while I have no other thought of pleas 
 ure but that which comes with your presence, Ernest, your 
 pulse bounds and beats with the desire of a wider world, and 
 of other conquests, even when I, whom you so profess to love 
 beyorrd all other objects, am here sitting by your side !" 
 
 The sigh reached the ears of Mellicbampe, and his quick 
 sense and conscious thought readily divined the cause of her 
 emotion. 
 
 "Wonder not, my Janet," he exclaimed, as he caught her 
 
290 MELLTCHAMFR. 
 
 to liis bosom " wonder not that I chafe at this restraint, even 
 though blessed Avith your sympathy and presence. Here, I 
 am not less conscious of the tenure by which I hold your pres 
 ence and my own life, than of the thousand pleasures which 
 your presence brings me. I love not the less because I pine 
 to love in security ; and feel not the less happy by your side 
 because I long for the moment to arrive when no power can 
 separate us. Now, are we not at the mercy of a wretch, whom 
 we know to possess no scruples of conscience, and who feels 
 few, if any, of the restraints of power? In his mood, at his 
 caprice, we may be torn asunder, and but let us speak of 
 other things." 
 
 And the conversation turned upon brighter topics. The 
 uttered hopes and the wishes of Mellichampe cheered the 
 heart of the maiden, -until, even while the tears of a delicious 
 sensibility were streaming from her eyes, she forgot that hopo 
 had its sorrows; she forgot that love triumphant and impe 
 rial love has still been ever known as the born victim of 
 vicissitudes. 
 
GUILTY SCHEMES. 291 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 GUILTY SCHEMES. 
 
 THREE days elapsed from the departure of Blonay with 
 v /olonel Tarleton before he returned to Piney Grove. Barsfield 
 grew impatient. He had matured his plan in his mind ; he 
 liftd devised the various processes for the accomplishment of 
 his purpose, and he was feverish and restless until he could 
 confer with his chief agent in the business. He came at last, 
 and first brought intelligence to the tory of the failure of the 
 Jegionary colonel to surprise the wary Marion. 
 
 " And where now is Colonel Tarleton]" demanded Barsfield. 
 
 " Gone up after the game cock. "* 
 
 "I m glad of it," said the tory, involuntarily. "He might 
 have been in our way. When did you separate from him ?" 
 
 " Day before yesterday : he went up the river. I went 
 back into the swamp." 
 
 "And why? Had not the rebels left it? Did you not say 
 that they crossed the river on the approach of Tarleton ?" 
 
 "Yes but, adrat it! they crossed back mighty soon after 
 Tarleton had gone out of sight." 
 
 "And they are even now in the swamp again ?" 
 
 " Jist as they was at first." 
 
 "The devil! And you have seen them there since the 
 departure of Tarleton ?" 
 
 "Reckon I has." 
 
 " They are audacious, but we shall rout them soon. My 
 loyalists are corning in rapidly, and I shall soon be able, 1 
 
 Colonel Sumter so styled by Tarleton himself. Thi was no lesg th* 
 lummt ae giterre of Sumtcr than \v:is " the swamp-fox" that of Marion. I?,,t>> 
 namett are Bir.gt.ilurlv characteristic 
 
292 MKLLTCIIAMTE. 
 
 trust, to employ YOU again, and I hope with more success, in 
 ferreting tliem out. But why did you delay so long to return! 
 Have you seen your enemy?" 
 
 " Ad rat it, yes," replied the other, coldly, though with some 
 show of mortification. 
 
 "Where in the swamp?" 
 
 "No; on the road here, jist afore dark last night ; a leetle 
 more than l>ng rifle shot from the front of the avenue." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " Tworn t well. I tracked him over half a mile afore T 
 could git a shot " 
 
 The half-breed paused. 
 
 " What then?" demanded Barsfield, impatiently. 
 
 " Ad rat it ! jist as I was guine to pull trigger, a pain, some 
 thing just like a hammer-strike, went into my elbow, and the 
 bullet twas a chawed one, too must have gone fur enough 
 from the skull twas aimed fur." 
 
 " You missed him ?" inquired Barsfield. 
 
 " Reckon I did. He stuck to his critter jist as if nothing 
 had happened strange to him, and rode off in a mighty hurry." 
 
 "And how came you to miss him? You hold yourself a 
 good shot." 
 
 " Tain t often I miss ; but I felt all over, afore I pulled upon 
 him, that I was guine to miss. Something seemed to tell me 
 so. I was quite too quick, you see, and didn t take time to 
 think where I should lay my bullet." 
 
 " Yet you may have hit him. These men of Marion some 
 times stick on for hours after they get the death wound long 
 enough, certainly, to get away into some d d swamp or other, 
 where there s no getting at the carcass." 
 
 " Adrat it I m fear d I hain t troubled him much. I felt 
 as if I shouldn t hit him. I was so consarnen to hit him, you 
 see, that my eye trimbled. But there s no helping it now. 
 There s more chances yet." 
 
 " You seek him every day ?" inquired Barsfield, curious to 
 learn the habits of a wretch so peculiar in his nature. 
 
 " And night, a most every day and night, when I reckon 
 there s a chance to find him " 
 
GUILTY SCHEMES. 293 
 
 "But how do you calculate these chances ?" 
 
 " I ve got amost all his tracks. He s a master of the scouts, 
 and as I knows pretty much where they all keeps, I follows 
 him when he goes the rounds." 
 
 "Why, then, have yoU not succeeded better before? Have 
 you not frequently seen him before last night ? did you never 
 get a shot till then ?" 
 
 "Yes, three times ; but then he had other sodgers with him, 
 good shots, too, and rail swamp-suckers, sich as John Davis, 
 who s from Goose Creek, and can track a swamp sucker jist 
 as keen as myself. A single shot must be a sure shot, or taint 
 ,1 safe one. So we always says at Dorchester, and its reason, 
 too. It wouldn t be no use to shoot one, and be shot by two 
 jist after. There wouldn t be no sense in that." 
 
 " No, but little ; and yet I shall probably have to take some 
 risk of that sort with my enemy. Do yon know Blonay, that 
 I m thinking to let Mellichampe run ?" 
 
 " You ain t, sartin now, cappin ! Don t you hate him ? " 
 
 "Yes! as bitterly as ever. You wonder that I should so 
 determine toward my enemy. He is still such, and I am 
 his, not less now than ever. But I have been thinking 
 differently of the matter. I will meet him only like a man, 
 and a man of honor. His life is in my hands; I could have 
 him murdered in his bed, but I will not. More than this, 
 my word, as you know, will convict him as a spy upon iny 
 camp, and this would hang him upon a public gallows in 
 the streets of Charleston. I Avill even save him from this 
 doom. I will save him, that we may meet when neither sliall 
 have any advantage other than that which his own skill, 
 strength, and courage, shall impart. You shall help me, or 
 rather help him, in this." 
 
 " How?" was the very natural response of the half-breed. 
 
 " Assist him to escape. Hear me, if he does not escapn 
 before the week is out, I am commanded to conduct him to 
 Charleston, to stand his trial as a spy, under charges which 
 I myself must bring forward. He must be convicted, and 
 must perish as I have said, unless he escapes from my cus 
 tody before. He is too young, and, I may add, too noble. 
 
294 
 
 MKLLICOAMfE. 
 
 to die in so disgraceful a manner. Besides, that will be 
 robbing rne of my own revenge, which I now desire to take 
 with my own hands." 
 
 The last suggestion was better understood by the Indian 
 spirit of Blonay than all the rest. The tory captain proceed 
 ed 
 
 11 There are yet other reasons which prompt me to desire his 
 escape, reasons which, though stronger than a;iy of those given, 
 it is not necessary, nor, indeed, would it be advisable, for me 
 to disclose now. It is enough that I save him from a fate no 
 less certain than degrading. You can not object to give your 
 co-operation in saving the life which you were employed to 
 take." 
 
 The half-breed did not refuse the new employment thus 
 offered to his hands ; but his words were so reluctantly 
 brought forth as clearly to imply a doubt as to whether the 
 one service would be equally grateful with the other. 
 
 "How?" exclaimed Barsfield; "would you rather destroy 
 than save ?" 
 
 " Adrat it, cappin, it s easier to shoot a man than take a 
 journey." 
 
 The tory captain paused for a moment, and surveyed 
 closely the features of the savage. His own glance denoted 
 no less of the fierce spirit which had dictated the answer 
 of the latter, and gladly, at that moment, would he have 
 sent the assassin forward to the chamber of his enemy, in 
 i rder to the immediate fulfilment of the contemplated crime. 
 But a more prudent, if not a better thought, determined him 
 otherwise. He subdued, as well as he could, the rising em<> 
 tion. He strove to speak calmly, and we may add, benevo 
 lently, and a less close observer of bad passions and bad inch 
 than Blonay might have been deceived by the assumed and 
 hypocritical demeanor of Barsfield. 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Blonay, it must not be. He is my enemy, but 
 he is honorably such ; and as an honorable enemy, I am 
 bound to meet him. I must take no advantage of circum 
 stances. He must have fair play, and I must trust then to 
 good limbs, and what little, skill I may have in my weapon 
 
GUILTY SCHEMES. 
 
 295 
 
 to revenge me in my wrongs upon him. You, perhaps, do not 
 comprehend this sort of generosity. Your way is to kill your 
 enemy when you can, and in the most ready manner; and, 
 perhaps, if the mere feeling of hostility were alone to be 
 considered, yours would be as proper a mode as any other. 
 But men who rank high in society must be regulated by its 
 notions. To gratify a feeling is not so important as to gratify 
 it after a particular fashion. We kill an enemy for our OAVH 
 satisfaction ; but our seconds have a taste to be consulted, and 
 they provide the weapons, and say when and how we shall 
 strike, and stand by to share the sport." 
 
 " Adrat it, but there s no need of them. A dark wood,, close 
 on the edge of the swamp, where you can roll the carrion in 
 the bog, and that s all one wants for his enemy after the bul 
 let s once gone through his head." 
 
 "So you think, and so, perhaps, you may think rightly ; 
 but I move in a different world from you, and am compelled 
 to think differently. I can not revenge myself after your 
 fashion. I must give my enemy a chance for a fair fight. I 
 must devise a plan for his escape from the guards, and in that, 
 Blonay, I require your assistance." 
 
 "Adrat it, cappin, if so be all you want is to let the fellow 
 off, why don t you let him run without any fuss. You don t 
 want my help for that. He ll promise to meet you, I reckon, 
 in any old field, and then you can settle your concern without 
 more trouble." 
 
 " What ! and be trussed up by Cornwallis or Tarleton a 
 moment after, as a traitor, upon the highest tree ! You seem 
 to forget, Mr. Blonay, that, in doing as you now advise, I must 
 be guilty of a breach of trust, and a disobedience of orders, 
 which are remarkably positive and strict. Your counsel is 
 scarcely agreeable, Blonay, and anything but wise." 
 
 " Adrat it, cappin, won t it be a breach of trust, any how 
 supposing the chap gits off from prison by my help ?" 
 
 " Not if I can show to my superior that I maintained a 
 proper guard over him, and used every effort for his recapture." 
 
 " But how can he git off if you does that ?" inquired the 
 seemingly dull Blonay. 
 
296 
 
 MELLICRAMFE. 
 
 " I will n )t do so. I will not maintain a proper guard. I 
 will give you certain opportunities, which shall be known only 
 to yourself, and, at the same time, I shall keep up an appear 
 ance of the utmost watchfulness ; so that whatever blame may 
 attach to the proceeding, will fall full, not upon my head, but 
 the sentinel s." 
 
 " Adrat it, cappin, I suppose it s all right, as you say. I 
 can t say myself. I don t see, but should like to hear, cappin, 
 what all s to be done." 
 
 " Hear me : the prisoner must be taught that you are his 
 friend, willing, for certain reasons, and for good rewards, to ex 
 tricate him from his predicament." 
 
 " Yes, but how is he to know that? You wouldn t let any 
 body to sec him, nobody but the doctor and the young lady." 
 
 "True; but it is through the young lady herself that the 
 matter is to be executed " 
 
 " I won t do nothin to hurt the gal, cappin," exclaimed Bio- 
 nay, quickly and decisively. 
 
 " Fool ! I ask no service from you which can possibly da 
 her harm. Be not so hasty in your opinions, but hear me out 
 It is through her that you are to act on him. She has distin 
 guished you with some indulgences she sent you your break 
 fast this morning " 
 
 " She s a mighty good gal !" said the other, meditatively, 
 and interrupting the now deeply-excited and powerfully-inter 
 ested Barsfield. 
 
 " She is," said the tory, in a tone artfully conciliatory ; " she 
 is, and it will both serve and please her to extricate this youth 
 from the difficulties which surround him. He is an object of 
 no small importance in her sight." 
 
 " The gal loves him," still meditatively said the other. 
 
 " Yes, and you now have an excellent, opportunity to offer 
 her your service without being suspected of any wrong. You 
 are to seek her, and tell her what you have hoard respecting 
 the prisoner. Say that he is to be sent to town to stand his 
 trial; that there is no doubt that he will be convicted if he 
 goes, and that his execution will follow as certainly as soon. 
 You can then pledge yourself to save him to get him out of 
 
G UILTY SCHEMES. 
 
 297 
 
 the camp to place liim safely in the neighboring woods, be 
 yond my reach and my pursuit. She will, no doubt, close with 
 your offer and by this act you will serve me quite as much as 
 the prisoner and herself." 
 
 To this plan Blonay started sundry little objections, for all 
 of which the tory had duly provided himself with overruling 
 answers. The half-breed, simply enough, demanded why 
 Barsfield, proposing, as he did, to render so great a service to 
 the prisoner, should scruple to say to him and to the you )- 
 lady who watched both sufficiently interested to keep his 
 secret what he now so freely said to him ? This was soon 
 answered. 
 
 "They will suspect me of a design to involve the prisoner 
 ia some new difficulty, as they have no reason to suppose me 
 desirous of serving either. I have no motive to befriend him 
 none. But, on the contrary, they know me as his enemy, 
 and believe the worst of me accordingly. You only know why 
 I propose this scheme." 
 
 The half-breed was silenced, though not convinced. Suspi 
 cious by nature and education, he began to conjecture other 
 purposes as prevailing in the mind of his employer; but, for 
 the time, he promised to prepare himself, and to comply with 
 his various requisitions. It was not until he reached the woods 
 and resumed his position against his tree, that the tue policy 
 of the tory captain came out before his mind. 
 
MKM.ICHAMPK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE SUBTLETY OF THE TORY. 
 
 WHAT were the designs of the tory ? " What bloody scene 
 had Roscius now to act?" Could it be that Barsfield was 
 really prompted by a new emotion of generous hostility ? 
 Hid his feelings undergone a change, and did he really feel 
 an honorable desire, and meditate to save his rival Melli- 
 chainpe from an ignominious death, only for the self-satisfying 
 vengeance which he promised to himself from the employment 
 of his own weapon? No: these were not the thoughts, not 
 the purposes, of the malignant tory. 
 
 The half-breed was not deceived by the gracious and strange 
 shaws of new-born benevolence which appeared to prompt him. 
 Had the death of Mellichampe been certain, as the result of his 
 threatened trial, Barsfield would have been content to have 
 obeyed his orders, and to carry the victim to Charleston for 
 trial and execution. But that fate was not certain. He felt 
 assured, too, that it was not even probable. Cornwallis and 
 Tarleton, both, had shed more blood wantonly already than 
 they could well account or atone for to public indignation. 
 The British house of commons already began to declaim upon 
 the wanton and brutal excesses which popular indignation had 
 ascribed to the British commanders in America; and the oili- 
 cers of the southern invading armies now half repented of the 
 crimes which, in the moment of exasperation, they had been 
 tempted to commit upon those who, as they were familiarly 
 styled rebels, seemed consequently to have been excluded 
 hitherto from the consideration due to men. There was a 
 pause in that sanguinary mood which had heretofore stimu 
 lated Cornwallis, Rav don, Tarleton, Balfour, and a dozer. 
 
THE SUBTLETY OF THE TORY. - J 
 
 other petty tyrants of the time and country, to tlic most atro 
 cious offences against justice and humanity. They began to 
 feel, if not the salutary rebukings of conscience, the more 
 obvious suggestions of fear*; for, exasperated to madness by 
 the reckless want of consideration shown to their brethren in 
 arms when becoming captives to the foe, the officers of the 
 southern American forces, banded and scattered, pledged them 
 selves solemnly in writing to retaliate in like manner, man foi 
 man, upon sucli British officers as should fall into their hands; 
 thus voluntarily offering themselves to a liability, the heavy 
 responsibilities of which sufficiently guarantied their sincerity. 
 To the adoption of this course they also required a like pledge 
 from the commander-in-chief ; and General Greene was com 
 pelled to acquiesce in their requisition. The earnest charac 
 ter of these proceedings, known as they were to the enemy, had 
 its effect; and the rebukes of conscience were more respected 
 when coupled with the suggestions of fear. * 
 
 Barsfield knew that the present temper of his superiors was 
 not favorable to the execution of Mellichampe. He also felt 
 that his own testimony against the youth must be unsatisfac 
 tory, if met by that of Mr. Berkeley and his daughter. He 
 dreaded that Mellichampe should reach Charleston, though as 
 a prisoner, and become known in person to any of the existing 
 powers, as he well knew the uncertain tenure by which the 
 possessions were secured which had been allotted to him, in a 
 moment of especial favor, by the capricious generosity of the 
 British commander. Guilt, in this way, for ever anticipates 
 and fears the thousand influences which it raises up against 
 itself; and never ceases to labor in providing against events, 
 which for a long time it may baffle, but which, in the moment 
 of greatest security, must concentrate themselves against all 
 its feeble barriers, and overthrow them with a breath. 
 
 Barsfield had also his personal hostility to gratify, and of 
 this he might be deprived if his prisoner reached the city 
 in safety. His present design was deeply laid, therefore, in 
 order that he might not be defrauded. Janet Berkeley was 
 to be the instrument by which Mellichampe was to be taught 
 to apprehend for his life, as a convicted spy under a military 
 
300 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 sentence. The ignominious nature of such a deom would, he 
 was well aware, prompt the youth to seize upon any and every 
 chance to escape from custody. This opportunity was to be given 
 him, in part. The guards were to be so placed as, at the given 
 moment, to leave the passage from his chamber free. The road 
 was to be cleared for him at a designated point, and this road, 
 under the guidance of Blonay, the youth was to pursue. 
 
 But it was no part of Barsfield s design to suffer his escape. 
 An ambush was to be laid for the reception of the fugitive, and 
 here the escaping prisoner was to be shot down without a question : 
 and, as he was an escaping prisoner, such a fate, Barsfield well 
 knew, might be inflicted with the most perfect impunity. The 
 cruel scheme was closely treasured in his mind, and only such 
 portions of his plan as might seem noble without the rest were 
 permitted to appear to the obtuse sense of the half-breed, who 
 was -destined to perish at the same moment with the prisoner he 
 was employed to set free. 
 
 Long and closely did the two debate together on the particular 
 steps to be taken for carrying the scheme of the tory into execution; 
 and it was arranged that, while he, Barsfield, should, in the prog 
 ress of the same day, apprise Janet of the contemplated removal 
 of Mellichampe to the city for his trial, Blonay should mature his 
 plan for approaching the maiden on a subject in which, to succeed 
 at all, it was necessary that the utmost delicacy of address should 
 be observed. The half-breed was to assume a new character. He 
 was to appear before her with an avowal of sympathy which 
 seemed rather a mockery, coming from one so incapable and low. 
 He was to make a profession of regard for her, and for him 
 whom she regarded, and thus obtain her confidence, without 
 which he could do nothing. Barsfield did not believe it possible 
 for such a creature to feel, and his only fear was that the 
 task would be too novel and too difficult for him to perform 
 decently and with success. But the tory was mistaken in his 
 man. He did not sufficiently dive into the nature of the seem 
 ingly obdurate wretch before him; and he had not the most 
 distant idea of the occult and mysterious causes of sympathy 
 
THE SUBTLKTY OF THE TORY. O 
 
 for the maiden which were at work in the breast of the savage, 
 whom lie loathed even while employing, ami for whom he 
 meditated the same doom of death, at the same time, which 
 his hands were preparing for Mellichampe. 
 
 But Blonay saw through his intentions; and, confident that 
 the plan was designed for the murder of Mellichampe, he 
 suspected, at the same time, the design upon himself. 
 
 " He won t want me after that," he muttered to himself, as 
 soon as he got into the woods; and he chuckled strangely and 
 bitterly as he thought over the affair. Lijjje_w_oods he could 
 think freely, and he soon conceived the entire plan of his 
 employer. He determined accordingly. He was a tactician, 
 and knew how much was to be made out, of the opinion enter 
 tained by Barsfield of his stolidity, lie was an adept at that 
 art which governs men by sometimes adopting, seemingly, 
 their own standards of judgment. 
 
 He went instantly hack to the tory, and, drawing from his 
 purse the sum of five guineas which the other had given while 
 engaging him, he spoke thus, while returning it: 
 
 " I reckon, cappin, you d better git somebody else to do 
 your business for you in this ere matter. I can t. 
 
 "Can t! why?" responded Barsfield, in astonishment. 
 "Well, you see, cappin I ve been thinking over the busi- 
 nesSj and, you see, I can t see it to the bottom. I don t 
 understand it." 
 
 "And what then? Why should you understand it? You 
 have only to do what is told you. I understand it, and that s 
 enough, I imagine." 
 
 "I reckon not, cappin axing your pardon. I never med 
 dles with business I don t understand. If so be you says, Go 
 to the chap s room, and put your knife in him, I ll do that for 
 the money ; but I can t think of the other business. I don t 
 see to the bottom it s all up and down, and quite a confusion 
 to me." 
 
 The proposal to murder Mellichampe off-hand for the five 
 guineas would have been accepted instantly, were it the policy 
 of Barsfield to have it done after that fashion: but he dared 
 not clone with the tempting offer. The willingness of Blonay, 
 
302 MKLLIOHAMl K. 
 
 however, to commit the act, had the effect upon Barsfield s 
 mind which the half-breed desired. It induced a degree of 
 confidence in him which the tory was previously disposed to 
 withhold. He now sought to test his agent a little more 
 closely. 
 
 "And you will go now to his room and put him to death for 
 the same money ?" 
 
 " Say the word, cappin," was the ready response, uttered 
 with the composure of one whose mind is made up to the per 
 formance of the deed. The tory paused he dared not comply. 
 
 " And why not help in getting him clear? Where s the dif 
 ference 1 ?" 
 
 " Cause I can t see what you want to clear him for, when 
 you want to kill him, and when you knows he s guine to be 
 hung. I can t see." 
 
 "Never mind: it is my desire is not that enough? I 
 choose it it is my notion. I will pay you for my notion. 
 Do what I have said herft are five guineas more. Go to Miss 
 Berkeley, and tell her what I have taught you." 
 
 The half-breed hesitated, or seemed to hesitate. The bright 
 gold glittered in his eye, and he was not accustomed to with 
 stand temptation. His habit almost overcame his reflection, 
 and the determined conviction of his mind j but he resisted the 
 suggestion and adhered to his resolve. 
 
 " I d rather not, cappin ; I reckon I can t. If you says now 
 that you wants to kill him, I ll help you, cause then I under 
 stands you ; but to git him out, and let him run free, jist when 
 there s no need for it, and when you hates him all over, is too 
 strange to me I can t see to the bottom." 
 
 "And you will not do as you have said?" demanded the 
 other, with some vexation in his tone and countenance. 
 
 " Well, now, cappin, why not speak out the plain thing as 
 it is," said the half-breed, boldly; "don t I see how tis? 
 When you gits him out, you ll put it to him that s what J 
 understands. If it s so, say so, and I ll go the death for you 
 but I aVt guine to sarve a man that won t let me know the 
 business I m guine upon. Let im>. sec* your hand, and I ll sr.y 
 if I back you." 
 
THE SUBTLETY OF THK TORY. 303 
 
 This was bringing the matter home, and Barsfield at once 
 saw that there was no hope for the aid of the half-breed but in 
 full confidence. He .made a merit of necessity. 
 
 "I have only sought to try you. I wished to know how far 
 you were willing and sagdcious enough to serve me. I am sat 
 isfied. You are right. The boy shall not escape me, though 
 I let him run. You hear me can I now depend on you?" 
 
 " It s a bargain, cappin," and the savage received the guineas, 
 which were soon put out of sight, "it s a bargain: say how. 
 when, and where, and there s no more fuss." 
 
 They closed hands upon the contract, and Barsfield now 
 unfolded his designs with more confidence. It was arranged 
 that Blonay should carry out the original plan, so far as to 
 communicating with Janet. Her acquiescence following, Mel- 
 lichampe was to be led, at a particular hour, on a specified 
 night, through a path in which the myrmidons of the tory were 
 to stand prepared; and nothing now remained so Barsfield 
 thought in the way of his successful effort at revenge, but, to 
 obtain the ministry of the devoted maiden in promoting the 
 scheme which was to terminate in the murder of her lover. 
 
 Barsfield, in the part prosecution of his design, that very 
 evening sought a private conference with Janet Berkeley 
 which was not denied him. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Rose Duncan, as she heard of the ap 
 plication and of her cousin s compliance, " what ! you consent 
 you will see him alone ? Surely, Janet, you will not?" 
 
 "Why not, Rose?" was the quiet answer. 
 
 " Why not ! and you hate him so, Janet?" 
 
 "You mistake me, Rose. I fear Mr. Barsfield I dread 
 what he may do; but, believe me, I do not hate him. I 
 should not fear him even, did I not know that he hates those 
 whom I love." 
 
 "But, whether you hate or fear, why should you see him ? 
 What can he seek you for but to make his sickening protest a 
 tions and professions over and over again ? and I don t see- 
 that civility requires that you should hear him over and over 
 again, upon such a subject, whenever he takes it into his head 
 to address you." 
 
304 MKLLICHAMPK. 
 
 "It will be lime enough to dei laiv my aversion, Rose, wlien 
 I know that such is his subject. To .anticipate now would be 
 not only premature, but in very doubtful propriety, and surely 
 in a taste somewhat indelicate. Such, indeed, can scarcely 
 be the subject on which he would speak with me, for I have 
 already answered him so decisively that he must know it to 
 be idle." 
 
 "Ah, but these men never take an answer: they are perti 
 nacious to the last degree ; and they all assume, with a mon 
 strous self-complaisance, that a woman does not mean no 
 when she says it. Be assured Barsfield will have little else to 
 say. His speech will be all about hearts and darts, and hopes 
 and fears, and all such silly stuff as your sentimentalists deal 
 in. He will tell you about Kaddipah, and promise to make 
 you its queen, and you will tire to death of the struggles of 
 the great bear in an element so foreign to his nature as that 
 of love." 
 
 And, while she spoke, the lively girl put herself in posture, 
 and adopted the grin and the grimace, the desperate action 
 and affected enthusiasm, which might be supposed to belong 
 to the address of Barsfield in the part of a lover. Janet smiled 
 sorrowfully as she replied 
 
 " Ah, Rose, I would the matter upon which Barsfield seeks 
 me were not more serious than your thoughts assume it to be 
 But I can not think with you. I am troubled with a presenti 
 ment of evil ; I fear me that some new mischief is designed." 
 
 " Ob, you are always anticipating evil ; you are always on 
 the look-out for clouds and storm." 
 
 " I do not shrink from them, Rose, when they corns," said 
 ihe other, gently. 
 
 " No, no ! you are brave enough : would I were half so 
 valiant, sweet cousin of mine! But, Janet, if you dread that 
 Barsfield has some new mischief afoot, that is another reason 
 why you should not see him. Be advised, dear Janet, and do 
 not go." 
 
 " I mustv Rose, and I will, for that very reason. I will look 
 the danger in the face ; I will not blind myself to its coming. 
 No! let the bolt be shot let the wo come let thf worst 
 
THE SUBTLETY OF THE TORY. 305 
 
 happen, rather than that I should for ever dream, and for ever 
 dread, the worst. Suffering is one part of life it may be tho 
 greatest part of mine. I must not shrink from what I way 
 designed to meet ; and God give me strength to meet it as I 
 should, and cheer me to bear up against it with a calm forti 
 tude. I feel that this man is the bringer of evil tidings : I am 
 impressed with a fear which almost persuades me to refuse 
 him this meeting. But, as I know this feeling to be a fear, 
 and at variance with my duty to myself not less than to Melli- 
 champe, I will not refuse him, I will go ; I will hear what he 
 would say." 
 
 And here I must remain, stuck up like a painted image, to 
 listen to Lieutenant Clayton s rose-water compliments. The 
 man is so band boxy, so excruciatingly tidy and trim in every 
 thing he says, so measured and musical, and laughs with such 
 continual desperation, that he sickens me to death to enter 
 tain him." 
 
 " Yet you do entertain him, Rose." 
 
 "How can I help it? You will not; and the man looks as 
 if he came for an entertainment." 
 
 "And you never disappoint him, Rose." 
 
 " Twould be too cruel, that, Janet; for you neither look 
 nor say anything toward it. You might as well be the old 
 Dutch Venus, stuck up in the corner, whose fat cheeks and 
 small eyes used to give your grandfather such an extensive 
 subject for eulogy. You leave all the task of keeping up the 
 racket, and should not wonder if I seek, as well as in me lies, 
 to maintain your guests in good humor with themselves, at 
 least." 
 
 "And with you. You certainly succeed, Rose, in both ob 
 jects. Task or not, you are not displeased with the labor of 
 entertaining Lieutenant Clayton, if I judge not very erro 
 neously of your eyes and features generally. And then your 
 laugh, too, Rose don t speak of the lieutenant s your laugh 
 is, of all laughs, the most truly natural when you hearken to 
 his good sayings." 
 
 "Janet, you are getting to be quite censorious. I am 
 shocked at you. Really, you ought to know, that to entertain 
 
306 MKLLICIIAMl K. 
 
 a body, if you set out with that intention, you a. e not to allow 
 it to be seen that you are making an effort. To please others, 
 the first rule is always to seem pleased yourself." 
 
 " True ; you not only seem pleased yourself, but, Rose, do 
 you know I really think you are so ? You laugh as " 
 
 "Pshaw! Janet pshaw! I laugh at the man, and not 
 wit 1 - him." 
 
 " I fear me, now I think of it, Rose, that he has discovered 
 that. Methinks he laughs much less of late than over : ho 
 looks very serious at times." 
 
 " I)o you really think so, Janet?" 
 
 " 1 do, really." 
 
 " What can be the cause, I wonder 1" 
 
 " Perhaps he has been ordered to join Cornwallis. He 
 npoke of some such matter, you remember, but a week ago." 
 
 " Yes, I remember ; and at the time, if you recollect, Janet, 
 he looked rather grave while stating it, though he laughed 
 afterward ; and yet the laugh did not seem altogether so 
 natural : there was something exceedingly constrained and 
 artificial in it." 
 
 " It must be so," replied Janet, as it were abstractedly. 
 The momentary humor which had prompted her to annoy her 
 thoughtless companion had passed away, in the sterner consid 
 eration which belonged to her own difficulties. She turned 
 away to a neighboring window, and looked forth upon the 
 grove, and a little beyond, where, on the edge of the forest, 
 lay the encampment of Barsfield, a glance at which involun 
 tarily drove her away from the window. When her eyes were 
 again turned upon Rose Duncan, she saw that the usually 
 light-hearted girl was still seated, in unwonted silence, with 
 her face buried in her hands. The whole air of the damsel 
 was full of unusual thought and abstraction, and Janet might 
 have seen that a change had come over the spirit of her dream 
 also, but that her fancy was saddened by the strong and 
 besetting fears which promised her a new form of trial in the 
 meeting with the tory. 
 
PICTURE OF LYNCH-LAW. 3. 7 
 
 CHAPTER XX XVIl. 
 
 PICTURE OF LYNCH-LAW. 
 
 THAT evening, as she had promised, Janet Berkeley in 
 dulged Captain Barsfield with the interview which he desired ; 
 and while Rose Duncan was left to the task, pleasant or other 
 wise, of entertaining the sentimental yet laughter-loving lieu 
 tenant, the graver maiden, in an adjoining apartment, was 
 held to the severer trial of maintaining the uniform complai 
 sance of the lady and the courteous consideration of the hostess, 
 while listening to one whose every movement she distrusted, 
 and whose whole bearing toward her and hers had been posi 
 tively injurious, if not always hostile. Barsfield, too, though 
 moved by contradictory feelings, was compelled to subject 
 them all beneath the easy deportment and conciliatory de 
 meanor of a gentleman in the presence of one of the other sex. 
 He .rose to meet her upon her entrance, and conducted her to 
 a chair. A few moments elapsed before he spoke, and his 
 words were then brought forth Avith the difficulty of one who is 
 somewhat at a loss where to begin. At length, as if ashamed 
 of his weakness, he commenced without preliminaries upon 
 the immediate subject which had prompted the desire for the 
 interview. 
 
 "My surgeon tells me, Miss Berkeley, that his patient 
 yours, I should rather say Mr. Mellichampe, will soon be 
 able to undergo removal." 
 
 "Removal, sir!" was the momentary exclamation of Janet, 
 with a show of pain, not less than of surprise, in her ingenuous 
 countenance. 
 
 "My orders are to remove him to the city, as soon as the 
 eurgeon shall pronounce him in a fit condition to bear with the 
 
308 MELL1CIIAMPK. 
 
 fatigue. He tells me that such will soon be the case. Mr 
 Mellichampe now walks his chamber, I understand, and is in 
 every respect, rapidly recovering from his hurts." 
 
 " He is certainly better than he was, Captain Barsfield ; but 
 he is yet very, very feeble too feeble quite to bear with the 
 fatigues of such a journey." 
 
 " You underrate the strength of the young gentleman, Mis.s 
 Berkeley. He is a well-knit, hardy soldier for one so youth 
 ful, and will suffer less than you imagine. I trust that my 
 surgeon does not report incorrectly, when he states that in all 
 probability it will be quite safe to remove him at the com 
 mencement of the ensuing week." 
 
 " So soon !" was the unaffected, the almost unconscious 
 exclamation. 
 
 " It is painful to me to deprive you, Miss Berkeley, of any 
 pleasure of one, too, the loss of which, even in anticipation, 
 seems to convey so much anxiety and sorrow; but the duties 
 of the soldier are imperative." 
 
 " 1 would not wish, sir, to interfere with yours, whatever my 
 own wishes may be, Captain Barsfield," replied the maiden, 
 with a degree of dignity which seemed provoked into loftiness 
 by the air of sarcasm pervading the previous speech of the 
 tory. 
 
 " It is for you, sir," she continued, " to do your duty, if you 
 so esteem it, without reference to the weaknesses of a woman, 
 and, least of all, of mine." 
 
 " You mistake, Miss Berkeley you mistake your own 
 worth, not less than my feelings and present objects. Yoiu : 
 weaknesses, if it so pleases you to call them, are sacred in my 
 sight; and, though my duty as a soldier prompts me to take 
 the course with the prisoner which I have already made 
 known to you, such is my regard to your wishes, and for you, 
 that I am not unwilling, in some particulars, to depart from 
 that course with the desire to oblige you." 
 
 The maiden looked up inquiringly. 
 
 "How am I to understand this, Captain Barsfield ?* 
 
 " Oh, Miss Berkeley, there needs no long explanation. If 
 Mellichampe has loved yon, yon have been no less beloved by 
 
PICTDRK OF LYIs CIl-r.AW. 309 
 
 me. I can not now deceive myself on the subject of your re 
 gards. I am not so self-blinded as to mistake your feelings 
 for him." 
 
 "Nor I to deny them, Mr. Barsfield. There was a time, sir, 
 when I should have shrunk, as from death, from such an avowal 
 as this. It is now my pride, my boast now that he is desert 
 ed by friends, and in the hands of enemies " 
 
 " In your hands, Miss Berkeley," he said, interrupting her. 
 
 " How, sir ?" 
 
 " In no other hands than yours. Let me show you this. 
 He is not in the hands of enemies, only as you so decree it." 
 
 " Proceed, sir, proceed," she said, impatiently, seeing that 
 he paused in his utterance. 
 
 "A few words from you, Miss Berkeley, and, such is your 
 power over me, such my regard for you, that, though Melli- 
 champe be my deadly enemy one who has sought my life, 
 and one whose life my own sense of self-preservation prompts 
 me with like perseverance equally to seek, I am yet willing, 
 in the face of my pledges, my interest, my duty, to connive at 
 his release from this most unpleasant custody. I am willing 
 to place the key of his prison-door in your hands, and to give 
 the signal myself when he shall fly in safety." 
 
 " You speak fairly, sir, very fairly, very nobly, indeed, if 
 you have spoken all that you design, all that you mean. But 
 is it your regard for me alone that prompts these sentiments 
 are there no conditions which you deem of value to your 
 self? Let me hear all all that you have in reserve, Captain 
 Barsfield, for you will pardon me if, hitherto, I have not es 
 teemed you one to forfeit your pledges, your interests, your 
 duty, to serve, without conditions, a poor maiden like myself." 
 
 The cheek of the tory grew to a deep crimson as he spoke, 
 and his words were crowded and uttered chokingly when he 
 replied: 
 
 " I am not now to fcarn for the first time, that, influenced 
 as she has been by the speech of others, unfriendly and ma 
 lignant, the opinions of Miss Berkeley have done me at all 
 times less than justice. The words of old Max Mellichampe, 
 the father of this boy, were thus hostile ever: and they have 
 
S10 MKLUCIIAMPK. 
 
 not been poured into unwilling ears, Laving you for an auditor, 
 Miss Berkeley. And yet 1 Lad tliouglit tLat one so gentle as 
 yourself would Lave shrunk from the language of hatred and 
 denunciation, and been tlie last so keenly to treasure up its 
 remembrance.* 
 
 " Can Captain Barsfield wonder that I should remember the 
 opinions of Colonel Mellichampe with reference to himself, 
 when after-circumstances Lave so completely confirmed their 
 justice? Is not Captain Barsfield an active and bloody enemy 
 to the people of his own land fighting against them under 
 the banner of the invader and proving himself most bloody 
 and hostile to those with whom he once dwelt, and by whose 
 indulgence, as I have heard, his own infancy was nurtured ? 
 Can I forget, too, that by his own hands the brave old colonel 
 perished in a most unequal fight?" 
 
 "But still a fair one, Miss Berkeley still a fair fight, and 
 one of his own seeking. But what you Lave just said, Miss 
 Berkeley, gives me a good occasion to set you right on some 
 matters, arid to unfold to you the truth in all. The taking 
 arms under tLe ilag of England, which you style that of the 
 invader, and the death of Colonel Max MeVlichampe, form but 
 a single page of tLe same drama. They are as closely related, 
 Miss Berkeley, as cause and effect, since it was Max Melli 
 champe that made me why should I blush to say i* 1 a tory, 
 in arms against my countrymen : and to that enrolment 
 fatal enrolment ! for even now I curse the day on which it was 
 recorded, and him no less that moved it he owes, and justly 
 owes, his own defeat and death." 
 
 " I believe it not, sir. Colonel Mellichampe move you to 
 become a tory to lift the sword against your people ? Never 
 never !" 
 
 " Hear me out, and you will believe you can not else. He 
 did not move me did not argue with me to become a tory, 
 oh, no ! He forced me to become one. Would you hear ?" 
 
 " Speak on." 
 
 "When this cruel and unnatural war commenced in South 
 Carolina, I had taken no part on either side. Tlie violence 
 of the whigs around me, Colonel Mellichampe among them. 
 
PICTURE OF LYNC1I-LAW. 311 
 
 Kud the most active among them, toward all those not think 
 ing with themselves, revolted my feelings and my pride, if it 
 tiid not offend my principles. I was indignant that, while in 
 sisting upon all the rights of free judgment for themselves, 
 they should at the same* time deny a like liberty to ethers. 
 And yet they raved constantly of liberty. It was, in their 
 mouths, a perpetual word, and with them it signified everything 
 ,-iiid nothing. It was to give them a free charter for any and 
 every practice, and it was to deprive all others of every right, 
 natural and acquired. I dared to disagree I dared to think 
 differently, and to speak my opinions aloud, though I lifted no 
 weapon, as yet, to sustain them. Was I then a criminal, Miss 
 Berkeley ? Was it toryism to think according to my under 
 standing, and to speak the opinions which I honestly enter 
 tained ? Do me justice and say, so far I had transgressed no 
 law, either of morals or of the land." 
 
 Do not appeal to me, Captain Barsfield ; I am but a poor 
 judge of such matters." 
 
 " If you have not judged, Miss Berkeley, you, at least, have 
 sentenced upon the authority of others ; and it is your sentence, 
 and their authority, that I seek now to overthrow." 
 
 " Go on, sir ; I would not do you injustice, and I would re 
 joice to think that you could relieve yourself from the unfa 
 vorable opinions even of one so humble as myself. But I fear 
 me you will fail, sir." 
 
 " I hope not, at least, Miss Berkeley ; and the fear that you 
 have uttered encourages and strengthens my hope. I now 
 proceed with my narrative. I had, as I have told you, my 
 own opinions, and this was presumption in the eyes of a dicta 
 torial, proud man, like Max Mellichampe. I uttered them, and 
 loudly 1 KJ, and this was the error of one so weak, so wanting 
 in publ<* influence and wealth as myself. Would you hear 
 how tin * asonsirous error was punished ? this part of the story, 
 perhaps .% never reached your ears." 
 
 " Pui **a, sir!" replied the maiden, with some show of as- 
 tonishm ** m ner countenance, "what punishment? I had 
 not hea * any punishment." 
 
 " I tt **eni not, the punishment was too light too trivial 
 
312 MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 too utterly disproportioned to the offence, to make a part ol 
 the narrative. But I was punished, Miss Berkeley, and, for a 
 crime so monstrous as that of thinking differently from my 
 neighbor, even you will doubtlessly conceive the penalty a 
 slight one." 
 
 He paused; bitter emotions seemed to gather in his bosom 
 and he turned away hastily, and strode to the opposite end of 
 the room. In another moment he returned. 
 
 "You have heard of my offence you should know how it 
 was dealt with riot by strangers, not by enemies but by 
 those with whom I had lived by whose indulgence I had 
 been nurtured. Would you hear, Miss Berkeley ?" 
 
 " Go on, sir." 
 
 "Hear me then. My neighbors came to me at midnight 
 not as neighbors, but armed, and painted, and howling at 
 midnight. They broke into my dwelling a small exercise 
 of their newly-gotten liberty ; they tore me from the bed where 
 I was sleeping ; they dragged me into the highway, amid a 
 crowd of my brethren my countrymen all cheering, and 
 most of them assisting in the work of punishment." 
 
 They surely did not this V was her exclamation. 
 
 " They surely did ! but this was not all. An offence so hor 
 rible as mine, free thinking ii a free country, was yet to have 
 its punishment. What wab that punishment, do you think, 
 Miss Berkeley 1" 
 
 His eyes glared upon her with a ghastly stare as he put this 
 question, from which her own shrank involuntarily as she i eplicd, 
 
 " I can not think I know not." 
 
 " They bound me to a tree fast immovable. I could 
 only see their proceedings, I could only endure their tortures 
 I could stir neither hand not foot to resist them " 
 
 He shivered, as with a convulsion, while recalling these 
 memories, though the sympathizing and pitying expression of 
 her face brought, a moment after, a smile into his own. He 
 continued 
 
 " There, bound hand and foot, a victim, at their mercy, and 
 hopeless of any plea, and incapable of any effort to avoid 
 their judgment, I bore its tortures. You will ask, what more ?" 
 
PICTUBE OF LYNCH-LAW. 313 
 
 He paused, but she spoke not, and lie went on almost in 
 stantly, 
 
 " The lash, the scourge, rods from the neighboring woods 
 were brought, and I suffered until I fainted under their 
 blows." 
 
 She clasped her hands, and closed her eyes, as if the horri 
 ble spectacle were before her. 
 
 " I came to life to suffer new tortures. They poured the 
 seething tar over me " 
 
 " Horrible ! horrible !" 
 
 " Then, hurrying me to the neighboring river, your own 
 Santee, they plunged me into its bosom, and more than once, 
 more merciful than the waters, which did not ingulf me, they 
 thrust me back into their depths, when with feeble struggles I 
 had gained the banks. I was saved by one, one more tender 
 than the rest, and left at midnight, exhausted, by the river s 
 side, despairing of life and imploring death, which yet came 
 not to my relief." 
 
 " Dreadful, dreadful !" exclaimed the maiden, with emotions 
 of uncontrolled horror, while her ghastly cheeks and streaming 
 eyes attested the deep pain which the cruel narrative had im 
 parted to her soul. 
 
 Quivering in every limb with the agonizing recollection 
 which his own horrible narrative had awakened in his mind, 
 Barsfield strode the floor to and fro, his hands clinched in his 
 hair, and his eyes almost starting from their sockets. 
 
 In another moment Janet, recovering herself, with something 
 of desperation in her manner, hurried and breathless, thus ad 
 dressed him 
 
 " But the father of Ernest Mellichampe, he was not one of 
 these men ? he had no part in this dreadful crime ? You have 
 not said that, Mr. Barsfield ? 
 
 " No !" was his bitter and almost fierce exclamation. 
 
 "Thank God! thank God!" she exclaimed, breathlessly. 
 He rapidly crossed the floor, he approached her, and his finger 
 rested upon her arm 
 
 " Stay !" he exclaimed, " be not too fast. The father of 
 your of Ernest Mellichampe, did, indeed, lift no hand he 
 
MELLIOHAMI E. 
 
 was not even present on the occasion, but lie \vao hot the less 
 guilty, the deed was not the less executed by him." 
 "How ! speak !" 
 
 " He was the most guilty. The mere instruments of the 
 crime the miserable, and howling, and servile wretches, who 
 would have maimed and mangled a creature formed in their 
 own, not less than in the image of God, were not the criminals ; 
 but he who set them on, he whose daily language was that of 
 malignant scorn and hostility, he was its author, he was the 
 doer of the deed, and to him I looked for vengeance." 
 
 But how know you that he set them on ? Did you hear ?" 
 " Oh, Miss Berkeley, I say not that he told them, Go, now, 
 and do this deed ; I know not that he did ; but had not Max 
 Mellichampe pronounced me deserving of Lynching, had he 
 not said that I was a tory, and that tar and feathers were the 
 proper desert of the tory, had he not approved of those tor 
 tures, and of others which degrade humanity, the torture of 
 the rail, the suffocation of the horse-pond, would these 
 wretches, think you, who take their colo/ and their thoughts 
 always from the superior, would they have been prompted, by 
 their own thoughts, to such a crime ? No ! they were prompted 
 by him. He approved the deed, he smiled upon its atrocities, 
 and he perished in consequence. Hence my hate to him and 
 his, and it is the hatred of justice which pursues even to the 
 third and fourth generations; for crimes and their penalties, 
 like diseases, are entailed to son and to son s son, all guilty, 
 and all doomed, alike. Hence it is, that I am a tory. Hence 
 it is, that I lift the sword, unsparingly to the last, against the 
 wretches who taught me in that night of terror, of blistering 
 agony, of manhood s shame, and a suffering worse infinitely 
 than death, of what nature was that boon of liberty which 
 they promised, and which it was in the power of such monsters 
 to bestow. Can you wonder now, Miss Berkeley, not that I am 
 what I am, but that I am not worse ? You can not. I were 
 either more or less than human to be other than I am. Whe 
 ther these things may excuse my conduct, I do not now ask ; 
 all that I may claim from you is, that you will, at least, spara 
 your sarcasms in future upon what you are pleased to call the 
 unnatural warfare which I wae-o aara iri t my countrymen." 
 
UNPROFITABLE INTERVIEW. 315 
 
 (( UNIVERSITY | 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 UNPROFITABLE INTERVIEW. 
 
 THE maiden was indeed silenced. If she did not sympa 
 tliize entirely with Barsfield, she at least saw what a natural 
 course had been his, under the dreadful indignities which he 
 had been made to suffer. She now looked on him with a feel 
 ing of pain and mortification as he paced the apartment to and 
 fro; and her eyes more than once filled with tears, as she 
 thought how far guilty in this transaction had been the father 
 of her lover. At length the tory captain turned to her once 
 more. His countenance had recovered something of its seren 
 ity, though the cheek was yet unusually flushed, and when he 
 spoke there was a convulsive unevenness in his accent, Avhich 
 denoted the yet unsubdued emotions of his heart. Still, with 
 a moral power which he certainly possessed, however erringly 
 applied, he subdued the feverish impulse ; and, after the pause 
 of a few moments, which the excited and wounded feelings of 
 Janet did not suffer her to interrupt, he proceeded to a more 
 full development of his purpose and his desire. 
 
 I have said to you, Miss Berkeley, that I am commanded, 
 so soon as the condition of my prisoner will permit, to convey 
 him to the city. Are you aware with what purpose? have you 
 any notion of his probable destiny ? * 
 
 The manner of the question alarmed the maiden much more 
 than the question itself. It was grave and mysteriously em 
 phatic. His face wore all the expression of one conscious of 
 the possession of a secret, the utterance of which is to produce 
 the most trying emotions in the hearer, and which the posses 
 sor, at the same time, however, does not yet dare to with 
 hold. Janet was silent for a few seconds while gazing intv 
 the countenance of the speaker, as if seeking to gather from 
 
316 MKLLICIIAMPE. 
 
 his glance what she yet trembled to demand from his lips 
 but remembering the solemn decision of her thoughts when 
 she granted the interview, to seek to know the worst that her 
 enemy could inflict, she recovered and controlled her energies. 
 With a firm voice, therefore, unfaltering in a single accent, she 
 requested him to proceed. 
 
 "I am not strong not wise, Captain Barsfield, and I am 
 not able to say what my thoughts are now, or what my feelings 
 may be when I hear what you have to rmfi.ld, But God, I 
 trust, will give me strength to endure well, if I may not achieve 
 much. Your looks and manner, more than your words, would 
 seem to imply something which is dangerous to me and mine. 
 Speak it out boldly, Captain Barsfield better to hear the 
 worst than to imagine error, and find worse in wrong imagi 
 nings. I am willing to hear all that you would say, and I beg 
 that you would say it freely, without hesitation." 
 
 "I am glad that you are thus strong thus prepared, Miss 
 Berkeley; for it pains me to think how deeply must be your 
 sorrow and suffering when you learn the truth." 
 
 He paused, and with a hypocritical expression of sympa 
 thetic wo in his countenance, approached her when he had 
 done speaking. His hand was even extended with a con 
 doling manner, as if to possess itself of hers; but she drew 
 herself up reservedly in her chair, and he halted before her. 
 Her words promptly followed the action 
 
 "I am neither strong to endure much, nor prepared to hear 
 any particular cause of sorrow, as I can think of none in par 
 ticular. Speak it, however, Captain Barsfield, since, whether 
 strong or prepared, I am at least desirous to know all which 
 may concern my feelings in the matter which you have tc 
 communicate." 
 
 " You will think me precipitate in my communication when 
 you have heard it; and that you have not thought of it hith 
 erto, leads me to apprehend that you will even feel it more 
 forcibly than I had imagined. I deem it doubly important, 
 then, to bid you prepare for a serious evil." 
 
 These preparatory suggestions, as they were designed to do, 
 necessarily stimulated still further the anxieties and appre- 
 
UNI KOFtTA BLE INTERVIEW. 
 
 31 
 
 licnsions of the hearer, tliougli she strove nobly, and well suc 
 ceeded, in mastering her emotions. 
 
 "Speak speak I pray you, sir," she cried, almost breath- 
 
 Idss. 
 
 "Do you know, then, Miss Berkeley, with what object I am 
 required to convey Mr. Mellicharnpe to the city ?" 
 
 "No, sir object what object none in particular. lie 
 is your prisoner you convey him to prison/ was the hurried 
 
 reply. 
 
 "I J I carry him to prison, indeed but I also carry 
 
 him to trial." 
 
 "To trial!" 
 
 " To trial as a spy." 
 
 " A spy ! and what then ?" 
 
 " He will be convicted." 
 
 "Impossible! he is no spy who will dare to utter such a 
 falsehood ?" 
 
 "I will dare to utter such a truth. I will accuse I have 
 accused him. I will prove my accusation; and you, Mis? 
 Berkeley, can assist me in establishing the proof. I could rest 
 the entire proof upon your testimony." 
 
 "Never never! God help me, what audacity is this ! I 
 scorn your assertion I despise I fear nothing of your 
 threats. I know better, and am not to be terrified by a tale 
 so idle as this." 
 
 "It is no idle tale, Miss Berkeley, and you are terrified, a* 
 you must feel conscious of its truth. You know it to be true." 
 
 " I knoAv it to bo false ! false as Heaven forgive me, but 
 this insolence also makes me mad. But I have done now, and 
 you too, sir, have done, I trust. I am not to be frightened by 
 such stories as these; for, know, sir, that when this strange 
 tale was uttered by you before, I had the assurance of Colonel 
 Tarleton your superior, sir that there was nothing in it, 
 and that I must not suffer myself to be alarmed. Colonel 
 Tarleton s words, sir, I remembered he would not give them 
 idly, and I believe in him. He will be there to see justice 
 done to Mellichampe, and with his pledge, sir, I defy your 
 malice. I, too, will go to the city though I tread every step 
 
318 MKLLICIIAMI K. 
 
 of the way on foot I will see Colonel Tarletoii, and lie will 
 protect the man whom you hate but whom you dare not 
 fairly encounter from your dishonorable malice." 
 
 " That I dare meet him, Miss Berkeley, his present situation 
 attests it was by my arm that he was stricken down in fair 
 conflict" 
 
 "I believe it not you dared not. Your myrmidons beset 
 him, while you looked on. It was many to one : but of this 1 
 think not. It is enough tha 4 . I am required to speak with one, 
 and to look upon one, who has sought to destroy him, and me 
 in him. It is enough I would hear no more. I believe not in 
 this trial Colonel Tarleton will not suffer it, and I will go to 
 him. He will see justice." 
 
 "He will," said Barsfield, coolly, in reply to the passionate 
 and unlooked-for vehemence of the maiden so unlike her 
 usual calm gravity of deportment. 
 
 "Colonel Tarleton will do justice, Miss Berkeley it is my 
 hope that lie will do so. I have his words for it, indeed, and 
 it. is from him the orders come which call for the trial of the 
 prisoner." 
 
 "The orders Colonel Tarleton!" were the simple excla 
 mations of the maiden, as she listened to the assertion. Bars- 
 field calmly drew the paper from his pocket, and placed it in 
 her hands. As she read, the letters swam before her eyes: 
 and, when she had finished, the document fell from her nerve 
 less fingers, and she stood like a dumb imbodiment of wo, 
 gazing with utter vacancy upon her companion. They were 
 the orders, plainly and unequivocally written by Tarleton, as 
 Barsfield had said. Not a word wanting not a sentence 
 doubtful in its import. Tarleton, who had promised her that 
 her lover was secure, or had led her, by his language and 
 general manner, to believe so, had commanded his trial. Re- 
 jailing all her energies, with eyes that never once were 
 removed from the countenance of Barsfield, she again took the 
 paper from his hands, as he was lifting ii fr >n> the floor, and 
 once more read it carefully over counting the word;: almosr 
 epeMing them in the hope to find some little evasion of the 
 first meaning some loop-hole for escape some solitary 
 
UNPROFITABLE INTERVIEW 319 
 
 bough upon which a fond hope might perch and reot itself, 
 But in vain. The letter was a stern and business-like one. 
 
 "You muat convey the prisoner, Mellicliampe," so ran that 
 portion of it which concerned tli3 maiden, "so soon as his 
 wounds will permit, under* a strong guard, to the city, where a 
 court of officers will be designated for his trial as a spy upon 
 your encampment. You will spare no effort to secure all the 
 evidence necessary to his conviction, and will yourself attend 
 to the preferment of the charges." And there, after the details 
 of other matters and duties to be attended to and executed, 
 was the signature of the bloody dragoon, which she more than 
 
 once had seen before 
 
 " B. TARLETON, 
 
 " Lt. Col. Legion. " 
 
 She closed her eyes, gave back the paper, and clasped her 
 hands in prayer to Heaven, as the last reliance of earth seemed 
 to be taken away. She had so confidently rested upon the 
 personal assurances of Tarlcton, that she had almost dismissed 
 entirely from her thought the charge in question; and which 
 Barsfield had originally made when the legionary colonel was 
 at " Piney Grove." Now, when she read these orders, she 
 wondered at herself for so implicitly confiding in the assu 
 rances of one so habitually distrusted by the Americans, and 
 so notoriously fond of bloodshed. Yet, why had he deemed it 
 necessary to give these assurances to a poor maiden one 
 not a party to the war, and to whom he could have no cause 
 of hostility. Why practise thus upon an innocent heart and 
 a young affection 1 Could he be so wanton so merciless 
 so fond of all forms of cruelty ? These thoughts, these doubts, 
 all filled the brain of the maiden, confusedly and actively, 
 during the brief moments in which she stood silently in the 
 presence of Barsfield, after having possessed herself of the 
 orders with regard to Mellichampe. Her fears had almost 
 stupefied her, and it was only the voice of the tory which 
 seemed to arouse her to a full consciousness, not less of the 
 predicament in which her lover stood, than of the presence ol 
 his enemy. She raised her eyes, and, without a word, listened 
 anew to the suggestions of Barsfield, who speaking, as he 
 
320 MKLLTCttAMPR. 
 
 did, ungrateful and unpleasant tilings had assumed his most 
 pleasant tones, and put on a deportment the most courteous 
 and respectful. 
 
 "You doubt not now, Miss Berkeley? the facts are un 
 questionable. These are direct and positive orders, and must 
 be obeyed. In a few days Mr. Mellichainpe must be conveyed 
 to the city ; his trial must immediately follow, and I need not 
 say how immediately thereupon must follow his conviction 
 and" 
 
 " Say no more say no more," shrieked, rather than spoke, 
 his auditor. 
 
 " And yet, Miss Berkeley " 
 
 "Yet what?" she demanded, hurriedly. 
 
 " These dangers may be averted. The youth may be 
 saved." 
 
 She looked up doubtingly, and, as she saw the expression in 
 his eyes, she shook her head in despair. She read at a 
 glance the conditions. 
 
 " I see you understand me, Miss Berkeley." 
 
 " I can not deny that I think I do, sir," was her prompt 
 reply. 
 
 "And yet, as you may not, better that I speak my thoughts 
 plainly. I can save Mr. Mellichampe I am ready to do so; 
 for, though my enemy, I feel that I love another far more 
 than I can possibly hate him. I will save him for that other. 
 Does Miss Berkeley hear? will she heed ?" 
 
 Barsfield might well ask these questions, for the thoughts of 
 Janet were evidently elsewhere. His finger rested upon her 
 hand, and she started as from a sudden danger. There was a 
 bitter smile upon the lips of the tory, as he noticed the shud 
 dering emotion with which she withdrew her hand. Her 
 attention, however, seeming now secured, he continued his 
 suggestions. 
 
 "I will save the life of the prisoner he shall be free as 
 air, Miss Berkeley, if, in return, you will " 
 
 " Oh, Captain Barsfield, this is all very idle, and not less 
 painful than idle. You know it can not be. You know me 
 not if yon can think it for a moment longer. It is impossible. 
 
UNPROFITABLK INTERVIEW. 321 
 
 sir, that I can survive Mellicliampo; still more impossible that 
 I can survive his love, or give my own to another. Leave me 
 now, sir, I pray you. Leave me now. We can speak no 
 more together. You can have nothing further to say, as you 
 can have nothing worse to communicate." 
 
 "But, Miss Berkeley " 
 
 He would have spoken, but she waved her hand impatiently. 
 He saw at a glance how idle would be all further effort, and 
 the murderous nature within- him grew active with this convic 
 tion. His hate to Mellichampe was now shared equally be 
 tween him and his betrothed. The parting look which ho 
 gave her, as he left the apartment, did not encounter any con 
 sciousness in hers, or she might have dreaded, in the next 
 instant, to feel the venomous fang of the serpent. Her strength 
 failed her after his departure. Restrained till then, her emo 
 tions grew insupportable the moment she was left alone ; and 
 when Rose Duncan, apprised of Barsfield s absence, sought 
 her in the room where the conference had taken place, she 
 found her stretched upon the floor, only not enough insensible 
 to escape from the mental agony which the new situation of 
 things had forced upon her. 
 
 u* 
 
322 MKLIJOIiAMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 TROUBLES OP THE LOVERS. 
 
 * Is he gone ?" were the first, shudderingly-expressed words, 
 which the suffering maiden addressed to Rose Duncan as the 
 latter assisted her in rising from the floor. Her eyes were 
 red and swollen ; her glance wild, wandering, and strangely 
 full of light; her lips compressed with a visible effort, as if to 
 restrain the expression of those emotions which were still so 
 powerfully felt and shown. Instead of replying to the ques 
 tion of Janet, Rose could not forbear an exclamation of partial 
 rebuke. 
 
 " I warned you I told you not to see him, Janet. You 
 are now sorry for it." 
 
 "No no ! I must have known it, and better as it is bet 
 ter, better as it is to know it all ; there is no second stroke 
 no other that can now be felt, except God of heaven ! have 
 mercy, and save me from that !" 
 
 She buried her face in the bosom of Rose, and sobbed with 
 convulsive sorrows, as her imagination presented to her eye 
 the probable result of the trial to which her lover was to be 
 subjected. 
 
 "He never spares, Rose he has no mercies! From the 
 place of trial to the place of death, it is but a step ! So the 
 malignant Barsfield said it, and so it will be with such judges 
 as Balfour and Tarleton." And, as she spoke, she closed her 
 eyes, as if to shut out the dreadful images of doom and death 
 which were gathering thickly before her. It was only in 
 fitful starts of speech that Rose could gather from her com 
 panion the truth of her situation and the cause of her grief 
 It was only by successive pictures of the dreadful eventa 
 
TROUBLES OF THE LOVKR8. 323 
 
 which she anticipated, as they severally came to her mind, 
 and not by any effort at narration, that she was enabled to 
 convey to that of Rose the cruel nature of the intelligence 
 which Barsfield had conveyed in his interview. The anger of 
 Rose grew violent when she heard it, and that of Janet imme 
 diately subsided. She could the better perceive the futility 
 of uttered grief, when she perceived the inadequacy of all 
 words to describe her emotions. Grief, like Rapture, was 
 corn dumb. 
 
 But if Janet suffered thus much at first hearing of this sad 
 intelligence, she did not suffer less when communicating it that 
 evening to her lover. Could she have suffered for him could 
 she have felt all the agony of her present thoughts, assured 
 that it lay with her alone to endure all and let him go free, 
 she would not have murmured she would have had no uttered 
 grief. But the dreadful task was before her of saying to her 
 lover that the hour of their parting and probably their final 
 parting, was at hand. How much less painful to have heard 
 it from his lips to her, than to breathe it from her lips into his 
 ears. She could endure the stroke coming from him, but she 
 thought and this was the thought of one who love unselfishly 
 that she shared in the cruelty that she became a party to 
 the crime, and its immediate instrument, in unfolding the 
 dreadful intelligence to him. "He will hate me he will 
 regard it as my deed and oh ! how can I look as I tell him 
 this how can features express such feelings such a sorrow 
 as is mine !" 
 
 Such were the sobbing and broken words with which she 
 Bought her lover. She strove, however, to compose her coun 
 tenance. She even labored foolish endeavor! to restrain 
 to subdue her emotions. But when was the heart of woman 
 properly constituted only for intense feeling, and entire de 
 pendence that admits of no qualified love to be restrained 
 and subjected by a merely human will. There was that at 
 her heart which v;ould not be compelled. The feeling only 
 gathered itself up for a moment the better to expand. The 
 restraint gave it new powers of action, and, though she appeared 
 ill the presence of Mellichampe with a countenance in which a 
 
324 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 smile even strove for place and existence, it was yet evident 
 to herself that the power of self-control was rapidly departing 
 from her. The strife of encountering feelings was going on 
 within the earthquake toiling below, though sunshine and 
 flowers only were visible without. 
 
 It was with a joy so intense as to be tremulous, th.at Melli- 
 cliampe received her. His confinement had made him still 
 more a dependent upon her presence and affections. His love 
 for her had duly increased with its daily exercise; and, in the 
 absence of other and exciting influences, it had become a 
 regular, constant, and increasing flame, which concentrated 
 almost all his thoughts, and certainly governed and linked 
 itself with all his emotions. He longed for her coming as the 
 anticipative boy longs for the hour of promised enjoyment 
 with a feverish thirst no less intense, and an anxious earnest 
 ness far more lofty and enduring. When the latch was lifted 
 he ran forward to receive her, caught her extended hand h- 
 both of his own, and carried it warmly and passionately to his 
 lips. She could scarce effect her release, and the blush min 
 gled with the laboring smile upon her lips, which it rather 
 tended to strengthen than displace. 
 
 "Oh, Janet my own Janet what an age of absence! 
 How long you were in coming this evening! what has kept 
 you, and wherefore ? Truly, I began to fear that you were 
 tired of your office." 
 
 "No no, Ernest I can not tire, since it is so sweet to 
 serve. If I sought for mere pleasure and amusement in love, 
 I might tire of its sameness; but the love of my heart is its 
 devotion, and the better feelings of our nature, like the God 
 from whom they come, are the more dear to us, and the more 
 lovely in his sight, as they are never subject to change." 
 
 " Beautiful sentiment !" was the involuntary exclamation of 
 the youth, as he looked in her face and saw, through the 
 gathering tears in her eyes, the high-sonled seriousness the 
 sanctified earnestness of heart, which proved that she felt the 
 truth of the thought which she had uttered. Love was, indeed, 
 the religion of Janet Berkeley. It was in her to love all 
 things in nature, and to gather sweets from all its infiucnces 
 
TROUBLES OF THE LOVERS. 325 
 
 Even the subduing grief to which she was more than commonly 
 subject, brought into increased activity the love which she felt 
 for him who stood before her, yet awakened no opposite feeling 
 in her bosom against those who sought to do him wrong. 
 
 "Beautiful sentiment! he exclaimed, passionately, "and 
 worthy of your heart, my Janet. Love is its constant occupa 
 tion, and I believe, dearest, th.it you could not help but love 
 on, even if I were to forget your devotedness and my own 
 pledge to you. Would you not, Janet?" 
 
 "I know not that, Ernest. I have never thought of that, 
 but I think I could die then ;" and the last words were uttered 
 in his folding arms, and came to his ears like the sweet mur 
 mur of angel voices in a dream. 
 
 " Heaven forbid, my Janet, that I should ever do you wrong, 
 however slight? It would pain me to think that you could 
 imagine the possibility of a wrong at my hands, and through 
 my agency. True love, dearest, is a thing of entire confidence, 
 and nothing seems to me so sweet as the knowledge that you 
 have no emotion, no feeling or thought, which you do not give 
 up to iny keeping. It may be, indeed, that the thoughts and 
 feelings of women have little comparative value, so far as the 
 interests of men and of nations are concerned ; but, valueless 
 or not, they are thoughts and feelings with her her all her 
 only and, as such, they should be of permanent value with 
 him who loves her. How much that was unimportant nay, 
 how much that was positive nonsense did we say to each 
 other last evening and yet, Janet, to me it was the sweetest 
 nonsense." 
 
 And, smiling and folding her in his arms with the respectful 
 
 r fondness of a natural affection, he poured forth as garrulous a 
 
 tale in her ears as if he had not long and frequently before 
 
 narrated to her his own experience of heart, and demanded 
 
 hers in return. But she could not now respond to his garrulity. 
 
 "It was not that she felt not with him not that the heart had 
 
 suffered change, and the love had grown inconstant, though, 
 
 beholding her abstraction, with this he had reproached her; 
 
 but, reminded as she was of the joys which they had promised 
 
 themselves together in their frequent and sweet interviews, she 
 
326 MKLLICIIAMI K. 
 
 was now only the more forcibly taught to feel the violent 
 wrenching away from hope which the cunning of Barsfield, 
 and the bloody tyranny of Balfour and Tarleton, were pre 
 paring for them both. She could only throw herself upon his 
 manly bosom, like some heart-stricken and desponding depend 
 ant, and sob, as if, with every convulsion, life would render up 
 its sacred responsibility. 
 
 It is needless to say how alarmed how slacked was Melli- 
 champe, as he witnessed emotions so suddenly and strangely 
 violent. Since he had been a prisoner and wounded, with 
 Janet attending upon him, life had been to them both all 
 couleur de rose. Insensibly they had both forgotten the re 
 straints and difficulties, if not the dangers, of his situation. 
 They had lived only for love ; they had forgotten all priva 
 tions in its enjoyments ; and, as the circumstances attending 
 Mellichampe had made all farther concealment unnecessary 
 of the tie which bound them so sweetly and inseparably to 
 gether, their mutual hearts revelled in the freedom which their 
 release from all the old restraints necessarily brought to them. 
 Next to the joy of contemplating the beloved object, is the 
 pride with which we can challenge it for our own ; and that 
 feeling of pride, of itself, grew into a sentiment of pleasure in 
 the hourly and free survey of the object in the eye of others; 
 as the devotee of a new faith, who has long worshipped in 
 secret, avails himself of the first moment of emancipation to 
 build a proud temple to the God of his hidden idolatry. Thus 
 moved toward each other, and free, as it were, to love securely 
 for the first time, the two, so blessed, had forgotten all other 
 considerations. His wound ceased to be a pain, and almost a 
 care, since it was so entirely the care of the maiden ; and her 
 tendance made the moments precious of his confinement, and 
 lie blessed the evils which placed him in a relationship the 
 most desirable, and far the most delightful, of any he had ever 
 known. 
 
 To the maiden, the very assumption of some of the cares of 
 life, in attending upon the object most beloved, was eminently 
 grateful, as it was the first step which she had yet taken 
 toward the performance of some of those duties for which 
 
TKOUBI..KS OF THE LOVERS. 327 
 
 woman is peculiarly formed, and for wliicli her gentle regards 
 and affectionate tendernesses make her particularly fitted. 
 They occupied her mind while they interested her heart the 
 more ; and so completely did they absorh thoughts and affec 
 tions in the brief period of his confinement and sickness, that 
 she no longer heeded the hourly din of the military music 
 around her ; and the shrill note of the bugle, which heretofore 
 sent a thrill of dreadful apprehension to her soul whenever its 
 warlike summons smote upon her ear, now failed entirely to 
 remind her of those causas of apprehension to which she had 
 been before always most sensitively alive. From this dream 
 of pleasure, in which every thought and feeling which might 
 have counselled pain or doubt had been merged and lost sight 
 of, she had been too suddenly aroused by the cruel communi 
 cation of Barsfield. The long train of pleasant sensations, 
 hopes, and joys, departed in that instant; and in their place 
 rose up all the accustomed forms of fierce war and brutal out 
 rage, with the additional horrors of that peculiar danger to 
 which the circumstances connected with her lover s captivity 
 and situation had subjected him. As these successive images 
 of terror rose up before her imagination and crowded upon her 
 mind, the strong resolution with which she had determined 
 upon their mastery quite gave way, and she fell upon the neck 
 of her lover, yielding to all the weakness of her heart, and 
 refusing any longer to contend with her griefs. 
 * Nor couhl he for some time obtain from her a knowledge of 
 her cause of sorrow. She could only sob, not speak. Once 
 or twice she strove earnestly to articulate, hut the words choked 
 her in their utterance, and they terminated in convulsive but 
 unsyllabled sounds. He bore her to a seat, and knelt down 
 beside her, supporting her head upon his shoulder. Earnestly 
 and fondly did he seek to sooth the paroxysm under which she 
 suffered, and vainly, for a long while, did he implore her to be 
 calm and speak forth her griefs. When at length she so 
 far recovered herself as to raise her head from his shoulder 
 and fix her eye upon his face, the glance was instantly 
 averted, as if with horror, and the tears burst forth afresh. 
 With that glance came the thought of the hour when that 
 
328 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 noble Lead should be in the grasp of the executioner thai 
 manly, high, pure white brow obscured by his cowling blind 
 and th.it polished and lifted neck grasped by the polluting 
 halter. ? 
 
 These were the dreadful thoughts which came crowding to 
 her mind on that instant; and they might have been the 
 thoughts and the apprehensions, at that period, of a far 
 more masculine mind than that of Janet Berkeley ; for, what 
 was so common then as the certainty of execution to the ac 
 cused American ? what so sure as the execution of death to 
 one doomed by Balfour, Tarleton, or Cornwallis ? In these 
 hands lay the destiny of her lover. A few days would convey 
 him to the place of trial. A few hours travel through all its 
 abridged forms, and the hurried process of examination, mis 
 representing justice ; and how brief was the sad interval al 
 lowed for the final preparation between the doom and its exe 
 cution. These thoughts, which, to the strong and fearless man, 
 would have been only so many stirring apprehensions, were a 
 full conviction in the gentle heart of the timid and fond Janet. 
 She feared *he worst, and, being of no sanguine temper she 
 saw no hope upon which to lean for succor. Nothing but 
 clouds and storms rose before her sight, and her love, undevia- 
 ting and growing warmer to the last, was the only star that 
 rayed out in blessing through the thickness and the gloom. 
 
 " Oh, what, dearest Janet, is this suffering that wrings you 
 thus? What dream of danger, what wild apprehension, trou 
 bles you ? Speak to me, say what you know. Let me relieve 
 your sorrows, or, at least, share them with you." 
 
 It was thus that the youth pleaded, it was thus that he fondly 
 implored her to pour the griefs of her bosom into his, and make 
 him a partaker of those evils which she evidently was not 
 strong enough to bear alone. She replied by sobs, and it was 
 only at remote intervals that, coupling together the broken 
 parts of her speech, he was enabled to gather from her that he 
 was about to be carried to Charleston as a prisoner. Hearing 
 thus much, the first thought of Mellichampe was one gratify 
 ing to his vanity, and grateful in the extreme to his own warm 
 affection. He clasped 1 er fervently to his heart as he replied. 
 
f ROUBLES OF THE LOYER3. 
 
 " And you grieve tlms at our parting, at the prospect of our 
 separation. Ah, dearest, sweet is this additional evidence of 
 your sole-hearted love. But it will not be long, I will soon re 
 turn, I only go to be exchanged." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no ! never never ! You will return no more. 
 ft is false, Ernest false! No exchange no exchange! 
 They carry you to Balfour and to Tarleton, to be tried to 
 die ! to die !" 
 
 Incoherently then, but with the utmost rapidity, she ex 
 plained to him the circumstances which Barsfield had narrated 
 to her. His astonishment far exceeded her own apprehen 
 sions, and, after the first feeling of indignant surprise was 
 over, he calmly and confidently enough sought to reassure 
 her mind on the subject. 
 
 " Fear nothing, my Janet. They dare do nothing of what 
 you fear; and this charge against me, of being a spy upon 
 their camp, is too ridiculous to need any refutation, and should 
 occasion no concern." 
 
 The composure of her lover failed to satisfy her. 
 " Alas ! Ernest, no charge is too ridiculous with them. How 
 many have suffered from charges equally idle in the minds of 
 honest men !" 
 
 This was a truth well known to MelHcharnpe, and fully ap 
 strong in his mind as a cause of apprehension as it was in 
 the mind of the maiden ; but, with that pride of character 
 and soldierly resolve which were becoming in the man, lie 
 did not allow his own fears to strengthen hers. He over 
 ruled her reply, and rejected entirely the anticipation of 
 any danger resulting from the prospect of a trial in the city 
 under an allegation which, in his case, be esteemed so idle. 
 " I can soon disprove the charge, my Janet, I have witnesses 
 enough to show what my motives were in coming to Piney 
 Grove that night. For, Janet, you yourself, doarest, could 
 speak for me " 
 
 " I could, I could, dear Ernest." 
 
 " But should not," he replied ; " you should not suffer such 
 exposure to the rude soldiers as such a task would call for 
 No, no, my love, there will be no need^of this. The scoundrel 
 
330 
 
 MKLLICIIAMPK. 
 
 Barsfield only seeks to alarm or to annoy you. Perhaps, too 
 he has some object in it. This affair is his entirely ; Tarleton 
 and Balfour have nothing to do with it, and Cornwallis is far 
 off in North Carolina." 
 
 " Not so, Ernest. Barsfield has convinced me that the or 
 ders are from Tarleton : for, when I doubted his word, he 
 showed me the letter of Tarleton, written with his own hand." 
 
 " Ah ! then, there is something in it," was the involuntary 
 exclamation of the youth. Then, as he beheld the immediate 
 effect of his own gloomy look and speech upon the counte 
 nance of the maiden, he proceeded in a more cheerful manner. 
 
 " But I fear them not, my Janet, they can not, they dare not 
 harm me. I can prove my innocence, even should they pro 
 ceed to the threatened trial, which I misdoubt they never will 
 do; and, if they do me less than justice, my countrymen will 
 avenge it." 
 
 But such an assurance gave no animated hope to Janet. 
 Her tears burst forth afresh, and she clung to his arm and hung 
 upon his shoulder droopingly and despondingly. 
 
 " Hear me, Janet, dear love, and have no apprehensions. 
 You know not how strong is our security now against any such 
 crimes in future, as these tyrants have been in the habit of 
 committing upon the brave men who have fallen into their 
 hands. We have required our commander to retaliate unspar 
 ingly, and Marion has pledged himself to do so. When his 
 pledge is given it is sacred. We have called upon him to 
 avenge upon a prisoner of equal grade any execution of our 
 officers by the British commanders ; and we have freely sub 
 scribed our names to the paper, in which we offer our lives 
 freely to sustain him in such a course, and thus afford a solemn 
 proof of our sincerity. The enemy is not unadvised of this, 
 and they have become cautious since that affair at Camden. 
 We hear of no more executions ; they know better, my love, 
 than to proceed in this matter to any length. They will pay 
 dearly for every drop which is shed of my blood." 
 
 "Alas! Ernest, this consoles me nothing. On the contrary, 
 this very pledge which you have given to Marica, caJling for 
 retaliation upon the British, and promising to abide the cons* 
 
TROUBLES OF T1IK LOVERS. 331 
 
 Alienees with your own life, will it not make you only the more 
 obnoxious to them ? Will they not be the more disposed to 
 punish you for that; and will it not prompt them to receive the 
 most ridiculous charge with favor, if it promises to secure them 
 a victim in one who has shown so much audacity ? I fear me, 
 Ernest, that this very matter has led Tarleton to forget his 
 promise to me, and determines him to make you abide the pen 
 alty for which you have pledged yourself. Perhaps, too, it 
 may be, that Marion, in obedience to the pledge given to you, 
 lias executed some British officer." 
 
 This was a plausible suggestion, and did not tend in the 
 slightest degree to assure Mellichampe of the integrity of 
 his own opinions. It made him thoughtful for a while, and 
 increased the gloomy density of the prospect before him ; 
 but he did not suffer himself to forget for an instant that 
 it was his business to prevent the maiden from brooding ap 
 prehensively upon a subject so calculated to make her miser 
 able, and which had already so painfully worked upon her 
 feelings. He strove, by alternate defiance and ridicule, to 
 show that the danger was not so great when it was ap 
 proached that the British did not dare do what was 
 threatened ; and that, however willing and desirous they 
 might be to shed the blood of their enemies, a discreet 
 consideration of their own safety would keep them in future 
 from any wanton execution of their prisoners. 
 
 " And should they, in their madness, attempt my life, the 
 vengeance which would follow the deed would be such as 
 would make them repent of the error to the latest moment. 
 Life for life would be the atoning requisition of Marion, and 
 of every officer pledged to retaliation along with myself." 
 
 But that which in the shape of revenge, had the power to 
 console in part the audacious soldier, failed utterly to pro 
 duce a like effect upon the maiden. Her tears came forth 
 afresh at these words, and mournfully she sobbed out the re 
 ply which most effectually silenced all further assurances of 
 this nature. 
 
 " Alas ! Ernest, but this vengeance, which would be taken 
 by your brethren i~i arms, would be nothing to me. To reveng* 
 
232 MKLLICILAMPE. 
 
 f 
 
 your fate would not be to restore you ; and for all my ven 
 geance I look only to Heaven. Speak not to me oi" these 
 things, dearest Ernest, they only make the danger seem more 
 real, and it looks more closely at hand when you speak thus." 
 
 " Then hear me on another topic, Janet." 
 
 She looked up inquiringly, and the tears began tw dry upon 
 her cheek as she beheld a bright light and a gathering elasti 
 city of expression in his eyes. Her head was thrown back as 
 she looked up into his face, whilejiis extended hands grasped 
 her arms tenderly. 
 
 " I will not risk this trial, Janet, I will escape from this 
 double bondage, yours and the enemy s." 
 
 "How!" was the wondering exclamation of the maiden. 
 
 " I have a thought, not yet fully matured in my mind, by 
 which T think my escape may be effected. But no more of it 
 now. That is the footstep of the surgeon. Away, dearest, 
 and have no fears. Despond not, I pray you, but be ready 
 with all your strength of mind to give me your assistance, for 
 I greatly depend on you in my design." 
 
 With a hurried embrace they separated as the surgeon en 
 tered the chamber; and Janet hurried a* /ay, with a full heart 
 and troubled mind, to pray for her lover s safety, and to dreasn 
 of hii coming danger. 
 
THE. HALF-BKEED BETRAYS THE TORY/ 338 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE HALF-BREEp BETRAYS THE TORY. 
 
 BUT it was not for the maiden to retire that night to her 
 slumbers without some better assurances for hope than those 
 contained in the parting intimation of her lover. An auxil 
 iary, but little looked for, was at hand; and, as she left the 
 little ante-chamber in which her interview with Melliehampe 
 had taken place, she felt her sleeve plucked by some one from 
 behind. She turned in some trepidation, which was instantly 
 relieved, however, as her eye distinguished the intruder to 
 be Blonay. The distorted features of this man had never 
 offended Janet, as they were apt commonly to offend those of 
 others. She saw nothing in mere physical deformity, at 
 any time, to hate or to despise; and, as pity was always the 
 most ready and spontaneous sentiment of her soul, she had 
 regarded him from the first, as she knew nothing of his moral 
 deformities, with none but sentiments of commiseration and 
 indulgence. 
 
 The effect of this treatment, and of these invariable shows 
 of sympathy on her part, was always made visible in his de 
 portment and look whenever he approached her. lie strove, 
 on all such occasions, to subdue and keep down those expres 
 sions of hate, cunning, and cupidity, which a long practice in 
 the various arts of human warfare had rendered, if not the 
 natural, the habitual features of his face. A ludicrous com 
 bination of natural ugliness with smiles, intended for those of 
 complaisance and regard, was the consequence of these efforts ; 
 and, however unsuccessful the half breed may have been in 
 the assumption of an expression so foreign to his own, the 
 attempt, as it conveyed a desire to please and make himself 
 
334 
 
 AfELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 agreeable, was sufficient to commend him to the indulgence of 
 one of so gentle a mood as Janet Berkeley. 
 
 Approaching her now, the countenance of Blonay wore its 
 most seductive expression. The grin of good-feeliug was of 
 the most extravagant dimensions, expanding the mouth from 
 ear to ear; while the goggle eyes above, from the vastness of 
 the effort below, were contracted to the smallest possible 
 limits. But for this good-natured expression, the mysterious 
 caution of his approach might have alarmed the maiden. A 
 single start, as she recognised him, only testified her surprise, 
 and she paused quietly the moment after, to learn his motive 
 for the interruption. 
 
 " Hist, miss ! I ax your pardon, but please let me come after 
 you in the room ; I want to tell you something." 
 
 She did not scruple to bid him follow lier, and they entered 
 the apartment in which she had conversed with Barsfield 
 There she found Rose Duncan awaiting her. Janet signed tc 
 Rose to leave them for a while, and the moment they were 
 alone, the half-breed drew nigh, and in a whisper, and with an 
 air of great mystery, commenced as follows : 
 
 " You ve Learn from the cappin, miss, about the young man 
 what s a prisoner here?" 
 
 He spoke affirmatively, though with an inquiring expression 
 of countenance, and Janet nodded her head assentingly. 
 
 " Adrat it, miss, if they ever gits the young man to Charles 
 ton city, there s no chance for him ; so the cappin says." 
 
 He paused. At a loss to determine what could be the 
 motive of the scout in thus addressing her upon this topic, yet 
 fondly believing that he Lad some plan of service in reserve, 
 by which he hoped to commend himself, she strongly mastered 
 her feelings, which every reference to the painful topic brought 
 into increased and trying activity ; and, bowing her Lead as 
 she spoke, she simply respDnded : 
 
 " True, sir ; yes, I fear it but what can be done ?" 
 This question, though uttered unconsciously, and entirely 
 unintended, was, however, to the point, and the answer of 
 Blonay was immediate: 
 
 " Ah, that s it, miss what s to be done ? The cappin says 
 
THE HALF-BKKEI) BETRAYS THE TOKY. 335 
 
 something s to be done, but lie can t do it, you see, cauee 
 they trusts him, and he can t break his trust. It s much as his 
 neck s worth, you see, to do it." 
 
 With some surprise, she inquired of whom he spoke. 
 
 " Why, you don t know the cappin that s here Cappin Bars- 
 field ? He says as how the young man s to be hung if he gits 
 to Charleston, and how he must get away before; and he tells 
 me I m to try and git him off, without letting the sogers see." 
 
 Barsfield Barsfield say this? Barsfield do this, Mr. Bio- 
 nay? Impossible! You do not know the man." 
 
 "It s a round truth, miss lie tell d me so with his own 
 mouth, and tell d me ax pardon, miss, but I must tell you all 
 what he said " 
 
 He paused hesitatingly. 
 
 " Speak boldly," she said, encouragingly. 
 
 "He said, miss, as how he loved you, though you didn t 
 fancy him no how, and hadn t no thought ccpt for the young 
 fellow that s a prisoner ; and how he wanted to help the young 
 man, though he didn t like him no how ; and he would do so, 
 if twas only to do you pleasure." 
 
 "And he told you this?" inquired the maiden, in unmixed 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Jist the words, miss." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 "Yes; and he said as how he couldn t help the young man 
 off, for he had to watch him, but that I must do it; and he 
 gave me this money to do it." 
 
 "And did he counsel you to tell me of this?" 
 
 "No, miss, he only tell d me to tell you that I could git the 
 young fellow out of prison, and git you to make him know 
 how he was to do, and all about it; but the cappin told me I 
 wasn t to say nothing about him in the business, for he said 
 you hated him so you would think something wrong if you 
 knew he had a hand in it." 
 
 "And I do think there is something wrong in it. Heaven 
 help me ! what new plot is he weaving now ? What new mis 
 chief would he contrive? Is Mellichampe never to escape hip 
 toils T Would to Heaven that I had a friend ?" 
 
336 MKLLICIIAMI E. 
 
 " Adrat it, miss, but aint I willing to be your friend 1 and I 
 won t ax you for no pay. I m a poor sort of body enough, and 
 you re a sweet lady ; but I m willing to be your friend, and t\ 
 pull trigger for you, if needs be and the time comes for it. 
 Jist say now that I shall be your friend, and there s no telling 
 how much I can help you in this here squabble." 
 
 " You can help me nothing, I fear me, Mr. Blonay ; and as 
 for tli is plan of Captain Barsfield, I will have nothing to do 
 with it or him. I doubt I suspect all his plans; and how 
 ever lie may profess of regard for me, I look upon this employ 
 ment of you, for the purpose of which you speak, as only a 
 new scheme for the entrapment of Mr. Mellichampe." 
 
 "That s jist what I was going to tell you, miss; for, you 
 seo, it don t stand to reason, that when a man hates another 
 to kill, he s going to help him to git away ; and so, when the 
 cnppin first spoke to me, I was bewildered like, and said I d 
 do it; but, soon as I got in the bush and began to think about 
 it, aclrat it ! the whole contrivance stood clear before me, and 
 so I went back to him." 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 " "Well, you see, to tell him as how I couldn t think to han 
 dle the thing, for I didn t see to the bottom of it." 
 
 "Well what then?" 
 
 "Why, then he up and tell d me all the whole truth all 
 what he kept before : and, sure enough, twas jist as I thought, 
 and jist what you think. The cappin only wanted to have a 
 drive himself at the young fellow, and he thought, if he could 
 git me to talk to you, and make fine promises as how I could 
 git him out of prison, why, I should lead him into a trap that 
 ne d set, so that there would bo no gitting off." 
 
 " You refused ?" 
 
 "No, reckon not. I worn t a fool, you see. I know d if I 
 said no, it wouldn t be so safe for me any longer in these parts; 
 and then agin I know d if he didn t git me he d git somebody 
 else, so I took the money, and promised to do my best and to 
 try you." 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Blonay from my heart I thank you. 
 You have done me good service indeed and you shall be 
 
THE HALF-BREED BETRAYS THE TOKT. 337 
 
 rewarded. Had you not told me all of this business bad you 
 suppressed the connection of Captain Barsfield with the de 
 sign I might have accepted your services for Mr. Melli- 
 cbampe ; nay, I must have been driven, by the desperate 
 situation in which he stancls, to consent to his flight under 
 your direction. And then oh, horrible to think upon ! my 
 hand would have been instrumental in his murder. I should 
 have prepared the snare wJiich was to give his victim to this 
 bloody man !" 
 
 She preserved her coolness, though trembling with the new 
 emotions which the communication of Blonay had inspired, 
 and drew from him, by a series of questions, the whole dia 
 logue which had taken place between him and the tory. From 
 these developments she was persuaded not that her lover 
 was likely to escape at the coming trial, and thus defeat the 
 wishes of his enemy but that the anxious thirst of Barsfield 
 for his revenge in person made him unwilling to lose his prey, 
 even through the hands of the executioner. With this impres 
 sion her misery was doubly increased. She saw nothing but 
 dangers and difficulties on every hand. Should Mellichampe 
 be carried safely to the city, what but a cruel and bitter death 
 awaited him there? But could he be carried there in safety ? 
 This seemed to her impossible. Would he not go under the 
 custody of Barsfield *s creatures ? No longer guarded by her 
 watchful attendance no longer ,-^afe from the presence and 
 the obtrusion of others, would not his enemy then have those 
 thousand opportunities for working out his vengeance which 
 now were denied him by the excellent arrangements made by 
 Tarleton ? And if he fled before that period came, what but 
 the knife or the pistol of the waylaying ruffian could she 
 expect for him in his flight? As these fears and thoughts 
 accumulated in her mind, she found herself scarcely able to 
 maintain a proper firmness hi the presence of the savage. She 
 accordingly prepared to dismiss him, and had already put in 
 his hands a small sum of gold, which he did not demur to 
 receive, when she remembered that it might be of advantage, 
 and was certainly only her duty, to disclose these circumstances 
 to Mellichampe before finally rejecting the proposition. 
 
338 MELLICIIAMPK. 
 
 Seek me to-morrow," slic said, hurriedly, seek me in 
 private, when the troops are on parade. Keep yourself un 
 seen, Mr. Blonay, and we will then speak more on this matter. 
 
 At the earliest opportunity on the morning of the next day 
 she sought Mellichampe, and unfolded all the particulars of 
 the interview with Blonay. The speech of her lover, as he 
 listened to her communication, astounded her not a little. 
 
 "Admirable! Excellent!" were the words of exultation 
 with which he received the intelligence. "This will do ad 
 mirably, dear Janet, and corresponds finely with a plan which 
 I had conceived in part. A good plan, attended with diffi 
 culties, however, which, without the aid of Blonay, I could not 
 so easily have overcome. I now see my way through. The 
 scheme of Barsfield will help me somewhat to the execution of 
 my own project, and must greatly facilitate my chances of 
 escape." 
 
 " Speak how say, dear Ernest," cried the maiden breath 
 lessly. 
 
 " Hear me. We will accept of the services of this fellow 
 Blonay I will take his guidance." 
 
 " What ! to be murdered !" 
 
 " No ! to escape." 
 
 She shook her head doubtfully. 
 
 "Listen!" he proceeded. "Blonay is trusted by Barsfield, 
 and evidently does not trust in return. It is shown sufficiently 
 in the development which he has made to you of all the plans 
 of the tory. We do not see exactly why this should be so, 
 but so it evidently is. The probability is, indeed, that Blonay 
 is conscious that he has no claim upon Barsfield after he shall 
 have served him by my death, and he fears that he himself 
 will be as soon murdered by his employer when he shall have 
 discharged his agency, in order to the better concealment of 
 his own share in my escape. There are no ties among ruffians 
 save those of a common interest, and the policy of Barsfield 
 will be the destruction of one to whom he has been compelled 
 to confide so much. According to Blonay s own showing, the 
 necessity of the case extorted from the tory a confession of his 
 true design, which, before, he was disposed to withhold. Un- 
 
THE HALF-BREED BKTRAYS THE TORT. 339 
 
 faithful to Barsfield, .the half-breed will be faithful to me; and, 
 from all that I can see, there must be some secret reason for 
 his desire to serve you, which you will learn in time. Mean 
 while we will accept his. services we will make the most of 
 him, and bribe high in order to secure him at all points." 
 
 "But may not all this be only another form of deception, 
 dear Ernest ?" cried the less sanguine maiden. " Think you 
 we can rely upon one whom money can buy? Alas! Ernest, 
 "it seems to me that these dangers grow more terrible and 
 numerous the more we survey them. 
 
 <; To be sure they do, dear Janet the thing is a proverb. 
 But we should never look at the fear, but the hope never at. 
 the danger, always at the success. Whether Blonay be honest 
 or not, it matters no great deal to me in the plan which I have 
 formed. To a certain extent we may still rely upon him, and 
 be independent of him in every other respect. We want hut 
 little at his hands little in his thought, and little in that of 
 Barsfield if it be the design of the latter to entrap me into 
 flight the better to effect my murder, I only desire to secure 
 my escape beyond this dwelling to escape these sentinels, 
 and once more plant my footstep in the green woods that grow 
 around us. Let him help me but to that degree of freedom, 
 and I ask nothing further. Let the strife come then let the 
 ambuscade close then its toils about me, and the danger ap 
 pear. I shall then be free: my arms to strike my voice to 
 shout aloud my soul to exult in the fresh air of these old 
 forests, though I perish the very next moment." 
 
 " Speak not so, Ernest," she implored. 
 
 " I must : for I will then breathe again in freedom, though 
 I breathe in death. I shall complain nothing of the fight." 
 
 " This is madness, Ernest. This is only flying from one 
 form of death to another." 
 
 "Granted and that is much. Who would not fly to the 
 knife, or the sudden shot, to escape the cord the degradation 
 the high tree and the howling hate that surrounds it, and 
 mingles in with the last agonies of death. Such escape would 
 be freedom, though it brought death along with it. But I 
 would not die, my Janet ; with proper management I should 
 
340 MELLTCIIAMPE. 
 
 be secure." He spoke with an air of confidence that almost 
 reassured her. 
 
 " How?" she cried, anxiously ; " tell me all tell me your 
 hope, Ernest. How will you escape by what management?" 
 
 " By the simplest agency in the world. Hear me: Even 
 now that trusty fellow, Witherspoon, is lurking around my 
 prison. Only last night, just after you left me, I heard his 
 signals close upon, and evidently this side of, the avenue. 
 But for the fear of provoking suspicion I should have answered 
 them. He is about me night and day he will sooner desert 
 the squad than me. And thus he will remain ; if I can convey 
 intelligence to him, I can do anything I can effect my 
 escape. I can put it out of the power of Barsfield to do me 
 any harm, unless he does it in fair fight." 
 
 "But how will you (To this; and what can I do toward it?" 
 
 "Much, dearest very much. But hear me further. If I 
 can say to Witherspoon, On such a night I fly from my prison 
 
 I meet you at such a place I pursue such a course I 
 apprehend an ambuscade, and will require that a counter- 
 ambuscade be set ha! do you see?" 
 
 "Yes yes go on." 
 
 "He will understand it will come to him like a light- 
 like a light from Heaven. He will not be able to bring men 
 enough to encounter Barsfield s whole force, which has been 
 growing largely, you tell me, but he will bring enough to tell 
 against the few whom the tory will employ for my murder, and 
 thus ah ! you understand me now." 
 
 " Yes, Ernest, but still I fear." 
 
 " I hope ! what do you fear ?" 
 
 "The fighting" 
 
 " And, if I am free, dear Janet, I should still have to fight 
 until the war is over until the invader has gone from the 
 land." 
 
 " Yes, but oh, Ernest, if there should not be men enough ? 
 
 if they should not come in time ?" 
 
 " These are risks which I must take hourly, my beloved, and 
 of which I may not complain now. Remember the dreadful 
 risk which I incur while remaining. Is there no risk in going 
 
THE HALF-BREED BET It AYS THE TOUT. 
 
 under a guard to Charleston, to be tried as a spy and by 
 such judges as Balfour, Rawdon, and Tarleton ?" 
 
 She shuddered, but said nothing. He continued 
 
 " No, my love, I must not scruple to avail myself of the he]p 
 of Blonay, whether he be true or false. Let him but help me 
 beyond this prison to those woods I ask from him no more. 
 Let him lead me to the ambuscade. If we can convey intelli 
 gence to Witherspoon, we shall provide for it. I shall with 
 hold everything from Blonay that might place us in his power. 
 He shall know nothing of our plans, but be suffered to pursue 
 his own. He shall guide me beyond the prison that is all 
 that I require; and as it is Barsfield s own plan which we so 
 far follow up, he will doubtless effect all necessary arrange 
 ments for speeding me beyond the regular guards in safety. 
 Once let me reach the avenue, and I leave his guidance and 
 take the opposite path, where I propose that Witherspoon 
 shall place his men." 
 
 " And you will, then, employ Blonay to convey this matter 
 to Witherspoon ?" 
 
 "No, no. We must have a trustier friend than Blonay for 
 such a business, and this is another difficulty. Blonay could 
 never find Witherspoon unless provided with certain passwords 
 which, as they furnish the key to the very dwelling of the. 
 swamp-fox/ I may not confide wantonly." 
 
 "Trust me, then, dear Ernest; I will seek him I will not 
 betray the trust, though they make even death the instrument 
 for extorting it from my lips." 
 
 "True heart dear love I thank you for this devotion, 
 but I must seek an humbler agent." 
 
 " Who 1" 
 
 " Scipio. I will trust him, and you shall counsel him, as I 
 am not permitted to see him here, or to go beyond my prison. 
 To you will I give these words to you will I confide all the 
 requisitions which I make upon Witherspoon for the object in 
 view, and we must then arrange with Blonay to pave the way 
 for my flight from the dwelling, holding him, and, through 
 him, his base employer, to the idea that I fly upon the fiist 
 inggestion >f Blonay, having no hope of aid from without." 
 
;542 MEI.LICIIAMI R 
 
 And tlius, strong in liis Lope of success, and buoyant with 
 the promise of an escape from tlie clangers of that mock trial, 
 but real judgment, which had been held up before him, and 
 which be regarded with no less earnestness, though with noth 
 ing of the fear of his feminine companion, he detailed to the 
 maiden the entire plan which he had formed of flight, and, 
 whispering in her ear the passwords which led her through 
 every scout and sentry watching around the camp of Marion, 
 lie left it to her to pencil the message to Witherspoon, which 
 he calculated would bring sufficient aid for the service upon 
 which he was required. The spirits of Janet rose with the 
 task thus put upon her. To be employed for him she loved, 
 in peril no less than in trouble, was the supremest happiness 
 to a heart so loving and so true as hers. Her quick mind 
 readily conceived the tasks before her, and her devoted heart 
 led her as quickly to their performance. 
 
THE TOKY EXULTS LN HOPES OF VKNGEAlfCE. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE TORY EXULTS IN HIS HOPES OF VENGEANCE. 
 
 JANET lost no time in the performance of lier duties. She 
 immediately sought out the half-breed. lie lingered about 
 the dwelling, and was soon called into her presence. It was 
 with no small surprise that he now listened to the determina 
 tion of the maiden, to avail herself, on behalf of her lover, of 
 the services of the scout in the very equivocal aid which he 
 had been prompted to offer by the tory. His astonishment 
 could not be suppressed. 
 
 " It surprises you," she said, " but so Mr. Mellichampe has 
 determined. He thinks it better to risk all other dangers than 
 that of a dishonest trial before bloody judges in the city." 
 The half-breed shook his head. 
 
 " Wea, now, it s mighty foolish ; for, as sure as a gun, Miss 
 Janet, ke cappin s mighty serious about this matter, and 
 there ll 1*3 110 chance for the young gentleman, no how. He d 
 better n<re uimk of it now, I tell you." 
 
 " I th*u*a you, Mr. Blonay I thank you, I m sure, for the 
 interest *?a lake in me and him ; but, whatever be the danger, 
 Mr. Mel ^aampe is determined upon it, if you ll only give your 
 assistan . , 
 
 " Adi . ., s i ne shall have that, fur as I can go for him. Say 
 what I , ** uo that s in reason, and I ll do it." 
 
 " Yoi vuiiun. procure him some arms for his defence. If there 
 is da&g - *wu K.now, he should be provided with some weapons 
 to meet 
 
 " Arl 4-* eword p rhaps a knife reckon he d like pis 
 tols too 
 
344 MELLICHAMPK. 
 
 " Whatever be can get." 
 
 " I ll try but tbere s no saying. I ll do what I can." , 
 
 " He desires no more of you. Next, you must find out ex 
 actly \vliere Captain Barsfield puts bis ambuscade." 
 
 " Eli ! that s the trap, you mean ?" 
 
 " Yes find out that, get the weapons, and at midnight to 
 morrow he will be ready to go with you." 
 
 "To-morrow night midnight! well, now, Miss Janet 
 that ll be a bad time, seeing that thcr ll be a bright moon then. 
 
 She paused hesitated but a moment after repeated the 
 order. 
 
 "It must be then. He wishes it to be so he has so deter 
 mined." 
 
 " Jist as you say, miss. I m ready though it s a mighty 
 tough sort of business, I tell you ; and the cappin s got a ground 
 knife for the lad, I reckon. He bates bin pretty bad, and 
 won t miss his chance, if he can help it." 
 
 "Be you true to us, Mr. Blonay; be you true, and I hope 
 for the best. Be you true to us, as you would hope for God s 
 blessing on your life hereafter. Take this purse, Mr. Blonay 
 the gift is small, I know, but it will prove to you how grate 
 ful I am for what you have done for me, and be an earnest of 
 what I shall give you for your continued fidelity." 
 
 She put a richly wrought purse of silk into his hands, through 
 the interstices of which the half-breed beheld distinctly tho 
 rich yellow of the goodly coin which filled it. It was no part 
 of his morality to refuse money on any terms, and he did not af 
 fect any hesitation on the present occasion. It found its way 
 readily into a general reservoir, which was snugly concealed 
 by his dress, and there became kindred with the guineas which 
 Barsfield had bestowed upon him for a very different service. 
 
 Though without doubt intending to be faithful to Janet, and 
 distrusting Barsfield on his own account, the gift of the 
 maiden stimulated his fidelity, and he seriously, though in his 
 own rude and broken manner, attempted to dissuade her from 
 the project. Janet heard him patiently, thanked him for his 
 counsel, but reiterated the determination of Mellichampe tc 
 abide his chance. 
 
THE TO.RY EXULTS IN HOl KS OF VKNGKA.NCE. 345 
 
 "Well if that s the how, he exclaimed, conclusively, the 
 butt of his rifle sinking heavily upon the floor as he spoke 
 " if that s the how and he s bent to take his chance, he must 
 go through v.lth it though I warn you, Miss Janet, there ll 
 b main hard fighting " 
 
 " Be sure you get the weapons," she said, interrupting him. 
 
 "I ll try; for he ll want em bad, I tell you. I ll do my 
 best, and if so be I can get him out of the scrape, it won t bo 
 the guineas, Miss Janet, that ll make me do it. You re a lady, 
 every inch of you, and I ll work for you jist the same as if you 
 hadn t gi n me anything; and " in a half-whisper conclu 
 ding the sentence "if it comes to the scratch, you see, adrat 
 it I won t stop very long to put it to the capphvs own head," 
 and he touched significantly the lock of his rifle. She shud 
 dered slightly, not so much at the action or the words as at 
 the dreadful lo&k which accompanied them. 
 
 " To-morrow I shall see you, then ?" she said, as he was 
 about to leave her. " You go now, I suppose, to communicate 
 to Captain Bars field ?" 
 
 " Yes off hand. He tell d me to come to him soon as I d 
 got your answer." 
 
 " Do so, Mr. Blonay and, remember the hour remember 
 the arms !" 
 
 The scout was gone the die was cast and the feelings 
 of the woman grew uppermost with his departure. She sank 
 into a chair, and was relieved by a flood of tears. 
 
 The intelligence brought by the half-breed rejoiced the 
 heart of the tory. 
 
 "And when does he propose to take advantage of your 
 offer? What time has he appointed for the flight?" he de 
 manded, eagerly. The scout, more cunning than Janet, had 
 his answer : 
 
 "That he leaves to me. I m to git things ready, you see, 
 cappin, and when I tells him I m ready to show the track, he ll 
 set out upon it with me." 
 
 " Tis well ! You have done excellently, Blonay, and shall 
 fare the better for it. I feared th at she might be suspicious of 
 you: but the case is desperate she thinks so, at least, and 
 
MKUJClIAMi K. 
 
 that, is enough. f rarlcto and Balfmir are not known as mer 
 ciful judges, and Mellichampe is prudent to take any other 
 risk. " 
 
 ^ The tory spoke rather to himself than to his companion. 
 The latter, however, did not suffer him to waste much time in 
 unnecessary musing. lie put his inquiries with the freedom 
 of one confident of his importance. 
 
 "And now, cappin, which track am I to take? You wants 
 to fix a sort of trap, and " 
 
 "A} } r es! But you must let me know the hour upon 
 .ipon which you start, in order that I may prepare beforehand." 
 
 " Sal-tain," was the unhesitating reply. Barsfield pro 
 ceeded : 
 
 " The mere departure from the house will be easy enough. 
 He must go in safety out of the immediate enclosure. Nothing 
 must be done to harm him in close neighborhofd of the dwel 
 ling. The sentinel guarding the gallery will be missing from 
 the watch at the hour on which you tell me the prisoner is 
 disposed to start. Determine upon that as soon as possible, in 
 order that I may arrange it. The sentinel at the back-door 
 will also be withdrawn, and you will have no difficulty in get 
 ting to the bay in the hollow between the house and the ave 
 nue. Lead him by the bay toward the garden-fence; follow 
 that close until you reach the avenue, and by that time you 
 will b<i relieved of your company, or never!" 
 
 The tone of Barsfield s voice rose into fierce emphasis as he 
 uttered the last words, and the triumphant, and bitter hope of 
 his malignant heart spoke out no less in the glare of his eyes 
 and the movement of his uplifted arm, than in the language 
 from his lips. He thus continued : 
 
 "Go now and complete your arrangements with the lady. 
 Come to me then, and tell me what is determined upon. ]-ie 
 prompt, Blonay, and stick to your words, and you shall be 
 properly rewarded." 
 
 The half-breed promised Ir.m freely enough, and left him 
 instantly to do as he was directed/ The soul of the tory 
 spoke out more freely when he was alone. 
 
 "Ay, you shall be rewarded, but with a fate like his. J 
 
TIM*. TORY i.xri/rs IN HOTKS OF VKNGKANCK. 34-7 
 
 should be a poor fool, in deed, to leave such a secret in custody 
 like yours." 
 
 He little knew that the keen thought of the stolid- seeming 
 Blomiy had seen through his design, and meditated a treach 
 ery less foul, as it had its cause and provocation. 
 
 " He can not escape me now !" said Barsfield to himself, as 
 lie paced to and fro among the trees where he had spoken 
 with Blonay. "Not even Tarleton shall now pluck him from 
 my grasp. His doom is written : and she she, too, shall not 
 live for another, who scorns to live for me! I punish her 
 when I put my foot on him. This mockery of a trial, which 
 Tarleton has devised to effect his escape, deludes not me. I 
 *ee through him. He would clear him : he aims at my ruin. 
 I see through the drift of this order. His own testimony 
 would be brought to bear in behalf of my enemy, and I should 
 only be cited to prove that which he would find others to dis 
 prove. I shall disappoint his malice. Mellichampe, by his 
 own precipitation, shall disappoint him. His benevolent plan 
 to take my enemy from my grasp shall be defeated, and I 
 shall yet triumph in his heart s best blood. Had he not been 
 my e.nemy, he would not have troubled himself with such 
 unusual and unbecoming charity. No ! he must glut his own 
 passion for revenge and blood whenever his humor prompts 
 him,* and deny to all others a like enjoyment. He shall not 
 deny me not in this! The doom of Mellichampe is writ 
 ten his hours are numbered and, unless hell itself con 
 spires against me, he can escape me no longer !" 
 
348 MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI1. 
 
 SCIPIO SET ON TRACK. 
 
 BLONAY soon made his communication to Janet, and bort; 
 hio intelligence back to Barsfield. 
 
 "To-morrow night, then, is resolved upon?" 
 
 "Midnight," replied the scout, telling the truth, which he 
 could not otherwise avoid, as the sentinel was to be withdrawn 
 from the gallery only at the time when Mellichampe was pre 
 pared to sally forth. Had it been possible to conceal the fact, 
 Blonay would not have exposed it. 
 
 44 He lives till then ! was the fierce but suppressed excU 
 Diation of the tory. 
 
 "Where do you go now, Mr. Blonay?" he inquired, seeing 
 the half-breed about to move away. 
 
 "Well, cnppin, I m jist guine to give a look after my own 
 man, seeing that I ve been working hard enough after your n." 
 
 You are for the swamp, then ?" 
 
 " Well, yes." 
 
 "Remember not to delay; without your presence the pris 
 oner will hardly venture on a start." 
 
 "I ll be mighty quick this time." 
 
 "And let me know all that you can about the fox. See 
 to his force, for I shall soon be ready to take a drive after 
 him." 
 
 The half-breed promised, and soon set out on his journey, 
 while Barsfield proceeded exultingly to arrange his murderous 
 projects. That night, Janet Berkeley conveyed to Melli- 
 cnampe the particulars of her further progress. 
 
 "Well, dearest, does he give the route we are to take? 
 kmve you got that?" was the first inquiry of the youth. 
 
SCITIO SET ON TllACK. 349 
 
 She repeated the words of Blonay, which detailed the route 
 in the very language of the tory. 
 
 "This is most important. As we have that, we now know 
 what to do. We can countermine his projects, I trust. Wo 
 can prepare an offset for his ambush which will astound him. 
 The villain ! Along the bay, by the fence, and toward the 
 mouth of the avenue his ambush is there : there, then, must 
 the struggle come on. Well, well it must be so. There is 
 no retreat now, Janet there is no help else!" 
 
 " Oh, Mellichampe ! there is retreat there must be retreat, 
 if you really think the ambush lies in that quarter. You must 
 take another path, or " 
 
 "No, no, Janet no. Think you, if he designs to murder 
 me, that he will not watch my flight? Every step which I 
 take from these apartments will be with the eyes of his crea- 
 tures upon me." 
 
 " Then go not, since you will only go to death." 
 
 " I will go, Janet I must. It is my hope, and out of his 
 malice I hope to make my security. Hear me, and under 
 stand his plan. He will assist me forth from his encampment 
 until I reach its utmost limit, and he will then set upon me. 
 To slay me within its boundary would be to incur the suspi 
 cion of foul play on the part of his superiors. He only seeks 
 to avoid that that is all; and once having me beyond his 
 bounds, and, as it were, beyond his responsibility, he will then 
 have no scruple to slay me, as he will then have his ready 
 reply to any charge of foul practice. What will it be then 
 but the shooting down a prisoner seeking to escape that 
 prisoner under charges, too, of being a spy, and notoriously 
 hostile to his master and his cause?" 
 
 " And yet, dearest Ernest, you will adventure this flight 
 even with this apprehension, and so perfect a consciousness of 
 it in your mind ?" 
 
 "Even so, Janet, even so. I think he may be foiled. Next 
 to knowing the game of your enemy is the facility of boating 
 him at the play. I think to overmatch him now, if my friends 
 serve me, as I think they will, and if they are still in the neigh 
 borhood. We must lay ambush ;i gainst ambush, we must op- 
 
350 MELLICHAMl K. 
 
 pose armed men to armed men, and then, God forget us if we 
 play it not out bravely." 
 
 " But suppose, dear Ernest, that Scipio finds not the men, 
 or any of them." 
 
 " I can then defer the flight, Janet : l>ut he will find them ; 
 they are even now about us, and so bent to serve me is Wither- 
 spoon, that I make no doubt they would attempt to rescue me 
 from the clutches of the tory if I were even under strong 
 guard on my way to Charleston. They know my danger, 
 and will look to it. Witherspoon must be in the neighbor 
 hood I am sure of it, and ha! hear you not, my love 
 even as I speak, hear you not that whistle ? far off, slight, but 
 yet distinct enough. Hear it now again, and again. You 
 will always hear it thrice distinctly, and, if you were nigh, 
 you could distinguish a slight quivering sound, with which 
 it diminishes and terminates. That s one of our signals of 
 encouragement, and to my mind it conveys, as distinctly as 
 any language, the words, Friends are nigh friends are 
 nigh !" We have a song among us to that effect, written by 
 George Dennison, one of our partisans, a fine, high-spirited and 
 smart fellow, which I have hummed over to myself a hundred 
 times since I have been here, it promises so sweetly to one 
 in my condition : 
 
 11 Friends are nigh ! despair not, 
 
 In the tyrant s chain 
 They may fly, but fear not, 
 They ll return again. 
 
 u Not more true the season 
 
 Brings the buds and flowers, 
 
 Than, through blight and treason, 
 
 Come these friends of oura 
 
 " I believe the assurance. That song has strengthened me, 
 that single whistle note, and hear, Janet, hear how it conies 
 again, closer and closer, stronger and clearer. That Wither 
 spoon is a daring fellow, and can not be far from the avenue. 
 No doubt he is even now gazing down from some tree upon 
 the unconscious sentinels. If so, I am safe. lie has seen 
 
SCII IO SKT ON TKACK. 351 
 
 all their positions all their movements and has an eye 
 and a head that will enable him to note and take advan 
 tage, of even the smallest circumstance. You will see!" 
 
 " Then hurry, dear Ernest, that Scipio may find him even 
 now in the neighborhood* Write write." 
 
 She stood beside him while he pencilled a scrawl for the 
 courier negro, and gave it into her hand. 
 
 " One thing, Janet," he exclaimed, as she was about to leave 
 him. She returned. He whispered in her ear, 
 
 " Let him bring me weapons, some weapon, any weapon, 
 which may take life, and which he may conceal about him." 
 
 She said nothing of her directions to Blonay on this very 
 subject. He mistook her silence, and his words were intended 
 to reassure her. 
 
 " I must not be unarmed, my Janet, if possible. I must have 
 something with which to defend myself, or the veriest trumpet 
 er in the troop may destroy me at odds with his own instru 
 ment." 
 
 The youth wrote briefly his directions to Witherspoon 
 described his situation his prospect of escape the route 
 which he was to take, and the dangers which attended it. This 
 done, Janet immediately sought out Scipio, in whose skill. 
 courage, and fidelity, Mellichampe placed the utmost confi 
 dence. Before giving him his instructions, she strove in the 
 most earnest language, to impress upon him the necessity of 
 the utmost caution. Of this there was little need. Scipio was 
 a negro among a thousand ; one of those adroit agents who 
 quickly understand and readily meet emergencies; one who 
 never could be thrown from his guard by any surprise, and 
 who, in the practice of the utmost dissimulation, yet wore upon 
 his countenace all the expression of candor and simplicity. 
 Add to this, that he loved his master and his master s daughter 
 with a fondness which would have maintained him faith t nl, 
 through torture, to his trust, and we have the character of the 
 messenger which the urgencies of his situation had determined 
 Mellichampe to employ. 
 
 The difficulties in the way of Scipio were neither few nor 
 inconsiderable. He was first to make hisi way, without search 
 
352 MKLLICHAMl K. 
 
 or interruption, beyond the line of sentinels which Barsileld 
 had thrown around the family enclosure. These sentinels wore 
 closely placed, almost within speaking distance from each 
 other, within sight at frequent intervals while going their 
 rounds, and changed frequently. Succeeding in this, the negro 
 was to go forward to the adjoining woods, and make his way 
 on until he happened upon Witherspoon, who was supposed by 
 Mellichampe to be in the neighborhood, or some other of the 
 men of Marion, who could be intrusted to convey safely the 
 paper which he carried, and which, describing Mellichampe fl 
 situation and hopes, suggested the plan and agency necessary 
 for his deliverance. The difficulty, and, indeed danger of this 
 latter part of Scipio s performance, was even greater than that 
 of passing the tory sentinels, since it was important that his 
 missives should fall into the right hands. To be so far de 
 ceived as to place the passwords of Marion s men and camp in 
 other than the true, would be to sacrifice, in all probability, 
 the hardy but little troop of patriots who found refuge in the 
 swamps around. 
 
 Scipio well understood the importance of his trust, and 
 needed no long exhortation from his mistress on the subject. 
 After hearing her patiently for a while, he at length, with 
 some restiffness, interrupted her in the midst of her exhor 
 tations : 
 
 " Da s nough, missis, I yerry you berry well ; you no casion 
 say no mo* bout it. Entylknow dem tory 1 Ef he git any 
 ting out of Scip, he do more dan he fadder and granfadder eb- 
 ber speck for do. He s a mean nigger, Miss Janet, can t trow 
 dus in the eye of dem poor buckrah, for it s only dem poor 
 buckralf dat ebber tu n tory. Let urn catch Scip bu ning day 
 light. Kiity my eye open ? da s nough. I hab for pass de 
 sentry, I know dat, da s one ting, enty, I hab to do fuss 1" 
 
 " Yes, that is first to be done, Scipio, and you know how 
 close they are all around us. I know not how you will suc 
 ceed." 
 
 " Nebber you mind, Miss Jennet ; I know dem sentry ; whay 
 lie gnine git gumption for double up Scio in lie I urn and fore 
 finger, I wonder ? D,i lory ain t born yet for sich ting, and i 
 
SCIPIO SET ON TRACK. 353 
 
 ain t fraid em. Well speck I gone through dem sentry, I 
 catch the clean woods, and I can laugh out, wlia den?" 
 
 " Why, then you must look out for Mr. Withcrspoon." 
 
 " Masser Wedderspoon. why you no call urn Tumbrcrew, 
 like udder people ? Well, I hah look for urn ; spose I no ii 
 om, wha den ?" 
 
 " You must look out, then, for some other of Marion s men , 
 and this, Scipio, is the difficulty." 
 
 " Wha make him difficulty more dan ladder, I wonder ? * 
 responded the confident negro. 
 
 " Because, Scipio, if the passwords get into the possession of 
 any of the British or lories if you happen to mistake and 
 
 " Gor-a n iighty, Miss Jennet, you only now for mak quaint- 
 an wid Scipio? You link I fool blind like ground-mole, 
 and rooting long in de ploughed ground widout looking wed- 
 der I guine straight or crooked ? You spose I don t know 
 tory from gernpleman? I hab sign and mark for know em, 
 jist d<3 same as I know Mass Ernest brand on he cattle from 
 old maussa s." 
 
 " Weil, Scipio, I trust in your knowledge and your love for 
 me." 
 
 "Da s a missis --da s a trute, missis, wha I say I speck 
 if ebbarybody bin Hb you like Scip arid Mass Mellichampe, 
 you git inoro Inb in dis life dan you can ebber carry wid you 
 to Heabheii. lie keep you down from Heabben da s a 
 God s trute, missis --so much lub as you git on dis airt . But 
 dis is all noting b ;t talk and cabbage. You mus hab meat 
 and sarbice I know dat. I guine I ready when ebber you 
 tell me ; but s pose, when I gone, old maussa call for me. He 
 will call for me, I know dat; he can t do widout me; and he 
 bery hex if you no talk to um and tell um Scip gone upon 
 transactions and degagements, young missis." 
 
 " Don t let that trouble you, Scip ; I will speak to my father 
 when you are going; but it is not time for you to go yet; 
 something more is to be done, and we must wait until night 
 before you can set forth." 
 
 " Berry well ; whenebber you ay de word, missis, Scip 
 ready." 
 
354 MELLICHAMPK. 
 
 The faithful negro took readily the instructions given him 
 in th\r fullest scope. He comprehended, so far as it was 
 f:ou^ht advisable to trust him with the scheme, the nature of 
 the proposed adventure. He was fully informed on all the 
 part he himself was required to play, and was prepared to 
 communicate freely to the woodman. Advising and imploring 
 to the last, the maiden dismissed him from her presence to put 
 himself in readiness for his nocturnal journey, with a spirit full 
 <>/ trembling, and many an inaudible but fervent prayer, from 
 * bottom of her heart, to Heaven. 
 
SWAMP STRATEGICS. 365 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 SWAMP STRATEGICS. 
 
 BLONAY, as we have seen, had proceeded, after leaving the 
 tory captain, upon his old mission as the avenger of blood. 
 Night after night, day after day, he had gone upon the track 
 of his enemy, and, as yet, without success. But this did not 
 lessen his activity and hope ; and we find him again, with un 
 diminished industry, treading the old thicket which led to the 
 camp of Marion. Let us also proceed in the same direction, 
 and penetrate the gloomy swamp and dense woodland recess 
 which sheltered the little army of the lurking partisan. The 
 pomp and circumstance of war the martial music the gor 
 geous uniform the bright armor of a systematic array of 
 military power, were there almost entirely wanting. The 
 movements of the partisan were conducted without beat of 
 drum* or bray of trumpet. In the silent goings on of the night 
 his movements were effected. Mysterious shadows paced the 
 woods amid kindred shadows; and, like so many ghosts troop 
 ing forth from unhallowed graves, the men of Marion sallied 
 out in the hour of intensest gloom, for the terror of that many- 
 armed tyrant who was overshadowing the land with his legions 
 
 Never was a warfare so completely one of art and stratagem 
 as that which Marion carried on. Quick in the perception of 
 all natural advantages which his native country presented for 
 such a warfare, he was not less prompt in availing himself of 
 their use and application. Hardy and able to endure every 
 privation arid all fatigue, he taught his men to dwell in regions 
 where the citizen must have perished, and to move with an 
 alacrity which the slower tactics of European warfare could 
 never have conceived of. In his camp the men soon learned 
 
MKLLICIIAMPK. 
 
 to convert their very necessities into sources of knowledge and 
 of independence. The bitter of the acorn soon ceased to offend 
 tlicir appetites and tastes. The difficulties of their progress 
 through buslies and briers soon taught them a hardiness and 
 capacity to endure, which led them, after no long period of 
 initiation, to delight in all the necessities of their situation, 
 and to rejoice at the sudden whisper which, at midnight, 
 aroused them from their slumbers under the green-wood tree, 
 to sally forth by moonlight to dart upon the new-forming camp 
 of the marauding tory or unsuspecting Briton. 
 
 It was the morning of that day on which Blonay had made 
 his communication to Barsfield, announcing the acceptance by 
 Janet Berkeley of his offer to aid in the escape of Mellichampe. 
 The camp of the " swamp-fox" lay in the stillest repose. The 
 spacious amphitheatre was filled up with the forms of slumber 
 ing men. The saddle of the trooper formed a pillow, con 
 venient for transfer to the back of the noble steed that stood 
 fastened in the shelter of another tree close behind him, the 
 bridle being above him in the branches. The watchful senti: 
 nel paced his round slowly on the edge of the swamp, looking 
 silently and thoughtful in the deep turbid waters of the river. 
 No word, no whisper, broke the general stillness and the 
 moments were speeding fast on their progress which should 
 usher in the dawn. At length the stillness was broken. The 
 tramp of a steed beat heavily upon the miry ooze which gir 
 dled the island, and, soon following, the clear challenge of the 
 sentry arrested the progress of the approaching horseman. 
 
 "Who goes there?" was the prompt demand. The answer 
 was given. 
 
 "Dorchester!" The scout entered the lines and proceeded 
 on foot to the little clump of trees which had been devoted to 
 Marion. The new-comer made but little noise; yet, accus 
 tomed to continual alarms, and sleeping, as it was the boast 
 of Marion s men, with an ear ever open and one foot always in 
 stirrup, the sound was quite sufficient to raise many a head 
 from its pillow, and to persuade many an eye to strain through 
 the gloom and shadow of all objects around, to catch a glimpse 
 of the person, and, if possible, guess the object of his visit 
 
SWAMP STBATEGICS. 357 
 
 Here and there a whisper of inquiry assailed him as he passed 
 along; and, half asleep and half awake, but still thoughtful of 
 one leading topic of most interest with him, one well-known 
 voice grumbled forth an inquiry after the provision-wagons, 
 and growled himself to sleep again as he received no reply. 
 A full half-hour, perhaps, had elapsed before the visiter came 
 forth from the presence of Marion to the spot of general en 
 campment. Thence he proceeded to a tree that stood by 
 itself on the verge of the island, where lie found a group of 
 three persons huddled up together, and still engaged in a 
 slumber which seemed silent enough with all, though scarcely 
 very deep or perfect with any. One of the three started up 
 as the person approached, and hastily demanded the name of 
 the intruder. The voice of the inquirer was that of Thumb 
 screw, and his gigantic frame was soon uplifted as the respond 
 ent announced himself as Humphries. 
 
 "Come with me, Witherspoon I want you," said the 
 trooper. 
 
 "Wait a bit, till I pull up my suspenders, and find rny frog- 
 sticker, which has somehow tumbled out of the belt," was the 
 reply. 
 
 A few moments sufficed to enable him to effect both objects, 
 and the two emerged from the shelter of the tree together. 
 Day was dawning as they gained the skirts of the island 
 where Humphries had fastened his horse, and where they 
 were, in great part, free from the observation of their comrades, 
 who were now starting up from their slumbers on every side. 
 When they had reached this point, Humphries, without further 
 preliminary, unfolded his business to his companion. 
 
 "Thumby old fellow I m hunted, and need your help." 
 
 "Hunted? how by whom?" 
 
 "By a scoundrel that seeks my life a fellow from Dor 
 chester, named Blonay." 
 
 "Blonay Blonay I never heard that name before." 
 
 " Goggle, then ; that s the nickname he goes by. You ve 
 heard John Davis speak of him. I happened to ride over his 
 old mother the time of that brush at Dorchester, when Major 
 
358 MKLUCIIAMI K. 
 
 Singleton got Colonel Walton out of the cart, and he s been 
 hunting me ever since." 
 
 " The d 1 ! But how could he find you out ? how could 
 he track you so?" 
 
 " That s the wonder ; hut the fellow s got Indian hlood in 
 him, and there s no telling where he can t go. He s as keen 
 upon trail as a bloodhound." 
 
 " Have you seen him ? How do you know he s on trail ?" 
 
 "I haven t seen him? but I know he s been after rne for 
 some time." And Humphries then reminded the inquirer of 
 the pursuit of Blonay from the very skirts of the camp, when, 
 to save himself, the half-breed slew his own dog, which had 
 led to his detection, and so nearly to his capture. 
 
 "And why do you think that he s still after you? Don t 
 you think the run that you give him then has pretty nigh 
 cured him of his hunt ?" 
 
 " No, no ! The scoundrel will never give up the hunt till 
 he can see my blood, or I draw his. There s no help for it; 
 he will hunt me until I set seriously to hunt him." 
 
 "And you have heard of him lately, Bill?" 
 
 "Ay heard of him felt him ! Look here." 
 
 And as he spoke, lifting the cap from his head, he showed 
 his comrade the spot through which the passage of the bullet 
 was visible enough. Then, putting aside the hair from his 
 forehead, he placed the finger of Witherspoon upon the skull, 
 along which the ball had made its way. The skin was razed 
 and irritated into a whelk, such as a severe stroke of a whip 
 might occasion upon the skin. An eighth of an inch lower, 
 and the lead would have gone through the brain. 
 
 " By the etarnal scratch !" exclaimed Witherspoon, as he 
 felt and saw the singular effect which the shot had produced, 
 " that, I may say, was a most ticklish sort of a trouble. It 
 was mighty close scraping, Bill ; and the fellow seems *o have 
 been in good airnest when he pulled, though it s a God s 
 marcy he took you to have more head high up than o* one 
 side. Had he put it here now, to the right or to the left, I 
 don t care which, and not so immediately and ambitiously up 
 in the centre, he would have mollified your fixings in mighty 
 
SWAMP STRATEGICS. 359 
 
 short order, and the way you d have tumbled over would be a 
 warning to tall men like myself." 
 
 Humphries winced as much from the remarks of Wither 
 poon as under the heavy pressure of his finger, which rambled 
 over the wounded spot upon his head with the proverbia 
 callousness of a regular army-surgeon s. 
 
 " Tis just as you say, Thumby," replied the other, with 
 much good-humor "a mighty close scrape, and ticklishly 
 nigh. But a miss is good as a mile ; and though this shot 
 can t be considered a miss exactly, yet, as no harm s done, it 
 may very well be counted such. The matter now is, ho % w to 
 prevent another chance, and this question leads to a difficulty. 
 How did the fellow come to take track upon me so keenly 
 from the jump? and how has he contrived to keep on it so 
 truly until now ? These are questions that aint so easy to 
 answer, and we must find out their answer before we can fall 
 on any way to circumvent the varmint. I thought at first 
 that he might have got information from some of Barsiield s 
 tories ; but since we ve been in the swamp they can t take 
 track upon us, and only he has done it; for the general now 
 knows that it was this same skunk that show 3d the back track 
 of the swamp to Tarleton, and that he mod certainly found 
 out only by following after me. I ve been thinking over all 
 these matters for a spell now of more than ten days, and I can 
 make little or nothing out of it; and to say truth, Thurnby, 
 it s no little trouble to a man to know there s a hound always 
 hunting after him, go where he will, in swamp or in thicket, 
 on the high-road and every where that never goes aside 
 tnirsting after his blood, and trying all sort of contrivances to 
 e;it at it." 
 
 " It s mighty ugly, sir, that s clear," said his companion, 
 musing. 
 
 " Yet, this trouble I ve known ever since we chased the 
 fellow along the back track, when he cut the throat of hi* 
 dog, which only an Indian would do, to put us off his own 
 trail." 
 
 "It s an ugly bufciness, that s a truth, Humphries; for, net 
 to know where one s enemy is, is to look for a bullet out of 
 
360 MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 every bush. It can t be that some of our men have been play 
 ing double, and have let this fellow on track?" 
 
 " No, there s no reason to think it, for none of them have 
 been always able to find me when they wanted to, and we 
 know where to look for them always." 
 
 "It s mighty strange and hard and what are you to do, 
 Bill?" 
 
 "You must tell me I know not what to do," was the de 
 sponding answer : " I ve no chance for my life at this rate, for, 
 soon or late, the fellow must git his shot. He ll never give up 
 hunting me till he does. It s the nature of the beast, and 
 there s no hope for me until I can put upon his trail, , in.l 
 hunt him just as he hunts me. The best scout will then win 
 the game and clear the stakes." 
 
 " It s mighty sartin, Bill, that he s got some string on you 
 in partic lar : you ve kept too much on the same track." 
 
 "No from the moment I found that the fellow was after 
 me in the swamp, I ve been changing every day." 
 
 " And still he keeps after you ?" 
 
 " His bullet tells that." 
 
 " It s mighty strange. Have you had your nag s hoofs 
 trimmed lately ^ 
 
 " No, they don t need it they re shod." 
 
 " Shod !" 
 
 " Yes, in the forefeet." 
 
 " Well, now, it s mighty foolish to shoe a horse that s got to 
 travel only in swamp and sand ; but I d like to look at them 
 shoes." 
 
 " Come, then." As they walked, they conversed further on 
 the same subject. 
 
 " Where was them shoes put on ?" inquired Thumbscrew. 
 
 In Dorchester, about three months ago." 
 
 "And where was this Ingen fellow then?" 
 
 " I don t know ; somewhere about. I reckon." 
 
 " Show me the critter : I m dub ous all the mischief lies in 
 them shoes." 
 
 And, following Humphries, Thumbscrew went forward to 
 the spot where the horse was tethered. 
 
SWAMP STRATKGlCb. 3G1 
 
 " Lead him <>", .5.1! there, over that soft track jist a few 
 paces. That ll do." 
 
 The busy eye of Witherspoou soon caught the little ridges 
 left by the crack in the shoe, which had so well conducted the 
 pursuit of Blonay. 
 
 " I guessed as much, Bill, and the murder s out, you ve given 
 the fellow a sign, and he s kept trail like a turkey. Look here, 
 and here, and here, a better mark would not be wanted by a 
 blind man, since his own finger could feel it, even if his eyes 
 couldn t see. There it is, and what more do you want?" 
 
 Humphries was satisfied, no less than his companion. Tliey 
 had indeed discovered the true guide of Blonay in his success 
 ful pursuit, so far, of his destined victim. Nothing, indeed, 
 could be more distinct than the impression left upon the sand, 
 an impression not only remarkable as it was so unusual, but 
 remarkable as it occurred upon a small shoe, and seemed inten 
 tionally made to divide it, the fissure forming the ridge making 
 a line as clearly distinct upon the shoe, as that made by the 
 shoe itself in its entire outline upon the pliable sand. 
 
 " Well," said Thumbscrew, after they had surveyed it for 
 several minutes, " and what are you going to do now?" 
 
 " That s what I m thinking of, Thumby, and it s no easy 
 matter yet to determine upon." 
 
 " How ! why, what have you to do now but to pull off the 
 shoe , and throw the fellow from your haunches, Avhich you 
 must do the moment you take him off his track." 
 
 " No, no," coolly responded the other, " that will be making 
 bad worse, Thumby, since to throw him off one track will be 
 only to make him hunt out for another, which we may not so 
 readily discover. A fellow that really hungers after your 
 blood, as this fellow does after mine, ain t so easily to b-.i 
 thrown off as you think. To throw off this scent would be 
 only to gain a little time, and botch up the business that we 
 had better mend. The shoes must stay on, old fellow ; and, 
 as we ve found out that they are guides which he follows, 
 why, what hinders that we should make use of them to trap 
 him ?" .,- 
 
 " How ?" said Witherspoon, curiously. 
 
3(52 
 
 MKLLIOUAMI K. 
 
 " Easy enough, Thumby, if I ve got a friend in the world 
 who s willing to risk a little trouble, and perhaps a scuffle, to 
 help me out of the hound s teeth." 
 
 " Gimini ! Bill Humphries, you don t mean to say that you 
 ain t been my friend, and that I ain t yours ? Say the word, 
 old fellow, and show your hand, and if I ain t your partner in 
 the worst game of old-sledge you ever played, with all trumps 
 agin you, and a hard log to set on, and a bad fire-light to play 
 by, then don t speak of me ever again when your talk happens 
 to run on Christian people. Say the word, old fellow, and I m 
 ready to help you. How is it to be done ? what am I to do ?" 
 
 " Take my track also, follow the shoe, but take care to give 
 me a good start. I will ride on the very route where I got the 
 bullet." 
 
 " What ! to get another ?" 
 
 " No. I will ride in company, and Blonay is quite too cun 
 ning to risk a shot, with the chance of having his own head 
 hammered the next minute by my companion, even if he tum 
 bles me." 
 
 " I see 1 I see ! He will be on your track, and will follow 
 you, as he has done before, in hope to get another chance. 
 That s it, eh ? 
 
 " Yes, he will not be easily satisfied. Nothing but his blood 
 or mine will satisfy any such varmint as this half-breed, who 
 takes after the savages, from whom he comes half way. He 
 will be on the old ground which he s travelled so long, and 
 that I ve travelled ; and he will keep close about me, day by 
 day, and month after month, and year after year, until he gets 
 his chance for a sure shot, and then the game s up, and he ll 
 not rest quietly before. I know it s the nature of the beast, 
 and so I m sure of my plan if you only follow it up as I show 
 you, and as I know you re able to do easy enough." 
 
 " I m ready, by gum, Bill. You shan t want a true hear* 
 and a stiff hand in the play on your side, so long as Thumb 
 screw can help a friend and hurt an enemy. I m ready say 
 the word the when and the how and here s your man " 
 
 " Thank ee, Thumby, I knew I shouldn t have to ax twice 
 and so now listen to me." 
 
SWAilP STRATEGICS. 
 
 -363 
 
 " Crack away," 
 
 " I set off in two hours for the skirts or Barsfield s camp, 
 where I m to put a few owls who shall roost above him. After 
 fhat I take the hack track into the swamp, and John Davis 
 and young Lance will keep along with me. I pretty much 
 ^iiess that this fellow Blonay will not let half an hour go by, 
 after I ve passed him, before he gets upon trail somewhere or 
 other, and fastens himself up in some bush or hummock, wait 
 ing a chance at me when he finds I m going back. If my cal 
 culation be the right one, then all you ve got to do is to take 
 the trail after me, keeping a close look-out right and left, for 
 the fresh track of an Indian pony. If you see that little bul 
 let, foot of a swamp-tacky freshly put down in the swamp or 
 sand after mine, be sure the skunk s started." 
 " I see, I see." 
 
 "Well, when you ve once got his track, we have him. If 
 he finds he s got some one on his skirts, he ll go aside, and 
 you ll lose his trail, to be sure ; but you ll know then he s cither 
 on one side or toder in (lie woods about you ; and all you ve 
 got to do is to ride ahead a bit and go into the bush too." 
 " Good, by gimini !" 
 
 "What then ? Soon as he finds all things quiet, he ll come 
 out of the bush and take up my trail as he did before ; and, if 
 you git a good place to hide in, so as to be concealed and yel 
 to wa tch the road, you can t help seeing when he goes ahead. 
 " That s true; but suppose he goes into the bush again, wha< 
 must I do then ? " 
 
 "Just what you ve done before, the very thing, until he geti 
 to the bayou that opens the door to the swamp. If you can 
 track him that far, you can track him farther; for when he 
 once gets there he li be sure to go into hiding in some corner 
 or other where lie knows I must pass, waiting the chance to 
 crack at me again." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! And I m to try and find out his hollow ] 1 see, 
 I see. It ain t so hard, after all, for I m a very bear in the 
 swamp, and can go through a cane-brake with the best of them 
 We shall have the skunk, Bill, there s no two ways about it 
 If he can keep the track of a horseshoe through mud am! 
 
MELLiUllAMl E. 
 
 mire for a month, hunting an enemy, twont be very hard for 
 me to keep it too, helping a friend : and though, between 
 us, Bill I m mighty conflustered about Airnest, and that 
 d d tory Barsfield, and what to do to help the lad out of his 
 hobbles, yet I m not guine to let this matter stand in the 
 way of yours. I ll go neck and shoulders for yon, old fellow, 
 and here s a rough fist on it." 
 
 A hearty gripe testified the readiness of the one to assist 
 his friend, and the warm acknowledgments of the other. The 
 two then proceeded to make their arrangements for the prose 
 cution of a scheme so truly partisan. In this affair it 
 be proper that we should attend them. 
 
THE COLD TRAIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE COLL) TRAIL. 
 
 THE half-breed that morning had taken a stand i*pon the 
 road side to which he had been long accustomed. The route 
 was one frequently trodden by his enemy. This fact Blonay 
 had ascertained at an early period in his pursuit, ami here, day 
 after day, had he watched with a degree of patient quietude 
 only to be comprehended by a reference to the peculiar blood 
 which was in him. The instincts of the Indian character were 
 his instincts. Hardily to endure, stubbornly to resist, perse 
 vering! y to prosecute his purpose that purpose being a re 
 venge of wrong and indignity all these seem to have been 
 born within him at his birth, and to have acquired a strength 
 corresponding with that of his continued growth and accumu 
 lating vigor. Such instincts are scarcely to be controlled even 
 by education the education which he had received had only 
 made them more active and tenacious. 
 
 The half-breed had little hope, on the present occasion, to 
 meet again with his enemy. The attempt which he had re 
 cently made on the life of Humphries, and which he thought 
 to have entirely failed, would, he believed, have so alarmed 
 the trooper as to have impelled him to seek another route, or, 
 at least, have prompted him to the precaution of taking com 
 panions with him when lie again rode forth. It was with a 
 faint hope, therefore, that he now resumed his place. On the 
 ensuing night he was to effect the escape of Mellichampe, the 
 successful prosecution of which attempt would, he doubted not, 
 result in raising for him a new enemy in the person of the tory 
 captain. About the issue of this adventure he had various mis 
 givings. He questioned the practicability of success, as he 
 
366 MELLTOIIAMPK. 
 
 knew nothing of the design of Mellichampe, and of the despatch 
 which had been sent by Scipio. He was certain that Melli 
 champe would be slain, but he concurred in the supposed pref 
 erence which the youth gave to the mode of dying, in the 
 stroke or shot of sudden combat, rather than by the degrading 
 cord. He was pledged to serve the maiden, and to comply 
 with her wishes was the best mode in his estimation. 
 
 He had concealed his pony, and covered himself by the thick 
 umbrage around him, in his old retreat, when the sound of ap 
 proaching horses called for his attention. With a feeling of 
 gratified surprise he saw his enemy. But he was" accompanied : 
 John Davis rode on one side of Humphries, and Lance Framp- 
 tor on the other all well mounted, and carrying their rifles. 
 
 " How easy to shoot him now," thought the half-breed " I 
 couldn t miss him now but it s no use :" and his rifle lay un- 
 lifted across his arm, and he suffered the three to pass by in 
 safety. To forbear was mortifying enough. The party rode by 
 within twenty yards, seemingly in the greatest glee, laughing 
 and talking. A less cool and wary enemy than Blonay, hav 
 ing a similar pursuit, could not have forborne. The temptation 
 was a trying one to him ; but, when he looked about in the woods 
 around him, and saw how easily they might be penetrated by 
 the survivers, even if he shot Humphries, he felt convinced 
 that the death of his enemy would be the immediafe signal 
 for his own. His revenge was too much a matter of calcula 
 tion too systematic in all its impulses to permit him to do 
 an act so manifestly disparaging his Indian blood, and his own 
 desire for life, and his habitual caution. The cover in which 
 he stood, though complete enough for his concealment while it 
 remained unsuspected, was otherwise no shelter; and, subduing 
 his desire, he quietly and breathlessly kept his position, till his 
 ears no longer distinguished the tramp of their departing horses. 
 
 It was then that the half-breed rose from his place of shelter. 
 Gliding back to the deeper recess where his pony had been 
 hidden, he was soon mounted, and prepared to take the track 
 after his enemy. 
 
 He s gone to place the sentries and send out the scouts 
 He won t have em with him by the time, he gits to the swamp 
 
THE COLD THAIL. DO! 
 
 mid I ll take the short track at the bend and git there before 
 him. Adrat it, that I should have missed him as I did !" 
 
 Thus muttering, he left the woods, and was soon pacing, with 
 the utmost caution, upon ihe road which had been taken bv 
 his enemy. 
 
 Marking his time duly, and heedful of every object upon iho. 
 road, our friend "Witherspoon might have been seen, a little 
 while after, going over the same ground with no little solemnity; 
 II 3 had carefully noted the several tracks made by the horse 
 of Humphries, along with those of his companions, and, step 
 by step, had kept on their trail until he reached the spot at 
 which, emerging from the place of his concealment, the way 
 laying Blonay had set off also in pursuit. The observant eye 
 of Witherspoon, accustomed to note every sign of this descrip 
 tion, soon detected the track made by the hoof of the animal 
 which Blonay bestrode. He alighted from his horse, and care 
 fully examined it; then, entering the woods on that side from 
 which the pony had evidently emerged, he traced out the 
 course of the half-breed by the crushed grass and disordered 
 foliage, until he found, not only where the pony had been kept, 
 but tho very branch to which he had been tethered The 
 brancli was broken at the end, and the bridle, having been 
 passed over it, by its friction, had chafed a little ring around 
 the b.ark. From this spot he passed to that in which Blonay 
 himself had been hidden on the roadside when Humphries had 
 ridden by. His exclamation, as he made this discovery, was 
 natural and involuntary 
 
 " Gimini, if Bill had only know d it, how he could have wound 
 up the animal! Only to think here he squatted, not twenty 
 steps off, and a single leap of a good nag would ha put a hoof 
 on each of his shoulders ! But it ain t all a clear track for 
 him yet. Push is the word ; and, if he don t keep wide awake, 
 he ll larn more in the next two hours than he ll ever understand 
 in a week after. Come, Button, we ll know this place next 
 time in case we have to look after the Indian agen." 
 
 He resumed his course, and with something more of rapidity, 
 as he now discovered that the game was fairly afoot. The 
 track was distinctly defined for him ; and, wherever the foot 
 
CJ03 MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 of Humphries horse had been set down, there, with unerring 
 crtnmty, immediately behind, was tliat of the pony. Excited 
 oy the prospect of the encounter which lie now promised him 
 self, he began unconsciously to accelerate the movements of 
 his horse, until he gained rapidly, without knowing it himself, 
 upon the footsteps of the rider he pursued. 
 
 Blonay had not, however, laid aside his habitual wariness, 
 and the precipitancy of Witherspoon betrayed his approach 
 to the watchful senses of the half-breed. He had himself 
 gained so much upon Humphries as to hear the sound of his 
 horse s tread, and his quick ear soon detected the correspond 
 ing sound from the feet of Witherspoon s horse in the rear. 
 He paused instantly, until assured that his senses had not de 
 ceived him, and silently then he elided into the bushes on one 
 side of the road, availing himself of a deep thicket which 
 spread along to the right. Nor, having done this, did he pause 
 in a single spot and simply seek concealment. He took a 
 backward course for a hundred yards or more, and awaited 
 there in shelter, watching a single opening upon the road, 
 which he knew must be darkened by the figure of the ap 
 proaching person. 
 
 Witherspoon rode on, passed the designated spot, and was 
 recognised by the outlier. But, as it was not the policy of 
 Blonay to be discovered now by any, he did not come forth and 
 remind our friend of their former meeting on the highway. The 
 partisan kept on his way until he missed the track of the pony. 
 There was that of Humphries plainly enough ; but that of the 
 pony was no longer perceptible. He checked his own steed, 
 and rebuked himself for his want of caution. He saw that he 
 must now change his game ; and, and without stopping to 
 make an examination which might startle Blonay into suspi 
 cion for he knew not but that the half-breed was even 
 then looking down upon him from some place of safe conceal 
 ment he rode on a short distance farther, and then sank, liko 
 Blonay, into the cover of the very same woods, though on the 
 side opposite to that which had given shelter to the latter. 
 Here lie dismounted, hid his horse in a recess sufficiently far 
 in the rear to prevent any sounds which he might utter from 
 
THE COLD TRAIL. 369 
 
 reaching tiny ear upon the road, and, advancing to a point 
 sufficiently nigh to command a view of passing objects, sought 
 a place of concealment and watch for himself. This he soon 
 found, and, like a practised scout, he patiently concentrated 
 all his faculties upon the task he had undertaken, and, with 
 all the energies of his mind, not less than of his hody, prepared 
 for the leap which he might be required to take, he lay crouch 
 ing in momentary expectation of his prey. 
 
 Here he waited patiently, for the space of half an hour, 
 in the hope of seeing the pursuer go by. But he waited in 
 vain: the road remained undarkened by a solitary shadow 
 his ears were unassailed by a solitary sound. The half- 
 breed well knew what he was about. Familiar with the 
 course usually taken by Humphries, he did not now care to 
 tread directly upon his footsteps, particularly as such a progress 
 must have placed him upon the same road with that taken 
 by the stranger, whose unlooked-for coming had driven him 
 into shelter. It was enough that he could reach, a mile 
 above, the narrow track which, darting aside from the main 
 road, led obliquely into the swamp. There he knew he should 
 again come upon the track of Humphries, and with that hope 
 lie was satisfied. Keeping the woods, therefore, on the side 
 \\hich he had entered, he stole along among the shadows of 
 the silent pines sufficiently far to be both unseen and unheard 
 by fliose upon the road ; and while the scout lay snugly 
 watching for him in the bush, the subtle half-breed had gone 
 ahead of him, and was now somewhat in advance, though still 
 moving slowly between him and Humphries. Witherspoon 
 was soon convinced that this must be the case, and, throwing 
 aside his sluggishness, he prepared to resume his progress. 
 
 " The skunk will double round us after all," he muttered to 
 himself, " if I don t keep a better lookout. But he sha n t. 
 There s only one way. It won t do to go on sich a trail on 
 the back of a nag that puts down his foot like an elephant. 
 Shank s mare is the only nag for this hunt, and you must keep 
 quiet where you are, Button, till I get back. I can do well 
 enough for a while without you, and you must be reasonable, 
 and be quiet, too." 
 
370 MELLICHAMPB. 
 
 Thus addressing his horse, he tightened the rope which 
 fastened him to the tree, and prepared to continue the 
 pursuit on foot. 
 
 " I can walk jist as fast as that ere pony can trot, at 
 any time, and the skunk that straddles him is too cunning 
 to go fast now. I can outwalk him, I know; and if he 
 could hear Button s big foot, it s more than his ears can 
 do to hear mine." 
 
 Tims reasoning, the scout left his steed, pressed forward 
 upon the*highway, and, with rapid strides, pushed for the 
 recovery of lost ground. 
 
 Blonay, meanwhile, had gained a sight of the person he 
 pursued. Humphries had lingered behind with this very 
 object. As soon as the half-breed heard the sounds of 
 feet above him, and so near the swamp, he sank into the 
 deepest cover and began to prepare himself. He first 
 alighted from his pony, which he led as far into the 
 shelter of the woods as seemed advisable. His own con 
 cealment was more easily effected while on foot than when 
 mounted, and the proximity of his enemy rendered every 
 precaution necessary. The sudden rush of a fleet steed, 
 like that bestrode by Humphries, would have brought the 
 latter upon him long before he could conceal himself, if 
 he happened to be mounted at the time. On foot he 
 pressed forward until he beheld the three and distin 
 guished their movements. Humphries was in the rear, 
 Davis and Frampton were about to enter the swamp, and, 
 indeed, had already done so. 
 
 It was then that Blonay urged the pursuit most rapidly; 
 and, with rifle ready to be lifted to his shoulder the 
 moment the opportunity should offer for its use, he 
 leaped cautiously, in a circuitous route, .from cover to 
 cover, and in the greatest silence, in order to secure 
 a position which might command the pond, through 
 which he well knew the partisans must go before 
 entering the swamp. He was the more stimulated in 
 this object, as he thought it not improbable that, as the 
 companions of Humphries were ahead of him, they might 
 go so far forward as to throw the entire length of the pond, 
 and the intervening thicket (which, thrusting itself up from 
 one side of it, and running far out into its centre, almost en- 
 
THE COLD TRATL. 371 
 
 tirely concealed its opposite termination), between themselves 
 and the enemy he pursued, If this hnd been the case, bis 
 opportunity to shoot down Humphries, and make his escape 
 before the other two could possibly return, would be complete. 
 
 All these conjectures and calculations were instantaneous, 
 and the result of his natural instinct. The image of his suc 
 cess rose vividly before him as he pressed forward to secure n 
 fair shot at the figure of which he momently caught glimpses 
 through the foliage; and, but for the heedful thought of 
 Humphries with whom the present was the life and thought- 
 absorbing affair the opportunity might have been Avon by 
 the vindictive pursuer who desired it. The partisan was suf 
 ficiently observant, however, of all these chances. He knew 
 not that his enemy was at hand, and, indeed, did not think it; 
 but he omitted no precaution, and clung close to his compan 
 ions. They moved forward together into the pond ; and when 
 Blonay reached the edge of it, they had emerged through its 
 waters, and, gaining the opposite side, were out of his reach 
 and sight, and in safety for the present. 
 
 Blonay was a patient enemy no less patient than perse 
 vering. He sank back into cover, and prepared to wait, as he 
 had often done before, for the return of his victim. 
 
 "He goes to place his scouts he will comeback alone," 
 were the muttered words of the half-breed ; and, unconscious 
 that he himself was an object of as close a watch as that 
 which he maintained on Humphries, he coolly sought his place 
 of rest behind a little clump of cane and a thicket of close 
 brier, which formed much of the undergrowth among the 
 gigantic cypresses spreading around him, and formed no unfit 
 ting fringe for the edge of tha swamp. 
 
 Meanwhile, Witherspoon had not been idle or unobservant. 
 He had pushed forward after Blonay with precautions similar 
 to those which the latter had practised ; and, with a speed 
 accelerated in accordance with the due increase of confidence 
 arising from the absence of his horse, he had contrived to gain 
 a point of observation which commanded the entrance to th 
 swamp qi.ite as soon as Blonay, and just when Humphries ar.d 
 his companion?) were about to pass into the pond. At 6rf?t 
 
872 MEL LIC HAM I 1 1-;. 
 
 he saw none but the three companions; but., even while he 
 gazed upon them from a place of shelter by the wayside, and 
 jit the distance of a few hundred yards, he became conscious, 
 though yet without seeing the object, of the approach of soi^e 
 one on the opposite hand. The three disappeared from hi.-, 
 sight, and, as the last sounds reached hie ears of the tread of 
 their horses as they plashed through the turbid waters of ii. 
 creek, he distinctly beheld the person of a man moving lutr- 
 riedly along its margin. In the next glance he saw that i: 
 was the half-breed. 
 
 "I have him here s at you!" he cried to himself, as he 
 raised his rifle. But, before he could pull trigger, his victim 
 had disappeared. 
 
 Vexed and mortified, he was compelled to squat down in 
 quiet in order to avoid being seen ; and, hiding himself closely 
 behind a bush, he waited and watched for a second opportu 
 nity. But this he was not destined to get so readily. While 
 he looked he saw the whole line of canebrake, on the edge of 
 the lagune, slightly agitated and waving at the tops as if 
 under a sudden gust, but ho saw no more of the person he pur 
 sued. In a little while he heard the feet of the returning 
 horses once more plunging through the pond ; and again did 
 he see the cane-tops waving suddenly in front of a grove of 
 huge cypresses, and as suddenly again subsiding into repose. 
 Witherspoon could see no more of the enemy, and, half bewil 
 dered, he awaited the return of Humphries, to unfold to him 
 what he knew and how he had been disappointed. 
 
 Blonay, meanwhile, though maintaining a solicitous regard 
 to his own concealment, kept a no less heedful watch upon the 
 progress of his enemy. He looked out from his cover upon 
 the return of Humphries ; but, as he continued to be still accon; 
 panied by Davis and Frampton, there was evidently no oppor 
 tunity for prosecuting his purpose. He sank back in silence 
 to his place of shelter among the canes and cypresses. 
 
 Witherspoon had again noted the disturbance among the 
 cane-tops, but he failed to see the intruder. It was with no 
 smail mortification that he unfolded to Humphries, as he came, 
 the unsuccessful results of his watch. 
 
THE COLD TRAIL. 
 
 373 
 
 "lie is there, somewhere among the canes; but, d n the 
 nigger, you might as well look for a needle in a haystack as 
 after him in such a place as that." 
 
 "But we will look for .him there!" cried Humphries, dash 
 ing forward to the designated region. The rest followed him 
 in several directions, completely encircling in their hunt the 
 supposed place of Blonay s concealment. 
 
 He looked upon their search in composure and with scornful 
 indifference; but he remained quiet all the while. They 
 hunted him with all the passion of hatred, disappointment, and 
 anxiety. They penetrated through brake and through brier; 
 they tore aside the thickly-wedged masses of cane-twigs an.l 
 saplings; traversed bog and water; pressed through bushes; 
 and encircled trees searching narrowly every spot and ob 
 ject, in the locality designated by Witherspoon, which might 
 conceal a man : but they labored in vain, - hey did not find 
 the fugitive. Yet his traces everywhere met their eyes. His 
 footsteps were plainly perceptible on one or two miry banks ; 
 but the whole neighborhood was half-covered with water, and 
 the traces which he made were accordingly soon lost. For 
 more than an hour did they continue the search, until they 
 wandered from the spot entirely. The quest was hopeless; 
 *nd, vexed at his disappointment, Humphries was compelled 
 to give up the pursuit in the performance of other duties. 
 They had scarcely left the ground, however, before Blcnay 
 came forth from his place of concealment the body of a hol 
 low cypress, divided from the canebrake by a narrow creek, 
 in a portion of which it grew. 
 
 " Adrat it ! they thought to catch a weasel asleep, did they ? 
 I reckon it won t do this time. And now, I s pose " 
 
 The words were interrupted, and the soliloquy discontinue,! . 
 The fugitive stooped to the earth as if to listen, then imics- 
 diately hurried back through the shallow water, and into foe 
 tree where he had previously hidden himself. 
 
874 
 
 MKLIJCIIAMl E. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 HUMPHRIES TitKES THE HALF-HREED. 
 
 HE liad barely attained his place of shelter when Hum 
 phries returned. He returned alone. He had dismissed hi? 
 comrades as no longer essential to his search, and bad deter- 
 iiKiied upon stealing back to the neighborhood where the half 
 breed had been last seen, placing himself in a position to 
 watch him, and l;r ^ring till the latest possible moment, in the 
 hope to see him emerge. The thoughts of Humphries were of 
 the most annoying description. He reflected bitterly on the 
 chances now before him, not only of his enemy s escape, but 
 of his own continued danger. The whole labor of pursuit 
 and stratagem was again to be taken over; and with this dis 
 advantage, that, as they had now alarmed the half-breed, who 
 must have been conscious of their recent pursuit and search, if 
 would be necessary to adopt some new plan of action, and 
 contrive some new scheme, before they could possibly hope tc 
 entrap him. In the meantime, to what danger was his threat 
 ened victim not exposed, since, while effecting nothing toward 
 his own security, the recent adventure must only contribute to 
 tiie increased wariness of his enemy 
 
 Full of these bitter and distracting thoughts, he took post 
 upon a little hillock, which rose slightly above the miry ,snr- 
 f&*s3 which spread all around him. A huge cypress, rising up 
 .from a shallow creek, stood like a forest monarch directly 
 before his eyes. The cane, in which he had pursued so hope 
 less a search, spread away in a winding line beyond the 
 creek, and upon its slightly-waving surface his eyes were fixed 
 in intense survey. 
 
 " It was there there he must be still," he said to himself, 
 
HUMPHRIES TREES THE HALF-BREED. 375 
 
 as he looked upon its dense inclosure. e He will come out 
 directly, when he thinks me quite gone, and when he can 
 hear nothing. I will wait for him, though I wait till sun 
 set." 
 
 He had taken a place of watch which gave him a full 
 view of the Cc^nebrake and the scattered cypresses before 
 it, while his position was concealed at the same time, by a 
 cluster of bushes, from any one emerging from the region 
 he surveyed. Here, squatting low, he prepared his rifle, 
 having carefully prepared an opening for it through the 
 bushes, whence its muzzle might be projected at a mo 
 ment s warning; and, with eyes sharpened by a feeling of 
 anxiety little short of desperation, he lay quietly, the 
 agent of a deadly hate and a shuddering fear, watchful 
 for that opportunity which should gratify the one passion, 
 and silence all the apprehensions of the other. 
 
 While he watched in quiet, he heard a slight noise 
 immediately at hand. Something reached his ears like 
 the friction of bark. His breathings became suppressed 
 in the intenseness of his anxiety. He felt that his enemy 
 was near him, and his hope grew into a gnawing appetite, 
 which made his whole frame tremble in the nervous de 
 sire which it occasioned. The noise was repeated a little 
 more distinctly distinctly enough, indeed, to indicate the 
 direction from which it came. His glance rested upon the 
 aged cypress which stood immediately before him. 
 
 " Could he be there?" was his self-made inquiry. The 
 tree stood in the water. The hollow did not seem large 
 enough above the creek to admit the passage of a human 
 body. "Yet it might be so." He regretted, while he 
 gazed, that they had not examined it; and he regretted 
 this the more as he now saw that the upper edges of the 
 hollow above the creek were still wefc, as if they had been 
 splashed by the hurried passage of some large body into 
 the tree, lie kept quiet, however, while these thoughts 
 were going through his mind, and determined patiently 
 to wait events. 
 
 " He must come out at last/ was his muttered thought, 
 "if he is there, and I can wait, I reckon, jist as long as 
 he." 
 
 Was it instinct that told him to raise his eyes at this mo 
 ment, from the hollow at the foot of the cypress to the shaft 
 
376 MKLL1CIIAMPE. 
 
 of the tree, as it stretched away above ? lie did so ; and, ir* 
 the sudden glance which he gave, the glare of a wide and 
 well-known eye met his own, staring around, from a narrow 
 and natural fissure in the stupendous column some ten feet 
 from its base. With a howl of positive delight he sprang to 
 his feet, and the drop of the deadly instrument fell upon the 
 aperture. But, before he could spring the lock or draw the 
 trigger, the object had disappeared. 
 
 The half-breed, for it was he, had sunk down the moment 
 Humphries met his eye, and was no more to be seen. But lie 
 was there! That was the consolation of his enemy. 
 
 " He is there, I have him !" he cried aloud. No answer 
 reached him from within. Humphries bounded into the water 
 to the hollow at the bottom of the tree, through which the 
 slender form of Blonay had resolutely compressed itself. He 
 thrust his hand into the opening, and endeavored, by grasping 
 the legs of the half-breed, to drag him down to *he aperture, 
 but he failed entirely to do so. A bulging excrescence on the 
 tree, a knob or knee, as it is called, within, served the be 
 leaguered man as a place of rest; and upon this, firmly 
 planting his feet, no effort of his enemy could possibly dis 
 lodge him. To thrust his rifle up the hollow, and .shoot as he 
 stood, was the next thought of Humphries ; but the first at 
 tempt to do this convinced him of the utter impracticability 
 of the design. The opening, though sufficiently large for the 
 entrance of a body so flexible as that of a man, was yet 
 too short to admit of the passage of a straight, unyielding 
 shaft of the rifle s length, unless hy burying the instrument 
 in the water to a depth so great as would bring the lock 
 much below it. The difficulty was a novel one, and for a mo 
 ment the practised woodman was at fault. What was he to 
 do 1 His enemy was within his reach, yet beyond his control, 
 and might as well be a thousand miles off. To leave the 
 tree, to go in search of his companions, or to procure an axe 
 to fell it, would only be to afford an opportunity for the 
 egress and escape of his victim. This was not to be thought 
 upon. He seized his knife, and though assured that by its 
 use he could do no more than annoy the half-breed, situated 
 
HUMPHRIES TREKS THE HALF-BREED. -j < 7 
 
 where he was, and could by no possibility inflict a vital injury, 
 he yet proceeded to employ it. 
 
 "It may bring- him out," he muttered to himself, " it ll vex 
 and bring him out." 
 
 He thrust the weapon up the hollow, and struck right raid 
 left at the feet and ankles of the inmate. But with the first 
 graze of the weapon upon his legs Blonay drew them up 
 contracting his knees, an effort which the immense size of 
 the tree, the hollow of which might have contained three men 
 with ease, readily enabled him to make. Humphries soon saw 
 the fruitlessness of his effort with the knife, and, seemingly. 
 the fruitlessness of any effort which he could then make. 
 In his rage, exasperated at the vicinity of his foe, yet of 
 his seeming safety, he shouted aloud, in the hope to bring 
 back his departed companions. A fiendish chuckle sounded 
 scornfully from within the tree, and seemed to taunt him with 
 his feebleness and fury. He renewed his efforts, he struck 
 idly with his knife within the hollow, until, burying the blade 
 in one of the projecting knobs, it snapped off short at the 
 handle, and was of no more service. Furious at these re- I 
 peated failures, and almost exhausted by his efforts, he poured s 
 forth curses and denunciations in the utmost profusion upon 
 the unheeding and seemingly indifferent half-breed. 
 
 " Come out like a man," he cried to him, in an idle chal 
 lenge ; " come out and meet your enemy, and not, like a - 
 snake, crawl into your hollow, and lie in waiting for his Led. 
 Come out, you skunk, and you shall have a fair fight, and 
 nobody shall come between us. "Sou shall have your distance 
 jist as you want it, and it shall be the quickest fire that 
 shall make the difference of chances between us. Come out, , 
 you spawn of a nigger, and face me, if you re a rnari." 
 
 Thus did he run on in his ineffectual fury, and inipotentiy 
 challenge an enemy who was quite too wary to give *up the 
 vantage-ground which he possessed. The same fiendish 
 chuckle which had enraged the trooper so much before, again 
 responded to his challenge from the tree, again stimulated 
 him to newer efforts, which, like the past, were unavailing. 
 The half-breed condescended no other reply. He gave no 
 
<:>< s MKLLICHAMl K. 
 
 response whatsoever to the denunciations of his enemy , 
 but, coolly turning himself occasionally in his S])acious sheath, 
 he now and then raised himself slightly upon his perch, and 
 placing his mouth abreast of the upper aperture in the tree, 
 gratified himself by an occasional inhalation of the fresh 
 ttir a commodity not so readily afforded by his limited JIG 
 commodations. 
 
 Humphries, meanwhile, almost exhausted by his own fury 
 not less than by its hopeless labors, had thrown himself upo- 
 the bank in front of the opening, watching it with the avid 
 ity of an eagle. But Blonay gave him no second chance for 
 a shot while he lay in this position. He watched in vain. 
 Even as he lay, however, a new plan suggested itself to 
 his mind, and one so certain of its effect, that he cursed 
 himself for his stupidity that did not suffer him to think of it 
 before. With the thought, he started to his feet. Detached 
 masses of old decaying trees, the remains of many a forest, 
 of preceding ages, lay scattered around him. Here and there 
 a lightwood knot, and here and there the yet un decayed 
 branch, the tribute of some still living pine, to the passing 
 hurricane, lay contiguously at hand. He gathered them up 
 with impetuous rapidity. He collected a pile at the foot of 
 the cypress, and prepared himself for the new experiment. 
 Selecting from this pile one of the largest logs, he thrust it 
 .through the water, and into the hollow of the tree, seeking 
 to wedge it between the inner knobs on which the feet of 
 Bl.may were evidently resting. But the half-breed soon be- 
 eame aware of the new design, which he opposed, as well as 
 he could, with a desperate effort. He saw, and was instantly 
 conscious of, his danger. With his feet he baffled for a long 
 time the efforts of his enemy, until, enraged at length, Hum 
 phries seized upon a jagged knot of lightwood, which he 
 thrust against one of the striving legs of the half-breed, and em 
 ploying another heavy knot as a mallet, he drove the wedge 
 forward unrelentingly against the yielding flesh, which was 
 torn and lacerated dreadfully by the sharp edges of the wood. 
 Under the sudden pain of the wound, the feet were drawn 
 up, and the woodman was suffered to proceed in his design 
 
IICMPHKIKS TKKKS TIIK HALF-BBKKI). d I U 
 
 The miserable wretch in the tree, thus doomed to be b.iried 
 alive, was now willing to come to terms with his enemy. His 
 voice hollowly reached the ears of his exulting captor, as he 
 agreed to accept his terms^of fight, if he would suffer him 
 to come down. But the reply of Humphries partook some 
 what of the savage nature of his victim. 
 
 "No, no ! you d d skunk, you shall die in your hole, like 
 a varmint as you are ; and the cypress shall be your coffin, 
 as it has been your house." 
 
 The voice within muttered something of light. 
 
 " It s too late for that, * was the reply. " I gave you the 
 chance once, and you wouldn t take it. It s the worse for 
 you, vsince .you don t get another. Here you shall stay, if 
 hard chunks and solid lightwood can keep you, until your yel 
 low flesh rots away from your cursed bones ! Here you stay 
 till the lightning rips open your coffin, or the hurricane in Sep 
 tember tumbles you into the swamp." 
 
 The voice of Blonay was still heard, though more and more 
 feebly, as the hard wood was driven into the hollow mass 
 wedging mass until all sounds from within, whether of plead 
 ing or defiance, seemed to die away into a plaintive murmur, 
 that came faintly through the thickening barrier, and was 
 almost unheard by Humphries, as, with the knotty lever 
 which he employed, he sent the heavy wedges, already firm 
 enough, more thoroughly into the bosom of the tree. 
 
 His labor was at length completed. The victim was fas 
 tened up securely, beyond his own efforts of escape. He 
 was effectually sealed up, and the seal could, only be taken 
 off by a strong hand from without. Where, in that deep forest 
 recess, wild and tangled, could succor find him out? What 
 hope that his feeble voice could reach the ears of any pas 
 sing mortal ! Tnere was no hope but in the mercy of his 
 enemy, and of that the captive and doomed man could have 
 no hope, even if ne pleaded for his life an idea that never 
 once entered into ms mind. 
 
 His doom was written, and the partisan paused before the 
 tree, and his eye rested on the aperture above. The body 
 ** the imprisoned man was heard to writhe about in hio 
 
380 MKLL1CHAMPE. 
 
 cell. Humphries stepped back, tlie better to survey the apcr 
 ture. In another moment he beheld the blear eyes of his vic 
 tim peering forth upon him, and, firm and fearless as he was, 
 he shuddered at their expression. Their natural ugliness wns 
 enlarged and exaggerated by the intensity of his despair. 
 Before, they had been but disgusting they were now frightful 
 to the beholder. As he looked upon him, the first feeling of 
 Humphries was to lift his rifle and shoot him ; but, as the 
 weapon was elevated, he saw that the half-breed no longer 
 shrank from the meditated shot. On the contrary, he seemed 
 now rather to invoke his death, as even a mercy in that prefer 
 able form, at the hands of his enemy. But his desire was not 
 complied with. 
 
 " No, no. Why should I waste the bullet upon you ? You 
 took to the hollow like a beast. You shall die like one. It s 
 a fit death for one like you. You ve been hunting after my 
 blood quite too long. I won t spill yours, but I ll leave it to dry 
 up in your heart, and you shall feel it freezing and drying 
 up all the time." 
 
 He surveyed his victim as he spoke with a malicious joy, 
 which at length grew into a painful sort of delight, it was so 
 intense so maddening so strange, since it followed a tran 
 sition from the extremest sense of appreciation to one of un 
 looked-for security. His ecstasies at length broke forth into 
 tumultuous and unmitigated laughter. 
 
 The deportment of the half-breed was changed. His fea 
 tures seemed to undergo elevation, and the utter hopelessness 
 of his fate, as he now beheld it, even gave dignity to their ex 
 pression. He spoke to his enemy in language of the most bit- 
 kug asperity. His sarcasm was coarse, but effective, as it ac 
 corded with his own nature and the education of his foe. He 
 taunted him with cowardice, with every meanness, and strove 
 to irritate him by reproaches of himself and his connections, 
 aspersions upon his mother and his sister, in language and as- 
 wurlion, which, among the vulgar, is almost always effectual in 
 irritating to the last degree of human violence. The object of 
 lilonay was to provoke Humphries to the use of the more 
 weapon, which would have given him death without the 
 
IIUMI IIKIKS Th KKS Ti!K It ALF-BMKED. 581 
 
 prolonged torture consequent upon such a doom as that to 
 which he was now destined. But the partisan readily divined 
 his object, and denied him the desired boon. 
 
 No, no, catch old birds with chaff," he replied, coolly, 
 " You shall die as you are. I ll just take the liberty of {tutting a 
 plug into that hollow, which will give you less chance to talk out, 
 as you now seem pleased to do. I ll stop out a little more of 
 the sweet air, so that you may enjoy better what I leave you." 
 
 Thus saying, he threw together a few chunks at the foot of 
 the tree, and, rising upon them, well provided with a wedge 
 estimated to fit the aperture, he prepared to drive it in, and 
 placed it at the opening for that purpose. The desperate H)o- 
 nay thrust one hand through the crevice, in the vain hope to 
 exclude the wedge. But a blow from the lightwood knot with 
 which Humphries had provided himself as a sort of mallet, 
 crushed the extended fingers almost into a mass, and (he half- 
 breed must have fainted from the pain, as the hand was in 
 stantly withdrawn ; and when the partisan drove in the wedge 
 the face of the victim had sunk below the opening, and was no 
 longer to be seen. His task completed, he descended from 
 his perch, threw aside the chunks which had supported him, 
 and set off to find his horse. He was at last secure from the 
 hunter of blood lie had triumphed and yet he could not 
 keep down the fancy, which continually, as he went, imbodied 
 tin; supposed cries of the half-breed in little gusts of wind, 
 that seemed to pursue him; and, when he emerged from tho 
 wood, a strange chill went through his bones, and he looked 
 back momently, even when the gigantic cypress, which was 
 the sepulchre of his enemy, no longer reared up its solemn 
 spire in his sight. It was no longer behind him. It seemed 
 to move before him faster than his horse ; and he spurred the 
 animal furiously forward, seeking to pass the fast-travelling 
 tree, and to escape the moaning sound which ever came after 
 him upon the breeze. 
 
382 MRLLTCIIAMPK. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE SIGNAL. 
 
 THE deed was done ; and Humphries, fatigued by a long and 
 arduous duty on the previous night, and doubly so from the 
 exciting circumstances just narrated, hurribd to his place of 
 retreat and repose in the swamp covert of the partisans. He 
 could sleep now. For a long period his sleep had been trou 
 bled and unsatisfactory. His apprehensions were now quieted, 
 and sweet must be that first s!ep which we feel to be secure 
 from the efforts off a long-sleepless enemy. 
 
 His companions, meanwhile, had the duties of the scout to 
 execute, and each had gone upon his several tasks. Wither- 
 spoon, with whom our course now lies, true to his friend, pro 
 ceeded at once to the woods that surrounded the camp of Bars- 
 field. He maintained a close watch upon the premises in which 
 Mellichampe lay a prisoner. How he knew of the youth s pre 
 dicament may not be said, but certain it is he was informed 
 both as to the nature of his injuries and his condition. He 
 had, probably, lurked in the hollow, or listened from a tree, 
 while an incautious sentinel prattled to his comrade; or, which 
 is not less probable, he had gathered his intelligence from some 
 outlying negro of the plantation, whose address enabled him 
 to steal forth at intervals, in spite of the surrounding sentinels. 
 
 Solicitous, to the last degree, for the safety of the youth, of 
 whose safety, while in the custody of Barsfield, he half-des 
 paired, he availed himself of his duties as a scout to lurk about 
 the neighborhood, in the faint hope to communicate with, or in 
 some other way to serve, the prisoner. Night after night, for 
 a week before the period to which we have no\v r.ome, had lie 
 cheered the heart and strengthened the hope of MeHichamjM- 
 
THE SIGNAL. 883 
 
 with his well known-wnistle. It may 1>e scarce necessary to 
 eay, that the faithful inferior found no less gratification in this 
 sad office than did the youth to whom it taught the unrelaxing, 
 though as yet ineffectual, watchfulness of a friend. 
 
 The dexterity of Witherspoon admirably sorted with his 
 fidelity and courage. Fearlessly did he penetrate the nearest 
 points to which he might approach, without certainty of being 
 seen, of the camp of his enemy. The frequent exercise of his 
 faculties as a woodman, a native ease and self-confidence, and 
 a heart too much interested in a single object to feel any scru 
 ples or fear any danger, prompted him to a degree of hardi 
 hood which, in a less admirable scout, would have been child 
 ish audacity ; but it was in him the result of a calm conviction 
 of his own readiness of resource, and of his general ability to 
 meet emergencies. He knew himself as well as his enemy, 
 and relied upon his own sense of superiority. This confidence, 
 however, seduced him into no mcautiousness. He timed his 
 movements with a just reference to all the circumstances of 
 his situation ; chose his route and designed his purpose well 
 before entering upon it; and, this done, dashed forward with 
 the boldness of the tiger, and the light, scarce perceptible foot 
 step of the wild turkey in April. 
 
 It was night when, after making a circuit around Barsfield s 
 position, and scanning it carefully on every side, he reached a 
 copse at the head of the avenue, where, on a previous occa 
 sion, we found himself and Mellichampe concealed. It was an 
 old haunt, and lie threw himself on the grass and mused list 
 lessly, like one who, after long strifes and a heating exercise 
 abroad, comes home to the repose and permitted freedoms of 
 his own fireside and family. The camp-fires were sprinkled 
 about the woods before him, looking dimly enough in contrast 
 with the pale but brighter gleams of the now ascending moon. 
 The house in which Mellichampe was confined stood a little 
 beyond, but as yet nndistinguishable. The scout lay and 
 mused upon the fate and probable fortunes of his friend, and 
 his thoughts, breaking through the bounds of his own restrain 
 ing consciousness, were framed into words upon his lips with 
 out his own volition. 
 
384: MF.r.UCHAMPK. 
 
 " I could swear lie answered me last night. There s no 
 mistake. Three times it come upon the wind ; first, quick and 
 shrill, to ketch the ear then slow and sad and then quick 
 and shrill agin. Twas a great distance to hear a whistle, but 
 the wind come up jist then, and I m sure I heard it; and it 
 was sich a blessed sort of music, coming from Airnest, that, by 
 gracious! I can t help it I ll go closer agin, and see if I 
 can t git some more of it. It s a sign he s doing better if he s 
 able to whistle, and it s a clear sign he hears me, when he s 
 able to answer. I ll try it agin soon as I see that big fire 
 kindled that burns upon the left, for then I know they ll be 
 busy at the supper. He shall hear me agin, by gimini ! He 
 shall know I ain t forgotten him though, to be sure, there s 
 but little can be done for him yet. Them d d blasted lories 
 are too thick about Barsfield, and the fox must wait and 
 watch a little longer before he can make a break. Gimini! 
 it s hard enough, but there s no way to help it." 
 
 He soliloquized thus upon a variety of matters, all bearing 
 upon this subject; and, had a scout of the enemy been crouch 
 ing among the branches of the tree above him, he might have 
 picked up for Barsfield many a valuable little secret touching 
 the condition and the force of Marion. The faithful Wither- 
 spoon was one of those ingenuous persons who do not hesitate 
 to speak their thoughts out freely, and who, thinking to hirn- 
 ?elf, is yet quite as likely to be confiding and communicative, 
 as if he was really engaged in delivering a message to hie 
 superior. You could have heard from his lips on this occasion, 
 without much striving to hear, what were the general objects 
 of the partisan how he was busy gathering his men in the 
 swamp for the co-operation, in future strife, with the newly- 
 forming army of Greene of designs upon the rapidly-rushing, 
 and perhaps too self-confident, career of Bannister Tarleton ; 
 and, to come more immediately to the interest before us, he 
 might have learned now, for the first time, as we do, of the 
 organization of an especial corps, to be commanded by Major 
 Singleton, having for its object the rescue of the youthful 
 Melliclmmpe, whenever it should be ascertained that he was 
 to be removed to Charleston. This was a primary considera 
 
Tine SIGNA^. 385 
 
 ,ion with the partisan. The tender mercies of a Charleston 
 commandant, and of a board of British officers for inquiry, 
 were well known ; and the sacrifice of the youth was a fear 
 with all his friends, should he not be rescued from the clutches 
 of his foe before his transfer to the scene of trial. Too haz 
 ardous an enterprise to aim at this rescue while the youth lay 
 in Barsfield s well-defended encampment, the partisan simply 
 prepared himself to be in readiness at the moment when a 
 signal from his scouts should apprise him of the movement 
 of any guard of the enemy in the direction of the city. An 
 ambush on the wayside was the frequent resort of warriors 
 who were only too few, too poorly armed and provided, to risk 
 a more daring sort of warfare. 
 
 The camp of Barsfield was soon illuminated by the addi 
 tional fire of which Witherspoon had spoken. As soon as he 
 beheld it he proceeded, cautiously but fearlessly, to pass the 
 intervening road ; then, keeping close alongside of the left or 
 upward bank of the avenue leading to the settlement, he stole 
 along from tree to tree, until he heard the measured tread of 
 tine more advanced sentinels. A necessity for greater precau 
 tion induced a pause. He stole, a moment after, to the edge 
 of the ditch, into which he descended; then, crawling upon 
 hands and knees up the bank, he looked over into the avenue, 
 and distinguished the glittering raiment of the first sentinel. 
 In the distance he beheld a second, with corresponding pace, 
 moving his " lonely round." Resting his chin upon his palm, 
 Witherspoon took a cool survey of the prospect, and did not 
 even withdraw himself into the hollow when the nearest sol 
 dier, having gained his limit, wheeled to retrace his steps. 
 
 " I could nail that fellow s best button now with a sly bul 
 let, if twas any use, and he wouldn t know what hurt him," 
 was the half-muttered thought of the scout as the sentinel 
 approached. The man came forward until he stood abreast 
 of our scout, who buried himself in the long grass as he ap 
 proached ; then, again wheeling, he commenced his monotonous 
 return. It was now the moment for Witherspoon : he gath 
 ered himself up instantly, waited in readiness until the senti 
 nel had gone half of his distance, then, with a single bound, 
 
 1 *7 
 
386 MKLUCIIAMPK. 
 
 leaped down intJ the avenue, and sought his way across. Ills 
 tread was light, wonderfully light, for a man so heavy ; but it 
 did not escape the quick ear of the watchful Briton. lie 
 turned instantly, presented his piece, and challenged. But 
 the coast was clear ; there was nothing to be seen ; the scout 
 had already crossed the road, and was sheltered in the thick 
 copse on the other bank of the avenue. The leaves and hru.^1, 
 were shaken, and the only response made to the challenge of 
 the sentry was the hooting of a melancholy owl, and a noise 
 like the shaking of wings among the branches. 
 
 "What s tlie matter?" cried the companion sentinel, ap 
 proaching the challenger, who had remained stationary in 
 the brief interval occupied by this event. " What have you 
 seen ?" 
 
 " Nothing it s only an owl. These woods are full of them , 
 t,] ie d d things keep one starting on all sides as if the swamp- 
 fox himself was scrambling over the ditch." 
 
 The scout lay close, and heard the question and response. 
 lie chuckled to himself with no little self-complaisance as he 
 \istened. * 
 
 "By gimini!" he half-muttered aloud, "what a poor skunk 
 of a fellow I d be, now, if my ed 5 cation was no better than 
 that sentry s. Not to know a man s hollow from a blind bird s !" 
 
 Waiting a few moments until the guardians of the night 
 had resumed their walk, he at length boldly left the copse, and 
 proceeded without hesitation, though cautiously, still nearer to 
 the house which held the prisoner. 
 
 Meanwhile, full of anxiety, the lovers lingered together. 
 This was the night on which Scipio was despatched in search 
 of Witherspoon, and all their thoughts were necessarily given 
 to his successful management of the enterprise. Well might 
 they be anxious; and how natural was the deep and breathless 
 silence which, for protracted hours, overspread the apartment 
 as if with a dense and heavier mantle than that of night. The 
 arm of Mellichampe enfolded the waist of the maiden. She 
 lay sadly, as was her wont, upon its supporting strength ; and 
 her cheek, with all the confidence of true and unsophisticated 
 affection, rested upon his bosom. She feared nothing she 
 
THE SIGNAL. 387 
 
 doubted nothing at that moment ; for she knew how noble 
 was the heart that beat beneath it. 
 
 Her fears were elsewhere. The fate of her lover hung sus 
 pended, as it were, upon a thread. He was about to seek & 
 perilous chance for life, to escape from a more perilous, and, 
 as it appeared to them, an unavoidable necessity. Upon the 
 cunning of the slave upon his successful search after flic 
 partisans and upon their readiness and ability for the adveii- 
 . me, the life of Mellichampo depended. How many contin 
 gencies to be met and overcome! how many difficulties to be 
 {voided or surmounted! how many dangers to be hazarded 
 and sought! The accumulating thoughts of these took from 
 her all hope. She was no longer sanguine, though her more 
 buoyant lover, in all the eloquent warmth of a young heart, 
 strove to persuade her into confidence. She lay upon his 
 bosom, and wept bitter tears. 
 
 Suddenly there came again to the apartment the faint, dis 
 tant, but distinct sound the whistle of the woodman. Melli- , 
 champc lifted her head from its place of rest, and his heart 
 increased its beatings. His eye brightened ; and, as she be 
 held its glance, her own kindled amid its tears. Again and 
 again did the well-known notes glide into the apartment, and 
 well did the youth know then that his friends were at hand. 
 
 "Hear! hear it, my Janet? He is there it isTVither- 
 spoon it is his signal the same that has come to me, and 
 cheered me, night after night, when you could no longer be 
 with me. Do you not hear it ?" 
 
 The sense of the maiden did not seem so quick as that of 
 her lover. She paused ; and, though her eye had caught a 
 glow from the kindled expression of his, it still seemed that 
 she doubted the reality of the sounds when an appeal was made 
 to her own distinct consciousness. She was a sweet depen 
 dant one who could receive consolation from the assurances 
 of another; but, save in love, who could give little in return. 
 
 "Is it a whistle, Ernest? it seems to me little more than 
 a murmur of the wind ... Ah ! I do I do hear it now it 
 is; it is a whistle." And her head sank, in joy, again upon 
 the manly and aroused bosom of her lover. 
 
388 MKLLTCHAMPE 
 
 " It is he, and all s well if Scipio does not miss him. Janet, 
 dear love, we must see to tin s, Scipio may not yet be gone; 
 and, if not, methinks I can direct him to the very spot whence 
 these sounds come. I know I can. See, dear hark! To 
 the north directly to the north is it not? Ton hear it 
 now there, in that direction; and that is toward the little 
 hay that lies between this house and the avenue. That s just 
 the spot in which a good scout would lurk at such a moment, 
 and from that spot he knows that I can hear his signal. He 
 must be there now ; and if Scipio passes in that direction, he 
 must find him. If not gone, the fellow must go at once, for 
 Witherspoon can t remain long in one spot while in this neigh 
 borhood. The scouts may trouble him. See to it, then, dear 
 Janet see if Scipio be not gone, and send him on that 
 course : and hold me not burdensome, dearest, that I give you, 
 in these dangerous hours, more employment than affection.*" 
 
 " Speak not thus, dear Ernest," replied the maiden, fondly, 
 as she proceeded to execute the mission " speak not thus 
 not thus to me. Are not Love s labors his pleasures always 1 
 does he not rejoice to serve 1 ? I do, I am sure. I feel that 
 my best pleasures are my labors always always when they 
 are taken for you." 
 
 " Heaven bless you, my Janet," he murmured fondly in 
 reply, as his lips were pressed upon her forehead ; " Heaven 
 bless you, and make me worthy of all this devotion." 
 
COW-CHASING. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 COW-CHASING. 
 
 BUT Scipio was already gone upon his mission, and the 
 maiden looked for him in vain. The next fear of Mellichampa 
 was that he should miss the person he sought. Scipio, how 
 ever, though he had left the house, had not yet passed the 
 enclosure. The line of sentinels had yet to he gone through ; 
 and a task, like that we have just seen overcome by Withcr- 
 spoon, had yet to be performed by the negro in crossing the 
 avenue. He had his arts also, and his plan was one aftei his 
 own heart and fashion. 
 
 Creeping along by the fence, which ran circuitously from 
 the house of the overseer to the avenue, and which we have 
 seen employed as a screen to Singleton s riflemen, he reached 
 the entrance of the avenne, though without being able to cross 
 it at the point he made. The sentinels in this quarter were 
 too numerous and close to permit him to attempt it there, and, 
 keeping along the skirts of the copse and under its shade, he 
 moved upward. The soldiers of Barsfield were more watchful 
 without than within ; and, though but a few yards separated 
 the negro, in his stealthy progress, from the pacing sentinel, 
 such was the address of Scipio, that he occasioned not the 
 slightest apprehension. But to cross the avenue, and reach 
 the dense wood that lay on the opposite side, was the work 
 of most difficult achievement. 
 
 To accomplish this, it was the aim of Scipio to pass through 
 a drain which crossed the avenue, and conducted the waters 
 from the two ditches, Avhen overflowed, into a third, by means 
 of which they were carried off into a hollow bay lying some 
 fifty yards distant in the woods. To penetrate the umbra" 
 
390 MKLLlCHAMrE. 
 
 geous copse on one side of tlie avenue to watcli the moment 
 when the sentinel s back should be turned then, dropping 
 down silently into the ditch, to crawl into the drain, the mouth 
 of which was immediately alongside of it, was the scheme of 
 Scipio. 
 
 In pursuance of this scheme, he passed on with all the 
 stealthy adroitness of the wildcat now hurrying, as he found 
 himself too much without tlio cover of the trees now crawl 
 ing forward, on hands and knees, as the clambering vines 
 around him set a firm barrier against undue uprightness 
 and now lying or standing, motionless, as any warning or oc 
 casional sounds reached his ears, from either the camp which 
 he had left, or the woods to which he was speeding. The 
 exceeding brightness of the moonlight rendered increased pre 
 cautions necessary, and gave bitter occasion of complaint to 
 the negro, to whom, like all of his color, the darkness of the 
 night was a familiar thing, and opposed no sort of obstruction 
 to his nocturnal wanderings when the plantations otherwise 
 ware all fast asleep, He penetrated the copse, and, thrusting 
 his sable visage through the shrubbery, looked from side to 
 side upon the two sentinels who paced that portion of the 
 avenue in sight. He duly noted their distances and position, 
 and, receding a pace, threw himself flat upon the bank and 
 crawled downward into the ditch. The mouth of the drain 
 lay a little above him, conveniently open and large ; and there 
 could have been no sort of difficulty, when he once reached 
 that point, of making his way through it into the opposite 
 cover. 
 
 But it so happened that Scipio, in his progress, gave more 
 of his regards to the sentinel, and less to the path immediately 
 before him, than was either prudent or proper. He did not 
 perceive a slender and decayed pine-limb which lay partially 
 over the route he was pursuing. His hand rested heavily upon 
 it in his progress, and it gave way beneath the pressure, with 
 a crack which might have reached the ears of a sentinel at 
 a much greater distance. With the sound, he turned suddenly 
 in the direction of tbe negro. The poor fellow had his work 
 to begin anew. He had plunged, with the yielding branch, 
 
391 
 
 incontinently into the mire, and in the first moment of the 
 accident his entire face had been immersed in its slime. 
 
 However, there was no time for regrets, and but little for re 
 flection. The proceeding of Scipio \vas that of an instinct 
 rather than a thought. He heard the fierce challenge of the 
 sentinel, who yet did not see him. He saw that, in any en 
 deavor at flight, he must be shot ; and to seek to prosecute his 
 scheme would be idle, as the drain lay between him and the 
 advancing soldier; he could not reach it in time to escape his 
 eyes. In boldness alone could he hope to escape ; and, in the 
 moment of sudden peril, audacity is frequently the truest wis 
 dom. He rose upon his feet with the utmost composure; and, 
 without seeking to retreat or advance, exclaimed as he rose, 
 in all the gusto of a well-fed negro s phraseology, with a de 
 gree of impudence which might have imposed upon a more sa 
 gacious head than that of the sentinel before him 
 
 "Look a ere, misser sodger, tek care how you shoot at 
 inau.ssa nigger. Good surbant berry scarce in dis country ; 
 and, when gemplemen hab sarbant like Scip, he ain t foolish 
 nough for sell em. No gould no silber money guine buy 
 Scip; so take care, I tell you, how you spile you pocket." 
 
 "Why, what the h 11, Scip, are you doing there?" de 
 manded the gruff soldier, who knew him well. 
 
 " Ki, Mass Boor am, wha for you ax sich foolish question ? 
 Euty you see I tumble in de ditch ? Suppose you tink I guine 
 (lore o purpose, and spile my best breeches ? You s wrong. I 
 hold on de branch, and de branch breck, and so I tumble. 
 Wha more 1 Da s all." 
 
 " And suppose, Scip, that, instead of coming up to you civ- 
 ily, as I have done, I should have sent a bullet into your ribs, 
 or poked you a little with this bagnet ?" 
 
 " You bin do sich ting, Mass Booram, I say you no gein- 
 pletnan. Nebber gempleman hit nigger if he kin help it ; 
 kaise a nigger s a spectable character wha can t help hcself. 
 Da s a good reason for udder people for no hu t em. Tis only 
 poor buckrah dat does trouble nigger. Scip has ambitions for 
 gempleman ; but a poor buckrah, Mass Booram, he no AVUSS 
 tree copper." 
 
392 MELLICJ1AMFE. 
 
 " All very well, Scipio ; but what brought you here, old fel 
 low ? Don t you know you have no business in this quarter?" 
 
 " Who tell you clat, Mass Booram ? He s ad n fool of a 
 nigger hesself if he tell you so. Wha s de reason I say so ? 
 kaise, you see, I hob business in dis quarter. Let me ax you 
 few questions, Mass Booram, and talk like a gempleman, kaise 
 I can t spect white man when he lib pon gar-broff" 
 
 " Go on, Scip," replied the soldier, complacently. 
 
 " Fuss, den, you know I hab maussa, enty ?" 
 
 " Yes, to be sure ; if you hadn t, Scip, I d take you for my 
 self; I like a good nigger mightily." 
 
 " Spec you does, but da s nothing ; you hab for ax if good 
 nigger likes you. Maussa want to sell Scip, he gib um ticket 
 look he owner ; da s de business. But da s not wha we hab 
 for talk bout. If I b long to maussa, wha he name ?" 
 
 " Why, Mr. Berkeley, to be sure !" 
 
 "Da s a gospel. I b longs to Dick Berkeley dis plantation 
 b iong to Dick Berkeley Dick Berkeley hab he cow, euty, 
 Mass Booram ?" 
 
 " Yes, cow and calf in plenty, and enough of everything 
 beside. I only wish I had half as much, I would not carry 
 this d d heavy musket." 
 
 Ha ! you leff off sodger ? You right, Mass Booram ; sodger 
 is bad business, nebber sodger is good gempleman. He hab 
 for cuss he hab for drunk; he hab for hu t udder people 
 wha sjistas good and much better dan heself. I terra you 
 what, Mass Booram, Scip wouldn t be sodger for de world and 
 all da s in it; he radder be poor buckra any ting sooner 
 dan sodger. A sodger is a poor debbil, dat hab no ambition 
 for spectability : I radder be nigger-driber any day, dan cap- 
 pin, like Mass Barsfield." 
 
 "You would, would you t you d d conceited crow in a 
 corn-field! Why, Scipio, you re the most vainest flycatchei 
 in the country," said the other, good-naturedly. Scipio re 
 ceived the speech as a compliment. 
 
 " Tank you, Mass Booram. You s a gempleman, and can 
 comprehend. But wha I was telling you? ah! Massa hab 
 cow. Wha den 1 Now I guine show y >u wha bring me here 
 
COW-CHASING. 393 
 
 Da s some of you sodger bin guine tief de milk, and breck 
 down de gate of de cow-lot. Wha dent Brin die gone 
 Becky gone Polly gone. Tree of maussa best cow gone, 
 kaise you sodger lub milk- Wha Scip for do 1 Wlia 1 maussa 
 tell um. It s dat is brin me here. I guine look for de cow. 1 
 no bring um home by daylight, maussa say driber shall gib 
 me h-11." 
 
 " And so you want to pass here, Scipio, in order to look 
 after the cattle? Suppose now I should not suffer you to pass, 
 suppose I should send you back to get your flogging ?" 
 
 " Suppose you does 1" said the other, boldly ; " suppose you 
 does, you s no gempleman. Da s a mean buckrah, Mass Boo- 
 ram, wha kin do so to poor nigga. Wha for you guine let 
 maussa gib me h-11 1 I ebber hurt you, Mass Booram ? Tis 
 you own sodger guine for tief de milk, dat s let out Brindle 
 and Becky. Scip nebber let em out. Wha for you no say 
 whip de sodger wha for you say whip de nigga?" 
 
 " It is a hard case, Scip, and you shall pass, though it s agin 
 orders. But remember, old boy, when you bring home the 
 cows, I must have the first milking. You shall provide me. 
 with milk so long as we stay here for saving you from this flog 
 ging." 
 
 " Da s a bargain," said the negro, preparing to depart : 
 " da. s fair. Mass Booram, I bin always tink you was a gem- 
 pieman, dat hab a lub for poor nigga. I kin speak for you 
 after dis." 
 
 " Thank you, Scipio," said the other good-naturedly. " Take 
 piece of gunja he berry good, Mass Booram my wife make 
 em." 
 
 The negro broke his molasses-cake evenly between himself 
 and the soldier, who did not scruple readily to receive it. A 
 few more words were exchanged between them, when, passing 
 the avenue, Scipio hurried forward, and found himself, his 
 chief difficulties surmounted, in the deep bosom of the ad 
 joining woods. 
 
 Free of all present restraint, the tongue of Scipio, after a 
 very common fashion among negroes, discoursed freely to its 
 proprietor, aloud, upon the difficulties yet before him. 
 
 17* 
 
394: MKLLTCHAMrE. 
 
 " Well, spose I pass one, da s noting. Plenty more, I speck 
 scatter bout here in dese woodb , .ncl, ef lie ain t tory wlia 
 den I Some of dese Marion men jis as bad. lie make not ing 
 of shoot poor nigga, if it s only to git lie jacket. Cracky ! 
 wlia dat now ? I Lear someting. Clia ! tis de win only. 
 He liab all kind of noise in dis wood for frighten people 
 sometime he go like a man groan wid a bullet-hole work in he 
 back. Nudder time he go like a pnsson was laughing; but I 
 don t see noting here to make pnsson laugh. Da s a noise now 
 I don t comprehend like de nocking ob old dry sticks to- 
 gedder ; spose its some bird da s flopping off de moschetus wid 
 his wings. It s a bad place in dis woods, and I wonder wlia 
 make dat Dick Wedderspoon lub em so. "Wliay him now," 
 tis like a blind nigga that don t come when you want urn. I 
 no bin look arter urn now, I plump jist pun urn. I no hab 
 noting to ax urn, he sure for answer. I no hab noting to gib 
 urn, he sure for put out he hand for something. He s a " 
 
 At that moment a heavy slap upon the cheek from a pon 
 derous hand saluted the soliloquizing Scipio, and arrested his 
 complainings. The light flashed from the negro s eyes as he 
 turned at this rough salutation. 
 
 " Cracky ! Who da dat Mass Wedderspoon ?" 
 
 "Ah, you rascal you know d well enough. You only 
 talked out your impudent stuff for me to hear, Scipio, cause 
 you know d I was close at hand." 
 
 I sway to G-d, Mass Wedderspoon, I nebber b lieb you 
 been so close. I bin look for you." 
 
 " Why, you numskull, you came a great deal out of your 
 way, for I was behind you all the time. You managed that 
 sentinel mighty well, Scip, I heard the whole of your palaver, 
 and really did believe at first that the cows were off, and you 
 were going after them." 
 
 " And how come you no b lieb now, Mass Wedderspoon !" 
 
 " Because, you were no sooner out of his sight fairly, but 
 you began to go faster than before much faster than you 
 ever did go when you went out into the swamp after cattle." 
 
 " Da s a trute. But you know, Mass Wedderspoon, wha I 
 come out for you know who 1 looking arter!" 
 
COW CHASING. 395 
 
 "No I do not ; but I * r ant to know a good deal that you 
 can tell me, sc the sooner you begin the better. How is Airnest, 
 for the first ?" 
 
 " He mos well ; but here s de paper read em he tell you 
 ebbry ting." 
 
 The scout seized the scrawl, and strove to trace out its 
 contents by moonlight, but, failing to do so, he drew a pistol 
 from his belt, and, extracting the load, flashed the priming 
 in a handful of dry straw which Scipio heaped together. 
 With some little difficulty he deciphered the scrawl, while 
 the negro kept plying the fuel to the blaze. Its contents 
 were soon read and quickly understood. Witherspoon was 
 overjoyed. The prospect of Mellichampe s release, even 
 though at the risk of a desperate fight, was productive to him 
 of the most complete satisfaction. 
 
 " Go back," lie said, after a while, to the negro ; " go back 
 and tell Airnest that you ve seen me, and that all s well. Tell 
 him I ll go my death for him, and do my best to git others, 
 though the time is monstrous short." 
 
 " You guine git em clear, Mass Wedderspoon, from de d d 
 
 hook-nose tory ?" asked the negro. 
 
 " I ll try, Scip, by the Etamal !" 
 
 "Da s a gempleman, But dem little guns da s jist what 
 Mass Airnest want. He must hab something, Mass Wedder 
 spoon, for hole he own wid dem tory. Put de bullet in de 
 rnout of de pistol, I ll carry um." 
 
 " Spose they find em on you, Scip?" 
 
 " Enty I fin em. I pick um up in de path. You tink dem 
 tory guine catch weasel asleep, when he tan* by Scip. No 
 notion ~ob such ting, I tell you." 
 
 The scout gave him both pistols, which the negro immedi 
 ately lashed about his middle, carefully concealing them from 
 .xposure by the thick waistband of his pantaloons. 
 
 "Now go, Scip go back to Airnest, and tell aim I ve set 
 ny teeth to help him, and do what he a:xes. I m guine back 
 now to the boys in camp, and I reckon it won t be too much 
 to say that Major Singleton will bring a smart chance of us tc 
 
396 MELLIOHAMPK. 
 
 do the d dest, by a lectle; that evfcr yet was done to help a 
 friend out of a hobble." 
 
 They separated one seeking the camp of Barsfield, the 
 other that of Marion, which, at this time, a few miles onlj 
 divided. 
 
REMOBSE. 
 
 397 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 / 
 
 REMORSE. 
 
 THE absence of Blonay occasioned no small annoyance to 
 all the leading parties at " Piney Grove." Suspicious of all 
 tilings and persons, the tory captain, who depended for tin 
 prosecution of his scheme upon Blonay s ministry, began if 
 fear that the half-breed was playing him false. Not confidinr 
 to him at first, under a doubt of his integrity, the suspicion ! 
 of Janet and Mellichampe were duly increased by his absence. 
 Neither of these parties seemed to think of the possibility o. 
 evil having befallen him. It was more natural, he was so low 
 and destitute, to think of his evil nature rather than of his hu 
 man liability to mishap. 
 
 But Barsfield made his preparations, notwithstanding the 
 absence of his ally. He had already chosen a certain number 
 of his* more resolute and ready men, to whom certain stations 
 were to be assigned, along where the course of Mellichampe lay, 
 under the guidance of the half-breed. The tory, however, had 
 not communicated anything calculated to arouse the suspicions 
 of those whom he employed. That communication was left over 
 for the last moment. He simply prescribed their places of 
 watch, and commanded the utmost vigilance. 
 
 There was another order given about this time by Captain 
 Barsfield, which had its annoyances for other parties in our 
 narrative. To Lieutenant Clayton was assigned the duty, 
 with a small escort,- of conveying Mellichampe for trial to 
 Charleston, in the beginning of the ensuing week. This order 
 produced some little sensation. 
 
 "And you really leave Piney Grove so soon, Lieutenant 
 Clayton]" was the inquiry of Rose Duncan that evening, 
 
MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 shortly after tea was over, of the hitherto gay gallant who sat 
 beside her. The old gentleman, Mr. Berkeley as had been 
 usual with him for sometime past had retired early. His 
 daughter, as a matter now of course, was with her lover ; and 
 Rose and Clayton as was much the case since the capture of 
 Mellichampe, were tete-a-tete. There was nothing in the words 
 themselves indicative of more than a common feeling of curi 
 osity nothing, perhaps, in the manner of their expression; 
 and yet the lieutenant could not help the fancy that persuaded 
 him to think that there was a hesitating thickness of voice in 
 the utterance of the speaker, that spoke of a present emotion. 
 His eyes were at once turned searchingly upon her face, as lie 
 listened to the flattering inquiry, and her own sank to the 
 ground beneath his gaze. He replied after the pause of a sin 
 gle instant. 
 
 "If I could persuade myself, Miss Duncan, that you shared 
 in any degree the regret which I feel at leaving Piney Grove* 
 though it would greatly increase iny reluctance to do so, it 
 would afford me no small consolation during my absence." 
 
 The lieutenant began to look serious and sentimental, and 
 the maiden recovered her caprice. Her answer was full of 
 girlish simplicity, while her manner was most annoying, arch, 
 and satirical. 
 
 " Well, I do, Mr. Clayton I do regret your going that I 
 do, from the bottom of my heart. Bless me, what should I 
 have done all this time but for you ? how monstrous dull must 
 have been these hours. I really shall miss you very much." 
 
 The lieutenant was disappointed. He had not looked for a 
 transition so sudden, in the voice, words, and manner of his 
 fair but capricious companion ; and, for a moment, he was 
 something daunted. But, recovering himself with an effort, as 
 from frequent intercourse he had discovered that the only way 
 to contend with one of her character was to assume some of its 
 features, he proceeded to reply in a manner which had the 
 effect of compelling her somewhat to resume that momentary 
 gravity of demeanor which had accompanied her first speech ; 
 and which, as it was unfrequent, he had found, in her, rathei 
 interesting. 
 
KEMORSE, 399 
 
 " But I have a consolation in my exile, Miss Duncan, since 
 it is to a city full of the fair; and dances and flirtations every 
 night in Charleston, with the young, the rich, and the beauti 
 ful, should compensate one amply for the loss ay, even for the 
 loss temporary though I hope it may be of the fair Miss 
 Duncan herself." 
 
 " Treason treason a most flagrant rebellion, and worthy 
 of condign punishment," was the prompt reply of the maiden; 
 though it evidently called for no inconsiderable effort on her 
 part to respond so readily, and to dissipate the cloudy expres 
 sion just then coming over her face again. She was about to 
 continue her reply, and, moved by some uncertain feeling, 
 Lieutenant Clayton had transferred himself from a neighboring 
 chair to a seat on the sofa beside her, when Janet Berkeley 
 entered the room. Her appearance produced a visible con 
 straint upon both the parties, and she saw at a glance that she 
 was unnecessary to their conference. She did not seem to re 
 mark them, however ; and, though she perceived that a new 
 interest was awakened in their mutual minds for eacli other, 
 she had no time to give to reflection on this subject; nor, in 
 deed, have we. She left the room after getting what she 
 sought, and returned to the apartment of Mellichampe. Slie 
 had scarcely done so, when Barsfield joined the two, and 
 offered, another obstacle to a conversation which, to both par 
 ties, had promised to become so interesting. 
 
 So much for the condition of things in the camp of the tory. 
 In that of the partisan, affairs were even more promising. 
 Witherspoon reached it in no long time after his interview 
 had taken place with Scipio. lie immediately sought out his 
 superior. Major Singleton was the individual to whom he made 
 his communication : and, through him, the paper sent" by Mel 
 lichampe, and the facts furnished by the scout, were (Inly put 
 in Marion s possession. The words of the chief were few his 
 plans soon laid his decision readiiy adopted. 
 
 "It will do, Singleton," he said, with a lively air of satis 
 faction. " The game is a good one, and only requires to be 
 played with spirit. The plan promises better than that of 
 llorry, since we shall now not only n^ciir Mellichampe, I think. 
 
4:00 MKU.ICIIAMI E. 
 
 -but strike a fatal blow at Barsfield s position. What number 
 of loyalists does Thumbscrew report as in Piney Grove since 
 the 27th ?" 
 
 " Eighty-six have gone in to him since the 27th thirty-two 
 biifoi-e and the troop which he brought, after all its losses, 
 could scarcely be less than twenty five." 
 
 "Making in all " 
 
 " One hundred and forty-three, rank and file." 
 
 "Not too many not too many, major, if we employ the 
 scheme. What say you ?" 
 
 "I think not, general. Barsfielcl will concentrate his men, 
 most probably, on the line over which Mellichampe is to be 
 conducted. That direction we know from this paper. The 
 advantage, is important which it gives us, since we have only 
 to plan our enterprise so as to avoid this fall upon other 
 points of liis cam]), and break in upon his ambush, flank and 
 rear, while avoiding his front." 
 
 "True, Singleton it will be to our advantage in beating 
 Barsfield, I grant you ; but not in serving Mellichampe. If he 
 keeps this line, it will be necessary that we strike a moment 
 before he approaches, and just when he has left the house, or 
 he must fall before our help would avail him, coming in from 
 flank and rear. We must confound the ambush in part we 
 must keep the whole camp of the tory alive by a concerted 
 attack at all points, in front not less than in rear, or we lose 
 Mellichampe, though we gain the fight." 
 
 Singleton acknowledged the difficulty. 
 
 " If," resumed Marion, " if Mellichampe would only think to 
 avoid the track prescribed by his confederate, and force him 
 to go aside upon another route, however slight the variation, 
 it would yet serve us, and we might save him. 
 
 "I doubt not, general, that he will think of this; he is 
 wonderfully shrewd in such matters, though rash and thought 
 less enough in others. I think we may rely upon him that 
 he will." 
 
 * We must hope for it, at least," said Marion. " The affair 
 looks promising enough in all other respects, and we must 
 drive our whole force to the adventure. We have been cooped 
 
REMORSE. 4:01 
 
 up long enough. Go, Singleton, order in your reniute scouts. 
 Get all your men in readiness, and send your lieutenant, Hum 
 phries, to me. I have some instructions for him. I will lead 
 in this business myself." 
 
 Singleton proceeded to the spot where Humphries usually 
 slept, but he was not to be found. Let us account for his 
 absence. 
 
 Humphries, secure of his enemy, excited by the trying scene 
 through which he had passed, and scarcely less so by the 
 novel form of death to which circumstances had prompted him 
 to devote his victim, returned to the camp in a state of the 
 utmost mental agitation. It was yet daylight, and sundry lit 
 tle duties in the camp called for his attention. These he per 
 formed almost unconsciously. His thoughts were elsewhere. 
 An excitation of feeling, which sometimes moved him like 
 insanity, disturbed his judgment, and affected the coherence 
 and the regularity of his movements. In this state of mind, 
 with just enough of consciousness to feel that lie was wander 
 ing, and that he needed repose, he made his way about dusk 
 from the observation of the camp, and seeking out a little 
 bank in the swamp, with which he was familiar, where, he 
 might sleep in secresy, he threw himself under a tree and 
 strove to forget the past. Shutting his eyes, he hoped in this 
 way to shut out all the images of strife and terror which yet 
 continued to annoy him. 
 
 He succeeded in his desire, and at length slept. But liis 
 sleep was more full of terrors than his Avaking thoughts. He 
 dreamed, and the horror of his dreams aroused him. He 
 heard the cries of the victim whom he had buried Avhile ye 
 alive. His dreadful shrieks rang in his ears; and, bursting 
 from their sockets in blood, he saw the goggle-eyes looking 
 down upon him, through the crevice in the cypress where he 
 had last seen them. This was not long to be endured. lie 
 started from his sleep from his place of repose and stood 
 upon his fo.e.t. Had he slept? This was doubtful to him, so 
 vivid, so imposing and real, had been the forms and fancies of 
 his vision. But the night had fairly set in, and this convinced 
 him that he had slept. A faint light from the stars came scat 
 
4-OJ MKLLICIIAMI K. 
 
 teretl and tremblingly through the leaves, that complained IL 
 the cool wind of evening that fitfully stole among them. The 
 moon was just rising, and gave but feeble light. The heavy 
 trees seemed to dance before his eyes; huge shadows stalked 
 gloomily between them, and, shuddering with bitter thoughts 
 and terrifying fancies, the stout woodman, for a few moments, 
 was unmanned. 
 
 " I can bear it no longer," he cried aloud, in his disquiet. 
 I can bear it no longer.* 
 
 With the words he picked up his rifle, which lay upon the 
 -pot where he had lain himself. He felt for the knife in his 
 belt, and, finding that his equipment was complete, he moved 
 away with the haste of one who has fully resolved; saddled 
 hi.s lmrse, which he mounted with all speed ; and, barely 
 replying to the several challenges of the sentinels, he darted 
 forth upon the well-known road. The relentless spur left the 
 stce.l no breathing moment. The thoughts of the trooper ilevv 
 fasti r than he could drive his horse; and, though going at the 
 utmost extent of his powers, the impatient trooper chafed that 
 the animal went so slowly. 
 
 The well-known swamp entrance was in sight; the cane- 
 brake was passed ; and there, rising up in dreadful silence, 
 white and ghostlike in its aspect under the increasing bright 
 ness of the moonlight, stood the tall cypress in which his 
 victim was buried. The steed of the trooper was stopped 
 suddenly so suddenly that he almost fell back upon his 
 haunches. Ilis rider alighted ; but for some moments, frozen 
 to the spot, he dared not approach the object before him. 
 The awful stillness of the scene appalled him. lie strove to 
 listen : he would have given worlds to have heard a groan 
 a moan a sigh, however slight, from the cavernous body of 
 that tree. A curse ay, though the wretch within had again 
 cursed his mother would have been grateful to the senses 
 and the heart of him who now stood gazing upon it in horror 
 and in silence, but with the motionlessness of a statue. 
 
 He recovered strength at last sufficient to advance. He 
 reached the tree. The wedges which secured his prisoner 
 had been undisturbed. He put his ear to the rough bark of 
 
RKMOKSK. 403 
 
 its sides, Init he heard no .sounds from within. lie drew, with 
 desperate hand, the pegs from the upper crevice, and fancied 
 that a slight breathing followed it or it might be the sough 
 ing of the wind, suddenly penetrating the aperture. He called 
 aloud to the inmate ; he shouted with his mouth pressed to 
 the opening; he implored, he cursed his victim: but he got 
 no answer. 
 
 What were his emotions as he pulled, with a giant s muscle, 
 the hard wedges from the hollow of the tree below? He had 
 slain his foe in battle : lie had killed, without remorse, the man 
 who, personally, had never done him wrong. Why should lie 
 suffer thus from the just punishment of a vindictive and a 
 sleepless enemy ? lie felt, but he did not stop to analyze, this 
 subtilty. He tore away the chunks which had fastened the 
 opening, and thrust his hands into the hollow. The legs of 
 the half-breed had sunk down from the knohs upon which they 
 had rested while he was capable of exertion, and they were 
 now a foot deep in the water which filled the hollow. With 
 both hands, and the exercise of all his strength, Humphries 
 succeeded in pulling him out by them. The body was lim 
 ber, and made no effort and opposed no resistance. Dragging 
 him through the water, which he could not avoid, the partisan 
 bore him to the bank, upon which he laid him. 
 
 As. yet he showed no signs of life ; and the labor which his 
 enemy had taken seemed to have been taken in vain ; but the 
 fresh air, and the immersion which he had unavoidably under 
 gone in passing through the water, seemed to revive him so 
 Humphries thought, as, bending over him, he watched his 
 ghastly features in the moonlight. lie tore open the jacket 
 and shirt from his bosom, and felt a slight pulsation at his 
 heart. Never was joy more perfect than, at this moment, in 
 the bosom of the partisan. lie laughed with the first convic 
 tion that his enemy still lived. He laughed first, loudly and 
 wildly, and then the tears, an unrestrainable current, flowed 
 freely from his eyes. The half-breed continued to revive; 
 and Humphries prayed by his side, as fervently as if praying 
 in the last moment of his existence, for the mercy of an 
 offended God. 
 
40* MKLLTCHAMPE. 
 
 He strove in every known way to assist the workings of 
 nature in the resuscitation of his enemy. He fanned him 
 with his cap he sprinkled him freely with water, and spared 
 no means supposed in his mind to bo beneficial, to bring 
 about the perfect restoration of his victim. 
 
 At length he succeeded. The legs of the half-breed were, 
 one after the other, suddenly drawn up, then relaxed he 
 sighed deeply and, finally, the light stole into his glazed 
 orbs, as if it had been some blessed charity from the moon, 
 that now glistened over them. 
 
 As he continued to improve, and with the first shoAv of con 
 sciousness, Humphries lifted him higher up the bank, and laid 
 him at the foot of a shrub tree which grew at hand. He then 
 receded from him to a little distance placed himself di 
 rectly before his eyes resumed his rifle, which he prepared 
 and presented, and thus, squat upon one knee in front of him, 
 he awaited the moment of perfect recovery, which should again, 
 in the consciousness of new life, inform him at the same time, 
 of the presence of an ancient enemy. 
 
 Thus stationed, he watched the slowly recovering Blonay, 
 for the space of half an hour, in silence and in doubt. The 
 scene was a strange one ; and to his mind, not yet relieved 
 from the previously active terrors of his imagination, an awful 
 and imposing one. In the deep habitual gloom of that swamp 
 region, among its flickering shadows girdled by its thick 
 and oppressive silence, and watching its skeleton trees until 
 they seemed imbued with life, and, in the ghostly and increas 
 ing moonlight, appeared to advance upon, and then to recede 
 away from him he felt, at every moment of his watch, an 
 increasing and superstitious dread of all things and thoughts, 
 all sounds and objects, that assailed his senses, however re 
 motely, and roused his emotions, however slight. And as the 
 slow consciousness grew, like a shadow itself, in the cheek and 
 eye of the man whom he had so lately beheld as lifeless, he 
 half doubted whether it was human, and not spectral life, that 
 he now beheld. He had believed that an evil spirit had pos 
 sessed the mangled and deformed frame of the man before him, 
 and was now beginning, with an aspect of anxious malignity, 
 
REMORSE. 4:05 
 
 once mrw to glare forth upon him from the starting eyes -jf 
 the half-breed. 
 
 lie shuddered with the thought, and he felt that his grasp 
 upon his rifle grew more and more unsteady, until at length he 
 almost doubted his own capacity to secure a certain aim upon his 
 enemy, in the event of strife. With this fear, determined, as he 
 was, to have a perfect control over the life of Blonay, whatever 
 might be the movement of the latter, he rose from the spot 
 where he watched, and approached so nigh to the slowly recov 
 ering man, that the extended rifle nearly touched his breast. 
 At that moment Blonay started, raised his head, and, half sitting 
 up, gazed wildly upon the scene around him. His eye caught 
 that of Humphries in the next instant, and he acknowledged 
 the presence of his enemy by an involuntary start, rising, at the 
 same moment, to a full sitting posture, and answering the watch 
 ful glance of the partisan by one of inquiry and astonishment, 
 not less intense in its character than that which he enconn 
 tered. His eye next rested upon his own rifle, which Hum 
 phries had thrown upon the bank, in the full glare of the 
 moonlight, and his body involuntarily inclined toward it 
 With the movement came the corresponding one of the parti 
 san. The muzzle of his weapon almost reached Blonay a 
 breast, and the lock clicked with singular emphasis, in the gen 
 eral silence of the scene, as Humphries cocked it. 
 
 " Stir not, Goggle move a foot, and I ll put the lead 
 through you. It s a mercy I don t do it now." 
 
 Without a word, Blonay kept his position, and his eye met 
 that of his foe without fear, though with the utmost passiveness 
 of expression. Humphries continued 
 
 "You ve hunted me like a varmint you ve pulled trigger 
 upon me I have your mark, and will carry it, I reckon, to my 
 grave. There s no reason why I should let you run." 
 
 He paused, as if awaiting an answer but the stare of his 
 enemy alone responded to his speech. 
 
 "What do you say now, Blonay, why I shouldn t put the 
 bullet into you? Speak now it s only civility." 
 
 " Adrat it, nothing," said the other, drawing up his legs. 
 
 "You re from my own parish, and that s one reason," said 
 
406 MELLICH ..:. :-.. 
 
 Humphries, " that s one reason why I want to give you fair 
 play, and it s reason enough why I don t want to .spill your 
 blood. Answer me now, Goggle, like a man do you want 
 mine?" 
 
 lie paused, but received no answer. He thus proceeded 
 
 " I had you safe enough, but 1 couldn t find it in my heart 
 to take your life after that fashion, so I let you out. Tell me, 
 now, if you can go without taking tracks after me again ? 
 Suppose I let you run suppose I leave you, without troubling 
 you now with this lead, that only waits till I lift this finger to 
 go through your skull will you follow me again? will you 
 come hunting for my blood ? Speak? for your life depends 
 on it." 
 
 " Adrat it, Bill Humphries, you ve got the gun, and you say 
 there s a bullet in it. I m here afore you, and I don t dodge. 
 I ain t afeard," was the reckless and seemingly impatient re 
 sponse. 
 
 "That s as much as to say that you wont promise, and it s 
 enough to satisfy me to my own conscience for pulling trigger 
 upon you at once. But I won t. I ll give you a chance for 
 your life. There sli all be fair play between us. Take your 
 r ifl e there it lies get yourself ready, and take your stand 
 on the edge of the bank, and then be as quick as you think 
 proper, for the first one to cut away will have the best chance 
 for life." 
 
 A visible change came over the features of the half-breed 
 as he listened to this address. His head dropped, his chin 
 rested upon his breast, and, without any other answer, he sim 
 ply raised the hand which Humphries had mashed so remorse 
 lessly with the pine-knot, when its owner had thrust it through 
 the crevice of the tree. He raised it, and in the action showed 
 his enemy how utterly impracticable it was for him to hold the 
 rifle with any hope of its -successful use. Humphries was si 
 lenced, and his o\vn feelings were strongly affected when he 
 actually beheld a tear in the blear eye of the half-breed, as he 
 looked upon the maimed and utterly helpless member. The 
 privation must have been terrible indeed, to extort such an ac 
 knowledgment iron one so inflexible. It certainly was the 
 
REMOKSK. 407 
 
 greatest evil that could have befallen him, to lose the use of 
 the weapon on which so much depended ; and then, what was 
 his mortification to submit to a challenge from a hated enemy, 
 his weapon and his foe alike at hand, unable to employ the one 
 or to punish the other ? 
 
 The rifle of Humphries was lowered as he felt the full force 
 of Blonay s answer. He turned away to conceal his own emo 
 tion. 
 
 " Go !" he cried, " go, Blonay you are free this time. 1 
 must take my chance, and run my risk of your taking tracks 
 after me again. Go now, but better not let me meet you. My 
 blood is hotter at other times than now. I m sad and sorry 
 now, and there s something to-night in the woods that softens 
 me. and I can t be angry, I can t spill your blood. But twon t 
 always be so ; and, if you re wise, you ll take the back tracks 
 and go down quietly to Dorchester." 
 
 Without waiting for any answer, the partisan hurried through 
 the canebrake ; and, with a motion less rapid than that which 
 brought him, took his way back to the camp of Marion, where 
 he arrived not a moment too soon for the most active prepara 
 tion and employment. 
 
 Bruised, enfeebled, almost helpless, the half-breed slowly 
 returned to the tory encampment at " Piney Grove." He 
 appeared before Barsfield at early morning on the day fol 
 lowing that, the circumstances of which we have recorded. 
 His presence quieted the anxieties, as it met the desires, of 
 all parties. 
 
 "Your hand Avhat is the matter with it? why is it bound 
 up ?" demanded Barsfield. 
 
 Mashed It with a piece of timVsr : :- the swamp," was the 
 vuiscrupuious answer of the half-breed, who suppressed all the 
 particulars of his affair with Humphries. 
 
 "Any luck ? met with your man ?" was the further ques 
 tion. 
 
 "No," was the ready answer. 
 
 " You are ready for mine, however ?" 
 
 "To-night yes." 
 
 "At midnight. But you must see Miss Berkeley havg 
 
408 MEUJCHAMPE. 
 
 everN tiling- well understood, so that there will be no confusion, 
 no delay. She does not suspect she seems satisfied?" 
 
 Mighty well pleased." 
 
 " Tis well. Thus, then, you will proceed. The sentine 
 will be withdrawn from the gallery, and you shall have, at (lie 
 hour, another key to the padlock. Guide him forth as soon 
 as possible after the withdrawal of the sentinel: yon know 
 the course ?" 
 
 Yes by the railing, and so on to the avenue." 
 
 "Be particular, and do not leave the track for an instant. 
 Go now I shall be out of the way ; seek Miss Berkeley, and 
 conclude your arrangements with her for to-night." 
 
 The half-breed left him. 
 
 " To-night !" were the only words uttered by the tory as he 
 went toward the outposts, but they were full of import, and his 
 face looked everything which his lips forbore to utter. 
 
ESCAPE- 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 ESCAPE. 
 
 THAT day was spent in arrangements. Barsfield chose his 
 men for the purposes of assassination ; but he did not surren 
 der his secret to their keeping. He was too wary for that. 
 They had their places assigned ; and all that he condescended 
 to unfold to them, by way of accounting for the special ap 
 pointment and the earnest commands which he gave, may be 
 comprised in few words. 
 
 " I suspect," said he, " that there is some treason among us. 
 I suspect the scout Blonay. I have reason to think he pur 
 poses, either this night or the next, to betray the camp to 
 Marion, and to escape with the spy Mellichampe. You will, 
 therefore, preserve the utmost watchfulness upon the posts 
 which I assign you; and if you see anything to alarm you, 
 anything worthy of suspicion, act upon it decisively and with 
 out pause. If you see the prisoner with the scout, spare nei 
 ther put them both to death. To seek to recapture the spy 
 might lose him, and such an event would be ruinous and 
 disgraceful. I trust to you, men you will do your duty." 
 
 In the chamber of Mellichampe, whose fate thus hung upon 
 a thread, the interest, it may be supposed, was not less impor 
 tant and exciting. Concealed in a shawl assumed for the 
 purpose, the maiden carried to her lover the much-desired 
 weapons which Scipio had received from Witherspoon. The 
 message of the trusty woodman was also delivered correctly, 
 and the intelligence strengthened the youth accordingly, and 
 half-reconciled Janet to the experiment which she so much 
 dreaded. 
 
 " This is well this is excellent !" cried Mellichampe, grasp- 
 
410 
 
 MELLICUAHPE. 
 
 ing the pistols, trying tlic charge, and examining their comb 
 tion "this is well; both loaded; good flints: I fear nothing 
 now, Janet. At least, I am ahle to fight I am not less able 
 to destroy than my enemies." 
 
 She turned away with a shudder: but she felt happier and 
 more hopeful as she beheld his exultation. 
 
 Not less busy in the carnp of Marion, the entire force of the 
 partisans was preparing for the assault. Every available arm 
 was required for the service, as the little squad of the " swamp- 
 fox" at this period barely numbered one hundred and fifty 
 men, many of these only partially armed, and some of them 
 who had never been in fight before. 
 
 " Have you had reports from the scouts, Major Singleton ? 
 demanded the general. 
 
 "Not yet, sir. I have sent out Humphries and Withei- 
 spoon, who will bring us special accounts by noon. We shall 
 have time enough then for our movement." 
 
 "Quite quite. This plan of Thumbscrew s is admirable. 
 If the scouts do handsomely, we can put a dead shot for every 
 sentinel on one side of the avenue. It can scarcely fail, I 
 think." 
 
 " Impossible, sir if the action is concerted, and I think 
 we have time enough to make it so. The firing of the tents 
 must follow the first knowledge we have of Mellichampe s 
 movement; and that knowledge, if I mistake him not, we shall 
 have as soon as he leaves the house, for Witherspoon has sent 
 him his pistols. When the alarm is given by the blaze, 1 will 
 charge from the lower bay to which I can get, with all my 
 men, by nine o clock moving slowly, and without detection. 
 With proper firmness, we can not help but succeed." 
 
 " I doubt not we shall do so, major I doubt not that we 
 shall defeat the tory, and I hope annihilate his force; but, in 
 that first moment. I dread everything for Mellichampc. The 
 tory, doubtless, will watch every step which he takes, and he 
 may be murdered the moment after he leaves the house." 
 
 "But it is on one route only that he puts his guard. xv!y- 
 ing on his scout as faithful, he will calculate upon his bringing 
 Mellichampo into his very jaws " 
 
ESCAPE. 411 
 
 "And how know we lliat be is not faithful to his employer? 
 What reason is there to believe him friendly to Melliehampe ? 
 This is my doubt. So long as Barsfield can pay this fellow in 
 solid gold, he has his fidelity." 
 
 " Yes, sir, very probably ; but I scarcely think that Melli 
 ehampe will keep the one track. I rely greatly on his saga 
 city in all matters of this sort, and think that the moment he 
 leaves the dwelling, he will not feel himself bound to follow 
 the lead of his companion." 
 
 " I hope not," was the response of Marion to the sanguine 
 calculations of Major Singleton "I hope not, but I appre 
 hend for him. We must do our best, however, and look to 
 Good Fortune to help us through where we stumble. But no 
 more. See now to your further preparations, for we move by 
 dusk." 
 
 The affair on hand impressed no one more seriously with its 
 importance than Thumbscrew. He addressed Major Singleton 
 the moment after his return, bringing the desired intelligence, 
 which he did at noon. He addressed him to solicit what he 
 styled a favor. 
 
 " But why incur a danger so great, and, seemingly, so unne 
 cessary ? I see no use for it, Thumbscrew." 
 
 "No use! There s use for it, major, and satisfaction; as 
 fjr danger, I m a born danger myself, and I shouldn t be afraid 
 to stand in the way of my own shadow. But I don t think 
 there s any danger, major; to cross the avenue ain t so mighty 
 hard to a man like me, that s played, in my time, a part of 
 every beast, and bird, and crawling critter that s known to a 
 Santee woodman. I can pass them sentries like a gust from 
 a big-winged bird, and so they ll think rne. I can git into 
 that bay without Waking a blind moscheto ; and, once I gits 
 there, I can do a mighty deal now, I tell you, by a sartin 
 whistle which I has, to tell Airnest Melliehampe where to 
 find me." 
 
 The arguments of Witherspoon soon persuaded his superior, 
 and he went alone, long in advance of the partisans, on his 
 individual and daring adventure He gained the bay with 
 the same case and good fortune which marked his progress in 
 
MELLICIIAMrE. 
 
 a similar effort, which we have previously described. There, 
 he waited anxiously, but in patience, the events which were at 
 hand. 
 
 At nightfall the partisans, the entire force of Marion, ap 
 proached "Piney Grove" not so near as to be subjected to 
 any danger of discovery, yet sufficiently so to be in readiness 
 for any circumstance which might suddenly call them forward. 
 In a deep wood, the very one in which Scipio s interview had 
 taken place with Witherspoon, they alighted, and Marion pro 
 ceeded to divide his men into three bodies. To one, under 
 command of Colonel Ilorry, he assigned the task of firing the 
 tents and striking at the main post of the encampment. To 
 another troop, acting simply as cavalry under Major Singleton, 
 1 *ie gave it in charge to attack the rear by a sudden and fierce 
 Dnset, the moment that Horry should commence the affair 
 the firing of the tents being a common signal. To himself he 
 reserved the more difficult, if not more dangerous, task of dis 
 tributing his men as riflemen, in front, along the whole line of 
 the avenue, prepared to commence the attack in that quarter; 
 and, pressing through the avenue having first slain the sen 
 tinels, each man of whom was to be marked out by a corre 
 sponding rifleman to unite with the other two bodies near 
 the bay so frequently spoken of, where it was their hope to 
 be in time to save Mellichampe from the knife or pistol of the 
 prepared assassins. 
 
 This arrangement made, Singleton s troop remounted their 
 horses, and, under the direction of their leader, made a wide 
 circuit around the camp, so as to throw themselves into the 
 thicket lying in its rear. This they gained before the moon 
 rose. The men commanded by Marion and Horry fastened 
 their horses securely out of the reach of danger, and pressed 
 forward on foot to their several stations. The riflemen stole 
 individually from cover to cover, until they ranged themselves 
 along the whole line of the avenue, and looked down upon the 
 pacing sentinels, who walked their rounds all unconscious of 
 the lurking death which lay hovering in dreadful silence, and 
 unseen around them. Each partisan in this way had selected 
 his victim and the "swamp-fox" himself, lying along a little 
 
EBCAPK. 41? 
 
 ditch overgrown with weeds half full of water, lay as secretly 
 and still as ever did the adroit animal whose name had heen 
 assigned him. 
 
 The hour was approaching. Barsfield had set his snare, 
 and was impatient, 
 
 " Go now, and bring him forth," he said to Blonay. " The 
 time is close at hand." 
 
 The half-breed, obedient to his will, left him on the instant. 
 
 "He is mine at last!" was the triumphant thought which 
 the tory muttered at that moment to himself. "The toil 
 will soon bo over, and I shall triumph now I will bathe my 
 feet in his blood." 
 
 He went the rounds of the men whom he had stationed on 
 the watch for his victim. Some were immediately around the 
 house, though not known to Blonay. Barsfield anticipated the 
 possibility of the fugitive s taking another direction than that 
 which he had prescribed. For this possibility he had pre 
 pared. He was resolved that his plan should not fail through 
 want of due precautions. He saw that all were in readiness; 
 and, not remote, he took a station for himself which would 
 enable him, as soon as the deed was done, to gratify himself 
 with the sight of his murdered victim. 
 
 "Hist! hem S" were the sounds that saluted Mellichampe 
 at the door of his chamber. The hour had rome. In the 
 next instant the door was unlocked, and with a fearless heart, 
 having his pistols ready in his grasp, he met his guide at the 
 entrance. 
 
 "Are you Mr. Blonay T was his question, as the darkness 
 of the passage-way did not permit him to distinguish features. 
 The reply was affirmative. 
 
 " I am ready," said the youth. " Lead on." 
 
 " Go not go not, dear Ernest !" cried Janet Berkeley, who 
 was also watchful : "Go not, I pray you ; it is not too late; 
 return to your chamber, for I dread me of this trial. It will 
 be fatal ; you can not escape these assassins, and the night is 
 FO bright and clear " 
 
 " Hush !" he whispered " see you not?" and he pointed to 
 Blonay. 
 
4:1 4- MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 " I know 1 know ; but trust not risk not, I implore you 
 Ernest. Mr. Blonay knows he says that there is danger 
 He told me so but this moment." 
 
 "Nay, Janet; but you are too apprehensive. I know the 
 skill of Mr. Blonay ; he can help rne through the danger, and 
 I fear it not." 
 
 "But, dear Ernest " 
 
 He interrupted her, as, passing his arm about her waist, he 
 bent down and whispered in her ears: 
 
 "Would you prefer to see me hanging from a tree? Re 
 member, Janet, this is my only hope." 
 
 "God help me! God be with you, and save you!" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 He folded her to his bosom, and oh ! the agony of doubt 
 tl.at assailed both hearts at that instant. It might be the last 
 embrace that they should take in life. A mutual thought of 
 this nature produced a mutual shudder at the same moment 
 in their forms. 
 
 "One one more, my beloved!" he cried, as they parted; 
 snd, in another instant, he was gone from sight. She sank 
 down where he left her. Her hands were clasped, and, too 
 feeble for effort, yet too alive to her anxieties to faint into 
 forgetfulness, she strove, but how vainly, even where she lay, 
 fco pray for his safety 
 
THE PINE- KNOT. 415 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE PINE-KNOT. 
 
 IT was with conflicting emotions and an excited pulse that 
 Melliehampe hurried away from the embrace of the maiden, 
 possibly the very last that he should ever be permitted to 
 enjoy. In another moment, and the woods were before his 
 eyes; and he now felt assured that every step which be took 
 from the dwelling must be taken in sight of his enemies. Yet 
 he did not the less boldly descend from the threshold, though 
 he believed that with every movement he came nigher his 
 murderer. He did not deceive himself with idle hopes of the 
 forbearance and tender mercy of his foe ; yet he was resolute 
 to struggle to the last: he was prepared for anything but 
 martyrdom. 
 
 Scarcely had he stepped from the door of the dwelling into 
 the shadow of a little clump of trees that lay before it, when 
 he heard the well-known whistle of Witherspoon. He could 
 not mistake the sounds, and they came with a most cheering 
 and refreshing influence upon his senses. 
 
 " Trusty and brave Jack !" he muttered to himself, as he lis 
 tened, " at least I shall have one true and strong arm to help 
 ine in the struggle. I am not alone." 
 
 The repeated sounds guided him in his progress. He could 
 not be mistaken now in their direction ; he felt certair that 
 they came from the little bay, which he well knew could easi 
 ly conceal the scout so long as it continued unsuspected. He 
 turned quickly in the direction of the sounds. Blonay touched 
 his arm 
 
 " This way, sir," said the half-breed, in a whisper. 
 
 "No, sir, this way !" sternly, but in a similar whisper, re- 
 
416 MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 gponded Mellichampe. " This way, sir, as I bid 
 with me ii> tliis direction, or you die." 
 
 " But, cappin " said the other, hesitatingly. 
 
 " No words I trust you not on !" 
 
 The muttered and decisive language was amply seconded 
 by the action of the speaker. One hand grasped the maimed 
 wrist of the half-breed, the other held in the same moment the 
 cocked pistol to his eyes. Wincing under the pain which the 
 sudden seizure of his injured Jiand by that of Mellichampe 
 had necessarily occasioned, the fierce savage, with the other, 
 grasped his knife, and half drew it from the sheath. But the 
 momentary anger seemed to pass away before he had fully 
 bared it. He thrust it back again, and calmly replied to his 
 irritable companion 
 
 " You can trust me, cappin ; I ll go jist as you tells me, for 
 I promised the gal she s a good gal I promised her to do 
 the best, and I ll do jist as you says. Lead on where you 
 wants to go." 
 
 " No, no, do you lead on, sir ; I will not trust you. To the 
 bay, but keep the trees, and do not show your person unneces 
 sarily. On, sir, the moment you go aside, I shoot you down 
 like a dog." 
 
 The words were of fierce character, and uttered with singu 
 lar emphasis, but still in a whisper. The half-breed by no 
 means relished the manner of Mellichampe, but he muttered 
 to himself 
 
 " I promised her she s a good gal " 
 
 And thus reminding himself of his pledges, he prepared to 
 go forward. 
 
 " Keep close to those water oaks," said Mellichampe to his 
 companion, and he himself sank into their shadow as he 
 spoke. At that moment another whistle, not that of Marion s 
 men, came from the path which they had left. It was answered 
 by another, a few paces distant, on the opposite hand. Melli 
 champe thrust Blonay forward, and they both moved with in 
 creased rapidity along the range of water-oaks, which at in 
 tervals afforded them a tolerable shelter. Again the whistle 
 was repeated, and to the disquiet of the fugitives, it. was in 
 
THE PINE-KNOT. 
 
 stantly answered by some one immediately in front of them, 
 and on the very patli they were pursuing. 
 
 " I reckon they ve found us out " Blonay began to speak, 
 but Mellichampe interrupted him. 
 
 " Silence, sir, no word, but follow me," and the youth moved 
 hurriedly along, still upon the path he had been pursuing, 
 but looking out for his enemy, and cocking his pistol in 
 readiness. A bush parted and waved a little before him, and 
 with its evident motion Mellichainpe darted aside. In the 
 next moment came the shot, and immediately succeeding 
 the report the youth heard a gasping exclamation from his 
 companion, by which he knew him to be wounded 
 
 " Ah ! it s me, it s hit me " 
 
 Looking round, he saw the half-breed fall forward upon 
 his face, but immediately rise upon his hands and knees, 
 and crawl towards a little cluster of bushes which rose close 
 ut hand ; where, with all the instinct of an Indian, even 
 after receiving his death-wound, he labored to conceal himself. 
 
 The case was evidently a desperate one. The youth wa<? 
 surrounded by his enemies; and, unless the diversion of the 
 partisans was made promptly, he felt that he must be, in a 
 few moments, in the power of his murderers. The shot had 
 scarce been fired, and the exclamation of the wounded man 
 uttered, when he heard a rush as of several pursuers from 
 behind. He did not wait, but bounded forward, for he knew 
 that his friends were in front, and to perish in the general 
 combat would be infinitely better than any other hazard. 
 3ut he was not allowed so readily to go forward. With his 
 irst movement from the tree which had covered him at the 
 moment when Blonay fell, the assassin rushed out upon his 
 path, with a recklessness which showed that he believed 
 Mellichainpe to be unarmed. He paid for his temerity with 
 his life ; at five paces, and before he could recover from hio 
 error, the youth shot him through the breast. The man 
 staggered out of his path, and fell without farther effort, cry 
 ing aloud 
 
 ** Tie spy the spy he s gone ! to the bay ! Oh ! I m a 
 dead man 1" 
 
 18* 
 
418 MKLLTCIIAMPK. 
 
 While lie was yet falling, Mellichampe hurled the empty 
 pistol into his face, and drawing the second and last from 
 his bosom, cocked it instantly for immediate use, and hur 
 ried on toward the bay, which yet lay at some little distance 
 beyond him. The rushing and the shouting of the tories, on 
 every hand, informed him of the close watch which had been 
 kept upon his movements. The voice of Barsfield was also 
 heard above the clamor, in furious exhortation 
 
 " The spy has escaped with the half-breed ; shoot them 
 both down let neither escape but fail not to kill the spy ; 
 no quarter to him ! five guineas to the man who kills him !" 
 
 " He is here !" cried one, dragging the still living but mor 
 tally wounded Blonay from the bush where he had concealed 
 himself. 
 
 " Ha! where?" was the demand of Barsfield, rushing to the 
 spot where he lay. Without looking he plunged his sword 
 into the body, and felt the last convulsion as the victim writh 
 ed around the blade. But he spurned the carcass with his 
 foot the next moment, when he discovered that the scout, 
 and not Mellichampe, lay before him. With a fierce shout 
 he led and hurried the pursuit, impetuously dashing forward 
 with all the fury of one who, having been certain of his 
 victim, now begins to apprehend disappointment. 
 
 " Death to the spy ! pursue ! Five guineas to him who kills 
 him ! No quarter to the spy !" 
 
 Such were his cries to his men as he himself pursued. They 
 reached the ears of Mellichampe they aroused him to a like 
 fury. Desperate and enraged, his temper became unrestrain- 
 able, and, though imprudent in the last degree, he shouted 
 back, even as he fled, his defiance to his foes. The whis 
 tle of Witherspoon fortunately reached his ear in that mo 
 ment, and guided him on his flight. His voice, meanwhile, 
 had disclosed the direction which he had taken to those 
 who were now clamorously pursuing him. But the pursuit 
 was arrested at the luckiest moment for the fugitive. The 
 tents were now blazing, and wild cries came from the cen 
 tre of the encampment. Clayton rushed across the path of 
 Barsfield. 
 
THE PINE-KNOT. 
 
 " Stand aside, away ! The spy slay him ! No quarter to 
 the spy !" cried the fierce tory, as he thrust Clayton out of his 
 path, his eyes glaring like balls of fire, and the foam gath 
 ering thick around his mouth and almost choking his utterance. 
 
 " What is all this, Captain Barsfield !" cried the second offi 
 cer, confusedly, to his superior. 
 
 " Get from my path ! Stand aside, or I hew thee down. 1 " 
 was the desperate answer. 
 
 "But the camp s on fire!" said the lieutenant. "The 
 camp s on fire !" was the general cr-y around him. 
 
 Barsfield only answered by pressing forward selfishly pur 
 suing the one enemy, who, in his sight, took the place and 
 preference of all others. Indeed, at that moment, he did not 
 seern to be conscious of any other object or duty than that of 
 arresting Mellichampe. 
 
 "The spy Mellichampe he has seduced the sentinel 
 he is fled there Lieutenant Clayton there in the bay! 
 Pursue all, and kill him. No quarter to the spy!" 
 
 "But the camp " said Clayton. 
 
 "Let it burn ! Let it burn !" His words were silenced 
 drowned in the sharp and repeated shot which rang along 
 the whole line of the avenue. He became conscious on the 
 instant, for the first time ; and now, at once, conceived the 
 nature of that concerted combination which was likely to de 
 fraud him of his prey. Still he did not conceive the assault to 
 be made by any large force. He did not think it possible. 
 
 " A surprise." he said " a mere diversion to help the spy. 
 To the front, Lieutenant Clayton send your loyalists to the 
 avenue! Line the front it will soon be over it is but a 
 straggling squad. Away and leave me for the spy. I will 
 manage him with these three men." 
 
 The coolness of Barsfield seemed to have come back to him 
 as he gave these orders. But his rage was the greater from 
 having been suppressed so long. He pressed forward to the 
 bay with the three men who were with him. He believed 
 that Clayton would soon manage the foe in front ; and he was 
 resolved upon the death of Mellichampe, even if he did not. 
 In another moment, however, he was convinced that it was no 
 
420 MELLICIIAMPE. 
 
 random attack, simply for diversion, from a small sq lad. The 
 clamor was that of a large force, and the repeated and well- 
 known cry of the partisans followed the first volley of the 
 sharp-shooters. 
 
 "Marion s men true blues true hlues ! Hurra! no quar 
 ter Tarleton s quarters ! One and all, Marion s men !" 
 
 " One and all, men !" were the stern, shrill notes that fol 
 lowed the cry. 
 
 It was the sharp voice of Marion himself, and it was heard 
 distinctly over the field: the sound was fitly concluded by a 
 second volley and an increasing uproar. 
 
 "He is there witli all his force!" exclaimed Barsfield ; "but 
 no matter. I can not turn now, and, at bast, Mellichampe is 
 mine. He is here in this bay. They can not help him in 
 season, and he must perish. That dom , I care not if Marion 
 conquers ; we can but become his prisoners." 
 
 These were the calculations of Barf.tield, half uttered as he 
 pursued. Mellichampe was immediately before him. He had 
 heard his shout. The pursuers were now on the edge of the 
 bay which the youth had entered. 
 
 " To the gum-trees, Dexter, and watch that point see that 
 he does not gain the avenue. Keep him from crossing. Pu* 
 in on the right, Beach am ; and you. Mason, go in on the left. 
 Spare him not! Slay him like a dog! No quarter to the 
 spy ! 
 
 These were his rapid orders to his men as they rushed into 
 the close but narrow thicket which was called the bay. 
 
 " But five minutes ! give me that," muttered Mellichampe 
 to himself, " and I ask for no more. But where can "Wither- 
 spoon be ?" 
 
 The next moment he heard the whistle of his friend in a 
 denser part of the bay, and ho hurried with a new joy toward 
 him. 
 
 " There are but three or four; and if we can but join first, 
 we may give them work," cried the youth, pressing forward. 
 But Witherspoon was now already engaged. His voice kept 
 pace in company with his sabre, the clashing of which Melli- 
 chainpe Lard while approaching him. The woodman had 
 
THE PIJSTE-KNJT. 21 
 
 encountered one of the pursuers. The affair, however, was 
 soon over. The man had met a s&bre where he had looked 
 only for a victim. 
 
 " It s one less of the niggers," cried Witherspoon, aloud, as 
 he struck his enemy down with a fatal hlow. " Hello ! Air- 
 nest, boy, where is you?" 
 
 But the youth could not answer. He himself was about to 
 become busily engaged. Barsfield was before him, and be 
 tween him and Witherspoon. Mellichampe had but his pistol s 
 and he determined, as he saw the copse disturbed in front, to 
 conceal his weapon, as he hoped that Barsfield would precipi 
 tate himself forward, as if upon an unarmed enemy, when he 
 might employ it suddenly and fatally. Indeed, he had no 
 other chance for life. In part, his plan was successful. Tlio 
 tory leaped forward with a mad fury as he beheld the youth. 
 His sabre was waving above Mellichampe s head, when the 
 latter sank upon his knee and fired unerringly, but not 
 fatally. 
 
 The ball penetrated the thigh of the tory, who sank down 
 upon him. They grappled with eacli other upon the ground, 
 struggling in a little area where the trees seemed to have been 
 scooped out, as it were, expressly to afford them room for a 
 struggle of this sort. The physical power of Barsfield was. 
 naturally greater than that of Mellichampe, and the recent 
 illness of the youth still further increased the inequalities 
 between them ; but Mellichampe had succeeded in grasping 
 the neckcloth of his enemy, while the latter had a bold only 
 upon one wrist and part of the dress of the former. They 
 were yet struggling upon the ground without advantage to 
 either, when one of Barsfield s men came to his assistance. 
 
 The moment was full of peril to the youth ; but his friend 
 Witherspoon was no less prompt to succor and save, than {lie 
 tory to destroy. He bounded through the intervening bushes 
 in time to neutralize the efforts of the new-comer. A sabre- 
 stroke from the woodman brought him to the ground, and dis 
 abled him from any movement toward the combatants ; but, 
 raising a pistol, even after he Lad fallen, before Witherspoon 
 could help Mellichampe or get out of his way, lie shot him in 
 
122 MELLICHAMPE. 
 
 the side. Before he could draw a second, the woodman cut 
 him down. He had hardly done BO, when a faintness came 
 over the faithful fellow : he leaned against a tree, then sank 
 nervelessly to the ground, 
 
 " It s a tough shot, Airnest, and I can t help you. Who d 
 ha thought it? Ah! it bites! But hold on, Airnest hold 
 on, hoy; the major will soon come to pull you out of the bear s 
 claws." 
 
 " You are hurt, Jack." 
 
 "Reckon I am a bad hurt too, Airnest, if one may tell by 
 the sort of feeling it has." 
 
 Without a word, Barsfield continued the struggle the more 
 earnestly, as he now found himself becoming faint from the 
 wound which Mellichampe had inflicted. The youth himsrlf 
 grew momently less and less able to resist his i oe, and With- 
 erspoon, who lay but a few feet apart, and saw the mutual 
 efforts of the two, could lend no manner of assistance. 
 
 The object of the tory was to keep Mellichampe quiet with 
 one hand, while he shortened his sabre with the other. This, 
 as yet, he had striven fruitlessly to do. The youth, who saw 
 his aim, had addressed all his energies to the task of defeating 
 it; and, when pushed away by Barsfield, had contrived, by 
 the grasp which he still maintained upon the neckcloth of the 
 latter, still to cling so closely to him as to prevent his attain 
 ment of the desired object. While the struggle thus remained 
 doubtful, a new party was added to the scene in the person 
 of Scipio, who came stealing through the bushes. He had 
 heard the clamor in that direction which had taken place at 
 first, and the subsequent silence frightened him still more than 
 all the noise of the previous struggle. He came to gain intel 
 ligence for his young mistress, whose apprehensions, though 
 unuttered ,in language or even in tears, were only silent be- 
 sause they were untterable. 
 
 Witherspoon saw the negro first. 
 
 Ha, Scip nigger is that you? Come quick, nigger, 
 and help your maussa. * 
 
 "Dah him? wha s de matter, Mass Wedderspoon you 
 hurt?" 
 
THE PINE-KNOT. 423 
 
 "Ask no questions, you black rascal, but run and help 
 Airnest: don t you see him there, fighting with the tory ?" 
 
 " Who 1 Mass Airnest fighting wid de tory hey ?" 
 
 The negro turned his eyes, and stood in amaze, to behold 
 the sort of contest which Mellichampe and Barsfield carried 
 on. The tory first addressed him: 
 
 " Scipio, run to Lieutenant Clayton " 
 
 "Run to the devil!" cried Witherspoon ; "knock him on 
 the head, Scipio, and save your master; don t let him talk." 
 
 " Only say de wud, Mass Wedderspoon ; say de wud, Mass 
 Arnest ; you say I mus* knock dis tory V 
 
 " Yes, to be sure," cried Witherspoon, in a rage. 
 
 "If you dare," said Barsfield, "you ll hang, you scoundrel. 
 Beware what you do! fly go to Lieutenant Clayton " 
 
 The negro interrupted him : 
 
 " You tan fur me, Mass Wedderspoon you tell me fur do 
 em, I do em fur true." 
 
 "Do it do it, d nyou! don t stand about it. He will 
 kill Ajrnest if you don t ; he ll kill us all !" 
 
 The negro seized a billet a ragged knot of the heaviest 
 pine-wood that lay at hand and approached the two where 
 they lay struggling. 
 
 "I mos fraid he dah buckrah I dah nigger." 
 
 " $trike him !" cried Witherspoon, writhing forward in an 
 agony of ercitement " strike him, Scip; I ll answer for you. 
 boy." 
 
 " Hole you head .:-.dc3;.% Mass Arnest," cried the negro ; " I 
 feard fur hit you/ 
 
 "Will you dave, Sclcio will you? Strike not, Scipio; 
 you shall Lave your freedom gold guineas," was the sup 
 plicating cry of Barsfield. 
 
 "I no y -/ you, Mass Barsfield: you s a d n tory, 1 
 know. Din daii ;.cy maussa ; I hab fur min* uni." 
 
 While ho sv/oke, he approached and planted one of his feet 
 between the bodies of the two combatants. 
 
 "Turn you eyes, Mass Arnest." 
 
 The heavy piae-wood knot, was lifted above the head of the 
 tory. The eyes of Mellichampe were averted, while Barsfield 
 
MKLLICHAMPE. 
 
 vainly strove to press forward as closely to the youth as pos 
 sible, and once or twice writhed about in such a manner, 
 though the grasp of Mellichampe was still upon his collar, as 
 entirely to defeat the aim of the negro. 
 
 " Tan till I mus knock you, Mass Barsfield." 
 
 " Scip Scipio !" were the pleading tones of the tory, as he 
 threw up his arms vainly. The blow descended and silenced 
 him for ever. The billet was buried in his brains. The skull 
 1 ly crushed and flattened, and but a single contraction of the 
 Jimbs and convulsion of the frame attested the quick transition 
 >f life to death so dreadful had been the stroke. Molli- 
 champe had fainted. 
 
 "Hurra! hurra! Well done, Scip well done! you ve 
 saved the boy. You re a nigger among a thousand !" 
 
 The tones of exultation and encouragement came faintly 
 from the lips of the woodman, who bled inwardly. They 
 fell upon unheeding senses; for the stupefied Scipio at that 
 moment heard them not. 
 
JACK WITIIEESPOON. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 JACK WITHERSPOON. 
 
 THE negro dropped the heavy pine-knot with the blow, and. 
 for a moment stood gazing in stupor upon the horrid specta 
 cle, his own deed, before him. At length, starting away, lie 
 dashed out of the bushes, in the direction of the dwelling, 
 crying aloud as he fled, in tones like those of a maniac, 
 and in words which indicated the intoxicating effect of his 
 new-born experience upon him 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! I kill um I hit um on he head. He s a dirt 
 he s a dirt -I hab foot on um I mash he brains. Ho ! ho ! 
 I kill buckrah. I s nigger I kill buckrah ! You tin k for 
 hang me you mistake. Mass Wedderspoon say de wud - 
 Mass Arnest no say * no. I kill em. He dead !" 
 
 He rushed into the apartment where the family were all as 
 sembled in the highest degree of agitation. The storm of 
 battle^ which still raged around them with unmitigated fury, 
 had tei-rified Mr. Berkeley and Rose Duncan to the last de 
 gree. They appealed to Scipio for information, but he gave 
 them no heed. 
 
 " AVhay s young missis 1 young missis I want. I hab for tell 
 um someting." 
 
 He refused all other answer, and made his way into the 
 adjoining apartment. Janet was at the window that near 
 est to the clamor at which, through another dreadful light, 
 she had watched unhesitatingly before. She started to her 
 feet as she beheld him. 
 
 " Ernest speak to me, Scipio. What of Ernest 7 Where 
 is he ? tell me he is safe." 
 
 " He dead ! I kill urn ?" 
 
126 MKLLlCilAMl Ji. 
 
 She shrieked and fell. The event restored the negro to his 
 senses. He picked her up, howling over her all the wh .le, 
 and bore her to the adjoining apartment, where the care of 
 Rose Duncan in a short time recovered her. 
 
 " Speak to me, Scipio," she cried, rising, and addressing him 
 with an energy which despair seemed to have given her, 
 and which terrified all around "Tell me all what of 
 Ernest? He is not hurt he has escaped 1 You have told 
 me falsely he lives !" 
 
 " I speck so, missis ; tis I s a d n fool fur tell you he 
 been hurt. lie no hurt. Tis Mass Barsfield I been knock on 
 de head " 
 
 " Barsfield ! you !" was the exclamation of all. 
 
 " Yes de d n nigger enty he been hab Arnest pon 
 
 de ground ? he want to tick him wid he sword. I take light- 
 wood-knot, I hammer urn on he head tell you sees noting but 
 de blood and de brain, and de white of he eye. He dead 
 tis Scip mash um." 
 
 " You struck him, Scipio ?" said Mr. Berkeley. 
 
 "Mass Wedderspoon tell me, maussa. Enty he been guim 
 tick Mass Arnest ? When I see dat, I tan look. Jack Wed 
 derspoon cuss me, and say, why de li-ll you no knock um V 
 Well, wha I for do ? Enty he tell me? I knock um fur true! 
 I hit um on he head wid cle pine-knot. De head mash flat like 
 pancake. I no see um gen." 
 
 The maidens shuddered at the narration, but Janet spoke 
 instantly. 
 
 " But Ernest, what of him, Scipio ? Was he hurt ? You 
 have not said, is he safe ?" 
 
 " I sway, missis, I can t tell. I speck he been hurt some- 
 ting. I left um on de ground. He ain t git up." 
 
 " I will go," she exclaimed. 
 
 " Think riot of it, Janet, my child, till the noise is over." 
 
 But she had gone ; while the father yet spake, she had left 
 the room and the house, Scipio closely attending her. The 
 feebleness of age seemed no longer to oppress the aged man. 
 He rushed after the daughter of his heart with much of the 
 vigor of youth, and with all the fearlessness of a proper man 
 
JACK WITIlEKSroON. 427 
 
 hood. In that moment her worth was conspicuous, in his for- 
 geTfulness of all fear and feebleness. lie heeded not the cries 
 and the clamor, the dreadful imprecations and the sharp ring 
 ing shot, which momently assailed his cars in his progress. 
 The fight was still going on along the avenue and in the park, 
 but its fury was abating fast. Mr. Berkeley hurried forward, 
 but soon became confused. His daughter was not to be seen, 
 nor Scipio, and he knew not in what direction to turn his 
 footsteps. While he paused and doubted, he heard the rush 
 of cavalry, like the sweeping force of a torrent coming down 
 the hills at midnight. He could see, in the bright moonlight, 
 the dark figures and their shining white blades. The clashing 
 of steel superseded the shot of the marksmen, and the horse 
 men now evidently swept the field in irresistible wrath. The 
 toriea were flying in all directions, the partisans riding over 
 them with unsparing hoofs, and smiting down with impet 
 uous steel. A group fled toward the house, and came di 
 rectly upon the spot where the old man s feet seemed to be 
 frozen. Timidly he shrank behind a tree, and, as the cavalry 
 pursued, the tories broke, and dispersed in individual flight. 
 One of them, an officer, sank back slowly, and with an air 
 of resolution and defiance in his manner which soon pro 
 voked the attention of a partisan trooper. He pressed for 
 ward, upon the Briton, who turned gallantly and made fight. 
 The huge-limbed steed of the partisan was wheeled from 
 side to side under the curb of his rider, with an ease that 
 almost seemed the result of an instinct of his own. Neither 
 the steed nor his rider could be mistaken. 
 
 "Yield surrender, sir you prolong the fight uselessly 
 Your men are dispersed," were the words of Singleton. 
 
 " Never, to a rebel !" was the response of Clayton ; " never!" 
 and he struck at the partisan with an earnestness and skill 
 as he replied, which showed him that he was not an enemy 
 to be trifled with. The fierce mood of Singleton grew upper 
 most as he witnessed the obduracy of the Briton. His own 
 blows were repeated with furious energy, and the retreat of 
 Clayton wan perforce, more rapid than before. Backing, and 
 fighting all the while, his feet became entangled iu some oh- 
 
.MELLICHAMI K. 
 
 struction behind him, and he stumbled over it without being 
 able to recover himself. He now lay at the mercy of his 
 enemy. 
 
 The courtesy of Singleton effected what his valor had not 
 done. His horse was curbed in the instant which saw Clayton 
 fall. The point of his sabre, which had been directed toward, 
 was now turned from his bosom, and he bade him rise. The 
 Briton bowed, and presented his sword. 
 
 " Oblige me by keeping it, sir," was the reply of the partisan. 
 " Let me see you to the house in safety." 
 
 The only inmate of the house who received Lieutenant Clay 
 ton was Rose Duncan. 
 
 " I m a prisoner, Miss Duncan," said the lieutenant, and it 
 did not pain him greatly to tell her so. 
 
 " Indeed ; I m so glad of it," was the almost unconscious 
 reply. 
 
 Clayton looked grave as she said so, and Major Singleton 
 withdrew, leaving him, however, not so dissatisfied with the 
 general tenor of events as might have been expected. It was 
 surprising how soon he forgot that he was a prisoner, and how 
 readily Rose became his custodier. But this concerns us not. 
 
 In the neighboring court the bugle of Marion called his men 
 together. The battle was over. The victory was complete, 
 and the only concern before the partisans was to ascertain 
 the price which it had cost them. This could not be so 
 readily determined. 
 
 " But what tidings of Mcllichampe ?" demanded Marion. 
 " Have you heard nothing, Major Singleton ? This was your 
 charge." 
 
 "Nothing, as yet, sir; I have dispersed my men in search. 
 It is unaccountable, too, that we have heard nothing of With- 
 erspoon, nor has Captain Barsfield been reported. The com 
 mand does not seem to have been with him. Lieutenant 
 Clayton is my prisoner." 
 
 While they yet spoke, the whistle of Witherspoon a 
 faintly-uttered note, but well known as that of the wood 
 man came to them from the bay. To this point they in 
 stantly proceeded, But Janet Berkeley was there long before 
 
JACK wrniKRSPooN. 4:29 
 
 them. She had outstripped oven the speed of Scipio ; 
 had heard and been guided by the accents of her lov 
 as she entered the copse. 
 
 " Jack, dear Jack Witherspoon, my friend, my more than 
 friend my father speak to me!" 
 
 It was thus that the youth, bending over his prostrate com 
 panion, expressed his agony and apprehension at the condition 
 in which he found him. Witherspoon bled inwardly, and 
 could scarcely speak, as lie was in momentary danger of suf 
 focation. The next moment the arms of Janet were throwh 
 about her lover, whom she found in safety, and she burst into 
 an agony of tears, which at length relieved her. With hei 
 appearance, the strength and consciousness of the wounded 
 woodman seemed to come back to him. He looked up with a 
 smile, and said, feebly, as he beheld her: 
 
 " God bless you, Miss Janet, and make you happy. You 
 see he s safe ; and there s no danger now, for I rether reckon, 
 from what I hear and from what I don t hear, that the tories 
 are done for." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Witherspoon ! what can I do for you? I hope 
 you are not much hurt." 
 
 "Pretty bad, T tell you. I feel all over I can t tell how) 
 and when it comes to that, you see, it looks squally. I m 
 afeard I ve no more business in the swamp." 
 
 " Speak not thus, Jack ; but let us help you to the house. 
 Here, Scipio, lend a hand." 
 
 But the woodman resisted them. 
 
 "No! no!" he exclaimed, " this is iny house the woods. 
 I ve lived in them, and I feel that it will be sweeter to die in 
 them than in a dark little room. I like the green of the trees 
 and the cool feel of the air. I can t breathe in a little room 
 as I can in the woods." 
 
 " But, dear Jack, you can be better attended there we 
 
 "Don t talk, Airnest. I won t ax for much tendance now. 
 I feel I m going ; my teeth stick when I set them down, and 
 when I try to open them it s hard work. I m in a bad way, I 
 tell you, when I can t talk talking was so nateral." 
 
 " What can I bring yon?" 
 
430 
 
 MKLLICFIAMPK. 
 
 "Water!" lie replied, gaspingly. 
 
 But, with the effort to swallow, there came a rush of blood 
 into his mouth, which almost suffocated him. 
 
 " It s all over with me now, Airnest, hoy. I ve clone the 
 best for you " 
 
 The youth squeezed his hand, but was too much moved to 
 speak. 
 
 " I ve worked mighty hard to git you out of the hobble, and 
 I m awful glad that the bullet didn t come till you were safe 
 out of the claws of that varmint. You ve got a clear track 
 now ; and oh ! Miss Janet, I m so glad to see you together, 
 lock and lock, as I may say, afore I die. It s a God s blessing 
 that I m let to see it." 
 
 He linked their hands as he spoke, and the tears flowed as 
 if he had been a child. Nor were the two bending above him 
 less moved. 
 
 "When you re man and wife, you mustn t forgit Jack 
 Witherspoon. Ah, Airnest, you can t reckon how much he 
 loved you." 
 
 " I know it I feel it, Jack. Your present situation this 
 wound " 
 
 " I don t mind the pain of it, Airnest, when I think that I 
 saved you. You re safe; and tain t no hard matter to die 
 when one s done all his business. Indeed, to say truth, it s 
 high time Ah! it s like a wild-cat gnawing into the bones!" 
 
 The dialogue, broken and interrupted frequently by the 
 sorrow of the spectators and the agonizing pain of Wither 
 spoon, was at length interrupted by the entrance into the area 
 of the partisan-general, with several of the officers. Marion 
 spoke in a low tone to Scipio, who stood at the head of the 
 dying man. The voice was recognised by him. 
 
 "That s the gineral the old fox, " he muttered to him- 
 self; and he strove to throw back his eyes sufficiently to see 
 him. 
 
 " Stand out of the moonlight, nigger I wants to see the 
 gineral." 
 
 "I am here, Thumbscrew," said Marion, kneeling down 
 beside him " How is it with you, my friend ?" 
 
JACK WITHERSPOON. 431 
 
 " Bad enough, gineral. You ll have to put me in the odd 
 leaf of the orderly s book. I ve got my certificate." 
 
 " I hope not, Thumby. We must see what can be done 
 for yen. We can t spare any of our men," said Marion, 
 encouragingly. The dying man smiled feebly as he spoke 
 in : 
 
 I know you can t, and that makes me more sorry. But 
 you know me, grineral wasn t I a whig from the first?" 
 
 "I believe it I know it. You have done your duty 
 always." 
 
 "Put that down in the orderly book I was a whig irom 
 the first." 
 
 "I will," said Marion. 
 
 " And after it, put down agen he was a whig to the last." 
 
 "I will." 
 
 "Put down -he never believed in the torics, and " (herv 
 he paused, chokingly, from a fit of coughing) " and he always 
 made them believe in him." 
 
 "You have done nobly in the good cause, John With ei 
 spoon," said the general, while his eyes were filled with teart;, 
 " and you may well believe that Francis Marion, who honors, 
 you, will protect your memory. Here is my hand." 
 
 The woodman pressed it to his lips. 
 
 "Airnest" 
 
 The youth bent over him. The arms of the dying man 
 were lifted ; they clasped him round with a fervent grasp, 
 and brought his forehead down to his lips 
 
 "Airnest!" he exclaimed once more, and then his grasp 
 .was relaxed. He lay cold and lifeless; the rude but noble 
 spirit had gone from the humble but honorable dwelling, which 
 it had informed and elevated. The grief of Ernest Melli 
 champe was speechless. And if the happiness of the pair, 
 united in the sweetest bonds by the hands of the dying man, 
 in that hour of pain, was ever darkened with a sorrow, it was 
 when they thought that he who had served them so faithfully 
 had not been permitted to behold it. 
 
 THE END 
 
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