GIFT OF 
 

 JZ^^^ 
 
 
 
THE CAVERNS OF DAWN 
 
-s==»5>^^«B=>i«- 
 
The Caverns 
 OF Dawn 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES PAXTON VOORHEES 
 
 Author of "Wissy," "The Tale of Wealth," 
 Other Stories, and Poems 
 
 O dear, fondest heart! Of the days that are past, 
 And clin^ in their tenderness close round the soul, 
 May we dream on as now, until, at the last, 
 When joys, out of dreams, in their splendors unroll, 
 We see, in our loved ones, the hope that we cast. 
 With deep, lon^imt sight, at their flight to love's goal. 
 
 PLAINPIELD. INDIANA 
 
 THB RAiDABAUaH-VOORHBE3 COMPANY 
 
 1910 
 
Copyright, 1906. 1907 
 By James PAXTON VOORHEES 
 
 All Bights Eeserved 
 
 Copyright. 1910 
 Br JAMES PAXTON VaORHEES 
 
 All Biyhts Beserved 
 
 The Caller Press 
 
 Plainfield, Indiana 
 
To his son 
 
 CHARLES FRANCIS VOORHEES 
 
 A tried, true and faithful soul 
 
 this story is affectionately inscribed 
 
 by his father 
 
 the author 
 
 259585 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter 
 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Page 
 
 In Explanation 9 
 
 Night and Morning 13 
 
 A Glimpse of Law and Govern- 
 ment; Together With Some 
 Things Unpleasantly Due to 
 the Absence op Both ... 23 
 "The Rats Leave the Ship" . , 33 
 "The Other Woman in the Case" 38 
 Brad Simons and De Br.u)dock . 45 
 The Country Schoolhouse . . 51 
 "The Way of the World" . . 63 
 "Good Things of Day Begin to 
 
 Droop and Drowse, 
 And Night's Black Agents to 
 
 Their Prey do Rouse" ... 70 
 
 The Braddock Farm ,81 
 
 John 93 
 
 Where Thieves Fell Out and Tom 
 
 BoLERS Came In 98 
 
 A Seasonable Conspiracy . . 106 
 
 An Aggravated and Deadly Threat 111 
 A Political Visitation ; and a Bank 
 
 Robbery 118 
 
 Shadows Cross the Sun . . . 133 
 Uncle Peter Braddock .... 146 
 Zeke Smithin Meets a Violent End 167 
 A Lynching Syndicate Short on 
 
 Dividends 178 
 
 Brad Simons Ignominiously Comes 
 TO Grief, Where Some ]\Iight 
 Think He Belongs .... 189 
 
 VI. 
 
CONTENTS. VII 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XX. The Haunted Wood 202 
 
 XXI. The Picnic. — John Braddock Un- 
 der Suspicion 215 
 
 XXII. Smoky Billings. — The Arrest of 
 
 John Braddock 226 
 
 XXIII, An Unexplained Visitor from Ken- 
 
 tucky Fills the Atmosphere 
 With Deepest ]\Iystery . . . 236 
 
 XXIV. William White "Gets Into the 
 
 Game" and, at the Same Time, 
 Near Enough Into a Fight 
 WITH Brad Simons to Make it 
 
 Interesting 251 
 
 XXV. Bob Likkum ]\Iakes an Appoint- 
 ment Under Rather Curious 
 and Unexpected Circumstances 258 
 XXVI. Smoky Billings Dreams a Dream . 266 
 XXVII. Billings and Simons (Limited), 
 Furnishers of Interesting and 
 
 Exciting News 274 
 
 XXVIII. De and William. — "Do You Love 
 
 Me?" "I Do." "Then Why— ?" 285 
 XXIX. Esau ]\Iakes a Discovery of In- 
 creasing Mystery and Be- 
 wilderment 291 
 
 XXX. A Compact 297 
 
 XXXI. William White Faces His Enemies 308 
 XXXII. The Old ]\Iill 318 
 
 XXXIII. ]\Iona Walker, the Pretty House- 
 
 keeper, Brings Brad Simons to 
 
 AN Understanding .... 333 
 
 XXXIV. A Treacherous and Murderous 
 
 Assault 339 
 
VIII 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter 
 XXXV. 
 
 Page 
 
 A Subtle Skein in the Warp and 
 Woof That Fate Will Ever 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 XL. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 
 Weave — Is Ever Weaving. A 
 Doubt. Nance and De. John 
 Braddock's Sister Yields to 
 
 Brad Simons 348 
 
 The Kentucky Man Takes a New 
 
 Lease on Life 356 
 
 De Has Friends at Work . . . 369 
 
 One of ''Them Literary Fellers" 
 
 Threatens to Achieve Renown. 
 
 — A Rescue is Effected From 
 
 THE Raging Waters of the 
 
 Flood 383 
 
 The Thrilling and Sensational 
 Religious Scruples op De Brad- 
 dock 394 
 
 Trial of John Braddock . . . 401 
 
 Acquittal 422 
 
 Lost 432 
 
 A Ghostly Guide 453 
 
 The Caverns of Dawn .... 459 
 "The Wrath TO Come" .... 474 
 Bob Likkum's Theatrical "An- 
 gel" 485 
 
 Smoky Billings Objects — Objec- 
 tion Not Overruled .... 489 
 
 The Harvest Moon 494 
 
 Goodby 509 
 
In Explanation. ■ ' ' ••;''.; 
 
 "With a deep and charitable consciousness of our com- 
 mon failings, and in the blessed and natural certainty 
 and conviction of our final release and salvation, my 
 duty is undertaken. 
 
 Not a great while since, an eminent public speaker 
 (Mr. Taft), talking to a large assembly at Cooper Union, 
 New York, was interrupted by a question from someone 
 in the audience. 
 
 "How," shouted a voice — its owner evidently stirred 
 by deep and vital interest, — "how about the unem- 
 ployed?" 
 
 Mr. Taft cried: 
 
 "God knows!" 
 
 A newly risen i\Ioses, in the Northwest — his name is 
 Johnson — j\Ir. Johnson, not long ago, was asked by a 
 well known writer — ]\Ir. Steffens — what was the trouble 
 with our social system. Mr. Johnson is quoted as reply- 
 ing: 
 
 "No one, in the w^hole world, knows." 
 
 Taken in connection with previous experience in the 
 case of William Jennings Bryan, another quotation from 
 the magazine writer has, in an even increased sense, led 
 us to suppose that ]\Ir. Bryan in effect holds : 
 
 "If one thing won't do, try another," — which is all 
 very well as far as it goes; but it don't go far enough. 
 
 In my own opinion — and, I dare say, it is as good as 
 anyone's — in my own opinion, it is useless and unneces- 
 sary to longer continue skipping around in this cloud- 
 land and fog, playing at political and social hide and 
 seek, when there is a way out. 
 
 Does "no one, in the whole world, know," what the 
 trouble is with our system of living? is the question. / 
 say, there is someone — and there are many who know, 
 

 - 1-0: - . • -^ ' IN EXPLANATION. 
 
 and many more who, if they do not, may easily, readily 
 learn. 
 
 The facts are plain and simple, and may be read and 
 comprehended not only by those running, but by those 
 standing still or sitting do^vTi, as well. 
 
 The trouble is, simply, insincerity and want of per- 
 sonal good faith; together with the continued and un- 
 bearable existence of personal and selfish indilierence — 
 a clear personal problem, with the solution plainly in 
 view, and each and every single one of us concerned in 
 and accountable for the solving of that problem. 
 
 It has been with a sense of the gravest — of the deep- 
 est and most solemn personal — responsibility, that I 
 have brought myself — been brought to write — to prepare 
 this narrative. 
 
 It may not seem a pleasant view that we are obliged 
 to take; nevertheless, it is an unavoidable one, and, in 
 spite of the best, the kindest, the most humane and char- 
 itable disposition, will have to be given in plain, unvar- 
 nished terms — terms, however, intended to convey facts 
 and conditions and release; not a measure of censure or 
 of punishment and of further suffering and distress. We 
 will surely exercise forbearance and mercy in dealing 
 justly with our mutual faults and shortcomings. 
 
 Selfishness, destructive pride, faithlessness and bru- 
 tality largely go to make up our social life. 
 
 It will not be possible to fully and satisfactorily ex- 
 press the meaning — the inevitable meaning of the story 
 of The Caverns of Daw^n, without an additional word 
 to fix our thought upon the Individual, in society or out 
 of it; and upon the realization of the responsibility of 
 that Individual to its own as well as to another's wel- 
 fare. 
 
 Once understand that We ourselves are the makers of 
 our o^ATi troubles and our joys; that, in the beginning, 
 
IN EXPLANATION. 11 
 
 as a race or evidence of life, we exist by our own sep- 
 arate, independent powers, alone; and not by politics, 
 government or social conditions of any kind other than 
 those contained in common safety and decency — in the 
 fair attributes of personal character — once learn all this 
 (and we will, of course, before we get through), and the 
 problems of the day, and of the hour, and of the minute 
 are easily solved — personality, as personality alone can, 
 supplying the solution. 
 
 Confucius, — a wise old Chinaman! — ages ago said 
 something, in substance, very similar: 
 
 "Four fifths of life consist in personal conduct; the 
 remaining fifth may be given to the other affairs of 
 existence. ' ' 
 
 To-day, I say, it's all personal — five fifths personal; 
 faith, no matter what kind, or whether good or bad; 
 benevolence; charity; pride; humility; love; virtue; 
 evil, itself; business — all the common elements of life 
 unfailingly refer back to personalism. 
 
 Is it, therefore, not true that these things of a fur- 
 ther personal obligation and nature should be realized — 
 must be — is it not true? 
 
 If realized, can there be any doubt of our having 
 found a remedy, relief for our otherwise seemingly in- 
 supportable and grievous personal ills and burdens? 
 Assuredly, there can be none; and I leave the ensuing 
 story, with its best aim and purpose, to show how un- 
 selfishness and fair play may bring a cure. 
 
 The human race, with its natural failings, has yet 
 experienced a great and imposing past; and one in 
 which, doubtless, it has acted for the best, according to 
 its lights. However, in the even happier intelligence of 
 the present, drawTi from the perception of a truer rela- 
 tion to ourselves, to each other, to society and to human- 
 ity, may we not expect to joyously withdraw, as they 
 
12 IN EXPLANATION. 
 
 willingly flee before us, from the unhappier shadows of 
 gloom and despair, and into the brighter and gladder 
 sunlight of perfect hope, love and universal happiness 
 here and hereafter ! 
 
 With the foregoing view, my work is done, 
 
 J. P. V. 
 Greencastle, Indiana, 
 
 July 20, 1908. 
 
The Caverns of Dawn. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 It was night. 
 
 He stood alone upon the bridge. Beyond, the lights 
 of the city spread out in fantastic fire. The heavens 
 glowed with the stars eternal, unchanging. Solitude, fit 
 companion for memory, surrounded him. The phantoms 
 of the past — of failure and of retribution — moved, in 
 dancing, shadowy images, before his vision. He saw 
 cities where thousands toiled; vast halls and throngs 
 assembled. He saw himself a helpless speck, an atom, 
 in this whirling mass of energy and selfish triumph — 
 himself in hopeless struggle for a right. In the crowds 
 he saw those ever seeming to befriend him — ever to 
 oppose his wrongs ; but ever silently and unseen faith- 
 lessly and treacherously plotting in his overthrow. In 
 the name of eternal justice and truth ! what did it all 
 mean? He was crushed — beaten. Was he going mad? 
 He had not even the poor comfort of failing reason 
 where he might blindly grope his darkened way into a 
 merciful oblivion. Old forms and institutions were tot- 
 tering, falling, crumbling into pitiful but kindly decay 
 and vanishing in a sheltering past. Why could he not 
 find release and hide, forever hide, the wreck of his own 
 tragic sail in a haven of forgotten things — of forgetful- 
 ness? Gleams of fitful and disordered intelligence lit 
 the gloom ; spent their little life like broken sword blades 
 stained blood red or bits of jangled lightning coming 
 to abrupt and sudden stops, and left unsatisfied results 
 
 13 
 
14 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 as ashes tasteless in the mouth. Where should he turn 
 from that haunting procession of ghostly shapes ! The 
 river, reflecting the glimmering stars, flowed silently at 
 his feet. He gazed long into its depths, but the phan- 
 toms were there. He faced Arlington and the broad 
 open country across the river, where a nation's dead lay 
 buried — shadowy shapes, here, were crowding tliick — 
 thick and fast. He turned slowly to the city — and the 
 phantoms still pursued him. Was there no rest ? There 
 was none. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 The city gleamed and sparkled in the rising sun like 
 a great jewel flashing over a new world divine radiance 
 — the heart of a vast nation where have been humanity's 
 hopes and longings for a hundred years and more. 
 Signalizing promise, it told of the lofty purposes of a 
 mighty republic. It was not concerned with phantom 
 shapes. Why should it be? Wrong could not dwell 
 here. Failure and retribution! Impossible — idle. Are 
 not such visions, then, the mere product of a dreamer's 
 mind? Away with these phantoms! They are false. 
 Waste not your time upon them. Away, away with evil 
 phantoms ! 
 
 The scene was a familiar one, in a park, beneath the 
 trees. There, lingered the man who had stood beside 
 the river. He lounged silently, restlessly and uneasily 
 beside the colossal equestrian statue of a dead president. 
 A living one presided across the way. The blackbirds 
 were looking for their breakfast; so was the man — who, 
 the night before, had watched the waters as they flowed 
 beneath the bridge — the old, old bridge of sighs ! 
 
 As he loitered near the statue, a middle-aged woman 
 and an attractive, fair young girl still in her teens ap- 
 proached. The man, evidently acquainted with, the new 
 arrivals, nodded and the girl and woman paused. 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 15 
 
 "Have you got a place yet?" he asked. 
 
 "No, Mr. Jump," returned the elder of the two fe- 
 males. "Mr. Blazes " 
 
 "You think he'll get a position for you?" drearily 
 queried the first speaker, interrupting the other. 
 
 "Mr. Blazes? He says he'll do something for us," 
 the woman answered, but there was a certain evasiveness 
 in her manner and speech that caught the other's atten- 
 tion. 
 
 Her companion expressively stretched forth his arm 
 in the direction of the effigy of the dead president. 
 
 "So," he said, wearily, "will that statue." 
 
 " I do not know what we will do, if he does not, ' ' she 
 made reply. 
 
 "Nor I," said the man. 
 
 The breezes blew over the people's beautiful pleasure 
 ground, the trees waved their branches gaily, the water 
 from the handsome drinking fountain trickled and mur- 
 mured and sounded refreshingly upon the ear, and, sigh- 
 ing, the woman, with the young girl, passed on ; like the 
 blackbirds and the lonely and helpless figure by that 
 monument to human greatness and worth they, too, were 
 looking for their breakfast. 
 
 The man did not have to wait long for his. 
 
 "Just a moment, please," said he, and detained a 
 friend who was hurrying by to his duties in one of the 
 government departments. The hungry man was eager, 
 and his passing friend was kind. 
 
 A word or two ; the hand of the delayed department 
 official went to his pocket; a coin was handed the other, 
 and the two separated. 
 
 Jason Jump, the recipient of the loan, was once 
 editor of a flourishing country newspaper. He was now 
 a national claimant. His claim, alas ! however, appeared 
 to be upon charitable humanity, and powerless to obtain 
 
16 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 justice from the laws of his native land. He was long 
 a noted figure in Washington ; suffered much ; was event- 
 ually known as one of the most daring and famous out- 
 laws of his times, and, in his crimes and in their origin, 
 realized the sad and mournful dreams — the inexorable 
 results of the ages of government and misrule, 
 
 "Come with me," said a friendly voice at the claim- 
 ant's elbow, directed in apparent sympathetic persua- 
 siveness to the brooding sufferer from national and uni- 
 versal ills. 
 
 The one addressed turned at this unexpected and 
 amicable request, and recognized in the man making it 
 a familiar though hardly to be trusted acquaintance. 
 
 The speaker took the object of his address by the 
 arm, and without waiting for a reply walked with a 
 brisk step to a nearby rich and elegant drinking resort. 
 The two entered. It was early and they were among the 
 first there. 
 
 Were you ever in a drinking place during the early 
 morning hours when the atmosphere is amber like the 
 color of pale beer, and the air has a faint, exhilarating 
 odor of past stimulants and a vague and undefined 
 allurement in promise of future ones, — were you? If 
 not, you can scarcely know the thrill of dangerous hope 
 that seized upon the defeated and disappointed worldly 
 soul of Jason Jump brought hither by the cunning of his 
 sleepless tempter, Bradford Simons. 
 
 wine — drink; solace of broken, blighted sor- 
 row-stricken lives; condemned medium of forgetful- 
 ness, what may be said of you in fatal praise and in 
 lingering, fairest warning! 
 
 As they entered the place, they brushed past a young 
 fellow who, with face flushed after a night of gaiety in 
 the city — and still attired in evening dress, opera top 
 coat and hat, — was preparing after a final bracer to make 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 17 
 
 his way a little unsteadily home. The claimant and his 
 companion stepped aside, while the early reveler went 
 out with a tuneful and sprightly impromptu: 
 
 "Oh. for women and wine and song. 
 
 And ihe night that is given to joy, — 
 Oh, for the heart that is ever young. 
 And the pleasures that minstrels have ever sung, 
 And the bells that bridals have ever rung,— 
 Oh, love for a gay old boy ! " 
 
 The place was a famous and notable one. Its luxury, 
 the fashionable elegance of its well known, extensive 
 patronage, and its atmosphere of ease and wealth ap- 
 pealed in overpowering waves to the unhappy govern- 
 ment castoff. Costly paintings decorated the walls, cut 
 glass glittered and shimmered with the many colored 
 iridescence of varied memory-stilling contents. A white- 
 aproned, white- jacketed waiter approached. The ser- 
 vice, like the rest of it, was immaculate. 
 
 "You've had trouble, Jason," said the claimant's 
 companion, using his friend's christian name, and ^ith 
 a kind of formal gravity, as the two seated themselves 
 comfortably at a table. The speaker was large, tall and 
 florid; the other, short, heavy set and dark. 
 
 "Yes," gloomily and despairingly replied the claim- 
 ant, and the shadows of past mistakes and wrong came 
 stealing in, again — once more, the phantoms ! 
 
 "I wouldn't stand it," continued his friend, with, 
 as before, an air of apparent grave and quiet concern 
 for the other. The speaker, both having drunk, pushed 
 his glass to one side on the table and gazed at the 
 troubled subject of national ways with a peculiar and 
 baffling scrutiny. 
 
 "You w^ouldn't — wouldn't you?" queried the other, 
 his tones sounding a note of mournful and ironical 
 pathos in that resort for wealth, idle pleasure and those 
 in power. • 
 
18 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Take my advice, Jump, and get even," — the com- 
 panion of the claimant here leaned back in his chair and, 
 with an air of assumed carelessness, coolly lighted a 
 cigar. He bided his time; he could wait — and he did. 
 
 "That's all very well — ^but how?" asked Jump, in 
 his turn, leaning with his arms on the table and stretch- 
 ing forward in an attitude of earnest questioning and 
 a too unmistakable interest. A little more urging ! 
 
 "See here," said his friend, while his voice was low- 
 ered darkly, "if law is no better than such as they make, 
 I 'd make my own law ! ' ' 
 
 "You mean ?" exclaimed the defeated man, 
 
 comprehension, for the first time, appearing to da^\Ti in 
 his anxious and disturbed eyes. 
 
 "I mean what I have always said," returned the 
 other, deliberately. "There is plenty of money to be 
 made out there, and it's only right to take the law in 
 your own hands. Leave your state and government — 
 they've done nothing for you. Go back with me." 
 
 The baited man made an effort to control himself, 
 only partially succeeding. 
 
 "Damnation, Brad, let me alone, will you!" he cried 
 desperately. "I have told you, never to speak to me 
 of that again," but Jump's manner, rendered pliant by 
 drink, was not devoid of encouragement to the other, 
 and the latter apologetically and adroitly replied: 
 
 "No offense. The cattle trade is a good trade." 
 
 "Cattle trade?" questioned the victim. 
 
 "Why, yes," returned the tempter, with now an 
 effective pretense of indifference; "didn't I tell you 
 that it was only a kind of cattle business?" 
 
 Jason sat and gazed at the figure before him. He 
 knew the man was purposely misleading him, but a cer- 
 tain unfailing sense of moral sufficiency that had, in all 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 19 
 
 the difficulties of his life, sustained him seemed to be 
 slipping away. 
 
 "Cattle lifting — outlawry!" commented the fated 
 and reckless object of social and governmental ills. The 
 old, old story ! 
 
 "Why, now," was the reply, in an aggrieved tone, 
 "a little business in cattle and — er — things that are 
 lost ! ' ' and Brad Simons, looking like an angel rebuked 
 in the delivery of a message of salvation, by a gesture in- 
 dicated in space how somewhere and somehow cattle and 
 "things" could disappear and be humanely rescued. 
 
 Jump pondered. Convinced of the unreliability and 
 worse of the unscrupulous cattle dealer, he yet felt, in 
 his slowly weakening resolution, a sudden fierce attrac- 
 tion to the wild law of barbaric self redress. The voice 
 of liberty in all ages and all climes vibrating through 
 the seducer's temptation has sung this never changing 
 song! The Scottish clansman, returning to his thatch 
 where wife and bairn, by act of faithless government, 
 lay murdered, once sought the rocks and fastnesses of 
 his native ^vilds and, Rob Roy like, fattened his revenge 
 on the chattels and the blood of his tyrants and oppres- 
 sors ; the misused of the middle ages, peasant and gentle, 
 Jack Cade and Robin Hood, had found relief from their 
 intolerable burdens and abuses in open outlawry and re- 
 bellion. Then why should not he, thought this melan- 
 choly instance of modern faithlessness and wrong, turn 
 upon his own times and kind ? 
 
 The betrayed and ruined man hesitated, and in his 
 hesitation was the first seed of crime of which all govern- 
 ment must take note — the first germ of revolt in the re- 
 taliation of the weak when abused by the strong. 
 
 "I know — against your principles — it is so much 
 easier to go on sersdng those who have ruined you ! ' ' The 
 
20 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 sneering irony and sarcasm of this speech were not lost 
 upon Jason Jump. 
 
 "Listen," began the claimant steadily: "This treat- 
 ment by the government, as you know, broke her heart 
 and killed my wife and set my poor children adrift," — 
 the hearer respectfully inclined his head, — "and it will 
 surely kill me in time, but " 
 
 "Bah!" interrupted the listener, "is it right to con- 
 tinue like a poor, helpless fool to submit, where in power 
 they are capable of nothing but unbearable abuse and 
 mistreatment — brutal betrayal of their country; de- 
 struction of its citizens?" 
 
 "I do not know," replied Jason Jump, with a solemn 
 and pathetic sadness. 
 
 ' ' Has it ever been or will it ever be that the wronged, 
 so wronged, will not have to rise up in their might and 
 redress their own wrongs?" 
 
 "True," replied Jump. 
 
 "You had better," said the cunning revolutionary, 
 "make one of us." 
 
 The claimant's surcharged soul had been tried to the 
 last point of endurance. 
 
 "If I cannot obtain right in this world, one way, I 
 will another," burst in a tortured cry from the hapless 
 creature in final and open rebellion against his wrongs. 
 The speaker's smooth and colorless face had taken on 
 a flush not wholly attributable to the liquor he had 
 drunk; and as he continued to sit and watch the one 
 opposite him he seemed to undergo some subtle change. 
 An evil film appeared to spread itself over his eyes, and 
 a hardening settled in the finer lines about his mouth. 
 The whole expression of the man had altered — from a 
 countenance of openness and candor his had become one 
 of cunning, treachery and deceit. Thickly and ^^•ith 
 apparent difficulty he spoke again. "I will see him; I 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 21 
 
 will have justice, or — I will !" he broke off with a 
 
 wild and menacing snarl. 
 
 The other nodded his head understandingly. 
 
 The victim of the injustice of government sat silent. 
 
 And the phantoms of heartlessness, wrong and op- 
 pression and of the night before upon the bridge circled 
 him about, mocked and pressed, ever pressed him on. 
 
 And this was Washington! 
 
 Jason Jump elbowed his way through the crowded 
 corridors of the capitol, on his way to a committee room 
 where a committee, of which his congressman v/as a 
 member, was accustomed to hold its sessions. As Jump 
 was passing rapidly on, the woman and girl whom he 
 had met on the day previous in the park stepped out 
 from the recess of a window, where they had detached 
 themselves from the crowd, and the woman, with a 
 pleased smile, greeted the hurrying man. 
 
 Mary Walker and her daughter ! Don 't you remem- 
 ber them? "No," you say; "but I remember someone 
 — something about a w'oman and her child fighting — 
 somewhere struggling — for existence. Same things, isn't 
 it?" Yes, same thing — same old thing! ^ 
 
 Jason paused. 
 
 "Are you still trying to get them to do something 
 for you?" he said commiseratingly, in response to her 
 greeting. 
 
 "Yes," replied the woman; while the girl, nearing 
 twenty years of age and pretty, turned away her face 
 framed in bronze gold hair, and now mantled with a sud- 
 den flush under Jason Jump's grave scrutiny, and aim- 
 lessly let her glance wander off through the window, 
 where her dreamy, puzzled gaze rested upon the sloping 
 lawn of the capitol, with here and there a squirrel skip- 
 ping gaily and happily about in the sweet spring air. 
 
22 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Wliat will he do?" asked the man, staring stonily 
 into the eyes of the mother. ''Anything new?" 
 
 "He says, although he promised to do so, that he 
 cannot get me a place; but seems unusually interested 
 in Llona, ' ' said Jump 's informant, with a gesture in the 
 direction of the younger female. The face of the older 
 woman wore an expression of uncertainty and uneasi- 
 ness as she scanned Jason's countenance. 
 
 "Your daughter," was the simple comment. 
 
 "My daughter," and the uneasiness of the other in- 
 creased. 
 
 ' ' Do you want him to be so interested ? ' ' further said 
 Jason. 
 
 "I do not," the mother was positive in voice and 
 manner. 
 
 ' ' And you must let him be ? " said Jump with curious 
 insistence. 
 
 "We must, or starve," cried the woman hopelessly. 
 
 "I will see," said the man, "what can be done." 
 A hard, determined look — one, however, inspired by 
 friendship and sympathy for the mother and her child 
 — accompanied his earnest speech. 
 
 "Oh! do," exclaimed the other. 
 
 He left them, and forged on through the crowd. 
 Some as yet inextinguishable spark of the native kin- 
 dredship of humankind, as well as of chivalry and rev- 
 erence for women, burned like coals of fire deep down 
 in his soul. He forged on. 
 
 "I'll save them from that fellow Swarth Blazes," 
 he muttered, and who knows but the spirit of fair play 
 brooding over the place gave him credit ; while the phan- 
 toms and the shadows ever flew before him. 
 
 And still this was the capital of our nation ! 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF LAW AND GOVERNMENT; TOGETHER WITH 
 
 SOME THINGS UNPLEASANTLY DUE TO 
 
 THE ABSENCE OP BOTH. 
 
 The applicant for justice at the doors of the last 
 resort! What say the gloating phantom shapes of past 
 faithlessness and sorrows? 
 
 "They who come here ask for bread and receive a 
 stone!" 
 
 Shadow, does this carry with it good faith? 
 
 The hollow voice comes taunting, mocking back: 
 
 "It carries with it desperation and fatal reckless- 
 ness; and, verily! it is the occasion of monstrous and 
 diabolical evil, beginning the great movement of retali- 
 ation and reprisal which animates the injured in all 
 nature ! ' ' 
 
 And, you in power! In this final stage, the sub- 
 ject of abuse, facing total destitution and desertion, has 
 but one of two alternatives : The Law of Reprisal, call 
 it criminal or otherwise; or The Law of Death, self in- 
 flicted — the latter surely a choice hardly to be expected 
 as offering a rational solution of our troubles, in the 
 eminent judgment of the infallible congress, itself. If, 
 then, oh, wise ones — oh, humane ones — we can do no 
 better, and as we can, perhaps, hardly expect our abused 
 citizens to considerately destroy themselves, let us be 
 mercifully thankful we are criminals and are carefully 
 preparing the way of becoming an organized and per- 
 petual race of criminals and callous and hardened 
 breakers of the law. 
 
 23 
 
24 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 The phantoms have spoken. 
 
 They swirled, did the people, about the doors of con- 
 gress, a sluggish, eddying current draAnng surely to a 
 vortex where many go down — where few survive. They 
 flowed up to the north door of the house, which looked 
 through the long vista of statuary hall, rotunda and cor- 
 ridor to the south door of the senate. They ebbed into 
 the adjacent window nooks and sections of hallway. 
 They fretted, worried and fumed. They were sullen 
 and threatening whirlpools of humanity. Was there 
 not cause? Do all of us get justice? — The soldier, who 
 has journeyed long to this ]\Iecca, the luxury of which, 
 for the individual public servant, he has given his o%vn 
 blood to purchase and provide; the little Miss Elite, 
 with her birds ; the other poor creature, bedizened in 
 flashy garb and rouge ; the lame and halt of heart, mind 
 and body — they all filled the circling eddies with drift- 
 ing castaways to be reclaimed — never? The richly clad, 
 pompous, rotund example, in silk hat, links of gold 
 watch chain extending across his capacious, oily front ; 
 swinging in his imposing gait a massive gold-headed 
 cane — he was there, also. Hence, in this last instance, 
 the owner of the lobby, in its turn the owner of the 
 soul of congress and its acts, was there. The frescoes 
 upon the walls of this palace of justice and law showed, 
 in beautiful, entrancing colors and gilding, the figures 
 of youth, of purity, of liberty and of good faith. Hence, 
 once more, it was but fitting that a mother followed by 
 a sweet and lovely girl yet in her teens should be there, 
 trying pitifully to efface her own less engaging and more 
 matured personality in the face of her congressman 
 (representative or sf^nator), that the charm.s of the blos- 
 som brought from the little garden at home — the child — 
 the daughter — might brin^- to play upon the immaculate 
 congressional sense and taste an influence to operate in 
 
A GLIMPSE OF LAW AND GOVERNMENT. 25 
 
 relieving and supplying their dire distress and want. 
 Of this the Goddess of Liberty, Truth and Righteous- 
 ness, construable in the before mentioned frescoes, 
 doubtless took note of record and official justification. 
 They were all there; even the priest — the minister — the 
 man of God — walked with sleek self consciousness as- 
 sured of a common or an uncommon chance to rise or 
 fall. They all greeted each other, here, with a strange 
 smile of unfamiliar recognition. They knew not each 
 other save by the common likeness they bore Him they 
 called their Maker. They were a multitude of strangers 
 that hard, cruel necessity had drawn together. But in 
 the charming indifference of this enchanting spot, it 
 was good that, ''One touch of nature made the whole 
 world kin ! ' ' They seethed and boiled and bubbled and 
 crowded about the doors of the national halls of legisla- 
 tion, hungry, anxious, careworn, distracted, little know- 
 ing, little caring, at last, whether what they were striv- 
 ing for represented right, justice, fairness or not — even 
 losing sight, in the end, of the native and righteous cause 
 which first brought them there — stunted in every moral 
 sense, ready, as in the case of Jason Jump, in despera- 
 tion to resort to any means which might accomplish their 
 object — subsistence — life, itself. 
 
 And this is our system! 
 
 The shadows are flying, flying. Another utterance. 
 Hear what it is : Society has assumed itself to be the 
 stronger — has implied the individual to be the weaker. 
 Society, governed by a few mostly self placed governors, 
 has made its own conditions. The individual has sur- 
 rendered to them. Those conditions are imperfect. So- 
 ciety is responsible for its whole and its parts. Society 
 is guilty, if the subject individual is guilty. Society 
 should be punished, if the individual should be punished. 
 The leaders and the organizers of association must 
 
26 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 surely and inevitably share in the consequences of their 
 own faulty and selfish construction, and, consciously or 
 other^vise, are unhappily inviting nameless calamities 
 that were best, indeed, left unspoken in the lives of 
 themselves and their descendants, — results, neverthe-. 
 less, surely courting grievous revolution and sorrow, 
 vtithout the individual majority awaking to respect 
 and sympathy for individual hardship, suffering and 
 M'ant. 
 
 Let us draw on to that wonderful beehive, the na- 
 tional assembly. There are good bees and evil bees in 
 the marvelous legislative body — conscience shall answer 
 which are the good and which the bad. 
 
 Mr. "Wilson, of Chicago, was consulting his repre- 
 sentative in congress, the Honorable Swarth Blazes, of 
 the Blank District of the State of Blank. The visiting 
 gentleman was fat and shiny and smiled, with wide and 
 beaming expansiveness, as he consulted — in the usual 
 way! 
 
 ''How's the old gentleman?" inquired Mr. Wilson 
 pleasantly, after entering the presence. 
 
 "What old gentleman?" agreeably rejoined the rep- 
 resentative of the ' ' dear people. ' ' 
 
 "Your Uncle Samuel," responded the representative 
 of pork, railroad and other interests in which it was a 
 matter of no concern to him whether the "dear people" 
 were interested or not. 
 
 The puzzled congressman was obliged to ask what his 
 visitor meant, as ]\Ir. Blazes did not recall having on his 
 list of relations any uncle of that name. 
 
 "I refer," explained Mr. Wilson smilingly, "to the 
 personage known in our national history as Uncle Sam." 
 
 "A-a-h," assentingly said Mr. Swarth Blazes, some- 
 what at a loss, in the present turn of conversation, as 
 to what else to say. 
 
A GLIMPSE OF LAW AND GOVERNMENT. 27 
 
 Mr. Wilson pompously proceeded: 
 
 "Your distinguished relative, I understand, is not 
 well — suffering from indigestion of the treasury," the 
 Chicagoan's face was solemn, 
 
 Swarth perceived the dawn of a joke. 
 
 "He," continued Mr. Wilson, "should be treated to 
 a little financial blood letting. Phlebotomy, financial 
 phlebotomy, my dear Blazes, is what he needs." 
 
 The member laughed heartily, and exclaimed in his 
 delight : 
 
 "Nothing better in Mark Twain, — 'indigestion of the 
 treasury' — 'financial phlebotomy!' " little minute guns 
 of quotations from his rich friend, on the part of Mr. 
 Blazes, enabling the latter to call up his ready reserves 
 for the balance of the interview. 
 
 "We want that bill, this session," said unctions Mr. 
 Wilson. 
 
 "Um," doubtfully replied perplexed Mr. Blazes. 
 
 "No," said the positive Mr. Wilson, "not 'um,' — 
 the one " 
 
 "Yes, yes," hastily assented his companion, for the 
 committee clerk had entered the room, where the two 
 were occupied, and was respectfully waiting to speak to 
 the member. "What is it. Brant?" asked the congress- 
 man. 
 
 ' ' jMrs. Walker ! ' ' responded the man. 
 
 "I'll see her presently." 
 
 The clerk withdrew. 
 
 "I know, my dear fellow," resumed the member, 
 when he and Mr. Wilson were alone, "all about that bit 
 of financial blood letting," and the two joined in justly 
 merry, care-free laughter, that would have pleased Mr. 
 Blazes' honest constituency, mightily; "but there is 
 something in my other interests before the house — be- 
 fore congress, you know, — I may say, I have some old 
 
28 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 back numbers, — ahem! — fellow's waited until, I expect, 
 he's a little in need of the money involved in the meas- 
 ure." 
 
 ' ' What has that to do ^dth me ? " demanded Wilson. 
 
 ' ' His case has been hanging fire for some years, ' ' the 
 congressman coughed deprecatingly behind his hand, 
 "and I wouldn't be at all surprised, as it is a just claim, 
 if he would not expect, some day, to have it passed. It 
 has been passed," remarked the witty legislator at this 
 point, "but mostly by. My powers of securing leigsla- 
 tion, like a majority of us, are limited. If I give them 
 to you, the other fellow gets nothing. He, really, you 
 know, ought to have the right of way, sometime." 
 
 "Do you mean to sidetrack us for him?" glowered 
 Wilson. 
 
 "Oh, dear no, — not in the least; do not think such 
 a thing for an instant, Mr. Wilson, — not for the world. 
 You do me a great injustice, indeed you do." 
 
 The groveling of the free American spirit was much 
 appreciated by the porkman. 
 
 "Will we get that bill?" ' 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "And now about that tariff schedule: Do we get pro- 
 tection?" 
 
 Blazes assured the helpless "infant industry" that 
 everything was "all fixed." 
 
 "Well, see that it is," Wilson said bluntly. "We pay 
 enough to elect you fellows." Then Mr. Wilson smiled, 
 fatly. 
 
 "Tip you gave us on stocks. Same place — same 
 way — your share. Satisfactory?" and Mr. Wilson 
 beamed both fatly and glowingly. 
 
 "You bet," replied Mr. Blazes, with enthusiasm. 
 
 Mr. Wilson retired; strutted through the capitol; 
 menaced the peace of society ; cast covetous and amorous 
 
A GLIMPSE OF LAW AND GOVERNMENT. 29 
 
 eyes upon ilary Walker's daughter, Mona, whom he 
 saw, but did not know, and, at last, went to Chicago, 
 where he belonged and, doubtless, ought to stay. 
 
 Jason Jump, on reaching the door of the committee 
 room which he sought, inquired of a doorkeeper in at- 
 tendance if the man, in whose quest the former editor 
 was there, was within and could be seen. It had reached 
 the stage, in Jason's case, when the people's representa- 
 tive, being called on by a relic of the past, is usually 
 "not in," and it was, in all likelihood, a fortunate 
 chance for Jason that the door of the committee room 
 happened to be open and that his congressman, in range 
 of vision, sat within. The committee was not in session. 
 
 ' * Come in Jump, ' ' called the member, refreshed after 
 his recent important conference with Mr. Wilson, and 
 reclining, with an expressive leg on a committee-room 
 table, comfortably and indolently in a big arm chair. 
 Mr, Blazes waved two fingers, between which rested a 
 cigar, negligently in the direction of his caller. 
 
 The claimant entered, stood silently before Mr. 
 Swarth Blazes, at the familiar, long, green-cloth-covered- 
 top, committee-room table on which rested Mr. B's leg, 
 and finally spoke. 
 
 "Can I see you in private?" he asked quietly. 
 
 A few of the interesting moments assigned to our 
 valued public servants had been spent, by Mr. Blazes, in 
 noting the fact that his caller's shirt was clean, and the 
 likelihood of the claimant wanting a loan correspond- 
 ingly diminished. There were present, in the committee 
 room, besides Jason's member, one or two other congres- 
 sional pillars of a free country strengthening the scene 
 in like manner of graceful abandon employed by Mr. 
 Swarth Blazes. Considering the lazy, cynical and coldly 
 indifferent curiosity of these last named indispensable 
 aids to human society, and, after a final scrutiny of his 
 
30 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 caller, satisfied on the general question of a loan, Jump 's 
 pillar took his own leg down from the table, straightened 
 a little in his chair, cleared his throat importantly and 
 answered, 
 
 "Why, why, — ye-es, if " 
 
 "Well, it is — most important," rejoined the visitor, 
 a trifle irritably, and anticipating the other's objections 
 and waving them aside with a weary gesture of the 
 hand. 
 
 The member of the national assembly rose reluc- 
 tantly, as if unwilling to squander valuable time spent 
 in the beloved nation 's service and the, certainly, equally 
 highly essential enjoyment of a cigar, and led the way 
 to a private room. The walls and ceilings of the large 
 apartment they here entered, like those of the first room 
 and other parts of the great building, were bright wdth 
 gilding and color, the floor was soft with rich carpet, 
 the furniture massive. Here, Jason Jump, seated oppo- 
 site to Mr. Blazes, stared vacantly, for a space, into the 
 plainly disconcerted countenance of the congressman. 
 The costly clock provided for the precious moments of 
 congressional time by an appreciative government and 
 a few equally appreciative and unselfish merchant phi- 
 lanthropists ticked with painful distinctness in the grow- 
 ing silence. The Honorable Swarth Blazes fidgeted — 
 perhaps an undignified thing for the Honorable Swarth 
 to do, but the truth of history compels the admission 
 that he did it. 
 
 ]Mr. Swarth Blazes, seeing the other either would not 
 or could not open the trying interview, finally in self 
 defense was obliged to do so, himself. 
 
 "Your claim," said he, presently, "does not seem 
 to get on." He caught a peculiar glitter in the eyes of 
 his follower, as he uttered this short speech. 
 
 It passed through the mind of the harassed and tor- 
 
A GLIMPSE OF LAW AND GOVERNMENT. 31 
 
 tured visitor, that he could kill this man sitting there ! 
 How long now had it been since the latter had begun to 
 play the once influential editor for political gain ? Jason 
 Jump did not remember. "His claim did not seem to 
 get on!" It would presently be, "Well, we'll put it 
 through next session," and "next session," like "to- 
 morrow," never came. 
 
 "No," said the constituent, "it does not seem to get 
 on." His voice sounded hoarse — he moistened his lips; 
 thought of the mother and daughter he had just left; 
 thought of a night of sleepless despair and remorse over 
 the failures of his own past life, which he himself had 
 just passed following his interview with the cattle 
 trader ; thought of the future. ' ' No, ' ' he repeated with 
 an effort, "it does not seem to get on." Helplessly, wdtli 
 his shaking hand, he dashed the perspiration from his 
 brow. He had come here to tell this man the awful 
 truths of the hour. How was it to be done ; and if done 
 what would it amount to? How weak, powerless, im- 
 potent he seemed. 
 
 "Is there anything more I can do for you?" queried 
 Swarth Blazes, stifling a yawn with the tips of his fin- 
 gers. 
 
 "I think," observed the other smilelessly, "you have 
 about done for me, already. There was a time when 
 you could have done everything for me — a time, when, 
 long ago, I allowed myself to be drawn into this by your 
 assurances; spending a fortune; wrecking my life, and 
 killing my wife with the heartbreak of it all; a time 
 when you could have either helped me, or told me my 
 efforts were useless — when you sacrificed me, that you 
 might, by seeming to serve me, secure the political sup- 
 port of my friends. There was a time when you could 
 have treated me as honor, duty and friendship alike dic- 
 tate — a time when, I now know, you betrayed me and 
 
32 THE CAVERNS OP DAWN. 
 
 IN FAVOR OF THOSE WHOSE CLAIMS WERE A 
 TISSUE OF INJUSTICE AND FRAUD. Stay, hear 
 me out ! ' ' continued his visitor in a low, intense voice, 
 as Blazes, his face resembling his name, started; and 
 there was now and had been steadily growing in Jason 
 Jump something that compelled the other to listen. 
 "Your selfishness has been my undoing — selfishness now 
 growing in the high places of the earth until our ideals 
 are but sun flashes in the fog; and the well meaning, 
 lost in the deep waters off the coast of government, find 
 themselves wrecked upon the rocks of retaliation and 
 crime. I am going home — home!" he laughed wildly. 
 
 ' ' Come, come, Jump ! ' ' exclaimed Blazes, in not only 
 an instinct of alarm blended with his anger, but in one 
 of habitual prompting to faithless political temporizing, 
 as well. 
 
 "Jump me no Jumps!" thundered and flamed the 
 injured and defrauded constituent springing to his feet, 
 and towering over his startled representative. "The 
 truth! Can you give me justice?" 
 
 "I cannot," said the congressman, surprised into 
 telling the truth. 
 
 "Then God help you and me!" cried the other, as 
 he turned and left the room. 
 
 "What's the matter, Blazes?" asked a friend, upon 
 Blazes' return to the adjoining apartment. 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Blazes lightly, "only a crazy claim- 
 ant." 
 
 Retribution! upon one and all — upon government 
 for unfettered and reckless men and women and chil- 
 dren, as they fly by day and night throughout the space 
 about us. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE RATS LEAVE THE SHIP.' 
 
 ""We wish to see Mrs. "Walker," Jason Jump was 
 speaking, at the door of a neglected and ill looking house 
 not far from the capitol. 
 
 "Come in," replied the slatternly female servant 
 who had answered the bell. 
 
 Jump and the counsellor of his revolt entered the 
 place, where the object of their call was to be found. It 
 was a mean, second-class rooming-house they were in. 
 Nostril and eye were alike greeted with the unsavory 
 evidences of the habitation of the congressional poor. 
 Age was rifling the walls of paper ; the furniture of up- 
 holstery, and the atmosphere, saturated with ancient 
 mustiness and time worn odors, of purity to the point of 
 decay and dissolution. These things will annoy congress 
 some day and it will have them removed — a mere annoy- 
 ance ! 
 
 Jump's companion sniffed the situation with little 
 apparent relish. 
 
 "Why," he exclaimed cynically, "do you want to 
 help them?" 
 
 "The woman — ^Irs. Walker — and her daughter — 
 Mona?" responded Jason mechanically. "I am still a 
 man. Our bargain — you remember. Brad, safe — safe 
 and respectable employment ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh," said the other carelessly, flicking the ash 
 from a piece of cigar he held in his hand, " I '11 stand by 
 my agreement vrith you.' ' 
 
 "Good," said the betrayed government applicant. 
 
 33 
 
34 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Mary Walker at this moment appeared. She looked 
 pale and worried. 
 
 Jason advanced, extended his hand and smiled. 
 
 "Did you see Blazes?" he asked pointedly. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Jump, yes; cannot we leave Washington 
 — leave it forever?" cried the woman excitedly. 
 
 "And Blazes ?" 
 
 "Cannot we leave Washington?" is all she could be 
 brought to say. 
 
 Jason Jump looked at her keenly. 
 
 "Forever — forever," she repeated eagerly. 
 
 "And," commented the already disappointed claim- 
 ant, gravely, "is it, indeed, that bad?" 
 
 "That bad and worse," and she burst into tears. 
 
 After struggling with her emotion for a moment, the 
 distressed woman went on more quietly: 
 
 "I am homeless — I am, I was about to say, friend- 
 less; but I feel gratefully sure, Mr. Jump, that you are 
 my friend. ' ' 
 
 Jump muttered something which sounded like, 
 
 ' ' Whatever else I am, I am that ! ' ' 
 
 But the object of his interest seemed to take no notice 
 and hurried on. 
 
 "Except for Mona," she said, pathetically and \\'ist- 
 fully looking into Jason Jump's sympathetic face, "I 
 am alone. She and her father, now dead, made up my 
 — our — existence. Selfishly, this man here — " she 
 avoided mention of a name — "selfishly, this man here 
 would play me false. He was to have secured me, not 
 my daughter, a position — work. He insists on the place 
 being given to Mona. I am perfectly competent — cap- 
 able ; he will not give me the place — he will not explain. 
 I am desperate. He will not help me. He owes it to the 
 memory of his friend, my dead husband, to do so. He 
 was greatly aided, by Col. Walker while alive, in his 
 
"THE RATS LEAVE THE SHIP." 35 
 
 present political fortunes. Col. Walker, you know, ]\Ir. 
 Jump," said the wife simply, "was a good soldier." 
 
 "I knew your husband, and of his friendship for — 
 the man," interjected Jump. "He was a brave officer." 
 "You knew him," said the woman, "but not me." 
 "Not till I met you here, after he died," said Jason. 
 
 "This — man," continued Mrs. Walker 
 
 They had been seated — Jason Jump, Simons and the 
 widowed applicant — and the old and insecure chair, on 
 which the bulky figure of Brad Simons had been resting, 
 suddenly as the sitter tilted back gave way, precipitating 
 the occupant sprawling upon the floor. The catastrophe, 
 under other and less trying circumstances, would have 
 been ludicrous enough and productive of an explosion of 
 mirth, but, at this stage of her experience and suffering, 
 it but intensified and brought into greater relief the 
 painfully sordid and humiliating situation of the un- 
 happy female. 
 
 In his surprise, Simons involuntarily uttered an 
 oath; apologized; got upon his feet; ruefully examined 
 the broken chair, and politely selected another and a 
 safer and firmer seat. Mrs. Walker, whose overwrought 
 nerves had already brought her to a state closely border- 
 ing upon hysteria, once more broke into tears ; and Jason 
 Jump silently anathematized congress, the government, 
 the president of the United States, the various governors 
 of the same, and "all others in authority." 
 
 After her second attack of chagrin and grief had, 
 with the woman, in a measure subsided, Jump spoke 
 soothingly and encouragingly. 
 
 "I have brought a friend," said Jason indicating 
 Brad Simons, to whom, since their entrance, Mrs. 
 Walker had been but formally introduced, — "a friend. 
 To leave you here is now, of course, impossible. Mr. 
 Simons will tell you." 
 
36 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Mr. Jump and I have arranged," said Simons 
 evenly, "if you will go, to take you and your daughter 
 away with us. She, as well as yourself, will be assured 
 of a means of support. ' ' Brad Simons waited. 
 
 The woman had never met Simons before the present 
 visit. However, she knew Jason Jump well, and felt 
 justified in trusting him fully. 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 "I — I know no other way." Mona's mother strug- 
 gled with herself — paused. ' ' What can we do ! give 
 us a little time — oh, we can do nothing but accept. ' ' 
 
 "Then," exclaimed Brad Simons cheerfully, "let 
 that be settled." 
 
 "It is settled," said Jason Jump, 
 
 The capitol, in brooding and solemn majesty, still 
 sat stately and silent upon the hill, when the two men 
 came forth from the woman 's dwelling place ; it did not 
 totter — it did not collapse and its walls crash in and 
 grind each other into dust — a dust to mercifully rise 
 above the wreck of sweet good faith to cloud and hide 
 the grinning and diabolical features of selfish and dis- 
 torted evil ever lurking behind society's humane edifice 
 of alluring promise, security and hope. 
 
 Not long after these happenings, there suddenly and 
 unannounced appeared in the midst of an unorganized 
 and lawless country element, in a disturbed locality of 
 the State of Indiana, a mysterious and unknown charac- 
 ter, strange and dominating to the duller and less acute 
 faculties of those with whom he seemed to have been 
 already prepared to cast his lot. The disorderly and dis- 
 connected outrages which, previously to the stranger's 
 coming, these unruly spirits had been accustomed to 
 perpetrate at random intervals upon the so called better 
 ordered portions of society were speedily welded and 
 
"THE RATS LEAVE THE SHIP." 37 
 
 united, by this sinister and unwelcome stranger, into an 
 organized and continuous unity. He had come among 
 ignorant and unlettered off-scourings of a primitive 
 region ; and soon, by profound craft and cunning, easily 
 subdued his crude and undeveloped associates to the en- 
 tire and complete mastership of his iron and inflexible 
 will. He was gifted with a singular intelligence, which 
 would have been called commanding intellect under any 
 other guise than that of a seemingly uncouth, uncultured 
 countryman. The newcomer was apparently unedu- 
 cated — a coarse-fibered fellow — the male, brutal, primal 
 — in all, save concern for the female. > 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 * ' THE OTHER WOM.IN IN THE CASE. ' ' 
 
 The child, at last, was born. The breathless world 
 had waited — that is, the breathless little world of the 
 obscure country folk way down in Indiana. And it was 
 a fine girl. Old Doctor Swathburn, who had invariably 
 presided over the introduction of worthy members of 
 society into the world on like interesting occasions — and 
 given calomel and herbs to every patient in the section 
 of country his duties had covered — for a quarter of a 
 century, congratulated tlie country people, man and 
 wife, on the happy and successful outcome, and smiled, 
 as was his custom, benignantly and cheerfully whenever 
 opportunity offered. The genial old physician was be- 
 loved, respected and trusted by everyone, although quite 
 indifferent and callous to all ideas of modern advance- 
 ment, viewing the aggravating and vexing innovations 
 of his brother practitioners as not only infringements 
 upon his own rights and privileges but upon right and 
 justice in the abstract. The young lady, for whose en- 
 ticing appearance upon the scene of our story we are, 
 in part, indebted to the amiable offices of benevolent 
 Doctor Swathburn, at the early period of her first en- 
 trance into this life found herself, though it may be un- 
 consciously, projected into this very atmosphere of oppo- 
 sition to the enlightened, more humane and more sen- 
 sible methods of doing things. The face set sternly 
 against advancement is not new. The child, one day 
 grown older, was to demand a better understanding and 
 enlightenment of "old fogyism." Extending to all 
 
 38 
 
' ' THE OTHER WOMAN IN THE CASE. ' ' 39 
 
 professions — to that of law, of education, of religion — 
 her life was destined to have, in the groping darkness of 
 the environment of her birth, a fitting note, as it were, 
 of initiation. 
 
 We do not want to advance ; we want to sit still — 
 enjoy old bigotry and conditions. The railroad will 
 take us to the Sea of Galilee, and we feel, somehow, that 
 we have committed sacrilege beyond redemption when 
 the brakeman puts his head in the car door and shouts, 
 "Nazareth — all off," now don't we? Pride of convic- 
 tion brooks no correction. Plowever, it is one of the ex- 
 quisite sacrifices demanded of us, that we give up the 
 old for the new. With our pride in the past taxed by 
 our untried faith in the future, the surrender of long 
 established beliefs offers, perhaps, the one great problem 
 of our lives. Could we but graciously accept the inevi- 
 table degree of necessary relinquishment involved in all 
 development, happiness were assured. 
 
 The child was like any other child — it was born; it 
 was brought into life with the same old questions as 
 regards a state of previous being and one hereafter, and 
 it required the same old general diet — milk. It was 
 pink, as usual, in color, and called for the same old atten- 
 tions, in the infantile and maternal matter of diminu- 
 tive articles of attire, that the institution of babydora 
 has rendered hoary and reverend throughout the ages. 
 It was a good baby — so its mother would have us believe 
 — it did not cry (very often), and was surprisingly in- 
 telligent — it looked at you out of its eyes! All these 
 things marked it as worthy of remark and stamped it as 
 remarkable. The little thing did not, so far as we may 
 here give out, know that it had a large share of trials 
 awaiting it in the new world into which it had been 
 ushered; and we feel an ever increasing reluctance to 
 needlessly darken the atmosphere of this period of its 
 
40 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 life, with any form of religious or social skepticism or 
 doubt. That the hidden and unexplored future had in 
 store its own portion of cares for the wee mite — the tiny 
 wayfarer — might not be denied; but that we should, for 
 any cause whatsoever, be obliged to yiew the conditions 
 of its existence, either at any time before its coming, or 
 now, or hereafter, in any other than an unquestioningly 
 and absolutely hopeful and cheerful sense may be 
 doubted, the matter dismissed and the little one permit- 
 ted to go to sleep. 
 
 After the child got a bit older, it was christened in 
 a church. It was called Delia, the surname being Brad- 
 dock. The name Delia soon became abbreviated to De, 
 and De she vras always called. When the baby grew up 
 it developed originality; and it is here we have an un- 
 avoidable duty to perform concerning the reader's in- 
 terest before proceeding further into the really enter- 
 taining, exciting and thrilling narrative we have to re- 
 late. 
 
 Let it first be clearly understood that I do not deny 
 the essential truth of Scriptures ; but rest upon their im- 
 plied if not literal promise of a new dispensation, and in 
 the blessed assurance of their power to "bind and 
 loose. ' ' 
 
 About the first thing the age, following the teachings 
 of the Christian Era, fastens upon a child — causes it, 
 indeed, to fully realize — is Fear, — the attempt is even 
 gravely made to control infant love through fear, and 
 the amazing and eminently fitting and proper result is 
 productive of profound edification! The first worthy 
 lessons, in the divinely beautiful atmosphere of home, 
 are Fear of Parental Punishment ; The Dark Room, with 
 its nameless, unreal, soul inspiring horrors, and, last but 
 not least, the carefully instructed, entrancing and trem- 
 bling fright of the childish monster of iniquity in the 
 
' ' THE OTHER WOMAN IN TPIE CASE. ' ' 41 
 
 face of God Almiglity. Perhaps, it has not yet occurred 
 to us to endeavor to inculcate virtue only for virtue's 
 sake, unselfishness only for unselfishness' sake, truth 
 only for truth's sake, — but we do it in cringing coward- 
 ice and terror, where principle alone for principle's 
 sake has no part ; and what a field of fruitful perfection 
 and soul satisfying wisdom is bountifully provided! 
 
 We are unhappily yet the unjust and slavish sul)- 
 jeets of the prejudices and effects of mortal fear and 
 frenzied dread derived from our earliest and most im- 
 pressionable period — childhood. We are still controlled 
 in the supreme rule and even in the superstition of 
 religion's abhorrent precept of eternal punishment sup- 
 ported by the commands and teachings of a zealous and 
 unquestioning church, which employs fear for its ruling 
 force. This is our measure of delicious happiness, joy, 
 and All-Love ! — You, crippled and stunted in your mind 
 and heart from birth, have had this to contend with; I 
 have had it; we all have walked maimed and shorn of 
 our natural rights and stature in the hardening and toil- 
 ing if necessary past. It is, therefore, not Avouderful 
 that little De should have the same conditions beset her 
 own baljy way ; and, in after years, should find her soul 
 recoil from the hideous attempt to make eternal — make 
 earthly life conform to such unheard of present seeming 
 absurdities and impossibilities. 
 
 She signaled her advent into the growing stages of 
 small girlhood by a singularly keen and intelligent view 
 of the situation. The infallible kindness of motherly love, 
 upon one occasion under the rule of fear, had inflicted 
 the usual punishment for some minor offense that might 
 have gone without chastisement altogether had it but 
 received the attention it alone merited. The parent being 
 promptly and truthfully informed, by her helpless off- 
 spring, that her mother would not do such things if she 
 
42 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 were not "the biggest," in a further burst of rapturous 
 affection locked the dangerous and menacing character 
 in a dark closet. De is reported as vowing she would 
 never come out any more. And, in all likelihood, she 
 never would have done so had not a gleam of intelligence 
 appeared, after a while, to take possession of the brain 
 of her well meaning though misguided parent, who went 
 to the closet in time to get the child do\\Ti from an at- 
 tempt to hang itself. The youthful mind had just real- 
 ized the result of coming into such a world, and had lost 
 no time in evincing a surprising though mistaken desire 
 of getting out of it. The surpassing beauties of "spare 
 the rod and spoil the child" were thus made duly mani- 
 fest. De, however, an exception to the majority, was 
 not made viciously deceitful by such training ; and fared 
 on to the end with the nobility and native truth of her 
 character unspoiled by the ordinarily fatal mistakes of 
 "bringing up." 
 
 Punishment makes wrong, not right. 
 
 Child slavery, the rule of the weak by the strong, the 
 oppression of the young by their forebears and those in 
 authority, exists in other and far more reprehensible 
 and hurtful forms than those of the mills and the mines. 
 
 After awhile De grew to be quite a girl. The farm 
 interested her; she made effort to be obedient, and her 
 parents had little cause to complain. She displayed a 
 tendency, however, to learn in other fields. She was 
 an apt scholar in the neighborhood country school ; and 
 so apparent v/as her disposition to acquire knowledge, 
 that, in the unlettered minds of her parents, it early be- 
 came a curious subject of discussion what to do with her. 
 The father and mother had lived on their farm all their 
 lives ; were, in their way, conscientious and God fearing. 
 If they, themselves, were possessed of the advantages of 
 any schooling, those advantages consisted of the most 
 
"THE OTHER WOMAN IN THE CASE." 43 
 
 primitive and elementary kind, and the results embraced 
 the possible ability, after a fashion, to read, write and 
 cipher. This is a tale of the simplest elements of life, 
 those from which the fabric of existence is constructed 
 as the clay image is molded out of the primeval loam. 
 At the very threshold of learning, how could jMother 
 Braddock and old Uncle Peter know, appreciate or real- 
 ize that their child might have leanings to things of an- 
 other world than theirs — the world of modern thought 
 and enlightenment? But De had just these leanings. 
 The old people, with their prejudices, had to give way, 
 and De went to a more advanced medium of education 
 than that afforded by the simple system in operation at 
 the little country schoolhouse near the old homestead. 
 Notwithstanding, the difference between the country 
 schoolhouse and the new school was not so great ; and her 
 surroundings at the small neighboring town, where her 
 search for knowledge had placed her, continued to be of 
 the humblest. She was, however, bright, quick and in- 
 telligent; and soon began to be looked upon as some- 
 thing of a prodigy. Such instructions as she obtained 
 were entirely non-sectarian. The earlier neighborhoods, 
 in rural localities, possessed, kindly to a free intellect, 
 few other educational advantages. She was reared, so 
 far as religion went, in the faith of her parents. Her 
 mother and her father became ]\Iethodists when their 
 mothers and tlieir fathers brought tliem, as infants, into 
 the world ; as her grandmother and her grandfather and 
 a dim line of ancestors had borne Methodism with them. 
 De began with the Methodists; but, by and by, startled 
 her shocked and scandalized neiglibors and family by 
 becoming a Catholic — a Roman Catholic. In De's time, 
 the ignorant bigotry and superstition of all sects viewed 
 with horror, hatred and exclusion — really, three saerod 
 and holy principles to employ in the fraternity and 
 
44 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 brotherhood of Christ ( ?) — viewed with horror, hatred 
 and exclusion each and every other's creed and sect. 
 De, as a Roman Catholic, was finally accepted by her 
 family and friends; for, after the manner of existing 
 humankind, she was beloved by all ; but there was some- 
 thing strange about the girl that few could understand, 
 and which caused her many times to be viewed, by old 
 Peter and Martha Braddock, with puzzled interest and 
 grave speculation. 
 
 And so De, -wdth her originality and the thousand 
 and one things it implied, was destined to become a very 
 remarkable ''other woman in the case." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 BRAD SIMONS AND DE BRADDOCK, 
 
 Brad Simons was an older man than De Braddock 
 was a woman; and occasioned some comment when it 
 appeared that he had fallen in love with her. It was 
 when De came out of school that it became apparent 
 Brad was bent on marrying her. She certainly did not 
 favor his suit. Her father was always impressed with 
 Brad's bank account; while Martha Braddock as 
 strongly sympathized with her child. Simons stood high 
 in the community and gave no cause of question or sus- 
 picion. He was thrifty, and at all times found means 
 to impress his neighbors and companions favorably. He 
 appeared to attend strictly to his own affairs which 
 were large; and even Bob Likkum, who disliked him, 
 failed to find specific reason for his dislike save in 
 Simons' unconcealed disposition to drive the closest pos- 
 sible bargains, at any cost and at all seasons, in business. 
 Brad often came to see De, not directly, but upon a 
 pretense of visiting Peter Braddock, her father, on farm 
 or cattle matters, or to gossip with IMartha, her mother, 
 when Peter was in the field. 
 
 The rural locality occupied by these people had, over 
 a lengthy period of time, been scourged by upsparing 
 and malignant lawlessness which, for some mysterious 
 rrascn, Vv'as now on the increase; cattle stealing and 
 various depredations being of more frequent and com- 
 mon occurrence. Enlightened detection was but just 
 
 45 
 
46 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 beginning to glimmer; together with the appearance of 
 the first ditching machine, the reaper and the mower. 
 
 "Mother," Peter would sometimes say, "ye'd 
 oughtn 't to let De, er ye 'd oughtn 't yerself , go out alone 
 in the kentry so much ; send ur take Esau weth ye. Ye 
 never know whut mout happen." 
 
 And Mother Braddock would laugh and reply: 
 
 ' ' The gal an ' me might be old enough by now, father, 
 to take keer uv ourselves. Drat that Esau ! ' ' exclaimed 
 mother, her tone changing to one of good natured rail- 
 lery; "he'd be 'bout 'smuch good ez a suckin' calf. Ef 
 anythin' happened, he'd want ter come hum right away 
 an' git somep'n' t' eat," the last being an expression of 
 deep disgust, referring to an abnormal and incurable 
 physical appetite belonging to the young and ingenuous 
 farm assistant in question. 
 
 However, so far, no indications had occurred that the 
 secret purposes of the outlaws had, in any way, become 
 involved with the lives or other affairs of the Braddock 
 household ; and the sky of its daily routine had remained 
 clear. But the usual cloud no bigger than a man's hand 
 was just about showing in the domestic horizon. 
 
 "Mother," said Peter, one day, "I've lost two head 
 uv them there blooded cattle down in the medder." 
 
 "Them band uv thieves," exploded Mrs. Braddock. 
 
 "Think likely," said the old man. 
 
 De, standing by, interposed firmly : 
 
 "It's high time something was done to break up that 
 organization of shame and disgrace to this community. 
 It seems to be growing worse instead of better. It's 
 an outrage, father, on law and decency." 
 
 "They be afeerd uv 'em," observed Peter Braddock. 
 
 "They — who?" inquired his daughter. 
 
 "Why, da 'ter, ter tell the truth," replied the old 
 man, perplexedly scratching his head, "everybody — 
 
BRAD SIMONS AND DE BRADDOCK. 47 
 
 they ain't none but whut hez, ez the feller sez, a hul- 
 some an' superstishus dread uv 'em." 
 
 "Are you that way?" asked De, with a show of grow- 
 ing spirit. 
 
 "Now, see here, da'ter," rejoined the father, "ye 
 mustn't be too hard on the ol' feller — that's me, yer 
 daddie; but, I tell ye, gal, I've seen 'smuch uv their 
 doin 's, I hev ', 'at I don 't know ef I ain 't 'bout 'sbad ez 
 the balance, w'en 'tcomes to tacklin' 'em — them thieves 
 an' cutthroats. They's some kind uv a sayin' sfoin' 
 aroun,' that the gang's led by someun' — don't know 
 who — 'at's hed some trouble — th' law's done 'im some 
 dirt — onjestice er other — an' they're jes' nach'ly 
 a-gittin' even like. Don't know," concluded Uncle 
 Peter shaking his head sadly. 
 
 "H-e-1-l-o, P-e-t-e-r," called a voice from the road. 
 
 "There's Brad — Brad Simons; 'u'd know 'is voice 
 anyw'eres," and, with this observation, Peter hurried 
 out of the house. 
 
 "What does he want with father, I wonder, mother," 
 remarked De as the old farmer went quickly out of the 
 room. 
 
 "Dunno, child," replied Mrs. Braddock indulgently. 
 
 "Hi, Peter," said Simons accosting Braddock, as 
 the latter came from the house ; ' ' understand you 've lost 
 some cattle lately. That true ? ' ' 
 
 "That be about right, Brad, I have," returned the 
 farmer walking up to the fence, on the other side of 
 which, in the road, Brad Simons sat upon a large bay 
 horse. "Wisht I know'd where they wmz, I do." 
 
 "How many'd you lose?" further questioned the 
 friendly disposed horseman. 
 
 "Two — only two, but them's enuff," rejoined Peter 
 Braddock disconsolately. "And th' way that 'air dang 
 gang's a-goin' on, in this here kentry, weth other things 
 
48 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 belonging to everybody, it's likely to be lots more, 'fore 
 they git through. They're a bad lot, Brad, 'n' murder 's 
 not past 'em. Fu'st trouble they've giv' me, tho'." 
 
 "And the last, if I can put a stop to it," replied 
 Brad sympatheticallj'', and A^th a peculiar emphasis 
 which escaped Uncle Peter's attention at the time. 
 
 Peter Braddock said nothing. He, of course, had no 
 reason for \dsiting the man before him vrith the faintest 
 shadow of suspicion or distrust concerning the general 
 wrongdoing under discussion and prevalent in that 
 vicinity. In fact, whatever was Simons' knowledge of 
 the doings of the freebooters, the cattle trader had been 
 ignorant of any designs upon old Braddock, or with his 
 own interest in and a certain respect he cherished for 
 De he had refused to countenance them. Presently, as 
 Brad continued to sit upon his horse in silence and as 
 though lost in thought gaze off in the distance, Peter 
 said he was "very much obleeged fur his good will, and 
 would Simons git do^^'n an' kum in?" 
 
 "No, not now; but, Peter, that matter I was speak- 
 ing to you about — about De, j^ou know, — well," and the 
 man showed a conscious awkwardness as he twisted his 
 horse 's bridle rein, ' ' you see, — well, ' ' clearing his throat, 
 "I'd like to find out, don't you know, what De, herself, 
 might think of " 
 
 "Yer marryin' 'er?" quizzed the other, with a little 
 pang, helping the backward swain out. "Ask 'er, Brad. 
 Ye kin soon tell, then. "We sot a mighty store by De, we 
 do, mother an' me, but ef ye kin make the gal happy, 
 we mustn't stan' in th' way of a free ch'ice. Ast 'er, 
 Brad, ast 'er. " 
 
 "Thank you, Peter, thank you," replied Simons, 
 seemingly relieved ; " I will. I know there 's a difference 
 in our ages — quite a difference, in fact; but I honestly 
 do not see how that should stand in the way. I am rid- 
 
BRAD SIMONS AND DE BRADDOCK. 49 
 
 ing on a piece, and I'll kindo' look in as I'm coming 
 back. What say?" 
 
 "So do, Brad, so do," rejoined the old man with 
 a touch of kindly heartiness not unmixed, however, with 
 a hint of sadness in his voice ; ' ' always glad ter welcome 
 ye, ye know that. ' ' 
 
 Brad touched up his horse and with an expression of 
 thanks passed on up the road. 
 
 In their domestic council chamber, Uncle Peter and 
 mother had decided to give the matter of Mr. Simons' 
 fate entirely into the hands of De herself. So the re- 
 signed farmer stood and watched the cattle merchant 
 ride away. 
 
 "]\Iaybe, it's best fur the gal, — maybe 'tis, — but 
 she's our da 'ter," and now there were real tears in the 
 old father's keen, dark, expressive eyes and in his voice, 
 too. "He's mighty well off, though," and the hard- 
 fisted tiller of the soil made an effort to satisfy his rebel- 
 lious heart with this commonly unfailing recourse; but 
 he found it unusually difficult to bring relief to-day. 
 "Maybe," he muttered wistfully, struggling to recover 
 his self composure, — "maybe, it's fur the best." 
 
 Peter Braddock kept what had passed between him- 
 self and Brad Simons in the road that day, affecting the 
 imminence and seriousness of Brad's views regarding 
 Peter's child, carefully within the privacy of his own 
 breast ; not even telling ' ' mother ; ' ' and purposely avoid- 
 ing any mention of it to De herself. 
 
 He went into the house. 
 
 "What'd Brad want, paw?" asked Martha Brad- 
 dock. 
 
 "Oh, was sorry I'd lost them cattle and said, if he 
 could do anything to help me git 'em er stop the stealin', 
 he would." Brad's manner had intentionally left old 
 Peter under the impression that the cattleman would be 
 
50 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 useful not only in stopping further thefts but in recov- 
 ering the property already stolen. 
 
 De, in all innocence, was obliged to admit that this 
 was kind of Brad whose own large dealings in cattle 
 might enable him to serve them most effectively. 
 
 If Peter Braddock was keeping his own counsel, so 
 was Brad Simons. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE COUNTRY SCHOOLHOUSE. 
 
 "You are the new teacher, I believe?" said De Brad- 
 dock to a tastefully dressed and pretty young woman 
 with a suit of wonderful gold bronze hair, at the to^\^l of 
 
 T , one day, as the two passed out of the postofiQce 
 
 together. 
 
 The person addressed looked inquiringly at her ques- 
 tioner. 
 
 "I am De Braddock," said De simply. "I under- 
 stood they had a new teacher in our neighborhood — our 
 farm lies near the school." 
 
 "Yes?" replied De's companion smilingly. "I am," 
 she went on freely, for she had been pleasantly impressed 
 by the other's frank and open face, "what you would 
 call a teacher; and," she added, with a little laugh, 
 ' ' maybe, ' new, ' in more senses than one. I am teaching, 
 for the first time. I hope I '11 suit. ' ' 
 
 "Oh," rejoined De, impulsively liking the girl, "I'm 
 sure you will." 
 
 "The last teacher, I believe, was rather a hard task- 
 master and the scholars drove him off, did they not?" 
 queried the fresh aspirant to the instructor's role. 
 
 "They'll like you, though," said De. 
 
 "I have not been here long," continued the young 
 teacher ; ' ' and I am very glad to meet people. We have 
 
 51 
 
52 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 just come from Washington — mother and I. My name 
 is Mona Walker." 
 
 Mona Walker — had the shadowy shapes of Jason 
 Jump's haunting past of injustice, in the person of the 
 girl whom he had rescued from the dangerous moral 
 sway of Swarth Blazes, fallen thus early across the unex- 
 plored path of De Braddock's life! And, wdth the 
 drifting appearance of these shapes, there came an echo 
 as from some lingering and sorrowful melody dying 
 away in mournful memories of other days. Would the 
 once saddened strains of times gone by blend, without 
 discord, with the more cheerful harmonies of the present ? 
 
 Mona Walker's existence had been one of quiet, sim- 
 ple, unassuming devotion to her mother — to her home 
 ties — different, in this respect, from no average in the vast 
 body of humankind. Were it not, as Lord Byron has said, 
 that the history of any life, however obscure and com- 
 monplace, may if properly recounted be made interest- 
 ing, how few of us would offer matter of sufficient im- 
 portance or concern to occupy an idle moment. IMona 
 was scarcely out of her teens; but, with the moving, 
 ever stirring, ever struggling stream of humanity, she 
 had to work. From man, woman or child, is the load 
 of labor and conscious or unconscious responsibility 
 never lifted. We can but try to lighten the burdens 
 of them we love ! Mona Walker, as she was at Washing- 
 ton, was still the one companion of her mother — widow- 
 hood, the fatherless and affection inseparably binding 
 together the daughter and the parent. The latter, upon 
 the arrival in Indiana, had accepted an offer, on the part 
 of Brad Simons, to take charge of his housekeeping ; and 
 the two — Mona and her mother — lived upon Simons' 
 farm. The widow would gladly have given the daughter 
 independence had she been able. She was not. The off- 
 spring, as did the parent, contributed her portion to the 
 
THE COUNTRY SCHOOLHOUSE. 53 
 
 common support; and, following an arrangement which 
 Jason Jump had furthered, and happily freed from the 
 menace at Washington, entered cheerfully upon the dis- 
 charge of her simple duties as teacher in the little coun- 
 try school in De Braddock's neighborhood. 
 
 De said she would be glad to make Miss "Walker 
 acquainted \nth her own friends and those surroundings 
 mth which one placed in the position of the new in- 
 structress would have to become familiar; and the two 
 at once entered upon a footing of agreeable and neigh- 
 borly friendship. 
 
 Before they separated, Mona Walker's new friend 
 remarked : 
 
 "We have, at our house, the biggest goose of a fat 
 farmboy — Esau is his name. He is such a big, good nat- 
 ured fellow, that you can't help taking an interest in 
 him. There 's one thing about him, ' ' said De in explana- 
 tion : ' ' Where everyone, in this region, seems afraid as 
 death of the outlaws — you haven't heard of them? 
 they're dreadful — w^here everyone seems afraid as death 
 of them, why, Esau does not appear to mind them any 
 more than if they did not exist. He's very ignorant, 
 though, and I should like for him to study with you. ' ' 
 
 "The outlaws! are there outlaws?" queried Mona 
 Walker anxiously. 
 
 "Oh, yes," responded De Braddock easily, display- 
 ing one of her owti leading characteristics — an indiffer- 
 ence to fear. ' ' Can you take Esau ? ' ' 
 
 "I will do the best for him. Miss Braddock, that I 
 can." 
 
 "Oh, thank you," rejoined De gratefully. 
 
 It happened, in this way, that Esau, the Braddock 
 farmboy, was afforded facilities for acquiring an edu- 
 cation; and, for the remnant of the school year, during 
 
54 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 that spring, could be seen drooping in fat and laborious 
 effort over a desk in the country schoolroom. 
 
 The school year had not yet expired, although the 
 hot weather had set in, and school, to be sure, was a blaz- 
 ing and monstrous abuse to any youngster who, desk- 
 bound, could smell the woods and dream of diving holes, 
 yet could see, nor feel, neither. Horrible ! 
 
 A little country frame schoolhouse, by the roadside, 
 with a -^vdde piece of unfenced, hazel-bush-sprinkled 
 door-plot between the front door and the highway; the 
 children, from the adjacent farms, with slates and bocks — 
 some earnest and brisk, in the cooler, early morning, 
 others lagging lazily with tardy step, or scurrying and 
 rouiping blithely and merrily through the fields, or 
 bursting with shouts out of nearby woods; the teacher, 
 in her unassuming dress, quietly entering the door of the 
 modest and unpretentious house of learning — these were 
 some of the varied objects and occurrences, which, some- 
 time after De and ]\Iona met in T , caused a stocky 
 
 built, powerful, black-bearded man to stop and speak 
 gruffly to a girl about ten years of age, who stood gazing 
 with childish interest at the sports of the other children, 
 
 ' ' I say, sis, where 's yer teacher ? ' ' asked the man. 
 
 The child, as children will, stood spellbound by 
 something in the other's manner hard to define, but 
 which conveyed a species of creeping terror with it — a 
 subtle and unaccountable threat of lurking danger. Her 
 gruff questioner watched the child's speechless counte- 
 nance until evil patience became exhausted, and made a 
 menacing gesture as if to force his unwilling subject to 
 answer him. The child shrank away in fear, and a fat 
 boy of seventeen, who sat on a stump a little waj"- off 
 from v/here the child and man were standing, called out, 
 
 "You leave her alone." 
 
 The fellow, wearing a beard, turned in tlie direction 
 
THE COUNTRY SCIIOOLIIOUSE. 55 
 
 of the voice, and, perceiving the lad on the stump, forced 
 a deep scowl to his features. 
 
 ' ' Sonny, ye know whut the ol ' hen said to the pullet, 
 when the little chicken went out where the fox wuz?" 
 asked the man smoothly and darkly. 
 
 "No," said the boy doggedly. 
 
 " 'Ye 're crazy ez a loon,' that's w'at she said. Now, 
 miss," to the little girl, "I ain't a-goin' to hev' people, 
 in these here parts, a-refusin' what I wants." He caught 
 and shook the child, though not severely. The little girl 
 began to whimper. The fat boy rolled off the stump, 
 onto his feet. "Where," the examiner again asked of 
 the small girl, "is yer teacher?" 
 
 The fat youngster, in clumsy haste, w^addled over to 
 the rear of the persecutor of his little companion-pupil. 
 
 ' ' Leave 'er be, ' ' said the boy. 
 
 "Oh, you, ag'in," retorted the man wheeling quickly 
 on his opponent. "Thought I told ye — git out," kick- 
 ing suddenly at the fat boy. 
 
 The latter lumberingly dodged and escaped infliction 
 of the intended punishment. His assailant let loose of 
 the little girl and started for the fat boy. 
 
 "Esau," piped the child, " he— he '11— kill us— he— 
 he'll kill ye — o-o-o-h! — " and, in real fright and aroused 
 efforts at safety, the first object of the displeasure of the 
 black-bearded man set up a wdld and wailing shriek of 
 distress and apprehension. 
 
 The man roughly caught Esau by the collar and 
 shook him vigorously and noticeably with far more sever- 
 ity than that employed on the other sex. 
 
 "You quit that," gasped the fat boy. 
 
 At this instant the teacher appeared at the door of 
 the schoolhouse, hurriedly brought hither by the pupil's 
 cry of alarm for herself and concern for her young 
 champion, Esau. 
 
56 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Wliat is it, Fanny?" called the teacher when, 
 catching sight of the ruffian shaking her other charge, 
 she ran swiftly out and up to the man, grasping him 
 firmly by the arm, 
 
 "Stop that, this instant. What do you mean?" she 
 •demanded indignantly. 
 
 The stranger looked abashed as he dropped his hold 
 on Esau and turned to the young woman. 
 
 "I meant no harm, mum — jes' stirrin' 'em up a bit 
 — that 'sail." 
 
 "I allow no one to abuse my pupils, sir; do not ever 
 do so again," returned the indignant young woman with 
 flashing eyes and heaving breast. "Now what do you 
 want here ? Say it and begone. ' ' 
 
 His manner to this woman was all gentleness. 
 
 "Northin' — northin', miss," replied the other propi- 
 tiatingly. "Jes' — well, I jes' stopped to — well, — " he 
 removed his hat; rubbed his forehead; replaced his hat; 
 looked long and searchingly into the face of the teacher 
 Mona Walker, and abruptly turned and left her, moving 
 heavily though rapidly down the road. 
 
 "Now, children, come into school," said Mona. 
 
 Sobbing and screwing her knuckles into her eyes, the 
 small girl followed by the fat boy entered the school- 
 house in the wake of her guardian. 
 
 The man with the black beard walked on in silence 
 for some time. At length he muttered as he gazed about 
 upon the surrounding woods : 
 
 "She didn't know me. Didn't want her to — just 
 ■wanted to see if she would ; but it hurts, anyway. If site 
 don't know me, the rest Avon't — no, the rest will not." 
 
 He slouched on and, arriving at a point in the high- 
 road at a safe distance from the place of liis recent ex- 
 periences at the sehoolhouse, he glanced around cau- 
 tiously and whistled softly. From among the trees lin- 
 
THE COUNTRY SCHOOLIIOUSE. 57 
 
 ing the roadside issued, as in response to a signal, a sec- 
 ond man of as forbidding an appearance as the first. 
 
 '•"Where be t' others?" demanded the man who had 
 whistled. 
 
 "Layin' back in th' w^oods," returned the other. 
 
 "Skin back — 111 foller," rejoined his companion 
 shortly. 
 
 The last comer turned and disappeared in the thick 
 growth of forest ; and the man left behind paused a mo- 
 ment in the roadway, looking back in the direction 
 whence he had come, wdtli a searching and even longing 
 gaze. The next instant he wheeled swiftly and entered 
 the wood whither his late companion had gone. 
 
 He tore his way through the dry, rotten and tangled 
 undergrowth, pushing aside obstructing branches of 
 bushes and trees, until, when a hundred yards or more 
 had been thus traversed, he came upon a rocky glen. 
 Gathered here, in a hollow amidst huge boulders and the 
 numerous objects of rough, broken forest existence, was 
 a group of men — five or six — all bearing the same char- 
 acteristics of ruffianly aspect which marked him of the 
 black beard and the man who had recently met him in 
 the road. 
 
 The newcomer, giving but a slight look of seeming 
 scrutiny at the knot of ill favored figures assembled in 
 his view, appeared to detach himself from any further 
 interest in this portion of his surroundings and, with 
 something like a sigh, seated himself upon the trunk of 
 a decayed tree which had fallen, in its day, before the 
 force and fury of the storm. Here he remained, moody 
 and silent. The member of the group, who had just pre- 
 ceded the sitting figure hither, glanced significantly 
 from the oblivious man to the others and, in low tones, 
 observed : 
 
58 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Ye know he's that way, at times. Git along. 
 There 's plenty to do, ' ' and waved them from the spot. 
 
 Silently and in seeming understanding of their 
 duties, one after another they passed away among the 
 rocks and trees, and left their late director alone \dth 
 his strange companion who, apparently unconscious of 
 all about him and wrapped in gloomy and solitary med- 
 itation, still sat on the rotten bole of the old tree. 
 
 "I sent th' letter ter White," said the other, ap- 
 proaching the lonely figure on the tree trunk. 
 
 "Good," returned the man addressed, without look- 
 ing at his companion. "Foller the fellers. I'll stay 
 here fur a spell. Meet me down th ' road d 'reckly. ' ' 
 
 "Is that all ye'd hev'?" queried the other man 
 doubtfully. 
 
 "All jes' now. Hen," replied his companion, in the 
 same manner of complete and somber abstraction that 
 had possessed him since the affair at the schoolhouse. 
 
 With every appearance of the deepest and most per- 
 plexed reluctance and scanning the form upon the old 
 tree in a baffled way, the dismissed seeker for informa- 
 tion slowly departed. 
 
 "lie's a good un', an' all thet," he muttered as he 
 withdrevv^ "but I'd like to know more about him. Who 
 is he?" 
 
 And the ruminating man in the wood, left behind to 
 his solitude upon the tempest blasted tree, gave no an- 
 swer to this question; but sat and watched the clouds 
 sailing overhead above the open space of the forest ; and 
 ground his teeth; and cried out and writhed as one, in 
 the trial of soul and spirit, cries out to the still and unre- 
 sponsive void of the universe. 
 
 The shadows — the phantoms — were still abroad! 
 
 "Now, see here. Miss Mona, ye knows I'm not very 
 
THE COUNTRY SCIIOOLIIOUSE. o9 
 
 foright," said Esau at the school; and Mona was inter- 
 rupted in an attempt to convey to the sluggish intellect 
 of the fat country boy a measure of soothing falsehood 
 affecting the possession, on the part of De Braddock's 
 favorite, of brilliant talents, by the entrance of De her- 
 self. 
 
 "Esau, what is that word?" asked Miss Walker 
 when she had greeted her visitor cordially — De, stand- 
 ing near the two, watching with some anxiety the hoped- 
 for manifestation, by her charge, of ordinary human in- 
 telligence. 
 
 "Dunno," said Esau. 
 
 ' ' You don 't know ! Whj^ Esau, ' ' urged Tilona, ' ' look 
 at it." The farmboy stood crowded by the side of his 
 teacher with his head down close to the book which, sit- 
 ting at her desk overlooking the schoolroom full of 
 scholars, Miss Walker held for Esau's inspection. "See 
 — now, I spell it — d-r-i-v-e, — can you not tell? Why, 
 what does Mr. Braddock do when he goes to town with 
 you and the family, in the big wagon ? ' ' 
 
 "Raises thunder when the wimmen folks ain't ready 
 in time, ' ' promptly responded Esau. 
 
 With a look of shocked amazement ]\Iiss Walker 
 turned apologetically to De, when they both broke out 
 laughing, the school, in various stages of hilarious treble, 
 gleefully following suit. 
 
 "There, there, Esau," said the teacher kindly, while 
 covering De's impulse of awkward embarrassment as 
 best she could, "go to your place and study. Children, 
 
 please keep order. Now, Miss Braddock " 
 
 Both young women, at this moment, glanced sim- 
 ultaneously out of the window at sound of hoofbeats, 
 in the road, breaking in unexpectedly upon jMona's in- 
 tended remark. 
 
 "Why," exclaimed De, a blush, which did not escape 
 
60 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Mona's feminine observation, mantling her cheek, 
 "there's William White!" 
 
 "There are two," said Mona with a curious interest. 
 
 "Mr. White is the younger, with light hair," re- 
 marked De, a little reserved. "The other " 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' interposed the young teacher, — ' ' the other ? ' * 
 
 "Oh," replied Mona's companion, "that is Parson 
 Woods." 
 
 "Oh," said Mona. 
 
 The two horsemen, dismounting, entered the school- 
 room. 
 
 "The new teacher," said the parson with the interest 
 of a public responsibility in his manner, when De had 
 introduced William White and the pastor to Mona 
 Walker. "Glad to meet you. Stopped to see how you 
 would be coming on in your new position." 
 
 ]\Iona, with the feeling of curious and strange inter- 
 est that had possessed her on her first glimpse, through 
 the window, of the approaching horsemen, found her- 
 self engaged in animated and entertaining conversation 
 with the preacher, a man of dark hair and eyes and 
 smoothly shaven face. His age might have been about 
 thirty-nine. 
 
 De and William left the schoolroom, and lingered in 
 the open space without. 
 
 "De," said the man, "they say, since Brad Simons 
 has returned from Washington, that — that — well, that 
 you're — that he " 
 
 "William, don't be silly. That, what?" 
 
 "They say — " stammered White apparently much 
 embarrassed, and breaking off disconnectedly — "oh, if 
 I was anything but a beggar of a w-riter ! ' ' 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "May I come over, this evening?" concluded the dif- 
 fident wooer lamely and ingloriously. 
 
THE COUNTRY SCIIOOLHOUSE. 61 
 
 De bit her lips, partly in disappointment, partly in 
 pained amusement. 
 
 "Yes, William, — you're always welcome." 
 
 "Thank you," said William humbly. 
 
 The two men presently withdrew ; the school hummed 
 and buzzed at intervals as schools do, and was quickly 
 quieted by the patient teacher as schools are, only to 
 hum and buzz again; nature, without, called, in faint, 
 far off cadences, from cool, green forest glades; the 
 man, seated upon the bolt riven tree in the wood, con- 
 tinued to groan in the misery of his solitude, and the 
 eld world with its little beginnings making great end- 
 ings went rolling on. 
 
 When William White, a talented character with a 
 literary bent combined with a singular love of human- 
 ity, arrived at his dwelling place he was both puzzled 
 and surprised as well as uncomfortably stirred to find 
 awaiting him a wholly incomprehensible communication, 
 which imperatively requested him to meet the unknown 
 writer, that night, at a point knowTi as "Lone Pine," in 
 the hills. "We have something to tell you 'bout De 
 Braddock," the writer said. 
 
 The unsigned note, to one who had so recently shown 
 the unmistakable evidence of a deep and sentimental in- 
 terest in Peter Braddock 's daughter, was a matter of uu; 
 avoidable and strange anxiety and concern. William 
 White had no enemies — at least, none that he then knew 
 of — and he at once put aside all thought that this unac- 
 countable and anonymous invitation could mean per- 
 sonal treachery to himself. Even were it so, De Brad- 
 dock's possible welfare, to him, possessed far too deep 
 an interest to admit of a moment's hesitation. 
 
 "I must go," mused White as he read the entire 
 missive a second time. "And it says," he soliloquized 
 gravely, "that I must go alone — and alone it shall be." 
 
62 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 It was now close on to evening. Thinking, in spite 
 of his confidence, that there might be possible need of 
 a weapon. White slipped a revolver into his pocket; 
 and completed further preparations for the coming ad- 
 venture. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ' ' THE WAY OF THE WORLD. ' ' 
 
 "The way of the world — " way of the world; 
 Anywhere, anyhow, into it whirled ! 
 
 Elsewhere had started that sullen and reactionary 
 current of lawless social reprisal, the first seed and vital 
 germ of all dreadful and unhappy revolution in nature. 
 They were two low broAved, evil visaged men who were 
 talking with suspiciously dark and sinister earnestness, 
 in the open country highway. One, black-bearded and 
 menacing, had perched himself upon the top of a rail 
 fence; the other stood, brooding and silent, on the 
 ground nearby. The one on the fence had come out of 
 his abstraction in the forest, where we left him ; the 
 man standing near still wore the appearance of discon- 
 tented perplexity worn, by him, when the last to leave 
 the leader in the wood. 
 
 ' ' But I tell ye, ' ' said the man on the ground, gloom- 
 ily continuing their discussion in the grateful shade of 
 an immense oak in their rear — for the sun was hot, "ye 
 cain't tell nothin' 'bout it. Th' woman's playin' some 
 game. I tell ye, I don't believe in her tantrums, nohow. 
 Fact. She lets on to be sick, this here a- way, an' then — 
 vrhish!" exclaimed the speaker, expressively throwing 
 out his hands, "she's up an' off like a scairt colt. Yo' 
 never can tell, I tell ye. She ain't no more sicker 'n you 
 
 63 
 
64 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 er me. Ye say she wants ye to kidnap Billy White, an' 
 bring 'im to the cave ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes. And supposin' she is puttin' on — supposin' 
 she is — she's be'n useful to us, hain't she — and faithful, 
 an' all that, hain't she? Yo' cain't tell nothin' about 
 'er, I'll agree; but she's be'n durn good to the gang, 
 jus' the same," persisted the robber leader on the fence. 
 *'Uh course, too, I looks at the matter ez ye do, yerself, 
 Hen : them thar ' seemin ' crazy people 's curious kind uv 
 cattle, an' she's a double dose of curious, anyway — 
 crazy er sane. And then, again, sez I, what if she is 
 puttin ' on ? Huh ! She can 't get the best of us. ' ' This 
 last was said with all the affected confidence of veteran 
 and successful crime, for these men were among the 
 worst and most vicious criminals southern Indiana was 
 ever afflicted with. "I kin take keer uv mese'f, thank 
 ye. No, ef we kin obleege the ol ' critter, let 's do it. Git 
 the feller White, 'at she wants, er says she wants, fer 
 to see him so much, an' take 'im to the mother. She — 
 I tell yo'. Hen," said the speaker, abruptly breaking o^f 
 in his sentence and displaying part of a real motive 
 moving him to the contemplated action, "we'd better 
 do this thing she wants; fur the old woman, whether 
 she 's weak in her upper story ur not, knows some things 
 'at you an' me, I think, could make a heep out of. Did 
 yer hear her say she wuz fate?" jestingly added the 
 man. 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' replied the other, ' ' I did ; and ye know what 
 she said ? ' ' 
 
 "Naw; let's hear," rejoined his associate, one hand 
 ruffling his heavy black beard while the other extracted 
 a watch from his pocket as he glanced at the time. 
 
 "I ast 'er why she avuz fate. She said bec'uz' half 
 the time she didn't have no sense." 
 
 "Haw! haw! haw!" burst out the other — "don't 
 
"THE WAY OF THE WORLD." 65 
 
 sound very crazy, does it? — Not'standin*, be she sick er 
 well, we gotter git Billy White inter thet cave," and, 
 thus asserting his authority, the man parted his huge, 
 black mustache, spat reflectively into the road from the 
 top rail of the stake-and-rider fence and idly kicked the 
 rail beneath with the back of his heel. His companion, 
 with his hands in his pockets, slouched in the midst of 
 the ironweeds which filled up the angles in the fence, 
 and said nothing. 
 
 The landscape consisted of rich farmland and hilly 
 country. The two plotters, in their coarse attire, made 
 natural figures for the varied background, with its 
 stretches of woodland and a river shining here and there 
 among the trees and in the broken rising ground. Not 
 far off, to the left of the outlaws and in their rear, were 
 a farmhouse and outhouses ; and, behind the buildings, 
 was a field of ripening wheat. The summer weather 
 now set in was dry, hot and dusty; and it was clearly 
 approaching a season of either severe drought or over- 
 whelming flood. 
 
 The man on the fence spoke abruptly, accompanying 
 his words with an expressive oath. He had been sunk 
 in a characteristic fit of abstraction, and his manner 
 changed strikingly as he came out of it. 
 
 "Fate!" he ejaculated in bitter irony. "It's the 
 way of the world to git what ye kin, an' any way ye 
 kin," he added, with a deep and peculiar emphasis, "an' 
 I 'm go 'n ' to git it. ' ' 
 
 "Ye ain't a-goin' to do White no harm, be ye?" ques- 
 tioned the man in the ironweeds, with what seemed an 
 unexpected and unusual show of solicitude. 
 
 "Don't know; ef he acts right, 'ull leave 'ini 'lone." 
 "I wouldn't hurt 'im none," urged the other, still 
 apparently and curiously prompted by a strange weak- 
 ness in the face of their proposed act of abduction. 
 
66 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "See here, Hen," growled the ruflfian truculently 
 from the top of the fence, "ye seem kindo' tender 
 hearted. What ails ye? Ye don't play no tricks \^ith 
 us, my man, like we had to do up Thrash Thatcher fer 
 — hey ? " he added ominously. 
 
 "I tell ye. Hank," returned Hen breaking the top 
 of an iron weed with one hand, while the other remained 
 in his pocket, "I ain't feelin' jes' right lately 'bout all 
 this here cave biz'ness, don't ye know. Don't know 
 
 w^hat ails me, but I ain't, an' " he broke off uneasily 
 
 for a moment; then proceeded: "Like ez not we'll all 
 git d^o^\^lded in there some day fer our pains. Hank, 
 it's darn bad biz'ness, anyhow — this breakin' the law." 
 
 "One 'u'd think," sneered Hank, "'at yer'd be'n 
 spoonin' 'round weth some darn sky pilot. What's th' 
 matter uv yer, anyhow ? Air ye goin ' to show the white 
 feather?" queried the outlaw, suspicion taking further 
 hold on him as he dwelt on these signs in his companion 
 of weakening in their criminal faith. "Dang my but- 
 tons! Hen, ef I thought yo' wuz, I'd pepper and salt 
 ye, myself, I would," and the outlaw's hand, as he 
 spoke, sought the sinister locality of his hip pocket. 
 
 "Well, I ain't a-goin' to show no Avhite feather, an' 
 ye know that," slowly rejoined the other. "Ye know 
 it better than anyone," he continued, lifting his eyes 
 and giving the man on the fence a long and piercing 
 look. "There ain't any more loyal man an' me, Black 
 Hank, an' ye know it. Ye oughtn't to talk to me the 
 way ye done. 'Tain't right," and Hen, with real sor- 
 row and grief in his tone and manner, withdrew his 
 hand from his trousers pocket and waved it in general 
 expostulation at the landscape. "Think uv it," cried 
 the injured man addressing a neighboring meadovv-. 
 Me! what? hell, I wouldn't 'a' said it of you," turning 
 
"THE WAY OF THE WORLD." 67 
 
 back to Hank, who sat gazing intently and apparently 
 remorsefully at the object of his recent suspicion. 
 
 "Durn it, I'm sorry — yes, I am — 'at I said it. Hen. 
 But what the mischief's the matter with you? I never 
 seen you this a-way before?" 
 
 "Don't know," returned Hen; "wisht I did. Bot- 
 tom's go'n' to drop out, reckon. No use askin', Hank — 
 I couldn't tell ye, myself. They'll get us, though," re- 
 joined the man, apparently operated on by some power- 
 ful presentiment of coming misfortune. 
 
 "Get us! They — who?" cried the leader, in exas- 
 peration. 
 
 "The Law," said the other moodily, with his eyes 
 upon the ground at his feet. 
 
 Again the chief's eyes emitted the threatening light 
 of suspicion. 
 
 "Lookee here. Hen, you've been one of the best of 
 us. Ain't no doubt about that," said the outlaw chief- 
 tain with a motion of his hand to obviate the necessity 
 of further comment of like nature; "I know that, all 
 right, but ye must get out of this here state of col-lapse 
 you 're in — it won 't do. 'Tain 't healthy. ' ' 
 
 "I will. Hank, I will," and the brooding man gave 
 himself a shake ; withdrew his hands from his pockets ; 
 a far away look from the distant hills, whence it had 
 wandered, and began to whistle. He then agreeably an- 
 nounced himself as ready for the forcible and speedy 
 conveying of one William White to a certain spot, there 
 to meet the mysterious woman whose strange and eccen- 
 tric conduct afforded, with wild and thrilling effect, so 
 much speculation in that early, rural neighborhood — 
 a locality deeply influenced by superstition and ignor- 
 ance and of which so much is there told in fearsomeness 
 and awe, while here in tenderness and respect. 
 
 "Be keerful," cautioned Black Hank in a low tone 
 
68 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 of voice, as his fellow outlaw started to speak; "here's 
 the new feller we took in to try, yisterday. " 
 
 Except for an air of engaging independence which 
 sat with an easy grace upon him and became him very 
 well, the man who now put in an appearance was to all 
 seeming but an ordinary tramp. He had approached 
 silently and, while the discouraged miscreant was occu- 
 pied with his own forebodings, had appeared in their 
 midst. 
 
 "Pardner," said the outlaw leader addressing the 
 newcomer with a bland air, "I understand ye to say 
 ye 're on yer uppers — bu'sted?" 
 
 "That's about the cut uv my jib, mates," replied 
 the late arrival as he came to a halt with a rolling mo- 
 tion which, together with his speech, was strongly sug- 
 gestive of the seafaring profession. With an easy ges- 
 ture of the hand he pushed back his hat, unconsciously 
 displaying, at the same time, a ragged and striking scar 
 above the eyebrows. 
 
 "I tell yo', yesterday, we mouglit give ye a job, ef 
 ever ye 're reliable." 
 
 "I kin try," said the tramp simply. 
 
 "Jes' meet us here this evenin'," said Black Hank. 
 "Er wait; jes' come over there," supplemented the out- 
 law pointing to where, in the distance, there appeared 
 a towering hill beginning a far rougher country than 
 that in which they then stood, "We'll meet ye there, 
 ez," subjoined the bandit, "the feller — th' stuff," he 
 hastily added, correcting himself in time, "we got to 
 carry '11 be over at that p 'int. ' ' 
 
 "But, Hank, — " remonstrated his fellow evildoer, 
 when the tramp had passed on up the road. 
 
 "I know, I know," the outlaw chieftain hastened to 
 reassure his uneasy companion. " I '11 make sure of him 
 
"THE WAY OF THE WORLD." 69 
 
 fu'st. We're short handed, ye know, sence Thrash 
 Thatcher got settled fur peachin' on the gang." 
 
 And they both turned and gazed after the retreat- 
 ing figure that sauntered out of sight around a curve 
 in the road, and left Hen with puckered brow, and Black 
 Hank betrayed by the false security of crime in a sec- 
 tion noted for the success with which crime had long 
 flourished. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "good things of day begin to droop and drowse, 
 
 AND night's black AGENTS TO THEIR PREY DO ROUSE." 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 In the State of Indiana, there is a group of caverns 
 which, in their unexplored mystery, charm and delight 
 the imagination. They fill the region with legend and 
 mystical lore. There has long been a habit of ascribing 
 the most wonderful things to this enchanting region. 
 "Wandering spirits are supposed at night to pay fleeting 
 visits to "the glimpses of the moon" shining above the 
 slumbering world, but to return at the first flush of 
 dawn to the unkno-\vn regions of the world below. Boys, 
 reveling in their swimming sports, lend to their diving 
 holes bottomless depths which they fancy mean nothing 
 else than occasion for youthful daring and adventure — 
 sinking and floating above those fearsom.e and undelved 
 channels which are believed to honeycomb, in mysterious, 
 subterranean attraction and interest, the soundless 
 realms of the undersphere. It is not a far cry, in simple 
 credulous minds, to fairy tales, weird and fascinating 
 stories of hobgoblins and the ravishing adventures of 
 elves, brownies and pixie children. On moonlight 
 nights, the little mound people are surely believed to 
 come forth and play upon the green ; and the very earth 
 and air teem with the most refreshing and alluring pos- 
 sibilities of a life other than one of daily toil, hardship 
 and strife. 
 
 70 
 
"GOOD THINGS OF DAY, ETC." 71 
 
 The old dame seated by her fireside of a cold Annter 
 night, — when the falling snow without drops a fleecy 
 veil whitening hill and woodland, field and river, and 
 the icicles form to sparkle in the splendor of the mor- 
 row's sun, — loves to huddle her grandchildren about her 
 and croon the tales of magic that belong to an atmos- 
 phere of dreams and enchantment. 
 
 flighty rocks in the hills here spring from the 
 ground like titan, invincible and jagged buttresses of 
 primal earth. Vegetation, growing in the wild and soli- 
 tary recesses of the great sharp spurs, streaks the faces 
 of the stony formations with disordered marking^ — 
 green, matted, withered underbrush and yellow decay. 
 Crowning the towering heights of these masses of earth 
 and stone are beech, fir, oak and hickory, which wave 
 primeval branches to eternal space. Here there is a 
 river lost ; and afar the mystic hill, where dwells in hid- 
 den silence the mysterious stream whose romance has 
 helped people this realm with supernatural imaginings, 
 rears itself as watchman of the land. 
 
 In one of the caves of this region, at a certain period 
 in the history of Indiana, lurked a band of outlaws. 
 There was connected with these malefactors a singular 
 character by the name of Rachel Bolers. She came and 
 went; and was believed to deal in "ha'nts and spells." 
 Even at a time in her sad and melancholy history, when 
 misfortune seem.s to have unbalanced her mind, the ac- 
 cepted strangeness of her natural character — accom- 
 panied by a shrewdness which enabled her to avoid open 
 offense to her neighbors — caused the community to leave 
 her unrestrained of her liberty. In this wise, she wan- 
 dered at will ; and represented, in the superstition which, 
 in the minds of Indian and white man alike, clothes the 
 deranged with supernatural attributes, a haunting dread 
 and wayward happening to the secluded and rustic local- 
 
72 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ity. "With vengeful and unforgiving passions, slie was 
 yet capable of kindness and humanity. 
 
 It was amidst these romantic surroundings that night 
 was creeping in — a warm summer night. An occasional 
 vivid flash of lightning and the hoarse growl and rum- 
 ble of distant thunder would break the silence and the 
 gathering gloom. A man, at a slow pace, rode toilsomely 
 a strong hack of a horse up a steep and broken defile in 
 the hilly, uneven country. A light suddenly shone in 
 the center of a rough piece of ground nearby — a pe- 
 culiar softly luminous ball of light; it as suddenly dis- 
 appeared. It had caught the eye of the horseman and, 
 for a moment, a slight sensation of fear crept through 
 him. The rider, however, kept his gaze fastened upon 
 the rough borders of the way closer at hand as though 
 expecting something which he had, as yet, not seen; 
 when, as abruptly as it had before appeared, the glow- 
 ing globe of light reappeared in a different place, danced 
 eerily from side to side for a fleeting fraction of time 
 and then, once more, vanished. It was again seen on 
 the other side of the road, in the rocky fields and marshy 
 land which the rider's way had opened on. 
 
 ' ' Hump ! ' ' muttered the horseman, ' ' one of the 
 causes of their superstition — a will o' the wisp." He 
 rode on in silence, continuing his careful and intent 
 survey of the wayside. The horse, striking its hoof 
 upon a stony projection in the road, stumbled. The 
 rider reined the animal in with a sharp jerk and con- 
 tinued his progress with greater care. 
 
 "This is the spot," he said, half aloud, looking up 
 at a solitary tree posted like a sentinel upon a rocky emi- 
 nence. "Lone Pine! It was here, they said, to meet 
 them." 
 
 "Halt! Who goes there?" came a quick challenge 
 from the darkness at the roadside. 
 
"GOOD THINGS OF DAY, ETC." 73 
 
 William White checked his horse. 
 
 "A friend," he answered promptly and fearlessly. 
 
 "Advance, friend, and give the countersign," said 
 the hidden voice with the precision of military system. 
 
 The events now transpiring were at a time when the 
 War of the Rebellion had not long been fought. The 
 horseman had, himself, been a soldier. He gave the 
 countersign : 
 
 "Lost River." 
 
 "Good," replied the unseen spokesman, evidently 
 satisfied with this previously understood method of iden- 
 tification. 
 
 "Why have you sent for me?" inquired White. 
 "There was something in your letter concerning Miss 
 Braddock. It affects her?" 
 
 "It does; get down," said the voice from its hiding 
 place. 
 
 The rider, understanding this to be a direction to 
 dismount, did so; and stood quietly by his hard breath- 
 ing animal. White had fought well in the war; the re- 
 sult, but one arm — the right — which now rested across 
 the saddle. A man stepped out in front of him into the 
 bridle path — for it was little more than such — and 
 could be seen against the confused background of the 
 night advance a step, when suddenly came a flash of 
 lightning, revealing close to the silent soldier a huge 
 black beard, a pair of flashing eyes and above it all a 
 broad, black slouch hat. There was a peal of thunder 
 rolling threateningly out over the hills. 
 
 In an instant, without warning of any kind, the dis- 
 mounted horseman felt himself seized from behind, and 
 a cloth was thrown quickly and skilfully over his head 
 and shoulders. He struggled violently with his captors ; 
 but, while displaying unusual strength, the disadvan- 
 tage at which he had been taken and the absence of an 
 
74 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 arm necessarily made his efforts at liberty of little 
 avail. His weapon, owing to the sudden and unexpected 
 nature of attack, had, likewise, been rendered useless ; 
 indeed, its possession had not occurred to him until, too 
 late, he found himself in the clutches of his treacherous 
 and formidable assailants. 
 
 "See, here, pardner," — the captive could recognize, 
 through the covering that enveloped his head, the dead' 
 ened sound of the voice of the man who had halted him 
 in the road, — "we don't mean ye no harm, but ye 
 mustn't see where ye 're tuk. A friend o' ourn 'at we'd 
 like ter obleege, and w^ho can't git here on account uv 
 her health, wants mightily to see ye." 
 
 "To see me on account of Miss Braddock?" in muf- 
 fled tones said the one addressed, further restraining 
 himself in the hopes of securing an additional clue to his 
 unexpected plight. "Your letter gave me to so under- 
 stand. ' ' 
 
 "Now, then, that's jest it," responded the other 
 speaker comfortably, appearing to be inspired by a 
 genuine desire to make the situation as acceptable to his 
 captive as possible. "So, if ye '11 go 'long quiet an' 
 peaceable, ye '11 be brung back ez safe ez ye went." 
 
 "Anything in the name of Miss Braddock," rejoined 
 the prisoner, "is enough. If you are really acting in 
 her interest, you need have no fear of me. ' ' 
 
 "That there wniz what I tole th' boys, Mr. Billy 
 White," concluded the outlaw; "an.', now, we'll git 
 along. ' ' 
 
 The party of outlaws moved off in a direction im- 
 possible for the blinded man to know, as, before starting, 
 he had been turned around briskly with the evident in- 
 tention of confusing his sense of locality. Carrying and 
 otherwise assisting their charge with what rude consid- 
 eration appeared in their power, the prisoner's custo- 
 
''GOOD THINGS OF DAY, ETC." 75 
 
 dians made as rapid progress as the rough character oi 
 the country would permit. How far his captors con- 
 ducted him, William White had no means of telling. 
 There was a period of hurrying over many obstructions, 
 inequalities in the ground, tough unyielding branches 
 of short undergrowth, and once they splashed through 
 a narrow running stream. The captive, despite what 
 care was possible, was roughly lifted, dragged or pulled 
 past these obstacles in their path until, at length, nearly 
 exhausted from the imperfect breathing space left in his 
 shrouded condition, he felt the others pause. There 
 was a delay, a rush of cold air, a descent, the covering 
 was removed from his head, and impenetrable darkness 
 enveloped White. At almost the same instant, a match 
 flared and a lantern was lighted. They were in an un- 
 derground passage, the ragged and broken rock, through 
 which nature had cut it, sparkling, from nature's crys- 
 tals, with a thousand jetting reflections of light. 
 
 "Where, the devil!" in a sharp tone of authority, 
 ejaculated the outlaw leader ^nth the lantern, "hez thet 
 tramp, 'at j 'ined the gang, gone to ? " 
 
 None seemed able to explain the sudden and appar- 
 ently unlooked for disappearance of the new recruit. 
 
 " I '11 bet he 's lit out and left us in the lurch. Didn 't 
 fancy his sailor lingo, nohow. Boys," said the chief of 
 the outlaws, with an oath, "he's got the secret — wuz he 
 in here?" queried the excited speaker, breaking off and 
 looking about him uneasily. "Lay for him," he cried, 
 "hunt him — find him. Damn you all!" continued the 
 man furiously; "does anyone know anything?" 
 
 The other members of the band glanced at each other 
 in startled alarm. They knew nothing. 
 
 White was led away; and two outlaws were hastily 
 dispatched without the cave in search of the missing 
 tramp. 
 
76 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Whoever the deserter was, he had certainly left his 
 former brief companionship in a cloud of «?ieertainty 
 and, after a hurried search of the nearer premises, a 
 copious flow of profanity and some anxious speculation, 
 the remaining outlaws were obliged to proceed to their 
 destination in the recesses of the earth, leaving behind 
 them, in whatever situation, their disloyal or unfortu- 
 nate colleague. 
 
 They had not gone far, when the light of the lan- 
 tern, glancing from walls of strange and scintillating 
 brilliancy, glistened upon a body of dark and murky 
 water. What its extent, or whence it came or whither 
 went, the enforced companion of the wild and desperate 
 characters could not tell. The somber, brooding surface, 
 broken by the lantern's gleam, lost itself in mysterious 
 gloom where the reflection of light ceased to illuminate 
 its expanse ; and the silent and unfamiliar visitor to this 
 solemn solitude gazed out upon the awesome depths in 
 an attempt to pierce the unpierceable veil of stilly dark- 
 ness beyond. 
 
 "The hidden course of Lost River," muttered the 
 outlaws' captive companion, a quick thrill of interest 
 shooting through him. 
 
 The chief of the outcasts caught the subdued ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 "Right," he said, as they continued to advance 
 warily along the difficult and intricate way. 
 
 A silence, which, in the damp, mouldy atmosphere 
 of the caverns, enveloped them eerily and uncannily, 
 followed this brief interchange. 
 
 The robber chieftain glanced suddenly and furtively 
 into the face of his companion. 
 
 "Ye 're a writer, they say. — Damn ye! ef ye write 
 about this here, we'll burn you and your book!" A 
 menace and a snarl indicated no idle threat. 
 
''GOOD THINGS OF DAY, ETC." 77 
 
 The writer, greatly encouraged, remained silent. 
 
 The increased agitation of light, as the robber chief 
 from time to time waved his lantern about, caught the 
 other portions of the cave into which the way had broad- 
 ened out of the narrower passage through which they 
 had come. The roof continued to sparkle and gleam 
 with unnumbered and countless dancing rays, and the 
 walls, as far as they could be seen, gave back like sound- 
 less echoes myriads of dancing, dazzling reflections. 
 
 As they went their way, skirting cautiously a narrow 
 path which led abruptly to the left and offered a pre- 
 carious and uncertain foothold between the river and 
 the cavern's side, frequent low spoken words of direc- 
 tion and guidance were uttered by the outlaw leader' for 
 the benefit of his prisoner. Again, they made a turning ; 
 a lofty chamber in the rock was entered; the lantern 
 bearer observed, "that they were there," and the visi- 
 tor saw a large and spacious apartment of nature's pre- 
 paring, which, like the other portions of the caverns, 
 presented sparkling, gleaming sides and ceiling, where 
 the light smote upon crystal and mineral, awakening 
 millions of shining eyes in the blind vision of the earth. 
 Numerous lamps, with reflectors, had been suspended 
 about the walls, but were not lighted; and upon the far 
 side of the chamber shone a single dull ray from a smoky 
 taper set upon a low stool. A bat flew out of a recess 
 somewhere; circled above the heads of those gathered in 
 the cave, and fluttered blunderingly through the light 
 into the outer darkness, whence the new arrivals had 
 just come. 
 
 A man advanced from the dim light at the far side 
 of the apartment. 
 
 '•She's clean off — outen her head, ag'in; can't git 
 a thing, 'cept foolishness, outen 'er, cap'n," — the in- 
 
78 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 formant paused in front of his chief, and added expres- 
 sively: "Crazy, cap', — crazy ez a June bug." 
 
 The robber leader conducted the bewildered Wliite 
 to the taper, near which, upon a pallet of straw, lay a 
 M'oman whose emaciated features were lighted by other 
 illumination than that issuing from gem or taper, stalac- 
 tite or crj^stal. The fires of "a mind diseased" appar- 
 ently burned in those hollow eyes, and the low murmur- 
 ings and incoherent wanderings of a deranged creature, 
 at first confused, by William White, with the splash of 
 the underground stream which they had just passed, 
 gave token that in vain might effort here be made to 
 learn the secret which this man, now bending above the 
 stricken one, had come to hear. 
 
 The woman appeared to rouse herself but for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "Black Hank, are you there?" she asked. 
 "Yes, Rachel," answered the leader of the outlaws. 
 But she, at once, wandered off into incohereney, 
 again. 
 
 "Brad Simons," muttered the woman, in her va- 
 garies uttering the name of him who, at the moment, 
 appeared to occupy her thoughts. 
 
 "Rachel, ol' gal, here's yer man Billy White. Can't 
 ye talk to 'im, ol' lady?" A species of rough, uncouth 
 kindness gave to the robber chieftain's voice a touch of 
 redeeming quality, commending the speaker to the sense 
 of William White like nothing else could have done. 
 Turning to White, the outlaw continued: "She's alius 
 talkin' 'bout Brad Simons. — Mr. Wliite," went on the 
 speaker, in his rude vernacular, "this ain't no snide 
 case," meaning that the condition of the woman called 
 Rachel possessed elements Avhieh appealed, in their jus- 
 tice, to the sympathies of the right feeling. "No matter 
 what we fellers is, er what she is er ain't, that 'ere crit- 
 
'•'GOOD THINGS OF DAY, ETC." 79 
 
 tur, thar', 's ])e'n a kind uv all roiin' mother to us all, 
 in kineness ; an' she an' her da'ter 's a-be'n misused, ef I 
 knows anything uv ther matter, an' it's that's onsettled 
 'er mind." 
 
 "Has a doctor seen her?" asked White. 
 
 ' ' Oh, a kind o ' one, ' ' returned the other, in a furtive 
 and evasive manner, "She's sort o' chronic, ez they say,' 
 — one minute, seems all right; next, don't know 
 nothin'." 
 
 "Why don't you have her moved from here?" 
 
 "This ain't our movin' day, stranger," drily ob- 
 served one of the other occupants of the cave. 
 
 "How long has she been confined here?" then said 
 White. 
 
 "Pardner, ye 're to ask ez few questions ez con- 
 venient," said the leader of the silent band. 
 
 The secret and involuntary visitor, at this, glanced 
 up from his contemplation of the form at his feet; and, 
 so absorbed had he been, it was, for the first time, borne 
 in upon his consciousness that a still and motionless 
 group of captors surrounding him was disguised with 
 one fantastic artifice or another. The outlaw leader wore 
 a great black beard ; whether false or not was unapparent 
 to White at the time. 
 
 "Was she clear headed, when you sent for me?" ' 
 
 "Dunno, " replied the chief; "reckon she mought be. 
 Nothin', anyways, 'u'd satisfy 'er, 'thout we'd hike ye 
 up here. She kep' sayin', 'Brad Simons — ' then she'd 
 stop, kindo ', and then she 'd say, ' Git Billy White ! ' And, 
 ag'in, 'Brad Simons— Git Billy White!' She'd break 
 off, an' then she'd say, 'De Braddock!' Then she'd say: 
 'Git Billy White!' A'ter that, it woiz, 'I'll tell him, I'll 
 tell him, I'll tell him,' over and over ag'in. Wa'n't thet 
 erbout it. Hen ? ' ' 
 
 Hen obligingly said it was. 
 
80 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 The two outlaws here bent their eager and inquiring 
 looks upon the form resting in the straw, and turned a 
 like gaze upon the kidnaped object of the chief's address, 
 as if animated by the additional and powerful reason of 
 their own personal curiosity and cupidity. 
 
 ''Rachel — Mrs. Bolers," spoke William White, sooth- 
 ingly, *'do you know me?" He knew the woman, in 
 common with others of that region. 
 
 Rachel Bolers moaned, muttered something that 
 sounded like, "Brad Simons— Tell Billy Wliite," and 
 presently appeared to sink into an uneasy slumber. 
 
 She stirred fretfully in her restless sleep, as though 
 beset by evil dreams. The light continued to draw 
 sparkles of flashing and vanishing rays from the erystal- 
 bejeweled and broken ceiling and walls of the cavern, 
 and here and there great upright formations, extending 
 pillar-wise from the level sanded floor to the rugged and 
 uneven surface of the lofty, vaulted roof, threw off 
 shafts of vari-colored scintillations in this chamber of 
 mystery. 
 
 "Brad Simons," murmured the dreamer on her pal- 
 let. And, now, "De Braddock." And, after a bit, "Billy 
 White." 
 
 In the world without, the moon had followed the 
 menace of storm. The woods about were silent in the 
 night's still and solemn hour. The distant barking of a 
 watchdog; the solitary call of a farmer upon a lonely 
 farm, or the hoot of an owl alone gave sign of life, or 
 of any agency of seemingly blind fate, which might, in 
 the course of universal things, help piece out the puzzle 
 of a soul's travail and kind surcease. 
 
 The night wore on. The day was breaking when Will- 
 iam White left the cave, and the first cool, fresh breath 
 and stir of coming dawn pervaded the world, while, here 
 and there, a bird sang its cheery, early note of promise. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE BRADDOCK FARM. 
 
 A bright, sunny morning showed a cozy farmhouse 
 nestling in a quiet country yard. The yard was filled 
 with roses, larkspur and hollyhock. The house was a 
 long, low, white, oldtime affair, with a quaint half story 
 topping the one story beneath. Two dormer windows 
 peered like kindly old fashioned eyes from the roof. A 
 rambling covered porch ran the full length of the front. 
 Myriads of deep crimson roses clambered in clustering 
 profusion over the porch, loading the air with perfume. 
 Back of the house was a large, comfortable barn. 
 
 The fields were bountiful with corn, wheat and coun- 
 try abundance. The harvests of the '60 's of the last cen- 
 tury were ripening. 
 
 But for the subdued noise of poultry, the sound of 
 bees at their hives by the side of the house and the occa- 
 sional twittering of swallows about the eaves of the house 
 and barn, all sounds of life seemed drov^Tied in. the 
 drowsy stillness of the summer hour. 
 
 Suddenly a voice blithely singing fell upon the air, 
 while out upon the porch there stepped from the house 
 the singer; and De Braddock, for it was Brad Simons' 
 object of desire whose voice was heard, paused at the 
 steps descending to the yard and ceased her modest vocal 
 effort. She gazed at the road which ran in front of the 
 house, and then tripped' lightly down the two or three 
 steps leading to the ground and passed to the gate con- 
 necting with the highway. Here she stopped and 
 directed her look to the road, south. She softly sighed. 
 
 81 
 
82 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Her gaze remained pensively fixed upon the highway, 
 so that she was not conscious of a horseman approach- 
 ing from the opposite direction. 
 
 Brad Simons, delayed over night in his intention of 
 returning and seeking a meeting with De as agreed be- 
 tween himself and Uncle Peter, came riding by. He 
 stopped his horse in front of the gate where De was 
 standing, and with an air of confident anticipation 
 saluted her. She acknowledged his presence, but with a 
 distant and preoccupied air, and a lack of cordiality that 
 was noticeable. He dismounted, and drawdng his bridle 
 rein over his arm advanced and stood by her at the gate, 
 across which he addressed her. 
 
 "De," he said, "I have been wanting very much to 
 see you — desiring just such an opportunity to have a — to 
 — to say something, which may mean so much to you and 
 me — to both of us. May I speak?" 
 
 "I scarcely know what you mean, Mr. Simons," re- 
 plied the girl, glancing hastily into Simons' face. 
 
 "You have, surely, long since kno\\Ti what I have 
 meant," exclaimed the w^ooer, attempting to take the 
 other's hand. 
 
 De Braddock drew her hand away and replied : 
 
 "No, Mr. Simons, I am unable to understand now, or 
 any time, what you mean or have meant." 
 
 "De, it is true I am much older than you, but you 
 know I am rich. I am sure I could make you happy. I 
 ask you to be my wife. Could you not let me hope you 
 will some day listen to me ? " 
 
 ' ' Why, ]\Ir. Simons, ' ' began the girl, only to be inter- 
 rupted by the suitor. 
 
 ' ' Do not be too hasty. The day may come — yes, will 
 come — when you shall appreciate all I offer. Your father, 
 to whom I have spoken in regard to my feelings, is not 
 
THE BRADDOCK FARM. 83 
 
 in any way averse. Can you not — De, will you not marry 
 me?" 
 
 ' ' But, I\Ir. Simons, I — you oblige me to speak frankly, 
 I am sorry if it hurts you — I do not love you. I cannot 
 marry a man I do not love." 
 
 "Some day you may — love me," urged Simons ear- 
 nestly, coming closer. 
 
 "No — no, I cannot, now or ever," she exclaimed. 
 
 "You love — him — White?" said Brad, his face pal- 
 ing and his hands unconsciously clenching. 
 
 ' ' You have no right to ask me, ' ' cried the girl. 
 
 Simons felt a rage, a deadly unreasoning, jealous 
 rage, begin to mount to his brain. He knew well who 
 was the rival whom he had to measure. However, he re- 
 tained sufficient composure to realize the unwisdom of 
 betraying passion at such a time, and by a powerful 
 effort restrained himself. 
 
 "Your answer is 'No'?" he managed to say with 
 something like self possession. 
 
 "My answer is 'No,' " said she. 
 
 Brad Simons looked long at the face of the woman 
 who had refused him; and she, in turn, gazed without 
 flinching into his veiled, evil, burning eyes. Then, bow- 
 ing quietly, he turned and left her. 
 
 Had he stormed it would have been better. There 
 was something ill in his silent withdrawal that sent a 
 thrill of unaccountable apprehension through the object 
 of his late address. 
 
 "De," called a voice from the house. 
 
 The girl at the gate appeared oblivious to all about 
 her. She had, once more, fallen into her original rev- 
 erie, presenting a pretty picture. She was of medium 
 height, and of attractive and pleasing face. Her chest- 
 nut hair lay in little tangled ringlets, waves and fluffs 
 about her head, face and neck. Her teeth, through her 
 
84 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 half parted lips, gleamed white and pearly. Her cheeks 
 were round and dimpled, and her eyes dark and engag- 
 ing. She wore a simple gingham frock. 
 
 The voice from the house was heard a second time, 
 insistently. 
 
 "Yes, yes, mother," rejoined the girl, coming out of 
 her day dreams and partly turning. 
 
 From the door whence had come the maid now came 
 Martha Braddock. 
 
 ' ' De, what be ye doin ' out there ? ' ' asked the mother 
 from her position on the porch. 
 
 "Oh, nothing, mother," replied De with pretty pet- 
 ulant indifference, turning back to her view of the wheat 
 fields and the road. 
 
 ' ' 'Pears like it, ' ' responded the elder woman drily. 
 "Now, see here, child," continued she, a tone of reproof 
 struggling for mastery in her kind voice, when she was 
 interrupted by a sudden exclamation from the other. 
 
 ' ' I %\dsh, ' ' impulsively cried the girl, ' ' that that Brad 
 Simons would stay away." 
 
 "Wliy, what ails the gal! Brad kin do no harm. 
 He's powerful rich." 
 
 "Yes, but I don't want him — so there," retorted 
 the other, her graceful figure and dimpled good natured 
 countenance taking on an expression of determined and 
 unyielding objection. 
 
 "Well, ye know, since ye come from school, your pa's 
 'lowed, onc't or twic't, as how Billy White," (De, con- 
 cerned that morning with William White's failure the 
 night previous to visit her, as he had requested at the 
 schoolhouse permission to do, — a failure due, in her ig- 
 norance, to his experience with the outlaws, — gave an- 
 other suggestive and sweeping glance up and doAvn the 
 road in troubled silence), " 'cause of his po'try writin' 
 an' sich, was no 'count." The speaker, as she delivered 
 
THE BRADDOCK FARM. 85 
 
 these remarks to the fair object of them, gradually ad- 
 vanced from the porch into the yard until she stood by 
 her daughter's side. 
 
 "You haven't anything against him, have you?" 
 queried the young girl, wistfully scrutinizing the moth- 
 erly face beside her. 
 
 "Ag 'in' Billy White? The Lord love ye ! no. He's 
 a queer crittur, tho', and they make 'im wuss by settin' 
 their faces ag'in' him." 
 
 The road leading past the house, at this moment 
 echoed with the rattle of an approaching vehicle, which 
 proved to be a democrat — not the political article, but a 
 medium-sized spring-wagon known by that name. The 
 conveyance drawn by a stout roan horse came on at a 
 good, brisk rate. Sitting upon the seat of the democrat 
 was a man of strikingly homely features, who drove, and 
 whistled shrilly in a tuneless effort at a popular air. 
 
 "De," said the mother with an accent of amused 
 pleasure, and glancing hastily at the dusty highway, "I 
 do declare there's that ree-dik-lus Bob Likkum," and 
 De's mother hurriedly wiped her hands on the apron 
 hanging from her comfortable girth of waist, and her 
 fingers sought a stray wisp of gray-sprinkled hair at her 
 temple. 
 
 " He is a funny man, ' ' said the daughter, in full sym- 
 pahty with her mother's appreciation of the humorous 
 characteristics of the person in question. 
 
 ' ' j\Ios ' makes me die laughin '. Don 't know what I '11 
 do, if he comes 'round much more with that funny some- 
 thing about — somebody," remarked Mrs. Braddock, en- 
 tirely and hopelessly at a loss to remember the anecdote 
 in point, but quite overpowered by the recollection. The 
 worthy woman's features became convulsed with merri- 
 ment. 
 
86 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Robert Likkum, a comedian of that neighborhood, 
 drew on toward the house. 
 
 "Howdee, Mis' Braddock, " called the driver of the 
 democrat to the elder woman, as he stopped the roan at 
 the gate. "Pooty as a peach. Miss De," gallantly added 
 the rustic courtier, besto\\dng this last compliment upon 
 the younger of the two women ; ' ' wislit you 'd marry 
 me," and the man smiled genially, awaiting the retort 
 which a friendly passage at arms never failed to bring 
 from Mrs. Braddock 's popular offspring. 
 
 Instead of receiving a verbal box on the ears as the 
 country gallant expected, Robert Likkum was taken back 
 by the object of his address answering with ready and 
 apparent sincerity: 
 
 "Marry you right off, but 'pon one condition." 
 
 As Likkum had his own particular reasons for not 
 seriously meaning matrimony, and not being "vnthout 
 vanity, he experienced that form of alarm which warns 
 the male breast of the possible unexpected surrender of 
 the female forces. Robert, in this not unusual state of 
 self deception, gazed helplessly at the instrument of his 
 discomfiture. 
 
 "Wha — what condition?" stammered he, without 
 getting down from the democrat, his unusually homely 
 albeit honest face wearing a look of ludicrous confusion. 
 
 ''That you get yourself made over," and the girl, 
 letting fly this primitive shaft, emitted a peal of silvery 
 laughter that Bob's best story could not by any possi- 
 bility have improved. 
 
 Poor Likkum turned red, but climbed out of the 
 democrat and hitched the roan. By the time he was at 
 the house, however, he was smiling bravely. 
 
 "How's Mist' Braddock?" inquired Bob, addressing 
 Mrs. Braddock and trying to appear unconscious, while 
 he found it impossible to restrain his eyes from wander- 
 
THE BRADDOCK FARM. 87 
 
 ing, at disturbed intervals, apprehensively in his late ad- 
 versary 's direction. 
 
 "Come in — come in; don't mind that gal. Peter's 
 well. He's out with the hands," and saying this, Mrs. 
 Braddock, with intonations of hearty welcome in her 
 voice, moved bustlingly into the house followed by her 
 caller; while De, brimming with mischief, hung, figura- 
 tively speaking, at all points threateningly on the Lik- 
 kum's harrassed flank, and quite overawed and discon- 
 certed the Likkum understanding. 
 
 "Now, ye behave yerself, " remonstrated Mrs. Brad- 
 dock in a hoarse whisper to her daughter. "I say, don't 
 mind her" — this again to Bob, who sat fanning himself 
 with his hat, having taken a seat on the extreme edge 
 of one of Mrs. Braddock 's stiff back parlor chairs. The 
 fun-loving De, regarding Likkum 's rout as both disas- 
 trous and complete, concluded to exercise mercy and 
 considerately left the room to presently, with gracious 
 smiles, return and hand the welcome guest a dish of en- 
 ticing early apples. 
 
 "Now, I reckon. Miss De, you do beat the Jews," 
 observed Likkum, his peace of mind agreeably restored. 
 He gazed with strong, manly admiration at the fresh 
 young face of his late tormentor. "D'yo' know who I 
 seen jes' now when I wuz comin' up the road?" added 
 he. "'Twuzn't Brad — Brad Simons. I know ye don't 
 like thet 'ere Brad. Don't blame ye. 'Twoizn't liim. 
 'Tw^iz the other." 
 
 "The other" was William White, who, liberated 
 according to the terms of agreement which the cavern 
 outlaws had made the night before, energetically rose 
 on this morning to realize that some boding and, as yet, 
 unexplained mystery, or the empty fancy of an eccentric 
 and harmless mad woman, had risen with him to pursue 
 and threaten the future of De Braddock, if not of him- 
 
88 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 self. His attempted though enforced interview with 
 Rachel Bolers had been productive of no light on the 
 meaning of her remarks, rational or otherwise, which 
 had led the freebooters to bring him into her presence. 
 There had been times when, in the soldier-writer's obser- 
 vation of the creature about the country, he had half sus- 
 pected Rachel Bolers, in her erratic movements, of mere 
 cunning assumption of the character of a lunatic. He 
 had before observed that she cherished some deep and 
 bitter animosity to Brad Simons; and he had long ago 
 been unable to determine whether or not she employed 
 her wayward manner to cloak her deeper designs. He 
 had not expected to find her in this association wdth out- 
 laws, although he was not surprised at anything con- 
 nected with the woman. His chief cause of wonderment 
 was, that the thieves and malefactors should so daringly, 
 even though previously blindfolding him, introduce him- 
 self into their secret hiding place which, by reason of 
 guarded and cunning concealment on the part of the 
 outcasts, had been but a matter of fearsome speculation 
 among the country people for years. He judged that, 
 grown bold to the point of contempt for and indifference 
 to a community which the desperadoes had so long held 
 in subjection, the outlaws had deemed it a safe venture, 
 with ordinary precautions, to gratify or endeavor to 
 gratify one to whom they appeared, as in the case of 
 Rachel Bolers, to acknowledge a species of indebtedness ; 
 or that they took the risk to gain, through her disclos- 
 ures, information of value to themselves in their own 
 other lawless operations. 
 
 That William White loved De Braddock there could 
 be no manner of doubt. It had been only the discourag- 
 ing view which, in those times, practical thought and in 
 a rural locality appeared to hold for the profession of 
 letters, that had thus far held him back from commit- 
 
THE BRADDOCK FARM. 89 
 
 ting an interest as sacred as his regard for De to any 
 questioning, until success in his chosen vocation should 
 crown his efforts. If mistaken in such a course, he had, 
 nevertheless, been equally sincere. 
 
 A blush on the fair brow of his companion told Lik- 
 kum that he had secured a speedy revenge in his refer- 
 ence to "the other." 
 
 "Well, there," continued Bob, generously abstain- 
 ing from pursuing his advantage, "ain't goin' to pester 
 ye; seen Billy — Billy White. He's a writer, and got 
 yaller hair, hain't he?" and Likkum, impelled by some 
 subtle association of "yaller hair" with literature, 
 paused. "Ain't no harm in him nuther, calk 'late?" 
 pursued Bob. He glanced as in a kind of casual inquiry 
 into the face now a trifle nearer his own, for the girl, in- 
 spired by some deeper interest than she had heretofore 
 manifested, had moved a step closer to the visitor. ' ' No, ' ' 
 said the speaker, as he examined the innocent young 
 countenance, "see there hain't; couldn't no harm come 
 out o' nuthin' 'round where you wiiz," and the rural 
 moralist lapsed into silence, apples and sage meditation. 
 "Looked kindo' pale, Billy did," said Bob presently, 
 looking up. 
 
 Could it be, thought De, that her lover's failure to 
 come to her on the evening before, as he had, in her sense 
 of maidenly and ecstatic recollection, craved permission 
 to do, was owing to illness? Her keen disappointment 
 had something of its sharper edge taken off by the sup- 
 position, although her concern became increased. She 
 could, of course, have little idea of the stress and dan- 
 ger through which the object of her love and affection 
 had passed at the hands of the outlaws on her account, 
 or, with the singular inconsistency of womankind, and 
 indeed human nature in general, her approval and ad- 
 miration would have eagerly taken the place of her solic- 
 
90 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 itude, and, so to speak, fallen down and worshiped her 
 heroic idol. 
 
 ' ' Is he sick, Robert ? ' ' quickly asked De. 
 
 ' ' Reckon none to hurt, ' ' replied Bob consolingly. 
 
 ' ' Where 'd you see him ? ' ' said De. 
 
 "He 'pin' Widder Wa'msey fix her chicken coop," 
 replied Bob. 
 
 "He boards wdth her," said the maid, appearing to 
 consider this the safer explanation for Mr. White's pres- 
 ence at the Widow Walmsey's dwelling place. 
 
 "Yep," assented Bob. 
 
 The girl drew a little sigh of seeming relief. 
 
 "She's too old," said she, as if actuated by a eun-' 
 ning second thought. 
 
 ' ' Heart 's never old, ' ' said the man. 
 
 "De," interrupted Mrs. Braddock, who had \Adth- 
 drawn to the kitchen and at this instant appeared at the 
 parlor door, "them pies need 'tendin'," and the daugh- 
 ter flew with rather more than her accustomed alacrity 
 to do her mother's bidding. 
 
 "Seems kind o' pleased \dth Billy," observed Lik- 
 kum, indicating De's vanishing form and addressing 
 himself to Mrs. Braddock. 
 
 Mother Braddock seated herself for a little spell 
 of rest, and to entertain her visitor as well as her best 
 powers would permit. She rocked comfortably in the 
 rocking chair, and finally remarked in response to Rob- 
 ert 's words, while a bumble-bee buzzed by the open door : 
 
 "Yes, De be right smart set on Billy, and he on 
 her," Mrs. Braddock drew a sigh. "Don't know 'bout 
 marryin' sometime, anyway," dubiously, if a little un- 
 faithfully, pursued the good lady in a general way. 
 "Things turns out so orful bad sometimes. There's 
 John's weddin' — marriage, ye know, weth that mizible 
 Nance — Nance Bolers. " 
 
i THE BRADDOCK FARIM. 91 
 
 >. ■ 
 
 "Maw," called De from the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Braddock hastily went to see what her daughter 
 wanted, stricter country manners being swept away by 
 domestic necessity. 
 
 "That there feller's a sing'lar kind of a cuss," went 
 on Bob gravely to himself, upon Mrs. Braddock 's tem- 
 porary withdrawal from the room, and continuing an 
 analysis of the Character of William White, who had 
 been furnishing the absorbing topic of conversation be- 
 tween himself, De's mother and De herself; "an' I 
 never know jes' whether them po'try writin' chaps 
 'mounts to nothin ', nohow. ' ' The puzzled man wrinkled 
 up his brows and took a huge bite from an apple in his 
 hand. "Guess, if any gal wants to jes' marry a 'roses- 
 red,-violets-blue,-sugar 's-sweet-and-so-are-you ' poet-and- 
 writer-chap, she kin, though," and, with this extraor- 
 dinary description of a literary character as embodied 
 in William White, Bob Likkum finished eating the apple 
 in his hand; then, repeating to himself gravely for a 
 humorist and with an accent of gentleness, " a ' roses-red,- 
 violets-blue,-sugar 's-sweet-and-so-are-you ' poet-and-writ- 
 er- chap," he left the house and went out into the door- 
 yard to see if the roan, feloniously attacked by horseflies, 
 was going to kick the democrat to pieces. 
 
 Robert Likkum had seen the better part of thirty- 
 six years of life. He was of a tall, thin, angular build 
 and, as is often seen in those possessing a vein of humor, 
 was endowed with an austere visage which would have 
 put to blush a spiritual ruler of the days of the New 
 England Blue Laws. His hair was coarse and red; his 
 skin sandy ; his cheek bones high ; his ears large ; his eyes 
 small and ferrety, and his heart was as true as steel. 
 
 As ]Mr. Likkum 's general looks of solemnity height- 
 ened his humorous traits of personal character so his 
 dress was severe in its simplicity, consisting of a well 
 
92 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 worn suit of funereal black made in the style of the day, 
 with high coat collar, tight sleeves and full trousers 
 drawn close about the ankles around which, at this mo- 
 ment, the big family Newfoundland dog was sniffing in 
 friendly fashion. A peculiarity of Bob's was, on holi- 
 days and at times of unusual and extreme festivity, to 
 change this "mortal aspect to one of gay not to say gaudy 
 attire. 
 
 "By gosh!" exclaimed Bob, suddenly slapping his 
 breast pocket, as Mrs. Braddock and De could be seen 
 through the kitchen door which, after repelling the 
 horseflies and visiting the barn, he had just reached; 
 "I do declare afore gracious, but I got a letter fur you, 
 Mis' Braddock; an' Miss De," said he, looking slyly over 
 where the figure of the attractive girl appeared midst 
 flour and pastry, " 's so sweet I f urgot the hull busi- 
 ness. ' ' 
 
 Likkum hastily thrust his hand into his coat pocket 
 and extracted a letter. He walked quickly into the 
 kitchen and handed Mrs. Braddock the forgotten mis- 
 sive which, in the spirit of accommodation existing in 
 the country, he had brought from the neighboring post 
 office. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 "From John," briefly observed Mrs. Braddoek, tak- 
 ing the letter from Bob's outstretched hand and scan- 
 ning the address. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed De interestedly, for she loved her 
 brother from whom the letter had been received. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Braddoek, and continuing to view 
 the lately received envelope ; ' ' them 's the way John alius 
 'u'd make his letters, jes' when he wuz a leetle feller," 
 and she got a pair of spectacles from a shelf at hand, 
 cleaned them carefully upon her apron, placed them 
 upon her nose and addressed herself to the perusal of the 
 communication from her absent son. 
 
 She read attentively through the letter and silently 
 laid it on the table. She took off her glasses without 
 speaking, replaced them on the shelf, scratched her nose 
 — a way she had when vexed — and returned to her pas- 
 try. She worked for several seconds without speaking. 
 Bob Likkum, in silence, remained near the door. De 
 waited nearby. 
 
 ' ' That thar ' critter '11 be the death of the pore feller, 
 reckon," at last observed Mrs. Braddoek, going steadily 
 on with the employment in hand. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" cried De in dismay. 
 
 * ' Yes, 'low it '11 be her ur him — one er t 'other '11 have 
 to get off'n the everlastin' earth — 'tain't big enough for 
 both; no, sir! Well, the Lord's ways is curious ways, 
 an' we're all on us pore sinners," and the troubled 
 woman quietly wiped a tear from her eye. She pressed 
 
 93 
 
94 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the soft dough into the tin scallops ornamenting the rim 
 of a piepan, and filled the pastry lined receptacle with 
 finely chopped apples plentifully dusted with sugar and 
 nutmeg. Covering the appetizing mixture ^vith material 
 for an upper crust, she carried the delicacy to the stove 
 and placed it with similar preparations in the hot oven. 
 
 Her companions had preserved during the foregoing 
 operations a discreet, if rather lengthened, silence. Bob 
 Likkum, looking on near the door, at length cleared his 
 throat and made effort, in the sincerity of his nature, to 
 supply relief and assurances of good will. All in that 
 neighborhood knew the singular story of young John 
 Braddock's marriage. 
 
 "Ye see, Mis' Braddock," began the sympathetic 
 Bob, clearing his throat a second time, "I don't know 
 nothin' 'bout this 'ere thing of John's present er, ez ye 
 might say, new trouble, the ' 't must be right smart to set 
 ye so sharp. Is it Nance 'at's the trouble, er that 'ere 
 brother uv Nance?" 
 
 Mrs. Braddock was either insensible to the sound of 
 Bob's voice or, which was more likely, was unwilling to 
 admit that it was not John's wife Nance, whom ]\Iartiia 
 Braddock's speech had arraigned, but the wife's brother 
 who was at fault ; and so the mother of John Braddock 
 was silent. 
 
 "Ef, Mrs. Braddock," continued Bob, who would 
 have helped a friend with money, time or service in any 
 way in his power, — "ef they's anything I kin " 
 
 Mrs. Braddock interrupted him. 
 
 "Nothin' — nothin', 't all, ye kin do, Robert," said 
 the good woman, without turning from her work — 
 •'nothin', 't all. The Lord's will be done!" 
 
 "Amen ! Mother Braddock," said a new and reveren- 
 tial voice from the rear of Bob Likkum, "and may you 
 and all who sorrow be comforted." The speaker ceased 
 
JOHN. 95 
 
 and, walking past Likkum, entered with country infor- 
 mality the tidy kitchen of the farmer's family. "Could- 
 n't make you hear, in front," added the caller explana- 
 torily, "so I stole a march, in the rear." 
 
 "Brother Woods, right glad to see you," said De's 
 mother, as the latter turned and greeted the newcomer. 
 "De, ye must git the parson a cheer. There, there; sit 
 down," and Mrs. Braddock hospitably forced her guest 
 into a seat. 
 
 "I trust," said Parson "Woods, as he settled himself 
 in the chair which De at her mother's bidding had pro- 
 vided, and gave a quick glance, in remembrance of the 
 tone of previous conversation overheard by him, at the 
 open letter still lying on the kitchen table, "that you 
 have received no bad tidings of any sort, Mrs. Brad- 
 dock?" The visitor's tones were kind and those of a 
 good and well meaning minister. Parson Woods, highly 
 esteemed, was of long-time residence amongst his flock 
 of the neighborhood Slethodist parish. 
 
 Martha Braddock 's conscience may have been quick- 
 ened by the visit of her spiritual adviser; for she ap- 
 peared, in her reply which at once followed Parson 
 Woods' inquiry, to be concerned with a recollection of 
 possible injustice done by her to her son's wife. 
 
 "Well, well, parson," said she, with otherwise ap- 
 parent irrelevance, ' ' mebbe I wuz a mite hard on the gal 
 — mebbe I wuz. 'Tain't reely the gal's fault, this time, 
 a'terall." 
 
 "What is not the girl's fault — of whom are you 
 speaking?" mildly and gravely inquired the pastor. 
 
 "John's wife, parson," replied Mother Braddock. 
 
 "I am sincerely glad to hear she is not at fault, '^ 
 rejoined the preacher. "I have been told she is making 
 John a most excellent and faithful wife," added he ear- 
 nestly. * ' You know salvation 's free, ' ' — the worthy and 
 
96 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 conscientious minister lost no opportunity of registering 
 the beneficent precepts of Methodism. 
 
 "Ye 're right — ye 're right, parson," said Martha 
 Braddock generously, and De looked pleased, — "ye 're 
 right, an' so's Bob. 'Tain't the gal — tain't her — 'tain't 
 Nance. It's jes' ez Bob sez — it's thet scamp — thet res- 
 kel Tom — Tom Bolers, Nance's brother. On'y," went 
 on the perplexed and distressed woman, "ef John hadn't 
 'a' married Nance, 'twouldn't hev' brought that scala- 
 wag-villain Tom Bolers to worrit and fret the life out'n 
 John. But," exclaimed Mother Braddock, finding a 
 welcome refuge in a change of topic, — "but that there 
 eclipse uv the sun, which is to-day, ought about to be 
 aroun'," and Mrs. Braddock walked to the kitchen door 
 and interestedly peered forth at the blinding god of 
 day, which certainly as yet gave no evidence of hiding 
 his flaming face. "But, there now, parson," further 
 ejaculated the farmer's wife, breaking off suddenly, 
 "my gracious! how kin ye stand this heat; this kitchen 
 is jes' like a bake oven. De, child, take the parson into 
 the parlor." Then, turning to Likkum: "And, Robert, 
 you and him sit in front. ' ' 
 
 John, son of Peter and Martha Braddock, was twen- 
 ty-seven years of age. He was residing and in business 
 at a town some distance from Peter's farm. Seven years 
 before this, while still living at home with the old folks, 
 he had first met Nance Bolers, who afterwards became 
 John Braddock 's wife. The young woman, from the 
 day of wrong and desertion at the hands of her unknown 
 betrayer to the time when she had secured the love 
 and confidence of young Braddock, had, in the unhappy 
 attitude in which society places the erring and the fallen, 
 been, justly or otherwise, the subject of remark for that 
 locality. 
 
 It may, at any time, be a matter of grave question 
 
JOHN. 97 
 
 how to properly dispose conventionality as to the justice 
 due those placed under its purely artificial bans. It is 
 an absurdity to visit nature's trying participations 
 with bloodcurdling and appalling censure; and many a 
 male or female young, had he or she not been terrorized 
 by habitual parental condemnation into withholding 
 confidence at a particular time of life, would have es- 
 caped destruction resulting from deceit, evasion and 
 flight. 
 
 Young Braddock was a man of integrity. He was 
 singularly pure minded. He had his own conception of 
 right and a corresponding tenacity in adhering to 
 that conception, which to a less charitably minded per- 
 son might have appeared lacking in worldly wisdom. 
 
 John's letter spoke of trouble. Truth claims the 
 statement that it was not trouble of Nance's bringing 
 about. Nance had an infinitely no-account brother, 
 whose unholy, unlimited and regrettable capacity for 
 mischief was eventually to contribute materially to John 
 Braddock 's calamitous undoing; and, in the tangled 
 windings of destiny, help ravel the phantoms from the 
 meshes of our fleeting lives ! 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHERE THIEVES FELL OUT AND TOM BOLERS CAME IN. 
 
 Hen, the outlaw, walked on ahead of his chieftain, 
 while the latter worthy despoiled humankind. 
 
 ' ' Get the money, ' ' Black Hank spoke and toyed with 
 the fringes of his great black beard, whose somber hue 
 put a lonely crow, at that moment flying high over the 
 heads of the outlaw leader and his quarry, apparently 
 to the blush and sent it cawing protestingly to the hills. 
 A buzzard wheeling above a neighboring wood, past 
 which Hank and his contemplated victim were slowly 
 walking, circled nearer; seemingly to share in the prey 
 which, in the threat and gloom of coming storm and 
 approaching night, the outlaws were luring to his fate. 
 
 Tom Bolers, a young reprobate of not a very high 
 order of intelligence at best and forming the lawless 
 outcast's present dupe, broke into the speech of his own 
 type. 
 
 "How 'ml goin' to know yo'll do the square thing 
 by me, huh ? " he queried. 
 
 Hank kicked a stone out of his way — Bolers looked 
 at the buzzard; they continued their slow, self occupied 
 walk. 
 
 "If you don't git th' money an' give it to us, after 
 ■what I've told you about our secrets, we'll put ye out o' 
 business, anyway," threatened the outlaw leader signi- 
 ficantly. "I tell ye it'll cost that much to j'ine us an' 
 become a reg'lar member — and bein' told all about the 
 gang," continued the ruffian evilly, and with an appar- 
 ent understanding of a weakness of character making 
 
 98 
 
WHERE THIEVES FELL OUT. 99 
 
 the other easy of management, "an' havin' said yo'd 
 j 'ine, ef ye don 't do it we '11 leg ye, now, anyhow, ' ' which 
 evidently meant something of so direful a description 
 to Tom's apprehension that he preferred, under any con- 
 ditions, to avoid it, for he hastened to assure the chief of 
 desperadoes that he would discharge all pledges he had 
 made, or willingly abide the consequences. 
 
 "Willin' ur not," retorted Hank gruffly, "ye '11 git 
 'em." 
 
 "Ain't got no money, meself," went on Bolers, thus 
 agreeably and forcibly admonished. "Don't know 
 how '11 git any," and he gazed vaguely upon the un- 
 moved countenance of the robber. 
 
 "'Tain't my business; you git it," was the implac- 
 able reception the other met %\dth from Black Hank. 
 "Wouldn't keer nothin' 'bout it," Tom's baleful com- 
 panion continued, "ef ye hadn't 'a' led us to suppose 
 ye 'd j 'ine us. Ye '11 j 'ine us now, ' ' rethreatened Hank,, 
 "er ye '11 git lost some night an' never git found, no 
 more. Understand that, do ye?" The speaker paused 
 loweringly, and waved his hand wtih a menacing ges- 
 ture before Tom Boler's face, planting himself screen- 
 ingly in front of Tom as a farmer went by in a wagon 
 and turned to gaze curiously at the men in the roadway. 
 
 Bolers stared moodily and heavily at the ground, 
 his eyes dropping their look before the hypnotism of the 
 other man's fierce and determined manner. 
 
 "Ye've a little property, hain't ye?" inquired Tom's 
 taskmaster, walking a little way to where his henchman, 
 the trusty Hen, — who had tactfully allowed his chief to 
 be alone with their prey, — stood ruminating by himself. 
 "Hain't he a little property. Hen, eh?" 
 
 "Shore — sart'in," said the other outlaw, working up 
 a manner of genial assent. 
 
 "It's in court — 'tain't settled — they're lawin' — 
 
100 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 'twon't do no good," replied John Braddock's brother 
 in law. 
 
 "Well," retorted the leader of the outlaws, contin- 
 uing to play upon the fears of his vietim, "you know 
 too much for to be let off now. Can't you get it, some 
 way, out of Simons; you got a good chance on his cat- 
 tle," cunningly insinuated the man, — "you work his 
 cattle driving for him, sometimes, don't you? I've no 
 cause, myself, to love Simons, any more than anybody 
 else has — he's a scoundrel. God knows!" said the 
 speaker apparently giving but scant attention to the pre- 
 sumed unimportance of his present companion, and los- 
 ing for an instant an attribute of disguise in voice and 
 manner; "he has done for me, together with what I owe 
 them at Washington." The man stopped suddenly, 
 when a peal of thunder and a flash of lightning gave 
 token of the coming tempest. The robber stood un- 
 moved. The coarse, country dialect, evidently assumed 
 for a purpose of concealment of his real identity, had 
 entirely disappeared. He looked quickly and suspi- 
 ciously at Bolers. Seemingly satisfied that the duller in- 
 tellect of the subject of his designs had apprehended 
 nothing unusual from the conclusion of his speech, he 
 remained silent. He had apparently quite forgotten, for 
 the moment, the presence of his second criminal asso- 
 ciate. The latter looked quickly at the outlaw leader, 
 but said nothing. 
 
 "Couldn't git nary out o' Simons, lest I forged him," 
 returned Nance's brother. 
 
 "Lest ye what?" asked Black Hank. 
 
 "Forged — forged his name," replied Tom. 
 
 ' ' Kin ye forge ? ' ' queried Hank, while his tones rang 
 true, once rbore, with the accents of the soil. 
 
 "I done some uv it," rejoined Bolers sheepishly. 
 
WHERE THIEVES FELL OUT. ■■^^}. 
 
 "Do it ag'in," said the robber. "Ain't thet so, Hen, 
 — doitag'in?" 
 
 "Shore — sart'in," said Hen. 
 
 "I dunno — it's putty risky," objected Tom. "Never 
 done much at it, 'cept ter practice. ' ' 
 
 "Simons uz got more'n he ought to have, anyway," 
 insisted the tempter; "ain't he, Hen?" 
 
 "Shore," said Hen. 
 
 "Yes, he's mighty rich," was the prospective accom- 
 plice's hesitating rejoinder. 
 
 "You're a fool if you don't tap him, that's all," 
 growled Hank. ' ' You 're most as bad as any of us ; you 
 might as well go the hull hog er none. Eh, Hen ? ' ' 
 
 "Sart'in," said Hen. 
 
 "Will you let me in on everything, if I do?" queried 
 the timid and hesitating neophyte. 
 
 "Shore an' sart'in," replied the chief and lieuten- 
 ant in unison. 
 
 The storm that had been muttering so long, here at 
 last broke, descending upon the devoted trio in a hurri- 
 cane of wind, floods of furious rain, dazzling and terri- 
 fying lightning and deafening crash of bellowing thun- 
 der. Together with this, night was upon them. 
 
 "The hut's off the road, there," shouted Hen, and 
 the three men broke into a run. 
 
 With difficulty, after leaving the road, they made 
 their way through a piece of wood, until panting and 
 drenched they found themselves at a small, rude cabin in 
 a little clearing in the midst of forest trees. The out- 
 laws were evidently familiar enough with the locality 
 and the crude shelter they sought, and unhesitatingly 
 the chief of the miscreants pushed open the door of the 
 hut and entered. He was quickly followed by the others. 
 
 Here, at least, was protection from the raging ele- 
 ments without; and no time was lost in adapting their 
 
•jog ;: .' : THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 needs to the circumstances of the place. A light was 
 struck, and an old oil lamp was soon smoking its murky 
 illumination on a battered table in the center of the one 
 small room of which the cabin consisted. The place, 
 constructed in the most primitive style of rough, unhewn 
 logs, had evidently, as a law abiding abode, long been 
 uninhabited; and, doubtless, was now being used exclu- 
 sively by the outlaws as a rendezvous for their nefarious 
 doings. 
 
 "There," growled the outlaw leader, like a huge dog 
 shaking the rain from his drenched and saturated cloth- 
 ing. He took his hat from his head and threw the water 
 off it. "Sit down, you fellers," he said. 
 
 The others shook the rain from themselves. 
 
 A dilapidated chair and a rough bench were dragged 
 to the table. 
 
 "Now," directed Black Hank, as the storm beat out- 
 side, "you git that 'air paper ready that'll fetch the 
 money on Simons ' name, ' ' and the outlaw motioned Tom 
 Bolers to the table. "Here's some blank checks, and 
 here's his name on a letter I found." The freebooter 
 coolly took a letter from his own pocket, indifferently 
 tore away the signature at the end and handed the fatal 
 name to the intended forger. 
 
 Already having the appearance of being singularly 
 prepared for an event which manifestly had been wholly 
 unforeseen by the lawless leader, Black Hank sought for 
 and obtained from a hidden recess in the cabin a supply 
 of ink and a pen. These articles he placed upon the 
 table, at which the three seated themselves; and, by the 
 light of the flaring lamp, while the thunder rent and 
 tore and the dizzy, jagged lightning shot and fired the 
 air of the forest and the night without, the two outlaws 
 sat and grimly watched Tom Bolers laboriously but suc- 
 cessfully commit a forgery of Brad Simons' signature. 
 
WHERE THIEVES FELL OUT. 103 
 
 As the sinister and baleful act was accomplished, the 
 hearing of the darkling and stealthy operators was sud- 
 denly shattered and paralyzed by a deafening, ear split- 
 ting crash and roar, and through the narrow glass win- 
 dow of the hut came a blinding flash of lightning. The 
 little group of criminals sprang involuntarily to the 
 door. Black Hank impulsively threw it open. Before 
 the entrance there lay, broken, twisted, riven — as if 
 thro^\^l down by the hand of some giant of the tempest — 
 a mighty oak — a monarch laid low, in his native wilds — 
 and covering, with bewildering and direful confusion, 
 half of the little clearing in which the startled, schem- 
 ing and unworthy triumvirate stood. 
 
 And the imps and spirit of the storm and tempest, 
 abroad in the thick, dense growth and night 's black dark- 
 ness of the forest wilderness, leaped and rioted and 
 romped above and around the havoc they had wrought. 
 
 It was, perhaps, Tom Bolers' first real criminal of- 
 fense — certainly he had never as yet been detected in 
 flagrant crime ; and the unsuspicious banker to whom, in 
 due course, the forged check was presented, knowing of 
 Tom's general connection with Simons in the latter 's cat- 
 tle interest, paid the money readily enough. Although 
 Brad learned at once of the unpleasant liberty taken 
 with his bank account, for some reason he kept the affair 
 quiet until speedily brought alone to the attention of 
 John Braddock by the cattleman himself. John in- 
 stantly offered, for the sake of his wife, Tom's sister, to 
 make good Brad's loss, if Brad in his turn would drop 
 the criminal prosecution of John's brother in law. Now, 
 it was right here that Simons first began secretly and 
 craftily to develope a formidable and treacherous design 
 upon the peace and welfare of De Braddock and De 
 Braddock 's brother. Cordially pretending to receive 
 
104 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 John Braddoek's amicable proposals in good faith, he 
 set to work to accomplish that which he had in view. 
 
 Tom Bolers' low order of intelligence and almost 
 total lack of general moral perception had caused him 
 to realize little if anything of the necessity of flight or 
 escape ; and, while Simons for his own purposes left him 
 at large, Tom was still to bear the measure of his own 
 responsibility and offense. 
 
 There was a meeting between John Braddock and 
 Tom Bolers of a stormy and protracted nature. 
 
 "For your sister's sake, Tom,— for your sister's 
 sake," John eventually said, "I cannot see you go to 
 the penitentiary. I am not a man of large means, as you 
 know. Simons, however, will have to be paid. ' ' 
 
 Tom Bolers looked at his brother in law with a hang- 
 dog expression. "There's that property uv mine in 
 court," rejoined Nance's brother. "'Tain't settled yit, 
 and 'tain't much, but 's 'nuff " 
 
 "I've thought of that," quickly interrupted the 
 other; "and I will give my note to Brad; and you can 
 pay, if you Mdn your case, ' ' 
 
 Nance's husband returned to Brad Simons; and, with 
 a sense of the delicacy and concern which always in- 
 spired the country merchant when he thought of the 
 interests and welfare of Nance, opened negotiations with 
 the defrauded though wily cattle dealer. 
 
 "Brad," said he, handing the former a duly executed 
 note for the amount of Tom 's forgery, ' ' I want this mat- 
 ter to stop right here. You understand, of course?" 
 Braddoek's manner was determined and uncompromis- 
 ing. To him, there could be but one settlement. For a 
 moment, he was able to hold Simons closely fixed with 
 his eyes. 
 
 Brad then shifted his own look from the other man's 
 direct, strong gaze. 
 
WHERE THIEVES FELL OUT. 105 
 
 ''Certainly, certainly," responded Simons shiftily. 
 
 "You understand," persisted Braddock; "there will 
 be no prosecution." 
 
 "Oh, of course not," returned the other. 
 
 "There must be none, on account of my wife," added 
 Tom Bolers' earnest and determined brother in law de- 
 cisively. 
 
 Brad Simons appeared to reflect for a moment, and 
 then allowed his gaze, withdrawn for an instant, to re- 
 turn, with a look of curious scrutiny, to Braddock 's set, 
 immovable countenance. 
 
 "Oh, yes; on account of your wife. To be sure," 
 the unscrupulous cattleman replied, but with an appear- 
 ance of preoccupation and insincerity which could hardly 
 impress his companion reassuringly. 
 
 "It's understood, is it?" urged John Braddock. 
 
 "Perfectly," replied Brad Simons. 
 
 And it was — by Bradj while, hardly satisfied, John 
 went away. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A SEASONABLE CONSPIRACY. 
 
 It happened later that a party of four or five drovers, 
 including Tom Bolers and loafing in Brad Simons' stable 
 lot, could see approaching on the neighboring road the 
 figure of a man riding a powerful bay horse. 
 
 One of the idlers, with an evil cast in his eye and 
 other marks about his general appearance that would 
 have turned a law abiding citizen away from his ^dcinity 
 on a dark night, broke a silence prevailing among the 
 unsavory crew -wdth the remark: 
 
 "Bolers, there's yer man a-comin' up ther road, 
 now." 
 
 This announcement occasioned Tom Bolers seated 
 upon a log to lift his gaze from the ground, where he had 
 previously fixed it in gloomy silence. 
 
 "Any uv your darn biz'ness, ef 'e is?" growled 
 Bolers ill conditionally. 
 
 "Ye all fired brute, ye," retorted the first speaker 
 with just resentment, "w'en I do ye a favor, ag'in, ye 'II 
 mos' likely know it. Ye ought ter be ducked in the hoss 
 trough, there, — that 's w 'at ye ought ; an ' f er half a cent 
 I'd do it fer ye," and Tom's censor eyed, with the ap- 
 pearance of ominous intention, the stable-yard trough at 
 the pump, filled with water for the stock. 
 
 The rider, a preliminary view of whom had awakened 
 this interesting passage, now reached the barnyard 
 where the drovers were collected. One of them slouched 
 up and opened the gate. 
 
 "Hello, Tom," genially called the horseman as he 
 entered the stable yard, and catching sight of Tom Bolers 
 
 106 
 
A SEASONABLE CONSPIRACY. 107 
 
 sulking on the log. Brad affected to smile cordially from 
 horseback, and evidently meant to be agreeable. 
 
 "Well, you sent fur me, an' I'm here," responded 
 John Braddock's brother in law, sulkily rising to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Here, Bill, put this horse up," ordered Brad of one 
 of his drovers, at the same time dismounting and toss- 
 ing his horse's bridle into the man's outstretched hand. 
 "Tom," continued the cattle raiser pleasantly, turning 
 to Bolers, "come into the house with me." 
 
 Bradford or, as he was commonly called, Brad Simons 
 was a trifle past forty years of age. His face of florid 
 complexion was round and smooth and but for something 
 in the bright, glancing eyes that told of a false heart it 
 might have been a face- entitled to a certificate of unqual- 
 ified good nature. His hair was brown ; his figure heavy 
 though not fleshy, giving an impression of shapelienss 
 owing to good physical proportions. He vv'eighed fully 
 two liuudred pounds. He was six feet in height. His 
 dress was a suit of snuff color which had come, in an 
 habitual style of attire affected by the cattleman, to fa- 
 miliarly distinguish Brad Simons' appearance through- 
 out that region. 
 
 Tom Bolers' age was twenty-four. He was of com- 
 monplace appearance, but for the dark, curling hair and 
 not ill looking face. Any impression that he might have 
 made upon a beholder, however, was lost in an indefin- 
 able weakness that seemed to envelope him as in a mist. 
 
 When Brad Simons, with Tom, entered the house, 
 he proceeded directly to the former's private room. Tom 
 Bolers' conductor, as the two entered the apartment, 
 closed the door and nodded easily to a chair, at the same 
 time requesting his companion to be seated. The room 
 to which the grazier had brought his visitor was, for the 
 use of one whose time was chiefly occupied in raising cat- 
 
108 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 tie, unusually well stocked with books. When Tom Bolers 
 had seated himself, Simons himself took a chair and at 
 once broached his object in bringing this meeting about. 
 
 "Tom," began Brad assuming a tone of real or af- 
 fected kindness, "you know how your brother in law 
 Jolm Braddock has befriended you. This hardly needs 
 comment; but I will say, nevertheless," went on the 
 speaker weighing his words carefully and speaking wdth 
 a peculiar emphasis, "that he has shown a deep and 
 worthy interest in you as the brother of his wife and, 
 from my knowledge of him, would go to much greater 
 lengths for your sister's sake to save you from the con- 
 sequences of this crime. I have not been able, Tom, as 
 yet to finally see my way," pursued Brad Simons with 
 an edifying appearance of public virtue, "as a citizen 
 to abandon prosecution of your error; but," added the 
 man quickly, perceiving the cloud of genuine apprehen- 
 sion and terror deepening on Tom 's face, ' ' I could, in all 
 probability, let you off — upon certain conditions. ' ' Here 
 the stockman paused and watched his victim who, with 
 his hands clasped and his elbows resting upon his knees, 
 sat gazing intently at the floor. 
 
 Without raising his eyes Tom Bolers asked, in a 
 mechanical way colored by the general air of hopeless- 
 ness which seemed natural with him : 
 
 "Wliat is it ye want uv me? Say it and don't play 
 with a feller, like a cat with a mouse." 
 
 Simons laughed lightly, and said: 
 
 "Why, you see, Tom, I don't mind telling you: — 
 I'm a little sweet on your brother in law's sister De, and 
 would like to marry and get out of this plagued, lonely 
 bachelor life," and he spoke with a touch of something 
 like real feeling. "I am informed, however," the man 
 went on, "that there is another — person," he uttered 
 the word "person" as though this portion of his com- 
 
A SEASONABLE CONSPIRACY. 109 
 
 munication was the most distasteful part of his task, — 
 "a writer — a one armed soldier, I believe; well, he has 
 some headway Avith ]\Iiss Braddock and," wound up 
 Brad speciously, " I'll have to have a little help. ' ' 
 
 "Go on," said Tom without changing his position, 
 his elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed in moody con- 
 templation upon his inquisitor's heavy riding boots 
 planted, upon their owner's feet, implacably on the 
 floor before Tom Bolers' restless and harried eyes. 
 
 "As I have said," continued the faithless dealer in 
 cattle, "I am aware of the high place your own sister 
 Nance holds, as his wife, in your brother in law's affec- 
 tions, and that it would hurt her for you to come to harm 
 of any kind that might be avoided. Now, Tom, make 
 John understand that I can be depended on to call off 
 the prosecution, if he will help me to his sister, and you 
 and I can call quits. ' ' 
 
 The cattleman's alluring and fragrant roses were 
 plentifully studded and bedecked with thorns of a pe- 
 culiar and piercing sharpness. Brad Simons, in this 
 adroit and cunning speech, well knew the torture it 
 would be to Nance Braddock, a naturally high minded 
 girl, to have her own name and that of her husband John 
 Braddock dragged before the public and the wretched 
 past, as by association, revived by her brother's prosecu- 
 tion for forgery; and he, also, knew John Braddock 's 
 unwillingness to permit her to suffer so. 
 
 Tom Bolers, when Brad Simons concluded, replied, 
 still without lifting his eyes, though addressing his em- 
 ployer with a show of respect : 
 
 "You know 's well 's I do, Mr. Simons, 'at / don't 
 care 'f ye marry De Braddock er the Queen uv England, 
 but yer goin' ter have trouble 'bout doin' it," Tom's re- 
 mark being obscured with some doubt whether the diffi- 
 culty referred to regarded a matrimonial design upon the 
 
110 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 heroine of our story or the then ruler of the right and 
 tight little British Isle; but Brad understood and, here, 
 mercilessly though smilingly rejoined : 
 
 "You wouldn't like to go to the penitentiary, Tom, 
 would you ? Look here, now, — come ! You see what you 
 can do with John Braddock. You'll' either make him 
 understand that his wife's brother will take a trip up 
 the road," pursued Tom's inexorable taskmaster signif- 
 icantly, "or I must have his sister," and it would have 
 been attended with some trouble to determine which 
 would have been the least acceptable to John. 
 
 The alternative in all this harangue of Brad Simons 
 was but too plain to the overburdened and oppressed 
 mind of the unhappy forger, who viewed with but little 
 consolation the results which he knew Avould come of an 
 appeal to John Braddock 's influence with John's sister 
 De in favor of the cattle dealer. Tom groaned in spirit. 
 "Them's hard conditions, Mr. Simons," he said 
 presently, shifting in his chair. 
 
 "Take them, or leave them," retorted the merciless 
 and relentless cattleman, preserving an air of politeness 
 which he had, up to this time, adopted with some show of 
 cordiality towards his unfortunate victim, but now per- 
 mitting a note of ominous intimidation to creep into his 
 cold, searching voice. 
 
 "I'll do, sir, the best I can to help ye," muttered 
 Nance Bolers' distressed and unhappy brother hope- 
 lessly. 
 
 "That," rejoined Simons immovably, "is about all 
 any of us can do," and, in the cheerful shadow of the 
 walls of the state's comfortable and alluring home for 
 playful and sportive breakers of the law, the wretched 
 and ensnared kinsman of John Braddock 's wife crept 
 sullenly out of the tricky and dishonorable cattle mer- 
 chant's harsh and repellent presence. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN AGGRAVATED AND DEADLY THREAT. 
 
 A man, at the close of day, was footing it briskly 
 along the sidewalk of a thriving Indiana town. From 
 the direction opposite to that which he was pursuing, 
 there hurried a child. The late cloudy summer after- 
 noon was beginning to blend into the first shadows of 
 the evening, and the thick shade of the foliage of trees 
 lining the walk east the two figures into something like 
 indistinctness. As they neared each other it was evident 
 that the child, a little girl, was influenced by some strong 
 and intense excitement. As she caught sight of the man, 
 she sped on until her rapid gait became a run, and pant- 
 ing she reached the object of her haste. 
 
 "Oh! papa," gasped the child. 
 
 The person so addressed had halted in consternation 
 upon recognizing the disordered little figure. 
 
 ' ' Nanny ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "Hurry, hurry," was all the little one could say. 
 
 "What is the matter? Tell me," said her father. 
 
 "Mama — " panted the child. 
 
 ' ' Nanny, do you hear me ! what is the matter ? ' ' 
 
 "Mama — a man I — she sent me to find you." 
 
 "Come," said the elder, seeing he could get no con- 
 nected utterance, and hurrying on to his home not far 
 distant. 
 
 As John Braddoek — we are follo^^•ing De's brother 
 — neared his dwelling, he perceived his wife standing in 
 the doorway. Facing her in the path leading from the 
 
 111 
 
112 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 gate to the door, there loafed a fellow of rough, ill fa- 
 vored appearance. As the hurrying man approached, 
 the woman cried : 
 
 "John, this man has insulted me." 
 
 Braddock hastily threw open the gate and stepped 
 into the yard. He advanced, threateningly, as his wife's 
 insulter turned. 
 
 "Be off," commanded Braddock. 
 
 The intruder smiled foolishly. 
 
 "Well, Mr. John Braddock," he retorted, letting his 
 glance drop before the blazing eyes of the incensed hus- 
 band, ' ' I don 't know ez you, er yer vnte, be so pow 'rf ul 
 T)ove folks," a nameless slur pervaded the man's tones — 
 a slur there was no mistaking. 
 
 Braddock had been tolerant of the conditions that 
 his mfe's past had put upon a just and generous soul, 
 in the government of his own conduct to such flickerings 
 of the conventional ^dew as his way might be beset ^vith. 
 He had deemed it wisest to ignore the ordinary sneer 
 with which justly or unjustly the path of the fallen is 
 prickled. Yet there could be no middle course, here; 
 and the surge of passion welling up ^^^tllin the breast 
 of Nance's husband was such that other and even better 
 men than John Braddock have been swept away by it — ■ 
 the passion of incensed and indignant rage against the 
 defiler of the atmosphere of home. 
 
 "See here," said Braddock in a tone of studied self 
 repression and grasping the other's shoulder, — when the 
 trespasser threw off the hold. 
 
 "Oh, I knew your wile; what wuz she?" was the 
 fellow's coarse and unfeeling retort. 
 
 At this John grew livid. There was a large, red- 
 painted iron vase holding earth and flowers standing 
 near and, being a powerful, muscular man from his early 
 farm training, he tore this from the ground with a single 
 
A DEADLY THREAT. 113 
 
 wrench and s^nmg it to one side as if it had been an In- 
 dian club. 
 
 "John!" screamed Nance. "Go — go — he'll kill 
 you," she shrieked, appalled at the fearful look upon 
 her husband's distorted and passion inflamed counte- 
 nance, and endeavoring, by wild and excited gestures, 
 to drive the threatened and miserable man away. 
 
 John Braddock heard his wife's agonized screams, 
 and quickly remembered himself. He at once quietly 
 put the vase down. 
 
 "Zeke Smithin," he said steadily, "if I ever catch 
 you here again, I shall kill you. ' ' 
 
 "Rough words, like chickens, Mr. John Braddock, 
 come home to roost, said Ezekiel Smithin as he moved off 
 sulky and whipped. 
 
 "No trouble, I hope," called a voice from the gate, 
 and the brother of De Braddock saw Brad Simons stand- 
 ing on the walk without, where, unnoticed, he had been 
 a witness of the recent scene. 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' replied John Braddock, none too well pleased 
 at having an affair of this kind observed by another and 
 that other, Brad Simons. 
 
 And Simons proceeded on his way, with this fateful 
 link of memory to supply, one day, a completer chain of 
 poor John's troubles. 
 
 Nance Braddock was a woman of handsome face and 
 form. Her dress was in the old style, with ^vide collar 
 and flowing sleeves and of a red material which con- 
 trasted effectively the dark hair and brunette, Gipsy like 
 features of its owner. Plain, old fashioned drop ear- 
 rings and, at the throat, a gold rimmed brooch, in which 
 was a miniature of John, further picturesquely added to 
 her costume. 
 
 John Braddock, in a general merchandise store, by 
 hard w^ork and close application had become a partner, 
 
114 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 where beginning as a clerk and bookkeeper. He pos- 
 sessed the rich, olive complexion characteristic of a part 
 of his family; a strong Roman nose; a face inclined to 
 be rugged and bony, like that of his father Uncle Peter 
 Braddock, and wore a long mustache matching in color 
 his heavy, dark, waving hair. He was of a tall, well de- 
 veloped figure, neatly dressed in clothing of a gray mix- 
 ture and presented, all in all, the active appearance of 
 a prosperous and well to do man of country business. 
 
 John Braddock, wisely ignoring further reference to 
 the occurrences that had just transpired, made his way 
 to the house. His wife followed. 
 
 "John," said Nance, "Tom is here." There was, 
 in the woman's humble tones, an apology filled with a 
 sense of the relation that this subject of her brother Tom 
 bore to the patience, the good nature and tolerant wis- 
 dom of her beset and much tried husband. 
 "Why did you not call him out, when — ?" 
 "When that man insulted me?" Nance glanced 
 hastily at her husband. "Tom has already gotten him- 
 self in a bad enough fix. I thought you could not be 
 far off." 
 
 "Well, well," replied the country trader kindly, "we 
 must make the best of poor Tom, as we try to do of every- 
 thing — I know how you feel. Where is he, Nanny ? ' ' 
 
 "In the parlor," rejoined Nance in a subdued voice. 
 "John," here exclaimed the woman impulsively, and 
 giving rein to her feelings, "you are, I believe, the best 
 man in the world. Yes, you are," insisted the moved 
 woman, when her husband made as if to protest, and 
 throwing her arms around his neck, — "I know you are." 
 "Nonsense, Nancy, the shoe's on the other foot. 
 There, there, don't give way," said her husband paci- 
 fyingly, for Nance was sobbing on the breast of the de- 
 voted man who held her in his arms. "Come, Nanny, 
 
A DEADLY THREAT. 115 
 
 I'll see Tom, at once, — there !" and John kissed away his 
 wife's tears, and proceeded to inter\dew his wife's incor- 
 rigible brother. 
 
 As John Braddock entered the room which Nance 
 had indicated as being occupied by Tom Bolers, he per- 
 ceived the object of his quest seated in an attitute of pro- 
 found dejection and despair; and, with head sunk upon 
 his breast, waiting for his sister's husband to open the 
 trying interview. 
 
 This John immediately did, though kindly. 
 
 "Tom," said the business man as he entered the 
 room, "what now? I thought we had arranged our 
 affairs as satisfactory as was possible, when we last 
 discussed them. What new troubles have brought you 
 back to me?" 
 
 "Why, ye see," responded Bolers spurred by the 
 recollection of his late meeting with Brad Simons and 
 evincing some tact, while it was evident he had no share 
 of the limited culture which his sister possessed, ' ' I come 
 down ter talk over a' idee that jes' happened lately ter 
 come inter my head about this Brad Simons biz'ness. I 
 thought, maybe," continued the man moistening his lips 
 and hesitating, and then proceeding abruptly as if to 
 overcome any lurking irresolution, — "I thought as how 
 Brad Simons might be fetched to let up wethout that 
 note er nothin'." 
 
 "All right, Tom, let's hear," said the other still 
 kindly, although eying his unpromising brother in law 
 narrowly and keenly. ' ' Out with it, ' ' added the speaker 
 perceiving his visitor, once more, hesitate. "Though I 
 tell you, plainly. Brad must be paid." 
 
 "Ye know," went on Tom thus directed, "Brad 's — 
 w-ell, ye know, he's rich — made it, himself — jes' like 
 you've bin gittin' on, though ye ain't got ez much, an' — 
 
116 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 truth is, ye know 's well as me, he's mighty sot on yer 
 sister — " 
 
 "Tom," said John Braddock, soberly interrupting 
 the anxious and hurried speaker, and yet preserving, 
 in recollection of Nance, an air of consideration, — while 
 he spoke with far greater force than he had, heretofore, 
 employed, "you must not bring my sister into this, I 
 cannot understand why you come to me, again — Simons 
 and I settled the matter." 
 
 Tom Bolers, who knew more of the amiable work- 
 ings of Mr. Simons' secret mind than the other could, 
 was perforce obliged to maintain a silence under the 
 merchant's hopeful observations. He shifted restlessly 
 in his chair, however, and, by other outward and visible 
 signs, gave evidence of a mind inwardly and spiritually 
 ill at ease. 
 
 Braddock looked with quick suspicion at his com- 
 panion. 
 
 Simons has broken his promise to me, has he?" said 
 Tom Bolers' brother in law. 
 
 Bolers nodded his head. 
 
 John Braddock thought rapidly. He knew of De's 
 aversion to Simons. Nevertheless, she and the family 
 might without harm have some influence with him. 
 
 "I'll tell you, Tom, what I'll do," gravely proposed 
 the country business man, after a weighty pause ; " I '11 
 write my folks and have them say a good word for you 
 with Brad, — but that's all; and that's all that's pos- 
 sible." 
 
 This was something, though Tom was shrewd enough 
 to know it was little; but with this Tom Bolers was 
 obliged to content himself or rather, in view of the char- 
 acter of satisfaction afforded him by Simons' recent 
 cheerful references to the penitentiary, it may be more 
 accurately stated that, with John Braddock 's conclud- 
 
A DEADLY THREAT. 117 
 
 ing expressions, Tom Bolers was forced to discontent 
 himself. 
 
 It was thus the letter handed ]\Iother Braddock, by- 
 Bob Likkum, was inspired and written. 
 
 The door of the room, in which Nance's husband and 
 brother were holding their consultation, opened as Mr. 
 Braddock uttered his final words, and a little head of 
 dark, irregularly tossed hair thrust itself within the 
 apartment. 
 
 "Papa," said the child Nanny, "mama says tell you 
 supper's ready." 
 
 The father, in his chair, partly turned, with a 
 bright smile. 
 
 "You talking about that old Brad Simons?" ex- 
 claimed the child. ' ' I just hate him. He 's a bad, wicked 
 man." 
 
 When Tom Bolers left John Braddock 's house he met 
 Zeke Swithin, whom John had threatened to kill, and 
 Zeke, with an oath, scowled at Bolers and said, "that 
 he'd make the words John Braddock had used ag'in' 
 him, afore his wife that day, the cause of bringing Mr. 
 John Braddock down. ' ' 
 
 And, one day, it so fell out. 
 
 And Rachel Bolers and Brad Simons and Jason Jump 
 danced, with the other merry, merry phantom shapes, 
 gleefully around, around in the gay and lightsome 
 frolic. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A POLITICAL VISITATION; AND A BANK EOBBERY. 
 
 Simons' naturally evil and infirm temperament did 
 not leave him long at rest, after he had jdelded to Jason 
 Jump's urgent insistence that Mrs. Walker and her 
 daughter be extricated from the objectionable clutches 
 of Swarth Blazes, at Washington; and, in spite of the 
 continued devotion of the cattleman to the beautiful per- 
 son and character of De Braddock, led away by the be- 
 wildering beauty of IMona's gold-bronze locks and the 
 other attractions of her fascinating person Brad soon 
 began to show a questionable partiality for Mona 
 Walker. 
 
 By adroit and apparently well meaning arrangements 
 and assurances, it was not long before he had Mona's 
 mother consent, in the capacity of housekeeper, to take 
 charge of his home which, by death of parents, had been 
 left to his keeping in bachelorhood. 
 
 The daughter, for a while, was enabled to teach 
 school, under Brad's agreement with Jump to secure for 
 her reputable employment; and Mona, of course, lived 
 with her mother at Simons ' place. 
 
 But death winnows the harvest; and Mona's mother 
 was selected by the hand of the wdnnower to leave the 
 grain here and add to the seed of hereafter. 
 
 When the mother died, the daughter gave herself up 
 to unrestrained grief; and, after her first deeper sorrow 
 had subsided, was soothingly urged, by Brad Simons, to 
 take the place of her mother in the care of his domestic 
 establishment. 
 
 118 
 
A POLITICAL VISITATION; ROBBERY. 119 
 
 This, at first, she, of course, positively refused to do. 
 She was supporting herself in comfort, by teaching. 
 Brad pressed his request, offering a handsome increase 
 in salary over that which she received as a teacher. She 
 still held out against his inducements. Finally, being 
 alone in the world and without other home, at the time, 
 than that in which she and her mother had lived with the 
 cattle merchant, IMona was persuaded to listen to a pro- 
 posal, on Brad's part, to marry her at a future day. So 
 determined had Simons become in an unscrupulous and 
 unworthy design upon the lonely young woman (he had 
 not abandoned his pursuit of De Braddock), that he was 
 brought to sign a marriage agreement with IMona 
 Walker, thinking to adjust with money his wrong to the 
 girl, after proposed betrayal of his intended dupe. The 
 written understanding, which afterward played so 
 marked a part in the life of Brad Simons, was voluntari- 
 ly proposed, by Brad himself, at a critical time v,-hen he 
 saw his victim wavering. It was entered into in all good 
 faith by the innocent and motherless girl ; who, however, 
 to the end — in her somewhat isolated position — remained 
 unaffected by the dishonorable and treacherous purposes 
 of the base and unworthy schemer. 
 
 In this general and varied situation of the drama and 
 its relative emotions, Swarth Blazes happened by the 
 grace of politics, to visit Indiana. 
 
 Mr. Blazes does not continue with us to the end of our 
 performance ; and hence his brief and final appearance, 
 in the near future, shall be presented as effectively as 
 possible. 
 
 The interstate relations existing between political 
 parties had caused those of Mr. Blazes' faith to invite 
 Mr. Blazes to come from his nearby state to take part in 
 the campaign interests of the Hoosiers; and the Honor- 
 able Swarth, much to his surprise and confusion, found 
 
120 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 himself, one day, face to face with Jason Jump, to whose 
 meritorious and praiseworthy efforts j\Iona Walker, now 
 in charge of Mr. Simons' domestic establishment, owed 
 her present immunity from the advances and attentions 
 of Mr, Blazes ' official character, at Washington. 
 
 It is asserted by those familiar with the affairs of the 
 locality treated in this story, that the ill odored and evil 
 organization, of which these pages must needs take 
 notice, in those days gradually became secretly mixed up 
 with general interests until, at last, there was scarcely a 
 concern that was not affected in some way by its subtle, 
 unscrupulous and fear inspiring schemes. In this state 
 of things, it is not a matter of surprise that politics 
 should have become involved with the doings of Black 
 Hank and his band of outlaws. 
 
 It has been no secret, thus far, that the sinister leader 
 of outlaws has presented, behind the veil, the morally de- 
 faced and distorted features of Jason Jump, the ruined 
 congressional claimant. So artful and successful had he 
 been in his identification with the outlaws, that none 
 other save Brad Simons knew the two roles — Jason Jump 
 and Black Hank — to be performed by one and the same 
 actor. 
 
 And the pity of it! No luminous and farreaching 
 fields of martial glory and of conquest, such as, in revolu- 
 tions of people against injustice, through all the mighty 
 ages of the past have blazoned the dazzling pages of the 
 world's history, cast their glamor and their light over 
 this darkened and miserable soul, or surrounded its pal- 
 try and sorrowful deeds with the acclaim of blaring 
 trumpets, of rolling drums or of shouting multitude. The 
 dense and callous age of greedy and of grasping com- 
 mercialism, where the clothman's narrow yard stick had 
 superseded the more brilliant romance of brave sentiment 
 and of daring and gallant chivalry, left nothing for the 
 
A POLITICAL VISITATION; KOBBERY. 121 
 
 unfortunate, however sadly deluded into whatever de- 
 plorable course of life, but the spectral and despairing 
 possibility of subsistence. Tiie strong arm of the law of 
 the new Western World only too surely held in check 
 all aim at the chimerical establishment of a change in 
 social system, by means of lav.less violence and rebellion 
 on such a plane of general revolt. It made Jason Jump 
 look small, like a breathless and exhausted bounty 
 jumper spent with flight; a poor and abandoned deserter 
 in a soiled and tattered uniform; a hopeless effigy of a 
 would be and undesirable hero, in a tortuous way across 
 the battlefield of human existence. 
 
 — Such, too, is as a crevasse in the vast levee which 
 holds in the mighty stream of humanity, — the little 
 thread of water that trickles over the dam, — the forerun- 
 ner of some vaster movement of the floods that will, un- 
 checked, yet sweep all before it. 
 
 Is it not better to repair the crevasse, before the en- 
 tire embankment is swept away? A few bags of unsel- 
 fishness will do it. 
 
 The town of T , where the political meeting call- 
 ing upon Mr. Blazes was to take place, on the day set for 
 the old fashioned barbecue began early to fill up \Wth 
 farmers from the adjoining farms. The miscellaneous 
 population of a country region swarmed everywhere. 
 The street fakir from abroad — who plied his arts, on the 
 corners, and sold his wonderful wares with a soap box 
 for a platform, and a tripod counter over which to dis- 
 pense his marvelous humbugs, and beguiled the unwary 
 into testing his nostrums and using his whetstones — 
 came out strongly and effectively. 
 
 Forsooth ! Bob Likkum, with Ann ^lariah at his side, 
 bought both whetstone and attractive bogus drugs; and, 
 afterwards, threw both — but, stay; that anticipates, too 
 soon, Likkum 's stirring adventure. There was to be an 
 
122 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ox roasted whole; and, the days of prohibition not hav- 
 ing stifled free indulgence, the American voter did not 
 criticise the flood of liquid inspiration with which the 
 feast would eventually be washed do^-n. It was a jolly 
 enough crowd, in all conscience, for an oldtime, hilari- 
 ous, roistering campaign gathering. 
 
 Zach Stoner, the county sheriff, and West Flank, 
 Uncle Peter Braddock and a tailing off of old friends and 
 neighbors, when the time for the political speeches and 
 addresses had arrived, bore down upon the grounds 
 where the "speakin' " was to be. Mona Walker, vnth 
 Parson Woods acting as a species of escort, mixed mth 
 the crowd, and nodded gratefully to Jason Jump whom, 
 since the service rendered her and her mother, at Wash- 
 ington, she had scarcely seen. Jump gazed after her 
 trim, pretty figure wistfully. Some ill conditioned yokel, 
 in the motley throng, nudged a comrade near him, as 
 the school teacher went by, and made a remark far too 
 strongly colored with the grosser terms of admiration of 
 the sex. Here, Bob Likkura demonstrated the uses to 
 which both medicines and whetstones might be profitably 
 put. 
 
 "What 'd you say?" said Bob, stopping abruptly in 
 front of the utterer of the derogatory speech. 
 
 ' ' You — ' ' and the man finished his reply to Likkum 's 
 inquiry with a stream of unrepeatable language. 
 
 "I guess you kin take this medicine fer yer morals," 
 composedly returned Likkum, " an ' whet yer blunted un- 
 derstandin' weth this here whetstun','' and the aston- 
 ished and reprimanded blackguard, without warning of 
 what was coming, caught both bottle and stone squarely 
 in the face. "You smart Alecs," concluded Bob, " '11 
 leave our teachers an' wimmen alone." 
 
 Sheriff Stoner grabbed the unruly spirit M'ho had 
 provoked Likkum 's assault; and Bob, whose influence 
 
A POLITICAL VISITATION; ROBBERY. 123 
 
 politically and otherwise was considerable, moved on un- 
 molested, leaving the defeated rowdy to summary eject- 
 ment from the grounds. 
 
 Esau wandered up to an oldtime blackleg who, with a 
 shell pea outfit, had suddenly inspired the fat boy with a 
 hope and prospect of realizing unlimited wealth. 
 
 "You kum away frum there," said Likkum who 
 seemed to be everywhere, trying to rescue all and every- 
 body from the injustice of their kind. Bob took Esau 
 by the arm, led the boy away and explained to him the 
 trap he had rescued him from. 
 
 We must, however, no longer be deprived of the vital 
 salvation waiting in the real functions of this occasion. 
 Let the roasted ox be eaten ; the good drink be drunk ; 
 fakirs fake in the good, old way ; lovers love, in the same 
 — and all the rest of it. Bob, we do not think, for a 
 moment, of course, might save all ! Oh, no. And, so a 
 congressman — an unselfish politician and savior of his 
 country — an illuminating political master and orator 
 must come to the front — must fill the breach. He comes 
 —he fills it. 
 
 Swarth Blazes ascends the speaker's platform. There 
 is a hush. 
 
 He begins by telling a mighty multitude of thirsting, 
 and eager hearers what he feels, in his appreciation of 
 the solemn responsibility under which he rests to rescue 
 them. It is well that they have tried and trusted leaders 
 to appeal to — to listen to. The mission of those leaders 
 is to save the people. It is, indeed, greatly needed that 
 the people be saved, and that the member of congress 
 save them. He must tell his hearers of the beauties of 
 their country — as managed by himself; of the fair land 
 of liberty — he performing the office of liberator; of the 
 wonders of perfection and the blessings they enjoy — in 
 his manufacture and brand, and of the loss, the incon- 
 
124 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ceivable and irreparable loss, they would sustain should 
 they but dream, for a moment, of putting the freedom 
 factory into any other hands than his or possibly those 
 of a few lesser great men. 
 
 William White was much impressed with the sincer- 
 ity and undoubted applicability of the political utter- 
 ances of the impassioned and eloquent orator. He turned 
 to De, whose companionship he had secured for the day 
 in spite of the growing objections of Uncle Peter Brad- 
 dock to a visionary and unknown writer as a possible 
 son in law. 
 
 ' ' The country is surely rescued, by our present social 
 and political system," he drily exclaimed to his intelli- 
 gent and comely companion, ' ' from utter destruction and 
 
 rum 
 
 I" 
 
 De smiled in sympathetic encouragement of one in 
 whof n she, at least, had no lack of faith. 
 
 Swarth Blazes, in the foregoing, had gotten warmed 
 up to the righteousness of his cause. He was outraged at 
 the bare and insupportable thought of any committing 
 the unpardonable offense of offering to transfer the gov- 
 ernment to other keeping. He — his jaw fell — yes, he 
 could not utter a word. He stared. Standing before 
 him, not ten feet away, his pale, set face graven in the 
 crowd and his glittering, cold, mocking steel gray eye 
 fixing the speaker's hypocritical and paralyzed counte- 
 nance, was — Jason Jump ! Mr. Blazes ' conclusion, that 
 day, of his efforts to save his people, his native land, 
 from the grasping powers of adverse and opposing un- 
 holiness is said to have been marked by fits and starts — 
 mostly fits. The orator was observed to seek refuge, as 
 from some haunting presence in the crowd; the throng 
 would sway and open, — there again stood Jason Jump 
 when, by shifting his own position, the declaimer thought 
 he had found a portion of his audience unaffected by an 
 
A POLITICAL VISITATION; ROBBERY. 125 
 
 influence antagonistic to his unselfish flights. lie tried, 
 once more. Like a dreadful specter, the man, whom this 
 political mountebank had ruined, met the latter 's sight. 
 The speaker wiped the perspiration from his streaming 
 face with his handkerchief ; whispered to someone sitting 
 near on the stand; stammered something to the crowd 
 about feeling unwell, and — sat down. All enthusiasm 
 and interest ceased as if it had never been. A pale, hard 
 face left Mr. Blazes sitting there, forced its way through 
 the throng and Jason Jump disappeared on the out- 
 skirts. The speaking was over. 
 
 William White watched the climax of the meeting 
 which was brought to an end by the announcement from 
 the stand of the sudden and unexpected indisposition of 
 Mr. Blazes. He turned and looked after Jump's van- 
 ishing form. 
 
 "What," thought White, while something restrained 
 him from giving utterance, to De Braddock, of his silent 
 and absorbed speculations, "can it mean?" 
 
 ' ' How are you feeling by this time, Mr. Blazes ? " in- 
 quired a member of the committee to receive the hope of 
 nations, after the hope had been conveyed, in a carriage, 
 to the hotel, in the office of which he now sat. 
 
 ' ' Only a passing f aintness ; I am all right. ' ' 
 
 * ' You were asking about Mr. Simons, I believe ? ' ' po- 
 litely and incidentally observed the committeeman. 
 
 "I was," replied the visiting statesman. "Merely a 
 matter of a cattle sale — I understand, he expects to see 
 me before I leave town — a payment of some money due 
 me on the transaction. Hah ! he took a thousand dollar 
 bunch." Blazes rubbed his hands together, and smiled 
 with considerable satisfaction. 
 
 Jason Jump, sitting unseen behind a half open door, 
 listened and was silent. 
 
 "There's your man, then," said the committee mem- 
 
126 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ber, catching sight of an approaching figure ; and, turn- 
 ing, Blazes could see Brad Simons headed their way. 
 
 "Now," remarked Swartli Blazes when payment 
 had been made to him, by Simons, in cash (which the 
 purchaser happened to have been just paid by a crank 
 averse to institutions of deposit that robbed their de- 
 positors, and who kept all his money in a trunk), "you 
 have a good bank, here ? ' ' 
 
 "Our bank," rejoined Simons, "is all right." 
 
 "I -sdll deposit this, while I'm away for a few days 
 in the country," said Mr. Blazes. 
 
 "And after I take care of it for you, as is the duty 
 of a friend," Mr. Jump silently and in great good 
 humor communed with himself, as he continued to sit 
 unseen behind the door, "I am going to elect my own 
 member of congress." 
 
 The shadows were falling upon them that had raised 
 the phantoms before the vision of the man, in the star- 
 light, on the bridge, at Washington. Retribution was 
 descending upon us who had conjured up the ill and ab- 
 horrent shapes. 
 
 A one horse chaise went by, in the dark. It was get- 
 ting well along toward midnight. The country road was 
 deserted and lonely, and the single occupant of the ve- 
 hicle had been detained, by sickness, beyond the earlier 
 hours of sleep prevailing in the primitive locality in 
 which he ministered comfort and consolation to the sick 
 and dying; for it was Parson Woods who drove his old 
 sorrel when his fancy, which was rarely the case, did 
 not impel him to ride the same. On this night, he jogged 
 along in the chaise, giving little heed to the road and 
 letting his mind wander at will among the thoughts 
 awakened by his recent glimpse of the "dark river," his 
 call having been to the bedside of one nearing the end 
 
A POLITICAL VISITATION; ROBBERY. 127 
 
 of the present earthly way. As he left the country high- 
 way and entered the town of T , where he would stay 
 
 for the night, he was struck, in an unusual degree, by 
 the brooding silence of the place. The streets were ten- 
 antless and the shadows lay heavy beneath the trees lin- 
 ing his course. lie could not account for a chilly thrill 
 which passed over him, as he came within sight of the 
 old building opposite the tavern, which served to house 
 the only bank of the limited community. At the tav- 
 ern, Woods drew up and got out of his vehicle. As he 
 did so, a voice at his side softly exclaimed: 
 
 "Jest in time, parson. Yer a most accommodatin' 
 man, an' '11 lend us yer shay, I know." 
 
 Woods turned quickly on the speaker, wondering 
 where the latter could have been to have escaped obser- 
 vation, and found himself confronted by two masked 
 men. 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded the parson, in 
 momentary alarm. 
 
 "Not quite so loud," cautioned the one who had 
 opened the agreeable negotiations with the minister for 
 the use of the preacher's conveyance; "not quite so 
 loud, parson, er we might hev' to do somep'n' we mout 
 be sorry for," and the soft spoken adviser displayed the 
 menacing barrel of a pistol before the fascinated clerical 
 gaze, effectually arresting the poor pastor in any further 
 idea he might have had of making a lawful outcry. 
 "Now then, lookee here, ef ye open yer mouth," said the 
 man with the weapon, dropping his softer tones of 
 speech and delivering himself in an intense hissing 
 
 threat, " I '11 blow yer d d head off ! Here, Hen, fix 
 
 'im out ; an ' wait f er me, ' ' and, while the ready Hen 
 bound and gagged the unlucky man of the gospel, the 
 other ruffian first enforced obedience, on the part of 
 Parson Woods ; when, replacing his pistol in his pocket 
 
128 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 and directing the depositing of Woods on the covered 
 porch of the inn, he crossed the street to the bank which 
 seemed to be the object of his designs. The miscreant, 
 who had bound and otherwise secured the o\^aier of the 
 vehicle, apparently knew the part he had to play; for 
 he remained behind, sharing his attention between the 
 captive and a close watch upon the street. 
 
 There was a passing horseman — a belated farmer, 
 and the outlaw at the tavern drew close to the bound 
 man on the porch. The horseman passed on; and the 
 speechless and unhappy parson was forced to listen to 
 the hoofbeats die gradually away in the distance. He 
 strove desperately, but without avail, to free himself 
 from his bonds. 
 
 It had now long since passed the hour of midnight. 
 
 The ruffian left to guard the man of religion, as well 
 as to watch the vicinity Anthout the little bank building, 
 remained vigilantly in the shadows of the trees that 
 lined the walk. There had apparently been little risk, 
 thus far, in the attempt upon the crude and primitive 
 institution of finance as, doubtless. Black Hank had an- 
 ticipated there would be. The night watchman for the 
 bank, of a wayward and unreliable disposition at best, 
 sometimes staid around and sometimes did not ; and this 
 time did not. The outlaws had seen to it that he did 
 not. There was no sound — nothing stirred; and pres- 
 ently, from the insecure and common structure supply- 
 ing quarters for a place to transact financial business 
 in that early settlement of farmers and commerce, came 
 Black Hank bringing a heavy box. With difficulty he 
 succeeded in conveying his burden to the preacher's 
 chaise across the way where Hen, the freebooter's lieu- 
 tenant, waited in watchful guardianship of the street 
 and the captured owner of the conveyance. The two 
 
A POLITICAL VISITATION; ROBBERY. 129 
 
 placed the case in the minister's vehicle and sprang in 
 beside it. 
 
 Woods, lying gagged and otherwise disabled where 
 the robbers had cast him in the shadows of the tavern 
 porch, had not been idle, but, with the faith that was in 
 him and a deep and silent prayer upon his lips to the 
 Master Whom he served, had, at last, contrived to loosen 
 his bonds; and, as the midnight marauders started to 
 whip up the old sorrel into a pace beseeming the neces- 
 sities of flight, succeeded in displacing the gag prevent- 
 ing speech. As the whip struck the flank of his patient 
 and faithful animal, the man of God let out a cry of 
 warning and alarm that sounded upon the still silence 
 of the night like the crack of doom. With a curse Black 
 Hank whipped up the sorrel. Like his master and owner, 
 the old horse, upon occasion, had spirit and dashed into 
 the middle of the road. Parson Woods, by this time 
 free of his fetters, was on his feet; and, in deafening 
 tones mixed, it is hinted, with the most picturesque and 
 unorthodox profanity, w^as wildly shouting after the 
 rapidly moving conveyance, as he pursued it at high 
 speed and hatless down the middle of the street. One of 
 the escaping outlaws turned and fired, happily without 
 effect. The sounds, the shot and confusion aroused and 
 brought upon the scene of action and excitement the one 
 constable of the town, who issued hastily from a remote 
 and doubtful retirement. Drawing an ancient Colts re- 
 volver from his pocket, he incontinently banged away, 
 the explosion bursting upon the rural region like a bom- 
 bardment of Gibraltar. It is not known whether the 
 energetic officer mistook the flying figure of Parson 
 Woods for an unlawful disturber of the peace, or not — 
 no one was hurt, and Swarth Blazes' thousand dollars 
 was gone. 
 
 The silence of far advanced night lay upon rock and 
 
130 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 tree and briar tangled ■«dlds. Now and again could be 
 heard the sharp crackling of underbrush as the rustling 
 form of a night prowling animal broke the stillness. A 
 whippoorwill called somewhere in the wood, and another 
 seemed to answer. Presently, a crunching over the rocks 
 and a smothered curse at the brambles told of the ap- 
 proach of human feet. At the same instant, a figure, 
 seeming to start up out of the base of the solid rock, be- 
 came vaguely outlined against a stony cliff near where 
 the sounds were approaching. Once more, from the 
 lips of this apparition sounded the call of the whippoor- 
 will. An answering note came from the region where 
 still crunching and cursing, the other night's visitant or 
 visitants labored in progress through the bushes. The 
 latter parted, and out upon an open space in front of the 
 cliff came two men bearing between them a hea\'y box. 
 The shadowy form — that of a man — first seen, now came 
 forward. 
 
 "You got it, all right and proper, didn't you? Dang 
 it, Hank, but you're a good one, and that's no mistake, 
 neither," gruffly essayed the lookout, in a manner of 
 congratulation. 
 
 "They'll want these here see-curities a7id coin at 
 ther bank in the mornin', an' they won't get 'em," — the 
 box had been deposited, for a breathing spell, upon the 
 ground; and the low tones in which Hank's reply was 
 made were supplemented, through the speaker's great 
 black beard, by a laugh conveying much facetious and 
 satirical humor. The bank robber wiped the perspira- 
 tion from his face wdth a soiled and much used handker- 
 chief, which he drew from his pocket -with a flourish. 
 
 "Have any trouble?" asked the outlaw lookout. 
 
 "No — 't's only an' ol' shell ter git into. Jes' 
 walked right in, same 's if I drawed my little old check ; 
 got th' stuff, an' here 'tis.— How's th' old gal?" 
 
A POLITICAL VISITATION; ROBBERY. 131 
 
 "Looney, 'sfar 'si kin see," replied the robber's in- 
 formant indifferently. "Better git thet swag hid away, 
 hedn't ye?" he added. 
 
 Thus cautioned, the booty was lifted from the ground 
 and the robbers vanished amidst the rocks and bushes. 
 
 The countryside, the following morning, rang with 
 
 the robbery of the T bank. That institution of 
 
 finance had been stripped of its cash and its securities, 
 and was forced to go to the wall. There was a panic 
 
 among the depositors; and T was wrought up to a 
 
 frenzy of excitement. The entire municipal police force 
 consisting of the constable and an unassuming tin star, 
 and reinforced by two idle young men who loafed about 
 the saloons, made dashing and courageous raids upon 
 the outlying country, but nothing was discovered. The 
 guardians of the peace would again return to the popu- 
 lation of the distracted town; receive graciously, if se- 
 cretly, numerous refreshing "bracers" from the grate- 
 ful populace bent on showing its appreciation of the cus- 
 todians of their law, and, wiping the police mouth with 
 the back of the police hand, the raiders would again fare 
 forth after the violators of the community. But this 
 could not continue for always. Evening came, and the 
 seekers for the perpetrators of the robbery were com- 
 pelled to point to the tin star with a sad and melancholy 
 admission of its failure. Sic transit gloria mundi. 
 
 Thus, in the uncertainty of human affairs, the little 
 fortunes of the frugal locality were swept away; and 
 William White, a depositor in the local bank, saw him- 
 self practically penniless. A small property, off which 
 he had contrived to subsist, had been waiting for some 
 savings to amount to enough to pay off its mortgage; 
 and White foresaw the loss of his main support in the 
 robbery of the bank, and in the consequent disappear- 
 ance of his little accumulation. There were, likewise, 
 
132 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 securities and valuable papers taken ; and the growing 
 though still undeveloped community experienced a shock 
 that was destined to be felt in many ways. Brad Simons 
 was a limited sufferer ; but more especially was his house- 
 keeper Mona Walker affected by the misfortunes of the 
 bank, and in a way, too, that would add very materially 
 to ]\Ir. Simons' defeat and overthrow. 
 
 White accepted, -without complaint, the issue that 
 fate had thrust upon him ; and none ever heard him 
 allude to the matter of the bank robbery in any lasting 
 or unhappy terms of discontent or diminished faith in 
 the objects of the future. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SHADOWS CROSS THE SUN. 
 
 William White, let it be remembered, has boon char- 
 acteristically described by Bob Likkum as a " 'roses- 
 red,-violets-blue,-sugar 's-s weet,-and-so-are-you ' poet-and- 
 writer-chap. " Likkum only shared that peculiar prej- 
 udice in regard to White, which practical communities, 
 in those days, entertained for budding literary genius, 
 the world over. White had been made shy by the doubt 
 which the farm region had in general seen fit to bestow 
 upon his unobtrusive talents. It was only upon particu- 
 lar occasions, — as that, for instance, of an eclipse of the 
 sun, — that the literary man felt the presence of a strang- 
 er occurrence, than even that attending his own lit- 
 erary performances, would permit him to move about 
 in the view of men and women with something like com- 
 fort. So, on the afternoon of the eclipse, when Bob Lik- 
 kum had brought Martha Braddock her letter from 
 John, the outclass visited De. 
 
 It is needless to say that De herself did not view 
 William's accomplishments with the doubtful scrutiny 
 bestowed upon them by an unappreciative neighborhood. 
 On the contrary, her estimate of the young writer's abil- 
 ities went to an extreme of exalted admiration. When, 
 this afternoon, William reached the gate, the maid blush- 
 ing and prompted by the friendly and amiable Bob Lik- 
 kum came from the house with eager welcome. 
 
 William White was of the blonde type. His hair 
 curled closely about a finely shaped head, giving a 
 
 133 
 
134 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 classical effect to an intelligent face. He had been an 
 athlete at college and, though not of a large frame, was 
 endowed with graceful proportions and great reserve 
 physical strength. 
 
 White's sweetheart had discontentedly borne in 
 mind, with cherished seriousness and exaggerated im- 
 portance, — a result of all lover's fondly biased estimate 
 of "love's young dream," — the unfulfilled appointment 
 made at the schoolhouse to come and see her on the 
 previous evening, when the writer's forcible restraint, 
 by his lawless abductors, had prevented his coming. She 
 looked chidingly at her lover. 
 
 "Your engagements with the "\ndow — ]\Irs. Walm- 
 sey," observed Miss Braddock with an immense pre- 
 tense of offense, "must consume most of your time. 
 Why did you not come to see me, last evening ? ' ' 
 
 White felt it would serve no useful purpose to recite 
 to De the adventure with the freebooters; and he was 
 left but avv^kward ability to clear himself. However, he 
 laughed away the pretty though aft'ected imputation of 
 jealous distrust of him with the M'idow, and said in a 
 manner of great earnestness, 
 
 "De, life and death were in the occasion that took 
 me elsewhere than to you, last night." 
 
 "Why! William, — why, what on earth — ?" his com- 
 panion started to exclaim. 
 
 When William Wliite interrupted her with, 
 
 "Do not ask me more." 
 
 De Braddock glanced quickly up into the grave, 
 serious face of the man at her side, and "was silent. 
 
 "Have you brought your smoked glass?" she asked 
 presently. "I suppose you are prepared," De went on, 
 "to view the eclipse?" 
 
 "I wish all eclipses," observed William White fixing 
 his gaze, with a quizzical manner, upon the other's face, 
 
SHADOWS CROSS TflE SUN. 135 
 
 "would confine themselves to the sun and not embrace 
 my hopes." 
 
 "Have your hopes lately suffered an eclipse, Will- 
 iam?" demurely and a tritle consciously questioned the 
 girl. "The publishers — " 
 
 " It is not a matter of the publishers ; you know, very 
 well, where my eclipse — you know," quaintly retorted 
 the young man, "the quarter of my heaven that is in 
 lasting and perpetual shadow," which remark accom- 
 panied by an unmistakably soft glance into the eyes 
 before him needed no further or more satisfying ex- 
 planation. 
 
 "You're a silly goose," retorted De, turning away 
 with heightened color and fluttering heart, — "you and 
 your eclipse. Parson Woods and Bob — Bob Likkum — 
 are inside; come in, William, be a good boy, and," look- 
 ing shyly at her lover over her shoulder, "leave eclipses 
 to people that study science, ' ' which, as we all very well 
 know, meant, "please renew discussion of your ravish- 
 ing eclipse as soon as possible, if not sooner!" 
 
 De had entered the house and William White was 
 about to follow, when the latter 's attention was arrested 
 by noises in the road. White paused a moment at the 
 door. Some men were coming on, from the north, with 
 a drove of cattle. 
 
 White, left alone, remained a moment on the porch. 
 Presently, as the objects in the road drew nearer, the 
 writer half aloud remarked, 
 
 "Simons' bunch. He's well off, too," continude the 
 soliloquizer, "and I have nothing. He's driving, to- 
 day," added the solitary man fixing his eyes upon the 
 form of a horseman who, attended by two or three rough 
 looking fellows, likewise on horseback, brought up the 
 rear of the advancing drove. The silent figure on the 
 porch watched one after another of the cattle pass, until 
 
136 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 all had gone by in a cloud of dust, when the drovers 
 themselves came abreast of the farmhouse. 
 
 "Bill," called Brad Simons addressing an assistant, 
 as the leader and his drovers came straggling opposite 
 the house, "you and Joe drive them on; I'll overtake 
 you. Good afternoon," Simons hailed White. "Prob- 
 ably, you have not observed," called the former, "that 
 the eclipse has commenced?" and the o\\Tier of the cat- 
 tle indicated, by a gesture with his riding whip in the 
 direction of the sun, the meaning of his speech. 
 
 The literary man's reflections had prevented his 
 realizing the first stages of the interesting event of the 
 day. He looked toward the sun ; he raised a small piece 
 of smoked glass, which he carried in his hand, to his 
 eye ; sure enough, a narrow line of discoloration was al- 
 ready seen across the outer edge of the glowing disk 
 above. 
 
 "So I see," returned the writer; and wheeling and 
 raising his voice he called, 
 
 "De, — Miss De, you and your mother and the others 
 come out — the eclipse has begun." 
 
 William White's announcement brought forth the 
 occupants of the house; and the group proceeded into 
 the yard, where the party consisting of Parson Woods, 
 Bob Likkum, De, Mother Braddock and White took posi- 
 tions to view the heavens through their pieces of smoked 
 glass. 
 
 Brad Simons, having gotten designingly and sinis- 
 terly thus far and having seen his cattle go on ahead 
 under the direction of his drovers, deemed it evilly ad- 
 visable to go farther; and now dismounted and, tying 
 his horse to the hitch rail by the side of William Wliite 's 
 animal, entered Peter Braddock 's dooryard and joined 
 the party of observers of the strange and singular hap- 
 pening going on overhead. 
 
SHADOWS CROSS THE SUN. 137 
 
 "Simons," said Parson Woods, as the former came 
 into the yard — the parson continuing, with head thrown 
 back, to scan the heavens through his dimmed glass, 
 and speaking without change of position, — "a very won- 
 derful and sublime event. — Shipping cattle?" 
 
 "Very, indeed, parson," rejoined the cattleman, 
 with his own eyes fixed upon Martha Braddock's pretty 
 daughter. "Shipping cattle or the eclipse, wonderful, 
 parson? Both create enough confusion and commotion. 
 Yes, I 've been getting a few head together. I '11 need the 
 sales. The robbery of the bank has affected us all a lit- 
 tle; although, fortunately for me, my balance happened, 
 at the time, to be small." 
 
 "I wuz jus' tellin' paw," said Mrs. Braddock, "'at 
 I wuz glad enough we didn't have nothin' in it." 
 
 "In the bank?" rejoined Simons gazing at De Brad- 
 dock. "Oh, yes," he turned back to Martha Braddock; 
 "the robbers got some cash and papers of mine, as well 
 as valuable papers belonging to Miss Walker, my house- 
 keeper. ' ' 
 
 "Pike Plummer got pretty hard hit," said Likkum. 
 
 "Ye'd better look out fur them outlaws, I tell ye," 
 enjoined Mrs. Braddock, scanning Simons, De and then 
 the heavens. 
 
 "I had hard enough time finding my shay and old 
 sorrel," said Parson Woods ruefully. He looked at 
 Brad Simons and back at the sky. 
 
 Simons turned to De. 
 
 "Good afternoon, Miss Braddock; are you eclipsing 
 the sun?" 
 
 "Oh, jokes on the eclipse are getting so old, Mr. 
 Simons," retorted De with a regretful and maybe re- 
 proachful look at William White, who had failed to 
 renew his scientific discussion, "that, really, you must 
 give us a little rest on them." She gave a pretty toss 
 
138 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 of the head and, in common with the others, continued 
 t« view that farreaching and infinite space so dwarfing 
 into insignificance the petty strifes and heartbreaks of 
 humanity as to cause wonder how we grieve or fret or 
 worry about anything in Life's Great Story! 
 
 "This ee-clipse," said Bob Likkum after a spell of 
 silence, on the part of all, — the speaker, vnth the others, 
 still viewing the lofty dome on high, — "seems sorter to 
 me like uh man without uli home, er one o' them 'air 
 new f angled ditchin' macheens: it's out o' all calk'la- 
 tion. I 'member, ' ' went on Bob reminiscently, the party 
 of observers straining their necks, if not their visions, 
 at the dark shadows creeping slowly across the face of 
 the sun, "a-hearin' ol' Cy San'ders, 'at went away to 
 seek his fortin' out west, say ez how he'd ruther not live 
 at home, er at all, than be without riches. Now then," 
 added Likkum, "I'm a homebuddy myse'f, I am, an' I 
 can't see how's any man kin be indiffrunt to that 'air 
 state uv perfeck blessedness." 
 
 Very little attention was paid, by those assembled 
 in Farmer Braddock's dooryard, to this piece of quaint 
 domestic wisdom from the country sage and humorist 
 Robert Likkum. Brad Simons, however, proved an ex- 
 ception. He was not so intently engrossed in the sub- 
 limity of the heavens as he was occupied in viewing — if 
 we may use the phrase — that earthly star De Braddock; 
 and was inspired to render tribute to Mr. Likkum 's wise 
 and tender observation. With his gaze fastened upon 
 De's uplifted features, he earnestly exclaimed: 
 
 "Right, Likkum, right; the state of no man is per- 
 fect or complete without a home or," added the cattle- 
 man, with an increased depth of emphasis, and his eyes 
 devouring De's face, "without a wife to make it beau- 
 tiful," a sentiment of enough merit to have graced even 
 
SHADOWS CROSS THE SUN. 139 
 
 worthier lips than those of the designing man utter- 
 ing it. 
 
 "You don't say so," said Bob Likkum. 
 
 De Braddock was conscious of this last utterance, 
 on the part of Brad Simons, whether or not Bob Lik- 
 kum 's sincerer first speech had reached her ears. The 
 girl was embarrassed ; and made uneasy efforts to throw 
 off the effect of Simons ' words. 
 
 "Wonder," surmised Mother Braddock watching the 
 sky, "ef Peter an' them ban's sees this meeraculous 
 f eenomynum ? ' ' 
 
 "Wall," observed Likkum drily, "possibul; ez the 
 sky don't come to an eend this side uv Indyanop 'lus. " 
 
 "My neck's near broken, I know that," finally an- 
 nounced Parson Woods, as he lowered his gaze, letting 
 his eyesight appreciate a kind of yello%\'ish, subdued and 
 ghostly light stealing over the face of the neighboring 
 woods and adjacent fields. 
 
 "De, child," chimed in Mrs. Braddock lowering her 
 glass and rubbing the back of her neck, "the parson's 
 right, — you'll jes' simply break the back uv yer neck, ef 
 you hold it in that 'air position much longer," and, 
 after the manner of sheep that follow their leader over 
 the stile, one after another of the viewers of the slowly 
 darkening heavens lowered their bits of smoked glass. 
 
 William Wliite was watching Brad Simons and De 
 Braddock. The power of money! Simons was rich; 
 William was poor. "Surely," again thought White, 
 "De must prefer Simons to himself." 
 
 And the shadows were crossing the sun. 
 
 Bob Likkum standing with William White, and as if 
 reading the latter 's thoughts, put in : 
 
 "I calk 'late, Billy, I wouldn't let any 'tarnal fish 
 like Brad Simons snake my gal off," — Bob was regard- 
 ing, with a careful, reserved and distant air, the actions 
 
140 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 of Brad Simons with De Braddock. Likkum might not 
 have approved of White's vocation; but he certainly 
 preferred the writer personally to the cattleman. 
 
 ''What can I do, Bob? I'm poor," rejoined White. 
 
 "Poor, fiddlesticks!" retorted Bob with infinite con- 
 tempt, not giving the writer a chance to speak further. 
 "I'd give dollars fer you," continued Likkum, "where 
 I wouldn't give nothin' fur that slink, Simons." 
 
 "Thank you. Bob," said White humbly. 
 
 "Hem — ahem!" coughed Bob, conscious of having 
 praised the popularly ostracized literary "Billy White," 
 and yet too just and too gentlemanly to qualify his opin- 
 ion. "See here," proceeded the rustic philosopher wdtU 
 emphasis, "humility's all right, an' it's my principle — 
 it'll cure 'bout nigh all the troubles in the world — but 
 ye don't want to overdo it. Don't be too backward er 
 too for'ard 's my way. Ye 're honest; an' it's more n' 
 Brad is, I doubt. And," said Likkum, glad of an op- 
 portunity to say something that would "stand," 
 "there's yer one arm, too. Ye went and fit. Did 
 Simons? Nary, he didn't. Had a substitute there," 
 and Likkum swept his arm southward where might still 
 be fancied the rolling dunny smoke of war, signifying, 
 by his words and action, the fact of Simons having 
 fought by proxy in the then late rebellion. 
 
 William White had made a good soldier; and re- 
 mained silent under a fit sense of credit in this respect 
 of a record in the army. 
 
 "Besides," concluded Bob conscientiously if some- 
 what doubtfully sealing a final preference for White, 
 "Brad's nothin', nohow." 
 
 The literary man stood, for an instant, pondering 
 with his eyes turned toward Simons. Brad seemed to 
 become conscious of White 's gaze ; he laughed and ut- 
 tered a remark in a low tone to De Braddock standing 
 
SHADOWS CROSS THE SUN. 141 
 
 a little distance off, with her attention fixed on William 
 White, constrainedly by side of Brad Simons. The girl, 
 apparently offended, flushed and made a movement to 
 draw back from the forward cattleman. There was evi- 
 dently a hasty apology from Simons. 
 
 Parson Woods ' solemn voice was heard : 
 
 " 'The heavens declare the glory of God, and the 
 firmament showeth His handiwork.' " 
 
 Like a flash, coming from no quarter of which any 
 present had previously been aware, there appeared in 
 the midst of the gathering the weird, uncanny form of 
 a woman, who threw her long, thin arms above her head, 
 her claw like fingers clutching and unelutching in the 
 air and pointing at the vanishing sun. She was between 
 forty and fifty years of age ; and of the meager, drawn 
 features of those whose minds are flighty and diseased. 
 She wore a coarse, drab, homespun garment that hung 
 loosely about her tall, gaunt figure. 
 
 As the wild form of the woman glided in among the 
 others, her arms and fingers extended, her hand un- 
 consciously struck, as it brushed past Bob Likkum, 
 against the latter 's uplifted grasp containing a frag- 
 ment of smoked glass, causing the last object to fall to 
 the ground. 
 
 "Let it lay — let it lay," cried the demented crea- 
 ture; — "it sp'iled the sunlight fur my Nancy; — let it 
 lay; — but find him, — he hides the sun; — let it lay." 
 
 Bob Likkum stooped and picked up the piece of 
 discolored glass, and stood with it idly in his hand; De's 
 mother shrank to the side of her daughter; White re- 
 mained a silent spectator; Parson Woods made a move- 
 ment to pacify the crazed being, and Brad Simons took 
 a step in her direction. 
 
 "It's Rachel Bolers. There's no harm in her," said 
 Simons breaking the spell. "Rachel," continued Brad, 
 
142 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 drawing nearer to the woman, "come, come, you must 
 not stay here." 
 
 "Who says I can't stay?" shrilly exclaimed the 
 woman, — ' ' who says it ? I want the man 'at blasted my 
 Nanny's life and her mother's, — me and my Nanny. 
 You ain't him, air ye?" suddenly queried she, breaking 
 off in her impassioned strain and gazing into the face of 
 Brad Simons; "fur ef ye ^vuz, I'd kill ye," and the dis- 
 tracted woman, singularly calm now, looked like some 
 dread spirit of judgment. 
 
 "No, no," exclaimed Simons, in what appeared to 
 be unnecessary haste stepping back; "of course, not. 
 I know nothing of your daughter Nancy's affairs, Mrs. 
 Bolers." 
 
 "Nothing — nothing," echoed Rachel Bolers. Her 
 paroxysm of a moment since was gone, and her voice 
 took on a low, moaning sound. "Someone knows. I'll 
 find him. When I do, I'll be his judgment," and the 
 speaker, here, trailed off into an unintelligible, wailing 
 kind of insane gibberish. 
 
 " Oh ! do send her away, ' ' cried Mother Braddock, 
 to w^hom, as to all the inhabitants of that region, the 
 harmless person of Rachel Bolers was familiar. Mother 
 Braddock had her own special dislike and prejudice for 
 one who, like Rachel, was a suggestion — particularly a 
 crazed one — of the subject so distasteful at best to the 
 worthy wife of Peter Braddock, — the subject of her 
 son's marriage to Nance Bolers, Rachel's daughter. 
 
 Brad Simons, who had appeared abashed and in an 
 unaccountable manner silenced by Rachel Bolers' ques- 
 tion concerning identity of his own with the abuser of 
 the confidence of the distracted woman's daughter, upon 
 Mrs. Braddock 's direct injunction to send Rachel away 
 advanced. 
 
 "Go," ordered the cattleman peremptorily. 
 
SHADOWS CROSS THE SUN. 143 
 
 The crazed woman appeared to have one of those 
 rare bursts of momentary intelligence which sometime 
 visit the mentally unbalanced. She did not speak for a 
 moment; and her keen glance, with not a wholly irra- 
 tional stare, searched Brad Simons' watchful face low- 
 ering darkly at hers. Straightening herself to her full 
 height, and, in a voice of piercing and thrilling tone and 
 force, she cried : 
 
 "You're him — you're th' man 'at stole my Nanny, 
 afore she married Johnny Braddock, ' ' and Rachel shook 
 her bony and emaciated hand in Simons' face. 
 
 The effect of this speech was electrical. Brad re- 
 coiled from the accusing woman's fierce and threatening 
 glance. In the unnatural dusk of the eclipse he grew 
 white and burning red by turns. Animated by just in- 
 dignation, as thought all but Bob Likkum, Brad Simons, 
 recovering, started forward. Then, recollecting him- 
 self, he faced the assembled company with the appear- 
 ance of a smile of good natured tolerance upon his 
 round, florid countenance, which changed, however, to 
 a look of hatred when he turned to the reputed mad 
 woman. 
 
 "Look," said Simons addressing himself to Rachel 
 Bolers, his face becoming hard, stern and set; "we've 
 had enough of this — be off. You're a public nuisance; 
 and, if you continue your tantrums about the country, 
 I'll have you placed where you may be restrained from 
 driving people beside themselves with your foolery." 
 
 "The man," muttered the woman, her gaze bent 
 upon the ground, — "but his name — I fiirgit," and the 
 subdued creature lifted a vacant and meaningless eye 
 to the attentive countenances about her. "Ah!" she 
 cried abruptly, raising her voice once more to the high, 
 weird pitch at which she had spoken on her first appear- 
 ance; "I know — I left him and his name in th(! wood 
 
144 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 by the river, — I'll go get 'em, I can't see the sun, when 
 he 's in front of it, ' ' and, with a movement as swift and 
 fleeting as that by which in the beginning she had 
 appeared, the mad thing was gone — around the house 
 and out through the fields to the woods and river 
 beyond, in the course whence she had as swiftly though 
 unnoted come. 
 
 There was a feeling of general relief upon her dis- 
 appearance, and Brad Simons removing his hat passed 
 his hand over his burning brow as though suffering from 
 the summer heat. 
 
 Bob Likkum never forgot this scene; and, from that 
 day, had his own opinion of Simons; but was forced to 
 keep it to himself in the face of the mental irresponsi- 
 bility of the only source of that opinion. 
 
 William White who, up to this time, had, in the state 
 of his failure to learn the mad woman's secret, main- 
 tained a discreet silence on the subject of his enforced 
 visit to the caverns in the hills, saw the spectral form of 
 Rachel Bolers disappear with a feeling of renewed fore- 
 boding for the future of his beloved, De Braddock, 
 which filled him with unrest. Still, too wise to give 
 voice to his apprehensions where no tangible reasons 
 could be assigned, the troubled writer continued silent. 
 All effort, on his part, to solve the riddle had, so far, 
 failed. 
 
 "John." said Brad Simons to De and Mother Brad- 
 dock, while all remained standing in the dooryard 
 following Rachel Bolers' departure, "certainly has 
 enough to bear, with both Nance's mother and the 
 brother to take care of ! " The speech was a cunning 
 one. Brad, in its delivery, already knew, through Tom 
 Bolers, of John's recent letter to his mother in Tom 
 Bolers' interest. 
 
 And Mother Braddock, remembering John's letter 
 
SHADOWS CROSS THE SUN. 145 
 
 bespeaking their friendly offices with Brad Simons on 
 behalf of Nance's brother, answered with a sigh and an 
 appealing look at Simons. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 And the sun in the heavens above fell under complete 
 shadow; and the dog whined, and Brad Simons, with a 
 look of coming power, fixed his gaze upon De. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 UNCLE PETEE BRADDOCK. 
 
 ""Well, mother, here be the men — hungry 'nuff t'eat 
 ye out o' house 'n home," was the observation of Peter 
 Braddoek, by the country people familiarly called 
 "Uncle Peter," when, as the harvest "hands," on the 
 evening of the day of the eclipse, passed on to the bam 
 with the horses, he came stumbling into the kitchen 
 where Mrs. Braddock was preparing supper. 
 
 "All right, Peter; right away," answered Mother, 
 bustling about. 
 
 Uncle Peter, thus satisfied, went on to the barn to 
 join his neighbors. 
 
 "De," called Mother Braddock looking around. De 
 was nowhere to be seen, "Where," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Braddock, "kin that child have went." 
 
 Mother Braddock had just lifted her head previously 
 bent over the frying pan on the stove. Her face was 
 flushed in the preparation of the evening meal. She 
 went to the door and looked out. 
 
 It was dusking a little in the west. The indescribable 
 influence of approaching evening was being felt. The 
 solemn hush imperceptibly creeping, in the natural clos- 
 ing hours of the day, over the surrounding fields and 
 landscape; the frogs awakening to the fact that it was 
 nearing time for the evening concert; the drowsy chirp 
 of the crickets; the birds welcoming the hour of nests 
 and rest, and uttering soft, low, loving chirpings of 
 "good night;" the chickens beginning to seek their 
 
 146 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 147 
 
 roosts in the trees ; the cattle impressed with the time of 
 stilly moments stealing away to the night's great high- 
 way, — everytliing was conspiring to take the load from 
 the back of day and transfer it to the waiting caravan 
 bound through those mysterious defiles of slumber, 
 darkness and day's surcease. 
 
 Sleep ! The tired mind, the weary soul, the loving 
 slave through hours and days and nights of waking — 
 sleep. careworn, sleep ; heartache, sleep. 
 dreamer, with your broken dreams and broken heart, 
 sleep, sleep. Upon the toiling day and far advanced 
 night of exhausted effort, toil and noble aspiration, drop 
 the balm of heaven 's healing slumber and oblivion ! 
 
 At the barn. Uncle Peter Braddock and the men were 
 chatting, joking and laughing while they put away the 
 horses for the night, after a day of harvest. 
 
 The barnyard, enjoying during the day the quietude 
 of absent farm life, now resounded with the nickers of 
 horses welcoming their evening meal, the stamping in 
 the stalls of horses' feet, and the sudden explosion of 
 boisterous and hearty laughter, when an unusually good 
 jest had been uttered, or where the ever present prac- 
 tical joker, creeping slyly up behind the unwatchful 
 countryman, unexpectedly tore away the rudely im- 
 provised seat of rough board supporting one end on a 
 log, sending the resting and tired harvester sprawling 
 upon the ground. Snatches of vocal country melody 
 primitively appealing to the unconventionally erotic, 
 and otherwise, were offered by the characteristic musical 
 genius of the locality, neighborhood and occasion, and 
 many and varied sounds of hilarious and strong, healthy 
 life, evidencing the men's arrival from the fields, greeted 
 the ear. 
 
 "Here, ye cub," shouted Uncle Peter, seeking the 
 attention of the fat and somewhat easy-moving Esau, 
 
148 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "where air ye? Them chickens wants tuh be looked 
 arter. Git around. Where air ye, anyway ? ' ' 
 
 Esau, the generously proportioned farm boy, was 
 spied, at this point, by Uncle Peter; and was seen to be 
 quite indifferently and contentedly enjoying a few 
 moments of natural relaxation, in social intercourse with 
 one of the farm "hands," who had paused at the wash 
 bench, in the farmer's dooryard, and was liberally 
 dousing his face in a tin wash basin of water. Promptly 
 and unfeelingly interrupting an intensely interesting 
 discussion of the latest doings of Black Hank's luridly 
 and dazzlingly picturesque aggregation of humane 
 social advantages — a conversation being animatedly 
 carried on by the ' ' hand ' ' and Esau — Peter yelled : 
 
 "Ye lazy, shiftless crittur, ye, git to them there 
 chickens, will ye ? Ye feed 'em — yet let 'em stray 'way, 
 ye do!" Peter was a little severe, but it was country 
 life. "Them Plymouth Rocks is darn nigh all bu'sted, 
 ovan' to ye, ye cub, an' them Leghorns hev' gone, with 
 them Cochin Chinies, on the'r legs to China, fur all I 
 know. ' ' 
 
 Esau grumbled some ; but knew better than to thwart 
 the old man, and wrenched himself from the fascina- 
 tions of discussing thieves and outlaws. He went about 
 his farm duties as directed. 
 
 "Peter," complained a neighbor — neighbors in those 
 days helped each other in their farm work and harvest- 
 ing, in return for like assistance. "I'm e'en a 'most 
 starved. ' ' 
 
 Peter Braddock, with cheerful inhumanity, ignored 
 this said plaint and merely remarked casually, as he 
 coolly abstracted a piece of harness from a horse he was 
 stripping for the night, 
 
 "Heerd, terday, 'at Brad— Brad Simons an' Tom 
 Boler uz got inter some kind uv trubble er other— 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK 149 
 
 Tom's b'en up to some uv 'is mischief, ag'in, I reckon. 
 
 The suffering harvester in somber silence responded 
 to his unappeased pangs of hunger, by kicking vig- 
 orously though ineffectually at a passing cockerel, as 
 though he might have harbored a cannibalistic desire of 
 dispatching the fowl and consuming it uncooked. 
 
 "Don't know nothin' about it. I say, Peter," 
 stoutly persisted the distressed subject, "I'm dyin' fer 
 food, I tell ye." 
 
 "I calk 'late," said Peter, continuing to bear a load 
 of responsibility for human life with unexampled com 
 posure, "'at they say John had a row weth Zcke 
 Smithin, t'other day — threatened ter kill the orn'ry 
 cuss, John did." 
 
 "Wouldn't hurt none, ef John blowed 'is dratted 
 head off — I'm nearly dead, ye ol' hayrake," retorted 
 the auditor, with vicious emphasis. 
 
 At this time, Uncle Peter Braddoek was as mach in 
 the dark as anyone concerning the "hold." which 
 those of that locality had come to perceive, in s]>ite of 
 an attempt made by John Braddoek to keep the forgery 
 quiet, that Brad Simons possessed of Tom Bolers, John- 
 Braddoek 's worthless brother in law. It must, also, be 
 understood that, up to this moment. Uncle Peter had 
 experienced no opportunity of learning the contents of 
 John's letter to his mother. Bej'-ond this letter, De's 
 brother had made no confidant of his faiiiily in these 
 whispered troubles in which Nano«'s brother was sup- 
 posed to take so prominent a part. And, so far as con- 
 cerned the mine that was surely forming under the 
 doomed farmer and his devoted house, it may be said 
 the old gentleman was mercifully unconscious. 
 
 And while the evening came down, Mother Braddoek 
 stood at the kitchen door and looked for De. Standing 
 and straining her gaze in the slowing gathering dark- 
 
150 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ness, Martha Braddock gave an exclamation of soiiie 
 wonder. 
 
 "Sakes alive! why that be her, the child's a-comin' 
 thro' the pastur'. Wonder now what, in blessed mem- 
 'ry! takes her out thar'? Wall, I'm blest!" said Mrs. 
 Braddock astutely, after a slight pause spent in discreet 
 communion with herself; "I jes' won't say nothin', 't 
 all, to Peter, 'cause gals will be gals, but if that little 
 minx ain't a-bin over there 'ith Billy Wliite. Yes, sir," 
 said Martha with positive emphasis, "that be his straw 
 hat clippin' past the woods, now. They jes' made it up, 
 I do b'lieve, I do," and communing thus with herself 
 Mother Braddock peered into the distance with in- 
 creased interest. 
 
 Whatever intimation "Billy" White may have con- 
 veyed to De Braddock concerning his subsequent inten- 
 tions, he had certainly beaten a hasty retreat from the 
 premises of Peter Braddock in anticipation of the arriv- 
 al of the farmer and his following of rustic critics from 
 the harvest field; and had transferred the scene of his 
 operations to the banks of the neighboring river, wJiere 
 a stretch of wood streaked the last gleams of the even- 
 ing sky. 
 
 ' ' Vow ! I seen his straw hat. Now, what 's she bin up 
 to, wonder," said Mother Braddock below her breath. 
 "Wisht Peter an' them pesky folks 'd stop makin' fun 
 o' Billy an' his his po'try and writin'. Th' ain't no 
 barm in him, as I kin see, an' they on'y drive the feller 
 off. Wonder ef De, raley, — " by this time the subject 
 of her mother's speculations had passed through the 
 big gate, back of the barn, crossed the barnyard and 
 entered the houseyard by the gate in the picket fence, 
 and thence come straight to where her mother was 
 standing in the kitchen door in the growing dusk of the 
 twilight. 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 151 
 
 "De, child," said Mrs. Braddock giving the sur- 
 rounding heavens the pretense of an elaborate exami- 
 nation as the engaging maid tripped to her mother's 
 side, "I was surmisin' be it 'bout ter rain. Can't make 
 out, nohow. What d' you think?" and Mother Brad- 
 dock again swept the horizon with great anxiety appar- 
 ent in her manner. 
 
 "Aren't they getting the harvest in, all right?" 
 asked the daughter, letting her sight follow her mother's 
 to the gentle evening heavens. 
 
 "B'lieve they be," replied Martha Braddock, to 
 whom the long continuation of false pretenses and ap- 
 pearances was criminal in her truthful soul. She gave 
 a further poorly affected glance of scrutiny at the sky, 
 and asked in a casual manner, 
 
 "Seen Billy White's straw hat out there, jes' now, 
 didn't I?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, maw," responded the girl with perfect 
 readiness. "William was out there, by the river, writ- 
 ing. I left him talking with a tramp. ' ' 
 
 Out on the banks of Lost River, William White was 
 saying : 
 
 "Can't you get work?" 
 
 The question was addressed to a man of seedy ap- 
 pearance, but one who wore a certain air of free and 
 independent bearing that distinguished him from the 
 ordinary type of the destitute. His hands bore the 
 tattoo marks of the seafaring; he was strong and mus- 
 cular, and appeared willing and anxious to work. When 
 he took off his hat he uncovered a ragged scar which 
 showed above his brows. 
 
 "P can't get work," answered the man, "an' they'd 
 as soon I wuz dead and rotting in the fields." 
 "You mean they that will not give you work?" 
 "I mean them, 'at '11 not gimme no job," replied the 
 
152 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 man under examination. "It's a hard biz'ness when ye 
 wants a bit o' work, an' can't get it. Oh, yes, it's easy 
 enough then to say, 'Wat's the use!' an', crack, an' 
 it's all off," and the speaker illustrated the meaning of 
 his speech by presenting an imaginary revolver at his 
 head and pulling an imaginary trigger. 
 
 ' ' I wouldn 't do that, if I were you, ' ' said White. 
 
 "No, sir, I wouldn't either. I don't believe nothin', 
 nohow, in sooiecide. It's thievin'; it's takin' w'at ain't 
 yer own — yer life belongs as much to God an' yer feller 
 creatures, ez it does to yerself. But it's discouragin', 
 sir, at times, — 'tis, indeed, to the best uv 'em; an' that's 
 a fack, " pursued White's chance discourser. "The 
 only place I got a chance, since I kum into this here 
 state uv Injanny, wuz with darn thieves; and ruther'n 
 stay with that kind o' cattle I quit. I believe it's better 
 ter be 'onest. My mother taught me that much, ef I'm 
 a pretty ugly ol' hulk er not." 
 
 "You say you got a chance among 'thieves'?" que- 
 ried William White, whose thoughts quickly and natu- 
 rally reverted to the experience he himself had recently 
 gone through with the outlaws. 
 
 "Ye 're right, cap'n, — that's what they wuz," replied 
 the man. 
 
 It suddenly, like an inspiration, flashed across the 
 mind of White that this might be the tramp whose 
 unexplained disappearance, on the night of his own 
 secret and compulsory introduction into the outlaws' 
 cave, had given the leader of the desperadoes such con- 
 cern. If so, would he likely know anything of use to 
 De's lover, in search for information as to the meaning 
 of his own involuntary visit to the freebooter's resort? 
 The man might be — doubtless was — honest, as he him- 
 self had said; it would be well to find out what the 
 tramp knew. 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 153 
 
 "I suppose you had trouble with those thieves, you 
 speak of, and left them?" cautiously began White. 
 
 "Didn't go fur enough to have trouble with 'em," 
 replied the writer's needy companion. 
 
 "How did you find them out — discover they were 
 wrong, then?" asked the other. 
 
 "Why, see here, mister, I don't v.-ant to git into no 
 onnecessary trouble, if they's nothin' to gain by it to 
 you er me, ' ' said the man prudently. 
 
 "You can trust me, if you care to speak," returned 
 White. " It is possible I can help you. ' ' 
 
 "Why, ye see, then, stranger," rejoined the writer's 
 informant, casting a slow glance about as if to make 
 sure no third person was in hearing, "these here fel- 
 lers, w'at I tell you uv, wuz — " 
 
 "Yes — yes," exclaimed the eager listener, his inter- 
 est growing into impatience, as the other hesitated ; " go 
 on. 
 
 " — \\T.iz," went on the tramp, even more slowly, 
 "a-carryin' off a man." 
 
 His o\vn abduction. White saw, had been witnessed by 
 his chance acquaintance. 
 
 "They were carrying off a man, were they?" ob- 
 served the interested writer carelessly. "A pleasant 
 occupation, I should say. And you sav/ them doing 
 it?" 
 
 "I seen 'em, sure enough," was the ready reply. 
 
 "Could you recognize the man?" 
 
 "Can't say. 'Twuz too dark." 
 
 "And about when was this?" 
 
 The tramp described time and locality, clearly 
 showing he had been present upon the occasion of the 
 writer's adventure. In the instincts which had already 
 prompted the lover of De to believe in the tramp's 
 honesty, the former readily conceived the* purpose of 
 
154 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 employing his new ally to secretly track the outlaws, 
 who were apparently concerned in matters affecting 
 De Braddock's interests, and attempt to uncover their 
 designs. Of course, it w^as possible that the seemingly 
 haphazard meeting, in the woods, might be ^^^th one who 
 had been sent by the thieves themselves to spy upon 
 him; but William White put this supposition aside, and 
 chose to follow his first impulse to trust his strange 
 acquaintance. 
 
 ' ' You did not know I was the man, ' ' remarked White, 
 "they 'carried off'?" 
 
 The companion of the writer's experience evinced, 
 by his manner and reply, a surprise too genuine for even 
 a lingering suspicion to find further place in the ques- 
 tioner's mind. 
 
 Trust one, at all, trust him fully, is some part of wis- 
 dom. Once committed to the course which had sug- 
 gested itself, the literary man lost no time in putting 
 the other in possession of sufficient knowledge of affairs 
 to give him an intelligent understanding of White's 
 wants; and there was formed an alliance, which was 
 destined to bring the most important and valuable re- 
 sults; but it was not until the heroism of De Braddock 
 herself had inspired the tramp friend of White with a 
 species of idolatry for the girl, whom William was try- 
 ing to serve, that the entire country- was laid under 
 tribute by the courageous wayfarer to secure her safety 
 and escape from the toils of Brad Simons and his kind. 
 
 "Marthy, woman," said Uncle Peter Braddock, who 
 now came up to De and her mother, "them men is 
 pow'rful hungry, an' wouldn't be 't all sa-prised ef ye 
 didn't hev' ter pos'pone yer talkin', ye an' De thar', an' 
 git 'em somep'n ter eat. B'en a-pesterin' Bob Likkum, 
 ag'in, ye sassy baggage?" said Uncle Peter pinching his 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 155 
 
 daughter's fair cheek. "Seen him, jes' now. Sez he 
 brought a letter frum John." 
 
 "Yes, Peter; I'll tell ye all about it, d'reckly," upon 
 which remark Mrs. Braddock, dutifully assisted 'by her 
 daughter, addressed herself to the final preparations 
 for the evening meal. 
 
 Uncle Peter Braddock had commenced life when the 
 more primitive farm methods were yet in vogue. The 
 first ditching machine had filled the old man's soul with 
 wonder. The change in plows and the gradual develop- 
 ment of the reaper and thresher had been revolutions 
 of the universe to him and to his associates. He was 
 tall, straight and splendidly rugged. His age was sixty. 
 His dark hair was just beginning to turn iron gray ; but 
 his deepset eyes were still bright and piercing. His 
 features were strong, a little bony, vigorous and truth- 
 ful, and pointed by the oldtime tuft of whiskers on the 
 end of the chin. 
 
 His type is passing away. New men and new methods 
 are claiming the allegiance to the past as theirs ; and 
 only the hollow echoes of the old days ring both with 
 the faint far off notes of the pioneer's axe and his lusty, 
 triumphant shout swelling the volume of sound through 
 the glades of his uncleared land. 
 
 The evening meal was over and Peter Braddock fol- 
 lowed Martha out to the springhouse. 
 
 "Where be De?" said the old man. "Brad's comin', 
 this evenin'." 
 
 "I dunno, father, where De be," responded Mrs. 
 Braddock, setting down a crock of milk near the cool, 
 running spring water. Mrs. Braddock did know where 
 De was, 
 
 "Brad's got lots of money," observed Uncle Peter. 
 
 "Yes, paw," dutifully assented Mother Braddock. 
 
 "What d'ye think?" asked Peter. 
 
156 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Well, the gal ought to hev' her own ch'ice," replied 
 Peter's helpmate. 
 
 "I don't think much o' thet there Billy White, 'ith 
 his writin' things," said the old man. 
 
 "Nothin' wrong uv 'im," rejoined the other. 
 
 ' ' See here. ' ' Uncle Peter was beginning to say, when 
 he ceased abruptly. His face took on a listening ex- 
 pression. "Who's that, 'round in front, talkin?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Martha "didn't know." She did, though. It was 
 Billy White and De at the gate. Mrs. Braddock's sym- 
 pathies were all with her daughter. 
 
 "I'll jes' go 'round an' see," remarked Peter sus- 
 piciously. As he turned away he said : ' ' We '11 keep the 
 parson, to-night." 
 
 ]\Iartha Braddock would have prevented her husband 
 from interfering with the lovers had it been in her 
 power. As it was, she went back to the house full of 
 disquiet. 
 
 Peter Braddock, an honest and well disposed farmer, 
 but one possessed of a conviction that his daughter 
 could not advance her interests by a marriage with a 
 man who squandered his time writing books, walked 
 soberly around the house and, so engaged were they in 
 each other, came upon De and White before they were 
 aware of his approach. White was standing in the road 
 without, close to the gate, and De was leaning on the 
 gate, on the other side from her lover. 
 
 "Whut ye two doin', here?" inquired the farmer 
 bluntly. 
 
 The two young people were silent. 
 
 "Will'um," said Peter Braddock, "I know'd yer 
 father, old Sam White, 'afore ye, an' I can't hev' 
 nothin' 'cept the kindes' feelin's fur his boy, — but, ye 
 know, my gal is all mother an' me 's got. Book writin's 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 157 
 
 nothin', an' I hain't said it, yit, but I say it, now, thet 
 nothin' ser'us kin kum uv this here nonsense, 'atween 
 ye two; an' I sez, ternight, ye'd better not come aroun'. 
 Huh?" 
 
 "Father," remonstrated De, in shocked surprise. 
 
 "He knows what I think uv his callin'," said the old 
 farmer, obstinately; "it's thet of a beggar." He was in 
 for it, now, — the old man was,— and he was going to see 
 it through. 
 
 Since White's loss in the bank robbery, Mr. Braddock 
 had been unusually severe with the author. If William's 
 means, before the writer's impoverishment, did not re- 
 deem the writer's prejudiced calling in that community 
 of early soil workers, little less did Uncle Peter now 
 view with favor that which, at best, appealed to him as 
 an entirely impractical vocation; the concluding senti- 
 ment of which comforting and highly satisfactory 
 opinion has been shared by later and greatly advanced 
 wisdom. 
 
 "Mr. Braddock," White, flushing in the darkness, 
 began, when he was interrupted by De's father. 
 
 "I've said my say," dogmatically asserted Uncle 
 Peter, whose ordinarily easy going nature was here irri- 
 tated by opposition, "an' I don't want no back talk." 
 He felt better, too, with some excuse for his extraordi- 
 nary conduct to the literary object of his condemnation. 
 
 White turned as if to go, but, appearing prompted by 
 second thought, turned back. 
 
 "Mr. Braddock, I'm sorry to be forced into words 
 with you, in presence of your daughter, but I must tell 
 you I am no beggar." 
 
 "Don't keer; ye can't make your salt out o' po'try 
 writin' an' sieh, — ye know it," stoutly persisted Brad- 
 dock, his tones expressing an uncompromising finality. 
 
 Had William White let the matter rest there it might 
 
158 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 have been well. He rejoined, spurred by the presence 
 of the woman he loved, 
 
 "My calling is as good as that of a plowman." 
 
 Peter Braddock, with the deep and abiding pride of 
 a pioneer of the soil, looked, for a moment, as if he could 
 not believe his ears. He swelled in the righteousness of 
 his wrath. A book writer as good as a plo-wman — and 
 the secret sneer at a tiller of the soil lurking, from a 
 "literary feller," in the use of the word "plowman!" 
 
 "Will'um White, ye 're crazy," cried the old Hoosier, 
 as soon as he was able to collect his scattered senses. I 
 won't do my da'ter the onjestice to think she ever cared 
 fer ye, anyway." De was trying to stop the coming 
 flood with her hands on her father's shoulders. "Ye 
 don't kum here, anymore," cried the old man in tones 
 growing louder and louder. "Book writin' ez good 's 
 plo"wdn'! De, go to yer mother." The girl went slowly 
 as bidden. "Now, see here, Mr, White," concluded 
 Peter Braddock; "there ain't nothin' 's good ez 'n 
 'onest farmer," and Uncle Peter, in the heat of temper, 
 betrayed into vanity, turned, in his fury, from the lit- 
 erary man and followed De into the house. 
 
 ! ' There ! ' ' said the old fellow, a moment after, to 
 Mother Braddock; "I giv' thet thare young freshet, 
 Billy White, a piece uv my mind; an' he don't come 
 aroun' here no more." 
 
 Mother Braddock only sighed. 
 
 They were all gathered together in the good, old 
 fashioned country parlor. Here was a piano, however, 
 given to De by her mother. A pretty pattern of ' ' store ' ' 
 carpet of De's own selection covered the floor. Simple 
 pictures adorned the walls, and neat, white curtains, 
 daintily caught up at the sides with red ribbons bought 
 by De with her chicken and egg money of a passing 
 peddler, added their own little touch of feminine charm 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 159 
 
 to the room. On the center table, in state, lay the family 
 bible containing, in Peter Braddock's strong, character- 
 istic writing, the records of his family tree — births, 
 marriages and deaths. A banjo, the gift to De of Will- 
 iam White, rested in respected silence in one corner of 
 the apartment, testifying thus mutely and eloquently to 
 the tuneful soul of the exiled donor. 
 
 Parson Woods was present being "put up" for the 
 night and Bob Likkum had stopped by as he drove 
 home in the democrat, in the evening, from The Forks, 
 north of the Braddock farm. 
 
 De, at the piano, was singing; Bob Likkum, with his 
 long, thin legs crossed and twisted one around the other, 
 was nursing his knees with both hands, and Parson 
 Woods, sitting near the piano, with eyes closed and head 
 reclining against a high backed chair, was drinking in 
 the rich melody of the young singer's voice, when there 
 appeared at the open door, through which stole the 
 faint, sweet scent of roses, the sleek, robust, unctious 
 form of Brad Simons. 
 
 Mrs. Braddock, who sat with some knitting within 
 easy reach of the red-shaded lamp, which sat upon the 
 center table, at once arose and, lowering a little the 
 smoking flame, as the singing ceased advanced in the 
 direction of Simons. 
 
 "Speak him fair, father," Mrs. Braddock contented 
 herself with saying in a low voice as she passed her hus- 
 band, "and I'll tell ye about it later." 
 
 Uncle Peter got to his feet and greeted Simons, who 
 could make as good an entrance and, with a fair field 
 and no favors, infuse as much entertainment into a 
 social gathering as the next. 
 
 De alone hung back. Simons noticed her coldness and 
 came to her side as she sat at the piano. 
 
 "Miss Delia," said Brad Simons, with marked em- 
 
160 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 phasis and out of all custom pronouncing the girl's full 
 name, "it never came my way to call you by the short 
 cut most folks use. Your full name's such a pretty one, 
 that—" 
 
 "Call me what the other's call me or nothing," re- 
 sponded the girl, a touch of shortness in her tones, 
 which, if it escaped the others, did not escape Simons or, 
 in fact, Robert Likkum. 
 
 "Miss — ]Miss De," replied Simons affecting a gal- 
 lantry, and pretending to stumble over asumed difficul- 
 ties of the situation, "that being the case, I shall call 
 you by the name you like best, from this to the end; 
 for," continued the speaker, apparently bent on being 
 agreeable, ' 'tis better to have called and lost, than never 
 to have called, at all.' " Upon communicating this neat 
 bit of paraphrase or sentiment to any or all minded to 
 listen. Brad Simons smiled pleasantly, showed a set of 
 strong, white teeth and turned companionably to the 
 company. He squared himself on his feet, with folded 
 arms, and planted himself, in an easy, familiar attitude, 
 with his back against the piano; and continued to smile 
 sociably. 
 
 "Will any of you go down to camp meeting, next 
 Monday?" affably pursued Bradford Simons fixed upon 
 prosecuting his intentions to be agreeable and entertain- 
 ing, in spite of a certain constraint which, except in the 
 case of Uncle Peter and possibly Parson Woods, had 
 seemed to settle on the company upon Brad's arrival. 
 
 "P'raps," said Uncle Peter who, at this point, al- 
 though entirely failing in comprehension touching its 
 significance, bore in mind "mother's" injunction "to 
 speak Simons fair;" which, together with his own 
 partial bias in favor of Brad, keyed him to quite a 
 tension of urbanity. 
 
 Bob cleared his throat. "Ye all know th' old song," 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 161 
 
 pleasantly observed Robert, as he proceeded to render a 
 bar of the vocal number which appeared to be, at that 
 moment, working in his own recollection, 
 
 I'll tell ye uv a feller — 
 
 Uv a feller I hev' seen, 
 He's nuther white, nur yeller. 
 
 But he's altogether green; 
 
 He kem, las' night, ter see me, 
 An' he made so long a stay, 
 
 I begin ter think ther blockhead 
 Never meant ter go away.' " 
 
 Bob was so skilful in the execution of this pointed 
 musical number, and presented it in a manner appar- 
 ently at once so impersonal and innocent, that, it is pos- 
 sible, none beyond himself. Brad Simons and De Avere 
 conscious of the meaning behind Likkum's graceful and 
 tune-lacking effort. 
 
 "Haw, havv, haw," burst from Farmer Braddock; 
 why, for the life of him, he could not have told. 
 
 I\Irs. Braddock had disappeared, but now returned 
 with a liberal supply of refreshments consisting of 
 gingerbread, apples and one of her select bottles of best 
 elderberry wine. 
 
 "That was a brilliant effort of yours, Robert," ob- 
 served Simons, with an effort to appear unconscious. 
 
 "Glad," said Bob, "you liked it. Thought you might 
 not." 
 
 De had a growing sense of "a friend at court" in Bob 
 Likkum. 
 
 "Hem," coughed Uncle Peter. 
 
 Mother Braddock looked a trifle worried; as she might 
 well have been. 
 
 Simons Vv^isely concluded to dodge the issue. 
 
162 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "I was over to to-vvn, the other day, and saw John," 
 said he, looking around the room at the various occu- 
 pants, and endeavoring to casually if not naturally fix 
 the attention of Uncle Peter and Martha. 
 
 "Oh, yes," a little eagerly began Mother Braddock; 
 "I jes' got a letter frum him." 
 
 Brad wondered how far his enforced and unpleasant 
 agent Tom Bolers had opened the way for his own 
 further interesting operations in the matter of securing 
 the hand of Martha's daughter. 
 
 "Do you hear often from John?" Simons asked 
 carelessly of De's mother. 
 
 "Johnnie never writes 'cept w'en he hez somethin' 
 partikler to say," answered Mrs. Braddock. 
 
 Brad looked at De. He, again, wondered how far 
 this particular thing, at this time inspiring John Brad- 
 dock to write home, had extended towards favoring his 
 own passion for the girl beside him. It was almost on 
 his tongue to put some form of his thought into words. 
 
 ' ' John, ' ' instead, he slowly observed, ' ' seemed to have 
 a — " Brad appeared to hesitate — "some unpleasantness 
 with that fellow Zeke Smithin, when I saw him. ' ' 
 
 Uncle Peter nodded his head. He had heard of it, 
 too. 
 
 "Wall, Zeke ain't the fu'st citizen in the love uv 
 his countrymen," remarked Bob Likkum. "He's orful 
 orn'ry — orn'ry 'nuff to be killed," continued the speak- 
 er, however unaware, as yet, of the serious threat John 
 Braddock had leveled at the subject of their discussion. 
 
 Brad glanced thoughtfully at Likkum: "John threat- 
 ened to do it — to kill him, ' ' said he. 
 
 "Did he?" said Bob, curiously. 
 
 "Yes," said Brad. 
 
 There was a feeling of interest in the room. John 
 Braddock was known to deal in few meaningless ex- 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 163 
 
 pressions. If he had menaced Zeke, he- had had strong 
 reason for doing so. The company was silent. 
 
 "It wouldn't be much loss," at last said Bob, uncon- 
 sciously voicing the sentiments of the farmer who, in the 
 barnyard that same evening, had reckoned with Uncle 
 Peter on Smithin's alleged worthlessness. 
 
 "Don't know but whut you're about right, Bob," 
 assented old Peter Braddock, drumming thoughtfully 
 with his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Zeke's awful 
 triflin', I tell you. Kem aroun' the place, here, t'other 
 day, he did — mebbe arter his affair with John. He got 
 so brash, I driv' him off'n the place, I did. He went 
 away mutterin' threats, an' growlin' out about the red 
 cock crowin ' in ther barn. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, father," exclaimed Mother Braddock, "d'ye 
 know what that means ? That's Gipsy talk. That means 
 he '11 burn the barn ! ' ' 
 
 "Guess not," satisfiedly returned the old man. 
 
 Uncle Peter had no sooner given utterance to these 
 last words than, 
 
 "Fire," yelled the fat farmboy Esau, dashing wildly 
 into the room. The boy was fat enough and his face red 
 enough, and he appeared conspicuous enough in the in- 
 stantaneous confusion that resulted from his sudden 
 entrance and announcement. They all rushed pell mell, 
 helter skelter out to the stable, which Esau pantingly 
 added was the unlucky object being consumed. There 
 was a smart wind and the flames had gained surprising 
 headvv^ay. Peter Braddock dashed into the threatened 
 and burning building for the horses, calling on volun- 
 teers to follow, which were supplied readily enough. 
 Bob Likkum with Brad Simons excitedly ran for water 
 buckets. The horses in safety. Uncle Peter joined the 
 bucket brigade. The flames were licking up the dry 
 outside wall of the barn to the eaves ; and the surround- 
 
164 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ing barnyard, the farmhouse on the other side of the 
 picket fence forming one side of the barnyard enclosure, 
 the pump and the thousand and one minutia breaking 
 the way to the fields around were shining clear in the 
 ominous and sinister light. Back of it all, at a distance 
 beyond, banking up in a dark mass, stood the woods 
 fringing the margin of Lost River. 
 
 "Git a ladder over thare, quick," shouted Uncle 
 Peter pointing to where, a little way off from the barn, 
 one lay balanced across an unused and disabled hayrake 
 in the barnyard. 
 
 Esau raced, fairly raced, for a fat boy, and got the 
 ladder. 
 
 "Stick it up here," commanded Uncle Peter fiercely, 
 indicating rapidly the point of vantage at which he 
 thought the fire might be most effectively combated. 
 " I 'd like ter hev ' ahol ' o ' who done this, ' ' hissed the old 
 man between his set teeth. He sensed, at last, the full 
 meaning, of mother's expressive words about "Gipsy 
 talk," and the possible relation of its late hostile em- 
 ployer Zeke Smithin to the present impending calamity. 
 
 The ladder was "stuck up" as directed by the ener- 
 getic and determined farmer, and the women continued 
 working with the men to supply sufficient water; men 
 and women, under Bob Likkum's prompt, skilful and 
 effective management, alike forming, as near as possible, 
 a continuous and unbroken line along which to pass 
 buckets from the pump to the fire. 
 
 The great, massive barn door had originally been 
 swung by means of common, strong, iron hinges, the 
 latter, in the course of time, much worn, and the one at 
 the top of the door having recently become broken a 
 stout leather hinge had taken its place. The flames had 
 eaten away this leather substitute, and the huge blazing 
 object which it had assisted in supporting was starting 
 
UNCLE PETER BRADDOCK. 165 
 
 to fall. De had taken a position in the rear of Parson 
 Woods, in the bucket line, and behind her stood Brad 
 Simons, the receptacles for water to extinguish the fast 
 increasing conflagration progressing rapidly between 
 them. Simons saw the big door sv.-aying out as De, 
 uttering a little cry and o])livious of her own risk, 
 caught sight, near the barn doorway, of her pet lamb 
 apparently stupefied by its position, and sprang for- 
 w^ard to carry it beyond the reach of danger. Brad, 
 with an exclamation of alarm and at great personal risk 
 and hazard, swiftly covered the distance between him- 
 self and the unconscious rescuer and savior of the lamb 
 just as she reached the incline ascending to the doorway 
 of the burning building. The door was descending in 
 flames and Brad had no time to drag the girl away ; but 
 stood courageously beneath the falling object. The fiery 
 mass, it seemed to the man below, came down like lead. 
 It taxed, under the critical and trying circumstances, 
 even his own great strength and endurance to mth- 
 stand the shock of physical impact dra^nng on the grim 
 and unflinching resistance necessary to successfully en- 
 counter and endure the heat and flames. His hands 
 were burned; his hair on fire. Parson Woods gave a 
 shout and sprang to Simons' relief. It vras all over in 
 a moment ; but De was sensible of the debt she owed her 
 rescuer. It might have cost her dear had she been 
 caught beneath the falling mass of heavy timbers. The 
 incident, at the time, w^as passed over with little remark ; 
 but it left Brad Simons in a new light in the honest 
 minded girl's estimation. 
 
 At last by great exertion the blaze was checked; the 
 firelight flickered out low and fitfully over the sur- 
 rounding scene, and the fire fighters were permitted to 
 see their efforts crowned with fair success. The barn 
 had sustained considerable damage, but was saved for 
 
166 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 all practical purposes. The hay at the other side of the 
 loft had escaped, or nothing could have preserved the 
 farm structure from total destruction. 
 
 With the blazing building between him and the fire 
 fighters, and outside the range of firelight, a man 
 skulked in the obscurity and gloom of fence and bush, 
 while he made his way to the trees along the river. The 
 person of the insulter of John Braddock's -wdfe, and the 
 mortal enemy of Peter Braddock, Zeke Smithin, could 
 have been recognized in the man thus stealing away. 
 
 The big Newfoundland dog suddenly barked loudly. 
 
 "Shet up," sharply commanded Uncle Peter, whose 
 nerves had stood all they were going to. 
 
 De, nearby, patted the faithful animal on the head, 
 which affectionate and friendly attention he acknowl- 
 edged by a quick wag of the tail. 
 
 "Bu'st my time!" ejaculated Uncle Peter Braddock 
 when, all danger over, he stood in the barnyard and 
 mopped the perspiration from his face with his red 
 bandana handkerchief, while the others were gathered 
 about; "ef I thought, mother, that ye could be right 
 'bout that 'tarnal Zeke Smithin an' his red cock biz'ness 
 meanin' he did this barn burnin', — " Uncle Peter 
 paused; he seemed to find it difficult to speak, — "John 
 ought to kill him," burst from the old man's lips. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ZEKE SMITHIN MEETS A VIOLENT END, 
 
 Zeke Smithin's unaccountable and seemingly un- 
 timely end came, with startling abruptness, upon Uncle 
 Peter Braddock's conscious words touching his son's 
 feelings toward Smithin and prompted, at the conclu- 
 sion of the fire, by the just indignation of the old 
 Hoosier over the supposed attempt to destroy his barn. 
 
 Zeke, in his own purposeless and shiftless life, had 
 been a gambler. At such times as his wayward fancy 
 moved him, he would mount horse and ride aimlessly 
 for days, "lookin','' as he put it, "fur luck." Just 
 previous to his death, he had mounted his scrawny 
 horse and sallied forth from T , as usual to chal- 
 lenge fortune. His wanderings had wound up at a cer- 
 tain town in that locality; and there Zeke had broken 
 a faro bank. Afterward, he had restridden his bony 
 steed and, loaded with spoil, set forth upon his return 
 
 to the town of T . The circumstances attending 
 
 Ezekiel's progress were so far clearly defined; but here 
 the trail was lost. Like the renowned river in Southern 
 Indiana, which flows in majestic self possession and 
 picturesque beauty for miles, and then suddenly and 
 mysteriously disappears to as unaccountably reappear, 
 after miles of invisibility, so was the famous course of 
 events in the murder of Zeke Smithin. After being 
 plainly visible to the point of Zeke's departure with 
 the possessions of the faro bank, its current incompre- 
 hensibly sank from view only to come once more to the 
 surface after a fashion to be presently noted. 
 
 167 
 
168 THE CAVERNS OF DAYfN. 
 
 It was Saturday, at about the hour of noon. The 
 
 town of T wore a prosperous air. Farm wagons 
 
 in profusion surrounded the court house square, and 
 stood with horses from long drives, hitched to the rails 
 (common, at that time, in the public squares of rural 
 towns) and drooping restfully in their gear. 
 
 Farmers in "store clothes," some in the garb in 
 which they had left the fields, their butternut jeans 
 thrust in their rusty boots, and broad flapping straw 
 hats enveloping their faces, idled around upon neigh- 
 boring corners, either preening their fine feathers or 
 jangling the big brass spur upon the heel of the old, 
 yellow, mud covered boot, or lazily switching random 
 bootleg or varied object with riding v\hip or buggy 
 lash. The busy hum of country talk, town gossip and 
 politics was abroad. The stores were busy, too ; while 
 men from the neighboring farms took this day to gather 
 around a social glass and swap prices in wheat, corn 
 and cattle. It was a day of quite uncommon rural 
 activity and bustle. 
 
 Passing in and out of the crowd; stopping to ex- 
 change a word with this one and that, and showing 
 himself a familiar visitor to the town, went a powerful, 
 heavy set man, short of stature, of colorless, smooth 
 shaven face, and a square, iron like jaw. He had a 
 manner of singular confidence, and he approached one 
 group of talkers after another with the utmost ease and 
 assurance. As he neared a little knot of men, who were 
 discussing the politics of the country, the deference paid 
 him by those present, and a certain air of fear of the 
 man worn by all who addressed him, proclaimed his 
 position to be one of importance and influence in the 
 community. His keen, furtive glance kept roving from 
 group to group, evidently searching for someone. 
 
 "No tellin' what that there feller hain't into, er 
 
ZEKE MEETS A VIOLENT END. 169 
 
 where 'e ben't about to ketch a feller in th' dark, any 
 time," remarked a farmer, in a guarded and cautious 
 voice, as the silent, square jawed, pale faced man went 
 by. "He's got 'em all by th' short hair, fellers weth 
 brains an' all, an' 'e never went to school more'n a day 
 in 'is life, so he sez. " 
 
 "Jason Jump, ye mean?" commented a second man. 
 
 "Ya-as," rejoined the first. "He's got the politics 
 uv this here darn country, county an' deestrict spiked, 
 an' on'y jus' kum tuh the State. Friend uv Brad's — 
 Brad Simons. Carries the hull durn neighborhood 
 aroun' in his pocket, and a heep o' other things same 
 way, that ye don't want to talk about, reckon. Guess 
 he makes a livin' out o' cattle raisin' 'ith Brad Simons 
 — don't know." 
 
 "Wouldn't like to know much where he goes, up in 
 the hills. 'Tain't healthy to know everything, I tell ye," 
 discreetly observed the second speaker. 
 
 In the meantime, the subject of discussion and re- 
 mark passed on up the street and placing a hand on the 
 arm of Brad Simons, standing with Bob Likkum in 
 front of the post office, drew him aside. 
 
 The man — Jason Jump, thus characteristically re- 
 ferred to by the farmer, talked long and earnestly with 
 Simons. He appeared to offer views objectionable to 
 Brad, as the latter was seen to shake his head, ex- 
 claiming, 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 "But," persisted Jump, "I say, yes. If I am going 
 to lead those fellows, it must be my way. You know 
 you get plenty out of it." 
 
 The point, to whatever matter it related, was ad- 
 justed quickly and satisfactorily to Jason Jump's idea 
 of personal supremacy. 
 
 "Brad," then said Simons' companion, looking euri- 
 
170 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ously out of the corner of his eye at the cattleman's 
 florid countenance, "you must have an A 1 house- 
 keeper. ' ' 
 
 "Mona's all right," replied Brad, unsuspiciously. 
 
 "Yes," continued the other, " should say she was. 
 Going to marry her?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" quickly exclaimed the other, 
 his suspicions now aroused. 
 
 "Oh, nothing special," carelessly rejoined Jump. 
 "That's a nice marriage agreement between you and 
 her." 
 
 "You were in the bank robbery, then, Black Hank, 
 were you, you damned thief?" cried Simons furiously, 
 in the sudden realization of the possession, by his dan- 
 gerous and unscrupulous associate, of that seriously 
 compromising agreement between himself and his house- 
 keeper; at a time, too, when the infatuated stockman 
 felt himself falling deeper and deeper under the spell 
 of De Braddock. The inconvenient document had been 
 among the papers and bank deposit of Mona Walker, 
 and which were stolen from the bank. 
 
 "You eternal fool!" hissed the companion of the 
 enraged cattleman; "you call me that name, here, and 
 I'll do you up." 
 
 * ' What 's your game ? ' ' retorted Simons, a little more 
 steadily. 
 
 Jump's own anger had been deeply aroused, and 
 was yet burning fiercely in his piercing glance. 
 
 "You're trying to marry De Braddock, and ruin 
 Mona Walker. I shall, certainly, not permit you to do 
 the latter," the outlaw leader's voice was cold, in sup- 
 pressed temper. 
 
 "Mr, Jump," observed the cattle trader, an icy 
 calm taking the place of his previous rage, "it appears 
 to me, that you are going somewhat deeply, maybe a 
 
ZEKE MEETS A VIOLENT END. 171 
 
 little too deeply, into the affairs of this community. I 
 have been, likewise, privately informed, that your out- 
 lawry inspired young Bolers to his act of forgery." 
 
 It may be as well to say here, that there has been no 
 intention of connecting Brad Simons with the actual 
 membership of the criminal organization of which Jason 
 Jump was the head. Simons was not a sworn member. 
 However, by a profound cunning, he maintained a firm 
 control of these unworthy members of society. He 
 might be said to have occupied some such a position as 
 that of "fence," to receive and handle stolen goods. He 
 joined in none of the meetings of the odious order; and 
 had never been other than a powerful and dangerous 
 authority to submit and appeal to, on the outside. 
 
 "That for your information," retaliated the in- 
 censed and defiant robber, in response to Simons' last 
 speech, at the same time snapping his fingers in Simons' 
 face. 
 
 "Another little matter," still quietly went on the 
 outlaw's secret and deadly associate, while a murderous 
 look crept into his eyes. In repressed, even tones, and 
 with ominous suspicion, he concluded: "The Smithin 
 affair ought to keep you busy enough." 
 
 "What do you — ?" Simons' companion, with a 
 singular expression of concealed cunning, was abruptly 
 and suddenly silent. Then, "Now, Simons, you're try- 
 ing to marry De Braddock. How much is that marriage 
 agreement worth?" 
 
 "I've a mind, you villain," ground out Simons be- 
 tween his teeth, with an additional oath, "to hand you 
 and your d d gang over to the law." 
 
 "Oh, no, you haven't," was the other man's cool 
 rejoinder. "You might be handing yourself over, at 
 the same time. — How much is it worth, Simons?" 
 
 "Not a cent," said the cattleman, in a 
 
172 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 tone of stifled wrath, and, turning on his heel, he walked 
 away. 
 
 "Well," said Jump, "we'll see about that, later." 
 
 Near a popular saloon, there was assembled a small 
 group of farmers, including the representative influence 
 of the locality. 
 
 ' ' Step right in, men ! ' ' called a cheery voice, ' ' and 
 prime up," and a well known local politician, who at 
 the moment was passing, paused in his utterance of this 
 address and looked smilingly at the gathering. 
 
 There was a ready response and a general entrance 
 into the drinking place. While those assembled were 
 partaking of the politically minded host's entertain- 
 ment, there pushed excitedly into the barroom a man 
 shouting, 
 
 "Zeke Smithin's bin killed — found weth his head 
 bu 'sted, on the road runnin ' over past Samples 's place. ' ' 
 
 Jason Jump, sauntering carelessly in, his usually 
 cold, white, expressionless face, to the casual observer, 
 twitching slightly, was a curious and interested listener. 
 
 ' ' Don 't allow ! ' ' said a farmer setting his glass down 
 nntasted on the bar, and gazing with open mouth at the 
 bearer of these tidings. 
 
 "Huh?" exclaimed another holding his undrained 
 glass at his lips, in an attitude of eloquent astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 The politician alone appeared to retain his presence 
 of mind. Having in tow the present goodly gathering 
 of bulwarks of a free country, he raised his voice : 
 
 "Gentlemen, it is as I have long been telling you. 
 The country is going to the dogs. Look at our laws — 
 look — look — I say, gentlemen, look — " they were look- 
 ing as hard as they could. The little gathering of men 
 permitted its gaze to wheel slowly to the face of the 
 speaker and continue to rest there. "I say, look at the 
 
ZEKE MEETS A VIOLENT END. 173 
 
 condition," burst forth the orator, as if, in an unhappy 
 quagmire of political statesmansliip, a happy inspira- 
 tion had suddenly come to his relief, — "look at the con- 
 dition in which the tyranny of our benighted land has 
 left — our country roads, on which, in the full light of 
 the glorious day of liberty, our most respected citizens" 
 (news had preceded Zeke's untimely end of Zeke's pos- 
 session of the funds of the faro bank) "are struck down, 
 by the remorseless hand of power, in our midst, in the 
 heydey of power and glory. ' ' 
 
 How much longer the bewildered listeners had been 
 held spellbound by these singular powers of political 
 oratory will have to remain undetermined, for, at this 
 moment, the entrance of Bob Likkum and Uncle Peter 
 Braddock interrupted the efforts of the orator. 
 
 The politician, who had a surprising facility of varia- 
 tion, exclaimed, upon the arrival of Bob and Uncle 
 Peter, 
 
 "Drink, gentlemen, drink of the nectar of the gods!" 
 
 "Whose necktie?" drawled Bob. 
 
 They all laughed. 
 
 The breathless messenger, who had brought the news 
 of Smithin's fate, and who had been struck dumb in 
 the face of the politician's surprising explanation of 
 crime in general, and upon their country roads in par- 
 ticular, was here, by means of the contents of a bottle 
 shoved across the bar, at last restored to powers of 
 speech. He went on to treat his interested audience 
 to the few facts attending the discovery of Zeke's body, 
 and many more details not facts, which his imagination, 
 fired by the country whiskey, supplied the modern 
 Ananias, on whom the benignant pictured features of 
 the father of his country looked down in sadness, from 
 the wall behind the bar. 
 
 There had insinuated himself into the throng col- 
 
174 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 lected at the bar a character well known in the com- 
 munity for an entire absence of all habits of industry, 
 unless the devotion of one's moments to the pleasures 
 of pastime may, in dearth of other occupation, be re- 
 garded among the enterprises. This man, by name, Job 
 Saunders, now spoke up. 
 
 "Wall, bu'st me," observed Saunders, "ef that ain't 
 about it — seen a strange feller, yist'day, sneakin' 'long 
 the fence by Samples 's wood, w'en I b'en over there to 
 the river, a-fishin'." 
 
 "What'd he look like?" inquired Bob Likkum. 
 
 "Slouchy kind uv a cuss," said Job. 
 
 "Get clost to him?" pursued Bob. 
 
 ' * By gum ! ' ' replied Job, who like all neglected hu- 
 manity warmed up to unexpected notoriety; "was as 
 clost as from me to you." 
 
 "Scar," said Bob, — "scar acrost his forehead, 
 here?" and Bob suited the action to the word and drew 
 the forefinger of his own right hand across his own fore- 
 head. 
 
 ' ' By gum ! now, gentlemen, ' ' again impressively 
 ejaculated Job, "that's him — we've got him — hed the 
 scar jest as you said he had." 
 
 "Got him — got who?" sharply and with original 
 grammar asked the man who had indulged his hearers 
 with the recent remarks on political science; but who, 
 strange to say, was a la-v^yer of ability and of extended 
 practice. "What do you mean?" this last to Bob Lik- 
 kum, 
 
 "Why, ye see, Bob and me," quietly put in Uncle 
 Peter Braddoek, "we was a-goin' along this mornin', 
 drivin' over here ^4th mother and De, and seen a 
 feller—" 
 
 "Seen a feller — " took up Likkum at this point. 
 
 "Jest—" said Uncle Peter. 
 
ZEKE MEETS A VIOLENT END. 175 
 
 "Like—" said Bob. 
 
 "What Job says — " continued Uncle Peter. 
 
 "The other feller was like," finished Bob. 
 
 "And our Esau," added Uncle Peter, as though it 
 might be a useful piece of evidence on which to hang 
 a man, — "our Esau tol' me, 'at he driv' a man 'at had 
 a scar on his furhead out'n our barn, where the gol darn 
 tramp was sleepin', t'other day." Uncle Peter could 
 not "abide" tramps. 
 
 The lawyer laughed. "Well, men," he said nat- 
 urally enough, "convict a man on that! Scarcely as 
 plain as a pikestaff. Hardly occasion to say, could 
 scarcely hang a yellow dog on that evidence." 
 
 But pebbles make eddies, and Peter Braddock's re- 
 mark dropped in the current of talk had its effect. 
 
 ' * All right, ' ' here spoke up one who, up to that time, 
 had remained silent, — "all right, but better git the 
 feller, if possible," and the speaker, who was the sheriff 
 of the county, took a well chewed piece of cigar from 
 his mouth and spat in a quick, short way of decision. 
 
 Jason Jump, still watchful — still silent, stood a mo- 
 ment. Then, said: 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You're certainly correct about that, Zach," re- 
 joined the lawyer to the sheriff, and the latter 's moving 
 to the door was the cue for a general departure of those 
 gathered in the barroom. 
 
 Jason Jump sauntered out, with easy nonchalance. 
 
 When Uncle Peter Braddock left the drinking 
 place he encountered Mrs. Braddock. 
 
 "Mother," said Uncle Peter, as Mother Braddock 
 joined him, "ye've heerd, I take it, of Zeke Smithin's 
 end?" 
 
 "Oh! Peter, ain't it dreadful (Mrs. Braddock pro- 
 
176 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 nounced this word "drefful"). I don't know what this 
 wicked world's a-comin' to, I don't." 
 
 "Yes, pore feller. Zeke's b'en a good sort, arter 
 all," moralized Uncle Peter prone, after the manner of 
 his kind, to find virtues in the dead denied the living, — 
 "never did no harm to nobody, as I knows on." Peter 
 generously forgave his own suspicions, and never knew 
 definitely who set fire to the barn. 
 
 "Where are they all goin', in that crowd?" queried 
 Martha as the neighbors of Uncle Peter, with whom the 
 old man had just parted company, hurried, wdth un- 
 wonted commotion, dovm the street. 
 
 "They's a feller they be after, 'at they think, maybe, 
 had somep'n to do with the killin' of Zeke," replied 
 Mr. Braddock to his wife's question; "an' the sheriff 
 an' the possy," Uncle Peter deemed it a fitting legal 
 process to appoint the crowd, now rapidly swelling and 
 moving away with the sheriff, a posse comitatus, and did 
 so out of hand, — much pleased with himself Uncle Peter 
 repeated,—' ' the sheriff and the possy is after the feller. 
 They bin a-drinkin' some," added the farmer thought- 
 fully,— "hope they won't hurt the crittur." 
 
 At this moment the figure of Rachel Bolers, in the 
 same sudden and unexpected manner in which it had 
 appeared at the Braddock farm, started into view. It 
 came seemingly from the rear of some idlers by the 
 courthouse square, and advanced across the road in 
 the direction of Farmer Braddock and his party. Mrs. 
 Braddock was the first to catch sight of the specter like 
 face and person of Nance's mother. 
 
 "Peter— Peter, let's be goin ',— there 's that gal Nan 
 Bolers' mammy." 
 
 Despite these earnest beseechings from :\Irs. Brad- 
 dock, Peter Braddock stolidly held his ground. 
 
ZEKE MEETS A VIOLENT END. 177 
 
 "Pore thing," compassionately said the old man, 
 gazing at the woman nearing them. 
 
 The face of Nance Bolers' mother, as the latter 
 reached the edge of the walk on which the group from 
 the Braddock farmstead stood, was lighted with the 
 appearance of the wild disorder of a mind deranged; 
 and, as usual, the demented creature caught, in her 
 speech, at the controlling emotion and idea of the mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "They'll ketch him— Jack Ketch '11 git 'im, an' 
 they'll hang him — Jack Ketch '11 hang 'im!" she cried, 
 in an eerie monotone. "They'll ketch 'im, an' they'll 
 hang 'im, ' ' repeated the woman, ' ' and they 'd orter, for 
 he spiled my gal — my Nanny. I'll put the rope aroun' 
 his neck, myself, I will," cried the woman, uncannily 
 waving her arms. "I'm goin', now, to help 'em," and 
 the seeming irresponsible wreck of past joys and sorrows 
 flitted spectrally past Peter Braddock and on in the 
 wake of the sheriff's party, tossing her arms on high 
 with bent and bony fingers like a vulture or some other 
 bird of prey or ill omen descending upon the feast of 
 death. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A LYNCHING SYNDICATE SHORT ON DIVIDENDS. 
 
 "William White, twenty-five years of age, was the 
 son of one Samuel White, who, like Peter Braddock in 
 the case of De, had given William an education above 
 the average advantages which the times rendered cus- 
 tomary, or often possible, amongst farmers. White, 
 born in Indiana, had graduated from the Asbury Uni- 
 versity, at Greencastle, in his native State. William 
 White's father, William's sole surviving relative at the 
 time, dying, had left the young writer a living, barely 
 enough for one, in the rental of a small farm. The 
 young man was talented; but, as is not unusually the 
 ease, little understood in the neighborhood where his 
 earlier youth had been passed. 
 
 De's schooling had received the attention of a Miss 
 Primvale who, at the little town of T , accommo- 
 dated a limited number of boarders. 
 
 Brad Simons was, likewise, noted for his "book 
 Tarnin'." Like White, he had in early days made an 
 advanced experiment with the University, at Green- 
 castle; but the failure, prior to his own father's death, 
 of his parent's financial ability to continue his son's 
 educational course had prevented the young man's 
 graduation; and a certain indifference to leaving the 
 farm had left Brad Simons a grazier and a farmer; out 
 of which conditions he had repaired the fallen parental 
 fortunes and grown rich and prosperous, for his locality 
 and day. 
 
 178 
 
A LYNCHING SYNDICATE. 179 
 
 At this point, it is no matter of surprise, that, in 
 the course of human events, De Braddock and William 
 White should (unseen of Uncle Peter but seen of 
 Mother Braddock) meet on the day of the death of Zeke 
 Smithin, when Saturday buying had brought Peter 
 Braddock 's family to town. 
 
 Brad Simons encountered the lovers; and, as he 
 joined William White and De on one of the streets of the 
 country town, 
 
 "Miss De, I perceive is dallying wdth the Muse," he 
 lightly remarked, -wdth a secret sneer, which offered both 
 unquestionable offense to White, and flippant slight to 
 the girl. 
 
 "I believe," observed White, "the Muse deserted 
 you, at an earlier period of your career. ' ' It was a fair 
 thrust, and, in spite of himself, Brad colored. The cat- 
 tle trader had pride in books; and, despite his easy 
 going selfishness, at times experienced, as the passing of 
 shadow upon water, a vain regret in his broken college 
 career, which, however, he had never really cared or 
 desired to renew. 
 
 White's rival, in further uttered speech, ignored his 
 adversary's hit, although upon its reception he had 
 winced palpably. 
 
 "Miss De," he contented himself with saying, "I 
 have knowledge of some business in which your brother 
 John is deeply concerned. I am sure it will prove of 
 advantage for you to hear it, ' ' and Brad Simons, speak- 
 ing, made a movement as if to join the walk of the lin- 
 gering couple. 
 
 De Braddock hastily drew back from White, and 
 simultaneously from Brad himself, and looked quickly 
 and consciously into Simons' eyes peering into hers. 
 
 "I wish," returned she, "you would speak to my 
 father. ' ' 
 
180 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 It instantly flashed across White's mind, and with 
 truth, that one, if not the only, object Brad Simons had 
 was to separate De and himself. The writer, thus 
 moved, pleasantly and conciliatingly though self assert- 
 ively observed: 
 
 "Miss Braddock has requested you to see Mr. Brad- 
 dock, Mr. Simons," White spoke boldly, a trifle self 
 conscious in thus sharing De's duties of response, but, 
 otherwise, facing Brad Simons with an air of perfect 
 politeness and quiet, easy dignity. 
 
 "Who, may I ask," inquired Simons, with ill con- 
 cealed contempt, "constitutes you the romantically 
 heroic guardian of Miss Braddock 's affairs?" 
 
 "Mr. White," here interjected De, instinctively 
 taking her lover 's part, ' ' is my escort. ' ' 
 
 "As such," observed Mr. William White much re- 
 freshed and encouraged, and turning cheerfully to Brad 
 Simons, "may I again refer you to her father?" and 
 without more ado, and with no objection on the part of 
 the young lady, the for once victorious writer took the 
 girl of his heart by the arm and marched off. 
 
 Simons stood scowling and furious, watching the 
 two move do^vn the primitive street. His scowl deepened 
 as his gaze, shifting from the girl, rested upon the 
 triumphant figure of the man at her side. 
 
 "So, my young bantam," muttered the baffled man, 
 "you're up to that game, are you — open fight, eh?" He 
 ran his fingers over the close shut lips of his mouth, as 
 if in thought, and his face grew darker. ' ' I have cattle 
 in my pastures, that I would not sooner knock in the 
 head. I '11 stop that little game of yours, if it costs me a 
 life, and it won't be mine, either," pursued the menac- 
 ing and evil soliloquizer; and, obeying an involuntary 
 impulse, he started forward with an apparent intention 
 of following the retreating couple ; when, as if to facili- 
 
A LYNCHING SYNDICATE. 181 
 
 tate William's unceremonious dismissal of Brad's in- 
 convenient wooing, Parson Woods, at that moment, 
 came up and joined Simons, and unconsciously held him 
 in a discussion of the recent killing of Smithin, a topic, 
 by this time, engrossing the attention of the entire popu- 
 lation. During Parson Woods' grave and sober re- 
 marks, Brad saw William convey the girl surely and 
 steadily beyond the range of vision. 
 
 The lovers were returning from a ramble through 
 the woods. The scent of the forest was in their nostrils. 
 The sounds of the woodland were about them. Birds 
 chirped, fluttered and settled to glance upon the two as 
 they passed slowly beneath airy perches. The squirrel 
 stopped quick in his scuttle up the tree, scuttled short 
 and abruptly stopped again within his length — looked 
 innocently down, moved a little pace and waited for the 
 man and maid to go on in their rapturous way through 
 the dreamy old wood. 
 
 De paused now and then to cull a wild flower. 
 White chirped to the squirrel. A redbird whistled joy- 
 ously. 
 
 "De, I have never told you — " 
 
 ' ' Oh, see, William, that bit of red in the bushes, ' ' 
 and the redbird, surely filled with the glorious sense of 
 the splendor of his dress, swept in glad display from 
 the bush to the bough of a neighboring tree. 
 
 "Your — your father objects . . ." 
 
 He had never before spoken of his feeling for her, 
 and she knew he was about to do so now. She was 
 silent. 
 
 A faint shout was heard down the road, then an- 
 other ; and presently it grew upon their dim and enrapt 
 senses that a crowd of angry and excited people was 
 approaching on the highway, at the wood's edge not far 
 off. 
 
182 THE CAVERNS OP DAWN. 
 
 White's apprehensions, pointed by recent observa- 
 tion of the threatening aspect of the eager man hunters 
 in town, took alarm. 
 
 "De," he said hastily, "wait here a moment," and 
 detaining his companion by the arm, at the side of a 
 large oak, he made as if to start for the road. 
 
 "What is it?" exclaimed the other catching a feel- 
 ing of excitement from her undeclared lover's face, and 
 placing a restraining hand upon his. 
 
 "They'll lynch that man — they've caught him," 
 and White's grasp tightened on the girl's arm. 
 
 The voices, in the road, had become recognizable. 
 Bob Likkum's loud, piercing tones were heard: 
 
 "Now, fellers, see here — no harmin' the crittur! Jes' 
 wait — give the miz'ble skunk a fair trial." 
 
 Again, De's voice broke the silence of the two stand- 
 ing alone in the wood. 
 
 "William, what is it?" 
 
 "The man," answered White, with face tensely 
 turned in the direction of the road, "they suspect of 
 killing Zeke Smithin." 
 
 They stood and listened, and past the open wood 
 began to dart the figures of the mob, following each 
 other in rapid succession along the not distant high- 
 w^ay. 
 
 First came the unearthly, witch like figure of Rachel 
 Bolers dancing among those in the lead, her hair flying, 
 her arms extended and the ghostly drapery of her gar- 
 ments streaming around her. Jason Jump followed, 
 silently gliding in the midst of the rioters. Next, came 
 Bob Likkum's tall, angular form striding by; then came 
 more confused perceptions of a mixed and motley 
 gathering of shouting figures and flourishing arms. At 
 last, White was able to make out, for the briefest space, 
 the form of a man half walking and half dragged along 
 
A LYNCHING SYNDICATE. 183 
 
 the road by two custodians, one at either side, and 
 assisted from *the rear by the ever present and officious 
 Job Saunders. The watchers in the wood could see that 
 one of the two principal conductors of the prisoner was 
 the sheriff; the other, the political lawyer, who, even at 
 this crisis, had, once more, succumbed to the disease of 
 politics, and, with his eye fixed upon future political 
 preferment of his own, was vigorously haranguing the 
 multitude upon the merits and safety of law and order, 
 and the objectionable characteristics of any administra- 
 tion local, national, or Dahomian, that rendered possi- 
 ble this insecurity to "life, liberty and the pursuit of 
 happiness." It mattered little to the orator, — what 
 real, simon pure orator cares, — whether any one heard 
 him, or paid any attention to him, or not, — he heard 
 himself — that was sufficient. And, so, the mob of ex- 
 cited, overwrought, in some cases whiskey inflamed, and 
 in all cases vengeful and vindictive spirits dragged theit 
 victim on in the direction of town. 
 
 "White had scarcely time to vv'onder whether or not 
 the presence of the sheriff would make against violence, 
 when the last of the straggling crowd of men, boys and 
 even women and little children passed by his narrow 
 field of vision, and he heard a new shout from the rear. 
 
 "He's got Zeke's hat and gun, an' he's a triflin cuss, 
 and oughter be hanged, — take him out'n the sheriff's 
 hands, boys," and, thus, in the way of a snowball that 
 grows insensibly, was the threatening character of the 
 mob finally reaching rounded fullness and perfection. 
 
 White sprang forward in an uncontrollable impulse; 
 then stopped as suddenly. 
 
 "De," he exclaimed hurriedly, "can you find your 
 father and mother? I must — " 
 
 "William," replied the girl, "I am going with 
 you." 
 
184 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "But, De— " 
 
 "I am going with you." 
 
 The man and the girl sprang forward as if by a com- 
 mon impulse, and reached the fence in front of them 
 ■almost before the sound of their voices had ceased to 
 vibrate in the forest air. 
 
 ■ They saw the frenzied crowd, with Rachel Bolers ' 
 uncanny figure leading on ahead, dragging the captive 
 in its midst, hooting in the road above. One man, more 
 active than the rest, had shot past the others, gone 
 swiftly into a neighboring place, and, returning with a 
 rope, was crying the fatal meaning of the article in loud 
 and deadly tones. 
 
 White did not pause. Assisting his companion over 
 the fence, the writer followed, when the two set out to 
 overtake the mob. As they reached the straggling out- 
 skirts of the throng, the man with the rope pushed his 
 way through the crowd and grasped the prisoner by the 
 throat. 
 
 In the latter. White recognized, \\ith a start, the 
 tramp deserter from the outlaws, and his own scout. 
 
 It was noticeable that the captive, ragged and dirty 
 as of a certainty was his appearance, bore himself with 
 unmoved indifference and composure in the hands of his 
 formidable captors. His hat was off, his hair flying, his 
 face pale beneath the grime upon it, while the great 
 ragged scar on the forehead had grown livid under the 
 increased pallor of the skin, but he showed no signs of 
 craven fear. 
 
 To add to the increasing confusion which an attempt 
 to put a rope around the prisoner's neck had infused 
 into the gathering, Rachel Bolers, wildly throwdng her 
 arms above her head and circling like a bat among the 
 crowd, shrilly cried, 
 
 "Jack Ketch '11 ketch 'im, an' Jack Ketch '11 hang 
 
A LYNCHING SYNDICATE. 185 
 
 'im. Put a rope aroun' his neck, hang 'im; put a rope 
 aroun' his neck." 
 
 The sheriff promptly interfered, and spiritedly, if 
 unwisely, knocked the rope bearer down, as the latter, 
 fired by Rachel's wild and incoherent words, attempted 
 to do her insane bidding. 
 
 Instantly, and with equal despatch, someone knocked 
 the sheriff senseless, with the exclamation : 
 
 "Ye hit my brother, did ye!" and the politician- 
 lawyer and Parson Woods, the latter of whom had come 
 out from town in a vain attempt to side with law in the 
 person of the sheriff, were hustled beyond the limits of 
 the fighting mass. The insensible sheriff was quickly 
 carried by his friends into an adjacent farmhouse, 
 where efforts were made to restore him to consciousness. 
 
 These last events only increased the serious dangers 
 which threatened the prisoner, and the timely arrival of 
 William White, whose voice was heard clear and clarion 
 toned above the din, arrested for a moment the perilous 
 crisis. 
 
 "Look you, all," called White, and the lawyer and 
 parson made their way to the side of the aroused scribe, 
 * ' we are not going to stand by and see this thing done — 
 don 't think it. ' ' 
 
 "He had pore Zeke Smithin's gun an' hat," yelled a 
 man. 
 
 "I don't care," shouted White, "what he had — you 
 mtist take him to jail." 
 
 "We'll do ez w^e darn please," retorted a belligerent, 
 who, like a true descendant of '76, though in a highly 
 inflamed state of alcoholic independence, was resolved 
 to repudiate the restriction of his liberty, on the part of 
 anyone. 
 
 "Well, we'll see," cried White furiously, in his de- 
 
186 . THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 termination, and De Braddock looked at her lover, vdih 
 quick inspiration. 
 
 Bob Likkum, who had worked around to where the 
 lawyer, William White and Parson Woods stood in a 
 manner protecting De standing in the rear, said in a 
 quiet tone to White, 
 
 "Be keerful, Billy, don't rile 'em more'n ye kin 
 he'p, — thet thar' cussed Job Sa'nders 's bin a-workin' 
 of 'em up. 'Pears like that 'air feller," observed the 
 philosophic Bob, viewing the mob before him with a 
 cool and watchful eye the while, " 'u 'd ruther be in mis- 
 chief an' idleness, 'an eat. Look out!" cried Likkum, 
 grasping White's arm, and thus effectually restraining 
 a sudden movement of the writer to rush in among the 
 excited and would-be lynchers; "don't git into no 
 onnecessary trouble, — on'y make matters ^^Tls', — they's 
 half uv 'em putt' nigh corned weth Wabash whiskey," 
 and Bob Likkum, by superior strength, dragged White 
 back from dashing madly into the murderous crowd. 
 
 Jason Jump, in the throng, looked on, still silently. 
 
 "They've got the rope around his neck," exclaimed 
 White. 
 
 "See here, ye pesky varmints," shouted Likkum, 
 •attempting to elbow his way through to the man with 
 the rope, but to no avail, for Bob was forced back, and, 
 breathing hard, was ranged again at the side of the few 
 friends of law and order. 
 
 At one side of the road, was the broad, low stump of 
 a tree where, in some day of pre\ious road making a 
 large oak had been felled. Suddenly, without warning, 
 the wild and unruly gathering, as if by a common in- 
 stinct, swayed to the roadside, with the evident intention 
 of penetrating the wood and using the limb of a forest 
 tree for final and fatal conclusions. As the movement 
 began, De, with the daring purpose of addressing the 
 
A LYNCHING SYNDICATE. 187 
 
 mad swarm, sprang to the oak stump. The mob faced 
 the impromptu speaker stand as she, unnoticed by 
 White or the others, made for the woodland platform. 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" groaned Bob Likkum, oblivious with 
 the rest, of De's actions, and absorbed in his contempla- 
 tion of the odds against them; "a hundred to three on 
 us." 
 
 De had gained the stump. Springing lightly to the 
 top of it she raised her clear, young voice above the dis- 
 tracted din, and instant silence fell. 'Tis thus the nat- 
 ural orator, sure of the audience, grasps its feelings, 
 and, with no doubt or fear of results, bows and bends 
 and sways it to the will. Nor may it be a cause of won- 
 der, with the finished speaker, who brings long years of 
 experience and patient labor to the task of understand- 
 ing human nature and its varied emotions, together with 
 the springs which actuate all human conduct, — it is not 
 surprising that such a one might hold the interested 
 hearers in a grip of steel; but in the case of a girl, 
 young, not twenty, just from school, with nothing but a 
 sense of unerring right to sustain her, it was little short 
 of marvelous — miraculous, that the mad lynchers struck 
 attitudes of frozen, rigid attention in the very tracks in 
 which De's ringing voice had found them. 
 
 She could not have explained how the words came to 
 her, but come they did — sweeping on, making resonant 
 music by the wood, as of some forest cascade of glancing, 
 purest waters. Plunging fearlessly over impediments, 
 carrying all before it, came the flood of her heart's first 
 born address to cool and quiet her maddened hearers, 
 there. 
 
 "You! You men — you, who have hearts for home; 
 you, who love mother, father, your wives and children; 
 you, who may need justice, yourselves, some day; you, 
 that want to send this man," and her finger pointed 
 
188 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 unfalteringly at the captive, who, dust covered, blood 
 stained from the rough handling of the mob and gazing 
 in a species of wondering trance at the inspired counte- 
 nance of the girl in front of him, stood with the throng 
 forming his captors, — 'that would send this man to — 
 hell," said De bravely and unflinchingly, "where you 
 that do it, be sure, will follow, — you, — you, stay.'* 
 She had not only their attention by this time, but their 
 interest, as well. "There are those here who can decide 
 the justice of this man's case better than we," she con- 
 tinued with her finger still extended unwaveringly in 
 the direction of the prisoner, while she began to experi- 
 ence a strange, exhilarating sense of exultant joy in the 
 power that held the mob in check. "Let those, whose 
 business it is, have him. i\Ir. White, ]\Ir. Griscomb,'* 
 referring to the lawyer-politician, ' ' Mr. Likkum, Parson 
 Woods, and the sheriff, who has been cruelly struck 
 down in exercising his right to the man — 'they are the 
 cool and proper ones. Hold!" cried De, with upraised 
 hand, as she perceived an impatient unrest in the crowd. 
 
 At this moment, the restored sheriff determinedly 
 and courageously made his way to her side. 
 
 She had won; the intention of reckless and disor- 
 dered lawlessness had been arrested — broken; the mob^ 
 after a few politic words from the sheriff, quietly dis- 
 persed, — separated, melted imperceptibly away, — its 
 passions as quickly subsiding as they had arisen, and 
 with it as silently and mysteriously vanished Jason 
 Jump. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BRAD SIMONS IGNOMINIOUSLY COMES TO GRIEF, WHERE 
 SOME MIGHT THINK HE BELONGS. 
 
 Ann ^lariah Saunders, neat and prim, was waiting. 
 It was Saturday. Bob Likkum might be expected to 
 ride by any minute from his accustomed weekly visit to 
 
 the town of T . On this particular afternoon, for 
 
 some unaccountable reason, Bob's arrival was belated. 
 Ann glanced at the clock, in her scrupulously clean 
 "settin' room." The hour was half past three — a half 
 hour past the time at which, for seven happy years, these 
 two had met in Bob's passing, and silently plighted 
 their as yet unspoken faith — for seven more happy years 
 were they ready to do the same ! But what could it mean ? 
 Like the veiled Moorish woman, she had shrunk from 
 exposure, and waited through the years, in the cloister 
 of her retirement. Now, however, it was too much ; and 
 Ann rose restlessly from her chair, and went to the door. 
 As the Ann of story, who once watched for her knight, 
 she gazed wistfully adown the road for her love. There, 
 at the door, the watcher drew a quick, happy sigh of re- 
 lief, for here he came for whom she watched. Sir Robert 
 Likkum, astride of his roan, rode up to the house. 
 
 Hitching his horse to the fence, Likkum, as though 
 some mutual understanding could be expected to exist 
 between himself and Ann relating to his slight delay in 
 arrival, said, as he tugged at the end of the hitch strap 
 after tying the knot, 
 
 "Heerd about it, did ye?" 
 
 189 
 
190 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Bob, what on earth do you mean? I ain't heard 
 anything, — what ? " 
 
 "Wy, now, you don't say! About tryin' — them 
 fellers a-tryin' to lynch the man — but," broke off Bob, 
 suddenly, "don't reckon you heerd 'bout Zeke Smithin 
 gittin' killed, either, then?" 
 
 "No. Oh! Robert, was pore Zeke Smithin killed?" 
 exclaimed Ann Mariah. 
 
 "Shore an' certain," replied Bob who, by this time, 
 had completed to his satisfaction the knot that tied his 
 horse to the fence, and who removed his hat and wiped 
 his perspiring brow. 
 
 "Oh! Robert, do tell me, — how— how did it hap- 
 pen?"" ejaculated Ann Mariah with startled little cries. 
 
 Bob Likkum recounted what had, that day, tran- 
 spired concerning the death of Zeke Smithin. 
 
 "And," wound up Bob comfortably, "they fin'ly 
 got the feller tuh jail." 
 
 It was here deemed only proper by Ann to invite 
 Robert into the house, which she did; and, once more, 
 was as the Moorish lady of the veil. She, thereupon, 
 following the usual feminine method, seated Bob and 
 herself, took her sewing, and became mysteriously re- 
 mote. 
 
 "Well, now, jes' you look," exclaimed Bob Likkum, 
 admiringly, "at that there sowin' o' yourn! 's white an 
 delicate ez snow." 
 
 "Think it's pretty, do ye?" observed the needle- 
 woman, with a shade of coquetry. 
 
 "Jes' like yer own spotless life," replied Likkum, 
 who was equal, in his own way, to the very best things 
 William White ever wrote. "I say, Ann Mariah," and 
 Bob cleared his throat; the object of his address 
 trembled — it had the sound of "something coming;" 
 
BRAD SIMONS COMES TO GRIEF. 191 
 
 "ye see, we — you and me — have know'd each other, now, 
 quite a spell." 
 
 "Yes, Robert," said the simple hearted woman, "I 
 was just thinkin', yisti'day — " 
 
 Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
 
 The saddest are these: It might have been!'" 
 
 The lines of the poet Whittier supply the words of 
 the present author, and do not convey the speech of Ann 
 Mariah, At this moment, Parson Woods stopped his 
 sorrel at the Saunders' gate. Ann had listened to the 
 approaching hoofbeats for some seconds; and, with a 
 sigh that would have been impatient in another, but in 
 her was only resigned, she rose and went to the door. 
 
 "Good day," called the parson, cheerily. "How's 
 times with you ? ' ' 
 
 "Nicely, parson, nicely, thankee," rejoined Ann 
 Mariah who, by this time, had smoothed out all traces 
 of displeasure from her placid and contented face, — ' ' be 
 ye going to 'light (alight) ?" 
 
 The parson, today, was riding horseback, — the 
 "shay" was having a rest, and offering no further temp- 
 tation to highwaymen and footpads. 
 
 "Think I shall," said the minister; and, after tying 
 the sorrel alongside of Bob's saddle horse, followed Ann 
 Mariah into the house. 
 
 "Robert, I certainly ought to encourage your go- 
 ings-on," said Parson Woods, with agreeable though, 
 perhaps, rather daring insinuation coming from a pro- 
 fessional minister, as he spied Bob Likkum sitting in 
 graceful abandon on the sofa; while the blushing Ann 
 Mariah stood, with her back to the two men, busying 
 herself with her face bent over her work basket on the 
 table,— "just in my line," with good natured joviality 
 
192 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 continued the speaker. "Bob, you must make it a 
 mighty good fee, in such an attractive case." 
 
 "Law! parson, how you do talk," cried Ann, not 
 really displeased at this from the preacher, but whose 
 blushes were certainly in no way diminished by the 
 pleasantly and genially aimed speech of their beloved 
 and implicitly trusted pastor. Likkiim continued to 
 gaze upon the premises with most becoming and self 
 possessed unconcern. 
 
 Ann hospitably bustled about, \\ath an additional 
 and quiet alacrity ; placed a welcome chair for their vis- 
 itor, and employed herself in the making of the minister 
 comfortable and at home; and they were all soon very 
 cozy and at their ease. 
 
 "Most wonderful thing I ever heard of, about De 
 Braddock stopping that mob," continued the parson, 
 sociably extending the conversation. "Did you ever 
 hear the like ! ' ' said he, his memory glowing with the 
 recollection of De's act. The minister, together with 
 every other man and every woman and child in the town 
 hard by, whence he had just ridden, had been fired with 
 the knowledge, while sharing with many the actual 
 sight, of the girl's extraordinary behavior. "That girl," 
 pursued the preacher enthusiastically, "could preach 
 the gospel to the heathen." 
 
 "Reckon that's about right, parson," said Likkum. 
 
 "/ should have died," said Ann Mariah. 
 
 "Reckon few women would have been equal to it," 
 assented the minister. "Did you hear, Robert, about 
 Tom before you left town, to-day?" inquired Parson 
 Woods. 
 
 "Tom — who, parson?" queried Bob. 
 
 "John Braddock 's paid off a note to Brad Simons; 
 and it's leaked out that it's that note's what Simons has 
 been holding against Tom Bolers and John Braddock. 
 
BRAD SIMONS COMES TO GRIEF. 193 
 
 Someone got it down to town, that Bolers, not long ago, 
 forged Brad Simons' name, and, in order to keep Brad 
 from sending Tom — you know John stands by his wife's 
 brother, and you can't blame him for it, — in order to 
 keep Brad from sending Tom to the penitentiary, John 
 gave his note to Brad Simons for the sum which Tom got 
 on the forgery." 
 
 "So Brad won't prosycute, eh?" said Likkum, get- 
 ting a little more out of his lazy position and sitting 
 somewhat straighter on the sofa. 
 
 "Seems not," returned the minister. 
 
 "Wuz that all John Braddock promised, ef Brad 
 Simons 'u 'd let up on Tom Bolers ? ' ' questioned Likkum. 
 
 "Didn't hear anything else," replied the parson. 
 
 "I suppose," continued Bob, "ye knows that 'air 
 Brad is pow 'rf ul sweet on John 's sister De ? " 
 
 "Why, no, Likkum, I can't say that I do," was the 
 parson's interested rejoinder. 
 
 "Well, he is, an' that's the milk in the cokynut," 
 concluded Bob emphatically. 
 
 "Parson," obser^-ed Ann Mariah in this suggestive 
 connection, "will you and Robert have a glass of butter- 
 milk?" 
 
 The offer was accepted. 
 
 "You think John — ?" began the pastor inquiringly, 
 when Ann Mariah 's shrewd swain interrupted him. 
 
 ' ' Don 't think John uz conshus uv anything ; but that 
 'air Brad Simons 'u'd let Tom off to git 'em all under 
 obligashuns to 'im, fur his own selfish eends. Brad, I sez, 
 ain't ther man ter he'p anyone without a pow'rfuller 
 motive 'an love uv naybor, consarn him ! beggin ' yer 
 pardon, parson," said Bob Likkum. 
 
 "You think, then," observed Parson Woods, "that 
 Simons is meaning to hold this forgery over De through 
 her affection for John?" 
 
194 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Don't think," replied Bob intuitively — "I know.'* 
 
 "Well, laws me!" ejaculated Ann Mariah darting to 
 the door, "here, I do 'low," she went on in tones of 
 pleased surprise and hospitality, ' ' 's Missis Braddock, 
 an' De, and Uncle Peter," and, in fact, nearing the gate, 
 as Ann reached the door, was visible a big red farm 
 wagon (Uncle Peter had not yet grown fashionable to 
 the extent of a surrey) , with De, radiant after her sing- 
 ular triumph over the mob, sitting by the side of Mother 
 Braddock on the rear seat. Uncle Peter was driving, 
 with the fat farmboy Esau on the seat in front, — Uncle 
 Peter, on all occasions when present, invariably and 
 dogmatically insisting on, himself, performing the func- 
 tion of a driver, evidencing a characteristic obstinacy 
 which veined his entire nature with great satisfaction to 
 himself. 
 
 "Howdee, Missis Braddock," called Ann, cordially, 
 from the door, — "howdee, Uncle Peter, — howdee, De. 
 Hitch — come right in, won't ye? Awful hot, — glass o' 
 cool buttermilk er, maybe. Uncle Peter 'd like a glass uv 
 cider?" Ann Mariah, having reached this conclusion to 
 her simple address of hospitality and welcome, waited, 
 with sunny confidence, the results. 
 
 Uncle Peter cried, 
 
 "Whoa," opposite the gate. 
 
 And Mother Braddock exclaimed, 
 
 "I do declare!" 
 
 And De said, smilingly, 
 * ' Ann Mariah, if you can give me a drink of water — ' ' 
 
 When Ann, now bent upon entertaining man, wo- 
 man, beast or child of the neighborhood, interrupted 
 with, 
 
 "Git right out, — right out," and that settled it. 
 
 The team was hitched, with Parson Woods' and Bob 
 Likkum's riding horses for company, and Mother Brad- 
 
BRAD SIMONS COMES TO GRIEF. 195 
 
 dock and De and Uncle Peter, not forgetting Esau, the 
 fat farmboy, all entered the cool and refreshing haven 
 of Miss Saunders' pretty, vine-covered cottage. 
 
 Heat and thirst allayed, 
 
 "Mother Braddock," said Parson Woods, his 
 straightforward nature rebelling at what he had just 
 heard from Likkum of the possibility of Simons' selfish 
 dealings respecting the winning of De, "we have heard 
 of the fortunate conclusion of the affair of John's inter- 
 est in — " the parson hesitated. He believed, however, 
 in as little secrec}'' as w^ent with decency and proceeded, 
 "We have heard of the happiness of John in settling — " 
 
 "Parson, I guess you're right — no use makin' a 
 peskj^ skeleton in the closet of the matter," interrupted 
 Uncle Peter deliberately; "an' so I tells mother, an' 
 thanks you hearty." 
 
 "I wanted to tell you both, Uncle Peter, said the 
 pastor, "that we are glad everything is happily settled 
 relating to Tom Bolers. " 
 
 "No one is gladder than I am," said Brad Simons, 
 who had reached the door unperceived, and who had 
 heard enough to divine the subject of the conversation 
 that had just transpired. 
 
 The cattleman, following the payment that daj'', by 
 John Braddock, of the latter 's note in the Bolers' affair, 
 had given further scheming and resolute consideration 
 to his own designs on De Braddock. Like all selfish and 
 unscrupulous persons, Brad Simons was not disposed to 
 abandon an object on which he had set his heart. The 
 more he reflected, as he rode up from town on this day, 
 the more, inflamed to such a pitch had grown his pas- 
 sions, did he fall into a craze of longing for the beautiful 
 country girl. So that, when, perceiving Uncle Peter's 
 Avagon hitched at Ann Mariah's door, he reached the 
 
196 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Saunders' cottage, his determination to obtain his de- 
 sires had become as a fate. 
 
 The note had been taken up before the date of its 
 maturity; and something told the cattleman that there 
 was an element of unusual irregularity about this sud- 
 den and unlooked for satisfaction of his financial de- 
 mands upon John Braddoek. What was that element? 
 Had not John Braddoek threatened to kill Zeke Smith- 
 in ? Zeke was knowTi to have won at play. And permit- 
 ting a flow of recollection relating to the recent tragedy 
 to tinge the atmosphere of his unhealthy mental views, 
 Simons had reached the doorway at the climax of Parson 
 Woods' humane speech. 
 
 Gazing watchfully and intently about him, Brad, 
 without waiting for an invitation, entered the room 
 where sat the assembled guests of Ann Mariah Saunders. 
 
 "Parson Woods," said the Hoosier grazier as he 
 entered, and smiling genially on those present, "I am 
 delighted to hear you expressing sentiments that do you 
 honor. Now that poor Tom Boler's misfortune has be- 
 come community property," Simons himself had cun- 
 ningly set the tale afloat when, payment of the note 
 having been made, he saw he could gain more by the 
 community's knowledge of his previous forbearance, — 
 "now," continued Brad, "that the matter has become 
 community property, I don't mind saying the money, 
 which only pressing necessity made me accept from 
 John," (-this sounded plausible), "has been paid, and 
 there is no harm done. Ann Mariah, I'm sure that but- 
 termilk is good," smoothly continued the ready plotter 
 pointing to a plain, old fashioned glass pitcher, through 
 the transparent and gleaming sides of which the gener- 
 ous beverage in question could be seen. 
 
 Ann ^lariah, who cordially disliked Brad Simons, 
 
BRAD SIMONS COMES TO GRIEF. 197 
 
 was left here no alternative but to press upon his accept- 
 ance a draught of the refreshment at hand. 
 
 Bob Likkum had been eying the late arrival with no 
 great favor. Now, at this turn of events, he quietly 
 drawled, 
 
 "■ Putty weak fur your tipple, ain't it. Brad?" 
 
 Bob was a personage, one of the few objects, indeed, 
 that Brad Simons really feared. The direct truth and 
 human fairness of the man always set Simons' teeth on 
 edge. He made no reply to Likkum 's sally, deeming, in 
 an encounter with the famous "Wabash humorist, dis- 
 cretion to be the better part of valor. 
 
 Brad quaffed his buttermilk composedly enough; 
 and, De slipping out of the house to pluck a nosegay 
 from Ann JNIariah's gardens, he waited a moment for 
 Parson Woods to launch one of his mild persuasions 
 against the evils of intemperance; when Likkum, 
 whose own fad was the subject of "a wholesome modera- 
 tion," becoming absorbed in the parson's remarks, 
 Simons glided out among the flower beds in pursuit of 
 the sister of John Braddock. 
 
 "Miss Braddock," said the farmer-grazier as he 
 joined the young girl, "trying to gild the lily? Floral 
 or other decoration hardly increases such loveliness as 
 yours," the man's hot glance was full on her face. 
 
 While De Braddock was advised, through recent 
 happenings, that circumstances pointed to a release of 
 John from all obligations to Brad Simons, yet there was 
 something indefinable in the situation that seemed to 
 render it impossible for her to break the spell of an un- 
 pleasant interview, and seek her preference in the house 
 with her father and mother. Perhaps it was only an 
 instinct, on her part, to treat the speaker with courtesy 
 that kept her there. She, likewise, remembered his act 
 in rescuing her at the fire. So, now, she merely smiled 
 
198 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 as she continued to cull her nosegay, and her smile was 
 of that non-commital kind that guarded the operator 
 from too open or direct further attack of the objection- 
 able masculine overtures. 
 
 "De, " said Brad Simons advancing close to the girl's 
 side, and touching with the tips of his burning fingers 
 her trembling hand, which she instantly withdrew, "do 
 you know, to me, you are the most beautiful — " 
 
 ' ' I have told you it was useless for you to address me 
 this way," said De firmly. 
 
 "But you must hear me," urged Brad. 
 
 ' ' I cannot, ' ' repeated the girl determinedly. 
 
 "You shall," said Simons brutally, forgetting him- 
 self. 
 
 "Mr. Simons," replied the object of his address, fix- 
 ing upon the unpleasing countenance bending over her 
 a steady look from her large, clear, brown eyes, "you 
 will oblige me by stepping out of my way," all thought 
 of everything but repugnance asserting itself. 
 
 The two stood for a moment, each with eyes trying 
 to control the other's will, when De's strong, innocent 
 young gaze proved the superior, and Simons, breathing 
 a little more quickly than usual, moved, as if by an in- 
 voluntary impulse, to the side of the path. 
 
 ' ' Thank you, ' ' said the girl simply, and passed on. 
 
 "Do you know," asked Brad Simons in a low tone 
 of unmistakably evil insinuation, as his companion made 
 evident purpose to proceed at once to the house, ' ' where 
 your brother got the money to pay me?" It was a 
 chance thrust of the man, and wrung from him in des- 
 peration as he saw, in her determined repudiation of 
 him, a prospect of final defeat. It touched her with no 
 doubt of the honesty of her brother's methods in obtain- 
 ing the price of release from the consideration of 
 Simons; but, again, and this time no politeness infused 
 
BRAD SIMONS COMES TO GRIEF. 199 
 
 any element into the position of affairs, she was instinct- 
 ively halted in her footsteps. The restraint placed upon 
 her progress by the man's tone had, with other things, 
 certainly implied a threat from that man to her. This 
 alone may, at first, have operated to cause her to pause ; 
 but there was something else which caused her to hesi- 
 tate; and Simons found out what it was to outrage or 
 attempt to outrage the feelings of a sister loving as 
 tenderly as she did the absent and insulted brother. The 
 double implication in Simons' question, though unex- 
 plained, was as a flash of lightning conveyed to her, and 
 like an explosion, when a lighted fuse is at the powder 
 magazine, was the quick response. 
 
 "What do you mean?" she exclaimed, wheeling on 
 him. 
 
 Simons could not have uttered his thoughts — his 
 meaning — had his life depended upon an answer in 
 detail. 
 
 He knew John Braddock had threatened to kill Zeke 
 Smithin. He knew Zeke had been killed. And he knew 
 Smithin was supposed to have had money on his person 
 when death arrived. He knew the money was missing 
 from the body of the dead man, when the solemn end of 
 the gambler was first discovered, — this was what he had 
 to prompt the unfeeling blow he had dealt his victim. 
 Even had he known more, it is possible that the fierce 
 unflinching courage and scorn in the girl's face, which 
 increased and overwhelmed him to the last, had, at the 
 final moment, sent him abashed and overthrown from 
 her presence, for her look withered him and grew and 
 continued to burn and blast his soul. He knew, at that 
 moment, nothing save his own distorted suspicions, and 
 stood doubly silenced before the offended goddess. 
 
 ' ' You would cast some suspicion on my brother John, 
 
200 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 and threaten me, at the same time ! ' ' blazed De Brad- 
 dock. 
 
 Brad, who had not been present at the attempted 
 lynching, and whose belief in the part taken in it by 
 De — a belief based upon a doubt of woman's sufficiency 
 of courage in general — had been of a somewhat weak 
 and skeptical nature, now learned what was the spirit, 
 force and power in the girl that had quelled the mob. 
 He could not remove his gaze from those flaming eyes, 
 or then and there he would have laid do^^^l his case and 
 willingly taken to his waiting horse and ridden away — 
 ridden away to his cattle and books, and, mayhap, who 
 knows? to the ultimate wedded proprietorship of Mona, 
 the pretty housekeeper. His lips grew dry, and he found 
 himself trying to moisten them with his parched tongue. 
 He smiled a sickly half smile of weak apprehension. 
 
 "You, — you, — why, you coward!" cried the justly 
 incensed girl, white and red by turns. "You, — why, 
 you, — shall I call the men ? ' ' said she, abruptly breaking 
 off in her scathing denunciation. ' ' ]\Ien ! what for ? — not 
 to encounter a man, for you're not one. Why, Brad 
 Simons, you're not worthy to be in the same world with 
 my brother John, or — with me," she added with a quick 
 perception of the most effective application of the last 
 whistling cut of the rawhide in her words. 
 
 Brad involuntarily threw up his hands in front of his 
 face, and bent his head, as if warding off a veritable lash 
 from a real whip. He was pale and trembling, and an 
 oozy, clammy moisture was breaking out on face and 
 body. 
 
 "Get out of the yard, before I set the dog on you," 
 and, as though anticipating the need of his services, a 
 low growl was heard at the rear of the furious girl, 
 where, unnoticed, the Braddock Newfoundland, that 
 invariably followed the family to town and home agaiUj 
 
BRAD SIMONS COMES TO GRIEF. 201 
 
 had crept, and was undeniably prepared to protect his 
 mistress. "Go," said the girl, authoritatively, to the 
 humiliated and defeated man, in a tone which brooked 
 no refusal ; and Brad Simons turned, with a muttered 
 imprecation ; left the yard ; mounted his horse, and rode 
 away. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE HAUNTED WOOD. 
 
 A woman, mowing and mumbling over a fire of dried 
 twigs and withered leaves, sat upon the greensward in 
 a sequestered glen among the trees growing thickly 
 about her. The twilight had just expired leaving its last 
 crimson trace upon the west. The shadows in the wood 
 deepened beneath the flickering firelight. The woman 
 was alone. Ever and anon she thrust back from her wild, 
 deep lined face the long hair hanging in loose strings 
 about her ears. Her skin had become blackened and 
 tanned by constant exposure to the elements, and her 
 eyes burned with a hollow fierceness, gleaming, in the 
 firelight, like those of some wild animal. As she threw 
 back her hair with a querulous, impatient tmtching of 
 the gnarled, bony fingers, she would glance swiftly and 
 covertly at the outlying gloom showing beyond the line 
 of light cast by the fire and confusing the surrounding 
 forest in a mass of blurred shadow. She moved rest- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Alone, — all alone," she muttered. "But I'll bring 
 the spirits — the brave, bold spirits, — yes, I will. They'll 
 talk to me. — 
 
 O where are the hearts of yestere'en, 
 
 And th' loves of long- ago '? 
 The grass on their graves is bonny green, 
 
 And the shadows come and go," 
 
 202 
 
THE HAUNTED WOOD. 203 
 
 crooned the female, a gleam of wild and fitful sadness in 
 her sunken eyes, 
 
 "An' th' shadows come and go. 
 
 I'll raise the spirits," she wildly repeated. 
 
 The sybil-crone, spectral, unearthly, rose gradually 
 to her feet, at the same time waving her thin and emaci- 
 ated hands fantastically over the fire. Her right hand 
 sought a light wooden staff resting upon the ground at 
 her side, and, now quite erect, she passed it, with a 
 peculiar, ghostly motion, through the air above the blaze. 
 Her gaze became fixed, as in a kind of rapt trance, upon 
 the point in space which her wand had just feverishly 
 traversed. She stood toweringly upright, uttering some 
 kind of supernal, unearthly incantations, and the rod 
 she still held within her grasp sank slowly to her side 
 and rested its one end upon the ground v/hile, at the 
 other, was her hand clasped closely about it. The long, 
 thin, bony claw like finger of the left hand, with her 
 arm outstretched, pointed at the empty atmosphere, as 
 she spoke in wild, strange accents, invoking the spirits 
 of the air : 
 
 Spirits evil, spirits fair, — 
 Those that tell us what we are, — 
 Those that warn and those that rail, 
 Tell they best and worst, or fail ! " 
 
 The smoke from the forest fire mingled slowly with 
 the air about the uncanny female, and, as she swayed in 
 a sort of weird, rhythmic motion, from side to side, a 
 grotesque form appeared to come over the vapors rising 
 out of the flames. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" she laughed sharply and shrilly; ''they 
 come — they come." 
 
 "What say you?" she cried, after a pause. "I hear 
 
204 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ye. Whut is't? Aye, aye. Go on. Go on. I alius 
 thought so. Ye whisper warnin's 'bout Brad Simons, 
 an' pretty De, an'," the strange mad creature paused, 
 with a look of real and startled understanding in her 
 seamed and rugged face, — ' ' what 's that ? ' ' she breathed 
 in a subdued, awe filled voice. ' ' Ye say, — ha ! Hank ? — • 
 Yes, yes, whut uv him? 'Beware De Braddock, er — ' 
 well, well, well? — " she screamed impatiently, but the 
 chain of connections, which had held thus far the im- 
 passioned and frenzied invoker of the immaterial world, 
 had snapped. She sank exhausted, by the fire. After a 
 bit, she looked wearily around. 
 
 "What keeps 'em so long, I wonder. I guess I'm 
 crazy," said the poor thing, passing her hand uncer- 
 tainly and pitifully over her worn face. "I know, at 
 times, I have something 'at sets my head a-goin' like 's 
 if 'twuz on wheels. But, I reckon, they's other times I 
 knows ez much ez anyone. I wish them times 'u'd stay 
 longer, an' I could tell 'em all whut I knows. Folks kin 
 look out w'en them times comes ter stay." The forlorn 
 creature nodded her head many times over the fire, and 
 placed a supply of fuel on the flames. 
 
 "Here, ye ol' rip," said a rough voice suddenly, be- 
 hind her, ' ' what you puttin ' a spell on now, huh ? ' ' 
 
 The woman started violently. She turned with a 
 swift motion on the newcomer. 
 
 "Much a brute ez ever, Hank, ben't ye?" retorted 
 she, pushing back her hair and gazing intently and 
 piercingly up into the black-bearded face above her. "I 
 ain't alius crazy — wisht I wuz. Then I wouldn't go w^ld 
 a-thinkin' — a thinkin' " 
 
 * ' A-thinkin ' whut charmin ' kumpny I be °? Ha ! ha ! 
 — is that it?" laughed Hank. 
 
 ' ' I dunno — I dunno, ' ' muttered the woman ; " I dun- 
 
THE HAUNTED WOOD. 205 
 
 no whut 'tis, I'm sure ... Is them di'munds in 
 yer hair, Hank?" she inquired with placid abruptness. 
 
 Beneath their coarser air there had appeared a touch 
 of affection ; and now the man, patting the other gently 
 on the head, said humoringly, 
 
 "Never mind about the di'munds, mother. I kin 
 help ye get even with Brad Simons, though." 
 
 "Kin ye bring justice on him — kin ye ? Kin ye bring 
 Brad Simons to justice?" exclaimed Rachel Bolers 
 aroused to a sudden uncontrollable fierceness of manner. 
 
 "De Braddock — " began her companion, when 
 Rachel broke out in unfeigned alarm, 
 
 "De Braddock — De Braddock!" she screamed, her 
 highly wrought and inflamed faculties seizing upon the 
 results of her recent wild incantations; — "leave 'er be, 
 Hank; leave 'er be. She'll be yer death. Leave' er be." 
 
 "Ye crazy vixen, what d'ye mean?" ejaculated 
 Hank. 
 
 "The fates reads yer doom in the daughter uv ol* 
 Peter Braddock," cried the woman. "The spirits says 
 ye '11 die." 
 
 "Then, I'll come back and ha'nt ye," retorted the 
 robber, with grim humor. 
 
 "Don't say it — don't say it — the fates reads it — the 
 fates reads yer doom." 
 
 ' ' They do, do they ? ' ' grinned the outlaw. 
 
 "Ye remember, hereafter, whut I tells ye," eagerly 
 and earnestly implored the overwrought hag. 
 
 "Yes, I'll remember," rejoined Black Hank, sar- 
 donically. "I'll, same time, remember th' moon's made 
 uv green cheese. I jes' heerd, terday," continued he 
 meaningly, at the same time narrowly watching his (com- 
 panion's pitifully beseeching countenance, "that Brad 
 Simons wants to marry De Braddock. " 
 
 "I'll help ye kill him fu'st," shrieked the frantic 
 
206 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 woman, "He's a villain who lies and deceives helpless 
 wimen, that 's what he is. ' ' 
 
 "Humph!" grunted Black Hank in his beard; 
 "reckon thet's about it. Rachel, did Brad Simons wrong 
 your daughter Nance?" queried the outlaw, sternly . 
 
 The suspicious creature looked up cunningly, in the 
 manner of the deranged. 
 
 "I'll tell ye, ef ye kin makes justice law and law 
 justice." 
 
 "I hed 'em fetch yer things frum yer gal Nance. 
 Put 'em down," added the robber leader, turning to one 
 of the band who, at that moment, came into the glade 
 carrying a goodly-sized bundle over his shoulder. 
 "Nance 'magines yer very comfortable at ther nayber's, 
 where ye leads her to think ye stay most uv the time," 
 said Black Hank, returning his attention to Rachel. 
 
 "Don't ye say nothin' 'bout my da'ter Nance," 
 flashed out the other. "Don't ye do it. She's a good 
 gal, no matter what folks say, tho ' I do give her heaps o ' 
 trouble." 
 
 "I ain't sayin' nothin' 'g'in' yer gal, ye ongrateful 
 animal. Nex ' time, I '11 leave yer ol ' traps where I found 
 'em." 
 
 "Hank, dearie, I didn't mean nothin'. No. I didn't. 
 Ye 're reel kind," said the woman penitently, "and I'm 
 much obleeged to ye. ' ' 
 
 Accepting the earnest expression of these tokens of 
 appreciation Mdth a gracious growl, the outlaw chieftain 
 and his confederate, the late arrival, withdrew for coun- 
 Bel, seating themselves upon the ground a short distance 
 from the fire. 
 
 "I've got it in the box. It was among ther things on 
 deposit, when we cracked the bank. We kin make Brad 
 Simons pay heavy fur it, ef he tries ter cut up his tricks 
 marryin' De Braddock; and I think I kin make it still 
 
THE HAUNTED WOOD. 207 
 
 heavier weth what Rachel Bolers 's got in her crazy, 
 knowin' ol' head." Black Hank was speaking, where 
 the two outlaws were conferring earnestly in low tones, 
 and to all appearances unnoticed by Rachel. 
 
 But the stooped figure over the fire had overheard. 
 
 "So," she muttered, "they got it outen the bank, 
 what '11 help git even with Brad. It's in the box, is it — 
 it's in the box!" 
 
 Of a sudden, Rachel straightened her bent form, and, 
 extending her arm and long ghostly finger, cried, 
 "Look!" 
 
 ' ' What is it ye see, ye crittur, can 't ye ever tell 1 ' ' 
 growled the chief, gi\ang, in his knowledge of the way- 
 wardness of the woman's fanciful moods, but a slight 
 passing scrutiny in the direction in which she had 
 pointed. Black Hank's inattention appeared justified. 
 Nothing was visible seeming to call for such forcible 
 notice. 
 
 "They think, in the country 'round, 'at the woods is 
 ha'nted. They think I kin put ha'nts and spells on 'em. 
 They know I come here, an ' they keep away. They think 
 the woods is ha'nted," crooned the possessed female. 
 
 There was a stir somewhere in a thicket bordering the 
 glen. 
 
 "I see things, ' ' intoned the vroman ; " I see 'em. 
 
 There was another stir in the thicket. 
 
 "They're alive with 'em, — the trees an' flowers an' 
 all the little bushes are kivered with 'em, an' they're 
 a-dancin' in the moonlight." 
 
 A pair of eyes peered from out the thicket. 
 
 "Oh, say," cried the outlaw leader, "shut up, cain't 
 ye?" 
 
 "There they 'air, — the fairies, elves an' pixies, an' 
 th' wee broA\Tiies. " 
 
 Black Hank, of an eminently practical turn of mind, 
 
208 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 rumpled his heavy shock of black hair with a gesture of 
 hopelessness, and gave up in despair. 
 
 "The moonlight — the moonlight!" cried Rachel. 
 ''Thar' 's the spirit uv justice, in the moonlight." 
 
 "What's that?" abruptly exclaimed the outlaw chief, 
 looking around with a start. "Shucks! guess it's a wild- 
 cat stirrin'. They see one, yisterday. Hen," went on 
 the leader -wdth darkling suspicion, and addressing his 
 male companion in vice, "I'd like to know whutever be- 
 kum uv thet thar' tramp, that time, 'at j 'ined ther gang, 
 an' then lit out. I know I wuz a darn fool ter trust 
 him," the man hastened to add, with apologetic humili- 
 ty, as though anticipating criticism of his suggested dis- 
 play of confidence, "but he kindo' caught me on the 
 blind side like." 
 
 Hen, who had lighted a pipe and was smoking in a 
 mood of contented acceptance of the various phases of 
 this present life and the life past and the life to come, 
 blew a cloud of smoke and let it go at that. 
 
 "I see jewels a-hangin' in the trees, an' a-gleamin' in 
 the bushes," cried the wild female of the wood. Two 
 keen, piercing eyes quickly vanished from an opening in 
 a neighboring thicket, whence they had been stealthily 
 peering. "I sees," rambled on the strange woman, 
 "gold bubbles in the air," her voice took on a chanting 
 rhythm. ' ' I hears voices of the spirits in the forest, and 
 the footsteps — " she strained her hearing, for a moment, 
 at the adjacent bush, where had, but a moment since, 
 gleamed the eyes — "the footsteps of angels in the 
 clouds. ' ' 
 
 Her companions, at last, seemed to have forgotten 
 the erratic creature's presence or existence, and were 
 absorbed in low voiced conversation. 
 
 "I could elect Ben Grigscomb to congress," Black 
 Hank was saying. 
 
THE HAUNTED WOOD. 209 
 
 ' ' What good would that do ? " asked the other. 
 
 ''We'd manage to help ourselves," retorted the rob- 
 ber leader, with a peculiar emphasis. "I've had some 
 experience in politics, ' ' there was a curious smile on the 
 man's face, which made his countenance resemble that 
 of a dangerous and untamed animal showing its teeth in 
 a menacing snarl. 
 
 "Say, Hank, tell us something. No one knows any- 
 thing uv ye, nohow. Where 'd ye kum from ? ' ' the ques- 
 tioner fell back in sudden and unfeigned alarm. His 
 companion leaned forward with a sudden fierce lunge 
 and seized a burning brand from Rachel's fire. He 
 spasmodically thrust this, blazing, almost into the other's 
 face. 
 
 "When you burn, you'll know; not before." The 
 brand was tossed, without further speech, back into the 
 flames, where the outlaw chieftain watched it blaze, with 
 a heavy, lowering scowl upon his dark and bitter face. 
 
 "But, Hank, " 
 
 The captain of the outlaws half drew a revolver. He 
 recollected himself; thrust it back into his pocket. He 
 nodded menacingly and significantly at his associate; 
 and was never questioned again. 
 
 The dismayed and baffled companion of the outlaw 
 leader, following this singular outburst of disordered 
 frenzy, from his chief,, sat in silence, while the other, 
 for the time and lost to his surroundings, brooded by the 
 fire. The lawless chieftain lay stretched, at full length, 
 before the flames, and, \vith his elbows set hard in the 
 ground and his chin supported in his tensely drawn 
 fingers, was gazing intently into the blaze, — the firelight 
 casting a dull, red glow upon his dark, swarthy, bearded 
 features. 
 
 "Where did he Gome from?" the question might 
 never, again, in his lifetime, be brought home to the 
 
210 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 mysterious and noted outlaw; "but where, indeed, had 
 he come from, — and what had driven him to this!" 
 filtered through his mind, as in an unspoken soliloquy. 
 "His claim upon a government for justice, refused; he, 
 himself, in his righteous demands, set aside, on behalf of 
 corrupt and dishonest interests — passed by for base, un- 
 fair political favoritism; slighted, scoffed at, jeered, 
 scorned and treated with contempt, — where, truly, had 
 he come from, and what had driven him to this ! The 
 bribery of national power to use its precious means of 
 justice to an honest constituency for the horde of lawless 
 despoilers of government had brought him to this, and 
 he had come from the land where such things are 
 allowed. Nor did he now desire to correct the system 
 (the poison had done its work), by his identification with 
 a man actively associated with the affairs of the com- 
 munity — Benjamin Grigscomb, — in an effort to elect a 
 representative (!) of the people, — he merely wanted 
 power — power to requite and destroy his enemies, that 
 was all. Where did he come from ! ' ' 
 
 The companion of the musing and forlorn outcast 
 hesitatingly broke the silence. 
 
 "Would Ben Grigscomb let you run him for con- 
 gress?" queried the cowed freebooter shifting his gaze 
 from his leader's sinister and threatening visage, and 
 directing it across the fire to the figure of Rachel Bolers 
 still sitting in her old position close to the glowing, flick- 
 ering coals. 
 
 "I'll manage that," returned Black Hank. He was 
 silent a moment. Then, as if he had finally dismissed 
 the memory of their late dissension, he proceeded, 
 "Grigscomb, I tell you, 's out fur anything. Billy 
 White, maybe, '11 go agin' him, but that ain't a-goin' to 
 make no difference. Tho ' White 's honest. Honest ! " re- 
 peated the man ; " we all were, once. ' ' 
 
THE HAUNTED WOOD. 211 
 
 "I'm with you, Hank, o' course, ef they's anything 
 in it." 
 
 "You leave that to me," said the other. 
 
 Somewhere in the wood, the scream of a wildcat 
 sounded thrice. If a signal, it was obeyed by the two 
 outlaws; Rachel Bolers continuing, to all appearances, 
 unconscious of her surroundings. 
 
 "Come," commanded the leader, rising quickly to 
 his feet from his seat among the mosses and grasses of 
 their forest rendezvous, "we must be liavin' a bite an' 
 git away." 
 
 With some general instructions to Rachel, which she 
 seemed to comprehend with a degree of intelligence, and 
 hastily swallowing their food, the outlaws vanished in 
 the surrounding forest. 
 
 The darkness had thickened in the glen. The great 
 trees, about, locked ghostly and grim in the vague shad- 
 ows. Dim outlines of rocks, here and there, stood out, 
 and the faint trickle of a running brook was heard, not 
 far otf . 
 
 The bushes that had before moved stirred again. 
 They parted, and the stealthy form of a man emerged 
 noiselessly into view. 
 
 "Now's the time, if she's only got her wits about 
 her," muttered he. 
 
 He came forward to where Rachel sat. He touched 
 her softly on the arm. 
 
 "Who be ye?" she asked. "Be ye the spirit uv 
 justice ? ' ' 
 
 "Ye might ha' said worse," rejoined the other. "I 
 ain't sure, party, but what I may prove that, afore I'm 
 over this 'ere present cruise." 
 
 "What ye want?" said Rachel. 
 
 "Lots o' things — just lots o' things," replied the 
 man, though in a subdued tone of prudent caution. He 
 
212 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 glanced about, as though to assure himself of safety in 
 proceeding further. "D'yo think," he went on coaxing- 
 ly> "yo' could f oiler me intellijuntly, missis?" The 
 secret visitor to this spot appeared to be conversant with 
 Rachel Bolers' affliction. 
 
 "What ye want?" repeated Rachel, staring fixedly 
 in the face of her questioner. "I ain't got no mind," 
 she said plaintively. 
 
 "I know ye ain't — leastways," supplemented the 
 other, coughing apologetically, "yer topgallant 's a tritie 
 sprung, ye know, sometimes. Think ye could answer me 
 a few questions, now," coaxed the speaker conciliatingly. 
 
 Rachel passed her hand over her eyes, and appeared 
 to struggle with the meaning of her questioner's speech. 
 "I'll try," she said. 
 
 "Good," said the man. "Tell me about Brad — 
 Brad Simons, there's an ol' dear." 
 
 "I'll be his jedgment," flashed the woman. 
 
 "Yes, I know ye will," quickly acquiesced her ex- 
 aminer, fearful lest excitement should cause his subject 
 to lose the sane thread of her thoughts. "An' quite 
 right, my dear old lady, 'at ye should keel haul 'im and 
 make 'im walk the plank. But what about him and 
 Billy White, — an ' — an ', ' ' her visitor added, in a tone of 
 reverence, "about Miss De Braddock?" He thought- 
 fully placed his hand upon his chin covered with a short, 
 dark beard, revealing, on the hand's back, tattoo marks 
 of an anchor and ship, and glanced shrewdly at Rachel 
 Bolers out of a pair of restless, twinkling eyes, and 
 breathed the far off sea from every pore. 
 
 Struggling with her jangled faculties, Rachel mys- 
 teriously whispered, 
 
 "Ye know his housekeeper?" 
 
 "Whose housekeeper, missis?" asked the sailor. 
 
 "Brad's." 
 
THE HAUNTED WOOD. 213 
 
 "Well, now," observed the seafaring character, 
 scratching his head, and not disposed to display too 
 much ignorance, "I might even know that 'ere sailin' 
 wessel, ef ye '11 describe it like." 
 
 The effort at continued rationality was apparently 
 beginning to prove too much for the disposition or the 
 power of mind of the sailor's informant. "See her," 
 she once more whispered. 
 
 "The housekeeper?" queried her companion. 
 
 Eachel Bolers nodded. 
 
 "Shall I tell her, now, for instance, as any one sent 
 me ? " asked her visitor, in a cozy, comfortable tone. 
 
 "Ye kin tell 'er, 'at I kin stop Brad Simons from 
 marryin' De Braddock, ef they don't stop my breath- 
 in'," Rachel glanced fearfully around, "afore I do it." 
 
 ' ' What 's ailin ' yo ' now ? ' ' said the man. 
 
 "Fate," said the woman. 
 
 ' ' That 's a name, mebbe, missis, fur them, 'at keeps ye 
 here spliced to 'em ag'in' yer will, now?" rejoined 
 Rachel Bolers' visitor coaxingly, apparently bent on 
 obtaining all the information possible concerning those 
 connected with the woman 's following. The man, with a 
 characteristic gesture, pushed his hat back from his fore- 
 head and displayed a deep scar. William White's 
 tramp, acquitted of suspicion in the death of Zeke 
 Smithin, was at work. 
 
 "I ain't alius dizzy in the head," vaguely exclaimed 
 the distracted creature, " 'n' I could tell yo' things, 
 sometimes. Yes, I could. ' ' 
 
 "Now, there, I b'lieve ye could, so I do," her com- 
 panion admitted humoringly. 
 
 "Yes, I could. But fate," said the woman gro- 
 tesquely and mysteriously mowing at her guest, — "fate 
 hinders me. Did ye know I wuz fate?" she queried, 
 peering up into the other's face. 
 
214 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Well, no; not exactly. Leastways," said the man, 
 not knowing how far he might offend his singular ac- 
 quaintance, — "leastways, I waizn't a-knowdn' uv it 
 afore. ' ' 
 
 " Well, I am, fur I don 't know what I be about. 
 Ain 't that fate ? ' ' 
 
 The other was obliged to admit that it bore a strong 
 family likeness to it. 
 
 "Yes, an' — " but she was, once more, vacant eyed. 
 
 "Kin ye tell me where the cave is?" asked her com- 
 panion. 
 
 Here, the strange and singular woman gave evidence 
 of a keen if not sensible realization of her position, and 
 the emissary of White found himself unable to obtain 
 anything further from her. However, he had his cue — 
 Brad Simons' housekeeper; and satisfying himself that 
 nothing more was to be gained by risking the return of 
 the outlaws, the sailor tramp slipped away in the bushes, 
 leaving Rachel Bolers, lapsed into apparent oblivion of 
 all about her, huddled up over the fire. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE PICNIC. — JOHN BRADDOCK 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 
 
 Ann Mariali Saunders and De Braddock planned a 
 picnic, to which a number of congenial guests were to 
 be invited; a neighboring grove of luxuriant beech and 
 oak selected for the frolic in question supplying a place 
 of sylvan beauty and retreat from the distracting world. 
 Mother Braddock was going. Uncle Peter declared he 
 would go, "ef thet 'air young cub Billy White 'u'd stay 
 away." It was the gastronomic opportunity of Esau, 
 the Braddock farmboy, who, big, fat and good natured, 
 gloated over the prospect of dinner baskets bursting with 
 the abundant resources of the rich farm region, visions 
 of Avhich generous provender filled the cavernous spaces 
 of his appetite to the delay of many tasks of daily farm 
 work, in the meantime. Parson Woods was to be there, 
 and Job Saunders, Ann Mariah's shiftless brother, with 
 many injunctions on the part of his prim, tidy sister, 
 had been granted permission to attend. De was in her 
 element and Mother Braddock put to her best. Indeed, 
 great preparations were to be made, and Esau could 
 scarcely wait till the day of banqueting came about. 
 Despite the discontent of the old farmer with the neces- 
 sity of wearing "store clothes," De had been advised of 
 her father's intention of going to the picnic; and, hence, 
 in view of the old man's obdurate objection to William 
 Wliite, the unhappy and much abused young writer pre- 
 sented a problem as to the introduction of the unfortu- 
 
 215 
 
216 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 nate literary genius into the picnickers' midst that 
 offered many difficulties of solution. It finally trans- 
 pired that Uncle Peter was unexpectedly called away to 
 a neighbor's farm, and White went to the picnic, in cou- 
 rageous defiance of the possibility of Peter's later arrival 
 on the ground of recreation and pleasure. 
 
 In discussing the selection of the guests, William 
 White had begged that Mrs. Walmsey, the engaging 
 widow with w^hom he made his home, be asked. 
 
 "You seem very much interested in Mrs. Walmsey," 
 De found occasion to remark, with something that might, 
 mthout violence to the truth, have been construed to 
 mean a snap of displeasure. 
 
 "She has, in many ways," replied the grateful and 
 unconscious male gender, "been kind to me." 
 
 "Maybe you think more of Widow Walmsey than 
 you do of anyone else," retorted De, flashing up into 
 her companion's face a quick look of jealousy. 
 
 White didn 't think he did. 
 
 And Widow Walmsey was included among those to 
 be invited to the rustic frolic. 
 
 Mona Walker went to the picnic, but Brad Simons 
 did not, — at least, the scheming cattleman was not 
 favored with an invitation. It was sufficient for De to 
 remember JMr. Simons' conduct in the gardens of Ann 
 Mariali Saunders, to blacklist Brad effectually. Al- 
 though JNIona was talked about as Simons' probable 
 future mfe, nothing was generally known of the written 
 and signed agreement of marriage between them, which 
 
 had been stolen by the outlaws from the T bank. 
 
 Mona was of a reserved nature, and her matrimonial 
 affairs with Brad were not of conclusive knowledge in 
 the community. In spite of her unusual though in 
 every way innocent attitude to society and the conven- 
 tional community in the matter of her relations to Brad 
 
JOHN UNDER SUSPICION. 217 
 
 Simons' domestic establishment, she was liked and 
 understood by all who knew her. She was a great favor- 
 ite with Mother Braddock, and it has been seen that De 
 esteemed her highly. It is not certain how far Parson 
 Woods might, at this time, have been received into her 
 final maiden choice, had her marriage understanding 
 with the cattle trader been out of the way; and Woods, 
 on his part, showed a marked disposition in the girl's 
 favor. 
 
 At the Braddock farm, all was bustle and prepara- 
 tion. Mrs. Braddock was to add to the tasty stores of 
 Ann Mariah's provision such baskets of good things, 
 and bottles of elderberry wine, and cans of milk and jugs 
 of cider for those devoted to less exhilarating beverages, 
 and feastings of preserves, with rich and savory chickens 
 boiled whole and fried, too, and such thousands of odible 
 and drinkable etceteras, that the farmboy, shaking in his 
 plentitude of flesh, all but swooned in the delights of 
 anticipation. 
 
 De was up with the chickens. Think of it, city 
 folks ! You who retire at such an hour — your heads 
 swim at thoughts of a spell of swift flying pleasures 
 launched at break o' day. Can we realize, now, that, 
 then, good people, even on farms, lay themselves down 
 to sleep at the same hour as the fowls they rose with? 
 And dear De was everywhere; helping her mother; jog- 
 ging good natured, sluggish Esau; tying Uncle Peter's 
 cravat, when that patriarch came stumping into the 
 kitchen, mildly, and none too mildly, either, anathema- 
 tizing the "store clothes," aforesaid, and making herself 
 the bright, flashing star of genius to warm, irradiate and 
 assemble into sparkling harmony the general mass of 
 things. Bless her heart ! 
 
 And let me tell you, when it came to dressing for the 
 parts to be played at this picnic, the interesting Widow 
 
218 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Walmsey struck the keynote of holiday robes, and had 
 arrayed herself in gay and dazzling splendor. The corn- 
 yellow silk gown, with figurings of Indian red, the bril- 
 liant and successful mainstay of the widow's valued but 
 limited wardrobe, had been employed by her, to-day, 
 with what proved a deep and bewildering design, and 
 greatly -enhanced her undoubted charms and graces. 
 Little half-mitts of black silk enclosed her small, shapely 
 hands, while her brown hair was drawn demurely and 
 plainly over her pretty ears. A wonderful creation in 
 purple adorned her head. And, lo! Job Saunders was 
 the object of these gauds and allurements of female arts 
 cherished by the sprightly and engaging angler, with 
 tenacious and unyielding affection and purpose, from 
 olden days of past and triumphant glories. To Saun- 
 ders, when his fascinated gaze first rested upon this 
 vision of inconceivable loveliness and beauty, in his 
 deeply stirred sense of divine perfection there came 
 something akin to the faint, faroff music of the spheres. 
 The singular and hidden attachment of his rural and 
 determined admirer gave early promise of breaking 
 from its long and heretofore unnoticed and smouldering 
 state into a flame of mutual strength and satisfactori- 
 ness. 
 
 Widow Walmsey and Job Saunders certainly, that 
 day, were a surprise to all who knew them. Why the 
 ^^^dow had chosen a monument of idleness and poverty 
 it would be hard to tell. love, — oh, eternal mystery ! 
 
 The old male bird of the house of Saunders had, in a 
 roving spirit, abandoned the straws and sticks of his 
 nest, at a period remote from the beginning of our nar- 
 rative, and left his young, in the vernacular of the pres- 
 ent day, to "hustle" for themselves. Ann Mariah had 
 no recollection of the maternal care; and Job and she 
 had lived upon, developed and made as much of the 
 
JOHN UNDER SUSPICION. 219 
 
 frugal plot of ground belonging to the elder Saunders 
 as possible ; although, as her brother Job would not 
 help, to any appreciable or observable extent, Ann soon 
 found it necessary to employ a male hand, on whom 
 she could depend for a certain amount of steady work; 
 but beyond this she contrived, unaided, as the bright 
 redeeming blossom in this garden of Saunders' weeds, to 
 keep "a-going." 
 
 There was a mythical legend humorously current 
 among the neighbors, in which the senior ]\[r. Saun- 
 ders' descendants were wont to seriously believe, that, 
 some day, the elder Saunders was coming back to Indi- 
 ana and its population, rich, honored and full of repent- 
 ance. 
 
 As Job rode into the grove where the merrymaking 
 was to be, his own appearance was worthy of note. He 
 wore a long, blue, swallow tail coat which, with its brass 
 buttons had at some previous time supplied full dress 
 for the senior member of his house. His lower limbs 
 w^ere clad in light gray trousers. His head supported a 
 large, full brim, very old. once white, plush, bell crown 
 high hat. This latter article of headgear, likewise de- 
 scending from the elder and recreant head of the Saun- 
 ders' household to his son, had, for years, so afflicted 
 Job's suffering soul that many anxious devices had been 
 employed by him to get rid of, destroy or lose it, and 
 force conclusions to the procurement of a newer and 
 more modern headpiece. One of the artifices resorted 
 to by the wretched sufferer for the elimination of the 
 white bell crown from his life had been to place the 
 article in the path of a falling tree, felled for the pur- 
 pose of crushing the objectionable piece of headgear, 
 but, like the fabled eat of nursery days that had nine 
 lives, the hat had survived, and returned, to mix figures 
 a little, like Banquo's ghost, ''to plague the inventor." 
 
220 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 The bell crown still clung to Job like a fragrant spice 
 of long ago. 
 
 When all had finally arrived at the spot pitched upon 
 for the woodland holiday, each fell to the allotted por- 
 tion of his or her duties. 
 
 William White, in a state of watchfulness regard- 
 ing the expected arrival, at a later hour, of Uncle Peter, 
 when the condemned writer should seek seclusion in the 
 neighboring grove, tarried in the glade under favor of 
 Mrs. Braddock, as well as under that of Mrs. Braddock's 
 highly favored daughter. 
 
 Martha Braddock was guiding and directing her 
 feminine forces something after the manner of an old 
 blue hen with a small but extremely valued brood of 
 chickens, and De, recognized as next in importance, was 
 instructing Ann Mariah Saunders, as occasion offered, 
 just how^ to most effectively match their joint palatial 
 spread of good cheer for the coming feast. Where the 
 women were had been selected the greenest and soft- 
 est mosses, the smoothest sward and the most seductive 
 shade. 
 
 "Esau," called Mrs. Braddock, "come here." 
 Esau came as bidden. 
 
 "I do b'lieve, that — no, here it is — thought I'd left 
 the mustard, an' pepper sass behin'," said Mother Brad- 
 dock, much relieved. "Esau, help De and Ann Mariah, 
 there." 
 
 "Now, Esau, you just go 'long, — you men keep 
 away," and De, at the same time, glanced certainly 
 archly and hastily from beneath her lowered eyelids to 
 see that William White, in a most becoming and fitting 
 outing cap, white duck trousers and characteristic 
 loose, blue, sack coat, had not been closer than necessary, 
 and overheard, in too literal a sense, a speech fraught 
 with what might prove such undesirable and discourag- 
 
JOHiN UNDER SUSPICION. 221 
 
 ing results. And De's lovely and attractive face and 
 bright eyes looked out from beneath the most captivat- 
 ing of cream colored leghorn hats, the broad, ravishing 
 brim of which essential piece of feminine attire scarce- 
 ly concealed the little curls that clustered around her 
 brow, quite driving William White distracted. Around 
 the waist of a dainty white frock she wore an effective 
 sash of broad, cherry hued ribbon, while her feet, en- 
 cased in delicate wear and peeping prettily from under 
 the edge of the shortened gown, showed wdth further 
 twinkling seductiveness to hopelessly complete the con- 
 quest of poor, mere man. 
 
 Bob Likkum, in an amazing red waistcoat and dark 
 flowing tie, together with a coat and nether garment of 
 linen buff, and a wide, country straw hat set smartly 
 on one side of his head, was hovering interestingly near 
 Ann Mariah, in her own dainty pearl gray apparel, that 
 damsel being busy extracting a fly from a jar of pre- 
 serves which she had just opened. Miss Ann's swain 
 stoutly maintained his ground, nor yielded to further 
 spoken or unspoken behests, on the part of either Ann 
 Mariah or De, to depart. 
 
 "Parson—" 
 
 "William—" 
 
 Simultaneously, called Martha Braddock and De. 
 
 The two thus addressed came to attention, while 
 Ann Mariah, Mrs. Braddock, De and Bob Likkum ceased 
 their various occupations, and, in the attitudes in which 
 they found themselves, when the sound of a distant shot 
 reached the glade, were listening and gazing in its direc- 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Ann Mariah; "they'll shoot this 
 way. ' ' 
 
 "Wliat's that shooting, parson?" called Mother 
 Braddock. 
 
222 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "William, what is it?" cried De, — "some one gun- 
 ning?" 
 
 "Kalk'late," put in Bob Likkum drily, — "seems 
 kind o' likely." 
 
 "Hello!" shouted White; "don't shoot this way." 
 
 "It's all right," remarked the parson; "won't do 
 any harm, I judge." 
 
 "Hope not," was Mrs. Braddock's comment, as the 
 women returned to their occupations. 
 
 But White continued to call until he secured a faint 
 answering shout, in the distance. 
 
 "Parson Woods," said William White, while Job 
 and the fat farmboy continued to feast their eyes in 
 silence — the farmboy his upon the goodly stores of rare 
 and enticing eatables that were now rapidly assuming 
 shape upon a snowy cloth spread upon the mossy 
 ground, and the sentimental and stricken Job his own 
 upon the fair presence of the alluring Widow Walmsey, 
 —"parson," said White, "I heard West Flank say that 
 there was some doubt of the guilt of that man the lynch- 
 ers were going to string up the other day. Did you hear, 
 when you rode to meeting, yesterday? 1 saw to it that 
 he had a lawyer, but that mortgage on my place — fore- 
 closure, you know — kept me from attending his prelimi- 
 nary examination before the justice of the peace." 
 White did not speak further of his special interest in the 
 suspected tramp, and Parson Woods did not question 
 him, as White's humanitarianism and special acts of 
 kindness were proverbial and constant, anyway. 
 
 "Why, yes," said the parson,— "seems as if they 
 couldn't make a case against him. It appears that he 
 had picked up the gun belonging to Zeke, and which was 
 found in the prisoner's possession, out of the ditch, after 
 the body of Zeke Smitliin had been carried away; and 
 Zeke's hat, which it was charged the accused man had 
 
JOHN UNDER SUSPICION. 223 
 
 appropriated, was, afterwards, discovered covered with 
 blood, close at hand, near where the body of Zeke had 
 lain. Someone, not with the mob the day of the attempt- 
 ed lynching, saw the man pick up the gun after the body 
 had been removed, and, in the matter of the hat, the 
 suspected man's own hat resembled Zeke's. This 
 thing," concluded Parson Woods, "of circumstantial 
 evidence and mistaken identities is a very serious matter, 
 it seems to me." 
 
 "It certainly is," responded White. 
 "There is a rumor or suspicion," added Woods in a 
 low tone, "connecting John Braddock, in some way, 
 with the Smithin affair." 
 
 "What do you mean?" exclaimed White quickly. 
 
 The parson pointed a finger admonishingly in the 
 
 direction of Mother Braddock and De. "It is beginning 
 
 to be wondered where John got the money to pay his 
 
 note to Brad Simons," said Woods. 
 
 "Is there anything," rejoined Wliite, "strange 
 about a business man getting a little money together 
 and paying off an obligation?" 
 
 "No," answered Parson Woods; "but there has 
 arisen somehow an unaccountable and, I think, most un- 
 worthy suspicion affecting the taking of the sum Zeke 
 was robbed of when killed." 
 
 "My God!" ejaculated White; "they don't sus- 
 pect—" 
 
 "That John Braddock, who threatened, on account 
 of his ^^^fe Nance, to kill Zeke, murdered Zeke Smithin 
 for revenge, and afterwards took the money? that is 
 what this most extraordinary rumor in to\\'ii means," 
 gravely replied the parson. "I know John — man and 
 boy — better than you do, William," said the minister, 
 continuing with great emphasis, as he perceived William 
 
224 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 White about to speak, — "he could not any more have 
 done it, than I could." 
 
 "Parson," said White with feeling, impulsively 
 seizing the oher 's hand, ' ' you 're true blue ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' What you shakin ' hands fur, ' ' cried Job Saunders ; 
 going away, parson, — goin' ter stay with the picnic to 
 dinner, ben't you?" The dinner was almost ready, 
 arrival upon the ground having occurred, through one 
 delay and another, at nearly the hour of noon. 
 
 White saw some answer had to be made, and, refus- 
 ing to trust to the preacher's invincible powers of truth, 
 spoke up hastily, "I was just showing him how the city 
 bunco operator works the gentlemen who visit him from 
 your section of the country, Job," at which good 
 natured and apt reply a general laugh followed. 
 
 "Hush!" cautioned Woods, as Mother Braddock 
 passed near them. 
 
 "But who could have possibly inspired such a thing 
 about John?" queried White of the preacher. 
 
 "William, I am at a loss to think," rejoined the 
 simple minded minister, who could not bring himself to 
 voice the apprehension that had arisen in his own soul 
 in regard to Brad Simons' probable part in the circula- 
 tion of such a charge against the brother of De. It was 
 hard, too, for the single minded man of God to compre- 
 hend how Simons might hope, in any way, to advantage 
 himself with De Braddock or another, by such a course. 
 And, in truth, Simons himself had hesitated long, and 
 had only yielded to the cunning utterance, in town, of 
 his own suspicious surmises concerning John Braddock 
 in the Smithin tragedy when, smarting under De's late 
 punishment, he had sought some way of vengeance on 
 the Braddock house. It was not until later that Brad 
 Simons found means in the Smithin affair to cause John 
 Braddock 's sister to yield to his suit. 
 
JOHN UNDER SUSPICION. 225 
 
 shadows,— phantoms of injustice,— greed and 
 sorrow, do you hover close to this I 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SMOKY BILLINGS. — THE ARREST OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 
 
 The acquittal of the man whom the lynchers had 
 attempted to hang was attended with little of interest, 
 other than that v.hich has been expressed in the state- 
 ment of Parson Woods to William White. Only in 
 respect of one circumstance attending the hearing on his 
 case did matter of sufficient importance transpire in the 
 further concerns of the trial of the lynchers' intended 
 victim to warrant additional allusion to his appearance 
 before the local justice of the peace. The incident re- 
 ferred to the man's name. 
 
 Upon arraignment of the prisoner, the question was 
 asked : 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 It, thereupon, transpired that the prisoner, accus- 
 tomed to the airy neighborhood of haystacks and road- 
 side lodgings, had contracted a heavy cold which, affect- 
 ing his tonsils, had caused an inflamed and swollen con- 
 dition to result, rendering speech, on the part of the 
 subject, of considerable difficulty. Attempting to ex- 
 plain this inability of utterance preventing capable an- 
 swers, on his part, in the examination, the prisoner at 
 the bar replied or attempted to reply to the query affect- 
 ing his name : 
 
 "Choky swellings," meaning, v.-ith certain expressive 
 gestures of his hands in the region of his throat, that his 
 organs of speech were temporarily disabled for satisfac- 
 tory response, by reason of his affliction. 
 
 226 
 
JOHN BRADDOCK'S ARREST. 227 
 
 The answer, such as it was, came to the apprehension 
 of the magistrate in stifled and wholly unintelligible ac- 
 cents, and, placing his own construction upon the reply, 
 the court had instructed the clerk to write the prisoner 
 down as "Smoky Billings." 
 
 So the man was christened ; and, for many years 
 after, this character was known and respected in the 
 community by the title recorded in the office of the Jus- 
 tice of the Peace, at the town of T . 
 
 That hour, of all hours the dearest and most precious 
 to the heart and soul of ye true picnicker! had, at last, 
 arrived, and Mrs. Braddock announced all was in readi- 
 ness for a general congregation around the hospitable 
 board, or snowy-white-covered mossy-ground substitute 
 for that delightful medium of entertainment. 
 
 The newly awakened billings — not Smoky Billings 
 — and cooings of Job Saunders, — who had, at all events, 
 not been deprived of good looks, — and the gracious 
 widow, placed in the unwitting geneml arrangements 
 side by side at the picnic spread, were unmistakable. 
 Bob Likkum, Ann Mariah and the bright glances di- 
 rected from the eyes of De, as revivers of any flagging 
 zeal that might seize upon the heart of William White, 
 added zest to the occasion. Mona Walker, Esau 's former 
 teacher, took refuge with the fat boy, while ]\Irs. Brad- 
 dock and Parson Woods were well content, though some- 
 what scandalized by the widow and Job, to sit at their 
 respective sage and sober points at the feast and see 
 enacted the story that we are never tired of hearing or of 
 telling, and never will tire of hearing or of telling, to 
 the end of time. 
 
 "Here's a wishbone, Ann Mariar," expostulated Bob 
 Likum, upon Ann's sudden withdrawal from the detain- 
 ing grasp of the overpowered Robert of her own delicate 
 fingers which had been snatched, by the ardent wooer, in 
 
228 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the too evident presence of the full company, "an' I'll 
 wish with ye, an' we'll see ef I don't git my wish," this 
 assurance of future realization, by a peculiar mental 
 process not here explained, appearing to afford the re- 
 buked lover a satisfactory justification of his recent 
 descent upon the tempting hand of Ann Mariah. Bob's 
 remarks were duly attended by a presentation, in form, 
 of the wishbone, and the pulling apart of the same by 
 him and Ann at once followed. 
 
 So, De finding a wishbone in the wealth of chicken 
 skeletons, there were two wishbone pullings instead of 
 one, the second pulling including one William White, 
 the significance of which proceedings being those subtle 
 steps leading to the inevitable by and by in store for 
 man and maid 
 
 "De, get another pie, — this boy," Mother Braddock 
 having reference to the now bloated Esau, "has de- 
 voured hull, I think, about three, and four chickens — " 
 
 "Nothin' the kind. Miss De," wheezed Esau, — 
 "don't you b'lieve 'er, — I ain't had nothin', 't all," 
 which, to an unbiased observer, partook in statement 
 from Esau not only of the most undeniable character of 
 falsehood, but, had it been true that the results of Esau 's 
 banquet could have been considered ' ' nothing, ' ' it would 
 have made of "something" a quantity to baffle the com- 
 putation of the distinguished and immortal author of 
 calculus. 
 
 "Bob," whispered White, with sly expression, lean- 
 ing over to Likkum, ' ' the widow will have plenty of idle 
 time on her hands, when she gets Job ! ' ' 
 
 "A clock that don't go is always right, twice a day," 
 oracularly responded Bob. 
 
 "Parson Woods," said Mrs. Braddock, "you'll 
 drink some o' this here elderberry wine, I'm sure?" 
 
 As the parson took from the outstretched hand of 
 
JOHN BRADDOCK'S ARREST. 229 
 
 Mother Braddock the bottle of wine, which species of 
 gentle intoxicant constituted the good pastor's only- 
 form of dissipation, there broke upon the air the sound 
 of a song crooned at a point, nearby, in the wood be- 
 tween the revelers and the river not far distant, 
 
 Bonny, my child, 
 
 Bonny and wee, 
 Eyes bhie and mild, 
 
 That only can see 
 Mother above, bending and low, 
 
 Over thy cradle. 
 Rocking' thee so." 
 
 The words ceased with a long, sad, wailing note — the 
 cry of the bereaved. 
 
 "Rachel — Rachel Bolers," said someone in a hushed 
 voice. 
 
 At this instant, Brad Simons, carrying a gun and 
 followed by a hunting dog, came from behind the trees, 
 where he had been standing for some time an unseen 
 observer, and advanced into the clearing where the mer- 
 rymakers were assembled. He approached and bowed 
 with no apparent restraint in his manner and with a 
 certain appearance of ostentatious friendliness not easy, 
 at first, to understand, but which, presently, much to 
 De's confusion, was partially justified. 
 
 A glance from De's eye, conveying a sense of his 
 ha"vung come an uninvited guest, caused the grazier to 
 say quickly, 
 
 "I am sure all present here will pardon me, but, as 
 you have done my poor land the honor to hold your 
 picnic on it, " 
 
 It was, alas! for De, the truth. From time imme- 
 morial, had this grove been used for camp meetings, 
 picnics, political barbecues and what not? and so mat- 
 
230 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ter-of -course a thing had it become to use it, that a sense 
 of public property in the grove had grown up in the 
 minds of the country people. 
 
 Brad had been informed, by one of his drovers, of 
 the intended merrymaking. He had come out, with his 
 gun and dog, with no other object than to execute this 
 strategic descent upon the rustic roysterers. 
 
 "My goodness! Bradford," exclaimed Mother Brad- 
 dock, "ef you don't put in some kind uv evidence to 
 property holdin' in this 'ere grove, you'll hev' someun' 
 claimin' it, 'ith all this here other people's 'propri- 
 atin' it. Sit down — sit doM^n, " continued the hospitable 
 and unaffected countrywoman, "an' hev' a bite." 
 
 "That there bein' the sentiments fur the occasion, 
 ladies and gents," observed a picturesque figure, quietly 
 emerging from the wood, "I'd like to join the festive 
 scene, if the skipper of this 'ere picnickin' vessel has no 
 objection, — 'bein',' as a friend of mine once said, 'nearly 
 my dinner hour. ' ' ' 
 
 De, with a look of surprise, recognized, in the new 
 arrival, the threatened victim of the late ineffectual at- 
 tempt at lynching. 
 
 Wliite sat in silence, waitin'g developments. He had 
 not seen his co-worker, to speak with him, since their 
 fortuitous and significant day by the river. 
 
 The newcomer, a tramp, the lord of the road, the 
 supreme freemaster, wore his insignia of freedom and 
 princely rags with an unrestrained air of easy and 
 swaggering unconcern equal to that of the graceful and 
 devil-may-care Don Caesar de Bazan himself; and little 
 recking the trials of the rolling, heaving deep of the 
 past. A much worn black felt hat was on his head of 
 dark, shaggy hair, while his whiskers, of the tint and 
 character of the hair, spread in a profuse mass over his 
 firm jaws and broad tanned face. The eyes were keen 
 
JOHN BRADDOCK'S ARREST. 231 
 
 and piercing, — now, twinkling with good humor; and 
 the large, strong mouth wore an expression of smiling 
 complacency. The good ship was battered, but the free 
 winds of the ocean of life still bore it gallantly on. 
 
 De said nothing, as her gaze once more dwelt upon 
 the ingratiating features of the countenance of the 
 former threatened and rescued victim of the lynchers; 
 while her mind went back to the day on the dusty old 
 "Wabash road, where, with courage and daring akin to 
 that of heroines of old, she had controlled a mob bent 
 upon this man's summary and unmerited destruction. 
 
 "Mother," said De, hurriedly, "let him have din- 
 ner," and the others being long ere this satisfied, not to 
 say, in the ease of one Esau, stuffed, Smolcy^ Billings was 
 invited to seat himself upon the springy mosses affording 
 support for the diners and fall to upon the ample re- 
 mains of the generous and welcome woodland banquet. 
 
 If Billings now saw, or recognized if he saw, the 
 wondering and watching De (who had her fascinated 
 and stirring gaze fastened upon the unmoved and fam- 
 ished man much as a layman will devour the features of 
 an actor who, for the first time, is noticed abroad), it was 
 not manifest. He cleared away the remains of the din- 
 ner that was placed before him, — or that, with perfect 
 composure, he drew within the cricle of his portion of 
 the table cloth, — including a remnant, amounting to half 
 a bottle of Mother Braddock's select elderberry wine, 
 with slow, solemn and grave deliberation, circumspectly 
 restraining his devouring wants to the agreeable pro- 
 prieties of the occasion. 
 
 It was observable that, from time to time, the 
 thoughtful eater turned his eyes — he did not move his 
 head, but revolved his eyes in their sockets after the 
 manner of the beacon in a lighthouse — upon the picnick- 
 ers surrounding him, and especially was he noticed to 
 
232 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 fix, for fleeting seconds, those rotating orbs upon the 
 lingering and constrained person of Mr. Brad Simons. 
 
 Mr. Smoky Billings ha\dng, at ^Mother Braddock's 
 pressing and good hearted solicitation, comfortably 
 tucked away a last piece of apple pie, slowly rose to his 
 feet. As he did so in dignified and impressive silence, 
 it was apparent that the personage whom he had fixed 
 upon as the "skipper of this 'ere picnickin' vessel," 
 before alluded to by the wanderer, was Mrs. Braddock, 
 for he approached that lady with a sufficiently gentle- 
 manly deportment, and, in a strong bass voice, which 
 rumbled richly in his throat, said, 
 
 "Thankee, mum," and smiled twinklingly and quite 
 attractively. 
 
 The self-possessed and unconcerned visitor then 
 moved off easily in the direction of the surrounding 
 wood enclosing the little vale, and noiselessly disap- 
 peared among the trees whence he had just come. 
 
 Dinner over, Ann Mariah and Bob passed into the 
 deeper and more mysterious seclusions and retreats of 
 the grove. Even the widow and Job proceeded, in some 
 soft and secret understanding, into the wood. 
 
 It was now White's turn with De, and when these 
 two took their owti way among the trees, Mrs. Braddock 
 left the litter of the feast, and, in respect of restoring 
 articles to baskets, remarking, 
 
 "Time enough, when they come back," seated herself 
 in a chair, taken for the purpose from the red farm 
 wagon, to enjoy a nap. 
 
 Brad Simons, drawing interest on the investments of 
 selfishness, and cutting the coupons of the bonds of un- 
 kindness, had had a long spell of dreary commonplaces 
 with those whom the departed lovemakers had left be- 
 hind ; when, finally. Parson Woods following a chat with 
 Mona, much to Simons' complete discomfiture and eon- 
 
JOHN BRADDOCK'S ARREST. 233 
 
 fused sense of jealousy with De Braddock and William 
 "White in contemplation, sauntered off with Miss Walker 
 for a stroll. 
 
 Brad gazed, with scarcely concealed disgust, first 
 after the par.son and Mona, and next at Mrs. Braddock 
 comfortably seated in a chair and soundly asleep. 
 
 With something like a bit of ironical humor strug- 
 gling for expression in his face, he soliloquized, 
 
 "Entertaining company on a gentleman's own 
 premises," and turned to go. 
 
 William White had seated De on a log not far off, in 
 the wood, and was returning to the glade for the purpose 
 of procuring her a glass of water from the bucket, which 
 the fat farmboy had, at one time in the day, laboriously 
 filled from a spring in the vicinity. 
 
 White, bent upon his commission, had taken several 
 steps from the wood into the clearing, when he almost, 
 ran into Brad Simons sauntering slowly away. The' 
 hastening writer avoided the encounter and reached the 
 water bucket. 
 
 ' ' Heard the news ? ' ' asked the cattleman. 
 
 "What news?" queried White indifferently, rising, 
 at the same time, from his bending posture over thie 
 water receptacle, having filled his glass. 
 
 "Another arrest in the Zeke Smithin murder case." 
 
 "Who, this time?" 
 
 "Tom Bolers, John Braddock 's brother in law." 
 
 The writer uttered an involuntary exclam.ition • 
 
 "Nance's brother!" 
 
 "You see," said Brad Simons, "some money paid 
 out by Tom has been identified by the faro dealer, as that 
 which Zeke won" 
 
 William White continued to gaze silently at his com- 
 panion. He was thinking of the trouble this would bring 
 to another so dear to himself ; for that which would pain 
 
234 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 John's heart, through his wife, would pain De's through 
 John. 
 
 "It's a bad case," said Simons who, to do the latter 
 justice, it is but fair to say could not, in view of the 
 €vidence that had been discovered, but entertain sus- 
 picions of young Bolers; "but that's not the worst of 
 it," added the speaker 
 
 "What more?" quickly ejaculated the other man, a 
 swift, indefinable instinct of alarm and apprehension 
 seizing him. 
 
 "John Braddock's been arrested for the murder of 
 Zeke Smithin, along with Tom." 
 
 White dropped the glass he held in his hand and, 
 striking a stone, the drinking vessel broke in splintered 
 fragments, splashing the water it contained about, and 
 plenteously besprinkling the slumbering and gorged 
 Esau, who was extended at full length beneath the farm 
 wagon, and who was aroused from an interesting and 
 absorbing dream that he had been made the unhappy 
 victim of a sudden and overwhelming cloudburst, con- 
 sisting of undigested pies, chickens and cider ! 
 
 Uncle Peter Braddock, unexpectedly arriving at that 
 moment, cried: 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 And Mother Braddock, just awakening, called out, 
 
 "What's the matter, Peter?" 
 
 "What keeps you, William?" brightly questioned 
 De, gaily stepping into the open space and meeting the 
 consternation there. 
 
 And Bob Likkum, Ann Mariah, Job Saunders and 
 Widow Walmsey, drawn by some secret sympathy, came 
 simultaneously into view, within the enclosure of cleared 
 ground, only to become instantly fixed in attitudes of 
 sympathetic regard and attention. 
 
 The discomposed and slumberously ill used farmboy 
 
JOHN BRADDOCK'S ARREST. 235 
 
 Esau shook himself and scrambled to a sitting position 
 under the wagon; Parson Woods struggled to his feet, 
 and even the Braddock Newfoundland alertly came and 
 sniffed growlingly at Simons' legs. 
 
 At this instant, Smoky Billings appeared slowly on 
 the scene. He had his hands in his pockets and stopped, 
 with no seeming interest, within easy distance of Brad 
 Simons and, happening to catch his roving glance, stood 
 eying that gentleman with frank and unruffled com- 
 posure. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AJf UNEXPLAINED VISITOR FROM KENTUCKY FILLS THE 
 ATMOSPHERE WITH DEEPEST MYSTERY. 
 
 Old Peter Braddock bore the shock of John's arrest 
 with unexpected composure, and threw himself, farm- 
 lands and universal possessions into the defense of his 
 offspring with a vigor and energy that knew no bounds. 
 Mother Braddock wept; but, on the whole, was tranquil 
 under the ministrations of Parson Woods, and her own 
 sublime faith in her boy. De took John's arrest harder 
 than anyone, though in no way permitting herself to 
 slacken her efforts in behalf of her brother, or cast disap- 
 pointment, discouragement or gloom upon the efforts of 
 others in the same direction. 
 
 One of the most singular things about the situation 
 was the effect it had on the strained and prejudiced per- 
 sonal relations at this time existing between Farmer 
 Braddock and William White. The really acute and 
 well trained mind of the capable and promising writer, 
 brought to bear upon the difficulties in j\Ir. Braddock 's 
 surroundings, enabled a generous and forgiving disposi- 
 tion in the literary man to secure a corresponding toler- 
 ance, on the farmer's part, of the writer's earnest and 
 effective efforts to inject comfort and philosophic if not 
 practical counsel into the afflicted man's life. The 
 troubled old Hoosier's opinion of the younger man now 
 soared to a height of respect and confidence in the tried 
 old fellow's hour of adversity. 
 
 236 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED VISITOR. 237 
 
 "De, child," remarked Mrs. Braddock, one morning 
 shortly following the day of the memorable picnic in 
 Simons' Grove, "do you' 'pear ter hev' any idee that 
 Job Sa'nders, reely, hez ser'us intentions, 'bout Widder 
 Wa'msey?" 
 
 "Shouldn't wonder, mother," was De's reply, wath 
 a look of perplexed amusement, as she turned to her 
 father just coming into the kitchen, from the yard. 
 
 "Peter," said mother, turning to Uncle Peter enter- 
 ing with a load of firewood in his arms, "do make that 
 boy Esau do them chores." 
 
 "All right, Marthy," responded the vigorous old 
 man, dropping the wood resoundingly on the pile by the 
 stove. "There comes William, De," added the farmer 
 looking off, through a window, upon the road, where, in 
 the language of the old fashioned novelist, "a solitary 
 horseman might have been seen wending his way." The 
 father's voice was gravely considerate in this brief ad- 
 dress to the girl; but, brief as were the words, the sig- 
 nificance of his manner touched his daughter, and she 
 rose from where she was sitting, and, putting an arm 
 around the old gentleman's neck, drew his face to hers 
 and kissed him. 
 
 "There, there, you be a good girl," he said, patting 
 his daughter's cheek wath his callous, toil hardened 
 fingers, "an'," added the father, "it's a great comfort, 
 jes' now, an' God is good!" and the old man devoutly 
 and reverentially raised his gaze on high and passed out 
 of the kitchen, as he had come in. 
 
 ' ' Hello there, house ! " at this moment shouted a 
 voice from the road, and Uncle Peter turned back into 
 the kitchen with the remark, 
 
 "That ain't Vfilliam's voice, tho' I seen him," and 
 went on through the house and out to the open front 
 
238 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 door, where he was heard, the next moment, to call, 
 heartily, 
 
 "Howdee, West, — 'light," which speech Mr. Brad- 
 dock regarded as an invitation for West Flank, sitting 
 on horseback in the road, to alight, uttered and stood 
 silent. 
 
 "Can't — can't get down, Peter — got a message fur 
 ye, thet's all." 
 
 "Come in, come in, — ye kin tell it jes' as well inside 
 the house, Wes', reckon," urged the hospitable Hoosier. 
 
 "Can't do it — can't get down, I mean, Peter, — im- 
 possible; but I wanter tell ye, a man do^vn to town, las' 
 night, tell me, 'at a man — sick nigh there — hez your 
 name — stranger. Know him ? ' ' 
 
 "My name?" inquiringly and blankly replied Uncle 
 Peter. 
 
 "Yep," said West. 
 
 "Mother," called Uncle Peter, helplessly, "won't ye 
 come here?" 
 
 Mrs. Braddock promptly put in an appearance at 
 her husband's side in the doorway. 
 
 "Did ye say," went on Uncle Peter addressing his 
 wife, "that Hiram wuz a-comin' to visit us from Ken- 
 tucky ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, Peter; why do you ask?" was Mrs. Braddock 's 
 natural reply. 
 
 "Why, here be a man do^Mi nigh about town, 'at 
 Wes' says hez our name. He be sick, too. I say, Wes', 
 wuz his name Hiram?" asked Peter, looking question- 
 ingly at West Flank. 
 
 ' ' Egg-zackly what it was, ' ' answered Flank from the 
 road, respectfully. 
 
 "Mother, that's him," said Uncle Peter turning back 
 quickly to Martha, — "Cousin Hi." 
 
 "Well, now, Peter, I'll allow!" Mrs. Braddock ex- 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED VISITOR. 239 
 
 claimed in a tone of great astonishment; ^xhy, the pore 
 fellow! — much sick, Wes'?" called Mother Braddock, in 
 her turn. 
 
 "Pooty sick, Mis' Braddock," rejoined West Flank, 
 rubbing the top of his horse 's neck wi ih his riding whip, 
 while he kept his own face sympathizingly fixed in the 
 direction of the house, from his continued seat on the 
 back of the horse. 
 
 "Peter, go right and see," directed Mrs. Braddock, 
 flatly. 
 
 At this moment, William White rode up at a slow 
 walk, and West Flank, earnestly and heartfeltedly 
 thanked by Peter and mother, cantered on in response 
 to his own unavoidable haste, throwing back profuse, 
 generous and sincere wishes that the condition of the 
 Braddock relative might not prove desperate or beyond 
 hope. 
 
 Peter Braddock and William Wliite went to see the 
 sick man who, under the, to Peter and Martha, familiar 
 name of Hiram Braddock, had been taken in by a friend- 
 ly' Samaritan in the vicinity of the county seat and 
 cared for in his painful and unlooked for affliction. 
 
 De, at her own earnest solicitation, was permitted to 
 make one of the party, and the red farm wagon, fol- 
 lowed by the Newfoundland dog and containing Uncle 
 Peter, White and De, and even ]\Iother Braddock at the 
 last moment, jolted dutifully to town in one of those 
 surprising daily events in which a strange and wonder- 
 ful network of chance moves the world in a ceaseless 
 revolution of miseries and joys. 
 
 Peter Braddock was pained and shocked enough to 
 find in the sick stranger his Kentucky relative Hiram 
 Braddock. But it had transpired worse with his kins- 
 man than reported to Peter, for the old Hoosier found 
 the Kentuckian near death. He was unconscious, before 
 
240 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the arrival of his anxious and inquiring friend?, and, so, 
 long remained. 
 
 William White and Peter Braddoek, the former of 
 whom proving a worthy and now indispensable source 
 of reliance to the troubled Indiana farmer in this last 
 unexpected mishap, learned that Peter's kinsman, with 
 marks of evident violence about his head and person, and 
 unable to give any connected account of his troubles, 
 had wandered at night to the door of the open hearted 
 country people, who had received and kindly ministered 
 to him. 
 
 In one of his pockets was found a receipted account 
 bearing the name of the injured man, and, by this means, 
 he had been satisfactorily identified. 
 
 After doing all that lay in their power for the unfor- 
 tunate Kentuckian who had, before their arrival, been 
 
 placed under the care of T 's best medical aid, White 
 
 and Uncle Peter Braddoek with mother and De went 
 over to the jail to see John. 
 
 John Braddoek, following his arrest, had carried 
 himself with the nerve that naturally belonged to his 
 staunch old Western stock. His imprisonment, which 
 had been made as comfortable as possible by the sheriff, 
 had really not told much if any upon him. and it was 
 only when mention was made of his fellow prisoner Tom 
 Bolers, confined in a neighboring cell, that John Brad- 
 , dock gave evidence of anxiety or uneasiness. 
 
 All interested in the defendant in the celebrated 
 cause of the State of Indiana versus John Braddoek 
 were sustained, in their conviction of John Braddoek 's 
 innocence of the crime imputed to him, by their knowl- 
 edge of the high character of his family and his owti 
 unblemished reputation for honesty and integrity. How- 
 ever, there are rarely absent those who, in moments of 
 trial of sacred honors, lives and fortunes, will find .some 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED VISITOR. 241 
 
 breath of unusual suspicion, with which to taint the fair 
 fame of the unhappy subject. And so, in the ease of 
 young Braddock, there were those who did not omit to 
 say, ''No good could come of anyone who had married a 
 woman like Nance Bolers!" But John's friends paid 
 no attention to this, and Uncle Peter, White, JMother and 
 De proceeded to the jail with the feeling that nothing 
 had been neglected to secure for son and friend and 
 brother every promise of fair play. 
 
 To-day had been one of thoughtful unrest for John, 
 lie could not fail to be conscious of his own innocence; 
 iilthough the circumstances leading to his arrest for the 
 murder and robbery of Smithin were such as to have 
 afforded a serious warrant of inquiry into the aspect of 
 the case in regard to even himself. 
 
 Many of us can recall liow, by the acts of some artistic 
 genius, the faces of distinguished public officials orna- 
 menting our currency, in moments of idle fancy have 
 been altered to resemble some other characteristic coun- 
 tenance, as of an old gentleman with a patch ovr-r one 
 eye, and wearing a very disreputal)le looking smaslied 
 high, silk hat, together with the appearance of a sliort 
 pipe protruding from his distorted and swollen lips. A 
 bill so marked had been found among those with which 
 John Braddock had paid the note given, by him, in Tom 
 Bolers ''interest, to Brad Simons. It was here that the 
 formidable and threatening cattle mercliant had been 
 moved to the course he subsequently pursued. 
 
 Whatever the suspicion, — whether sufficient or in- 
 sufficient, — which Brad Simons may have ])een previous- 
 ly prompted to entertain of his unscrupulous and dan- 
 gerous associate, Jason Jump, relating to the cause of 
 the death of Zeke Smithin, Simons saw fit to further 
 completely and conspicuously ignore the brigand chief. 
 In the dark and sinuous workings of his scheming mind, 
 
242 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 he realized that here, at last, might be an unquestionable 
 and uncontestable advantage to himself concerning De 
 Braddock and De Braddock's brother. 
 
 He went with prompt decision to the faro dealer, 
 whose bank Zeke was known to have broken. The 
 gambler unhesitatingly identified the bill just described 
 as one of those paid by him to Smithin, on the night the 
 latter won and left triumphantly with the dealer's cash. 
 With the suspicious and incriminating piece of money, 
 in this manner positively known to have been in the 
 possession of Braddock, it was, at this point, all too 
 effectively remembered, by Brad, that John Braddock 
 had, in the former's own hearing, threatened the life of 
 Zeke Smithin. Brad proceeded directly to De's brother. 
 Upon being questioned, John asserted that he had re- 
 ceived the marked bill and its fellows from Tom Bolers, 
 but denied all knowledge of any criminal source from 
 whence the money might have originally been procured, 
 by Tom. Simons' investigations necessarily if not by 
 Brad's conscious and evil design caused Braddock and 
 Bolers jointly to be arrested. 
 
 John was sitting and idly thrumming with his fingers 
 upon the edge of the iron cot set along the wall of his 
 
 narrow cell, in the T county jail, when the sheriff 
 
 came to the door. 
 
 "Here's your pap, Johnny," announced the jail offi- 
 cial, "come to see you. Cheer up," said the kind hearted 
 officer, ' ' you '11 come through, all right. ' ' 
 
 John ceased the monotonous play of his fingers on 
 the iron cot, and glancing up smiled brightly. He 
 looked, at the instant, wonderfully like De. "Hope so, 
 sheriff, and I guess I -will. Father, there?" queried the 
 prisoner, cheerfully. 
 
 "Yep, he be," rejoined the sheriff, who stepped aside, 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED VISITOR. 243 
 
 allowing Mr. Braddock, senior, William White and party 
 to occupy his place. 
 
 "Though it's ag'in' the rules," said the sheriff, 
 "s'posin' you see him in my office," and the officer 
 touched Farmer Braddock familiarly on the shoulder. 
 
 "W'y, I thankee, kindly, Zach," replied the farmer, 
 and the party adjourned to a large and commodious 
 room constituting the sheriff's own private office, where 
 they were enahlcd, without restriction of bars, to be in 
 fuller and more unrestrained communion. 
 
 ' ' I guess, Peter, ye won 't play me no tricks, ' ' said the 
 sheriff in a satisfied tone, as he stepped towards the door 
 with the manifestly delicate intention of leaving the 
 company alone. He promptly withdrew, when, 
 
 "He'll Stan' his trial," returned the stout old 
 farmer. 
 
 John Braddock seated himself in the midst of his 
 family; and turned his eyes slowly, by an involuntary 
 impulse, upon William White and his sister De. as 
 though, in some unknown way, relief might be sought in 
 their direction. 
 
 After the customary exchange of intimate family 
 attentions had been observed, a moment of quiet ensued. 
 
 "Ye say," said Uncle Peter, at length breaking the 
 silence, ' ' 'at ye got the money uv Tom, an ' that 's all ye 
 know about the matter?" as the old man spoke, he fixed 
 a sym.pathizing look of earnest and wistful scrutiny 
 upon his son's face. 
 
 "Yes, father," rejoined the son, "Tom brought me 
 the money at a time when great need pressed me." 
 
 "And did no one see him pay you?" queried White. 
 "Tom denies it, of course, as is to be expected. And 
 you have no witness?" 
 
 "None," said John. 
 
 "But, Johnny," said mother, "ye knew that that 'ere 
 
244 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. ^ 
 
 Tom Bolers wuz a thief er, -vvhut was ez bad, a f orgerer, ' ' 
 added i\Irs. Braddock, making the last word especially 
 strong by the unconscious supply of an extra syllable. 
 
 "He took me off my guard," responded John. "He 
 told me that he had received a, favorable settlement in 
 the land case, in which I kneAV him to have an interest 
 of some kind before the courts. I never stopped to ques- 
 tion him. I find he lied. ' ' 
 
 "Ye think he done this thing?" queried Peter Brad- 
 dock. 
 
 "Murdered Smithin?" said John Braddock; "don't 
 ask me. ' ' 
 
 "It looks bad," said White. "John," continued 
 De's lover, "no one who knows you will ever suppose 
 you had anything to do with the killing and robbing of 
 Zeke Smithin, but the processes of the law Avill have to 
 be satisfied, as you yourself well know. Where were you 
 at eleven o'clock, — the time fixed, I believe, when this 
 murder is said to have been committed, — on the night of 
 the commission of the crime? Your defense, I think, 
 should be an alibi. Can you tell where you were, at the 
 time of the killing of Smithin? Think, now." 
 
 "Why," replied Braddock quite readily, "I was 
 here in to^vn. I came over from home on business." 
 
 ' ' Can you prove it ? " questioned White earnestly. 
 
 "Why, I suppose so," returned the suspected man, 
 ■sdth that quick assurance which is the first impulse of 
 those who think all should be as satisfied of their conten- 
 tion as they themselves. 
 
 "John," said William White seriously, and De sat 
 watching the faces of William and her brother witli de- 
 vouring intensity, " 'suppose' won't do. You must 
 Jc7ioiv. Can you swear positively to the place where you 
 were, other than at the scene of the killing, on the night 
 and at the time in cpestion ? ' ' 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED VISITOR. 245 
 
 Braddock was readily able to say that he could, — 
 that he stood, for a few moments, in front of the Travers 
 Hotel, at about the hour of eleven, on the night referred 
 to. 
 
 "So far, so good," commented White. *'Do you 
 know anyone who, likewise, knows you were there? 
 Pardon me," he hastened to add, thinking he saw a 
 shade of reproach cross De's face that the questioner's 
 examination of her brother should seem to imply any 
 doubt of the latter 's veracity, "but a law of evidence 
 will demand corroboration of the — of John's testi- 
 mony," consideration for those present had prevented 
 him from saying, "the prisoner's." 
 
 John Braddock replied that he had seen several 
 people, that night, on business — the night Zeke Smithin 
 came by his death. He had left one of his business 
 acquaintances, the most important and the one v/hom he 
 
 had really come to T to see, for De's brother did not 
 
 live in the town in which he now lay imprisoned, — he 
 had left this man about ten o'clock, and after that — ah, 
 there was the rub ! — after that, he had walked about aim- 
 lessly for an hour, passing time until bedtime, and — 
 alone. 
 
 "Exactly what the prosecution wants, and will make 
 the most of," exclaimed Wliite thoughtlessly, for he saw 
 De change color, and even John Braddock stirred un- 
 easily in his chair; while Mother and Uncle Peter Brad- 
 dock were pale to the lips under the tension. William 
 White hurriedly added that which, to do him justice, 
 he had already thought to say, "and," he said emphat- 
 ically, * ' we know now what to do ; some one must be 
 found to testify to seeing John in front of the hotel." 
 
 "Someone must be .found to testify to seeing John in 
 front of the hotel," the words of William Wliite kept 
 
246 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ringing in De's ears. "Someone must be found to tes- 
 tify to seeing John in front of the hotel." 
 -■ "Weil, now, see here," said Uncle Peter, "you don't 
 'tend to say, William, 'at it can't be did — can't lind nary 
 one to swear to where John vraz, do ye ? " 
 
 J\Iother hung on the writer's words as White, not 
 liking to let those present know the doubts that har- 
 assed his owTi mind, hesitated as to what to say. Fin- 
 ally he replied to Uncle Peter's anxious inquiry, 
 
 "Never fear, Uncle Peter, we'll find someone," and 
 the literary man's tones were so cheerful and confident 
 that encouragement and hope were carried with them to 
 Hie hearts of everybody, and Mother Braddock drew a 
 sigh of relief. 
 
 De was silent during the remainder of the time 
 passed with the prisoner. While topics of comfort and 
 other subjects usual to such occasions were discussed by 
 her companions, she was lost in thought over what her 
 lover had said. "Someone must be found to testify to 
 seeing John in front of the hotel." Could anyone be 
 found? and if not, what then? Would it be possible to 
 find a witness who could swear to seeing him there, any- 
 way — sv/ear falsely? De's own perceptions of the obli- 
 gations of legal testimony were those of one Avho had 
 been brought up to venerate existing order. A person 
 who testified in a court of law would have, she thought 
 with a little thrill of awe, to "kiss the book." Suppos- 
 ing it were herself tbat were called on to swear that she 
 had seen John in front of the hotel, could she, who had 
 not seen him, "kiss the hook" and swear -he had? What 
 M'ould the father confessor say to that? for, you know, 
 De was a Catholic. She was still puzzling over these 
 things when the others rose to go; and, Avith tbe look of 
 love she had given her brother still lingering in her eyes, 
 after the visitors had left the jail she continued to puzzle 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED VISITOR. 247 
 
 over them until William White, noticing her preoccupa- 
 tion, asked the reason of it. 
 
 "Oh, nothing," said the girl, and could not be pre- 
 vailed upon to explain herself further. 
 
 John Braddock's callers had been gone some time and 
 John had returned to his cell. A voice, in his vicinity, 
 broke the stillness of the jail, — it was that of someone 
 evidently talking to the sheriff. It came nearer. It was 
 the voice of Brad Simons, and through it came to the 
 ears of the prisoner the words, 
 
 "Let me see him, sheriff. You know I mean, him no 
 harm. And I may be able to get him out of this, without 
 any trouble." 
 
 John attention became fixed 
 "Why, certainly. Brad; suppose they can't Ix^ no 
 harm," returned the sheriff who, after all, had only 
 seen, in the part played by Simons, the actions of a man 
 inspired by a natural desire to bring justice to light; 
 although Zach Stoner, the simple hearted oiScer, disliked 
 Brad's relation to the case, unfortunate though that 
 relation was 
 
 John, sitting alone upon the cot in his cell, listened 
 to the conversation passing on the outside between Brad 
 Simons and the sheriff. Whatever Braddock may have 
 thought of the part taken by the grazier in the affair of 
 his own arrest, he was, similarly with the sheriff, con- 
 strained, in an entirely dispassionate and strict view of 
 the matter, to regard Simons as but a blind agent in the 
 movements of justice. And so, naturally presuming the 
 object of the cattleman to be a visit to himself, he pre- 
 pared to receive Brad with perfect friendliness. 
 
 And Bradford Simons proceeded to his innings with 
 John Braddock. 
 
 "Braddock," said the cattle dealer, after he had 
 entered the cell, "you are as well aware as I, that I came 
 
248 THT^ CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 into this matter through no ill will to you, but, as I have 
 once before explained, through a purely accidental dis- 
 covery, on my part, of the marked bill you say Tom 
 brought to you along with the other money paid me, 
 when you redeemed your note. I have come to make 
 sure that you bear me no malice." 
 
 "None, in the least, Brad — none, in the least," John 
 Braddock answered cordially. 
 
 "John," continued Simons, who had been standing 
 in front of Braddock, and proceeding to w^alk hurriedly 
 a length of the cell, "you have relieved me more than I 
 can tell," and in truth had John Braddock done that 
 very thing, for Brad Simons had scant showing to win 
 fovor with De without the good will, at this conjunction 
 of events, of De's brother. 
 
 "I believe, John, I can see a way to get you out of 
 this mess," thoughtfully resumed Simons with his look 
 on John. 
 
 We would be little less than human were we indiffer- 
 ent to proffered hope of restoration to liberty ; of return 
 to God's free air; of release from the shadow of crime 
 and prison walls. 
 
 John Braddock was human. 
 
 "Brad," he said quickly, "what do you mean?" 
 
 "What I say," replied Simons with an air of sym- 
 pathy; "but there are things that may require — " 
 
 "Come, come; let's hear," said the other, his interest 
 keener than delay. 
 
 "John Braddock," bluntly burst forth Brad Simons, 
 ' ' I love your sister De. ' ' 
 
 "Wliat has that to do with it," said the prisoner 
 quickly, instantly scenting some ulterior design, on the 
 part of his visitor. 
 
 "Little or nothing, perhaps," diplomatically hedged 
 iHae tempter, — "little or nothing, — it merely, that mo- 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED VISITOR. 249 
 
 ment, — well, you see, I do love her. I am a rich man, as 
 you are aware, and she should never know what it was to 
 have an ungratified wish." 
 
 *'Brad, I ask you, again, what has that to do wnth my 
 case?" asked Braddock, in a composed and dignified 
 manner. 
 
 '"John," persisted Simons, in the vein in which he 
 had precipitated himself, "you're not the guilty party 
 in this case — you know that, and so do I. You know the 
 guilty man — Tom — Tom Bolers. " 
 
 "Hush!" said young Braddock. 
 
 "Still, what I say is true," reiterated Simons; and 
 he, indeed, believed Nance's brother guilty of a share in 
 a conspiracy to murder and rob Zeke Smithin; "what's 
 the use ! — let Tom Bolers, for once in his life, pay the 
 penalty of his crimes." 
 
 "Well?" said the other quietly. 
 
 "Well, help me to win your sister, and togetlier you 
 and T can fix this thing on Bolers; — if you don't you 
 stand a fair chance of going to the gallows along wiih a 
 no-account, ne'er-do-well, who never did and never v/iU 
 amount to more than jail bird material in this world, if 
 he ever gets anything else in the next," and Brad 
 Simons had had three strikes in his innings; he started 
 for First, on what he thought was a safe hit. 
 
 He didn't know the right fielder he had to deal with. 
 
 John Braddock caught the fly, tho' he had to reach 
 high to get it. 
 
 "So that's your game, is it?" and John, as he made 
 reply, had a vision, as well, of the loves of De and 
 William, — "so that's it. Well, well, I might have known 
 better — I might have known it," continued Braddock. 
 "Few, it seems, if any, do things in this world without 
 selfish motives. Now, see here. Brad," and the speaker 
 turned abruptly, in his turn, upon the base and un- 
 
250 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 worthy schemer, who continued to stand and eye con- 
 centratedly the still-seated figure of the prisoner, "I am 
 not required, by you or anyone, to state my private im- 
 pressions of the guilt or the innocence of Tom Bolers or 
 of anybody else. I am just simply a poor devil of an 
 unfortunate, whom force of circumstances has placed in 
 this fix, and who wants to do about as near right as God 
 Almighty or fate, or whatever it is, will let him, and 
 that 's all ; but I will say this, that I 'd rather go along in 
 an upright, honest way, trying to do as little harm to my 
 neighbors as possible, and content with such justice as I 
 can hope to get dealt out to me in the mercy of the All- 
 Seeing, than to go skulking in and out of people's con- 
 fidences, attempting to beguile them of their better 
 selves, and living only to fatten selfishness upon them 
 and theirs, — I'd rather do anything than that. I may go 
 to the gallows, for all I know, but I '11 go clean. ' ' 
 
 "You refuse to let me help you?" exploded Simons 
 in a burst of rage. 
 
 "Upon any such terms as those that you have just 
 proposed? yes," retorted Braddock with firm and in- 
 vincible spirit. 
 
 "Then your fate be on your own head," fairly 
 hissed the infuriated man. ' ' John Braddock, I wash my 
 hands of you," and Simons flung furiously from Brad- 
 dock's presence and out of the jail. 
 
 Brad had had his innings and been, as we care to put 
 it nowadays, "annexed" by the opposing team. 
 
 But loyal John had not reckoned with De, nor, of a 
 verity, had Simons either. 
 
 And, all this time, the visitor from Kentucky was 
 hovering between life and death. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 WILLIAM WHITE "GETS INTO THE GAME AND, AT THE 
 
 SAME TIME, NEAR ENOUGH INTO A FIGHT WITH 
 
 BRAD SIMONS TO MAKE IT INTERESTING. 
 
 Brad Simons, grazier, farmer and onetime college 
 man, to speak in the modern vernacular of the street, 
 "saw his finish," in matters pertaining to love and mat- 
 rimony, so long as William "White stood in his way. It 
 would be difficult, as Brad very well knew, to dislodge 
 the literary wooer from the favor of De Braddoek. 
 
 When Simons left the jail after his unsuccessful in- 
 terview with John Braddoek, he was in a mood to take 
 fire at anything that continued to elaborate obstructions 
 to the realization of his mad desire for Peter Braddoek 's 
 daughter. Smarting under the merited sting of young 
 Braddoek 's indignant and just repudiation of his selfish 
 and unworthy offer, Simons, proceeding from John's 
 place of confinement, perceived William White standing 
 in front of the office of the attorney at law whom Uncle 
 Peter had retained to defend his son. The cattleman 
 crossed the street, and joined his rival and spoke to him. 
 White replied civilly. 
 
 Brad was still nursing the embers of his jealous and 
 vindictive hatred of this man, who had before now open- 
 ly stood between the cattleman and De Braddoek. 
 
 "White," began Simons, in a seemingly friendly 
 manner, "you've been a pretty good soldier." 
 
 "I've done the best I could. Brad," rejoined the one 
 armed ex-military man. 
 
 251 
 
252 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Don't you, sometimes, feel as if you'd like to have 
 another little brush with the enemy ? ' ' said Simons, -with 
 a mean glitter in his eye, and edging closer to Wliite. 
 
 "No, I've had my share of fighting," said White 
 unsuspiciously, — "I don't believe I want any more." 
 
 "True, you don't care to fight much, do you?" 
 smoothly retorted the other man, eying his unsuspecting 
 companion evillj^. 
 
 William White, still unconscious of any hidden mean- 
 ing in Brad's speech, looked dowTi at the armless sleeve 
 on his o\^Ta right side and up again, with smiling signifi- 
 cance, into his companion's face. 
 
 "I'm not in a very good shape to try it. Brad," he 
 returned laughingly. 
 
 Simons observed the first look. 
 
 ' ' True, — too bad about your arm, ' ' continued he, still 
 preserving an air of apparently friendly concern, and 
 indicating the empty sleeve of the ex-army man, "or you 
 might do a little fighting, even yet, on occasion. 
 
 White said he regretted his soldierly disability. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," pursued Simons; "guess you 
 weren 't very sorry to get out of danger. ' ' 
 
 The ex-soldier glanced, a second time, and quickly 
 into the speaker's face. Something in Simons' remark 
 finally jarred upon him ; but, at the instant, he could 
 not tell whether it was a slur upon his courage or not, 
 and he remained silent, gazing passively into Brad 
 Simons' half laughing countenance. Perhaps, Simons 
 was joking. It never occurred to White to suppose that 
 the man w'as trying to fasten a quarrel upon him. 
 White's courage was not questioned by those who kncAv 
 him. 
 
 "Say, William," continued the cattle dealer abrupt- 
 ly, as though the idea had just occurred to him, "with 
 that arm, or want of one, you ought to go in for congress". 
 
WHITE "GETS INTO THE GAME." 253 
 
 They might overlook general unfitness, and take you for 
 the soldier business." Simons was still smiling, and it 
 was even now impossible to determine whether he was 
 ridiculing the one-armed man, or whether he was indulg- 
 ing in a humor which, to say the least, was in very ques- 
 tionable taste, or whether he was really serious. 
 
 White deemed it best, at this point, to remark with- 
 out emotion of any kind, 
 
 "I expect they would have to overlook a good many 
 things in both you and me. Brad, in the selections of 
 merit and v.orth," and the writer, in his turn, smiled 
 good naturedly 
 
 "Very good — very good," laughed Simons loudly 
 and affectedly; "I suspect they might even overlook 
 your literature," and Brad Simons continued to laugh 
 with apparently even greater good nature, and in seem- 
 ingly increased appreciation of his own wit. 
 
 William White, on his side, likewise laughed good 
 humoredly. 
 
 "It would be a severe test of the forbearance of the 
 suffragists of this district, I don't doubt," said the lit- 
 erary man, entering complacently into the conceit of his 
 companion. 
 
 "Frankly," continued Simons assuming a manner of 
 confidential concern, ' ' I don 't suppose, at all events, that 
 you much object to anything — one arm, or anything else 
 — so long as you are let stay at home with 'The girl you 
 left behind you,' and spend your time laying around 
 with old Braddock's daughter," and Brad laughed 
 again. 
 
 "Mr. Simons," replied William White, made sud- 
 denly conscious that Simons had invaded ground of 
 sacred privacy — a ground on w^hich this man, now stand- 
 ing before him, and himself could never meet in the 
 troubled motives and instincts unhappily urging Simons 
 
254 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 on, — "Mr. Simons," repeated William White, "it is to 
 be hoped that you fully measure the meaning of all you 
 are saying. I feel regret to add, however, that your last 
 observation and, in fact, the prolonged jest upon my 
 missing arm, are in poor taste." 
 
 If Brad Simons' intention was to precipitate hostil- 
 ity between himself and De's lover, this was his oppor- 
 tunity. He, too, was no coward. It might have been 
 more politic to avoid an open quarrel with his rival ; but 
 few stop to think when their animosity is aroused, and 
 Brad's was to a passionate and implacable degree! 
 
 Trouble was averted, for the moment, by the appear- 
 ance upon the sidewalk, where the two belligerents were 
 standing, of Benjamin Grigscomb, the lawyer of lynch- 
 ing fame, whom Farmer Braddock had employed in the 
 defense of John, and who now came from his office in 
 front of which Brad Simons and William Wliite had 
 been standing, and addressed the two in terms of friend- 
 ly greeting. The lawyer had caught White's reference 
 to his missing arm. 
 
 "Billy," said Grigscomb, "they say you can do as 
 much with that one arm of yours as an ordinary man 
 can with two." 
 
 "I've just been trying to convince my friend, here, 
 of his loss in respect of the prospect of a little skirmish," 
 said Simons, unable to resist the malicious impulse to 
 give his adversary a sly and as he thought a safe thrust. 
 
 "I expect," remarked White in his quietest and best 
 manner, "that Mr. Simons is not advised how near this 
 skirmish is at hand, or how gladly I shall meet the odds 
 or accept the advantages attempted to be taken of a one 
 armed man." White concluded his remark smilingly. 
 
 "I say, Grigscomb," exclaimed Brad Simons turning 
 hastily to the attorney, ' ' it may be possible I am on the 
 
WHITE "GETS INTO THE GAME." 255 
 
 track of an alibi for John Braddock, whatever is the 
 guilt or innocence of the other man Bolers." 
 
 "Evidence of such a nature," replied the lawyer, 
 earnestly and unreservedly, "would be very acceptable 
 — vital, Simons. Do you mean — ?" 
 
 "I don't know exactly what I mean, just now," in- 
 terrupted Simons, ' ' but I have heard of someone who is 
 thought to know something," went on Brad non-com- 
 mittally; "and, as you are sure of my interest, Grigs- 
 comb, in your client, you can feel perfectly safe that I 
 will find the party, if it is possible, or she — he exists," 
 Brad completed his sentence in some confusion, and 
 glanced searchingly at Yv''hite. His manner, however, 
 passed unnoticed by his companions. 
 
 "Can't you tell me the name? We'll summons the 
 witness," persisted Grigscomb. 
 
 "The trouble is, I don't know," returned Brad, who 
 evidently had his own reasons, at this instant, for inter- 
 jecting the element of a scheme of alibi for John Brad- 
 dock into the situation. 
 
 "I don't mind telling you, Simons, that the kind of 
 evidence you have alluded to might save the life or lib- 
 erty of our friend John Braddock," impressively ob- 
 served Lawyer Grigscomb, "so you will not neglect to 
 keep us advised?" 
 
 "I expect," rejoined the cattleman evasively, "to 
 know more in a day or two. You can look to hear from 
 me, then." 
 
 "Well, Brad," said the attornej^ familiarly, "don't 
 keep us waiting too long," and with that the topic 
 rested. "And, now, gentlemen, in my oiSce, I have 
 some unusually fine — ahem! — " coughed the lawyer 
 discreetly, — "vail you join me?" 
 
 Both Brad Simons and William White declined the 
 implied invitation to drink with the hospitably inclined 
 
256 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 barrister, Wliite thanking the lawyer politely, and Si- 
 mons supplementing his o\\ti declination with, 
 "Next time, Grigscomb — next time." 
 "Gentlemen," then said the counsellor affably, "I 
 wish you both a pleasant good day," and moved off. 
 
 Simons and White left standing alone eyed each 
 other pretty much as two gladiators might be supposed 
 to do while waiting for an unguarded moment, on the 
 part of the adversary, in which to begin an attack. 
 White saw clearly, now, that Simons had deliberately 
 provoked an encounter. It was as easy for the one- 
 armed soldier to perceive the cause of his enemy's hos- 
 tiliy. The writer determined for De's sake to have no 
 quarrel which, in any way, could ever be said to have 
 been begun on her account. While White stood care- 
 fully regarding the face of the man before him. Brad 
 Simons' thoughts were, also, busy. 
 
 The latter had been given time, during the course of 
 Lawyer Grigscomb 's restraining presence, to see, in 
 cooler moments, the folly and impolitic mistake of en- 
 gaging in a street fight -R-ith White, as much on account 
 of the usual unamiable notoriety of such a proceeding as 
 on account of the disadvantage he himself would labor 
 under, in the popular judgment, in having forced an 
 altercation upon a maimed man. 
 
 In a low voice William White spoke : 
 
 "I think this matter has gone far enough. I'm sure 
 you do. I am going over to the hotel. ' ' 
 
 "I guess," returned Bradford Simons, "I'll be go- 
 ing the other way. ' ' 
 
 "I hope we part as friends," said Wliite. 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Simons, with a peculiar, hard „ 
 look on his face; "yes, of course, — friends, of course." 
 
 "Good day," said White, and crossed the street. 
 
WHITE "GETS INTO THE GAME." 257 
 
 "Good day," said Simons, remaining stationary, 
 and gazing in silence after the retiring figure. 
 
 As the departing writer reached the opposite side of 
 the way, the cattleman continued to gaze after him. 
 "Without removing his eyes from White's receding form, 
 and much as if he were driving his own cattle and steers 
 into the shambles and had one especially selected for 
 vindictive slaughter, he ejaculated hoarsely under his 
 breath, 
 
 * ' Damn you ! ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BOB LIKKUM MAKES AN APPOINTMENT UNDER RATHER 
 CURIOUS AND UNEXPECTED CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 While Brad Simons was approaching a state promis- 
 ing its own kind of troubles for William White, the 
 picturesque Smoky Billings was entertaining, with ihe 
 most praiseworthy and well meaning intentions, a pur- 
 pose affording a prospect of an equal and unlimited 
 amount of unrest for the literary and former military 
 character. ]\Ir. Billings was endeavoring to inspire Bob 
 Likkum wdth the notion that, in White, was the future 
 savior of the political destinies of a common and be- 
 nighted land. In other words, as Smoky put it, ' ' Mister 
 White ought to go to congress." This extraordinary 
 outburst of good will, and extreme of grateful and last- 
 ing appreciation of the happily unconscious William 
 were enthusiastically prompted by the undoubted and 
 deserved kindness with which the writer had treated the 
 former tramp; now comfortably employed, through 
 William White's good offices, at White's boarding place. 
 (The finances of White had been much restricted by the 
 foreclosure of the mortgage on his farm — an event re- 
 sulting from the bank robbery — and he had very little 
 of his own to offer his faithful admirer and friend. A 
 small sum in cash was all that yet remained to the 
 struggling writer; and the hopes of future success Avith 
 his pen spelled the rest.) When Billings first proposed 
 "Billy" for preferment to the inconceivable heights of 
 congressional honors, Mr. Likkum received the idea with 
 
 258 
 
BOB ]\IAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 259 
 
 a profoundly skeptical view. "What could a feller 
 with yaller hair an' a po'try writin' gift do where things 
 hed ter be done?" was Robert's sage comment. It next 
 struck the country luimorist, that things were not alwaj^s 
 done in congress to such an extent as to cause much loss 
 of sleep, on the part of the doers; and, in that saving 
 grace of the case, it might, after all, be just the sort of 
 tremendous exertion to which "Billy" was especially 
 adapted. Though Likkinn had no ill will to "the liter- 
 ary genius," but ratlier liked the latter personally, this 
 last conclusion seemed to offer to the comedian the 
 natural settlement of two hopeless questions. So, with- 
 out much serious thought one way or the other. Bob 
 Likkum was the first to good naturedly promise support 
 of Smoky Billings' candidate. It could not possibly 
 have been foreseen what farreaching and important 
 sequel was to conclude the half humorous and half 
 slighting consideration given this suggested representa- 
 tion of their interests at AVashington. 
 
 Jason Jump had already been outspoken for Benja- 
 min Grigscomb to represent the party opposed to that 
 of the foregoing group of political workers, and with 
 which Jump, although comparatively a newcomer in that 
 congressional district and in the state, had succeeded in 
 effectively connecting himself. The instincts which in- 
 spired this last named and rebellious soldier of fortune 
 made him particularly hostile to those things of civil 
 life which William White espoused with all the ardor of 
 a dreamer and an idealist, a poet and a scholar ; and the 
 naturally keen and penetrating mind of the once coun- 
 try editor, sharpened by its merciless and astounding 
 clash with the existing forces of the day, contrary to 
 Bob Likkum 's estimate of White, instantly appraised at 
 its true value the intelligence, honesty and conscience in 
 the soldier and writer — here was a man who, even Jason 
 
260 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Jump knev/, would, were he ever placed where such ser- 
 vice could be successfully performed, fearlessly and 
 capably serve the people and his country Jason Jump 
 had needed such service once himself; but, having been 
 in, what seemed to him, a manner hopelessly turned into 
 the present bitter course of reprisal, he stood, in his own 
 perverted and melancholy sense, irretrievably committed 
 — he no longer lived in nor breathed the atmosphere of 
 the old political days, save in its corruption, and failed 
 to accurately estimate the virtue of his surroundings save 
 in its antagonism to the law of retaliation. Heads that 
 opposed him were made to knock, and this he proposed 
 to do whenever and wherever he found them. It had 
 been made, by his persecutors and betrayers, his mission 
 to get the better of government, law and human society. 
 
 So far as Bob Likkum was concerned, had he fully 
 understood subsequent events affecting criminal control 
 of the ballot and the interests of his neighbors in gov- 
 ernmental concerns in his vicinity, that doubting though 
 genial humorist and critic would, as soon as another, 
 have arrayed himself on the side of anyone promising 
 hope of relief from the despotism of corrupt and enslav- 
 ing politicians. Evil and designing men had no place in 
 Likkum 's list of workers in the vineyard. In what fol- 
 lowed Smoky Billings' earnest and sincere introduction 
 of his benefactor into the political affairs of that locality, 
 Robert Likkum and, indeed, many others of a formerly 
 skeptical and depreciating view of literature as a prac- 
 tical means of benefiting the material interests of a com- 
 munity were destined to receive a new and valuable ad- 
 dition to their substantial stock of knowledge. 
 
 Jason Jump's own position, and that of his kind, 
 singularly enough was the first to give a serious impetus 
 to the idea of running White for a seat in the national 
 house of representatives. The uncompi-omising hostility 
 
BOB MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 261 
 
 of Jump and his associates gave Likkura and those of 
 his class their first realization of William White's value 
 and merit. Jump, served by his adherents political and 
 otherwise through a species of fear which the unscrupu- 
 lous leader had lost no time in inspiring them with, Wfis 
 correspondingly disliked and distrusted by those to 
 whom he was opposed; and, to the "best meaning ele- 
 ment," he afforded an object of complete, thorough and 
 unqualified opposition. With Benjamin Grigscomb as 
 his candidate, — a demagogue who, though a successful 
 practitioner of the law, was a tricky, shifty and unre- 
 liable factor in the varied affairs and interests of his 
 region, — Jason Jump had made considerable headway 
 towards the success of his design to control the political 
 fortunes of the congressional district in which destiny 
 had cast his own lot. It is not apparent, in any way, 
 that Grigscomb b}' direct complicity, was allied with 
 the unsavory doings of the instruments of revenge em- 
 ployed by the outlaw leader in the members of his 
 criminal organization ; but Jump and others who knew 
 Benjamin Grigscomb felt, at all times, confident in an 
 appeal to the crafty lawyer's legal talents, where any 
 interest requiring rescue from lawless consequences was 
 at stake. 
 
 William White early disclaimed responsibility for 
 Billings' advocacy of the writer as a possible national 
 representative and, while manifesting a disposition to 
 spare Smoky's feelings, announced himself as having no 
 ambition for congress. He laughed good naturedly at a 
 revival, by Brad Simons, of the latter 's jesting remarks 
 concerning the forebearance of the district in the matter 
 of the writer's literary productions; and met Bob Lik- 
 kum's well meaning and humorous sallies as to the 
 worthlessness of literature and congress collectively and 
 in particular, with the greatest possible relish and jollr 
 
262 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 good fellowship. He knew Jump but slightly; and, 
 when that wilv campaigner approached the literary man 
 ynth the appearance of a serious acceptance of the lat- 
 ter 's reported bearing to a future congressional nomi- 
 nation, White was more impressed with the implied 
 mark of present personal consideration, than he was with 
 any thoughts of future national selection. 
 
 "You would make a good race, Mr. Wliite," sincere- 
 ly observed Jason Jump. Jump reasoned that, had 
 White a serious following, his nomination would supply 
 a most formidable candidate, in principle and war 
 record ; but, having heard the light and flippant manner 
 in which the subject of any political connection of the 
 writer was referred to, he felt equally satisfied that the 
 native strength and inherent personal desirability of 
 William White would be lost. 
 
 White, once more, politely expressed himself as 
 properly sensible of Mr. Jump's compliment; but was 
 correspondingly reserved as to any other issue present 
 or to come. 
 
 The freebooter chieftain, out of disguise, perceived 
 that "his man" was conscious of the jocular meaning of 
 the principals of the latter 's "party friends(?) ;" and 
 the astute politician, sharpened by the faculty of the 
 editor, saw another danger: Should White, by his 
 natural self respect, be able to hold out against being 
 placed in a false position, his real worth, by some acci- 
 dent, might express itself, become recognized and finally 
 erect an insurmountable barrier to the outlaw. Slightly 
 disconcerted, the manager of Benjamin Grigscomb's 
 congressional interests coughed a little behind his hand, 
 looked at his watch, and was about to pretend an engage- 
 ment when, at tliis moment, the two were joined by 
 Brad Simons. William White instinctively felt that a 
 tense and imminent danger of some kind had suddenly 
 
BOB MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 263 
 
 found a missing link, and was drawing its deadly coils 
 about him, relentlessly and surely . . . He glanced 
 casually around. The action showed, standing a short 
 distance away near the public square of T , the fig- 
 ures of Bob Likkiim and Smoky Billings, in amiable and 
 social companionship. Not far from these stood Uncle 
 Peter Braddock, just starting, however, to move away. 
 A few others were scattered about, chatting, gossiping 
 and idling their time away. His glance was observed by 
 Simons as well as Jason Jump. 
 
 "Oh," laughed Simons, "not now, White. Caesar 
 will not get it, this time, in the forum. ' ' 
 
 The ex-soldier, by an intuition, looked quickly from 
 Brad to Jump to see what understanding existed be- 
 tween the two men, and caught the briefest flash of 
 intelligence pass from one to the other. Without turn- 
 ing, he became conscious of Likkum and Smoky Billings 
 sauntering toward him. Should he, at that moment, be 
 in danger of a personal attack from Simons, for some 
 reason and in some way aided and abetted by Jump, he, 
 at least, had the satisfaction of seeing tried friends at 
 hand. 
 
 "Caesar," said White, "was done to death, in the 
 public place, by friends." 
 
 "Politically," smiled Brad Simons, "you are in the 
 hands of yours." 
 
 "I am," returned the object of the other's wit, 
 "and," added significantly, "will put Antony to work 
 before, instead of after, taking." 
 
 Bob Likkiim and Smoky Billings, at that instant, 
 joined the three. 
 
 "What's the yarn?" asked Bob. "You fellers look 
 's if ye'd seen Humpty Dumply, " this illustration seem- 
 ing, to Bob's view, as expressive, in humorous irony, of 
 the appearances of the faces of those he had just joined; 
 
264 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 for their countenances were set and stern. William 
 White had put into his final speech a note of prepara- 
 tion for the struggle to come between himself and the 
 forces of the cattleman and Jason Jump, that had 
 brought a consciousness and anticipation to the breasts 
 of all. 
 
 "Your man's a threat," cried Simons gaily, "and 
 a menace, with his sharp steel pen, to the nation's for- 
 tresses on the towering heights above you ! ' ' 
 
 "Aw, come off yer perch," growled Likkum. "What 
 yo' givin' us?" 
 
 "He'll make a better man 'n yours, if he'll run," 
 said Billings, without excitement, but edging in a little 
 as he spoke. 
 
 " 'A Daniel come to judgement!' " exclaimed Sim- 
 ons. "A rival political manager. Jump." 
 
 But Grigscomb's "boss" knew politics, and said 
 nothing. Sincerity, wherever found, is a powerful and, 
 in the long long run, usually unconquerable ally; and 
 Brad's accomplice was quick to discover sincerity in the 
 words of Smoky Billings. 
 
 "Say, Simons," drawled Bob Likkum who, now 
 that he saw the drift of Brad's stinging and insulting 
 inuendoes, was up in arms not only for the "under dog 
 in the fight," but for "Billy" personally, "/ don't think 
 much o' Grigscomb, do you?" 
 
 "He has a recognized place of practical use in the 
 community," replied Simons, impersonally. 
 
 "You mean Billy, here, hain't," said Likkum. 
 "Huh!" 
 
 "I don't say," said Brad, shifting Ms look from the 
 face of Smoky Billings, where it had been resting, and 
 allowing it to sweep past White to Likkum 's resolved 
 and composed visage. 
 
BOB MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 265 
 
 "That's whut ye mean, though," retorted Bob, very 
 quietly and determinedly pressing home. 
 
 "Take it, then, as you please, Likkum," calmly re- 
 joined Bob's adversary, without removing his eyes from 
 Likkum 's. 
 
 "He's a friend o' mine," said White's champion. 
 
 "Is he?" said Simons with a sneer. 
 
 "Yes, an' a better man than you er Grigscomb ever 
 dared be." 
 
 "What do you mean?" scowled the cattleman. 
 
 "Whut I say," said the other quietly. Likkum 
 waited a moment. "You heerd me?" Bob said. 
 
 "You — you and your coming distinguished repre- 
 sentative," looking at Wliite, — "bah!" ejaculated Si- 
 mons, abruptly breaking off; "you — the whole lot of you 
 — ain't worth wasting time on." 
 
 "William White was a brave soldier," replied Lik- 
 kum composedly ; ' ' and you 're a damned liar. ' ' 
 
 Brad Simons struck a quick, short arm blow, that 
 the speaker dodged. The others interfered. Jason Jump, 
 recognizing prudence, without a word led Simons firmly 
 away, and thus put a final end to the controversy. 
 
 At the same time, "Me an' Billy,'' called Bob Lik- 
 kum, " '11 meet ye, any time, an' glad ter see ye, to 
 Washington, in his congurshunal headquarters," and 
 Robert Likkum was out for William White for congress. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 SMOKY BILLINGS DREAMS A DREAM. 
 
 "It can be did," Bob Likkum said emphatically to 
 Smoky Billings. ''I tell ye it kin." Likkum 's fighting 
 blood was aroused, after his encounter with Brad Simons ; 
 and now he was determined that his friend William 
 White should not only have the race for congress, but be 
 elected as well. The chances were generally against the 
 party that White, should he accept a nomination, would 
 represent; but, to offset this, Bob's man, at a time when 
 it counted for much, had the prestige of a good record in 
 the Civil War. "I'm a delegate," said Robert, "to 
 that 'air convention; an' I think Billy kin be nomy-- 
 nated." 
 
 If anything could have raised the speaker in Smoky 
 Billings' estimation, this unqualified espousal of the 
 cause of William White would have had that effect; 
 but Bob Likkum, as a local political influence of consid- 
 erable impor'tance, already enjoyed not only a fair share 
 of Smoky's approval but the respect and confidence, as 
 well, of all who knew him. It was not necessary, there- 
 fore, to bid for Smoky Billings' favor in the case of the 
 doughty humorist. 
 
 "That pirate Brad Simons," rejoined Billings, " '11 
 get his craft raked fore and aft, afore we git through 
 Math him." The ex-sailor was, by this time, in some of 
 "that pirate's" secrets, in a way, had the pirate been 
 informed, that would have caused the black flag of his 
 free sailing vessel to flutter and shake with certain pre- 
 
 266 
 
SMOKY DREAMS A DREAM. 267 
 
 monitory symptoms of panic before suffering itself to 
 be ignominiously hauled douTi. In other words, Smoky 
 had not been idle; "had it in for" Mr. Simons, and that 
 latter misguided gentleman had better look out. 
 
 "Did ye see Peter Braddock over there, jes' now?" 
 casually inquired Likkum, directing attention to the 
 public square, whence he and Billings had but recently 
 come. 
 
 Wliite had gone over to the bank, and Bob and 
 Smoky had remained on the scene of the late encounter 
 with Jason Jump and Brad Simons. 
 
 Smoky Billings looked around at the place where, 
 but a moment since, Braddock had stood. The latter 
 had moved away, and Likkum 's companion let his gaze 
 travel down the country street. "There he goes inter 
 the post office, now," said Billings. 
 
 "Hi, Peter," called Bob. Peter Braddock turned, 
 and Bob hurried over to meet him. 
 
 Smoky Billings was left alone. 
 
 Smoky was but a common sort of a fellow, after all ; 
 and, so, when he saw De and Mother Braddock coming 
 out of a store, where they had been doing their buying, 
 he felt a kind of shrinking up, for he had not, since the 
 lynching experience, — and, of course, never before, — 
 seen De under circumstances where he felt he might be 
 privileged to actually speak to, maybe touch the hand, 
 breathe the same atmosphere of, his divinity. He trem- 
 bled at the thought. She was so beautiful, so young, so 
 enthralling to his every sense. And he felt that he might 
 save this spirit of another world from a fate as threat- 
 ening as that from which she had rescued him, when 
 writhing in the merciless and deadly clutches of the 
 mob. De was coming toward him. His impulse was to 
 turn and flee ; but he was held to the spot. Mother Brad- 
 dock, with a word to the girl, entered another store ; and 
 
268 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 De passed on, bent upon an errand of her own. Smolc}' 
 watched her. Something fascinated him. He had a 
 fear of constant danger surrounding her. She might 
 find herself in some coil of Simons' devising, at any 
 moment. When the object of his solicitude had passed 
 out of sight, around a corner of the old red brick court- 
 house, Billings suddenly shook himself together and 
 started after her. They might run White for congress, 
 and do anything else they cared to do; but, hereafter, 
 De Braddock was to have a guardian who never slept, 
 who never thought of reward, who never rested or ate, 
 without knowing, in some way, that she was safe and 
 secure in her \argin life. It was a beautiful thing to see 
 the rough sailorman, with his rolling gait and bulky 
 figure, plowing the main in the wake of the delicate little 
 clipper built form of his idol. 
 
 "Rope's end me!" thought Smoky Billings; "what 
 port 's she bound for, now, I w^onder?" 
 
 De kept on her way, ignorant of the larger vessel 
 under whose convoy she was sailing into the peaceful 
 waters of Father 'Gorman's haven. As she stopped 
 at the rectory and entered, the man in her rear took from 
 his pocket a well smoked pipe ; filled it ; lit it ; smoked, 
 and waited like a patient dog (if dogs smoke outside the 
 pages of "Mother Goose"), until his self assumed charge 
 reappeared. When, after a spell of waiting on Smoky's 
 part, she came forth, De seemed much absorbed; doubt- 
 less having come from a visit for priestly consolation, in 
 her sore trouble about John. She did not seem to notice 
 the form of a man, who was quietly smoking on the oppo- 
 site side of the way; and proceeded hurriedly, — for 
 mother would be expecting her return, — to make her 
 way into the outskirts of the small town, where was the 
 dwelling place of Miss Primvale, here former teacher. 
 It was getting along toward the middle of the afternoon, 
 
SMOKY DREAMS A DREAM. 269 
 
 and the long drive home had yet to be made. There 
 were, in her present way, bits of open fields to pass ; and 
 ramshackle, tumbledown buildings, barns and miscella- 
 neous evidences of unsettled and abandoned living 
 places. Past this, a little ways, was ]\Iiss Primvale's. 
 De was of a fearless nature, totally without cowardice 
 of any kind. She would face anything from a spider 
 or a mouse to an unbroken horse or a mob of lynchers. 
 
 "See here, my fine lady," said a voice, breaking in 
 on her rapid, self absorbed Avalk, ' ' ye look f u 'st class ; — 
 I jes' think I'll take a bite." 
 
 De looked around, with a swift, contained manner. 
 She saw, without before perceiving her locality, that 
 she had come abreast, in a lonely spot, of a dilapidated, 
 disused stable. Out of this had issued the figure of a 
 man, wearing a piece of black cloth across his eyes, 
 which now gleamed with terrifying light through holes 
 of vision. The woman did not scream. 
 
 "I am going on," she said, with no abatement of her 
 gait. 
 
 "Now, sweetheart, I don't think ye be," chuckled 
 her waylayer. 
 
 De said nothing and liastened her steps. The ruffian, 
 with a stride, was at her side. 
 
 "Why, birdie," he exclaimed, encircling her with 
 his arm, "without a — ?" he got no further. Someone 
 sprang into the road from the unfcnced field in which 
 the barn stood ; and, with a groan, the would-be violator, 
 beneath a crushing blow, fell heavily to the earth. The 
 rescued girl stood gazing into the resolute and illumi- 
 nated countenance of Smoky Billings. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad," cried De. 
 
 "So — so be I, miss, ' ' simply replied the man. 
 
 "Just in time," said the girl, breathing quickly. 
 
 "Jest about the right time," assured the sailor, 
 
270 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 swinging a mortal-looking club above the prostrate form 
 of De's assailant, as the latter stirred from the unspar- 
 ing blow Smoky had dealt him, a moment before. 
 
 "Oh, let him go," urged De. 
 
 "Miss," said Smoky, even at this moment letting 
 himself thrill beneath the wonderful eyes he saw looking 
 into his, "I think it's best not." 
 
 "Oh, do," in her pleading, insisted the other. "He 
 did no harm. You — you," she added, "I believe, are 
 the poor fellow they tried to lynch." 
 
 Still thrilling in the beams of supernal glow emanat- 
 ing from something he conceived to be eyes. Smoky 
 admitted that such pleasure was his. 
 
 "Pleasure?" wonderingly questioned De. 
 
 The figure on the earth groaned dismally. 
 
 "Yes, miss, for you saved me." 
 
 "Oh," and in spite of herself, the blush that crept 
 over her face testified to her smiling confusion. 
 
 Smoky gave it up. He was down and out. If he 
 could only die for her ! 
 
 '"And your name is — is — Billings, I believe?" said 
 De. 
 
 "Sich they calls me," said the man, hat in hand, — 
 "Smoky Billings." 
 
 "I am going into the house, there. If you care to 
 wait about, Mr. Billings, ' ' said De, ' ' you — you, ' ' glanc- 
 ing at the man on the ground, — ' ' you might see me back 
 to town, if you would." 
 
 Would he ! 
 
 "Will you wait?" 
 
 The man said he would, and once more gave it up ! 
 It was all he could do. 
 
 And De was gone. 
 
 Billings stirred the thing at his feet with the toe of 
 his boot. "Git up," he said. 
 
SMOKY DREAMS A DREAM. 271 
 
 The defeated ruffian opened his eyes. 
 
 ''Git up," repeated Smoky. 
 
 The other struggled to his feet, uncertainly. 
 
 "Git out," said Billings, with a kick that sent the 
 fellow staggering ten feet away. 
 
 And he got. 
 
 "What j\Iother Braddock would have done when she 
 heard of the outrage to which her daughter had been 
 subjected, had she, at that moment, had her hands on 
 the perpetrator, Avould far outstrip the impatient desire 
 to tell. And, of a truth, Peter Braddock, as became him, 
 grew grave in the telling ]\Iartha of these dangers of 
 which he had before reminded her. The country, with- 
 out success, was scoured for the offender; and Smoky 
 said nothing about his deliberately releasing the miscre- 
 ant at someone's "slightest wish and pleasure." 
 
 Smoky was in a dream, certain rapt portions of 
 which kept sacredly to himself none other might ever 
 know; but other suggestions from that dreaming state 
 communicated themselves to William White, with whom 
 Billings lost no time in conferring. The seafaring bene- 
 ficiary of the literary man had drawn closer and 
 closer to De's lover w-ho, at last, found it an unrestricted 
 and grateful privilege to discuss with the faithful and 
 devoted subject of De Braddock 's rescue from the lynch- 
 ers the general ground of his own apprehension concern- 
 ing the part the outlaws must have in De's life, o\\ang 
 to the singular nature of the broken utterances of Rachel 
 Bolers — words that had resulted in having White forc- 
 ibly conveyed to the outlaws' cave. 
 
 "If it's her 'at needs the secrets uv them murderers 
 of the high seas," said Smoky Billings, "they'll give 
 'em up to me, an' their cave, an' all they've got. God 
 Almighty, ]\Ir. White, couldn't keep me back." 
 
272 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "I don't think he'll try, Smoky," said White, 
 smiling. 
 
 "You're the only one 'at's good enough fur 'er," 
 pursued the impassioned friend of De Braddock and 
 William White. 
 
 "Better leave that out," rejoined the other. 
 
 "We'll elect ye both fur congress," continued the 
 irrepressible Billings, with an ecstatic wave of his hand. 
 
 "And so you think one wouldn't be enough to pun- 
 ish?" suggested Wliite, mildly. 
 
 "Not near enough," grinned Smoky. 
 
 "Well, we'll see," replied the menaced writer, sim- 
 ply. "But, Smoky, if we don't look sharp, we'll have 
 no congress for anybody, so far as — she is concerned. ' ' 
 
 Technical nautical language referring to the eyes 
 and limbs and other portions of the anatomy of the 
 outlaws, and being recorded in the speech of White's 
 resolved friend, but unsuitable for publication, ex- 
 pressed a determination, on the part of Smoky Billings, 
 to thwart the evil intentions of those conspiring against 
 De Braddock 's peace and safety, or very cheerfully, 
 eagerly, gladly die in the attempt, day or night, through 
 all eternity ! 
 
 "Billings," said William White, soberly, still recall- 
 ing the experiences of the cave and Rachel Bolers' use 
 of Simons' name, "Brad Simons is mixed up in this 
 pursuit of — her ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' It wa 'n 't Simons 'at waylaid 'er, ' ' hastily supplied 
 Billings. "That I knoivs." Smoky pinched his nose 
 and himself into a state of profound thoughtfulness, and 
 bored his employer's eyes with a continual and intent 
 speculation in his own twinkling, keen and shrewd ones. 
 
 "That may be, but his influence is either felt or she 
 is, otherwise, in the greatest danger from him." 
 
 "Ain't any doubt about it, at all," said Smoky. 
 
SMOKY DREAMS A DREAIM. 273 
 
 ' ' And none, that we '11 uncover him ? ' ' 
 
 "None, at all," proclaimed White's man, emphatic- 
 ally, with a picture of his beloved divinity De Braddock, 
 in his soul, waving, as an angel of beauty and light, him 
 on ahead! 
 
 Without, in the night, the distant whippoorwill 
 called to its mate ; and a nightingale, finding rest on its 
 pilgrimage, in a glade nearby, gurgled its bright love 
 song to the woods and heart of solitude. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 BILLINGS AND SIMONS (LIMITED), FURNISHERS OP 
 INTERESTING AND EXCITING NEWS. 
 
 The evening of the day on which Uncle Peter and 
 
 party had gone to T to look after the Kentucky 
 
 relative, saw the familiar Braddock red wagon return- 
 ing to the farm. The country vehicle had arrived oppo- 
 site Widow Walmsey 's, when a sudden stoppage of the 
 homeward bound company occurred. Widow Walmsey 
 was at her gate, manifesting, through various compli- 
 cated signals, a wish to "speak" Uncle Peter's vessel. 
 This latter outfit, upon coming to a halt and being re- 
 lieved of the rattle and clank of laboring machinery, was 
 hailed by the friendly ship, which Uncle Peter was about 
 "to pass in the night," ■\\dtli, 
 
 "Do tell me, Uncle Peter, what 'bout your relation 
 Hiram? Same as I met, that time, at your house, ain't 
 he ? Is he much sick ? Was it him ? Did you bring him 
 along? Say—? And John?" 
 
 To what further length these fev/ inquiries directed 
 in the search of knowledge, by the fair widow, would 
 have continued, had not interruption transpired, would 
 be impossible to say. As it was, the fat farmboy Esau, 
 at this instant, announced from the front seat of the red 
 wagon, in a flat and dogmatic tone, 
 
 "There's Job Sa'nders to the "\Aander," the effect of 
 which speech presented to the minds of those upon the 
 premises the view of a gentleman of Mr. "Sa'nders' " 
 personal appearance very leisurely displaying himself, 
 
 274 
 
BILLINGS AND SIMONS. 275 
 
 within, at the widow's front window, between himp light 
 and the outer deepening night. lie was regaling him- 
 self with a flagon of refreshing beverage of sort unknown 
 to the assembled spectators; and which goodly drink 
 thriving Job is surmised to have obtained, and strolled 
 to the aforesaid window to consume and witness the pro- 
 ceedings going on without at one and the same time. 
 
 "Well," retorted Uncle Peter, allowing his pent up 
 disgust with the guileless Esau to find sudden and ex- 
 plosive vent, "what if it is, ye booby?" 
 
 "Ain't no booby, nuther," replied Esau in a world 
 of offense. 
 
 "Ye ought to be in a loonytic 'sylum, there's where 
 ye ought to be," asserted the judicial minded Uncle 
 Peter. 
 
 ' ' Oughtn 't, ' ' stoutly denied the f armboy, — "ye 
 knows I oughtn't," persisted Esau, as though preven- 
 tion of the instant confinement of his fat person in the 
 nearest retreat for the afflicted in mind depended solely 
 upon the character of defense the said Esau could make, 
 that night, in the red wagon halted in the open high- 
 way. 
 
 "Durned ef I don't think ye ought," added Uncle 
 Peter, with a last touch of decision. — "Bad, Mis' Walm- 
 sey," continued the reprover of Esau; "ye see, Hiram's 
 thought to be pooty close onto nowhere, 't all," and the 
 old Hoosier removed his hat, and passed a hand over his 
 suit of thick, iron gray hair. 
 
 "Ye mean," said the widow in a tone of solicitude, 
 ''that — ?" 
 
 "Yes, widder, ain't much chanst of his pullin' 
 through. Guess I'll go down, ag'in, in the mornin'. As 
 fur John, widder, the Lord is our stay ! ' ' 
 
 "Mighty sorry, Uncle Peter," in a voice of compas- 
 
276 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 sionate sjniipathy, said Mrs. "Walmsey, " 'bout Hiram, 
 an' the Lord be good to ye 'bout John!" 
 
 "Yes, I know ye be," simply replied the farmer, 
 from the wagon, "an' amen." 
 
 It was this touch of sympathy and consideration 
 among these country folk that gave a simple genuine- 
 ness to their characters ; and, at all times, rendered them 
 helpful and neighborly in the true spirit of community. 
 
 ' ' Won 't you — all on you — git down, a minute ? ' ' 
 asked the widow who, without, in any way be it hoped, 
 impairing, in the minds of the reader, the sincere qual- 
 ity of her hospitality, it will yet have to blushingly be 
 confessed extended her invitation not without giving a 
 fleeting and regretful thought to the loss of certain vag- 
 rant though highly proper charms of solitary enjoyment 
 in the society of one Job Saunders then waiting within 
 the house, — ' ' do, now, — come, i\Iarthy, do get out. ' ' 
 
 White had already descended from the wagon, hav- 
 ing, in arriving at the widow's door, reached his own 
 abiding place. — The widow was poor, and the writer's 
 small board money was a boon to her. — William White 
 very earnestly joined his landlady in her invitation to 
 the farmer's party to tarry for a moment. The perfume 
 of the sweet smelling honeysuckle, at the corner of the 
 house, added its subtle and alluring breath. 
 
 Uncle Peter had hesitated; when Wliite's additional 
 solicitations increased the former's inability to decide 
 this passing question of natural relaxation. 
 
 "Mother, what d' ye say?" propounded the farmer. 
 
 "Jus' ez you say, Peter," was Mother Braddock's 
 conclusion, — "ef you feel like it." 
 
 There was certainly a waste of deliberations in re- 
 spect of one member of the red-wagon party, for White 
 had taken De's hand, and the rare maid already stood 
 
BILLINGS AND SIMONS. 277 
 
 appropriately close to the side of William in the road- 
 way. 
 
 There was no longer any demur and the visitors en- 
 tered ]Mrs. Walmsey's cozy parlor. 
 
 Job Saunders received with anything but satisfac- 
 tion the entrance into AVidow Walmsey's home of the 
 Braddock contingent ; and sulked, off and on, in a corner, 
 for the balance of the evening, indulging beneath his 
 breath in profanity enough to have set the ears of the 
 simple and goodly company tingling till doomsday. 
 
 "There are others," however; and Brad Simons, at 
 a discreet distance, following the Braddock farm wagon 
 
 from T , and seeing the same empty itself in front 
 
 of Widow Walmsey's door, like an overburdened carry- 
 all sensible of its opportunity to rest, — Brad Simons is 
 here ; and another of increasing importance in our nar- 
 rative is here, likewise, — Mr. Smoky Billings is here. 
 In fine, the firm of furnishers of interesting and exciting 
 news, Messrs. Billings and Simons (limited), has arrived. 
 
 As Mrs. Walmsey passed into the house with the 
 others, she was overheard to say, in a manner of natural 
 consideration obtaining in the country for horses and 
 cattle of all kind, and addressing the words to William 
 Wliite, who was just in advance of her : 
 
 "If the horses want anything, William, will you 
 have that Smoky man of yours attend to them ? ' ' 
 
 William White, in yielding to his original impulse 
 of interest in Billings, had employed him, or assisted in 
 causing his employment, on the premises of the Widow 
 Walmsey. It is but fair and just to Smoky to say, that, 
 in the humble duties of the modest establishment of the 
 widow, he had shown himself perfectly trustworthy and 
 reliable. His compensation was not large, and of the 
 small remuneration White satisfied the greater portion. 
 Billings' demands consisted chiefly of sufficient clothing 
 
278 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 to protect him from exposure to the elements, and 
 enough food to save him from privations of appetite, the 
 last named provision, together with a shelter, being the 
 only part the widow was obliged to sustain in the ex- 
 pense of Smoky's emplojTiient. The question of shelter, 
 of course, put the straightened circumstances of Mrs. 
 Walmsey to no additional charge; and Smoky Billings' 
 healthy Indiana appetite was carefully and guardedly 
 watched, by William, who secretly stood ready to indem- 
 nify the widow, in this latter respect, should occasion 
 require. 
 
 As Simons approached the gate, Billings came out 
 into the road to observe the new arrival and, in the 
 darkness, by closer inspection, determine his identity. 
 At the same time, Esau, late mentally denounced by 
 Uncle Peter, was busying himself at the heads of the 
 horses. 
 
 "Good evening, friend," saluted Simons, from horse- 
 back, as the cattleman perceived the now neatly attired 
 figure of Billings, but failing in the gloom to recognize 
 the former tramp. 
 
 "Evenin'," responded Billings. "Cast anchor and 
 land?" asked Smoky, -wdth an affable turn of nautical 
 phraseology. 
 
 "What's that?" said Simons, for a moment puzzled 
 by the oddity of the fellow's form of speech. 
 
 "Get off and hitch," said Smoky. 
 
 ' ' Oh ! ' ' replied the grazier. ' ' Think I shall, ' ' and 
 Simons proceeded to dismount from his horse. "Ah," 
 said he, as his feet touched the road, "it's you, is it?" 
 and the cattle raiser gazed into the features of Smoky 
 Billings, familiar to him from the day of the picnic. 
 "How 'd you get here?" inquired Brad Simons. 
 
 "The fairies didn't pilot me, neither did the angels," 
 stolidly rejoined Billings; " 'but,' as the feller says, 
 
BILLINGS AND SIMONS. 279 
 
 'I've arriv'. ' How 'd you come?" The question was 
 put by the speaker in such a tone of seemingly innocent 
 inquiry, that, at first, it struck Simons with no sense of 
 unusual or personal liberty. After a second of time, 
 however, it entered his mind, that such a query had no 
 special bearing upon the proprieties of his reception at 
 the hands of the apparently unconscious party leading 
 the stock merchant's horse to the hitch rail. He, there- 
 fore, called out in a weak, though astonished voice, 
 
 "What's that to you?" 
 
 "Thought it might mean about the same as my bein' 
 here meant to you," replied the man, with an admir- 
 able appearance of innocence and candor. 
 
 "You did, did you?" half growled Simons. "Well, 
 my comings and goings have no part in your business, do 
 you hear?" said the eattel dealer loudly. 
 
 "Couldn't help hearin' yer hail, mister," said 
 Smoky, with easy indifference ; ' ' but, ' ' added the man to 
 himself, ' ' I don 't know about my havin ' no part in your 
 log book. Maybe," said Billings aloud and with aggra- 
 vating calmness, "you'd like to hire me, when you got 
 anything to do, — you might give me a odd job or two." 
 
 "See here, bring back that horse, — or," ejaculated 
 Brad, striding up, "I'll hitch my own horse. You seem 
 a little too busy, here," — the cattleman reached for his 
 horse's bridle, — "and impertinent enough, at that." 
 
 "That's about correct, mister," said Smoky, ignor- 
 ing the last of Simons' retort, and proceeding, with the 
 utmost composure, to complete the hitching of Simons" 
 horse, — ' ' that 's what I am — kept pretty busy here — 
 have been ever since you had that 'ere talk with your- 
 housekeeper, that time." 
 
 "What do you mean?" gasped Brad, whose breath 
 was suddenly taken through this intimation, on Billings* 
 part, of a knowledge of his private affairs. 
 
289 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Oh, nothin','" answered the man. He completed 
 the fastening of Brad's horse to the hitching rail; and, 
 having shown no concern in voice or manner, turned, 
 with a similarly undisturbed and satisfied deportment, 
 to where the farraboy was just finishing like services for 
 Peter Braddock's team. "Say, you side of a barn," — 
 this indecorous though, in no way, ill meant speech being 
 delivered, by Smoky Billings, to the subject of Farmer 
 Braddock's recent views as to the need of a lunatic asy- 
 lum — the much abused Esau. 
 
 The farmboy, with becoming dignity, wished to know 
 if his ears had heard aright in gathering that Mr. Bill- 
 ings had addressed him as a "side of a barn." 
 
 "That's what's o'clock, my hearty," retorted the ex- 
 tramp cheerily. "Stir around, or you'll take root," the 
 last to further animate the farmboy, who had paused in 
 an attitude of freezing scorn. "Have you got them 
 bosses all right!" 
 
 This free and easy address, on the part of Smoky 
 Billings, conveying, in the last question, a suggestion of 
 doubt as to the farmboy 's professional capacity in the 
 care of horses, and coming from an, heretofore, unheard 
 of "nobody" in such vocations, added to the ignominy 
 of being called a "side of a barn," was too much for the 
 farmboy. With a look of withering scorn, tempered by 
 a polite contempt, Esau turned from Smoky and, in 
 proper silence, would have left that easy going gentle- 
 man hopelessly frizzling beneath his disdain, but for the 
 humane and harmonizing arrival of William White. 
 
 White, at this crisis, appearing with a lantern, hand- 
 ed ttie same to the fat boy, remarking, 
 
 "Esau, you and Smoky get water for these horses." 
 
 Simons had bottled his own wrath ; and, to whatever 
 effect the meaning of Billings' remarks relating to 
 Simons' housekeeper had extended, kept his own counsel 
 
BILLINGS AND SIMONS. 281 
 
 respecting that burst of confidence from White's facto- 
 tum. Deigning no furtlier notice of the impenetrable 
 road artist, he proceeded into the house. 
 
 The scene presented within Widow Walmsey's cheer- 
 ful, lamp lit parlor was one of quiet interest and repose, 
 with the exception of a show of despondent and melan- 
 choly sentimentality, which oozed from the pores of the 
 heart stricken Job Saunders, and which was intensified 
 every time Job looked up at the tall, old fashioned clock 
 standing by the widow's parlor door, and noted the 
 lapse of those precious moments which he had come pre- 
 pared to spend in the widow's exclusive society. 
 
 Simons approached De. 
 
 "I have," said he, in a low tone, as he reached her 
 side, "something to say concerning your brother. Will 
 you hear it?" 
 
 The wish farthest from De 's heart, at any other time, 
 would have been to have communication with this man. 
 After the meeting in Ann Mariah's garden, she had dis- 
 missed as unworthy of further consideration one who 
 could act as Simons did, that day. But circumstances 
 had altered since then. She did not hesitate, and re- 
 plied that she would hear him. 
 
 Simons' manner evinced that privacy was desired, 
 and she rose, and De and Brad passed from the room 
 and out into the night. 
 
 Those remaining in the road without, after the others 
 had entered the house, had evidently departed, and the 
 man and woman were alone. 
 
 "Miss De," began Simons, "I wish, first, to apologize 
 for my conduct at Ann Mariah Saunders'." 
 
 There was the ring of genuine regret for his previous 
 misconduct in the man's voice, and De, v/orked upon as 
 she was, felt it. 
 
 **Do not, I beg, Mr. Simons," returned the girl, "say 
 
282 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 any more about that day. I am sure," said she, in her 
 serious plight, "I — we all have need of charity and 
 consideration. Let all that pass. You were saying, ' ' she 
 prompted, "that you had something to tell me about 
 John. What is it?" 
 
 They had removed several paces from the door into 
 the yard. 
 
 Brad Simons, without further waiting, replied: 
 
 "Frankly, I hardly think it is w^orth while for me 
 to say, that your brother can scarcely be suspected of 
 guilt in this affair, for which he is now suffering confine- 
 ment; but," and here the speaker's voice grew grave, 
 "there are some," placing an impressive emphasis upon 
 the last word, — "some circumstances attending the mis- 
 take which render me more than anxious for the out- 
 come of his trial." 
 
 The other's heart had given a glad bound, when 
 Simons had expressed his apparently open estimate of 
 her brother's innocence; and it sank to a corresponding 
 degree, when the professed friend concluded in such dis- 
 heartening terms. Doubtless, Brad was duly alive to 
 this effect of his adroit speech, and continued, 
 
 "I have conceived a plan by which it is possible I 
 may be able to assist in extricating John from his un- 
 pleasant dilemma, — who, in truth, De, should no relief 
 come to aid him, might come to — " 
 
 ' ' Wliat — what would happen ? ' ' breathed the thor- 
 oughly alarmed girl in accents of suspense. 
 
 "De, wall you forget my conduct in the garden, and 
 be, at all events, my friend, once more ? I will not men- 
 tion the alternative to John, but — " 
 
 "I have said, Mr. Simons, that — that — well, why, 
 yes, of course, I will be — we are friends, — of course," 
 went on the stricken woman, scarcely knowing what she 
 
BILLINGS AND SIMONS. 283 
 
 was saying, — "of course — help John — get him free — 
 oh ! do, if it is, in any way, in your power. ' ' 
 
 "Your brother is very dear to you, — could you not 
 bid me hope, that some day, should I show you the way 
 to safely redeem him from these unjust suspicions, I 
 might — " 
 
 "Oh, De," called William White, "where are you?" 
 and White was seen standing in the door of Mrs. Walm- 
 sey's dwelling, peering vainly into the shroud of dark- 
 ness without. 
 
 "Oh! save him — save him, if you can; that is all, — 
 save him," appealed John Braddock's sister, under her 
 breath, obeying some uncontrolled and secret instinct to 
 suppress the nature of this inter^^ew from any over- 
 hearing ear. 
 
 "De," once more called William White. 
 
 A man stepped out of the neighboring darkness, and, 
 unperceived, approaching the figures of Brad Simons 
 and the whispering girl, reached the elbow of Simons 
 before either the latter or his companion were aware of 
 his presence. 
 
 "I say, gov'nur, don't you think the night air a mite 
 chilly fur a young lady? Country air is rayther damp. 
 Besides, the young gent is waitin'. " Smoky Billings, 
 with his feet planted wide apart and firmly on the 
 ground, stood before Brad Simons and uttered this 
 speech without any more expression than to take one 
 hand from a pocket and wave it negligently toward Will- 
 iam White, who was seen advancing in the direction 
 whence the notes of Billings' voice, raised a trifle high 
 for the purpose, had floated to his ears upon the night 
 air. 
 
 "William," hurriedly exclaimed De Braddock, "Mr. 
 Simons was — " 
 
 "Some news of her brother John," finished Simons, 
 
284 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 silently grinding his teeth and endeavoring to control 
 the spasm of rage that seized him in contemplating the 
 unmoved form of Smoky in the indistinct near vicinity. 
 Smoky Billings, seeing his goddess safely under the pro- 
 tecting care of White, and whistling softly "Annie 
 Laurie," moved with self possessed and undisturbed 
 tread slowly from the scene and vanished in the adja- 
 cent shadows of the night. 
 
 Before reaching the door of the wdow's abode, Brad 
 found opportunity to whisper, in De 's ear, an impressive 
 necessity for secrecy. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 DE AND WILLIAM. — "dO YOU LOVE ME?" "l DO." 
 
 "then why — ?" 
 
 When Brad Simons enjoined secrecy upon her, De, 
 involuntarily and in a low assent, responded : 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 And Brad, for the time being, was compelled to be 
 satisfied. 
 
 William White was not. 
 
 In the first place, it had affected the writer most 
 unpleasantly to see the girl of his heart alone, at night, 
 in the yard, with the cattleman. 
 
 Call it jealousy; level all the philosophy, commonly 
 unattainable to mortals, at the frame of mind of William 
 White ; invoke that perfect and absolute trust and faith, 
 which should be accorded the average and so called per- 
 fect loves of man and woman, as you will ! still, at times, 
 we fall to wondering at and petulantly criticising the 
 acts of those best and most beloved. 
 
 In William White's case, however, it is but fair to 
 say, that these experiences were not only involuntary, 
 but, soon checked in the light of calmer reflection, be- 
 came the vitalizing processes by which the flower of reso- 
 lution long in the bud blossomed and bore fruit. It 
 was thus spurred by impulse, that De's lover determined 
 upon prompt action. He resolved to let no time elapse 
 without, at least, telling De he loved her. 
 
 Widow Walmsey's little parlor was aglow -udth the 
 
 285 
 
286 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 efforts which the widow had put forth for the solace 
 and entertainment of her neighbors and guests. 
 
 The quaint, antique clock, rearing its tall, oldtime 
 form near the widow's door, had chimed half past nine. 
 
 Simons, who was a companion of no mean parts, had 
 really served a useful turn in rallying Job Saunders a 
 bit out of his sulks, and in diffusing a species of encour- 
 agement in the hearts of John Braddock's family; Job 
 had strummed the old guitar, which was a relic left by 
 the late Walmsey, and drawn a few notes of convulsed 
 agony from the patient instrument under the genial and 
 thawing influence of Simons' manner; and the widow 
 and De, the latter making effort to appear cheerful and 
 to contribute to the pleasure of the others, had sung a 
 bar or two, in duet, with weird and extraordinary accom- 
 paniment, by Job, upon the guitar, and Uncle Peter had 
 dozed, nodded, fallen asleep and, with a jerk, been awak- 
 ened by mother. 
 
 Eefreshments had been served, and Uncle Peter, at 
 last, had dropped into hopeless slumber, in his chair. 
 Mother Braddock, her heart with John, was trying to 
 prolong affairs, for the sake of De and William. An 
 aggravated attack of sulks, on Job's part, superinduced 
 by the widow having fixed her eyes upon Simons during 
 a brief conversation between Brad and herself on the 
 subject of affairs of the heart and politics, had super- 
 vened. 
 
 Out in the road, Esau and Smoky had amicably ad- 
 justed their differences; and the first faint edge of the 
 moon was preceding its silvern face just above the tops 
 of the eastern wood, when White, with De, emerged from 
 the widow's door. 
 
 The sweet smelling honeysuckle was scenting all 
 about; subdued sounds of voices, presumably those of 
 the reconciled Smoky and Esau, came in droning hum 
 
"DO YOU LOVE ME?" 287 
 
 from the wagon in the road; an occasional and not im- 
 pleasing chord, struck from the guitar by Job to keep 
 the jealous performer in touch with the joint converse 
 of the trying Widow Walmsey and Brad Simons, was 
 borne upon the air without, and the moon rose higher. 
 
 The Newfoundland dog came up to his mistress, as 
 she and William stood in the widow's yard, and rubbed 
 against her dress, and wagged his tail in assurance of 
 friendship and deathless devotion, and walked away. 
 
 A sound of wild, eerie song floated to the lingering 
 lovers from the fields: 
 
 Bonny, my child, 
 
 Bonny and wee, 
 Eyes blue and mild, 
 
 That only can see 
 Mother above, bending- and low. 
 
 Over thy cradle, 
 Rocking- thee so." 
 
 The strain was wild and sad, and De instinctively 
 drew to the side of White, as she fancied the figure of the 
 demented singer Rachel Bolers flitting, unreally in and 
 out of the moonlight, over the fields and through the 
 woods beyond. 
 
 The lover felt the touch, and caught from her a 
 breath of purity in his own quick breathing, and his 
 soul took fire. 
 
 "De — " he whispered, softly. 
 
 The girl was silent, under the spell of the hour; her 
 thoughts, however, not more with her present surround- 
 ings than hovering and dwelling in a lonely cell, where 
 was a man waiting for trial of liberty, — perhaps, — she 
 knew not, — life, itself! She saw him, in this hour of 
 the evening moon climbing on high, in undeserved and 
 
288 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 unmerited prison exile. Her eyes suffused and softened 
 with tears. 
 
 Another softly spoken, "De," from her companion 
 brought no reply from the preoccupied girl. 
 
 What if Simons could aid John ? Could she, if any- 
 thing happened to her brother, ever feel justified or for-* 
 given if she had neglected to contribute her mite, how- 
 ever small, to his rescue? 
 
 White could not read what was passing in the mind 
 of the troubled sister. His lack of egotism would not 
 consent to think she was yielding to the spell of enchant- 
 ment in moonlight and honeysuckle steeping his own 
 soul in bliss unutterable ; and, yet, he could hope. 
 
 ' ' De, ' ' pleaded the man. 
 
 Her thoughts continued to run: She knew only too 
 well what Brad Simons would wish, — she knew the sac- 
 rifice expected of her. She was, at that moment, most in 
 need of a kindly world wise friend to advise her. She 
 was alone — with her best loved at her side, alone. An 
 entire subservience to the will of Simons held her in 
 bonds of silence, and prevented, if not forbade, her 
 speaking to William of Simons' proffered aid or obvious 
 motive. 
 
 It is, in this manner, lurking beneath the graver 
 interests of life, that superstitious terror and dread of 
 we know not what work incalculable evil ; and this 
 knowledge may help us, as far as possible, to remove 
 from our affairs that secrecy which restrains our liberty 
 in the interest of so questionable a design as that which 
 actuated De's persecutor. 
 
 William drew the girl's arm wdthin his own, and felt 
 it tremble. 
 
 "I was thinking of John," said De, simply. 
 
 "I cannot think he will suffer," ventured White, 
 compassionately. 
 
''DO YOU LOVE ME?" 289 
 
 "I do not know," replied the other, absently and 
 sadly. 
 
 "De, you must know what is in my mind and heart, 
 tonight," said White; while, at the critical moment of 
 his own life, realizing the time and stress of his loved 
 one's sorrows. 
 
 * ' I wonder, ' ' said the girl, in one of those unaccount- 
 able bursts of digression which come to us at the most 
 incongruous times, "if Job's father will ever return," 
 and the two listened, in momentary silence, to one of 
 Job's especially emphatic chords upon the guitar aimed, 
 by the disconsolate and sentimental musician, with par- 
 ticularly pointed venom at a serious climax in the rela- 
 tions of Simons and the widow. 
 
 White stilled his own disappointment, and made a 
 quiet and commonplace attempt at reply in the remark : 
 
 "The widow stands a' poor chance without Job's in- 
 heritance. ' ' 
 
 At this, De followed out William's interpretation of 
 her own observation, with a sad, troubled little laugh. 
 
 "De," again said William, "can you listen to me?" 
 
 She involuntarily endeavored to detach herself from 
 the trend of thought that had been stealing over her in 
 the affairs of her brother, and, turning to White, replied, 
 
 "Yes, — what is it?" with no apprehension of what 
 was coming. 
 
 "You have been so much to me, in all my thoughts 
 and aims; you have been the confidante of my higher 
 and better purposes ; you have been so faithful in friend- 
 ship, and so true, in the past, in all that seems good and 
 worthy, that — that — I have come to look upon you as 
 a goal for all the ways of my life, a temple to reach in 
 the long way ahead, and in which my altar of days is 
 builded: I love you, my own, my heart!" 
 
 The solemn night echoed the words; the clinging 
 
290 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 honeysuckle vine perfumed, mth its rarest blossom and 
 flower, the air of that "temple" builded not only "in 
 the long way ahead," but builded then, builded in the 
 remote and dim ages of the past, builded for all time 
 and all eternity ; and the mystic and beaming splendors 
 of the ancient and hoary moon touched with loving 
 sweetness and power the burning moments. 
 
 "William," softly replied the girl, "I am — not 
 myself to-night. Could you wait? Sometime — " 
 
 It wrenched the lover to hear her say it ! There are 
 moments when, wrought to the highest pitch of love, hope 
 and anticipation, it seems w^e cannot accept denial. At 
 least, it seemed so to William White. 
 
 ' ' But, De, ' ' he could not understand ; how could he ? 
 ' ' why not now ? " he paused and stood before her. Some- 
 one laughed, uproariously, in the wagon, — it sounded 
 like Smoky Billings. 
 
 "I — I — cannot — I am not able — you will wait, 
 William, I know?" appealingly cried the girl, lifting her 
 swimming eyes to his. 
 
 "De, there is something between us I do not under- 
 stand. Has it anything to do with — with Brad 
 Simons?" a note of hoarseness broke sharply in the 
 speaker's voice. 
 
 "Oh! William," cried the heart broken one, "do 
 not ask me." 
 
 "De," said the man, with forced calm, "do you love 
 me?" 
 
 And De answered, 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Then, why—?" 
 
 De, my child," said the quiet voice of Mother Brad- 
 dock, at Mrs. Walmsey's door, "it's time we wuz 
 a-movin '. ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ESAU MAKES A DISCOVERY OF INCREASING MYSTERY AND 
 BEWILDERMENT. 
 
 Esau entered the barn. It was morning. The farm- 
 boy had been instructed, by Uncle Peter Braddock, to 
 grease the harness. He entered the stable whistling the 
 stirring air, ' ' Run, girls, run, the fire 's in the haymow ! " 
 The whistler's tones were clear and piercing, and the 
 effect of the effort might have caused very free and will- 
 ing flight of any listener, male or female, to the ear 
 splitting performance. As Esau entered the barn, he 
 gave a fat, rolling kick at a stray porker wandering, in 
 grunting laziness, through the broad midway aisle of the 
 shelter for objects of farm life. The smell of the hay in 
 the loft, mingled with that from the horses in their stalls, 
 followed Esau into the compartment used for harness, 
 and combined a most agreeable and stable odor Avitli the 
 the penetrating smell of long-greased leather. 
 
 When Esau had reached his destination, and the con- 
 clusion of his musical efforts, he changed his whistling 
 tones to those of surprised speech and exclaimed, 
 
 * ' Now, I '11 be darned ! who 's been in this here harness 
 room ? ' ' 
 
 Evidence of great confusion and unaccustomed dis- 
 order, in the immediate locality, appeared to justify 
 Esau's exclamation of wonderment. Horse collars, 
 hames, old skeleton saddletrees, buggy and wagon traces, 
 and all the articles and odds and ends of hitching gear 
 
 291 
 
292 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 familiar to the human necessities for the horse, lay in 
 confusion about the floor. 
 
 Esau stood and gazed helplessly at this abuse of his 
 orderly department; and, at length, with his foot, aim- 
 lessly pushed aside a piece of harness, as it lay upon the 
 floor before him. A small slip of paper, lying concealed 
 beneath the object thus displaced, now became visible. 
 Esau stooped and picked up the bit of paper. The scrap 
 was a portion of an old envelope. On the fragment, in 
 one corner, still remained the name and address of some 
 firm in Chicago, the description of the nature of whose 
 business had been torn away in the process which had 
 left the ragged remains. Esau poured over his find, de- 
 ciphered Anth his little school learning the printed Chi- 
 cago item and fell in defeat before some written charac- 
 ters appearing in an almost illegible scrawl on the bal- 
 ance of the scrap. Esau could not read writing. 
 
 "I'll show that 'ere to Miss De," said the boy refer- 
 ring, like with all other ciuestions giving rise to perplex- 
 ity of his sluggish intellect, the matter of the puzzling 
 piece of writing to his one infallible authority. 
 
 The farmboy, without more ado, and thrusting the 
 slip of paper into a pocket of his butternuts, proceeded 
 methodically to replace, in their accustomed places, the 
 elements of disorder that had found unaccountable rest- 
 ing place upon the floor. He then got out the harness 
 grease and went so far as to treat several pieces of har- 
 ness therewith, when his interest reawakened in the 
 scrap of paper, accompanied, as that latter article was, 
 by the circumstances of the mysterious invasion of the 
 Braddock barn ; the position of affairs finally impelling 
 the farmboy, at this point, to rise from a nail keg, upon 
 which he had been sitting, and to walk straight into the 
 house and up to De Braddock, who was scouring knives. 
 He, here, asked bluntly and without preliminary, 
 
INCREASING BEWILDERMENT. 293 
 
 "What's that?" Esau accompanied his question 
 with a movement which, without much cetemony, thrust 
 the piece of envelope right under tlie pleasing nose of 
 pretty De. 
 
 "Why, Esau," said De good naturedly, "how you 
 do startle one ! What 's what, you great big fellow ? ' ' 
 
 "That," said the boy. 
 
 ' ' This — this piece of paper ? Why, nothing that I 
 can see, — stay — wait — why, Esau, where — ? Oh, 
 mother," broke off De, "see," and the girl ran to her 
 mother. 
 
 Farmer Braddock, here, entered the kitchen. 
 
 "I say, Esau," exclaimed Braddock, "I beat ye, this 
 mornin', 'ith that harness. I got out there an' tuk it all 
 down. Have to straighten that 'air harness room out 
 some, I reckon. Ye' bin out there? Had to go away, I 
 did, to git that there plaguey heifer out'n the woods — 
 strays away, all the time." The farmer did not appear 
 to notice the preoccupation of those present, and ran on 
 in a talkative, interested vein. ' ' Seen some fellers sneak- 
 in' aroun', down there, by the river — that darn cuss, 
 weth a big, black beard, 'at they talk so much about bein' 
 th' leader uv them thieves, wuz with 'em, too. Thought 
 I seen som^e women, er somep'n, a-follerin' 'em. I got 
 the heifer, an' they all skinned out, w'en they see me, 
 I tell ye. 'YGosh!— " 
 
 The shadows and the phantoms were ever wanly jig- 
 ging, ever drawing nearer; but the fat boy, for the 
 moment, unconsciously intercepted their further eerie 
 gloom. 
 
 "Yep, — I put the hull biz'ness back on the pegs," 
 answered Esau to Braddock 's question as to the farm- 
 boy's previous presence in the barn. The fat boy ignored 
 the latter part of Mr. Braddock 's remarks; accepting, 
 likewise, in stolid and additional silence, his explana- 
 
294 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 tion of the disorder lately discovered in Uncle Peter's 
 stable; but unsatisfied about the paper. 
 
 'Mis' thought, I did, 'at I'd do a leet'le, myself; 
 but it 's all right. Do it your own way. Mother — w^hy, 
 what's the matter?" ejaculated Peter; "ye look — you 
 an ' De — like ye 'd seen a ghost ! ' ' 
 
 Indeed, Mrs. Braddock and her daughter were ex- 
 pressive images of surprise and dismay. 
 
 "You know anything 'bout this here, Peter," asked 
 Mrs. Braddock, indicating the slip af paper in her 
 daughter's trembling fingers. 
 
 "Wliy, no; I don't know 'at I do," said Mr. Brad- 
 dock, coming forward. " 'Low ye mout tell me whut 't 
 is, an' I could tell ye, p'raps, more 'bout it. What 
 is it?" 
 
 "Esau, there, kin tell more p'intedly, an' I kin," 
 rejoined Martha Braddock. "Esau, boy, speak up. 
 Where 'd ye git it?" 
 
 ' ' Why, in 'tarnation ! don 't ye speak, when ye 're 
 spoken to, ye cub, ye ? " irritably exclaimed Uncle Peter ; 
 "don't ye hear 'em? Whut be the matter weth ye, ye 
 loonytick ? ' ' 
 
 This forceful and, maybe, somewhat unjust assault 
 upon tiie farmboy was called forth by two things, — 
 first, a naturally slow wdtted condition of the farmboy 's 
 mentality; and, secondly, by the farmboy 's present con- 
 fusion, in his own mind, of a species of intellectual 
 tonic a neighboring farmhand had but lately read him 
 concerning the fate of ' ' Gunpowder Dick, or the Slaugh- 
 tered Innocents," with the mystery in the recent "find" 
 in the barn, — result: Esau's laborious speculation upon 
 the likelihood of the present mysterious truth proving 
 stranger that past fiery fiction. Upon the Indianian's 
 remarks being threatened with the rienforcement of tlie 
 Indianian's coarse, rawhide boot as a spur, in the rear, 
 
INCREASING BEWILDERMENT. 295 
 
 to the farmboy's tardy working faculties, Esau dismissed 
 visionary and comparative mystery, and descended to 
 the practical world. He related for the information of 
 those there the circumstances of his coming into posses- 
 sion of the piece of torn envelope. 
 
 " 'Twa'n't there when I wuz there, fur I seen nothin' 
 on that blessed floor from eend to eend, I didn't," sub- 
 joined Mr. Braddock, flatly. "But, see here, yeVe 
 worked me up, e'en afore I've as much ez had a squint 
 at thet 'air paper," and Braddock stretched forth his 
 hand, and Mother Braddock placed the fragment of 
 paper in the old farmer's fingers. 
 
 "Whut's this?" said Uncle Peter, in wondering sur- 
 prise, and reading aloud, " 'You will better let Brad 
 Simons be to you an aid, than a snare. He knows the 
 ways of John and the man that will hang, and can know 
 more. But he sure of him.' Hoity toity!" said the old 
 man ; ' ' some — ? — no, you can 't write, ' ' this broken 
 observation was addressed to the farmboy, now finally 
 launched into a worthy and silent comparison of the 
 mystery contained in the unsigned paper with that of 
 "The Slaughtered Innocents." 
 
 Brad Simons came riding up at this moment, dis- 
 mounted, reached the rose covered porch of the house 
 and knocked briskly at the front door. 
 
 De went to the door in answer to the summons, won- 
 dering possibly at the nature of so early a call, and una- 
 ware, until confronted by Brad, of the identity of the 
 caller. 
 
 "Father," called De as she saw Simons, and with- 
 out waiting for the latter to speak, "bring that paper 
 here," a sudden sense of her own dominant influence 
 asserting itself, and causing her to take the lead now 
 and, in all subsequent relations affecting her brother's 
 case in the family, from that time forth. 
 
296 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Mr. Simons, do you know anything of this?" de- 
 manded the girl, fixing her clear, honest truth compelling 
 gaze upon the cattleman's full, round face and shifting 
 eyes. 
 
 The manifest surprise and amazed repudiation, in 
 Brad Simons' look, and his unuttered contempt, too 
 plain, however, to be mistaken, as to the slip of paper 
 and its contents, might have satisfied anyone of his lack 
 of guilt. Added to this, the scornful and genuine denun- 
 ciation, which Simons instantly unburdened himself of 
 against the author of this anonymous communication, 
 was sufficient to convince the most skeptical of Simons' 
 entire and perfect innocence of all and everything con- 
 nected with the authorship of the Avarning and advice 
 contained in the fragmentary note discovered by Esau. 
 
 "Then, who did it?" was De's emphatic inquiry. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A COMPACT. 
 
 As trifling as the anonymous scrawl had struck 
 Uncle Peter, and as contemptously as Brad Simons had 
 made out to, and actually did, esteem the unknown 
 writer of it, — OAving mainly, however, to the mistrust 
 of himself expressed in the closing sentence of the secret 
 missive that De had received by the unconscious hand 
 of Esau, — in spite of these circumstances, there was, 
 in the brief and unsigned note, food for reflection, in 
 their different ways, for both John Braddock's sister 
 and Bradford Simons. 
 
 To De it was manifest, in the first place, that another, 
 whosoever that other might be, entertained the same 
 opinion of the powers for good or ill that she herself had 
 been slowly forming respecting Brad Simons. This view 
 none too pleasantly strengthened her, in spite of herself, 
 in that opinion of this man who, to her mind, had become 
 so singularly identified with John's fate. 
 
 To Simons' astute mode of reasoning, the note, in the 
 parts not casting mistrust upon himself, gave him a 
 species of additional advantage over the young girl 
 whom he was trying, by every means in his power, to 
 get under his control. 
 
 The existence of evidence, contained in the words of 
 Uncle Peter uttered previously to his learning of the 
 anonymous paper and just before the recent arrival of 
 
 297 
 
298 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Brad upon the scene, that the outlaws had been seen hov- 
 ering about the Braddock farm, may be taken as import- 
 ant, in various ways. It cannot, however, in any way be 
 construed as implicating Simons in any unexplained 
 collusion with one or more of the sleepless units of the 
 lawless body, in this last effort at the influencing of the 
 mind of De Braddock. Brad was clear of all this. Nev- 
 ertheless, the unforeseen event of the unknown writer's 
 message was destined, in its own way, to effect the climax 
 which the tireless and unsparing cattle trader had so 
 long and patiently been conspiring to — De 's surrender. 
 
 The phantom fates were, truly, materializing into 
 a far too uncomfortable reality; and with Black Hank 
 and Rachel Bolers flitting furtively in their midst. 
 
 Notwithstanding, it does not seem to have suggested 
 itself to the thought of Peter Braddock, that the vicinity 
 of ' ' some fellers ' ' led by a " darn cuss, weth a big, black 
 beard," and some women "a-follerin' " might have been 
 significant; Uncle Peter, slow going and easy, permitted 
 the incident of the fragment of writing to become eradi- 
 cated from his thoughts, with an underestimated value 
 of its importance, in whatever fashion, affecting him or 
 his.. 
 
 Mother Braddock, if uneasy thoughts or reflections 
 she continued to carry in regard to Esau's discovery, 
 said nothing. 
 
 And Esau wove a romance out of the mysterious slip 
 of paper that would have out-gunpowdered "Gunpow- 
 der Dick" and all of that explosive young man's degen- 
 erate kind, — a work of lurid fancy ranking in the scale 
 of mysteries and events at an equal height with all the 
 thrilling and bloodcurdling romances which the ample 
 and sufficient capacity of respectable literature ever pro- 
 duced. 
 
A COMPACT. 299 
 
 "Here, ye loiterin' feller, git right out, ag'in, to that 
 there harness," exclaimed Uncle Peter to the brooding 
 Esau. 
 
 The farmboy came out of his gruesome trance with a 
 start. 
 
 "Ye '11 be the death o' me, ye will," muttered Peter, 
 whose temper was perpetually aggravated by a "loiter- 
 in' " disposition inherent in his young farm assistant 
 in the face of a sleepless, unwearying energy and vigor 
 possessed by the old man. 
 
 As the ambling figure of the fat farmboy passed 
 out of the kitchen door into the rear dooryard. Brad 
 Simons, who by this time, had wormed his own way into 
 the kitchen, appeared, with an effort, to rouse himself 
 from his own thoughts, and proceeded to follow the melo- 
 dramatically minded youth into the yard. 
 
 "I say," said Simons when, just as the farmboy was 
 preparing to enter the big barn. Brad overtook the lad, — 
 "I say, do you know anything more about this scrap-of- 
 paper business, than you have told?" and Simons fixed 
 a look of penetrating scrutiny upon the full, open coun- 
 tenance, suffused with food, healthy, country red, halted, 
 by its owner, within a few feet of his own. ' ' It may have 
 a very serious bearing — effect upon the interests of 
 your mistress. Miss De. " 
 
 Reference to De moved the fat boy, as the questioner 
 meant it should; but beyond Esau's powers, under the 
 trying circumstances, to express. He felt like blubber- 
 ing. However, he succeeded in checking this impulse to 
 unmanly emotion, with recollections of the "nerve" and 
 coolness displayed in grave emergencies by "Gunpowder 
 Dick." And at this turn Esau stooped ponderously, 
 carefully detached a wheat straw from its detaining place 
 between a board and a long thin splinter of the same, 
 and, rising once more to a position of erect contempla- 
 
300 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 tion, put the straw into his mouth, chewed twice upon 
 it and thoughtfully viewed the person of Brad Simons 
 from head to heel. 
 
 "Did you hear what I said?" rather sharply and 
 further questioned Brad. 
 
 "I heerd ye," answered the ruminating farmhand, 
 "an' ye needn't try Uncle Peter's scoldin' game with 
 me — won 't go, ' ' the fat boy removed the straw for but 
 the briefest second from his lips ; gazed upon it, and re- 
 turned it to the recesses of his jaws, from whence, there- 
 after, it continued to protrude as a silent testimonial to 
 the transient destiny of all straws, 
 
 "Well, at least, answer me, will you?" persisted 
 Brad Simons, in a more conciliatory manner. 
 
 "I hain't no more information on this here murd'rus 
 and meesteer'us plot," observed Esau, and in that sen- 
 tence dismissed from the vital issues of the hour all but 
 harness grease, and smartly betook his operations to the 
 instant application of that useful article to the harness ; 
 for he had perceived, afar, the lowering approach of 
 Uncle Peter descending upon him with "lightning, 
 storm and wrath" writ upon his brow. 
 
 Simons was painfully forced to content his mind with 
 a conviction of the boy's entire freedom from any 
 further or unwarrantable complicity in the anonymous 
 writing; and the unscrupulous and determined cattle- 
 man, bent on probing this new development and estab- 
 lishing, if possible, an additional bond between De and 
 himself, was turning reluctantly to retrace his steps to 
 the house, when an object attracted his attention and he 
 turned back to the barn. 
 
 "Wasn't that that fellow that cursed one armed 
 writer has employed over there at Walmsey's?" quer- 
 ied Simons to himself. 
 
 ' ' Now, what the devil ! — If , " continued I\Ir. Simons 
 
A COMPACT. 301 
 
 in imperfect and broken speech, "this sort of thing 
 keeps up much longer, — " what, "if this sort of thing 
 kept up," would have been the consequences (which, 
 judging by Brad Simons' past record, might have been 
 bad enough to suit any taste), the soliloquizer left un- 
 specified. 
 
 He went around the barn, to which general locality 
 he had espied the sudden withdrawal from view of the 
 figure of a man resembling, in the fleeting glimpse Brad 
 had been afforded, the person and original bearing of 
 the inimitable and self possessed Mr. Smoky Billings. 
 
 Sure enough, upon reaching the far side of the 
 stable, Simons, the perturbed, discovered Billings, the 
 composed, in presentable raiment of dark cloth, wholly 
 unconcerned and sitting on a log. 
 
 In an easy and natural manner, the ex-sailor rose, as 
 Simons "hove in sight," and, as if expecting a visit of 
 respect by appointment from the puzzled as well as dis- 
 turbed and angry cattle dealer, advanced with a bearing 
 of perfect cordiality and wished Mr. Simons a "very 
 good morning;" remarking, as an item of seemingly 
 indispensable cheer, that, 
 
 "He hoped Mr. Simons' hammock had swung clear 
 on the night previous," which remark, properly under- 
 stood, meant, on Smoky Billings' seafaring part, that 
 White's new assistant would be glad to know that Mr. 
 Simons' previous night's rest had been comfortable. 
 
 Brad Simons eyed the unmoved character evilly for 
 a moment. 
 
 "You don't" say so!" sneeringly retorted the raiser 
 of cattle. Simons' memory was actively employed in 
 recalling the singularly interesting part which Smoky 
 Billings had taken in the cattleman's discomfiture on 
 the evening of the social gathering at Widow Walm- 
 sey's. 
 
302 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Smoky Billings' rejoinder to this ungracious re- 
 ception of his agreeable advances was to spread his 
 lips upon his visible teeth; smile affably, and remain 
 silent. 
 
 "I'll give you a good night's rest, one of these 
 times, my fine fellow," burst forth the enraged cattle 
 trader, rightly construing Smoky's friendly speech to 
 
 relate to a night's repose, — "you and your d d 
 
 master!" Simons had an object in view with White's 
 man; and, certain of the difficulties in the way of its 
 attainment, w^as, nevertheless, unable to contain the 
 mass of discontent which preyed upon his working 
 vitals. 
 
 "You'd better give that housekeeper o' yourn a 
 rest," suavely replied the smiling gentleman in front 
 of the angry man. 
 
 Simons took a step forward, and raised his clenched 
 fist containing a riding whip ; but a peculiar glitter in 
 the eye of the onetime artist of the road detained the 
 upraised menace. 
 
 " 'No, on second thought,' " coolly quoted the un- 
 moved Smoky, containing his own large and dispro- 
 portioned hands within the knowing recesses of his own 
 pockets, " 'I don't think I would,' said the villain, 
 scowiin' darkly upon the roarin' stream at his feet, and 
 soliloquizing to hisself, 'it might be the death o' me.' " 
 and Brad's antagonist glanced composedly into the 
 face of his opponent and gave, with secret though unap- 
 parent relish, the lines of his stirring and highly 
 colored authority. 
 
 Simons lowered his fist and whip ; his face worked 
 for a moment, and then seemed to slowly regain its 
 calm ; he dropped his hand, with the whip in it. He 
 took one or two swallows and cleared his throat. 
 
 Smoky very considerately shifted his gaze from the 
 
A COMPACT. 303 
 
 face of the disconcerted and laboring man, and, fixing 
 a look of intelligent scrutiny and polite criticism upon 
 the weathervane representing a fish placed symmetri- 
 cally upon the gable end of the barn, he opined, "that, 
 that was it and that was the way of it." "And," 
 added the literary wanderer, "never go a-fishin' till 
 ye read that book by that feller, 'at I once heerd wrote 
 it," this reference to a writer on the angler's pursuits 
 doubtless embracing vague impressions of the observer 
 of the fish on the Braddock stable relating to a cele- 
 brated character in literature of the name of Walton. 
 
 "I came, sir, to ask you a question," finally said 
 Brad Simons, in a strained, metallic voice, 
 
 "Now, I rather expected when you seen me sail 
 behin' this here barn," said Simons' companion collo- 
 quially, "that I'd have the disting'ished pleasure of a 
 call in port from you, but the value you place on this 
 char-acter here," added Billings, "in any matter 'at I 
 can answer to is 'greater honor 'an he knew,' " much 
 humility and apparent self abasement attended this 
 further quoted utterance of Smoky. 
 
 It had been Brad Simons' policy to first win the 
 confidence of this man, much as he despised the sea- 
 faring character, and suddenly confront the latter mth 
 the anonymous note, hoping to find the clue to the 
 secret missive in the uncovering of some deep though, 
 to Brad, incomprehensible plot in which Billings might 
 have a hand. Brad Simons had lost his self possession, 
 a bad thing at all times to do, and the only thing left 
 him was to go bluntly to tlie point, or leave the matter 
 in which he was interested unnoticed. 
 
 He chose the first method; he went bluntly to the 
 point. 
 
 "There was found," said Simons, without further 
 preliminary, "a suspicious communication in the barn, 
 
304 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 this morning. Do you know anything about it?" with 
 this observation, Brad unceremoniously "poked" the 
 note, obtained from De for "tracing" purposes, beneath 
 the nose of Smoky Billings much after the unexpected 
 and unprepared manner previously observed by Esau 
 with De. 
 
 Smoky Billings' wide-open-eyed wonder convinced 
 Simons of total innocence, in this quarter, at least ; and 
 Brad paid little serious additional heed to Smoky's 
 polite disclaimers. De's pursuer was a good judge of 
 men, but, for other reasons, had he struck Smoky 
 Billings dead at his feet he had escaped the fatal hand 
 of the doomsman. 
 
 Experiencing no great sense of satisfaction in his 
 interview. Brad turned to depart with the few heartfelt 
 and parting words : 
 
 "I owe you no love, my friend, and I'll pay you 
 out one of these days ; but, I guess, this scrap of paper 
 doesn't lie at your door." 
 
 "Mr. Smoky Billings, which is w'at you gents in 
 this 'ere rejun has named this 'ere Avanderin' min- 
 strel," quoth Smoky, "is sensible of the con-fee-dence 
 and esteem conveyed in them last sentiments, and when 
 you find yerself a-hangin' around the nayborhood of 
 Billings Castle, County Billings," hospitably added he, 
 "yer mustn't furgit, 'at the latch string stretches as 
 much as a mile an' more, right your way," with which 
 particularly urgent and pressing invitation to partake 
 of the ancestral entertainment of the noble Billings' 
 aristocratic county seat. Smoky lit a short, rich, black 
 pipe and smoked luxuriously. 
 Simons Avithdrew. 
 
 Smoky Billings was not the mysterious agent of the 
 disturbing fragment of envelope; and Brad Simons, in 
 respect of his judgment of Smoky's innocence in this 
 
A COMPACT. 305 
 
 particular, much ds he now disliked one wlio had so 
 openly braved liim, was right. Simons' own person, 
 seen recently riding by Billings' place of employment 
 at Mrs. Walmsey's, was the occasion, this morning, of 
 Smoky's attendance at Uncle Peter Braddock's farm. 
 In other words, Billings, in popular terms, was "keep- 
 ing an eye on" Brad. 
 
 So the knowledge of the recent anonymous writing 
 first heard of, by Billings, through Brad, put Smoky to 
 thinking ; and it is doubtful whether any scrap of paper, 
 from the days of the first printing press to the present 
 time, ever set so many people by the ears, or occasioned 
 more genuine or lasting concern. 
 
 Simons, returning to the Braddock farmhouse, 
 found De, as we have seen her once before, standing at 
 the gate and looking wistfully down the road. 
 
 She was oppressed with a sense of care and respon- 
 sibility. 
 
 Simons reached the side of the girl in the familiar 
 gingham dress, her apron falling in snowy white drap- 
 ing from the graceful waist ; and tresses of the chestnut 
 hair streaming at random through the caressing touches 
 of the vagrant and amorous breeze. 
 
 A dead sycamore, close at hand, sheltered, or rather 
 with its bare stricken limbs afforded support for, the 
 solitary crow poising in seeming anticipation of signi- 
 ficant flight, at sight of Simons, to the protecting wood 
 at a secure distance beyond. 
 
 "You will let me find who did this?" said Brad 
 Simons, as he came to De's side. He held the piece of 
 envelope in his hand. 
 
 "Oh," replied the object of his address hopelessly, 
 ' ' what does it matter ? Let it be. ' ' 
 
 "No," positively rejoined Simons, who was making 
 of the affair a means of selfishly prolonging, to some 
 
306 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 definite advantage to himself , the present interview; "I 
 shall hunt out the writer of this; and now, De," pur- 
 sued the cattle raiser, "what have you to say to me? 
 I want to be your friend and John's. I want to be your 
 friend. I want you." 
 
 Not without a shade of anxiety, Brad waited for 
 the girl to speak. On the evening of the gathering at 
 Widow Walmsey's, William White, in Brad Simons' 
 knowledge and following the conference between Brad's 
 self and De Braddock, had enjoyed a private conversa- 
 tion of his own with Peter Braddock 's daughter. Si- 
 mons confessed to some uneasiness to know what that 
 meeting between White and De, in Widow Walmsey's 
 yard, had resulted in. 
 
 "I only know one thing," responded the cattleman's 
 victim, shuddering : ' ' my brother John must be cleared 
 of this mystery and unjust suspicion resting upon him — 
 must be freed from the dangers which threaten him." 
 
 "That," replied Brad with an air of sympathy, "is 
 precisely what / say. But," brazenly, now that the ice 
 was broken, went on the heartless schemer, "I love you. 
 Do not shrink. You will soon see, — well, you nor no 
 woman can be indifferent to such love as I bear," said 
 the man hotly. "Give me but to hope — " 
 
 "Mr. Simons," again said the woman in scarcely 
 audible tones, "John must be rescued from whatever 
 this may bring to him. If," continued the speaker, 
 with a face white and set and straining in a conscious- 
 ness of the crow flying in the distance and just near- 
 ing the edge of the wood, — "if you can make sure that 
 John will not unjustly suffer for the murder of Zeke 
 Smithin— " 
 
 "You Avill ?" exclaimed Simons advancing, im- 
 pulsively. 
 
 "I will ," said De. 
 
A COMPACT. 307 
 
 And the unhappy compact wanted nothing more to 
 complete its cruel meaning; or its heroic self sacrifice, 
 on the part of the devoted and faithful girl. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI, 
 
 WILLIAM WHITE FACES HIS ENEMIES. 
 
 After the apparent open and confessed association 
 of Brad Simons and Jason Jump, the political manager 
 of Grigscomb, had taken place in the encounter between 
 Likkum and Simons, based upon White's elementary- 
 connection with the congressional race in that district, 
 the ex-soldier and present political possibility saw no 
 cause to doubt an understanding between Brad Simons 
 and Jason Jump. The latter, in White's knowledge, had 
 come to that community mysteriously enough. Simons, 
 at first, had provided Jump with an introduction into the 
 circle of neighborhood affairs, but their intercourse, 
 — that of the newcomer and the local stock dealer, — 
 wsa, after that, of very rare and unapparent occurrence. 
 Jason Jump was known to be doing a small business in 
 cattle of his own, which afforded him ostensibly a legiti- 
 mate means of livelihood, in the view of those whose 
 interest or attention might induce them to question ap- 
 pearances in this respect, in the case of Simons' friend. 
 Wliite was possessed of a singular feeling, however, that 
 there was a bond of closer and more intimate concern 
 between the two men — were the truth known, a con- 
 cealed connection which might even disclose an addi- 
 tional depth of collusion affecting his own unceasing 
 desire to unearth the meaning of Rachel Bolers' inco- 
 herent and wandering utterances concerning Brad Si- 
 mons, De Braddock and himself, in the cave, on the 
 
 308 
 
WHITE FACES HIS ENEMIES. 309 
 
 night of his own abduction. As disordered as Rachel 
 Bolers' expressions had been, "William White could not 
 for the life of him, help regarding them as containing a 
 vital and important meaning. White had heard Blacl^ 
 Hank speak on but one occasion, — when De's lover had 
 been taken, blindfolded, to the caves. Such was the 
 marvelous skill, with which Jason Jump, in the char- 
 acter of the outlaw chieftain, effected a complete change 
 of tone, speech and manner, that the confused and dis- 
 comfited writer, in his limited opportunity, was endowed 
 with no conscious powers of identifying one with an- 
 other. Notwithstanding, there were fleeting times, after 
 a while, that followed his being taken to the caverns, 
 when something struck him as strangely familiar in 
 Jason Jump's voice, as if he had heard it before, and 
 under circumstances impossible to recall. This last con- 
 dition of things puzzled and annoyed him greatly, and 
 just why he could not tell. He found himself, more than 
 once, stopping in his walk, as an echo of the notes of 
 Jump's tones would seem to float past his ears. It was 
 no use; he would have to let it go — cease trying to re- 
 member where that voice had ever come to him in the 
 past. The trick of memory failed him ! 
 
 Another interest destined to absorb the life of Will- 
 iam White was beginning to surely creep upon him, to 
 suiprise him and to enslave him ; but in a different way, 
 perhaps, from the exclusive subjection to love and love's 
 affairs. The question of his taking seriously the washes 
 of his friends to allow his name to be placed before the 
 convention to nominate a candidate for congress had 
 been sprung and would not down or rest. One thing 
 alone would have been sufficient to cause him, in any 
 way, to lend himself to the desires of his more intimate 
 personal following, and that was the recently formed 
 conviction, on his own part, of a questionable and un- 
 
310 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 worthy coalition between Grigscomb's political manager 
 and Simons. This instinctively caused White, as Grigs- 
 comb's proposed congressional opponent, to hesitate 
 about refusing to take any course that might tend to 
 stem the current of a threatened flood of evil influences 
 under the joint promotion of Jason Jump and Brad 
 Simons. Rumor, too, now and then, and quite recently, 
 had connected Brad's name with some transactions 
 very much resembling those of the organized outlawry 
 of the neighborhood; and White, turning tliis last ite7ti 
 over in his mind, had reached the conclusion that it was 
 high time for the community, in some manner, to com- 
 bine for the defeat of this mysterious and baffling con- 
 dition of crime and terror existing in its midst. Realiz- 
 ing to the full the local interests apparently alone in- 
 volved, it yet appealed strongly to his native sense that 
 there was here a plain threat to connect seemingly the 
 worst elements of society with the national as well as 
 local system of government. Out of his own inherent 
 sense of natural right, and with his suspicions now 
 fully aroused, William White was as prompt and deter- 
 mined to take a stand on a platform with his friends, as 
 he had been to previously reject the idea of making a 
 congressional race merely for a questionable personal 
 advancement. 
 
 The dark motives that might be supposed to inspire 
 the way Brad Simons was going, if not, likewise, the 
 course being pursued by Jason Jump, could not fail, in 
 the judgment of the coming writer-politician, essentially 
 to color the actions of Grigscomb, the confessed repre- 
 sentative of both Simons and Jump and all they might 
 seem to stand for. 
 
 Late one afternoon, following the attempt upon De 
 and her rescue by Smoky Billings, Smoky and William 
 White stood side by side, in front of Jacobs' Store, in 
 
WHITE FACES HIS ENEMIES. 311 
 
 T ; as, in figure of language, they were destined, 
 
 thereafter, to stand side by side to the end of life. They 
 were watching two suspicious looking characters who 
 sat in a farm wagon, standing on the corner of the pub- 
 lic square, directly opposite to where William and his 
 constant attendant remained observing, without the ap- 
 pearance of doing so, the movements of the others. 
 
 "They're part of Simons' cattle driving outfit," re- 
 marked White. The speaker allowed his gaze, as if 
 aimlessly, to wander down the street, but in a direction 
 contrary to that in which were the objects of his watch- 
 fulness, thus successfully diverting the attention of the 
 latter from the meaning of his speech. 
 
 "They drive his cattle; but I've seen 'em stop an' 
 speak to that 'air Jump feller, too," rejoined Smoky in 
 a low tone. 
 
 "Don't let them see that we are talking about 
 them," said his companion. 
 
 "They're up to something," was the other's guarded 
 response. "They're a-waitin' fur someun'," and 
 Smoky Billings slowly and aparently without purpose 
 turned, his glance casually sweeping the circle of his 
 vision and, at the same time, catching sight of the dis- 
 tant form of Jason Jump who, nearing the office of 
 Benjamin Grigscomb, was seen to join the lawyer as 
 the last named came upon the scene from his place of 
 occupation. 
 
 An idea seemed suddenly to seize Smoln'-. 
 
 "I'm a-goin' over an' talk to them fellers in tli*" 
 wagon," said he. "Wisht yo'd stay an' watch them 
 other skunks," politely referring, in William White's 
 understanding, to the able and efficient personalities of 
 Jason Jump and Benjamin Grigscomb, who were grad- 
 ually drawing near to the spot where Smoky and his 
 chief tarried. 
 
312 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Be careful," was all White said. 
 
 A moment elapsed. The writer scratched a match 
 and lighted a pipe with the skilful use of his one hand. 
 Billings walked easily into the middle of the street, 
 across which was the wagon where sat the two country- 
 men; stooped, and appeared to pick from the ground 
 some object that had seemingly attracted his attention 
 and drawn him thither. As he rose from his bending 
 posture he flourished conspicuously in his hand a silver 
 dollar, with the remark, uttered in a loud, bantering 
 voice in the direction of those sitting in the vehicle near 
 him, 
 
 "You fellers around here must have money ter 
 throw away," — the operator's method of covering his 
 movements was certainly both original and successful. 
 He had dropped the coin at the moment of picking it 
 up ; had, by the action, introduced the occasion of speech 
 with the objects of his address in the wagon, and, at 
 this point, naturally passed on to the country convey- 
 ance and displayed the fruits of his supposed find to the 
 questioning looks of those seated in the wagon. As he 
 rose to an upright position with the dollar in his grasp, 
 Smoky, for an instant, was scanned by one of the two 
 men forming the purpose of his present maneuver, wiio 
 turned swiftly to his companion and hurriedly whis- 
 pered something. The other shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 "I tell you it is," said the first speaker, accompany- 
 ing his assertion with a rude oath. 
 
 When Smoky Billings reached the wagon, it was 
 plain, however he had succeeded in avoiding suspicion 
 before, that he was now eyed darkly and distrustfully 
 by, at least, one of the occupants of the vehicle before 
 him. The suspicious countryman gave the daring of 
 Billings no time for further play. 
 
 "What," he said sulkily, "ye want weth us?" 
 
WHITE FACES IIIS ENEMIES. 313 
 
 The pretended finder of the coin realized instantly 
 that there was no margin here for slow work. He 
 darted a quick look at the lowering face of the man in 
 the wagon. 
 
 White, of course, had witnessed the artifice employed 
 by Billings to effect an approach to Simons' drovers, 
 and been unable to refrain from a concealed smile of 
 admiration at the unexpected and cunning resource of 
 his follower; but his attention, at once, became taken 
 up by the approach of Jump and Grigscomb; and, for 
 the time being, Smoky was left to fight his own battles. 
 
 Smoky Billings' glance, shot at the other in the 
 wagon, locked with one as unsparingly sent into his own 
 eyes. 
 
 "What do I want weth ye, ye shrimp!" retorted 
 the seafarer; "well, ef I wanted ye to be civil, I'd git 
 left, reckon." 
 
 "What ye got in yer hand?" asked his adversary, 
 pointing to the one in which was held the object just 
 taken from the road, and favoring the immovable Bill- 
 ings with the dawn of an evil grin. 
 
 "That, ye lobster," pursued the sailor, "is what I 
 wnz a-thinking I might show yer mightiness. Whut's 
 ailin' ye, might a mere nobuddy ask, anyhow?" 
 
 This appearing to form an issue. Smoky Billings' 
 watchful antagonist drew from his pocket a plug of navy 
 chewing tobacco ; cut from it a liberal supply and placed 
 it carefully in his mouth, while he inspected Smoky 
 Billings' composed countenance with sinister intent- 
 ness ; restored the plug to his pocket, and chewed, for a 
 moment, thoughtfully and silently. 
 
 "We know you," finally said the chewer, with slow 
 and deadly deliberation, "and you had better get out 
 of this part of the country." 
 
314 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Smoky looked at the shadows in the west, fore- 
 runners of the closing day. 
 
 "Much obleeged fur your good will a-lettin' me 
 know," rejoined Billings affably; "but I likes this here 
 neck ' th ' wood f u 'st rate. Think I '11 stay. ' ' 
 
 William White still stood where Smoky had left 
 him. 
 
 "Mr. Grigscomb," White said, as John Braddock's 
 lawyer came by in company of his political manager and 
 nodded to William, "there is something concerning 
 Braddock's case I want to consult you about." 
 
 The lawyer paused. 
 
 Jump said to Grigscomb, 
 
 "I'll see you later," turned to the writer, with a 
 show of cordiality; bowed and smiled, and passed on. 
 
 "What is it, Mr. White?" inquired John's la^vyer. 
 
 The deep interest which William Wliite had felt in 
 the fate of John Braddock, it wall be recalled, had al- 
 ready caused the former to note the weakness- of the 
 latter 's case, on the occasion of the visit which White, to- 
 gether with De and her mother and father, had made 
 to John in confinement; and the concerned writer had 
 learned with distress of the failure, as yet, of the de- 
 fense to supply a witness to John's alibi. It had made 
 him doubly uneasy, since the visit to the jail, to observe 
 that Brad Simons and De were to be seen frequently to- 
 gether in apparently confidential communication. This 
 last fact, more than any other, filled De's lover with un- 
 easiness and apprehension. 
 
 "You know," began White, "that I feel a degree 
 of interest in this case, owing scarcely more to the con- 
 cern I cherish for John Braddock and his sister, than to 
 the fact that these disorders in the community have 
 reached to such an extent, if something is not done to 
 stop them, we will soon have no community to live in." 
 
WHITE FACES HIS ENEMIES. 315 
 
 Like all selfish men, Grigscomb had but one interest 
 in any way affecting the community or the world he 
 lived in, and that interest was his own. "You know, 
 Mr. White," he said indifferently, "that I'm a busy 
 man. If you have anything to say to me relating to the 
 case you speak of, which can affect the interest of my 
 client, I shall be glad to hear it. I do not know that it 
 is necessary to waste much time on the community. It 
 is apt to take care of itself, and leave you to take care 
 of yours." This was Grigscomb without the mask, in- 
 spired by the secret contempt felt for White, at best. To 
 another he would not have dreamed of so speaking. 
 William White, as much as he had thought himself con- 
 versant with the absolute insincerity of the professional 
 social and political expression and sentiment of his times, 
 was amazed at the man. It afforded the coming political 
 aspirant, as well as the aroused and awakened writer, 
 the opportunity of unavoidable duty. He took it. 
 
 "Mr. Grigscomb," said he, "I am puzzled how to 
 deal with such an astounding utterance, on your part. 
 You surely cannot mean what you have just said, oc- 
 cupying the place of vital and representative importance 
 you do, in this locality?" 
 
 ' ' I am a busy man. ' ' 
 
 Forgetting, for the moment, the question of a wit- 
 ness to an alibi for John Braddock, William White broke 
 out in plain honesty, 
 
 "Mr. Grigscomb, if I am given the nomination, in 
 this district, for congress, I shall take great pleasure in 
 accepting it, if only to make it possible to send someone 
 besides yourself to Washington, in order (and I say 
 it in personal good will to you), that our representa- 
 tives may aid in rescuing the people from such indiffer- 
 ence as you see fit to display to their welfare." 
 
 Grigscomb, taken by surprise, stood looking dumbly 
 
316 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 at the man who had just spoken. It would be difficult 
 to fully account for the instantaneous and numbing 
 effect of the brief speech the literary man had made. 
 Somehow, it had told as in a public address. 
 
 The two were interrupted here by Smoky Billings, 
 who approached without ceremony and, as Grigscomb 
 shifted his gaze, by a brief nod gave White to under- 
 stand there was something going on that required atten- 
 tion. 
 
 "Mr. White," observed White's flurried political ad- 
 versary, studiedly recovering his poise and attempting 
 to speak with intense sarcasm, "your frankness is 
 equaled by your preeminently successful previous politi- 
 cal and professional reputation and the respect and con- 
 fidence in which you have been held in the community 
 you so devotedly defend." 
 
 To this additional fling at his well known humanita- 
 rianism and charity, 
 
 "If truth is held in contempt, and unselfish solici- 
 tude for others ridiculed," returned Grigscomb 's com- 
 posed antagonist, " it is not for those, who are naturally 
 strong enough to take up suffering humanity's load, to 
 flinch ; nor for those, whose natures seem made to scoff 
 and jeer at beauty and perfection, to succeed in restrain- 
 ing the disinterested and self denying in their efforts 
 for something as worthy as deliberate, cold blooded sel- 
 fishness and unfair advantage," Mr. White's present ap- 
 pearance and, doubtless, best, as an expounder of politi- 
 cal economy, was going well. 
 
 "I see," ironically sneered the lawyer, "that we'll 
 have much pleasure in our game of political hide and 
 seek." 
 
 "You will," replied White quietly, "not I." He 
 beckoned to Billings and the two walked away, with a 
 smile and a word, from Smoky's companion, to disarm 
 
WHITE FACES HIS ENEMIES. 317 
 
 any unnecessary personal animosity, on the part of Ben- 
 jamin Grigscomb, 
 
 "What is it, Smoky?" questioned the writer, when 
 they had gotten out of earshot of Grigscomb. 
 
 "They're a-goin' out to the hills yonder," replied 
 Smoky. 
 
 "They— who?" said White. 
 
 "That feller. Jump, an' them thare critturs in that 
 wagon," answered the other. 
 
 "How do you know?" asked Billings' companion. 
 
 "I seen him — Jason Jump," elaborated Smoky in 
 response to an inquiring look from White, "a-ridin' 
 out o' town ahead, an', a'ter a bit, them wagon fellers 
 follered, a-drivin'." 
 
 "You think they followed Jason Jump?" 
 
 "Pooty sure." 
 
 "They may be going out for cattle," said White. 
 
 "Then it's somebuddy else's," replied Smoky. 
 "Mr. White, ef they's nothin' fur me to do on deck, 
 weth ye, fur awhile, I'll jest go below, fur a bit." 
 
 For a moment, White looked searchingly into Smoky 
 Billings' ordinarily impenetrable countenance. What 
 he saw there confirmed him in his first impression. 
 Familiar as he had grown with the figurative speech of 
 the characteristic mariner, he readily divined Smoky's 
 object was to follow and spy upon those whose move- 
 ments had just been under discussion. 
 
 "Smoky, they'd kill you, if they caught you spying 
 on them, like they would a rat in a trap, should they, 
 as we suspect, be moving spirits in the mischief going 
 on in this neighborhood," said Smoky's friend. 
 
 "If they ketch me," said Smoky. 
 
 By this time it was growing dark. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE OLD MILL. 
 
 Billings was wrong in one of his deductions. During 
 the course of his marked and striking career in evil, 
 Jason Jump, in any detail, was not accustomed to act, 
 in his o^vn undisguised personality, -vs^th the subordi- 
 nates of the band of outlaws. It is kno^\-n that even 
 Benjamin Grigscomb, in the lifetime of the noted out- 
 law, never had other knowledge than that of the quiet 
 and apparently law abiding citizen Jason Jump. Hence, 
 it follows that the going out of town, at one and the 
 same time, of Jump and the two men in the wagon, as 
 observed by Smoky Billings, could not have been the re- 
 sult of open conspiracy, at the moment, as between out- 
 laws. Their movements, in view of subsequent develop- 
 ments, doubtless, had been previously arranged in the 
 regular, secret conclaves of the marauders, under the 
 disguises and mutual concealments employed to deceive 
 one another. 
 
 Finding Smoky Billings resolved, White announced 
 his determination of accompanying him. Night had 
 now set in, and, with misgivings which he strove in vain 
 to quiet, William White passed out of the town with his 
 follower, little reconciled in his own doubts and fears by 
 the remote hope, on so seemingly wild and reckless 
 an adventure, of securing something which might re- 
 late to his own connection with the outlaws and De 
 Braddock. They were unarmed, a circumstance that, 
 while it increased their danger, was, at the instant, im- 
 
 318 
 
THE OLD MILL. 319 
 
 possible to remedy. Billings, as usual, was wholly com- 
 posed and quite at his ease. White's uneasiness was not 
 an evidence of cowardice, for there were few braver 
 men than he in that community; but rather proceeded 
 from the intangible something which mixes discretion 
 with the better part of courage. Both he and Smoky 
 had a general familiarity with the resorts of the free- 
 booters; and, once committed to the projects of his 
 hardy and adventurous companion, White foresaw no 
 limit to the disposition of the former to penetrate as far 
 as possible into the region of the outlaws' refuge. They 
 were both mounted and rode slowly and with great 
 care; this, White insisting upon after a considerable ex- 
 tent of comparatively safe country had been traversed 
 at a fair rate of speed. 
 
 In the darkness, they came suddenly upon the wagon 
 which had but a short time before proved a part of the 
 lure that had drawn them from town. It was easily 
 found to be empty; the two men who had occupied it 
 being nowhere to be seen. No moon aided them, and 
 the light from the stars was not great. Objects were 
 but faintly visible, with that vague shadowy indistinct- 
 ness so illusive and deceptive. 
 
 "Billings," whispered White, "if they have not al- 
 ready discovered us and are waiting in ambush, we had, 
 if we want to escape their observation, better get down, 
 tie our horses there among the trees and look around 
 on foot." 
 
 "All right, cap'n," returned Billings in similar 
 whispered tones. 
 
 Moving wdth caution, they entered the wood nearby; 
 and, after satisfying themselves that all was safe, ap- 
 proached the edge of the forest, leaving their horses se- 
 curely fastened to a clump of hickory saplings. 
 
 "Sh!" warned Smoky, whose quick hearing had 
 
320 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 caught the sound of movement in the road. Someun' 
 out there. ' ' 
 
 Safely concealed from view, by their position among 
 the trees, the two watchers peered forth in an eifort to 
 determine the source of noises which had arrested 
 Smoky's attention. Dim figures were seen moving to- 
 ward them, not far distant in the road. They appeared 
 but as so many blurs against the surrounding objects of 
 the night. They moved steadily forward, dark shadows 
 Hitting in the gloom past dim fence lines, rocks but dark 
 blotches on the somber skies, and, as they proceeded, 
 blotting the lighter hue of soil in the roadway wdth irre- 
 gular, dancing forms. 
 
 As they came opposite to where the two stood silent 
 and motionless among the trees, one of the figures spoke. 
 
 "I tell ye I heerd the sound uv bosses," declared a 
 man's strong, gruff voice positively. 
 
 It was too dark and the speaker himself too far away 
 for White to be sure, but the latter fancied he could 
 recognize the deep rough tones of the freebooter whom 
 the writer had heard called Black Hank in the cave, and 
 thought the outlines of the man in the road presented a 
 resemblance to the bearded chief of the outlaws. He 
 whispered his conclusions to Smoky Billings. 
 
 ''Like ez not, cap'n," Smoky returned in carefully 
 guarded speech, — "like ez not; but be keerful, they're 
 a-ccmin ' this way. ' ' 
 
 "Aw, kum on," expostulated a less exercised compan- 
 ion of the outlaw leader; them's only some bosses ye 
 heerd over in Samples 's fiel's. Whut ye be about ter 
 do?" 
 
 The robber chieftain hesitated. 
 
 "I don't know," said he. 
 
 "I know ye don't," retorted the other; "so come 
 along — do somep'n', — fish er cut bait." 
 
THE OLD MILL. 321 
 
 The first outlaw wavered for a moment between his 
 prompting to enter the wood, — where the horses might, 
 then unknown to him, have been easily discovered, — 
 and his disinclination to oppose his associate. White 
 and Billings waited in suspense. Finally, the repeated 
 urgings of his companion seemed to prevail, and Smoky 
 and William had the satisfaction of seeing the two men, 
 followed by a third, go on past their hiding place. The 
 hidden men watched their unsuspecting quarry go like 
 dark and disembodied specters along the unfenced 
 fringes of the wood, which afforded the former conceal- 
 ment ; past the shadowy fence lines, on the other side of 
 the way, and, so, fading into the surrounding gloom, on 
 to the unholy objects of their ghostly prowlings. It was 
 White who first obeyed an impulse to follow the mis- 
 creants and learn, if possible, something of their im- 
 mediate purposes. The two, as if acting by an unex- 
 pressed and common understanding, began slowly to 
 work their way along the inner edge of the forest in the 
 direction taken by the advancing outlaws. Their pro- 
 gress, at first tardy, grew, as they became more familiar 
 with their ground, appreciably more rapid, so that pres- 
 ently they were, once more, nearly opposite the men in 
 the road; who appeared to proceed slowly, but as if 
 with a grim and sure undertaking in view. Just beyond 
 were faintly traceable the dim outlines of an old mill 
 which sat, a solitary and lonely object, perched, among 
 the crags and rocks and trees, upon the perilous edge 
 of a deep and narrow gorge through which ran, when 
 its banks were full, the stream that, once, boiling and 
 tumbling at the base of a high barren ledge of stone 
 whence it had fallen, turned the now rotting millwheel 
 by means of power directed through a race above the 
 falls. The stream's channel was now dry. The mill, at 
 one time, had been an effective addition to the uses of 
 
322 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the neighboring country, but finally stood a ruin, un- 
 used and dismantled, presenting only a touch of pic- 
 turesqueness to the landscape. It was evident the out- 
 laws had this decayed and lonely resort as the object of 
 their destination. As they came to the dry channel of 
 the stream which, descending to the lower road, had 
 formed part of the widening course of the supply of 
 power for the abandoned mill, the freebooters, from the 
 side of the highway opposite their silent and relentless 
 trailers, turned quickly to the left in among the rocks 
 forming the ground surface and banks through which 
 the dry creek ran. They here appeared to pause; for, 
 though they were not visible, White and Billings could 
 no longer hear their footsteps, and the subdued hum of 
 stationary voices came to the ears of the two across the 
 way. Before his companion was aware of Billings' in- 
 tention, the latter had slipped out of hiding into the 
 road and was half way to the rear of a great boulder 
 behind which might be heard the muffled tones of the 
 outcasts of the night. The daring scout was seen by 
 William White to sink suddenly to the earth and, as an 
 Indian would, wind silently to the rear of the rock con- 
 cealing the others from view. He almost instantly 
 turned and made his way rapidly and noiselessly back 
 to the side of his own chief. Here, for the briefest 
 moment, he stood silent. He then spoke in a low whis- 
 per. 
 
 "Mr. White," he said, "them fellers may be the ones 
 I seen in th' wagon, in town, but that there ain't Jump 
 what's a-leadin' of 'em. They's met by appointment, 
 though, out here. They're a-going to separate, an' the 
 feller w'at seems to be d'rectin' of 'em 's goin' fur 
 somep'n' ter the ol' mill. Stan' by an' be keerful, an', 
 I sez, f oiler th' leader to the mill. Look out! here they 
 kum." 
 
THE OLD MILL. 323 
 
 Those in hiding in the wood perceived two forms 
 emerge from behind the huge boulder and walk swiftly- 
 down the road in the direction contrary to that in which 
 stood the writer and his companion. Almost at the 
 same time, White and Billings saw the person of him 
 who remained toil, from behind the single greater stone 
 that had before hidden him from their view, up over 
 other rough and uneven formations, and so make his 
 way to the tumbledown building standing rmong the 
 rocks some hundred yards off. 
 
 Pursuit of the man climbing over the obstructions in 
 his path presented, to White's mind, a problem of suffi- 
 cient difficulty to afford warrant for his laying a re- 
 straining and prudent hand on his energetic compan- 
 ion's arm, when Billings, prompted by the depth of his 
 interest, at once started to cross the road and stalk their 
 prey. 
 
 "We can afford to take no chances," observed 
 Smoky's cautious and prudent friend. "Wait; there is 
 a plain and easy way, on this side of the road, through 
 the wood and across the creek. The stream is dry, — all 
 the better. We wall cross the creek, cross the road and 
 approach the mill, by way of the lane, which, you know, 
 runs up to the mill from the road, lower down." Here, 
 too, as White knew, would be increased protection in the 
 thick growth of trees lining the sides of the lane. The 
 ex-soldier's military tactics was good. The way sug- 
 gested, much opposed as it w^as to Smoky's wishes, 
 owing, however, mainly to loss of time, — for Smoky 
 Billings' very nature w^as of the kind that gloried in 
 the bold rush of advance and the charge, as if he had in 
 his nostrils the scent of the battling ocean, — the course 
 suggested, by White, for gaining the outlaw chieftain's 
 citadel, though different from that which Billings 
 should have liked, displayed strong strategy. In the 
 
324 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 event of the two outlaws' unexpected return the exposed 
 line of advance over the rocks, by which the leader of 
 the desperadoes had gone, would, in their present un- 
 armed position, be equivalent to suicide. The longest 
 way around was the shortest way home. Trusting to 
 an arrangement by which the outlaws had determined 
 to rendezvous at the mill, and thus give an opportunity 
 of surprising them secretly in operations solving the 
 meaning of their present acts, White's counsels pre- 
 vailed and he and Smoky proceeded cautiously to carry 
 them out. Keeping within the concealment of the wood 
 on their owti side of the country highway, they effected 
 a crossing of the dried stream bed in the forest; when 
 finding all safe they crossed the road to the side on 
 which stood the mill. Down a lane branching from the 
 highroad they glided like spirits, silent, determined. As 
 they neared the mill, whose weather-beaten, time-scarred 
 face gloomed to their left in the woody lane, a light, in 
 the old building, was seen to stream fitfully through the 
 chinks and cracks of the place and, mo\'ing by one of 
 its dark, gaping windows, appear to pass on to the rear 
 of the dilapidated structure. Presently'' the flitting 
 illumination was noticed, after a period of disappear- 
 ance, to reappear at the back of the ruined building, 
 where the boarding fallen off had left an opening 
 through which not only the red flash of the flame might 
 be seen, but the form of its carrier, as well. Here the 
 light, and he who bore it, stopped. White, on other oc- 
 casions, had visited the picturesque and interesting lo- 
 cality; and, familiar with the premises, at once pro- 
 ceeded, Billings bringing up the rear, to make his way 
 with the utmost care to the back of the mill which, at 
 this point, abutted directly on the dry rocky bed occu- 
 pied, when full, by the mill stream. It was dark and 
 forbidding among the lowering rocks and trees sur- 
 
THE OLD MILL. 325 
 
 rounding the outlaws' haunts, and the presence of pro- 
 fuse, tangled and matted underbrush, rank and decay- 
 ing soil, and broken small rock made it a matter of the 
 extremest difficulty for the watchers of the outlaw to 
 effect their movements with secrecy. Once Smoky 
 stumbled, which brought him to his knees, his hand 
 striking sharply upon a stone. This drew an involun- 
 tary though subdued exclamation of pain from the man. 
 While a sound from the voice of the injured one could 
 hardly have been heard in the mill, the flurry among the 
 stones evidently was, for, through the opening left by the 
 absence of boarding on the side of the building, the free- 
 booter was seen to look suddenly around in some occu- 
 pation engrossing his attention near the millstone, by 
 side of which he stood, with several sheets of paper 
 tightly clutched in his right hand. He gazed long and 
 earnestly in the direction from whence had come the 
 sounds that had arrested his attention. He was evi- 
 dently alone. 
 
 "Hen," he called softly. 
 
 There was no response, and, doubtless, attributing 
 the interruption to some passing wild animal of the 
 nighttime, the outlaw appeared, once more, to devote 
 himself to the claims of his employment. 
 
 The long impunity, in this section of the country, 
 with which the malefactors had prosecuted their ne- 
 farious dealings had made them strangely and singu- 
 larly indifferent to the ordinary comings and goings of 
 the natives of the locality; and even Jump's seemingly 
 curious methods of stern disguise amongst his immediate 
 followers in crime, as well as in the necessities of his 
 other lawless operations, bore as much relation and re- 
 spect to a curious and secret desire to obscure and lose, 
 as far as possible, consciousness of his former person- 
 ality, as to any aim at escaping detection in his crim- 
 
326 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 inal offenses. The hidden watchers could distinguish 
 the man's features and even understand a species of 
 muttered soliloquy with which he appeared to accom- 
 pany his proceedings. The black slouch hat and huge 
 black beard conclusively identified him as the robber 
 chieftain familiar, in appearance, to both Smoky and 
 William. He held, in his hand, what now appeared to 
 White to be a written paper which, while he read, he 
 seemed to eagerly comment upon. 
 
 White and Billings both started, at the man's low 
 intense words — 
 
 "And shall I add the Smithin case?" 
 
 Steps were heard. The other outlaws were return- 
 ing. The call of the whippoorwill was repeated thrice. 
 The holder of the paper was no longer mistaken as to 
 the vicinity of other than himself. William White and 
 Smoky Billings drew back from the more exposed posi- 
 tion they had occupied in the chance view of any ap- 
 Droaehing the spot, and, in doing so, were compelled to 
 momentarily lose sight of the leader of the outlaws. 
 
 Several men, where two had but recently parted 
 from Black Hand at the rock, were dimly seen approach- 
 ing in the lane. The newcomers entered the ruined 
 building, and their footsteps sounding in the echoing 
 place to those without, they were seen, by White and 
 Smoky, who had resumed their former point of watch- 
 fulness, to emerge into view by the side of the myster- 
 ious reader of the paper. The latter article must have 
 been hastily secreted, for the outlaw, when next ob- 
 served by the watchers, gave no evidence of its posses- 
 sion. 
 
 The leader of the outlaws stood facing the others. He 
 presented a striking figure. He was short, compactly 
 built, powerful and muscular. Accentuating his broad, 
 black slouch hat and his great black beard, were a 
 
f HE OLD MILL. 327 
 
 coarse, dark blue flaiinel shirt and corduroys thrust into 
 heavy riding boots. A large, ugly Colt's revolver was 
 belted to his hip. His companions were dressed in var- 
 ious styles of roufh country garb, proclaiming un- 
 couthness and nativ^ ruffianism. 
 
 "See here," said the leader, when he had been joined 
 by the new arrivals (who, in their disguised appear- 
 ances, supplied to Smoky Billings and William White no 
 means of identifying any two with the former occu- 
 pants of the farm wagon), "I reckon ye 're ter un'er- 
 stan' this here ^ame, here an' now, fer th' las' time," 
 the speaker had singled out one of those who had re- 
 cently arrived, and addressed him with a threatening 
 emphasis. The remaining ruffians stood aside and left 
 their companions alone. "Fu'st, I tell ye, so's all may 
 know, 'at we don't make no war on wimen. Ye've, all 
 uv ye, heerd thet, afore, an' un'erstan's it ag'in. " Even 
 this redeeming trait in the strange character of Jason 
 Jump, the Black Hank of his day, was finally lost, and, 
 before the end and the tragic fate which at last overtook 
 the famed outlaw, was engulfed in the abyss of misery, 
 wretchedness and evil which swept over his agonized 
 and tortured soul. "That, though," continued the 
 talker, his manner assuming the appearance of a kind 
 of rude and solemn tribune, "ain't the reel occasion uv 
 yer bein' brung ter jestice. " 
 
 "Ye've ketched me in a trap," exclaimed the man, 
 on whom had been bestowed the robber's remarks, and 
 manifesting his first fear in the consciousness of be- 
 trayal. He darted a quick, alarmed glance around. The 
 dark and forbidding countenances that met his startled 
 gaze confirmed his affrighted suspicion. His air be- 
 came dogged, then propitiatory; after that, cool, de- 
 fiant. 
 
328 TPIE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "I didn't do nothin' to De Braddock — on'y tried ter 
 kiss 'er," growled the fellow, taking a chew of tobacco. 
 
 "Yer a-waylayin' De Braddock, t'other day," went 
 on the offender's ominous judge, "hain't the whole 
 p'int, ez ye pufectly well knows. "Ye 're a traitor, an' 
 ye tried to betray us, an' 'ware Thrash Thatcher an' his 
 doom — you, &n' that tramp, too, ef we ketch 'im!" 
 
 Smoky Billings, in the night without, was duly sen- 
 sible of this thoughtful and expressive inclusion of him- 
 self in the outlaw's humane intentions. 
 
 Whether the culprit before this darkling tribunal 
 had before this been aware of the full extremity of his 
 threatened danger or not, he here showed no departure 
 from his previous composure. His coolness rather in- 
 creased. He looked around at the stern, silent figures 
 by which he was surrounded. 
 
 "I b'lieve," he drawled without show of excitement, 
 " 'at ye killed Thrash Thatcher." 
 
 "Bind him," said the leader, turning to the others 
 standing off apace. 
 
 The man who had incurred the penalty of death was 
 near the lantern placed upon the floor. With a sudden, 
 swift movement of the foot, he sent the light flying and 
 the place was in darkness. Oaths, the sound of scurry- 
 ing feet and angry and excited exclamations, in the old 
 building, followed this bold and daring act, on the part 
 of the endangered freebooter. White and Smoky, whose 
 first impulse was of relief at the promised escape of the 
 outlaw, crouched breathlessly where they were. With 
 startling and sudden abruptness, a form, seen but 
 vaguely in the outside obscurity, shot from a rear win- 
 dow of the mill and dropped silently like a plummet 
 fully twenty feet to a sandy bar in the dry bed of the 
 creek; and, apparently uninjured by its courageous and 
 successful leap, sped like the wind along the channel's 
 
THE OLD MILL. 329 
 
 bottom in the direction of the main road, which the 
 stream's bed traversed at no great distance from the 
 point where the flying figure had first reached the ' 
 ground. Flaming matches danced in the ruined old mill 
 structure where, before, darkness, the result of the ex- 
 tinguished lantern's light, had reigned. 
 
 "They'll beat the woods," said White', "we must get 
 away. ' ' 
 
 The suggestion was timely, for the men without 
 heard Black Hank, with an outburst of profanity, ex- 
 claim, 
 
 "Boys, git outside. He's giv' us th' slip in th' dark." 
 
 The watchers could hear the dash of many feet 
 speeding for the front of the building, while a last flash- 
 ing taper showed the robber chieftain making a final 
 hurried inspection of the premises before leaving. White 
 and Billings had no more than time to hastily withdraw 
 from view, when the outlaws burst into sight in the 
 lane. They were almost immediately joined by Black 
 Hank. At this point, however, they paused. The com- 
 motion and confusion caused by the action of their vic- 
 tim in kicking over the lantern had prevented any indi- 
 cation attracting attention to the possible exit by way ol 
 the window, and it now, for the first time, occurred to 
 the chief of the miscreants that an escape might have 
 been effected in that direction. Quickly ordering one of 
 his men into the dry creek, the leader and the remaining 
 ruffians began a rapid though systematic search of the 
 immediate vicinity. The situation of White and Billings 
 had now become critical. If found, they well knew what 
 would be their instantaneous fate. There would be no 
 trial. Sudden and swift death would be their portion. 
 The searcher sent to the creek must pass close to their 
 hiding place. He stumbled over the broken rocks near 
 them. It looked as if they were safe. His foot caught; 
 
330 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 he swerved to avoid the obstruction, and in doing so was 
 face to face with Smoky Billings, who foreseeing the 
 course the mishap would cause the man to take had in- 
 stinctively sprung forward to silence their discoverer. 
 Billings' powerful seaman's hold had the surprised des- 
 perado by the throat, ere the latter could make outcry, 
 while before his captive's astonished wits could recover 
 themselves the sailor had dealt the ruffian a blow just 
 under the ear with his free hand clenched like a huge 
 ball of iron, and, without a sound, the stricken man 
 crumpled up like a leaf and sank as the victor, still 
 grasping his throat, eased him noiselessly to the ground, 
 in a crushed heap at his silencer's feet. 
 
 "Now, for it, Mr. White," said Smoky, seizing his 
 companion by the arm and reaching the bank of the dry 
 stream bed, but a few feet away, almost at the same in- 
 stant. Into this they descended, finding the high em- 
 bankment steep, rough and difficult. 
 
 At the bottom they crouched, for a moment, and 
 White muttered in Smoky's ear, 
 
 "If we could only secure that paper, Billings, — 
 what he said about 'the Smithin case:' that paper had 
 something to do with Zeke's murder." 
 
 "Er ef we could on'y git the feller, himself. Can't 
 be helped, sir," rejoined Smoky Billings regretfully; 
 "nothin' more kin be did, now." 
 
 Their danger was still imminent. At any moment 
 those scouring the lane and its neighborhood might find 
 reason, in the continued silence of their scout companion 
 or the supposed necessity of uniting in a common quest, 
 for following the outlaw whose form lay still and quiet 
 on the rocks above. To add to their increasing danger 
 moonrise was at hand. They stole silently down the ex- 
 hausted path of the stream, keeping in the deeper ob- 
 scurity of the rugged banks, and had nearly reached 
 
THE OLD MILL. 331 
 
 the highway, when there sounded the sharp report of 
 firearms. White was in advance, in the step it took to 
 reach the road, and seeing no signs of human presence 
 dashed swiftly across the way, with Smoky following, to 
 gain the protection of the wood where, further up, they 
 had left their horses. 
 
 "There he is," shouted a voice, as its owner caught 
 a fleeting glimpse of Smoky's figure just disappearing 
 among the trees, where White had succeeded in getting 
 unseen. The outlaw quickly and threateningly re- 
 inforced his words, and his first shot at some object evi- 
 dently taken in the shadows for the escaping robber, 
 with a harmless winger at Billings. 
 
 Smoky Billings stooped, and grasping a large stone 
 ran swiftly under cover of the wood up the creek's bank. 
 With great force, he hurled the object in his hand far 
 above in the stream's empty bed, where it fell clattering 
 and echoing among its kindred rocks. He rapidly cir- 
 cled back and joined William White just as the latter, 
 with a throb of alarm, had discovered his follower's ab- 
 sence. 
 
 "Listen," said Smoky gleefully and stealthily. 
 
 The ruse had been successful, and the outlaws were 
 heard to turn into the creek and rush up its course in 
 the direction of the sound which had followed Smoky's 
 artful device. 
 
 In a comparatively unfamiliar locality, in the dark- 
 ness and without arms, what could be done to secure, 
 circumvent or thwart the miscreants? In an attempt to 
 supply a satisfactory solution to this question, involving 
 as it did the unexplained paper in relation to the death 
 of Zeke Smithin, White lingered as long as possible. 
 Reluctantly, at last he committed the interest to the 
 future, and, obeying on Smoky's part a careful sugges- 
 tion, the horses were reached. 
 
332 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 After all, breathing more freely the two men were 
 soon in the road, galloping away from the dangerous 
 vicinity of their late adventures. As they made a wide 
 detour and entered the town they had a few hours before 
 left, the moon was flooding the earth with a wondrous 
 glory and midnight marked the hour. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 MONA WALKER, THE PRETTY HOUSEKEEPER, BRINGS BRAD 
 SIMONS TO AN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Brad Simons was at breakfast. The sun was bright, 
 in the heavens without, and nature and the world alike 
 smiled and were beautiful. Simons gazed through the 
 morning glory vines trained by !Mona Walker over the 
 window affording the prosperous cattle raiser and farm- 
 er a view of his fat and fertile lands beyond. He toyed 
 with his coffee cup. The pretty housekeeper came and 
 went, and wrinkled up her brows in an expression of 
 thought. Unknown to the silent cattleman, she was 
 thinking, upon somewhat different lines, of the same 
 concerns at that moment affecting Simons' understand- 
 ing. Mona Walker had for some time observed that 
 Brad Simons was drifting dangerously near a threaten- 
 ing and fatal maelstrom of sentiment, which the pretty 
 housekeeper needed no extra strength of a pretty house- 
 keeper's powers of divination to perceive was Simons' 
 relations to De Braddock. Mona was not pleased. She 
 had long been led to suppose that Brad intended mak- 
 ing herself his blameless and efficient wife, 
 
 Simons mused aloud. 
 
 "I've plenty. I could settle something on Mona, — 
 she'll give me trouble on that marriage promise, if I 
 don't. Wonder what that scoundrel Jump did with it, 
 anyway ? But, I 've plenty — plenty. I 'm rich. If I 
 could get the wife I want, I could easily afford to spend 
 the balance of my life enjoying myself. We could 
 
 333 
 
334 THE CAVEKNS OF DAWN. 
 
 travel, too — go abroad. De Braddock is a woman of 
 intellect — " and the dreaming man was once more 
 silent. 
 
 Mona Walker, standing in an adjoining room, the 
 door of which opening into the eating room stood ajar, 
 lingered with an intent and listening expression on her 
 pleasing face as Simons was heard to fall into his musing 
 soliloquy. The housekeeper, with discreet art, said noth- 
 ing, as she gathered the full meaning of the stock 
 raiser's words. Like a very wise, as well as a very good 
 looking young woman, she went about the further sup- 
 plies for her sentimental employer's morning meal. 
 
 "]\Ir. Simons," said a voice — a musical and perfectly 
 respectful voice — at length breaking in upon Brad's 
 happy reverie. 
 
 Simons turned in his seat. 
 
 In an attitude of quiet self possession, ]\Iona Walker 
 stood facing him. 
 
 "Did you speak?" asked Simons as, gazing a trifle 
 blankly at the young woman, he came out of his dreams 
 in much the same way as any other dreamer comes out 
 of his. The magic of Mona's wonderful oriole of burn- 
 ished, glowing hair still worked its witchery in Simons' 
 blood. 
 
 "Yes, I spoke," simply replied the woman, with a 
 touch of dignity, ' ' and I would thank you to listen to me, 
 a moment, if you have the time to spare," the speaker 
 expressed herself much as anyone having a matter which 
 only required presentation to secure approval and adop- 
 tion would have spoken. 
 
 Bradford Simons very graciously unbent and in- 
 formed his housekeeper that he would be pleased to 
 hear her statement. 
 
 "You are not going to marry De Braddock," with 
 startling abruptness, announced Mona Walker, while 
 
MONA SETTLES BRAD. 335 
 
 maintaining her demeanor of quiet conviction as to Si- 
 mon's acceptance and endorsement of her views. 
 
 Had two or three of the bombshells plentifully 
 hurled about like footl)alls, a little before that time, by a 
 number of mistaken players both north and south in the 
 game of war, fallen from the sky, through Brad's roof 
 and ceilings, and landed upon the coffee cup poised, in 
 the cattle dealer's hand, under the cattle dealer's nose 
 in the act of drinking, there could hardly have been a 
 more startling and more convincing result. The cup 
 of coffee was set down so violently in its saucer by the 
 surprised forces of Mr. Simons ' mental fortress, that the 
 hot coffee was flung wildly up like the eruption of the 
 famous crater at Petersburg during our Civil Contro- 
 versy, and the saucer, with a shock, was split in two 
 where a previous crack had rendered it especially sus- 
 ceptible to this mode of concussion. 
 
 The pretty housekeeper, to keep the embattled simile 
 alive another moment, stood and watched the havoc 
 wrought by the enemy's shell, with a touch of growing 
 scorn and contempt lighting up her pretty and express- 
 ive features ; and at last said, as quietly as ever : 
 
 ''Your temper is quite as masterful as usual." 
 
 "What do you mean — what do you mean?" choked 
 and spluttered the stock raiser, getting red in the face — 
 "v/hat," he stammered, as he gradually recovered 
 speech, "I say, do you mean?" 
 
 "Your infatuation for De Braddock, who is too good 
 for you, by the way, has added a touch of mental de- 
 rangement to your naturally angelic disposition," re- 
 plied JMona with agreeable irony. "Now, Mr. Simons, 
 when, through a wholly unaccountable impulse, I con- 
 sented to leave school teaching and become your house- 
 keeper, I did not do it with any intention of permitting 
 the superior money considerations you offered me to take 
 
336 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 charge of your home blind me to certain other rights I 
 have entertained by reason of proiiiises entered into, on 
 your part, in regard to yourself and myself. It is un- 
 fortunate that the written agreement to marry me was 
 stolen from the bank, but you are not going to marry De 
 Braddock." 
 
 The full, rotund visage of Simons wore the appear- 
 ance of about to usher in an apoplectic fit upon its full 
 blooded and high tempered possessor. 
 
 Wholly undisturbed. i\Iona looked on with a smiling 
 and amused face. 
 
 Finally, his sudden attack of spleen seeming to sub- 
 side, the stockman composed somewhat his distorted and 
 working countenance. 
 
 "As you say," he, at length, managed to articulate 
 thickly, "these attacks of temper Avill drive me beside 
 myself, some day; in which event," added the man with 
 a wicked look at the laughing woman, ' ' take care ! — oh, 
 you needn't laugh, — I'd do it, in a minute," said he, 
 giving tongue to some unuttered and deadly thought, 
 "I would." 
 
 At this, the woman burst into a peal of laughter, that 
 sounded over the house and smote the hearer with its 
 note of sharp defiance. The man glared impotently for 
 a moment at the form beside him, and went on, 
 
 "This temper '11 be the death of me," and panting, 
 with a quick seizure of shortness of breath and vertigo, 
 he dragged and tugged at his collar, while the house- 
 keeper coolly and unconcernedly handed him a glass of 
 water. 
 
 Simons drank some of the water, and set the glass 
 on the table. 
 
 "Now!" presently said Simons, gazing into the calm 
 and serene face of the woman, and referring, as the 
 
MONA SETTLES BRAD. 337 
 
 housekeeper well knew, to his purpose with regard to De 
 Braddock; "how are you going to prevent it?" 
 
 "That I shall not tell you," replied the other, as 
 though, notwithstanding, the ways and means were se- 
 curely fixed upon; "but I have this, also, i\Ir. Simons, 
 to say, — De Braddock cares no more for you tlian my 
 little fmger, and William White — " 
 
 Mona paused, with really an instinct of alarm, at 
 the sudden and renewed evidence of Simons' fit of rage. 
 
 " I '11 kill him, ' ' hoarsely articulated the livid man. 
 
 "There, there," said the housekeeper, as she might 
 have spoken to a spoiled child, — "no you won't." 
 
 "I'll kill him, and I'll kill you," cried the man, his 
 face working violently. 
 
 "I repeat," retorted the woman, gazing with a 
 strong, steady look into Simons' face, "that you'll do 
 nothing of the kind. You'll kill neither William Wliite 
 nor myself. But I '11 say this to end the matter, that De 
 Braddock loves William White, and she'll marry him," 
 and the speaker quietly left the room. 
 
 Simons, alone, with his face turned in the direction 
 of the departing housekeeper, stared in a fascinated gaze 
 at the open door by which she had effected her decisive 
 not to say satisfactory exit. How long he would have 
 remained in this attitude, had he not been disturbed, it 
 would be impossible to say. The sound of voices in the 
 yard without aroused him, and muttering, 
 
 "Those d — n drovers," he rose from the breakfast 
 table, and passed out of the house. As he left the break- 
 fast room, he, a second time, muttered to himself, with 
 deeper and more enduring oaths and an emphasis there 
 wsa no mistaking : 
 
 "I'll do it — and, if she pushes me, I'll do her. But, 
 by G — ! I '11 do White, ' ' and, with this ominous threat, 
 •Simons was seen to draw apart with his villainous Ipok- 
 
338 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ing assistants, in a manner, that, had its import been 
 known, would have been found to bode no good to Will- 
 iam White. 
 
 Another had come into the yard besides the drovers. 
 That other was Parson Woods, pausing for a neighborly- 
 call in passing, and especially conferring his visit upon 
 Mona Walker, in whom the minister had lately displayed 
 a deep and growing professional if not personal inter- 
 est; and been gratified to find that interest not wholly 
 objectionable to the fair and intelligent object of it. 
 
 Brad, Brad ! could you but be warned, in time. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A TREACHEROUS AND MURDEROUS ASSAULT. 
 
 White, in dressing gown and slippers, was sitting, 
 one evening, alone, in his room. Cozy quarters, by the 
 joint aid of the feminine tact and taste of Widow Walm- 
 sey and his own inclinations, had been fitted up for the 
 toiling and faithful writer's accommodation. The apart- 
 ment was upon the second floor and was large and 
 roomy. A lighted lamp rested upon a comfortable writ- 
 ing table. A bookcase, containing a few select volumes 
 supplying an author's wants, took up a narrow width 
 of wall to the right of the table. The room possessed a 
 neat home made carpet known, singularly with a popu- 
 lar phase of modern music, as the rag variety; and an 
 old fashioned, high four-post bedstead, in a corner of the 
 apartment, was appointed with clean white linen, to- 
 gether with the old time piece-quilt counterpane. Here 
 and there upon his walls, the young bachelor had maga- 
 zine prints of the day — one of a horse — another of a boat 
 race, — still another of a fashionably dressed and dashing 
 young woman of the period, who was enjoyably dislocat- 
 ing her spine in a '"Grecian bend," a fascinating and 
 appealing pose of the day delightfully corresponding to 
 the equally "fetching" "kangaroo hump" of our more 
 modern sanity. On the wall, above his writing table, 
 was a framed miniature of De. Beneath the latter. 
 White had arranged his several different kinds of pipes 
 — a long stemmed white English clay — a churchwarden 
 — side by side with a plain American cob ; and, blending 
 
 339 
 
340 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 with its less costly neighbors, a handsome meerschaum, 
 a present from De Braddock, reared its carved lion's 
 crest from the center of the group of smoker's solaces. 
 
 The night was warm; the windows were up, and the 
 smell of the country evening filled the room. 
 
 The door opened and Smoky Billings hurriedly en- 
 tered. 
 
 "Cap'n," exclaimed Billings, who was quite pale, 
 ** there's a feller, do\vTi stairs, 'at says a accident's hap- 
 pened to Peter Braddock an' Miss De." 
 
 "What! — where?" cried White, springing to his 
 feet. 
 
 "DoAvn the road. Hosses run off," answered Smoky 
 Billings, displaying an excitement and concern equal to 
 if not exceeding Wliite 's own. 
 
 "Are they hurt?" queried the literary man, anx- 
 iously seeking for his coat, hat and shoes. 
 
 "Can't tell. Feller kind o' dumb headed," Smoky 
 replied, hastily assisting William White in his rapid ar- 
 rangements, drawing off the writer's dressing gown, and 
 supplying, in general, the missing arm. 
 
 "Get my horse," finally said Wliite, running from 
 the room and do^^Ti stairs, where, followed by Billings, 
 he found the messenger who had brought the distracting 
 tidings of mischance. 
 
 The fellow, slouchy, rough, with an unmistakably 
 evil cast of the eye, and a mouth about which streams of 
 tobacco juice, from time to time, had left plentiful traces 
 of irrigation, stood silently waiting in the dooryard 
 without. 
 
 "What it is. Bill?" cried White, recognizing the 
 man as a well known character about the vicinity. 
 
 "They're dumped," replied Bill speaking with what 
 might have appeared to White, under any other cir- 
 cumstances, a singularly evasive and furtive look, — 
 
A TREACHEROUS ASSAULT. 341 
 
 ''they're dumped in thuh road below," the speaker 
 threw out his arm to the south to indicate that s«/rae- 
 where in that direction Uncle Peter Braddock and the 
 object of White's heart's best affections were in trouble. 
 
 "How'd it happen?" White's next question follow- 
 ing, as he reappeared from the house where he had been 
 after a customary and forgotten weapon. 
 
 "Comin' up frum town, ye see — " said the man, 
 when Smoky Billings, who, with almost incredible de- 
 spatch, had saddled William White's horse for him, was 
 at the gate interrupting the messenger's speech. 
 
 "Come!" exclaimed the writer, vaulting into the 
 saddle; "we'll talk on the go." 
 
 "I'll come, Mr. White," cried Smoky, "if I kin git 
 a boss." 
 
 White contented himself with nodding his head 
 quickly, and sat on his horse impatiently waiting for the 
 messenger to untie his own animal and mount. 
 
 As Billings' employer and the latter 's mounted com- 
 panion broke into a gallop down the road. Smoky moved 
 swiftly in the direction of the fields adjoining Widow 
 Walmsey's little patch of land. 
 
 Where Smoky Billings got a horse, that night, is not 
 known; though, doubtless, among the loose stock in the 
 neighboring pastures he managed to find a mount ; and, 
 without saddle or briddle, — having but a rope halter 
 with which to guide the animal, — Billings was not long 
 i'l following his friend and chief. 
 
 "Pretty tough looking customer, that," thought 
 Smoky, expressing to himself an opinion of the messen- 
 ger, and urging his horse, which happened to be but a 
 fairly good animal, to as great a rate of speed as it was 
 capable of in his efforts to overtake the fleeter progress 
 of the two horsemen ahead. 
 
342 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "How much farther, Bill?" asked De's old lover, 
 following some time of swift and silent riding. 
 
 "Jes' aroun' the bend beyon' the run crossin' ther 
 road, at Stoner's grove," replied the other, meaning 
 that they were bound for a point beyond a turn in the 
 highway a little distance after crossing a small stream 
 now not far from where they then were. 
 
 "See Simons, lately?" inquired the literary man, 
 obeying, in the asking of this seemingly singularly timed 
 question, a prompting difficult to explain. 
 
 Bill looked startled. 
 
 "Uh — uh — " he stuttered, in, to White's sense, a 
 most unusual manner. 
 
 White glanced at him curiously, 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked the writer. 
 
 ' ' Nothin ', ' ' returned the other hastily. ' ' Seen 'im — 
 Simons — t'other day," continued the man scowling, 
 with what seemed a look of lowering suspicion, out of 
 the corner of his eye, at the rider moving rapidly at his 
 side. "There's the place," he growled, as a thick grove 
 of beech came in sight. 
 
 They were galloping on a stretch of road bordered 
 by cornfields and, now and then, clumps of trees close 
 to the roadside. The way was level and ran so until, en- 
 tering more extended pieces of wood on either side, it 
 declined in a gentle slope, when it crossed a small brook 
 — fed, in drought, by a celebrated mineral spring in that 
 locality — and which traversed the highway at right 
 angles. At this point, the gloom was deeper than at 
 others, the trees growing close to the roadside almost 
 forming an arch overhead and tending to obscure what 
 meager light came from the stars. 
 
 As the two approached the wood, William White, to 
 whom every object in that vicinity was as familiar as 
 day, was affected by a strange thrill of unaccountable 
 
A TREACHEROUS ASSAULT. 343 
 
 apprehension at the somber and forbidding aspect of the 
 dark opening showing between the sides of the tree lined 
 way, like the mouth of a tunnel, where their own course 
 plunged into the denser timber. 
 
 Slightly in advance of his companion, White here en- 
 tered the stretch which ran through the grove. The 
 hard riding man took no notice, or he would have seen 
 the faithless messenger silently rein in his horse and dis- 
 appear among the trees at the roadside. The writer had 
 reached the edge of the small stream crossing the high- 
 way, and his horse had placed a forefoot in the water, 
 with a jerking decline of the head in an effort to reach a 
 drinking place, when, from the right, a quick flash cut 
 the night, and, breaking the silence of the wood, a shot 
 rang out. White heard the vicious zing of a bullet, so 
 familiar to the ex-soldier's ears, go by so close to his 
 head that he felt the brush of air as the missle fanned his 
 cheek. The horse reared wildly with fright, and the 
 rider taken by surprise was thrown from the animal's 
 back. The unhorsed man landed upon the soft earth at 
 the margin of the creek. He was instantly upon his feet, 
 uninjured save for a bruise or two and a thorough shak- 
 ing up. As White rose, the horse, loosed from his mas- 
 ter's hand, bounded into the stream and, dashing 
 through the water, went careering madly up the road, 
 where turning a bend the animal was lost to sight. 
 
 The ex-soldier instinctively felt for his revolver. It 
 had been lost upon the road. Struggling to his feet, he 
 mechanically grasped a large stone, now his only 
 weapon. He swiftly and searehingly scanned the wood 
 in front of him, whence had seemed to come the report 
 of the gun. He saw no one. For the first time, White 
 became conscious of the absence of Bill. He turned, 
 twisting, stooped and dodging to escape further fire, and 
 
344 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 made for the trees in his rear. The semi darkness great. 
 ly favored his escape. 
 
 As the writer started to seek shelter, he heard some- 
 one, who had evidently emerged into the open road be- 
 hind him, cry, 
 
 "Ketch him, boys, ner he'll gin' us ther slip." 
 
 White was fleetly covering the few paces between 
 himself and the friendly cover at the roadside, when his 
 footing slipped, and he came near falling. As he 
 wheeled and straightened, one man was at him. Two 
 more were coming from the wood across the way. The 
 first ruffian held, clubbed above his head, a squirrel rifle. 
 He brought it down with terrific force. White sprang 
 nimbly to one side, and the gun carried on by the tre- 
 mendous momentum which it had received struck the 
 ground, the fierce impact breaking the stock and dashing 
 the formidable instrument from the owner's grasp. 
 White struck the man a crushing blow on the head \nth 
 the stone he still held, stunning and knocking his assail- 
 ant down. The others sprang at the one armed soldier. 
 The latter 's one weapon had loosened and flo\\Ti from 
 his fingers. 
 
 As has been somewhere before remarked, William 
 White was very muscular and an athlete, having trained 
 extensively in his college days, and he put forth all his 
 strength and skill. His one arm shot straight from the 
 shoulder at the approaching leader of the two remaining 
 miscreants. His fist caught the object of his blow 
 squarely upon the tip of the chin and dropped the fellow 
 like a log. In the language of the ring, it was a ' ' knock 
 out," and the man lay without consciousness. The 
 writer now had but one to deal with, but the latter, pro- 
 fiting by the instant of time taken in the defeat of his 
 last companion, threw himself upon the assaulted man, 
 and clasping him ■wdth both arms about the body, fast- 
 
A TREACHEROUS ASSAULT. 345 
 
 ened White 's one arm to his side, leaving the captive like 
 a trussed and skewered fowl awaiting roasting. The en- 
 suing struggle was a fierce one mixed with oaths from 
 White's antagonist, who, different from his silent foe, 
 was thus badly "winding" himself; but whose arms, 
 encircling the writer, seemed, to the latter, to bind like 
 iron about his ribs. The pinioned victim maintained an 
 unbroken silence. At last, by a nearly superhuman ef- 
 fort, he succeeded in getting his one arm free from the 
 other's embrace, and instantly darted the liberated hand 
 at the brawny neck of his foe. It is said, and with 
 equal truth, that the power of any lost member of the 
 human body goes into its surviving mate. White's 
 strength of arm seemed to partake of the nature of that 
 of a giant — a Hercules. The disguise worn in common 
 with the others by his present opponent, at this moment, 
 fell from the latter 's face, and the one armed fighter 
 recognized the man who had decoyed him hither. The 
 ruffian's familiar and malignant features were all that 
 were necessary to inflame the sight and deadly deter- 
 mination of the maddened soldier to a final pitch of un- 
 relenting death. 
 
 The athletic writer was panting, — as he fastened his 
 fingers in his assailant's throat, every muscle in his own 
 body swelling; the other, likewise, was beginning to 
 show punishment. 
 
 "So, Bill, it's you, is it?" said White shutting his 
 teeth, and concentrating all his power in the grip jf his 
 fingers, until the wretch in his grasp gasped for breath. 
 Faint and dying, the choking man loosened his hold 
 upon his antagonist's body and, with both hands, 
 clutched at his adversary's fingers closed in a deathlike 
 grip upon his throat. As the man's hands sought 
 Wliite's grasp, the latter, wdth a quick movement of his 
 right foot learned in his wrestling days at college, trip- 
 
346 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ped his foe, and the ruffian went down with a crash. The 
 man attempted to rise. White threw himself upon him, 
 and again bore him to the earth where, once more fasten- 
 ing his hold in the man's throat, he slowly compressed it 
 until the fellow's tongue protuded from his mouth. Try 
 as the latter would, he found himself unable to loosen 
 those hooks of steel pressing out his life. The fixed and 
 immovable strength of the practiced athlete was pinning 
 the writhing man to the earth like, when a death-dealing 
 transfix is passed through the body of an insect, it is 
 held in eternal rigor and fate. 
 
 White's prostrate foe was rapidly losing conscious- 
 ness beneath the iron pressure of the writer's grip, 
 when one of the two who had been previously disabled, 
 slowly recovering his senses, rose to his elbow. He gazed 
 about him. With an oath, he perceived the victorious 
 man kneeling upon the body of his accomplice, and 
 staggered to his feet. 
 
 The sound of galloping horses came faintly from up 
 the road. White saw the last man gain his footing. He 
 felt his own strength, great as it had been, had reached 
 its limit. He shouted, 
 "Murder!" 
 
 As the newly risen ruffian made a lunge to reach his 
 foe, the latter involuntarily uprose to meet his new as- 
 sailant, and left Bill lying still and motionless upon the 
 earth. 
 
 The sound of galloping horses grew louder. 
 And the two were locked in a death struggle. White 
 was down — now up, and the other underneath — then 
 they rolled over upon the ground, and White's oppo- 
 nent was on top. 
 
 Clearer and louder sounded the horses' feet upon the 
 hardened roadway. 
 
A TREACHEROUS ASSAULT. 347 
 
 Wliite had no breath to spare. He heard the hoof- 
 beats, and tugged and strained at his foe. 
 
 Two riders dashed upon the scene. 
 
 They leaped from their horses, and Smoky Billings, 
 who, by chance, had been joined by Bob Likkum, seized 
 the man struggling with the hard pressed writer, while 
 Likkum sprang at another rising from the ground. The 
 latter turned and fled into the woods. Deeming it un- 
 advisable to follow, Likkum assisted White to his feet, 
 where the "hero of the fray" stood recovering his 
 breath. 
 
 Billings coolly proceeded to attend to the man just 
 deposed from his seat of power on "William Wliite 's 
 chest. 
 
 White slowly regaining powers of speech, and Lik- 
 kum watching him do it, Bill very prudently slipped 
 away, serpentwise wriggling upon his stomach off among 
 the trees, having unnoticed, in part, revived from the 
 effects of the deadly throttling received from his late 
 adversary. There was a moment of disorder, as the 
 murderous ruffian was seen to disappear in the wood, 
 and taking advantage of it, Smoky Billings' captive 
 broke from the detaining grasp of Smoky, first hitting 
 that much surprised gentleman smartly upon the head, 
 thereby confusing his ideas greatly. 
 
 The three assailants of White had escaped. 
 
 Bill was never, again, seen in that locality. 
 
 Brad Simons had played and lost. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A SUBTLE SKEIN IN THE WARP AND WOOF THAT FATE WILL 
 
 EVER WEAVE — IS EVER WEAVING. A DOUBT. NANCE 
 
 AND DE. JOHN BRADDOCK's SISTER YIELDS 
 
 TO BRAD SIMONS. 
 
 ' It is but fair to say, that De Braddock was still in a 
 state of great doubt and anxiety over her brother's com- 
 ing trial for the murder of Zeke Smithin, to which she 
 had been wrought up by the remark of White in the jail, 
 that someone must be found to testify to an alihi for 
 John. Put the matter as she would, it always recurred 
 to the same point of view: Anyone who could supply 
 such aid, and did not, would be guilty of the possible 
 destruction of her brother. To increase the confusion 
 of her understanding, the additional fact insinuated it- 
 self, — that, whatever might be the truth or falsity of the 
 evidence given in court to clear her brother, it would still 
 place upon him or her, refusing to give it, the responsi- 
 bility of consigning the jeopardized man to a fate wholly 
 beyond her terrified powers of comprehension. De could 
 be brave as to her own welfare, but she trembled and 
 even magnified terrors, like many another courageous 
 and loving soul, when the well being of those, who hold 
 warm and abiding place in the heart, is at stake. Si- 
 mons had been untiring and persistent, and only waited 
 what seemed to him a suitable opportunity to disclose 
 some definite plan of succor for John, and thus afford 
 himself a reason for finally claiming her discharge of 
 their tacit agreement of marriage. Thus wrenched in 
 
 348 
 
A SKEIN OF FATE'S WEAVING. 349 
 
 her love for her brother, she spent many a sleepless 
 night over her brooding cares and fears. The deeper 
 dye of the red rose left her cheek, and the way looked 
 dark enough, without the inevitable and unwelcome 
 reappearance of the scheming and detestable Brad Si- 
 mons himself upon the scene. 
 
 It was but accident that, again, brought her and 
 Brad together in the little town of T . 
 
 So sensitive was De's conscience, religious and other- 
 wise, that, when Simons said to her, "An alibi De, and 
 I am looking for one, — an alibi is what is wanted, now, 
 most of all — an alibi to clear John," De fell into re- 
 newed trembling, and the doubt and perplexity of her 
 mind reached its climax. "An alibi I" — should no other 
 one but herself be found, would she not have to be the 
 witness to one? The delicacy of her nature had re- 
 strained her, up to this time, from communicating the 
 filmy vagaries and uncertainties of her secret hopes and 
 dreads to even William White himself; from whom, in 
 the high esteem in which the girl held him, unconsciously 
 the original suggestion now animating her thoughts to 
 the exculsion of all else had emanated, at the time of 
 their visit to the jail. If she had dreamed, in her own 
 personal evidence, of manufacturing the testimony that 
 would rescue John Braddock from his threatened dan- 
 ger, the thought had been one of such gravity to her 
 acute and super-inflamed condition of mind that she 
 had scarcely permitted herself to acknowledge to her 
 own soul, much less to another's, the enormity of such a 
 course. 
 
 And here was Brad Simons — one looking actively, in 
 her distinct knowledge and his own statement just made 
 to her, for that the very want of which was occasioning 
 her such insupportable unrest. Brad, in this way, came, 
 at once, into the zone of her entire maiden confidences. 
 
350 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 But when Nance Braddock, John's wife, who was in 
 
 T on account of both her husband and brother, was 
 
 seen by De near the little country tavern, John Brad- 
 dock's distracted sister welcomed a respite from a final 
 plunge into those deep waters of casuistry and subtle 
 seeming conventional wrong that right might be. Hastily 
 excusing herself, therefore, to Brad, she hurried after 
 Nance, grasping at the unusual personality of her broth- 
 er's wife like a drowning creature at a straw. Nance, 
 too, was painfully conscious of the irregular in her own 
 relations of life, owing to the singularity of her mar- 
 riage v/ith John Braddock. 
 
 "I think you are a true wife and a good, honest, lov- 
 ing mother," said De impulsively to Nance Braddock, 
 as the two saddened and sorrowing women lingered seek- 
 ing mutual sympathy and comfort; "and I feel the 
 same for you, dear, as I would for a sister of my own." 
 
 Misery loves company; adversity unites. 
 
 The words of De had been called forth by poor hum- 
 ble Nance's deprecation of her marriage to John, out of 
 which had grown the incriminating threat, by her hus- 
 band, against the life of Zeke Smithin. 
 
 "And you are not ashamed of me?" rejoined Nance, 
 gazing wistfully into De's lovely face. 
 
 "Oh! why should I be?" cried the other from the 
 depth of her own great trouble. 
 
 "But, dear sister, — may I call you so?" appealingly 
 asked the wife of De's brother. 
 
 "You may, indeed." 
 
 "Sister, can you understand the scorn of women for 
 the kind who have been unfortunate? Can you," said 
 the woman with timid hesitancy in the presence of the 
 girl, "know the burning contempt they bestow upon 
 such and take pleasure in the pain they have caused — 
 the joy with which they cast your sorrows, misery and 
 
A SKEIN OF FATE'S WEAVING. 351 
 
 suffering in your very face? Can you — you cannot — 
 no, you cannot," cried the woman, "know the heart 
 that breaks under the loads of slights and sneers and 
 cruelty that human beings heap on those who are found 
 to have fallen in their path! ^lay you never know — 
 may God be thanked that you do not!" 
 
 De, for a moment, was silent under the merited re- 
 proach and judgment upon humanity, in these words 
 from her sex. And the woman before her looked not to 
 the past alone, when, unwedded, this exclusion from 
 human sympathy and support, in the great struggle 
 of life, existed without stint or check ; but no change, no 
 alteration of state wherein the voice of wifely fidelity 
 and maternal worth was heard perfect and complete ap- 
 peared to plead for the once erring, extenuate the of- 
 fense, conciliate or reconcile the virtuous in the pitiful 
 failings of our fallen, infirm kind made to stumble, fall, 
 rise and try again. 
 
 Let them without ill, reject those with it ! 
 
 While Nance Braddock and De were thus engaged, 
 Parson Woods came up; and Peter Braddock 's daughter, 
 without delay or explanation, announced that she and 
 Nance were starting on a visit to Nance's brother Tom. 
 Parson Woods cordially expressed a desire to accompany 
 the two women; and the three, at once, made their way 
 around to the jail, at no great distance from the hotel. 
 
 "Maybe, here," thought De, "something might be 
 learned from Tom Bolers, that would offer a way to 
 what she sought — her brother's release from unmerited 
 suspicion." 
 
 At the jail, they were met by the sheriff, who quickly 
 showed them to Tom's cell. 
 
 Tom Bolers stood upon one side of the grated door 
 shutting him in, and Nance and John's sister and good 
 and worthy Parson Woods, his face shining with benevo- 
 
352 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 lence and christian charity, stood, in the narrow hall- 
 way, on the other side, 
 
 Tom had allowed his beard to grow, and a coarse, 
 profuse and unkempt effect of whiskers, together with a 
 head of disheveled hair and a generally neglected per- 
 son, gave the imprisoned object within the barred cell 
 the aspect of some strange specimen of wild animal peer- 
 ing out upon a group of casual visitors and sightseers. 
 "Whether the cause of these impressions was affected by 
 similar fancies, raging inwardly against captivity, or 
 whether the helpless captive accepted his fate like a sub- 
 dued wild beast, and callous to all absence of power to 
 control any other condition, is, perhaps, outside the 
 province of this narrative to say. It is highly probable 
 that we are kindly and wisel}^ adapted, in a special, sin- 
 gular and inscrutable providence, to the states to which 
 we are called, and so adapted upon the beneficent prin- 
 ciple propounded in the beautiful thought of Lawrence 
 Sterne : 
 
 ' ' The Lord tempers the wind to the shorn lamb ! ' ' 
 
 "Tom," said Nance softly and gently, as the brother, 
 with each hand above his head, holding a bar, placed his 
 face between his elbows, and stood looking at those with- 
 out, ' ' what have you done to bring this new trouble upon 
 us?" 
 
 The man, in silence, gazed stolidly, one might almost 
 have said uncomprehendingly, upon the little knot of 
 people in front of him. 
 
 "Bolers," added Parson Woods, "it is not necessary, 
 when you see who are here, to say that we come as 
 friends, my poor fellow, and," pursued the speaker, "it 
 is with the deepest wish to help, serve you in any and 
 all ways, that your friends and sister are here. No mat- 
 ter, Thomas," continued Woods fervently, the rest giv- 
 ing way in profound respect to the remarks of the 
 
A SKEIN OP FATE'S WEAVING. 353 
 
 preacher who, in common with others, had concluded 
 that Tom Avas guilty, — "no matter," repeated Woods, 
 "what the offense, what the deed, what the heart of 
 crime, there is always mercy in God ! ' ' 
 
 The prisoner maintained a dogged silence. 
 
 "Tom, can you tell us how this trouble about Zeke 
 Smithin happened?" said Parson Woods in a tone of 
 kind insistence. 
 
 Bolers' look of stolid immobility took on a slow and 
 labored change. He glanced from one to the other of 
 the party before his cell, with something like the dawn 
 of an intelligent comprehension growing in his face. His 
 eyes rested longest, as was natural, upon the face of his 
 sister, Nance. The queer, cunning scrutiny in the look 
 of the man, for it seemed nothing less than cunning, 
 flitted from the face of Nance to that of De. As the 
 glance of the man behind the bars rested upon the coun- 
 tenance of the sister of his brother-in-law John Brad- 
 dock, a slight gleam, one might almost have thought of 
 remorseful recollection, trembled for a single instant in 
 his eye and was, in that instant, gone. No one can say 
 how deeply the memory of kindness, done him by John 
 Braddock, may have actuated the feelings of Tom, at 
 this moment, or what might have been the secretly re- 
 gretted realization of impending disaster to John and 
 John's own which some past act of Bolers' was likely to 
 precipitate. None, let us hope, are without an instinct 
 dormant or otherwise for good. 
 
 "Parson," said the man, calmly, "ye know I ain't 
 no saint, but gamblin's tlie worst in this case." 
 
 "You do not know, then," queried Woods, "who 
 assaulted — killed — Zeke Smithin ? ' ' 
 
 "Nar}^ do I," replied the prisoner in a positive man- 
 ner and with an air of perfect truth. 
 
 "But the marked money, Tom, — you were knowTi to 
 
354 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 have it; the money that the faro dealer swears was that 
 which, on the occasion of the play and large winnings of 
 Zeke Smithin, the faro dealer gave to Zeke; how do you 
 account for that ? ' ' 
 
 "Ye don't account fur the birds, nur they to you 
 fur their nests," answered Tom enigmatically. 
 
 "Tom — Tom," said the parson sadly, turning from 
 the grating, "you know more of this business, than you 
 choose to tell," and the parson, who had naturally a hu- 
 mane heart and a head that, had it discovered any benefi- 
 cent and unemployed power of creed, would have has- 
 tened to apply it, moved, with a pained gesture, back and 
 to one side, and remained talking, in low-voiced sen- 
 tences, with the sheriff. 
 
 De had not spoken since the entrance of herself and 
 the others into the jail. She had been a patient and at- 
 tentive listener to all that had passed. It was not ap- 
 parent in her manner, whether she considered Tom in- 
 nocent or guilty of the crime laid at his and John's 
 door, — doubtless, it was sufficient for her to feel thor- 
 oughly satisfied of the impossibility of her brother's 
 guilt in such an affair. Nevertheless, De's thoughts had 
 not been idle. She stepped to the bars and placed a 
 hand in tender sympathy upon one of the prisoner's 
 roughened, soil-begrimed own. 
 
 "Tom," said the genuine and great-hearted girl, her 
 voice thrilling with compassion, "I pity you from the 
 bottom of my heart. If you are unjustly charged, all I 
 ask is, do mend your ways in the other concerns of your 
 life, should you ever be at liberty again. Do not think 
 that all are hard-hearted, Tom," pursued De, "or do 
 not wish you to be happy and free. There are those who 
 still love you, be you wliat you may, and wish you well. 
 — But, Tom, — Tom, cannot you help John?" 
 
 For a minute, the man, whose silence to all question- 
 
A SKEIN OF FATE'S WEAVING. 355 
 
 ing, beyond his assertion that he had won the incrimi- 
 nating money at play, might be seriously compromising 
 another, and that other this woman 's brother, — for a 
 minute, the imprisoned man appeared to struggle with 
 an effort to speak, working under the influence of the 
 powerful and magnetic kindness of De's voice and 
 speech. His lips parted. That Avas all. The next mo- 
 ment, he was as taciturn as ever. After a time spent by 
 the brother and sister in such communion as Nance, 
 prompted by a sincere affection, could promote between 
 the two, John Braddock's wife proposed a dissolution of 
 the meeting. They, then, departed, as wise concerning 
 the Smithin murder as they had come, leaving Tom 
 Bolers, with his hands above his head, still holding the 
 bars of his cell door, and his face still peering out at 
 them from between his elbows. 
 
 And Brad Simons, again, carne to John's sister, and, 
 this time, in utter hopelessness and abandon, she poured 
 forth her soul. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE KENTUCKY MAN TAKES A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. 
 
 Bob Likkum, on a day set apart by him for a special 
 trip over to town, stopped his democrat and roan at 
 the rustic dwelling place of Ann Mariah Saunders, and 
 alighted at the door of her vine-covered cottage. 
 
 Ann was on the lookout, arrayed in a spotless gown, 
 and came forth, this morning, to greet Bob as the latter 
 advanced to the door. Bob was going to drive her to 
 town by previous and careful mutual arrangement. 
 
 ''Whoa!" shouted Likkum, turning sharply to the 
 roan, that animal making evident signs of distress in the 
 rattling shafts of the democrat and the stamping of roan 
 feet; "them hossflies is pow'rful," commented Ann's 
 escort, after returning from the slaughter of one of the 
 aforesaid insects that had settled, with murderous intent, 
 upon the flank of the suffering roan; "don't know what 
 I'll do." 
 
 "Be pretty sassy," assented the dutiful Ann Mariah, 
 looking very sweet and submissive. 
 
 "Do declare they be," repeated Likkum, — "them 
 there pesky little varmints is more bother 'n taxes. 
 Drive weth me over ter town, Ann ? ' ' and Bob, as though 
 he had just thought of it, paused without entering the 
 house. 
 
 "B'lieve I shall," said the coy maiden, as if for the 
 first time the idea had presented itself to her own mind. 
 
 The democrat presently rattled off with Ann and 
 Bob, the roan knowingly cocking liis ears when he neared 
 
 356 
 
A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. 357 
 
 a double row of thick and screening hazel bushes 
 through which the road ran. As democrat and burden 
 whisked briskly in between the hiding curtains of hazel 
 shrubbery, the experienced roan very slyly closed one 
 eye (was the action caused by another horsefly?) and 
 only opened the same upon emerging from the cozy lane 
 of hazels, at the other end, when a masculine arm with- 
 drew from Ann Mariah's waist and the vehicle arrived 
 in the open road simultaneously. 
 
 "Don't look," remarked Bob, "much 's if go'n' to 
 hev' rain," and fell silent from conversational exhaus- 
 tion. 
 
 "No," said Ann and, likewise, collapsed. 
 
 "Think Job '11 do it?" asked Bob in a most start- 
 lingly irrelevant and wholly incomprehensible sentence. 
 In view of Likkum's comments on the rain, it might 
 have been thought that the junior Saunders had, since 
 our last meeting with him and the guitar at Widow 
 Walmsey's, been transformed, by some miraculous pro- 
 cess, into the character of rain producer for that region. 
 
 Even gentle Ann ]\Iariah was, for the moment, 
 shocked into a state of suspense, involved with a little 
 creeping shuddering sensation of doubt, lest her usually 
 cool-headed cavalier had suddenly abandoned his senses 
 to the surrounding spaces of his "native heath." She 
 peered anxiously up into Bob Likkum's stolid and ex- 
 pressionless face. 
 
 "Do what, Robert?" she asked in mild and timid 
 surprise. 
 
 "The -svddder," answered Bob, in unconscious double 
 meaning, his reply being solely of that laconic and brief 
 nature, which merely means to suggest, \^-ithout unnec- 
 essary waste of time or verbiage, by the use of one lead- 
 ing word of a subject a natural and inevitable trend of 
 subsequent ideas. 
 
358 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Oh!" faintly exclaimed the enlightened lady at 
 Bob's side. She had perceived her companion's mean- 
 ing to be, "would her lazy and idle brother Job secure 
 the matrimonial prize offered in the equally unprovided 
 for Widow Walmsey?" 
 
 "I hope not," further, and in tones almost as inaudi- 
 ble as before, breathed Ann. 
 
 Robert had felt, in his previous observation, some- 
 thing akin to an absurd impulse of sympathy for Job, 
 and experienced the corresponding douche of ice-water 
 effect convej^ed in poor Ann's feeble response. 
 
 ' ' Ye hain 't got much f eelin ' f er lovers ! ' ' rebuked 
 Bob, in about tlie most lugubrious attempt at sportive 
 raillery ever heard. 
 
 "Oh, Robert," sighed the martyr in the democrat, 
 "I have to support — the little place," apologetically 
 amended Ann, "has to support Job and me," her un- 
 finished intended remark was the correct one, — she had 
 to support herself and Job, as her brother never, under 
 any possible pretext, was known to put upon himself the 
 dishonor of work, — "I have to support us both," said 
 Ann ]\Iariah breaking down completely, in both her in- 
 nocent, original subterfuge to shield the worthless Job, 
 and in her emotions, as well ; ' ' what, oh ! Bob, what 
 would become of us, if — " 
 
 "Shan't be," said Likkum, making unavailing ef- 
 forts to stem the flood of his own emotions, angry, sor- 
 rowful and otherwise, — "shan't be, I tell ye, — Job 
 shan't, — selfish, orn'ry feller — won't allow it, nohow, I 
 won't," which meant that Bob, upon realizing the pos- 
 sible miseries likely to result from "selfish, orn'ry" Job 
 Saunders bringing the additional responsibility of 
 Widow Walmsey upon the already sufificiently strained 
 Saunders' resources, had entered a wholesome protest 
 
A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. 359 
 
 against Job making the spectacle of himself pictured in 
 Ann Mariah's uncontrollable and spontaneous plaint. 
 
 And yet, until Ann could provide another nurse for 
 the infant (?) "Jobie," how could she be expected to 
 forsake the anchor of her duty to her flesh and blood, as 
 "orn'ry" as, in the depths of truth, that flesh and blood 
 was, and "cleave unto" Robert Likkum? That was 
 what rubbed Bob the wrong way, unless — ? 
 
 "Heaven," thought Bob, "forbid! marry and en- 
 joy Joberius's society in perpetooity? Flee, boys, flee, 
 flee fur your lives," finished Robert silently, in a burst 
 of inspiration of a decidedly expressive, original and 
 brilliant nature. 
 
 "Robert," fluttered the bird that felt the nestful 
 promptings at the side of her mate, "father might come 
 home, and rich," and Ann Mariah, after this final and 
 exhaustive demand upon her hopeful and imaginative 
 powers, sank into a silence too dense and profound to 
 be even affected by Likkum 's, 
 
 ' ' Oh ! Lord, ' ' groaned in the depths of despair over 
 the old, familiar reference to the derelict senior Saund- 
 ers, and, by his offspring, his confidently expected re- 
 turn in wealth to his needy kinsfolk. 
 
 The balance of the ride to the town of T was 
 
 consumed by the joltings of the democrat, sundry ef- 
 forts, on Bob's part, to "git," as he put it to himself, 
 "a bearin' on the subjeck," and, finally, by a harmo- 
 nious readjustment of the mutual feelings of Ann and 
 Bob, much to the apparent approval and satisfaction of 
 the roan, who testified his appreciation of the clearer 
 state of the sentimental atmosphere by a loud and gal- 
 lant neigh, while passing a pert and wonderingly star- 
 ing mare in an adjoining field. 
 
 And Bob took up the rest of Ann ]\Iariah's time and 
 pleasure with the Likkum version, so famous in the 
 
360 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Wabash country, of the story of "Aladdin and the Won- 
 derful Lamp," and, as will be clearly perceived, intro- 
 duced by Ann's devoted swain with telling force and 
 effect relating to politics, and of much interest in exist- 
 ing political fitness. 
 
 "Onc't," said Bob, "upon a time, in them days uv 
 long ago, they existed a majishun what, it is thinked, 
 wuz like one uv our modern rich Creesuses," (the en- 
 tertainer, it may be said, in the briefest possible inter- 
 ruption of Likkum's undeniable attractions as a story 
 teller, lived before the latter day Trust magnate sum- 
 moned the genii of fabled wealth to do his bidding; but 
 there were rich men in Bob's time, too,) "and," contin- 
 ued Robert, "this here majishun wuz mos' discontented 
 with his poor, small means, and aspired to be a gentle- 
 man of, at least, enough to keep ther wolf frum ther 
 door, ez he had on'y erbout a few milliuns. Well, this 
 majishun, he w^ent to a young man some'er's in Chiny 
 an' he sez, 'I'd like,' he sez, 'ef yer'll do me the lastin' 
 favor,' he sez, 'to b'lieve I'm yer kind, tender hearted, 
 long lost uncle,' he sez, 'an' go an' git me that 'air 
 lamp.' An' the young man, w'at didn't hev' no other 
 biz 'ness in life but fur ter b 'lieve anythin ' what ^^^^z said 
 to him by any man wantin' to increase his few paltery 
 little milliuns, he sez to the wicked majishun, he sez: 
 ' All right, ole cock, ' he sez, sez the young man ; an ' the 
 purtended uncle, fur to reconcile his unfort'nate doop 
 (dupe) to his a-proachin' fate, bought him a suit uv 
 clothes, fur the young man wtiz needin' 'em; an' ther 
 wicked and wily majishun, mos' gen'rous and flatterin', 
 informed the overpowered and pleas-ed young feller, that 
 the same young feller wuz cert'nly one of the most intel'- 
 junt and enlightened voters in the country; and the 
 young feller said, after that, 'at he'd git his gen 'r 'us rel- 
 ative the lamp, er help send him ter congress, er anything 
 
A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. 361 
 
 else, an' he got his uncle ther lamp; an' the young man 
 got it in the neck, and couldn't git out uv the cave, his 
 uncle put him in, 'cause uv the job the wicked majishun 
 had set up on him. So the young man got what the fel- 
 ler shot at; and the majishun, he overreached hisself, 
 like the politishun, an' he got nuthin', nuther; 'cause the 
 young man was shet up in the cave weth the lamp, an' 
 couldn't get out, nary. And ther purtended uncle, 
 ther wicked majishun, he'd lost ther combination; and, 
 arter hollerin' aroun' on ther outside uv the cave fur a 
 while, he quit an' went away." Robert Likkum looked 
 to see if his listener in the democrat had survived thus 
 far, and found much to his satisfaction, that Ann's eyes 
 were sparkling with interest and childlike pleasure. Con- 
 siderably refreshed and encouraged. Bob proceeded. 
 ''So, the wicked majishun," in high feather pursued the 
 narrator, ' ' went away mean ; and the young man was 
 left to hold the sack ; and the young feller, at the end of 
 a inkredible time alive wethout eatin', rubs a ring the 
 majishun 'd let him into, — or, at least, like the politi- 
 shun, one little finger, — and it shows the young man 
 how deep they've got 'im in the hole — whole ring," 
 added Likkum unable to resist the temptation ; " an ' the 
 giunt jeeny w'at comes at the beehest uv the ring tells 
 the young man he got ter get inter another ring, or no, ' ' 
 said Bob, correcting himself adroitly, "not another ring, 
 tho' the same thing, — the young man's referred up to 
 the nex' boss fur favors. An' the young man, he rubs 
 the lamp, and, this time, the head jeeny uv all rings, 
 he comes a-bowin', and a-salaamin', an' a-scrapin', an' 
 a-boviatin' aroun', and he sez, sez he, 'Wat would yer 
 be pleased fur to want?' and the wuntime doop of the 
 politishun — no, I mean the wicked majishun — the wun- 
 time doop, he sez, sez he, 'Have I the honor uv a-gittin' 
 a-hold,' sez he, 'uv the power behin' the throne,' sez he, 
 
362 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 *w'at my frien', the wicked majishun, he wanted fur ter 
 make me the innercent an ' onconshus tool fur ter git fur 
 himself?' sez the young .man; an' ther jeeny, he sez, 
 'Beggin' yer pardin,' he sez, 'yer hev'!' " Again the 
 story teller inspected his limited audience. 
 
 ''Did the young man get out of the cave, Robert?" 
 asked Ann Mariah, with eager interest, and a delighted 
 and simple look upon her sweet face. 
 
 "That 'air, Ann," said Bob, striking a particularly 
 large horsefly off the roan's back wdth a skilful flick of 
 his whip, "is w'at I am arter a-gettin' at. So, ag'in, I 
 may say, in the langwidge of the historiun," continued 
 Likkum, and Ann Mariah gave a long, low sigh of happy 
 content, "the young man, he picked bar 'Is uv purls frum 
 trees, and likewise dimun's, and jools," Likkum hesi- 
 tated not, in his critical approach to a climax, to explain 
 any lack of special difference between "purls and di- 
 mun's" and "jools," but hastened on; "and he got out 
 of the cave," this incidental, rather blunt and, as it 
 were, auxiliary climax was considerately reached for 
 the relief of Ann's feelings engrossed with the possible 
 liberation of the magician's imprisoned victim. "And," 
 went on Bob, hopelessly mixing up the magician and the 
 politician, "the politician, he found a castle the doop, 
 he built, weth the a-'sistance uv ther magic lamp, an' 
 the politician, he tuk that; and the politician, he found 
 a red hot stove, w'at the doop hed heated fur to cook 
 his dinner, and he tuk that, and he found a wife the 
 doop hed got, an' he tried to take that," and Ann's 
 lover was, for the last time, interrupted by Ann 's breath- 
 less inquiry, 
 
 "Robert, did he take that?" 
 
 "No," said Bob, after a moment's deliberation, "he 
 drawed the line there, — not but w'at the wife'd a-gone, 
 
A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. 363 
 
 too," said Bob ruminatively, ''ef that 'air politishim'd 
 a-hed his way. ' ' 
 
 ' ' And, ' ' said Ann Mariah after the narrator had evi- 
 denced, by an unusually prolonged silence, that the final 
 climax of the thrilling story might have transpired, "is 
 that all?" 
 
 "That," said Bob, much, in the way of silence, ar- 
 gument, accustomed and well informed viewing of farm 
 landscape, having fallen out since leaving Ann's abode, 
 — "that," repeated Likkum, catching a glimpse of the 
 first appearance, in the distant vista, of the church 
 
 spire, at the town of T , "be, ez near," said he 
 
 carefully, "ez I kin reck'lect, a-bout all, — although," 
 reflectively, after a pause, "I b'lieve they finully 
 tlirowed that 'ere politishun inter ther river." 
 
 After a brief and eloquent silence, in which Ann and 
 Robert lapsed into the depths of wordless and express- 
 ive "sparkin'," Bob Likkum spoke up. 
 
 "An' thet 'air reminds me," said William White's 
 political friend and backer, "thet 'air politishun: he'd 
 orter to be throwed inter ther river; an' so'd orter Jason 
 Jump an' Ben Grigscomb. I must git 'em, our party, 
 a-organized fur Billy White's nomination fur con- 
 gress. ' ' 
 
 Bob drove down the main street of T in a 
 
 satisfied frame of mind, for Ann and he had succeeded 
 in spending, upon their drive of five miles, a most pleas- 
 ant and agreeable time of wisdom, jest and other — es- 
 pecially the other — social intercourse. 
 
 As Likkum 's roan drew the democrat up to the door 
 of the Traver's Hotel, Uncle Peter Braddock, Benjamin 
 Grigscomb and Bradford Simons, together with Williana 
 White, were seen standing beneath the trees in front of 
 the town tavern. 
 
 Uncle Peter was animated and talkative; Grigscomb 
 
364 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 was listening with deep apparent attention, and White 
 and Simons, seemingly oblivious of all but entirely 
 friendly relations, were quietly interchanging words of 
 speech upon the subject of John's approaching trial. 
 
 It is doubtful whether William White was ever thor- 
 oughly satisfied as to Brad Simons' part in that night 
 attack. Smoky Billings, however, following a hint con- 
 veyed by Bob Likkum's recognition of the perfidious and 
 murderous messenger Bill, as one of Brad Simons' drov- 
 ers, permitted himself, in subsequent speculations upon 
 the responsibility for the assault, to dwell, at consider- 
 able length, upon the possible share Brad might be sup- 
 posed to have taken in White's waylaying. 
 
 Still, v/ith the disappearance of Bill from the country, 
 and the care with which Simons had covered up his own 
 tracks, the inspiration of the attack was never positively 
 fixed. One good, however, resulting from Smoky's sus- 
 picions, was to increase if possible the vigilance of 
 White's employe; so that Simons, at this time, scarcely 
 moved or breathed without Billings, in some way, keep- 
 ing himself informed of those actions, on the part of the 
 cattle raiser. 
 
 As Bob Likkum drove up, Simons was saying to 
 White, with a secret and malicious satisfaction it was 
 difficult to conceal: 
 
 "You remember. White, that witness to John's 
 alibi — the one I spoke to Grigseomb about, that day,— 
 ahem! — that day, you and I had our little misunder- 
 standing ? ' ' 
 
 White said he remembered perfectly well. 
 
 "I've got the witness sure as you're born," said 
 Brad, with the sly insinuation of one otherwise con- 
 sidering something which he felt certain would not be 
 pleasant to his companion. 
 
 William White was either unconscious of the other's 
 
A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. 365 
 
 manner, or determined to give no occasion for a renewal 
 of hostilities between Simons and himself, for he an- 
 swered that he was heartily glad to hear Simons say 
 so. He showed the liveliest interest in Brad's informa- 
 tion, and turned to the cattleman with evidence of relief 
 and satisfaction in his face and in his voice. 
 
 "You must know, Brad," exclaimed the literary 
 man, "that this that you have told us is all we have 
 been waiting for. If what you say is true, and, of 
 course, I do not doubt it, you have rescued John from a 
 most unpleasant if not a most dangerous situation. 
 Who is the witness?" asked White naturally enough. 
 
 But this, Simons declined to say, asserting liis inten- 
 tion of privately communicating such knowledge 
 alone to La-wyer Grigscomb. The wdly and unscrupu- 
 lous cattleman was bent, if possible, upon retaining ex- 
 clusive control of the various stages of proceedings 
 which involved the final mastery not only of John Brad- 
 dock's case but that of De Braddock, his sister, as well. 
 Brad, as "vnll soon be seen, already occupied, in the mind 
 of the trusting and confiding country girl, the place 
 of inspirer of the means of saving and savior of her 
 imperiled brother, and Brad Simons did not intend, by 
 any false or ill advised step, to allow himself to risk the 
 loss of the continued occupancy of that place of vantage. 
 
 "What's that!" exclaimed Benjamin Grigscomb, 
 turning quickly to Brad; "have you found that witness 
 you were telling me about ? " 
 
 Brad said he had. 
 
 "You should have reported to me, at once," said 
 the laveyer somewhat impatiently. 
 
 Simons mumbled some excuse or other. 
 
 "See, here," said Uncle Peter to Simons, "Bradford, 
 why ain't ye speak to me, 'bout sich a important 
 thing?" 
 
366 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Just waiting my chance, while you discussed Hi- 
 ram's illness with Grigscomb," responded Brad cheerily. 
 
 "Wliat do you think," asked Uncle Peter address- 
 ing himself to Benjamin Grigscomb, — "I say, Grigs- 
 comb," and Uncle Peter's voice took on a shade of 
 anxiety, ''what do ye think uv it?" 
 
 "What — of j\Ir. Simons' communications?" replied 
 the attorney, — ' ' of the very greatest importance. ' ' 
 
 "Be they?" said Uncle Peter wistfully. 
 
 "How's Hiram, Peter?" called Bob from his seat in 
 the democrat, with Ann still by his side, and arriving 
 at this moment. 
 
 "Got a fightin' chanst. Bob," said old Braddock 
 thankfully and happily. 
 
 The Kentucky man had unexpectedly surprised 
 those about him, taken a turn for the better and was 
 still alive. 
 
 "Glad to hear it," rejoined the sincere inquirer 
 cordially; and Bob Likkum and Ann Mariah passed on. 
 
 "Gentlemen — gentlemen, the hangin' 's over; go 
 home — go home — go home," chanted a voice, its un- 
 canny owner coming swiftly from behind the corner of 
 the inn, "go home — go home — go home, — 'thout," la- 
 mented the speaker, "ye hain't no home. Did some- 
 un'," asked the flighty newcomer stopping in front of 
 Uncle Peter, "break up your home? Mine broke — my 
 heart broke — long ago ! You — all of you, ' ' cried Rachel 
 Bolers wildly, "go home, if you have homes. Do you," 
 continued the poor creature, moving to Simons with an 
 appearance of disordered recollection of Brad, "mend 
 hearts, or break them?" 
 
 "There, there, my poor creature, — there," enjoined 
 Simons, with a pretense of soothing in his tones, "go 
 along — go along." 
 
 "They didn't hang the right man, did they?" que- 
 
A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. 367 
 
 ried the distracted female, coming closer to Simons, and 
 peering more intently into the face of the observant man. 
 "Did they — did they hang the right man?" she repeated 
 with almost sane insistence. "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed 
 the questioner; "we know — we know what's at the root 
 of all troubles an' trials and trib'lations, don't we?" 
 and the mowing figure stood and nodded mysteriously 
 at Brad Simons, and gibbered in his face. "The sight 
 that sees sometimes don't tell, the heart that feels rings 
 its own knell!" intoned the crazy being weirdly. "Say," 
 cried the woman, in a further burst of disordered pas- 
 sion, "I saw a bird thet carried home a seed to its nest, 
 and the worm turned and stung it. ' ' 
 
 "Do move on, Rachel," urged Brad, who showed, 
 during this scene, a return to the nervousness which the 
 cattle raiser had manifested on the occasion of the visita- 
 tion of the woman in Farmer Braddock's yard, on the 
 day of the eclipse; "we are busy," said he, fretfully; 
 "now, move on!" 
 
 "Yes, yes," retorted the woman; "too busy for 
 justice. I know, I know. They say I'm mad, — well, 
 well, well ; and, some day I '11 not be mad, and then 
 they'll — but I'll go and find who did it, and when I 
 do," the woman looked about her vacantly, and sud- 
 denly seemed to realize the import of her first remarks, 
 which had led her to pause, in the beginning, and ad- 
 dress these assembled figures — 
 
 "Gentlemen," cried the woman wildly, "the hangin' 
 's over, — go home — go home — go home," and flitting 
 away from the group at the tavern, and on up the street 
 until out of sight, a wail, "go-o-o ho-o-ome," at last 
 came faintly borne, in the distance, to their ears. 
 
 "That person," said Brad Simons, breaking the 
 silence, "gives me the shivers." 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," observed Lawyer Grigscomb, 
 
368 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 pleasantly, and with the aplomb of a studied politician, 
 "I shall not direct you, in the dramatic and eerie fash- 
 ion of our late visitor, to 'go home,' but you -will all ad- 
 journ with me to my office, and talk over this new evi- 
 dence of Mr. Simons which, I dare say, will afford us 
 even greater scope, in detail. ' ' 
 
 While the party moved over the way to Grigscomb's 
 retired and unobtrusive law office, Bob Likkum came 
 out of the tavern where, with the matronly wife of the 
 keeper of the hotel, he had just seen Ann ]\Iariah, for the 
 time being, comfortably installed. 
 
 For a moment. Bob hesitated; and then, walking 
 briskly, overtook Uncle Peter. 
 
 Likkum drew Peter Braddock aside. 
 
 "Uncle Peter," remarked Bob Likkum, "you an' 
 John both is hev'in' all yer kin do tub meet expenses, 
 reckon ? ' ' 
 
 "Givin' us a right smart rassle. Bob," said the old 
 man, with something like a quiver in his voice. 
 
 "Peter," said the true hearted countryman, "ye 
 know I 've got a leetle laid up fur a rainy day — ' ' 
 
 "Robert, no, — I couldn't think uv a-layin' this here 
 onto you, — ^no, an', besides," said Uncle Peter, "maybe 
 we, John an' me, kin pull thro'." 
 
 "Ye know where ter find me," said Bob, to which 
 the stout-hearted old Indiana farmer nodded his head, 
 in token of a grateful appreciation, and quickly and 
 eagerly followed John's lawyer and the others into 
 Benjamin Grigscomb's place of business. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 DE HAS FRIENDS AT WORK. 
 
 Smoky Billings was looking after White's horse, in 
 Mrs. Walmsey's stable. His seaman's high and bowling 
 spirits had reached a climax expressed in the vocal 
 rendering of a lively and animated song setting forth 
 the virtues of a sailor's vdte, who watched in storm and 
 fair weather for the coming of "Jack at sea." Smoky 
 was at the height of his melodious achievement, when 
 Mrs. Walmsey's voice, accompanied by a sight of the 
 widow's plump figure at the door of her house, broke 
 in upon his musical accomplishment Anth, 
 
 "Mr. Saunders is at the gate — ^maybe, you could help 
 him 'light." 
 
 Job Saunders had ridden over that morning to put 
 his fate with the widow to the test. He had been 
 obliged to don, in lieu of better, the big, white, bell 
 crown beaver ; and he sat his horse, in presence of Smoky 
 and the lady of the house, with a solemn and judicial 
 air. He was cordially invited by Billings and the widow, 
 the last of whom had come for that purpose to the front 
 door, to dismount and enter the hospitable portals stand- 
 ing wide for his reception. 
 
 Just then, William White, in his rooms on the second 
 floor of Mrs. Walmsey's dwelling, put his head out of 
 the window, and seized the opportunity to gather news 
 from down the road and in the vicinity of town, from 
 which general locality Job, Wliite's intended source of 
 information, had but recently ridden. 
 
 369 
 
370 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Job," called White, "any news?" 
 
 "Billy," said the widow's swain with due gravity, 
 "that 'ere relation uv Peter Braddock's be still a-holdin' 
 his owTi." 
 
 "That's good," rejoined White. "How's John 
 Braddock?" 
 
 "Hear he be p'utty fair, but Tom Bolers 's a-gittin' 
 sick," said Saunders. 
 
 "Good and bad. Won't you come in?" asked White. 
 
 And, thereupon, with Mrs. Walmsey still prominent 
 in his fancy, it transpired in the confession of Job, 
 "that he didn't keer ef he did." 
 
 "By Jacks!" said Bob Likkum, a short time after 
 Ann's brother had dismounted, "it be a-goin' ter rain 
 cats, dogs and pitchforks," and the Likkum roan and 
 democrat drew up at the Widow Walmsey 's door, seem- 
 ingly, as fate would have it, at a seasonable though un- 
 expected time to put into execution Bob's protest to 
 Job's and "the widder's" contemplated folly. 
 
 Robert Likkum was no marplot, and it did not rest 
 in his previous knowledge that Job was taking this day 
 to force conclusions with the widow; but Bob had 
 political business with White, and entered the widow's 
 parlor unannounced. It must be remembered that Bob 
 Likkum was a longtime friend and confidential associate 
 of the Saunders family and, as has before been seen, 
 fearless if of a nature intrusive in the adjustment of 
 other people's affairs, where those affairs affected the 
 personal feelings of the Likkum heart or better nature. 
 He proceeded, at first in silence, to view with grave dis- 
 approval the sight of Job, with his arm unmistakably 
 around the widow's enticing and seductive waist. 
 
 "Is Mr. White to hum'?" asked Likkum in formal 
 and austere tones. 
 
 Bob had a pathetic picture very clearly outlined in 
 
DE HAS FRIENDS AT WORK. 371 
 
 his imagination of a sweet, brave, patient woman look- 
 ing up at him, and, with tears filling her true eyes, 
 saying, "Oh! Robert, I have to support us both," and 
 Bob, really, was in a pitiable state of doubt and uncer- 
 tainty as to what to do. 
 
 As Likkum entered the ^vidow's parlor, the arm of 
 Joe Saunders, — whose overgrown, white, bell crown 
 beaver, from a neighboring table, viewed with severe 
 and formal looks the events transpiring before it, — slow- 
 ly and clandestinely withdrew from the widow's form. 
 Job in an earnest and sincere effort to recover his com- 
 posure, much heated by extended amatory proceedings 
 antedating Bob's arrival, cleared his throat; while the 
 widow and the bell crown hat vied -with each other in 
 the assumption of looks of serious and weighty concern. 
 
 "Is Mr. White to hum'?" once more propounded 
 Robert. 
 
 "I think, Robert," said Mrs. Walmsey, after a mo- 
 ment's hesitation, "that you ^\ill find William in his 
 room. ' ' 
 
 With a keen while sorrowful gaze, Likkum eyed the 
 two lost beings sitting on the sofa, and ascended to 
 White's apartments. 
 
 Robert Likkum, William White's acknowledged con- 
 gressional manager, was in trouble. The convention, 
 which was expected to nominate their party candidate 
 for the congressional race, would soon convene. Likkum 
 had encountered a determined and unlooked for obstacle 
 to White 's success, and had hastened to White to consult 
 him. 
 
 "Billy," said Bob as, in the latter 's room, he came 
 upon White seated comfortably behind a cob pipe, 
 "Brad Simons hez that young feller, Claw-Hammer, — 
 that ain't his right name, but you know who I mean — • 
 wears that darn swaller tailed coat, ye know, evenin' 
 
372 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 meetin's, all the time— that 's the feller,— well, Brad's 
 got him in trainin' fer to beat ye fer yer own party's 
 nomynation. Did ye ever hear the like — huh?" Bob 
 Likkiim's manner showed signs of a divided interest — 
 his attention was certainly shared with William White, 
 in a high degree ; but his wandering thoughts were, like- 
 wise, down stairs, visiting with Job Saunders and the 
 widow. 
 
 ''Wliy, Likkum," in surprise, ejaculated the candi- 
 date, recognizing Bob's graphic and satisfactory de- 
 scription of a possible contestant for the choice of the 
 convention, and removing the pipe from his mouth, 
 "that man is one of our owti party. How can Brad 
 Simons do anything with him, I'd like to know! Wliat 
 do you mean, anyway ? ' ' 
 
 "Well, ye see, Claw-Hammer," and Bob thought 
 this name good enough to stand, — "he's 'lowed that 
 there cuss-ed crittur Simons to horn-swoggle 'im, some 
 way, into goin' in ag'in' you, an' I thought ye mout 
 keer ter know about it, that's all." 
 "You're sure?" 
 "Sart'in." 
 
 ' ' ]\Iuch obliged, of course, you know, for the informa- 
 tion, but — " 
 
 "I don't know, now, Billy; need'nt make any mis- 
 take. Might giv' trouble, — Brad might; ye can't tell, 
 nohow. He's slick, an' he's got lots o' money, an ain't 
 a-go'n' to spare none uv it, so I hears he says, in a-de- 
 featin' of you, at all p'ints. Better let me look into this 
 'ere matter fer you, soon 's I kin git uh good chanst. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Of course, of course, Likkum, — you must do as you 
 think best," returned William White, readily, and, at 
 once, yielding in what might have, othermse, proved a 
 grave and most serious political difference. 
 
DE HAS FRIENDS AT WORK. 373 
 
 "See Job 's dowii steers," observed Bob Likkum, 
 casually and impersonally. 
 
 ''Yes?" was "White's commonplace reply. 
 
 "Got a little business with him," explained the other, 
 thoughtfully stroking his chin, and with a peculiar glint 
 in the eye. "Excuse me, will you, please?" 
 
 "Certainly, Bob," replied the literary man. 
 
 "I'll 'tend to Brad Simons," Bob Likkum called 
 bacfc, as he started away bent on early judgment to Job 
 Saunders and Vfidow Walmsey, in their unconscious and 
 happy love making. 
 
 "So do, Likkum," answered "White agreeably and 
 seriously. 
 
 Ann Mariah's hurrying sweetheart was coming down 
 the stairs when the following words, unmistakably 
 adapted, by Job, from the marriage service of the Pro-> 
 testant Episcopal faith, met the ears of Likkum : 
 
 "Ef," Job was saying with unstudied eloquence, as 
 in some spirit of demonstration of all right to and prop- 
 erty in the widow, "they be any crittur," Mrs. Walm- 
 sey 's admirer added strengthening words of his own, 
 "w'at kin show cause why we two should not be 
 wedded — " 
 
 When Robert Likkum resolutely broke in upon the 
 astounded couple. 
 
 "At this p'int," asserted Bob, with quiet and be- 
 coming dignity, "they is one who not only kin show 
 cause, but kin prove that ye 're both erbout to commit 
 crime, murder, an' make everlastin' ijuts uv yerselves! 
 W'at," inquired Ann Mariah's partisan, with polite 
 sarcasm, and viewnng Saunders with undisguised con- 
 tempt, while Ann ]\Iariah's pleading and appealing face 
 rested in fancy before his eyes, "may a mere stranger, 
 w'at, of course, has never seen either uv ye two sens'ble 
 people afore, ask, are ye a-goin ' ter eat ? " 
 
374 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Why — why, — " blustered the lazy, shiftless, idle 
 creature, at the widow's side, 
 
 "Yes, I know," drily articulated Likkum in tones of 
 biting irony, "ye 're a-goin' ter eat 'whys.' Them's good 
 things ter eat. Ye 're a-goin'," pursued Bob addressing 
 Job remorselessly, and feeling vindicated in his own 
 moving recollection of Ann, — "ye 're a-goin' to soothe 
 that bu'sted heart o' yourn weth ideel bliss, 'thout 
 w'ich you an' ther widder, beggin' her pardin fur her 
 not a-knowin' no better, is a-goin' ter die uv blighted 
 lives. Ye must hev' the spurrin's an' the promp tin's of 
 thet deelishus time uv youth," (the widow and Job 
 were no longer young), "a-satisfied, w'en the feelin's — 
 I may say," added Job's relentless mentor coldly, "the 
 tender feelin's uv the young must plunge and revel in 
 the clear lake uv love. Arter w'ich ye 're goin' ter 
 sponge er starve. ' ' 
 
 Any other of independence equal to Job's worthless- 
 ness would have rebelled. Indolent, no account, Job, 
 likewise, knew his man and accepted, thus far, the fiat 
 but, nevertheless, feebly essayed his own defense. 
 
 "My father " spluttered the routed lover. 
 
 Robert Likkum, with difficulty, refrained from losing 
 his bodily unrightness under this last wild, desperate 
 and hopeless revival of the Saunders' family tradition 
 concerning the anticipated return of the senior Croesus 
 of the Saunders house. After a brief and fitting strug- 
 gle, however, he succeeded in stifling an almost uncon- 
 trollable outburst of the most intense and sardonic 
 merriment. 
 
 "Yer father's a-comin' home weth yer great expecta- 
 tions, eh?" after which remark, delivered in the briefest 
 and most withering satire, Bob Likkum concluded. 
 
 "I say," wound up Bob, really irresponsible with his 
 own heart torn by thoughts of Ann's life unrequited 
 
DE HAS FRIENDS AT WORK. 375 
 
 through this booby, on the sofa, by the side of Widow 
 Walmsey, and addressing Job and very calmly inserting 
 the last thrust of the knife under the fifth rib of the 
 paralyzed Saunders, "ask yer sister Ann Mariah's fur- 
 giveness, an ' go drown yerself in the Wabash. It 's go 'n ' 
 to be a freshet 'nuff, weth the rains a-comin', ter kiver 
 even a ass as big as yer air," and Mr. Likkum turned 
 him from that palsied double presence and went away, 
 having done good work. 
 
 It will not be long, now, when the sentimental and 
 unhappy suitor for the affections of the buxom widow 
 will receive his modest dismissal and, it is to be hoped, 
 a kinder fate at the hands of the present grateful and 
 appreciative author, whose task, at last, will have been 
 completed. Until that time, it is only desirable to say 
 that Job Saunders rose from the side of the object of his 
 untimely passion and, in becoming silence and the bell 
 crown beaver, passed out of the fair widow's temporarily 
 embarrassing presence. Love, it might be said, appear- 
 ed to coldly avert his face, as if the tender and poetic 
 little god and Mr. Job Saunders "never spoke, as they 
 passed by." Job departed for his home, and, there, in- 
 comprehensible as it may seem, flew immediately and 
 madly at the work of the small farm plot. His sister 
 Ann ]\Iariah, in great distress, thought her indolent and 
 shiftless brother had become suddenly and dangerously 
 ill; and viewed, with anxiously increasing alarm, his 
 volcanic actions before she was finally convinced of their 
 entire and bona fide sanity. After this. Job Saunders, 
 in a continuous and unbroken record of persistent and 
 effective industry, came to be regarded, by his simple 
 and trusting kinswoman, in the light of one of the seven 
 wonders of the world. 
 
 William White, left alone to his own thoughts, as a 
 result of Robert Likkum's revelations concerning Brad 
 
37fi THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Simons' newly hatched political chicanery affecting the 
 approaching convention, was far more disturbed and un- 
 easy than he had wished Bob Likkum to know. Brad 
 was getting up some shadows of his own. The dark and 
 lowering reflection of the cattleman was beginning, in 
 many ways, finally and threateningly to loom up against 
 the vital face of the future, in the varied affairs of 
 White's community interest, with a far deeper and more 
 significant meaning than the writer-politician cared to 
 confess to himself, much less to his anxious and faith- 
 ful friend and congressional manager, Robert Likkum. 
 Brad's present and latest manifestation of knavery, 
 representing the firebrand of concealed, treacherous and 
 desperate political cabal, therefore, was intensified, in 
 its present unobscured and deadly glare upon the unex- 
 plored and unknown waters of the writer's troubled way 
 ahead, by the ominous shape of the stealthy, silent cattle 
 dealer steadily developing, at this period, in power and 
 menace, day by day. 
 
 "Mr. White," said Smoky Billings, entering White's 
 room and smoothing his own face convulsed in recol- 
 lection of Bob's assault on Job, which he had just over- 
 heard, "I've been a-prospectin' some, as the feller says, 
 an' I b'lieve that you'd be interested, sir, to hear what 
 I've learned, out there," which final words Smoky in- 
 dicated, by a wave of his strong arm, to mean a general 
 direction that might lead to the farm of Brad Simons. 
 
 White, still seated ruminatively in his apartment, 
 sedately put aside his own meditations and addressed 
 himself gravely to Billings. 
 
 "Have you been over yonder?" questioned the 
 writer, in the atmosphere of tacit understanding existing 
 between the two upon the subject of Brad Simons' af- 
 fairs, and turning slowly in his chair until he faced the 
 lasteomer. 
 
DE HAS FRIENDS AT WORK. 377 
 
 "Yes, sir — that's it — I've been a-eruisin' over 
 there," said Smoky going to the door and seeing that it 
 was carefully closed, and then returning; "and I think 
 I 've took a reef in his sails. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," said White, quietly,— " what is it?" 
 
 "Well, sir, — as I tol' you, already, — I got acquainted 
 with this 'ere Rachel Bolers, 'at wanders around the 
 country, and got her frien'sliip along o' me knowin' of 
 feelin's she has ag'in' Brad Simons. I sees her fu'st, 
 as I tells you, w 'en I wuz with them there robbers. ' ' 
 
 Smoky had "smoked out," as the old country saying 
 has it, — which pardonably translated means found out, 
 — very little, as yet; or sufficient, in any sense, to war- 
 rant him, before this, in coming to his chief with in- 
 formation. It is, therefore, but fair to presume that the 
 rather skirmishing experience, which he now related for 
 the first time to his employer, was in the nature alone of 
 a reconnaissance. It was probably based upon the detec- 
 tive instincts of Smoky Billings sharpened by his inter- 
 view with Rachel Bolers in the haunted wood, when she 
 had urged him to see Mona Walker, Brad Simons' 
 housekeeper. The cunning of Simons, or the difficulty 
 experienced by Rachel in adjusting herself to a more 
 definite course of action in her prompting of Billings, 
 had thoroughly tested the powers of opportunity and 
 patience possessed by the sailor. He engaged White, at 
 this point, both with a sense of the delicacy of the 
 situation and its equal seriousness. 
 
 "Smoky," said White, "did you get into that cave, 
 before you left those fellows, that time you were with 
 the outlaws?" 
 
 "No, sir," replied Wliite's follower. "Ye see, I lit 
 out from 'em, afore they kum to the cave, w'en I seen 
 w'at they vraz doin', that night, to you, — though me not 
 knowin' you, then, and me a-hopin' to find some help, 
 
378 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 •w'ich I failed fur to do; an' I've tried, times, since to 
 find the secret entrance ; but, whiles I think I know 'bout 
 where 't is, I can't quite fetch it, somehow. 
 
 "At the time I was deceived into goin' in with them 
 there gang uv desperadoes," continued Billings, "I 
 learned, yo' see, somethin' 'bout their biz'ness, and 
 found out somep'n' in the affairs of Rachel — Rachel 
 Bolers. Now, sir, to return, as th' feller sez, to Mr. Si- 
 mons: Mrs. Bolers put me onto that 'ere gen'lman's 
 housekeeper; an'," went on the speaker, closing his eye 
 with the retrospective air of a connoisseur, — "an' she 
 may be said, sir, to be a pretty un' — a prettier un' and 
 a tidier craft," added Smoky, yielding, in a generous 
 burst of extra commendation, to a nautical illustration, 
 "I have hardly ever laid these here two bullseyes onto. 
 That hair o' hern is like the glory uv th' settin' sun — all 
 gold and burnin' ! Well, you see, sir," said the suscepti- 
 ble sailor, recovering from his fervent rhapsody, "I was 
 just passin' in that neighborhood, an' the feelings of 
 sociableness is so strong betA\dxt the gen'leman an' me, 
 that I thought I'd just stop by and look in, a moment. 
 It was rather late," went on Smoky Billings, "and I 
 calculated on the want of ettikette in droppin' in on a 
 mate fur a social call, at eleven o'clock in the evenin', 
 even if that mate does love anybuddy as much as he 
 loves me," Smoky grinned. "So I just kind o' hitched 
 my horse in the woods, and went around by the barn 
 where, on pri-or and pree-vious occasions, I have, as the 
 poet writer says, 'disported myself upon the haymow,* 
 overhearing of him and her talk. While standin','' 
 Smoky continued to relate to the deeply interested 
 White, "at the barn — it was dark — the moon not yet 
 risin' (rising) — I seen him step to a winder in the set- 
 tin' room, downstairs, in the full light of the lamp, the 
 winder curtain up. He turned back into the room, an' 
 
DE HAS FRIENDS AT WORK. 379 
 
 a female figur ', the housekeeper, come into the light, and 
 turned an' went back. I thought they seemed anxious 
 and a-conversin', this way, — a-movin' about the room, 
 keepin' time to their feelin's like, — so, I went over, an' 
 stood under the winder. There was a hole in a winder 
 pane," said Smoky Billings scratching his head, as he 
 recalled his society manners, "and I heard him sayin': 
 'Keep out of my way, Mona,' and I heard ]\Iona say, 
 'No, I won't.' An', ye see, Mona wuz the housekeeper, 
 who I know'd on'y by sight. 'Then,' says he, 'I'll fix 
 you.' 'Oh, wall you?' says Mona, sarcastic. 'Yes,' he 
 says. 'Wlien will you do it?' says Mona, — 'when you 
 marry me? — you've talked long 'nuff 'bout makin' me 
 yer \nfe to be doin' it, and now you've got to keep yer 
 word.' 'Oh!' says he. 'Yes, "oh!",' says Mona, quick 
 as lightning, 'I've got yer promise.' 'Well,' says he, 
 'you .can't prove it. Our agreement was took, when the 
 bank was robbed. ' 'You're a fiend,' says Mona. 'Thank 
 you,' says he." 
 
 When Smoky Billings had arrived at the above point 
 in the narrative of what he had been the witness and 
 auditor of as transpiring between Brad Simons and his 
 housekeeper, Slona Walker, White turned thoughtfully 
 to the window. 
 
 That which Smoky had just related, so far, tallied 
 with gossip; and, while it might undeniably point, to 
 say the least of it, to questionable doings of Brad Si- 
 mons, it had, that White could perceive, no determinate 
 bearing upon any unfair or underhand scheme in the 
 presecution of De, which, through Billings' investiga- 
 tions, and the divinations and suspicions of the literary 
 man, — and love is wonderfully wise, at times, — the latter 
 had become finally convinced Brad Simons was con- 
 -ducting. 
 
 Billings had been silently eying his friend and bene- 
 
380 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 factor; and, now, as if divining what was passing in 
 White's mind, he broke the silence, saying: 
 
 "That ain't all, cap'n." 
 
 The writer turned to the speaker. 
 
 "What more?" he asked. 
 
 "There's some mystery, some'eres, Mr. White," said 
 Billings; "and that woman, Rachel Bolers, is somehow 
 a-sailin' aroun' in it." 
 
 "Do you know, Smoky," rejoined White, "I've 
 thought, more than once, that Rachel Bolers put that 
 paper in Uncle Peter's harness room! I don't know 
 why I 've thought so, but I have. ' ' 
 
 "She putt it jes' thare," gravely returned Smoky, 
 solemnly wagging his head, covered with its shock of 
 coarse, dark hair, at William White. 
 
 "She put it there, then, did she!" exclaimed the 
 writer, who had been previously informed, by Billings, 
 of the discovery of the heretofore unexplained scrap of 
 writing, and who was pleased at this sudden and un- 
 looked for confirmation of his own surmise. 
 
 "She put it thare," assented William Wliite's com- 
 panion. "She put it thare, she tole me, sure 'nuff, as 
 a warnin ', in her own way, to ye all. An ' I tells ye, it 's 
 a queer cuss of a world, an' ye got to keep yer toplights 
 open; an' them there seemin' crazy people does queer 
 things, an' gits suddenly sane 's you er me; an' there's 
 method, sometimes, too, anyway, in the'r madness," said 
 Smoky, "as is like thet play what Shakespeare writ, 
 called Hamlet, and as is peculiar, see ? " 
 
 While Smoky's comments upon the mentally un- 
 sound and the poet's great play were sincere, Wliite 
 said nothing. 
 
 "Rachael Bolers was a-layin' around Simons' prem- 
 ises, that night, I pay him this 'ere sociable call, I tells. 
 you about," added Billings, in a tone which implicit he 
 
DE HAS FRIENDS AT WORK 381 
 
 threw in this piece of extra information for what it was 
 worth. 
 
 "Why, Smoky, you know she is kno\vn to wander, 
 at will, all over the country," replied White. 
 
 "Yes," said Smoky, "but, that night, I tells you 
 about, she was as sane as you er me." 
 
 This was a statement of fact of so distinctly surpris- 
 ing a character as to challenge even White's belief had 
 he not long since conceived the theory that Rachel was 
 playing a part. However, he met the assertion of seem- 
 ingly so impossible an occurrence with an expression of 
 astonished disbelief. 
 
 "But, I tell you," persisted Billings, "no doubt 
 about it — I talked with her. ' ' 
 
 "With Rachel Bolers?" queried De's old lover. 
 
 Smoky stubbornly nodded his head. 
 
 "And what did she have to say?" asked the other 
 appearing genuinely and completely nonplussed. 
 
 "She's got some grudge ag'in' that feller Simons," 
 rejoined Billings gazing intently into his companion's 
 eyes. 
 
 "Did you," eagerly questioned William Wliite pass- 
 ing over, for a moment, the strange mental conditions 
 governing IMrs. Bolers' sudden and unexpected recovery 
 of her senses, in the deeper interest in what she might 
 be capable of affording in the way of information to 
 assist the speaker in his perplexities with regard to the 
 scheming stock raiser, — "did you learn from her what 
 Simons is up to. Smoky?" 
 
 "Not altogether," said Smoky, "but I mean to see 
 his little old bluff and call it. She—" 
 
 "Rachel — ?" inquiringly interrupted the other's 
 employer. 
 
 'Rachel Bolers," acquiesced Smoky Billings quietly, 
 "is a-goin' to git at them robber devils fur me, an' fur 
 
382 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Mona, Brad Simons' p'utty housekeeper, ef she kin, an' 
 git that 'air marriage agreement w'at, it's p'utty sar- 
 t'in sure, they stole — 'at them outlaws stole frum the 
 bank. Mona wants it, an ' so do I. " 
 
 "That will do Mona good, no doubt; but how will 
 it help us. Smoky?" patiently asked William White, 
 
 "Well, Mr. White," candidly replied the man, "out- 
 side uv giner'ly bio win' Simons' ol' hulk out uv the 
 water, and jist nach'ly showin' uv 'im up fur a scoun'rel 
 in his relashuns weth Miss Mona, I ain 't sure ; but I got 
 a kind uv a presentymunt that it'll take a reef in 'is 
 sails, 'at he'll hev' trubble a-gittin' out uv 'em, w'en 'e 
 wants, ag'in, ter bowl afore the win', in any new er 
 present course uv evil ways." With this exhaustive 
 and satisfactory analysis of his position in the matter of 
 Brad's threatening and dubious craft, and with a pe- 
 culiarly impressive shake of the head. Smoky took a 
 mariner's unmeasured "chaw of tobacker," and rumi- 
 nated in the face of his beloved benefactor, 
 
 "I hope you may be right. Smoky, my man," said 
 White simply. "They're a daring lot," — the literary 
 man unconsciously included Simons with the other out- 
 laws, — "and we're going to have all we want to do to 
 circumvent them." 
 
 And Smoky agreed. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 ONE OF THEM LITERARY FELLERS THREATENS TO 
 
 ACHIEVE RENOWN. — A RESCUE IS EFFECTED FROM 
 
 THE RAGING WATERS OF THE FLOOD. 
 
 One evening, when "thro' the sycamores the candle 
 lights were gleaming," William White, who had sworn 
 to a friendship for De in whatever troubles, known or 
 unknown, that might hedge her about, went over to Peter 
 Braddock's farmhouse. He found the family of Farmer 
 Braddock unusually cheerful and, when he walked in 
 upon Mrs. Braddock and Uncle Peter and De, White 
 could not but feel a kind of reflection of their evident 
 high spirits. Even if De did not seem wholly happy, 
 her face, when the subject of the approaching trial of 
 her brother was broached, wore a look of confident an- 
 ticipation, which expressed something of decision and 
 content. Brad Simons had been effective in his efforts 
 and assurances in the matter of John's prospective 
 acquittal. Mother Braddock was in excellent spirits, 
 and the fat farmboy Esau, on whom some additional and 
 unaccountable exhilaration appeared to have descended, 
 joined the air of Mother Braddock's joy with appropri- 
 ate selections of song, joke and retort. The banjo, noted 
 once before as one of De's souvenirs of happier days 
 with William, was brought forth, and the strangely 
 exalted Esau proved himself eminently successful upon 
 the rollicking instrument and rendered some choice 
 selections of Wabash melodies. De, like\^^se, was, once 
 more, prevailed upon to fill the little parlor with the 
 musical trance of her o^^^l rich young voice. 
 
 383 
 
384 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 At length came White's turn and, in response to an 
 universal call upon the efforts of that literary artist, the 
 poet-author recited the following original verse: 
 
 "lost river." 
 
 To those who have closely followed the text of the narrative, or to 
 those having other satisfactory means of information, it may not be neces- 
 sary to say that Lost River, an actual stream in southern Indiana, the 
 scene of our present story, has no known source, and. in the course of its 
 wanderings on the earth, will disappear suddenly and unaccountably, and 
 afterward reappear in a manner quite as mysterious and unexplainable 
 as that surrounding Its birth; these wayward actions of its picturesque and 
 erratic life occurring with a baffling, curious though interesting fre- 
 quency.— Auth. 
 
 "Lost river ! seek your lonely way, 
 
 Through field and forest, hills and plain: 
 
 Striving forever thus to shrink 
 From sight and toil, in vain. 
 
 Our course is run, our journey sped, 
 In present sorrows — passing joys; 
 We may not flee the call of one, 
 Nor still the other's voice. 
 
 Fair, wand'ring stream, whence is your flow, 
 That softly leaves our fuller sight; 
 But fills with faith our eager souls, 
 In fancy's magic flight; 
 
 For, as with you, we disappear, 
 And, yet, unseen may not remain; 
 So they, that pass from shore to shore, 
 Shall sink to rise, again. 
 
 Whence come your deep, mute mystery; 
 Your quiet, cool, alluring thrall; 
 That sense of rest and still repose 
 Sent at our voiceless call ? 
 
 Your chanting waters, murm'ring groves 
 Are full of haunting shapes, and fraught 
 With gentle mem'ries, dear delights 
 That happiness has wrought: 
 
 Once more, your banks with spring are green, 
 And soft beneath my resting form; 
 While love, from out yon beck'ning glade, 
 Comes smiling in her charm. — 
 
RENOWN.— RESCUE. 385 
 
 As does the weary traveler, here, 
 Who has the blessed right to lose 
 The boist'i'ous world that roars afar, 
 And, by your marge, to muse, 
 
 So, silent river, steal away. 
 And leave the brawling day behind. 
 To find a hidden hour of rest. 
 In parts remote and kind." 
 
 The modest effort was gracefully applauded by the 
 simple gathering; and Esau, much to Mr. Braddock's 
 impatient displeasure, stated roundly that, 
 
 ' ' Them there sentyments wuz, ez it struck him, purty 
 nigh the nayborhood uv erbout the ke 'rect thing. ' ' 
 
 Uncle Peter, upon whom the effect of the poem had 
 been singularly and noticeably impressive, — and with a 
 sense of deep and unexpected gratification in the suc- 
 cess of the poet upon a theme of pleasing and especial 
 interest to the old man, — felt, in a prompting of jealous 
 monopoly of appreciation not uncommon, impelled to 
 turn his customary and, in this instance, unjustifiable 
 nagging upon the joyous Esau. 
 
 "Whut," in a somewhat petulant fashion, said the 
 Indiana farmer to the seemingly irrepressible boyj "do 
 ye know about it ? " 
 
 "I wnzn't a-doin' nothin','' said the unlucky Esau, 
 who took from no other what, after all, he was not 
 especially unhappy in taking from Uncle Peter. 
 
 "Then don't," sententiously, observed the "Wabash 
 tiller of the soil. "Them there verses o' youm, Will- 
 ium," remarked the same rustic critic, here turning his 
 attention to White, "is fine." Uncle Peter, upon being 
 lately reminded that public men, statesmen and politi- 
 cians wrote books, and various other things too numer- 
 ous to mention, had, as he thought, at last mastered the 
 purposes of literature, and proceeded. "That there 
 
386 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 po 'me ' yourn, Willium, ' ' continued Uncle Peter, while 
 he smoothed his captious visage, the result of his recent 
 passage with Esau, into a look of determined and grave 
 judgment, "orter send ye to congress, immejut." 
 
 With the humility characterizing the producer of a 
 cause for such vast and incredible advancement, White 
 hastened to disclaim merits so considerable and lofty, 
 but Uncle Peter would not listen to his denials. 
 
 "No, sir, I mean jes' v,hut I sez, " stoutly maintained 
 the old gentleman. ' ' Now, I want to tell ye, ' ' continued 
 the farmer, "what they do say down to Jacobs' Store," 
 mentioning the celebrated resort of the neighborhood 
 for the dispensation of universal gossip, political and 
 otherwise; "they do say to Jacobs' Store, 'at yer orter 
 perk up a bit, an' go in fur the honors uv the people to 
 Wash 'ton, fur sure." 
 
 In happy ignorance of the obstacles that had sprung 
 up in the way of William White's union with their 
 daughter, the good elders of the Braddock household had 
 about agreed upon the desirability of White as a possible 
 future son in law. 
 
 De had kept her own counsel, meeting, for the sake 
 of John, uncomplainingly' that which had been thrust 
 upon her, and going to her daily round of self denial and 
 duty with as cheerful and unstudied a sense of fortitude, 
 endurance and resignation as might be. Of course, it 
 was the destruction of her own life's hopes, a union with 
 this man Brad Simons, but the object, to her sense of 
 understanding, was too great — too dear, in her simple 
 and unaffected unselfishness and sincerity, for her to 
 hesitate, a moment, in the course to pursue. 
 
 It was all settled in her own mind — some day, she 
 might tell William all about it — the whys and the where- 
 fores — it might even, sometime, be her duty to do so — 
 but, now, her way was plain before her — silence and 
 
KENOWN.— RESCUE. 387 
 
 wait. So neither the mother nor the father, any more 
 than William White himself, was aware of the girl's act 
 of Spartan and sublime heroism. 
 
 As, with seeming unconstraint and old time enjoy- 
 ment to De and William, the evening wore on, the rain 
 renewed an unusually heavy downpour that, with little 
 intermission, had been continuing for several days. 
 
 "Th' bottoms," remarked the elder Braddock, re- 
 ferring to the lowlands lying along the river, " '11 be 
 purty nigh drownded out, ef this keeps up." 
 
 As the torrent came down, and the wind arose and 
 rattled and beat upon doors, and then whirled away 
 with the rain to burst in great splashes against the barn, 
 and the thunder broke in a deafening roar, and the 
 lightning rent and gashed the night. White recalled the 
 last he had seen of Smoky Billings. 
 
 That evening in the lull of the storm, just previously 
 to William White leaving the house of Widow Walm- 
 sey, Smoky had come to him and said that he wanted to 
 make "a social call." Smoky's friend very well knew 
 what was meant by this speech, but admitted no compre- 
 hension which might have led even Billings himself or 
 another to suppose it was understood that White 's ener- 
 getic and resolved man had a repetition of a visit to Si- 
 mons' place in view. 
 
 It now occurred to the writer to wonder if Smoky 
 had reached shelter from the fury of the tempest ? 
 
 ' ' I wouldn 't care for any harm to come to him ! ' ' 
 thought White to whom, as a matter of fact, the subject 
 of his reflections was no more affectionately attached, 
 than was the writer to Billings himself. 
 
 And where was Smoky? 
 
 As evening had come on apace, the heavy downpour 
 of rain had suspended sufficiently for William White to 
 walk, from his own boarding place at ilrs. Walmsey's 
 
388 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 about a mile away, up to Uncle Peter's place. Accord- 
 ingly, sufficient cessation in the storm had occurred to 
 warrant Smoky Billings in sallying forth upon special 
 business in hand ; although it is very doubtful, after he 
 had decided where lay the means to such important re- 
 sults as he had in mind, whether a sudden disposition 
 on the part of the heavens themselves to fall in would 
 have deterred him in his quest. Smoky, therefore, had 
 set forth from Widow Walmsey's, and was last seen, 
 that evening, by White, making progress down the road 
 in the direction of Simons' farm a few miles distant. 
 
 White's henchman, riding his chief's horse, pro- 
 ceeded until he came within easy reach of Brad Simons' 
 stables, when he dismounted and tied the animal in a 
 neighboring clump of trees. This accomplished, he stole 
 around to the barn Avhich loomed an object of shadowy 
 and vague proportions not far off in the night. It was 
 now the rain came on, and found the scout, at about 
 nine or ten o'clock, sheltering himself within the com- 
 fortable precincts of Simons' barn. 
 
 Smoky was serenely and meditatively listening to the 
 wind and rain beating upon the objects without. The 
 dark interior of the barn, v^herein the man had taken up 
 his temporary quarters, was occupied by no noises other 
 than those of the outside storm, with its fitful peals of 
 thunder attended by the blinding glare of lightning and 
 then, in the comparative hush, the stamp of a horse's 
 hoof; when there suddenly passed over the waiting 
 Billings something as nearly allied to the first, faint, 
 creeping tremors of fear as, with Smoky, was possible or 
 even agreeable. An involuntary impulse caused the 
 waiting man to sit up from a reclining attitude luxuri- 
 ously enjoyed upon a pile of empty sacks. There was 
 the "feel" of someone present, other than himself. He 
 listened intently. He could hear nothing but the storm. 
 
RENOWN.— RESCUE. 389 
 
 tho' his hearing seemed as sensible of that mysterious, 
 silent "something," as any other part of him. He put 
 out his hand, and instantly withdrew it — there ivas 
 something there ! Smoky Billings was no coward, but his 
 flesh crawled with an indefinable chill, and the geese, in 
 the neighboring barnyard, could not have displayed a 
 finer crop of "goose flesh," than the worthy spy. 
 
 "Who's there?" asked Billings in a husky whisper. 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 "Wonder," flashed through his brain, "if he's 
 dead," which remark referred to any unknown, and had 
 no special application to Brad Simons; although it 
 would, doubtless, have uncharitably filled various souls 
 with satisfaction, and amongst them even Smoky's own, 
 had such been the deceased identity of the subject of 
 Billings' wondering surmise. 
 
 Dead or living, the cause of Smoky's anxious con- 
 jectures kept the latter in a state of painful uncertainty 
 and suspense ; until Smoky, at last brushing aside his 
 unmanly scruples, struck one of his lucifers which, in 
 sailor habit, he carried in a water tight case about him, 
 and allowed its flare to illumine the scene. 
 
 "Well," muttered Billings, as the light of the match 
 died away and expired, leaving a spark of fire in the 
 charred wood, which suddenly, as if dipped in water, 
 disappeared in the thick gloom, "I'll be blamed!" 
 Smoky had recognized, by the quick flash of the match, 
 the slumbering form and features of Rachel Bolers. "I 
 might 've know'd it." 
 
 Billings gave himself but a moment's reflection and, 
 thrusting forth his arm a second time, gently roused the 
 slumberer. 
 
 "Hu-s-h-h!" warned the man, bending quickly and 
 closely over the awakened woman lest a surprised outcry 
 of alarm might, even in the commotion of the elements, 
 
390 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 be an imprudent result of this step; "belay, missis, — 
 it 's me — Smoky — Billings. ' ' 
 
 "Oh," the woman said, "it's you, is it?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' repeated Smoky. ' ' I f urgot all about ye, fur 
 a minute." 
 
 There was evidently an understanding which had 
 brought them, at the same time, to Simons' farm that 
 night. 
 
 "Can we git it, ye think?" asked Billings, in a mut- 
 tered Avhisper. 
 
 "If Brad's away, like Mona said, we kin," replied 
 the woman, in like tones of subdued utterance. 
 
 "Let's be at it, then," whispered Billings; and, de- 
 spite the inclement and threatening nature of the ele- 
 ments raging Avithout, these two singular partners in en- 
 terprise crept forth from the barn and to the house ; 
 and, while Billings stole to an adjacent window minus 
 a pane of glass, the woman Rachel Bolers remained un- 
 der partial shelter and protection of an outhouse close 
 to Simons' dwelling. 
 
 In a few moments, Billings returned to Rachel Bol- 
 ers' side. 
 
 "Simons 's away but the parson's there," said the 
 man, in a guarded voice. "Can't do nothin', with him 
 there, can we?" 
 
 At this instant, there was a lull in the storm, the 
 wind subsided to a mere breath, and the rain, for a 
 moment, ceased its torrents of descending water. The 
 sky, scarcely distinguishable in its vast and murky pall 
 of cloudland overhead, offered but a dim, boundless view 
 to the vision cast above to scan or search the density of 
 infinite space. Nearby, the roar of the swollen waters of 
 the river was heard, as they whirled on their way in a 
 sullen angry flood, yellow and turbid with the soil. In 
 the still moments of the storm's lull, man and woman 
 
RENOWN.— RESCUE. 391 
 
 standing beneath the shed were silent, as if with a 
 species of breathless and intent speculation upon their 
 next attempt, a condition similar to that of the sus- 
 pended functions of the tempest, when, out upon the 
 night, from the river, rang a wild cry of, 
 
 "Help!" 
 
 "Listen," exclaimed Billings, his seafaring instincts 
 alert, and laying his hand upon the arm of Rachel. 
 
 The cry was repeated — 
 
 "Help!" it rose and circled through the air about 
 them. 
 
 Smoky darted from the woman's side. 
 
 "I'll get the parson," he said, as he sprang away; 
 "fix the other with INIona, when we're gone," and, the 
 next moment, was at the door of Simons' house, beating 
 upon the door and calling loudl}^ 
 
 "In there! a man drowning in the river. Come 
 out." 
 
 There were sounds of hurrying footsteps within. 
 Simons' housekeeper Mona Walker, and Parson Woods, 
 both with looks of alarm, came hastening to the door. 
 
 Billings dragged Woods rapidly away towards the 
 river plunging by like horses running mad, and not far 
 from Brad Simons' very door, the cattleman's house 
 standing on an elevated piece of ground overlooking the 
 raging flood. Smoky paused a moment at the barn, en- 
 tered hastily, snatched up a lantern he knew to be there 
 and lit it. He next turned, with indescribable swiftness, 
 seized a coil of rope, ran out of the barn and rejoined 
 Parson Woods. 
 
 "Come along," Billings cried to Woods and leaping 
 forward was followed by the willing minister. 
 
 "Mate," called the onetime sailor, projecting his 
 powerful voice beyond to the swollen river, "we're com- 
 ing," and the next instant showed Smoky Billings, by 
 
392 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the light of the lantern swinging in his hand, the edge 
 of the great waters creeping in at his feet. The resolute 
 sailor perceived the faint dim outlines of a tree standing 
 firm and true in the struggling torrent, at a critical dis- 
 tance beyond in the risen tide of the river racing past, 
 and, in the tree's swaying branches lashing the wild 
 current, clung a man for dear life. 
 
 "Here, parson," cried Billings, and he ran along the 
 margin of the flood to a point further up the stream. 
 When he had gained a position above the trees, and so 
 that one, in the river, starting to swim out to the rescue, 
 would just reach the swirling branches, w^hen swept 
 down stream by the rush of current, he stopped. 
 Smoky's old seafaring life and training rose strong ^^^tll- 
 in him. The rope, ample in length, had, by rapid and 
 skilful manipulations of the nimble fingers of Parson 
 Woods' companion, already been attached firmly to 
 Smoky Billings' waist; and when the latter finally 
 turned to the minister, and, holding out an end of the 
 rope, said simply, 
 
 "Take a turn o' this here," the preacher knew what 
 the nervy fellow meant. 
 
 "Use care, Billings, and God be with you," was all 
 the parson said. 
 
 ' ' Amen, parson ! ' ' and the man sprang into the flood 
 sweeping by. 
 
 A moment later, two figures were dra\vn dripping, 
 but otherwise safe, from the turbulent and swollen 
 stream. 
 
 Parson Woods, in the light of the lantern held close 
 to the face of the rescued unkno^Ti, fell back as one 
 who had been smitten. 
 
 "Cy Saunders!" gasped the bewildered expounder 
 of the gospel, groping blindly among his paralyzed 
 faculties. 
 
RENOWN.— RESCUE. 393 
 
 It was true. 
 
 The river, Smoky Billings and Parson Woods had 
 mysteriously given back the senior Saunders to his long 
 expectant family and, to say the least of it, much sur- 
 prised friends. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE THRILLING AND SENSATIONAL RELIGIOUS SCRUPLES OP 
 DE BRADDOCK. 
 
 De Braddock, in all the wide world of affairs, was 
 not the only one to have to face, at one and the same 
 time, the duty to the unseen and the duty to them on 
 earth most beloved. By a word, she could save John. 
 Could she say that word, when it was not true? The 
 strain upon her now involved not only what natural 
 promptings to the truth she may have possessed, but 
 lier religious scruples as well. What could she do ! 
 Now she sat in her own little room ; in her obscure, mod- 
 est little country home: The Average piecing out the 
 sum of human existence. She looked at her small stock 
 of books on their simple shelf of home make. Did they 
 supply her with the sought for knowledge? The Bible 
 stood out prominently from the rest. Did it suggest 
 aught to relieve the aching breast of the tried and un- 
 happj'' woman? '^Whatsoev&r thou shalt bind on 
 earth," it kept saying to her, ^'the same shall he hound 
 in heaven; and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth the 
 same shall he loosed in heaven." In the days when these 
 things came to pass, she thought, the joy of humanity 
 and of the world was meant; and the saying was for 
 the happiness of all creation. When there came to 
 Jerusalem those that said they had seen the Son of 
 Man, and they marveled that heard, lo! ye, came He, 
 also, and, in the public places, raised up all hearts. 
 There was rejoicing and great gladness, for had not He, 
 
 394 
 
DE'S SCRUPLES. 395 
 
 that was to loose all evil, pain and suffering, come among 
 them. With a word she could create great joy. The 
 church refused to let her speak that word, although the 
 church was empowered by Christ to both hind and loose. 
 
 In the small country town of T , at this time, 
 
 there stood a simple Catholic church. Hidden away in 
 the solitude, silence and seeming sleepy inactivity of its 
 shrubbery-embowered retirement, the unassuming struc- 
 ture bore surely anything but an air of obtrusiveness. 
 A small paling fence surrounded the unostentatious 
 place of worship, keeping it, as it were, from the ap- 
 proach of the idle and the irreverent. It boasted a 
 diminutive and well kept lawn which, in summer, was 
 faithfully watered each day, by its methodical priest; 
 and was thriftily manured for the winter, when the fall 
 browned the leaves. It was an attractive spot, as nature 
 is attractive. A tree or two, with its other points of in- 
 terest, lent the prospect an air of symmetry and repose, 
 offering a glimpse of something refreshing in the midst 
 of the other striving and struggling pessimism of the 
 rural hamlet ; for, be it understood, there exists in no 
 place upon this mundane sphere any known spot where 
 the dry, grasping passion of daily greed and strife comes 
 not to plague and torture the inventor. 
 
 I believe in a Divine Law, in the ever-spirit, in all 
 things, and in him whom Voltaire admitted lived, and 
 was called Jesus Christ; I, likewise, believe in a far 
 broader interpretation of the Word, than has yet been! 
 — And I believe in Love and in Universal Redemption 
 and Salvation. 
 
 The religion of Christ, as functioned by the Catholic 
 — the Roman Catholic — faith, has drawn its stoutest de- 
 fenders from Irish soil. The historic old church, per- 
 haps, has, by them, been alone perpetuated to this day. 
 The rector of the little country house of religious cere- 
 
396 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 mony, described just before this, in truth was a mild 
 mannered Irishman, gentle, to all appearances, and 
 filled with mother w^t. He had, by the years he had at- 
 tentively and zealously presided over his parish, gained 
 from his simple and unpretentious flock and community 
 a degree of kindly, reverent and sympathetic regard. 
 True to the legends of the mother church, he was yet 
 known far and wide among the good people of the par- 
 ish and vicinity as declining always to unnecessarily 
 obtrude his clerical views, and was known as an un- 
 assuming gentleman who had been educated to his of- 
 fice, but who could be unfailingly a good fellow, an hon- 
 est fellow and an entertaining one. Father Patrick 
 'Gorman's hair was streaked with gray, and his years, 
 numbering a quarter of a century in his sacred calling, 
 added to the age of twenty-five when he assumed holy 
 orders, made him a half century in this world. His face 
 was that of an ascetic, — long, thin, smoothly shaven, 
 strongly featured. He was a tall man, in physical 
 stature, and of goodly bulk. A priest, he was little if any 
 acquainted with interests dominating aught save the 
 affairs of the church. A reported miracle alone stirred 
 his sublime enthusiasm; that is, if that miracle formu- 
 lated new reasons for the faithful. He pronounced the 
 musty jargon and data of an ancient time, with all the 
 unction and confidence of one convinced of its perfect 
 application to the existing conditions and needs of the 
 present. Thus he suggested a slightly antiquated flavor ; 
 and might have been agreeably likened to a clerical Sir 
 Roger de Coverly. He wanted us to think we had no 
 right to think except to think to the point of accepting 
 what he or the church thought. And here his amiability 
 was strained to the utmost, for he said we would go to 
 hell if we did not. There will exist a large number, be- 
 low, if this be true; and it may afford a proper place 
 
DE'S SCRUPLES. 397 
 
 for the suggestive introduction of Robert G. Ingersoll's 
 immortal view: "It were, of a surety, far happier and 
 better to abide anywhere with your friends and those 
 you love, than to strive unavailingly for paradise with- 
 out them." 
 
 And it may not be wholly irrelevant to add, at such 
 a point, that had we for two thousand years been per- 
 mitted, by religious rule, to exercise the marvelous pow- 
 ers of the intellect as sedulously as we have been pro- 
 hibited from thinking, we had known as much about the 
 fact and fate of the soul as we now know little. 
 
 "But, father, think! if I keep silent — think! — my 
 brother — what will become of him?" it was De Brad- 
 dock expostulating with Father 'Gorman, in the little 
 reception room of the rectory, in v/hich the priest and his 
 agonized and affrighted parishioner sat in earnest talk. 
 "My child," solemnly exhorted the holy father, 
 "your evidence, though it might undeniably save your 
 brother, would, nevertheless, be false under your sacred 
 oath taken on the Holy Book. 1 grieve for your brother, 
 but you must first think of your own soul." 
 
 ' ' Think of myself, when those I love are in danger — 
 in danger of life — in danger of — my God! cannot you 
 understand ? ' ' 
 
 "The church, daughter,— it is the church that calls 
 for your thought, before all else." 
 
 "And let my own blood go to — to," De shuddered, 
 "maybe, to the — the — gallows," she whispered, in scarce- 
 ly audible accents. 
 
 Brad Simons had not been idle, and had finally suc- 
 ceeded in filling the mind of the unsophisticated country 
 girl with terrors dreamed and undreamed of; until, ad- 
 mitting the strictly legal gravity of John Braddock's 
 real situation, his devoted and untiring sister had 
 
398 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 wrought herself into a frenzy of apprehension and fore- 
 boding 
 
 Patrick O'Gomian replied to his supplicant's de- 
 spairing protest and appeal : 
 
 "The church commands obedience. Eternal bliss 
 awaits those of the faithful who do her bidding; eternal 
 punishment those who do not." 
 
 "But he is innocent," persisted the young woman. 
 
 ' ' That may be ! it, at least, is natural for you to 
 think so — to say so; but you must not violate your oath 
 — you must tell the truth, in court or elsewhere. ' ' 
 
 "But I only secure justice — the law will execute an 
 innocent man, if I do not testify as I say." 
 
 "Even admitting such to be so, what is haman 
 respect, to divine voice?" said the priest. 
 
 "But mercy! my brother is guiltless, and were he 
 not, he is still my brother, — mercy!" cried the girl in 
 an accession of despair. 
 
 "Be it so ! mercy will be shov/n you, ' ' said the cleri- 
 cal coldly, ' ' but not here, ' ' — was the holy father right, — 
 would mercy not be shown her there ? ' ' Hereafter, when, 
 through your piety and holiness, you have found heaven, 
 you may hope for mercy." 
 
 "Wlien, through my own selfishness, I have seen 
 loved ones destroyed; when, in order to purchase my 
 own happiness, I have seen others go to perdition ; when 
 I have — such," broke off De, almost terrified at her 
 own boldness, but still struggling on, — "such as I Vv^ould 
 be, then, make up heaven's gathering — those who, with 
 the means of relief, turn from beings in distress! I — " 
 the revolt of the ages trembled on the young creature's 
 lips. 
 
 "You — you say this to me," exclaimed 'Gorman, 
 in an effort to check what he, otherwise, foresaw to be 
 
DE'S SCRUPLES. 399 
 
 a revolution, — "me, the chosen minister of the Gospel 
 of Christ!" 
 
 If she yielded, her brother was lost; if she ignored 
 the restraint placed upon her by the strong ban of the 
 church, she resisted its power in the teaching of her 
 youth to consign her soul to endless punishment. De 
 Braddock, for an instant, with her straining eyes, 
 searched the dark ecclesiastical visage fronting hers, in 
 a species of lingering and jiained perplexity that she 
 should, at last, find herself in final and hopeless issue 
 with the stern, unrelenting, uncompromising, and, now, 
 to her, unjust doctrine of lasting torment and the 
 authority of its hoary institution. It was, however, but 
 for a brief moment that she paused, surveying in its 
 representative the face of that fabric which, for cen- 
 turies of rise and fall, had subordinated, dominated and 
 overawed the consciousness of the earth. As the heathen 
 faith lashes and drives the conscience of the fanatic- 
 crazed mother, so that she casts the tender babe of her 
 bosom to the crocodile of the River Ganges to feed the 
 gluttonous and insatiable maw of the watery monster, 
 even so, in the arcana of the universe, was it with De. 
 The glances of priest and parishioner seemed to flash 
 like rapiers thrust in quick, darting encounter. 
 
 "I say it to you or to anyone," wdth a strange and 
 peaceful calm, replied De Braddock, "My brother 
 John is innocent, — his trial will prove it, — and, if he 
 were not, and I could save him by my testimony, whether 
 false or true, I would do it. The law of happiness, while 
 others pine and die, has no meaning for me. Punish- 
 ment never did other than increase evil deeds. Love, 
 alone, is perfection. JMy brother is loving and gentle. 
 You know him. His love — his devotion have led him, ' ' 
 continued the woman and sister, with a power of elo- 
 quence that both characterized and distinguished her, 
 
400 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "to this pass. You are blind to human life; you dwell 
 amidst the freezing, ghostly heiglits of divine, ambitious, 
 ehurchly rule. Your sympathies and sense of human 
 justice are cold and dead; your interests that of com- 
 manding ecclesiastical power. You forget that we no 
 longer require the strong arm of dictation, but are dying 
 and sorrowing for love — love without fear and without 
 cruelty. You deny us these things. The thought of all 
 time cries out against such heartlessness and injustice." 
 She ceased, was silent, her moment of inspiration gone 
 by. 
 
 "My child!" exclaimed the representative of the 
 church. 
 
 "Child! I am no child," cried De Braddock. 
 
 'Gorman's manner experienced an instantaneous 
 and striking change. 
 
 "Everlasting torment is Holy ]\Iother Church's de- 
 cree for heresy and sacrilege," he thundered. 
 
 De rose quietly, took a step and paused at the door. 
 
 "Justice," is all she said, in low, even tones, and 
 passed out of the presence of the priest. 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 TRIAL OP JOHN BRADDOCK. 
 
 The sudden return to sanity of Rachel Bolers, of 
 course, excited some interest in the neighborhood where 
 it was understood her loss of reason had been due to 
 her daughter's early misfortune. However, in the popu- 
 lar mind, well attested cases of a return to rationality 
 without previous indications of recovery, raised her 
 above suspicion. If she had been partially sane, — if 
 her own wildly picturesque conception that she was fate 
 had, in apparent blindness, moved her seemingly to take 
 advantage of the impunity with which the harmlessly ir- 
 responsible are sometimes permitted to go about, the 
 present assured restoration of all her normal powers was 
 no longer complicated, on her part, with even the sem- 
 blance of any irrational method, or purposed cunning of 
 deception in the community. Prior to the restoration of 
 her faculties, Nance's mother was supposed to occupy a 
 
 small cottage, in the country adjacent to T . Here, 
 
 with occasional visits to a charitable and kindly neighbor 
 woman, she had been thought to live after her reason 
 was broken by the shock following her daughter's mis- 
 fortune and distressing earlier experience. Nance had 
 always provided for her comfort, while unaware of her 
 unfortunate parent's unhappy and ciuestionable associa- 
 tions. 
 
 As Job Saunders had before informed William 
 "White, at the Widow Walmsey's, Tom Bolers was seri- 
 ously ill, in jail, pending his own arraignment, which 
 
 401 
 
402 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 was to follow that of his brother in law, for the murder 
 of Zeke Smithin. There was little hope entertained for 
 his recovery; and it looked as if Nance's brother might 
 go to the great beyond with such secrets as he possessed 
 irrecoverably locked in his mortal breast. Braddocl^'s 
 defense had about abandoned hope of further evidence, 
 in this direction, favorable to their client. Every effort 
 had been made to procure a confession from Bolers, 
 which, it was generally believed, would have liberally 
 contributed to clearing up the mystery surrounding 
 Zeke's end. Even now, John's friends had those sta- 
 tioned at Tom's place of confinement prepared, at the 
 moment of crisis, to take Tom Bolers' dying statement, 
 if the dying man could, or could be prevailed upon to, 
 give one. And so the hour of hazard for De's brother, 
 as well as Nance's, came on without postponement. 
 
 On the day of John Braddock's trial. Brad Simons 
 
 was among the earliest arrivals in T . As he passed 
 
 through the town, he nodded good naturedly to Bob 
 Likkum and others standing in chat beneath the long, 
 rambling, old fashioned balcony porch of the hotel ; and 
 paused, for a moment, under the great trees fronting 
 the country tavern. Rachel Bolers, with a quick, pre- 
 occupied air, came walking past. She saw Simons and, 
 in an abrupt sort of way, half halted as if to speak. 
 Simons perceived the action and with a grave and self 
 possessed manner of apparently considerate respect, 
 said, 
 
 "I am glad to see you about again, Rachel. I hear 
 you have been ailing some." 
 
 Without seeming to pay any attention to Brad's 
 remark, Rachel Bolers asked: 
 
 "Will John Braddoek be acquitted?" and then 
 added, not waiting for a reply: "It's said he will be." 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 403 
 
 "Why, yes, to speak frankly," returned Brad. *'I 
 think he will be." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad — certainly, mighty glad to hear 
 it, — nach'ly, — my da'ter's husband. I understand," 
 pursued Rachel, with abrupt bluntness, " 'at ye 're 
 makin' up to De Braddock." 
 
 "Now, now, Rachel," good humoredly remonstrated 
 Simons, "you must not believe everything you hear." 
 
 "But ye don't deny it," persisted the woman peering 
 curiously into Brad's face; "an' I see," she added, with 
 a peculiar laugh, " 's about true." 
 
 ' ' Well, ' ' said Simons, with an air of affected despair, 
 ' ' supposin ' I am — what then ? ' ' 
 
 "Be sure ye ketch yer fish afore ye fry 'em," was 
 the other's unexpected reply, with which she passed un- 
 moved on her way. 
 
 "What does the creature mean?" thought Simons, 
 wdth a sudden quick thrill of instinctive suspicion and 
 alarm. He stood looking after the woman's receding fig- 
 ure, long after she had departed, and, at last, turned on 
 his heel, muttering, "She knows too much, — has 
 Jump — ? Pshaw! — that marriage agreement with Mona 
 Walker: He, certainly, has not let the old rip have it." 
 
 *As was to be expected on the occasion of a case 
 involving such widespread interest, the courtroom was 
 crowded upon the arraignment of John Braddock, on 
 trial for the alleged murder of Ezekiel Smithin. Nance, 
 John's wife, with their child Nanny, was, of course, with 
 her husband; and Mother Braddock and Uncle Peter 
 occupied places of comfort and prominence by the side of 
 their son. De sat near Jolm, and William White was 
 
 ♦The trial case for the murder of Zeke Smtthin occupied several days. 
 The selection of the jury alone consumed much time. The present 
 abridged narrative of the singular and uncommon proceedings is interest- 
 ingly adapted, hy the author, to the requirements of literary art and natural 
 effect.— Ed. 
 
404 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 with her. Esau the Braddock farmboy, and Smoky Bill- 
 ings, the two having become great friends, together with 
 Parson "Woods and Bob Likkum, made conspicuous and 
 interested members of the throng of neighbors and 
 acquaintances present. Billings was observed to watch 
 "White closely. Smoky wore the aspect of being on the 
 lookout for sometliing to happen, — he appeared to 
 scarcely know just what. A crowd of miscellaneous 
 sightseers had been drawn to the courthouse from real 
 interest or passing curiosity. The sheriff was there to 
 preserve order; and his sympathetic and encouraging 
 hand had been the first to clap Uncle Peter on the back, 
 the action being accompanied by words of hope and 
 good cheer; and his smile of kindly support had early 
 supplied a token of encouragement to John Braddock. 
 Simons' heavy frame loomed portentiously near John's 
 lawyer; and the pale face of Jason Jump could be seen, 
 cold, set and rigid, in the midst of the general gathering. 
 Ann Mariah Saunders had come in town along \^dth 
 Bob, and sat beside Likkum and Parson Woods. Even 
 Mona Walker was there ; and Job Saunders, Widow 
 Walmsey and the only just returned Cy — Cy Saunders, 
 — he of the erstwhile supposed recreant desertion of the 
 roof tree of the Saunders' homestead, — squinted near- 
 sightedly and cheerfully from afar, in the background 
 of the commodious and crowded courtroom. 
 
 The trial was opened for the state by the prosecut- 
 ing attorney, who announced that this was a case in 
 which John Braddock, the prisoner at the bar, stood 
 charged with the murder of one Ezekiel Smithin, under 
 a true bill of indictment rendered by the grand jury; 
 that the prosecution was there to see justice in so flag- 
 rant a crime fairly and impartially administered, and 
 he hoped, to so praiseworthy and necessary an end, that, 
 as he did not doubt would be the case, he would have 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 405 
 
 the conscientious, careful and faithful co-operation of 
 the jury. 
 
 "The state, gentlemen of the jury," said the state's 
 attorney, leveling an expressive forefinger forcefully 
 at the twelve men, "will show that, prior to the death 
 of the deceased, the prisoner had threatened the life 
 of the former; that the defendant was animated by the 
 most powerful of all motives for the taking of life — 
 that of revenge. It is not in the province of the law, 
 gentlemen of the jury, to sympathize with, any more 
 than to denounce, those feelings which, it may be made 
 to appear by the advocate for the defense, either worth- 
 ily or otherwise might have inspired John Braddock to 
 respond to an impulse to slay one who had insulted, 
 maybe most odiously and even vilely insulted, a member 
 of the sacred precincts of home — one who, in fact, had 
 slurred the mother of his child, the wife of his bosom, — 
 nor will it be the province of the law to desire, nor of 
 the jury in this case to permit, mere idle sentimentality 
 to govern your deliberations — your verdict. It will be 
 the duty of each and every individual member of this 
 jury to solely and carefully concern himself with the 
 existence or the non-existence of a wanton and lawless 
 taking of human life, outside of the protection and the 
 rights which the law and the code give to all members 
 of society, alike, in the defense of their lives, their prop- 
 erty and natural obligations. The unwritten law of 
 sentimental justification often affords the most danger- 
 ous and violent safety for bloodthirsty and reckless 
 natures to kill, with but the heat of unreasoning anger 
 to spur them on. Beware allowdng the appeal to such 
 emotions, gentlemen of the jury, to influence you. It 
 may be all too easy to find yourselves, by an adroit and 
 telling address to your feelings aroused by descriptions 
 of outraged honor and decency, governed and swayed 
 
406 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 to an almost uncontrollable extent, — even finally caused, 
 in your finding, to acquit a vicious and unsafe criminal. 
 My own position, may it please the court and you gentle- 
 men, would be one of great and unfeigned regret, were 
 I permitted to recognize a personal element in the admin- 
 istration of justice. The defendant, in this case, we will 
 admit, has long held a place of trust and confidence 
 in your midst. He has grown up amongst those of this 
 community. In this section of the state, he is now a 
 prosperous, respected and well to do man of business. 
 He is an exemplary husband and a kind and affectionate 
 father, — a faithful and devoted son, brother and friend. 
 But, as much as it may appear, that is not enough, of 
 itself, to acquit him of crime. If he can be shown to 
 have taken, without legal justification, the life of a fel- 
 low creature, the law must take its course and you must 
 find him guilty. Gentlemen of the jury, I am here, 
 under solemn oath, with yourselves, to see that justice 
 and the law be properly, faithfully administered. I 
 could not, any more than yourselves, if I would, escape 
 the solemn and trying, I may say the even painful, duty 
 and responsibility under which this court, in all of its 
 parts and branches, rests to discharge its vital task of 
 obligation and of conscience. Should the law and the 
 evidence convict the prisoner at the bar, it will be incum- 
 bent upon you, gentlemen, to so make your verdict; 
 ■•^hould the law and the evidence acquit him, it will be 
 equally your duty to set him free. It remains for me to 
 further state that it will be shown, the prisoner, prior 
 to the killing of the deceased had been financially much 
 embarrassed, having been indebted in a large sum of 
 money which, following the death of Ezekiel Smitliin, 
 he at once paid and paid with bills which will be con- 
 clusively proven to liave belonged at the time of his 
 death, to the deceased in this case." 
 
! TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 407 
 
 When the prosecuting attorney had finished his open- 
 ing remarks, it was generally conceded that he had made 
 a strong and unbiased impression and a statement dis- 
 playing ability and force. 
 
 The state, deemed it suitable, at this point, to estab- 
 lish the corpus delicti, and the finding of the dead body 
 of Smithin was proven. It was shown that the body of 
 the dead man had, through causes as yet apparently un- 
 known, been discovered buried in a brush heap located in 
 ditch, by the roadside. The head had been crushed, 
 seemingly by contact with some blunt instrument. It 
 had been understood, and testimony to that effect was 
 produced, that the supposedly murdered man vras, at the 
 time of his death, returning home with a large sum of 
 money won at a neighboring gambling house. It was 
 developed that, when found, the body had presumptively 
 been stripped of all valuables. The prosecution then 
 called its star witness, Brad Simons, to the witness 
 Btand. 
 
 Brad's testimony was marked by reluctance. He was 
 manifestly ill at ease in the consciousness of De's pres- 
 ence and looked, as his utterances from time to time 
 seemed unusually severe on her brother, deprecatingly 
 in her direction. He first testified to his being present 
 at the time of the quarrel between Zeke Smithin and 
 John Braddock, when the latter had threatened Smith- 
 in 's life; and to overhearing the deadly and implacable 
 menace made use of by John Braddock. Upon being 
 questioned further by the prosecuting attorney, he testi- 
 fied to hearing others say that the prisoner had repeated 
 his threats in their presence following the quarrel with 
 Smithin. 
 
 This latter was objected to by the defense as being in 
 the nature of hearsay evidence and was withdrawn, by 
 the state, until later in the trial, when such repeated 
 
408 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 threats on John's part were established within the rules 
 of the court. 
 
 The prosecuting counsel now handed the witness a 
 slip of paper. 
 
 ** Please state whether or not you recognize that 
 paper," directed the lawyer. 
 
 "I do," answered the witness. 
 
 "What is it?" asked the prosecuting officer for the 
 state. 
 
 "A note of hand from John Braddock to myself," 
 replied Brad Simons. 
 
 "Has it been paid?" 
 
 "It has, — that is, it was taken up with the money, — 
 well, you see, with the money taken from Smithin; and 
 that money is in question," rejoined Brad, alive to the 
 prospect of losing the debt which the note under con- 
 sideration represented. 
 
 "Precisely; that is enough, we will come to that 
 later," said the attorney. "Now, you may be good 
 enough, Mr. Simons, to state for the benefit of the court 
 and the jury, the circumstances as to the payment of this 
 paper: How was the note paid?" 
 
 It was here that Brad Simons began to detail, at 
 length, the history of the settlement of John Braddock 's 
 debt to the stockman ; how the latter was surprised, that 
 the debtor should, after having only a short while before 
 appeared much embarrassed for ready money, suddenly 
 and unexpectedly ask to be allowed to take up his obliga- 
 tion. 
 
 "Your honor," exclaimed the counsel for the de- 
 fense, rising, "this is not right. We are not concerned, 
 in the laws of evidence prevailing in this cr any court, 
 with the witness's surprise nor his comments." 
 
 The court cautioned the witness to narrate those 
 events only which attended the actual payment of the 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 409 
 
 note, together with but such circumstances as might tend 
 to throw light upon the prisoner's alleged connection 
 with the crime for which he was being tried. 
 
 Simons, thereupon, continued and related how he had 
 discovered, on meeting the faro dealer of whom Zeke 
 had won, that a certain peculiarly marked bill was one 
 in which the dealer had paid Smithin the latter 's win- 
 nings. It was afterwards brought out, in the cross 
 examination, that Simons had deliberately sought the 
 gambler for the explicit purpose of identifying the 
 marked money. This circumstance, in view of the fact 
 that Brad had received the bill directly from John Brad- 
 dock, voicing suspicion of John did not have the effect 
 of increasing the favor in which the cattleman was held 
 by the sister of John Braddock. Brad Simons, then, 
 proceeded to say that upon this important revelation, 
 connected as it was with the fact that Zeke Smithin had 
 been found evidently murdered and robbed, he had been 
 prompted to speak of his discovery; and the prisoner's 
 arrest had followed. Again the attitude of Simons in 
 the case appealed most unpleasantly to De Braddock, 
 who followed with the utmost interest the stockman's 
 testimony. For the first time, De realized that Brad had 
 been the cause of John's arrest. 
 
 What Avith the irregularities vnth. which the evidence 
 of Brad Simons was given, owing to his extreme and 
 unquestionable desire to ayoid offense to De, and the 
 technical interruptions on the part of the lawyers, this 
 substantially closed Brad's part in the trial. He had 
 already been shown the marked bill and had identified it 
 as the one with which the younger Braddock had, in 
 part, paid his note. In effect and by the natural and 
 unavoidable as well as legal force of his recital, the 
 subtle trader willingly or otherwise had involved John 
 Braddock in a situation of apparent and serious danger, 
 
410 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 — one whicli, without the intervention of unseen aid, 
 would require, for the prisoner's rescue all the skill with 
 which Brad, together with others in the case, had 
 struggled to establish John Braddock's alibi. 
 
 There here followed, on the part of other witnesses 
 called for the state, strong eorroberative testimony to 
 the prisoner's hostile animus toward Zeke Smithin, as 
 shown in Brad Simons' preceding evidence. It ap- 
 peared, in fact, that John had been so incensed and an- 
 gered by Smithin 's conduct that he had expressed him- 
 self following Zeke's visit to his wife, with unaccus- 
 tomed freedom and bitterness ; denouncing the vagabond 
 in deadly and unmeasured terms and expressing, in un- 
 sparing language, his feelings on the subject of the com- 
 munity's attitude, in certain quarters, relating to his 
 wife Nance and their own singular and unusual mar- 
 riage. 
 
 A few minor and comparatively immaterial points 
 being covered, after this, by the state, the defense took 
 the case. 
 
 All this time, William White with an occasional look 
 in the direction of Smoky Billings and another in that 
 of Benjamin Grigscomb, John Braddock's lawyer, sat 
 silent and absorbed, following intently every varying 
 phase of the famous and critical trial. Now and then 
 he shifted uneasily in his chair, as if prompted by some 
 anxious, secret and unspoken anticipation. Still occupy- 
 ing a place in the crowd, and with a face as cold and 
 expressionless as unchiseled marble, was Jason Jump, 
 
 Benjamin Grigscomb, bald headed, forty years of age, 
 in the law passionless, rose for the defense. In his open- 
 ing he was brief. Mr. Grigscomb touched but little upon 
 those things said by the state's attorney; came, at once, 
 to what he esteemed the essential of his own position in 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 411 
 
 the interest of his client, the prisoner now on trial — an 
 <ilibi. 
 
 "The defense will show," proceeded the prisoner's 
 lawyer, in a plain and direct manner, "that, whatever 
 else may underlie the merits of my learned and able 
 brother's remarks (indicating the prosecuting attorney), 
 nothing of the state's contention bearing upon the al- 
 leged killing of Ezekiel Smithin by the hand of the de- 
 fendant, John Braddock, can have any weight with this 
 jury, as we will prove, beyond all doubt, that the pris- 
 oner at the bar was not present and could not have been 
 present at the scene of the alleged murder. We are not 
 trying John Braddock for robbery — the indictnieut 
 reads "murder." Unless, therefore, it can be proven 
 that the defendant had some collusion with the murderer 
 for robbery, I fail to see where the marked money, as 
 evidence, has legally any place in this trial. It proves 
 nothing, absolutely nothing, as to who killed Zeke 
 Smithin. We have no evidence to show that the accused 
 man could have inspired another to commit this murder 
 for any purpose, whatsoever, — indeed, the state makes 
 no attempt at any such a demonstration. You will be 
 told, at the right time, that the marked bill was given 
 Braddock in satisfaction of debt; and that he had no 
 knowledge, of any kind, of the original source from 
 whence it came. 
 
 "I repeat, my client is charged with murder. The 
 defense will show that he could not have committed or 
 been guilty of this murder, in any way. There the de- 
 fense rests. It is unnecessary for me to cordially in- 
 dorse the uncontested character of the defendant." 
 
 Mr. Grigscomb sat down rather abruptly ; and, by his 
 brevity, it was plain that the prosecution was taken by 
 surprise. De looked as if she didn't quite understand; 
 but remembering her many and vital conferences with 
 
412 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. ' 
 
 Brad Simons, and the part assigned herself in the pass- 
 ing tragedy, she was constrained to bide in patience till 
 further developments assisted in clearing up her way 
 of promised relief at the hands of her wily and un- 
 scrupulous suitor. So the trial dragged its weary length 
 along. 
 
 ''Call Ash Plummer," directed hawyer Grigscomb for 
 the defense, addressing himself to the proper court offi- 
 cial, and indicating his first witness. 
 
 Ash Plummer, a grizzled, old and honest-looking 
 farmer, his beardless face seamed and weather beaten, 
 came forward, 
 
 "Take the stand please," said Grigscomb. 
 
 The witness did so. 
 
 Brad Simons glanced furtively at De; the latter 
 leaned forward simultaneously with the witness taking 
 the stand, a look of anxious expectation on her face. 
 Brad had experienced great difficulty at best, in explain- 
 ing to the tried sister of John Braddock the legal char- 
 acter of his own attitude to her brother's trial. Now, 
 however, that the slow grinding of tlie machinery, which 
 the cattleman had assisted so singularly in setting in 
 motion, had begun he felt more at his plotting ease, and 
 serenely filled with a securer confidence in his ability to 
 possess the object of his crazed and desperate infatua- 
 tion, De Braddock, 
 
 "State your name to the court," said Benjamin 
 Grigscomb to his first witness. 
 
 "My name," said the old man on the stand, "is Ash 
 Plummer," 
 
 "Wliat is your occupation?" was the next question, 
 in form, 
 
 "Farmer," replied the witness. 
 
 "Where do you live, Mr, Plummer?" questioned 
 John Braddock 's lawyer. 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 413 
 
 "Nigh about a mile an' a half south uv town," 
 answered Plummer. 
 
 "Where were you on the night before the day on 
 which Mr. Smithin's dead body was found?" 
 
 "T' hum'." 
 
 "You were at home. How near is your home to the 
 spot on which the dead body of Sraithin was found, Mr. 
 Plummer?" inquired the leading lawyer for the defense, 
 after conferring in a low tone with a colleague who was 
 assisting in the case. 
 
 "Nayborhood uv seventy-five yard," was the wit- 
 ness's ready reply. 
 
 Grigscomb's legal associate, here, leaned over and 
 spoke gravely and privately to White, as a result of his 
 chief's recent consultation with himself. 
 
 William White and Smoky Billings had exerted 
 themselves, in every way in their power, to gain some 
 knowledge that might throw light on the meaning of the 
 outlaw leader's words spoken in the old mill, affecting 
 the Smithin case. Their efforts, notwithstanding, had 
 been fruitless. It was, now, in a last design to get the 
 evidence of White and Billings before the jury, for its 
 moral and general effect, that William White was seen 
 to be additionally interested with John's lawyers and 
 defense. 
 
 "Did anything unusual occur in your neighborhood, 
 on the night privous to the finding of the body of the 
 deceased?" was the next question Grigscomb put to 
 Plummer. 
 
 "Calk 'late that 'ere wtiz uhbout whut happened?" 
 sociably replied Ash. 
 
 ' ' Something unusual happened. Will you kindly tell 
 the jury what took place, on the night before the discov- 
 ery of this body occurred, in your neighborhood, — 
 
414 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 whether you heard any noise, in the road, as of violence 
 or the like being committed?" 
 
 "I object to the question as tending to lead the wit- 
 ness, ' ' interposed the prosecuting attorney. 
 
 "Please change the form of your question," consid- 
 erately directed the court, addressing itself to the law- 
 yer for the defense. 
 
 "Very well, your honor," replied Grigscomb affably. 
 'What occurred in your neighborhood, on the night be- 
 fore the finding of the body of the deceased?" inquired 
 the la^vj^er, once more speaking to the witness. 
 
 "I heerd, a leet'le north uv me, a hollerin', an' I 
 went out ter see what wuz the matter. When I git out 
 inter th' road the hollerin' 'd stopped, so I went on up 
 in th' pertikler d 'recti on where 't sounded, an' at fu'st 
 couldn't see nothin', 't all; but I looked clost and seen 
 signs where 't 'peared 'sif a lot uv scufflin' 'd gone on in 
 the road." 
 
 "Was this near the point where the body was 
 found?" inquired John's lawyer glancing at the jury, 
 most of whom were countrymen and farmers from the 
 neighboring lands. 
 
 ' ' Jes ' at the side uv the ditch where 'twas af 'erwards 
 got out, by the fellers, nex' day," replied Plummer 
 promptly. 
 
 "Wliat else did 3'ou see?" 
 
 "Didn't see nothin' else spechul jes' then, 'cept 'at 
 they vmz a bay horse a-standin' in th' road, an' it trotted 
 off w'en I kum up." 
 
 * ' Did you hear anything more ? ' ' 
 
 "Heerd another hoss a-gallopin' like all possessed 
 down the road." 
 
 Grigscomb suddenly beckoned White, who came 
 quickly over to the side of the lawyer. The latter, his 
 legal associate and the literary man appeared to consider 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 415 
 
 briefly for a moment ; then Grigscomb, with a composed 
 face, turned back to the waiting witness. White re- 
 turned to his accustomed seat by the side of De, followed 
 by the jealous, malevolent look of Brad Simons. 
 
 "You say, Mr. Plummer, you did not see anything 
 further, especially, just then. What else did you see, 
 later?" 
 
 "I seen some feller a-scratchin' off like the mischief 
 wuz after 'im — a-runnin', you un'erstan', off through 
 th'tiel's." 
 
 "Did you make any effort to stop him?" queried 
 Grigscomb. 
 
 "Hollered — did, I did, but he kep' a-goin'," 
 answered the witness. 
 
 "You did not catch up with the party who was seen 
 running ? ' ' 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Did you see the body of anyone who might have 
 been injured, or otherwise affected by assault, attack or 
 violence of any kind ? ' ' 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Plummer," further questioned the 
 lawyer for the defense, "did you have a light with 
 you?" 
 
 "Keeried a lantern," replied Plummer. 
 
 "Was the night very dark?" 
 
 "Couldn't see much wethout a lantern," returned 
 the old man. 
 
 "Did you see the body of Smithin?" asked the law- 
 yer. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Well, now, Mr. Plummer, suppose there had been 
 trouble somewhere, at some such a place as this point in 
 the road we are discussing; and suppose there had been 
 the form of a man left dead at that point ; and suppose 
 
416 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the circumstances of the finding, afterwards, of that 
 dead body were similar to those attending the discovery 
 of the body of the deceased in this case, what would 
 have prevented you in your position, and carrying a 
 lighted lantern, from seeing the body ? ' ' 
 
 Answering the lawyer's hypothetical question, the 
 witness said: 
 
 "A body placed same ez Smithin's wuz would uv 
 b'en hid by th' bresh, which somep'n' had throw 'd thuh 
 body inter, in ther ditch." 
 
 "So the brush would have hidden any object so de- 
 scribed from your notice?" 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What time did this disturbance, we have just been 
 speaking of, occur?" asked John's lawyer. 
 
 " 'T\\Tiz jes' 'leven o'clock," was the unhesitating 
 reply. 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 " ' 'At's whut th' clock to my house said, an' it's 
 mos' giner'ly right," replied the farmer. 
 
 "That wall be all, I believe, Mr. Plummer. I mean," 
 added John Braddoek's attorney in explanation, as he 
 perceived the witness hesitate, "that you can step 
 down, unless," and he turned to the prosecuting attor- 
 ney, "you wish to question him." 
 
 Upon cross examination it was plain that Ash Plum- 
 mer had sworn to the truth. 
 
 The next witness called by the defense was Doctor 
 Swathburn, old now, having attended De Braddoek's 
 first appearance in the world's trial of life. 
 
 The trusted and venerable old doctor plucked the 
 tangles out of his flowing white beard and viewed those 
 about him in the courtroom, with mild interest. To many 
 of them, as in the case of De, he had extended the intro- 
 ductory hand at birth. Like with the knowing and the 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 417 
 
 old, he had obtained somewhere an inkling of the way 
 things stood between John's sister and Brad Simons; al- 
 tliough unaware of anything suggesting the employment, 
 by them, of means outside of the written law for the suc- 
 cor of her brother. He fixed a kindly and discerning 
 gaze upon De's countenance of absorbed interest. 
 
 "Doctor," said Grigscomb, following upon the for- 
 malities of installing the witness, you examined the de- 
 ceased in this case, I believe, after the discovery of the 
 dead body was made, did you not ? ' ' 
 
 "I did," replied the physician. 
 
 "How soon after the body was found did you mjike 
 your examination, doctor?" 
 
 "Immediately." 
 
 "About wliat hour of the day was this?" 
 
 "Ten or eleven o'clock in the morning." 
 
 "How long, in your opinion had the man been 
 dead?" 
 
 "A number of hours." 
 
 * ' A number, eh ? Five or twelve — or 1 
 
 "Might have been twelve hours," replied Swathbum. 
 
 "Might have been?" queried the defense. 
 
 "Yes, sir, — all of that," repeated the doctor, posi- 
 tively. 
 
 Again Griscomb leaned over and conferred with his 
 colleague. 
 
 * ' That will be all, doctor, ' ' he then announced. 
 
 This was all the examination to which Dr. Swathbum 
 was put by the defense which had now established, by 
 the strongest possible inference, the time of the killing 
 to have been at eleven o'clock on the night prior to the 
 finding of Zeke Smithin's dead body; Ash Plummer's 
 evidence, together with that of Swathburn, strongly 
 tending to fix the occurrence of the catastrophe as hav- 
 ing transpired on the night before Zeke's body was 
 
418 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 found. It only remained for the defense to prove John 
 Braddock's whereabouts at a point other than at that of 
 the presumed murder. 
 
 The prosecution eliciting nothing of further interest, 
 from Doctor Swathburn, the old physician was dis- 
 missed. 
 
 There was a stir in the crowded courtroom when 
 Delia Braddock, the sister of the prisoner, was put on 
 the witness stand. Brad Simons had had his way. 
 "Someone must be found to testify to seeing John in 
 front of the hotel," where he claimed to have been on 
 the night of the murder. Someone had been found. She 
 was that "someone," although she had not seen him. 
 They had been unable to find anyone who had. Simons 
 had finally gained her confidence, showed her the way, 
 coaxed, cajoled, persuaded. She had yielded. And she 
 had placed herself, as she accepted her fate, forever in 
 his power. She was pale and composed, showing ap- 
 parently but the strain natural to one in her trying and 
 distressing position. 
 
 "Miss Braddock," said Grigscomb soothingly, "will 
 you please state to the jury where you were, on the night 
 preceding the morning on which the dead body of Ezek- 
 iel Smithin was found ? ' ' 
 
 "I spent the night here in town," was the response. 
 
 "You spent the night here in town. Will you tell 
 the jury, just in your own way, what happened during 
 that night 1 ' ' interrogated the lawyer kindly. 
 
 "My teacher — my old teacher Lliss Primvale was 
 very ill, and I had come into town from the farm to be 
 with her for the night. Along in the evening it became 
 apparent that she would need a fresh supply of medi- 
 cines, and I went to get it for her. I went to the drug 
 store and wakened Mr. Block, the proprietor, and he 
 came dov/n and let me in." 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 419 
 
 "Your honor," said the counsel for the state, rising 
 in his place, "I really regret interrupting the witness, 
 but it is my duty to ask what has all tliis to do with the 
 case?" 
 
 "May it please the court," rejoined Grigscomb 
 quickly on his feet, with the tips of his fingers resting 
 upon the table in front of him, "it is essential to show 
 the movements of Miss Braddock, on the night in ques- 
 tion, in order to make clear to the court and jury the 
 manner in which she saw her brother." 
 
 "The court will allow the witness to proceed," ruled 
 the bench. 
 
 "What time," said ]\Ir. Grigscomb returning to De, 
 "was it, Miss Braddock, when you reached the drug 
 store?" 
 
 "About half past ten, lacking a minute or two." 
 
 ■ • Are you positive ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, yes," responded De, with quiet assurance. 
 
 "How do you know?" asked the attorney for the 
 defense. 
 
 "The requirements of the sick room, in Miss Prim- 
 vale's case, made it necessary to note the time in order 
 to properly administer her medicine," replied the wit- 
 ness. 
 
 "What time was it when you left the store?" 
 
 "Nearly eleven." 
 
 "What did you do, when you left the store?" 
 
 "I started directly home, or rather to ]\Iiss Prim- 
 vale's." 
 
 "The roads are lonely," the assault upon De was yet 
 remembered; "had you no company for protection?" 
 asked counsel considerately. 
 
 "I was alone. Miss Primvale insisted upon my carry- 
 ing a weapon — a pistol, which she always keeps in her 
 house. ' ' 
 
420 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 * ' What did you do, after you started for the house of 
 Miss Primvale ? ' ' 
 
 De struggled, for a moment apparently with her feel- 
 ings. Would she break down? thought the lawyer. It 
 was evident to all that the nervous strain, under which 
 the young woman was laboring as the principle witness 
 for her brother's life, would make it a grave question 
 whether or not she could proceed. The truth is, up to 
 this point in her evidence in the trial De Braddock had 
 testified to only that which had actually transpired; it 
 was now necessary to swear she had seen John, at eleven 
 o'clock, in front of the hotel, which she had not done. 
 The girl became gradually more composed. She answered 
 the last question addressed to her, by the counsel for the 
 defense, and the trial came to its abrupt — its remarkable 
 and unexpected conclusion. 
 
 "I hastened to get back to Miss Primvale," went on 
 De; "and was just crossing the street and approaching 
 the Travers House, when I saw my brother John stand- 
 ing in front of the hotel.'* 
 
 — In her pure and exalted mood of self-sacrifice, love 
 and devotion it is really a grave and serious question 
 whether, under the spell of a strange, spiritual and hyp- 
 notic consciousness, De Braddock was not convinced that 
 she actually saw, — at the time of her testimony, had sub- 
 conscious knowledge of John's presence in front of the 
 hotel. — They say, such things are possible, and, for one, 
 I believe they are. At all events the weighty and im- 
 portant incident has been most faithfully given. 
 
 Tliere was a sudden commotion in the courtroom, and 
 a man from without was seen hurriedly making his way 
 through the crowded attendance The case was sus- 
 pended, for a moment, when the clerk of the court, after 
 a hasty and earnest explanation from the new arrival, 
 whispered something to the judge. The latter beckoned 
 
TRIAL OF JOHN BRADDOCK. 421 
 
 the attorneys for the defense and commonwealth to the 
 bench. There was a brief conference marked by deep at- 
 tention, on the part of counsel; and, turning to those 
 present, his honor announced that, in view of some new 
 and important developments, the court would take a re- 
 cess. 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 ACQUITTAL, 
 
 "What do ye hear?" questioned one countryman of 
 another, as the two, in from their farms, stood gawking 
 about the public square of T , at a late hour in the af- 
 ternoon of the day on which De's testimony had been 
 interrupted in so sudden and unlocked for a manner; 
 "any news? How's Hirara Braddock, Peter's Kaintucky 
 kin, a-gittin ' ? " 
 
 "Wy got right spry, now," replied the second 
 countryman. 
 
 "That so,— he'll git well, then?" returned the first 
 countryman. 
 
 "Yes, reckon," said the second countryman, and ac- 
 curately hit a pebble in the roadway with a stream of to- 
 bacco juice, shot with unerring nicety at the stone. 
 
 The chewer worked the contents of his jaws medita- 
 tively, for a moment, and spoke. 
 
 "Heerd about whut he said?" queried the second 
 countryman looking carefully around for another peb- 
 ble. 
 
 "Huh, — " interrogated the first countryman — 
 ' ' heerd, — what — who said ? ' ' 
 
 "Hiram," replied the second countryman. 
 
 ' ' Hain 't heerd nuthin ' — Hiram nur nobuddy 's said, 
 Hiram bin a-talkin'?" replied number one. 
 
 "Found out how he got hurted," said the second 
 countryman, 
 
 422 
 
ACQUITTAL. 423 
 
 "Wlio — how Hiram got hurted?" asked the first 
 countryman. 
 
 "Yep," indifferently rejoined the second country- 
 man. 
 
 "How?" asked the first countryman. 
 
 *' Hiram," replied number two, "jus' kum ter 'is 
 senses, an' tells 'at it wuz dark, an' him ridin' 'cross 
 kentry on biz'ness, an' Hiram, ackcerdental, rid' into 
 someun', which it wuz Zeke Smithin, on ther Wabash 
 Road, while Hiram wuz a-comin' frum the East Crossin' 
 inter thuh pike; an' they both went down; and, arter 
 that, Hiram, whose head wuz hurted, must 'a' wandered 
 around crazy-like." 
 
 "That 'ere night Zeke Smithin wnz kilt?" said the 
 first countryman. 
 
 "Same night," was the other's reply. 
 
 "An' Hiram wuz th' innercent cause o' Zeke's 
 death?" said countryman number one, with quick per- 
 ception. 
 
 "That's it," answered the second countryman. 
 
 Another silence followed, during which the leading 
 spirit in this curbstone trial found and plentifully be- 
 sprinkled several pebbles. After chewing for a spell of 
 thouglitful silence, the irrigator of the small stones about 
 once more observed : 
 
 "Did ye hear?" 
 
 "Hear what? dad bing it!" replied the first country- 
 man, with a show of some irritation. "Wat a feller ye 
 are, — hear w 'at — w 'y don 't ye say ? ' ' 
 
 The second countryman immovably spat and chewed 
 and said, 
 
 "Confessin of Tom Bolers, afore he died of that 'air 
 fever, in the jail." 
 
 "No," eagerly said the first countryman, forgetting 
 
424 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 his impatience of a moment before in this savory bit of 
 news,— "did he?" 
 
 ' ' Confess ? Yep ; an ' he sez somethin ' thet 'u 'd seem 
 ter go ter kerroberatin ' Hiram, an' he'p clear up the hull 
 thing: Tom, snookin' aroun', sez 'at he foun' Zeke," 
 continued the second countryman, "a-layin' dead, along 
 about midnight, an' simply tuk ther money off'n the 
 kurps," (it has been deterrnined that the rustic nar- 
 rator meant "corpse"), "an' — " 
 
 "Sa}^," said a third countryman, coming up at that 
 instant, "John Braddock's bin acquitted." 
 
 Zeke Smithin was thus decided to have been killed 
 by being violently throv.n from his horse as a result of 
 a collision, in the dark, with Hiram Braddock. 
 
 Tom Bolers, at the eleventh hour, had made a con- 
 fession before he died, which opportunely arrived to add 
 its convincing weight to John Braddock's triumph. 
 
 And so the case, with the shadows still pursuing, 
 passed into history. 
 
 There was a general buzz of satisfaction over the re- 
 sult; and John held a reception, shaking hands with 
 everj^body. De was happy, or, at least, she thought she 
 was. She had expected it. John was at liberty; and it 
 was destiny. Brad's claim upon her would have to be 
 met. It never occurred to her to qualify Simons' de- 
 mands by the unlocked for results of the trial. She had 
 expected to abide, in any event, by the consequences of 
 her sacrifice. Brad had shown her the way. Regrets 
 had no place for her; and she stifled them and put them 
 away, if they seemed to cry out for recognition. 
 
 But we warrant, there will be better and happier 
 days ; for here is Bob Likkum and Ann ]\Iariah, and, 
 wonder of wonders ! Job, with a hat of the latest block 
 upon his head, and the widow on his arm, and Likkum 
 not sajdng a word. And Bob is talking earnestly and 
 
ACQUITTAL. 425 
 
 confidentially with a grizzled, old, miner-looking fellow, 
 who has a squint of prime good nature in his eye, and 
 calling him Cy — and all understand that Cy Saunders 
 has come back; and has come back as rich as California 
 and all the other gold mines of the far west can make 
 him, although he did come near getting drowned in try- 
 ing to reach home through the storm, and surprise his 
 people ! 
 
 And backing up these cheering scenes is a square- 
 rigged vessel, by name of Smoky — Smoky Billings; and 
 another staunch craft, by name of White — William 
 White. 
 
 The scene is again in front of the country tavern. 
 
 White speaks to Simons. Simons returns the saluta- 
 tion. 
 
 Eachel Bolers approaches the two men, 
 
 "Ye 're onlucky, William," says the woman, of a 
 naturally strange and grotesque humor at best, and ad- 
 dressing White. "I hear 'at Brad '11 git De, after all," 
 and she laughs, oddly. 
 
 "Is that so, Rachel?" says William White pleasantly, 
 and glancing quizzically into Simons' face. 
 
 De has just left Uncle Peter, who remains nearby. 
 There is, on De's part, a native, trusting, childlike confi- 
 dence in William White, that, after all is said and done, 
 can never lose its being, and she pauses trustfully at 
 William's side. 
 
 At a lurking suggestion in the woman's tones, con- 
 veying an indefinable menace to himself. Brad Simons 
 gives a start. 
 
 "Who's been saying such things?" quickly says the 
 girl, her face coloring and clouding, as she darts a sharp 
 glance at Simons. De has breathed "such things" to no 
 living soul, herself, save to the brooding cattleman stand- 
 ing at her side. 
 
426 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ''First ketch yer fish, I sez, again, Brad," says 
 Rachel, innocently, and turning, with no other explana- 
 tion, away, ' ' afore ye fry 'em, ' ' and the woman, without 
 further remark, is gone. 
 
 "What did this continued suggestion of Rachel Bolers, 
 that there was something doubtful in his hold on De 
 Braddock, mean? in alarmed suspicion again thought 
 Brad Simons. With long knowledge of Rachel's secret 
 connection with the outlaws, and his ovm. information 
 concerning the bank-stolen marriage agreement which he 
 had made with Mona Walker, Simons' fears were thor- 
 oughly aroused by this reiteration, on the part of the 
 singular woman, of her warning. Should it be that there 
 was on foot a design to invalidate or prejudice to his de- 
 feat his intention to wed De Braddock, by, at the last 
 moment, springing his promise to marry his housekeeper 
 upon him, he saw, at once, they had him trapped — 
 trapped ! It must not be — it drove him Avild to think of 
 losing her. It must not be ! He must do something — 
 take instant steps to prevent the destruction of his plans, 
 his hopes. He could denounce the marriage agreement 
 as a forgery, — but, no, that might not succeed. 
 
 He turned to De. 
 
 "You," in his doubt and uncertainty, he was halting 
 in his usual confident, successful and overbearing ad- 
 dress to her defenses, thus giving her subsequently the 
 opportunity to unconsciously drive him hopelessly into 
 the meshes of his own toils : De 's ensuing manner was 
 not influenced by any realization of Simons' villainy, 
 whatever, — in fact, her best weapon was really her en-. 
 
 tire innocence of any wrong motives "You," 
 
 again began the temporarily baffled schemer endeavoring 
 to smile agreeably, — ' ' you are happy in your brother 's 
 release, Miss De. May," he more boldly and assertively 
 inquired, — "may I have the pleasure of private con- 
 
ACQUITTAL. 427 
 
 gratulations ? " it had reached the point with him of 
 settlement, at any cost, of his unpleasant and disturbing 
 doubts. 
 
 He had lost his sense and power of supreme mastery, 
 however, and De Braddock, given option, looked coldly 
 at the man. Uninspired by any purpose of breaking 
 wdth Brad ; but, still offended and deeply so in her sense 
 of maidenly delicacy at what she construed to be Simons' 
 betrayal of their sacred and sentimental understanding, 
 she replied, with studied coldness and meaning : 
 
 "Another time, Mr. Simons, and in better faith, I 
 shall hope to prove worthier of such kindness." 
 
 "But, De," impulsively and explosively broke in the 
 stockman when, none too well pleased in the company 
 of Simons at any time, De started with William White 
 to join her father. 
 
 Brad Simons felt instinctively that he was losing her. 
 Rage possessed him. He swore beneath his breath. He 
 impotently gnashed his teeth at thought of what, to his 
 excited and inflamed suspicions, was the certain con- 
 firmation of his worst apprehensions. 
 
 "I'll have her," he ground out in deadly earnest, 
 "if it takes life, farm and all." 
 
 Simons wheeled, as if seeking an instrument to carry 
 out his designs. The occupants of the courtroom were 
 scattering after the trial of Braddock had been con- 
 cluded, and Jason Jump stood not far off. The latter 
 revolutionary was just preparing to move away, when 
 Brad's roving glance perceived him. Simons had not 
 met Jump since the day in town, when the cattleman had 
 angrily withdrawn from the company of his sinister out- 
 law acquaintance. Brad Simons intercepted the out- 
 law. 
 
 "De," said William, as the two moved away together, 
 
428 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 leaving Simons alone, "I am forced to speak plainly: 
 Brad Simons is not a good man." 
 
 De was silent. She could not, for some reason con- 
 nected with an instinctive recognition of Simons' class, 
 utter a syllable in the defense of one to whom she had 
 tacitly pledged herself as the price of John's redemption 
 and release. 
 
 "I have, lately, learned enough," went on her com- 
 panion, in a grave voice, "without in the beginning 
 knowing aught of what you may have deemed best to 
 agree to with Simons, to think that you have been in- 
 duced to listen to some proposition from this man, in 
 your brother's case." She made a movement. "You 
 need not speak," said Wliite quickly, "but will you de- 
 lay committing yourself irrevocably," continued he, 
 "until, at least, you have heard further from me?" 
 
 And William Wliite could not, at the moment, bring 
 himself to tell her what the operations of Smoky Bill- 
 ings and himself had resulted in. He knew that the 
 character of the information he possessed against Simons 
 was such as no girl, occupying the position which De 
 occupied, could, for a moment, allow to pass unrebuked. 
 He had intended to take Peter Braddock and De's 
 mother into his confidence; but, by reasons of one and 
 another of the absorbing affairs of the past few days, 
 had, as yet, been prevented from doing so. 
 
 De was content to promise the respite asked; and 
 William, reassured, left her side; and, in a happier 
 frame of mind than he had enjoyed for many days, saw 
 her drive away homeward in the red wagon with her 
 father and mother. 
 
 "Jump," said Simons, nervously advancing upon the 
 leader of the desperadoes whom, but a moment before 
 the promise to William White which De had just given, 
 
ACQUITTAL. 429 
 
 Brad had accosted, "have you tliat marriage agreement, 
 still?" 
 
 "No," replied the robber. "It's disappeared. Don't 
 know how," and he looked curiously and intently at Si- 
 mons, while evidently wondering vainly what had so soon 
 changed the latter 's previous unfriendly disposition to- 
 wards himself. With a peculiar maliciousness he added : 
 "Gone; some of Rachel Bolers' crazy tantrums, reckon." 
 
 In this last shot, Jump, it is conjectured from sub- 
 sequent events, had tipped his shaft with a secret and 
 lasting appreciation he had conceived of Rachel's deadly 
 animus to Sim.ons — an appreciation obtained in his char- 
 acter of the outlaw chieftain — together with a shrewd 
 knowledge that the woman, in some w^ay possibly known 
 to himself alone, had obtained from the robbers possess- 
 ion of the document so disastrous to Simons' present 
 peace of mind. He, likewise, had no difficulty in sur- 
 mising that the use she would make of the paper would 
 be to thwart the cattleman's designs upon De Braddock, 
 if it were possibly in the power of Nance's implacable 
 mother to do so. Such a course would gratify his own 
 spite against Brad Simons for refusing to purchase the 
 implicating marriage agreement with Mona Walker 
 from the robber leader; and the same action, doubtless, 
 in the end, would be expected to protect Mona, whom 
 Jason Jump had informed Simons he meant to defend. 
 
 The desperate free-lance chieftain, however, had ex- 
 ploded a bomb which he could hardly have anticipated 
 would wreak such havoc in its fiery results. 
 
 It was the last straw on the back of Simons' af- 
 frighted moral camel. Rachel Bolers' repeated warn- 
 ings struck the base trickster and villain with full and 
 fatal force. His naturally furious and uncertain tem- 
 per was too much for him; and, remembering De's re- 
 cent studied coldness, he broke into a sudden fury of 
 
430 "THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 revilings and accusations of her too coarse or, in their all 
 but insane confusion, too wild and disordered to repeat ; 
 unbridled jealousy, now mounting to a frenzy, drove him 
 to hurl unspeakable epithets at the literary wooer of De, 
 vdth whom he had just seen the object of his insane de- 
 sires depart. 
 
 Jump, with the pale, chilled, expressionless face of a 
 gambler, in risks, at first listened, in silence, to his com- 
 panion's ungovernable ravings. 
 
 "What is it, Brad?" finally asked Jump, quietly 
 
 "If I thought," screamed the man rearing his 
 
 massive form and towering height above his now aroused 
 
 companion, as some monstrous and maddened wild 
 
 beast trapped in his native jungle might have done, 
 
 "that you had any hand in this " 
 
 "Brad, recollect yourself," said Jump, in a low, 
 warning tone, 
 
 ' ' They 've got it, I say, ' ' choked Simons, purple in the 
 face. 
 
 "You're crazy, — got what?" 
 
 "They're going to get her from me, after all!" 
 Jump 's companion was frothing at the mouth now, black 
 in the face — all but speechless. 
 
 "Brad, you've got to pull yourself together; then, if 
 
 I can help you " 
 
 "If, as you saj''," went on the laboring man grad- 
 ually resuming control of himself, "that marriage agree- 
 ment between Mona Walker and me has been secretly 
 taken, from what I hear it's got into the hands of my 
 enemies. They'll use it against me with De Braddock. 
 I am convinced that is what has given them their confi- 
 dence to brave me as they are doing. ' ' 
 
 "Well," coolly remarked the other, in order to fur- 
 ther quiet Simons, — for it had been already noted, by 
 the outlaw, that their unusual conference was attracting 
 
ACQUITTAL. 431 
 
 passing attention, — "what, in the name of the god of 
 Love, your little eupid boy, can I do ? " 
 
 "I have a plan — join me in it," cried Simons reck- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Now see here. Brad," diplomatically rejoined the 
 other, craftily gaining time, ' ' that, you know, depends on 
 what you're up to. 
 
 "We're in the same boat — you and I," retorted Brad 
 Simons doggedly. 
 
 "In a measure, that's true," admitted Jump. 
 
 "In a measure?" sneered Simons. 
 
 " In a measure — yes, ' ' returned the other man, coolly. 
 
 "Jason Jump, if I go down in this thing, you go 
 with me, if you refuse now to stand by me," and 
 Brad Simons' words were uttered with a cold blooded 
 deliberation that carried conviction. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" the outlaw leader 
 wasted no more time in skirmishing. 
 
 It was long that they wrangled and talked. They ad- 
 journed to a place of more privacy ; and continued their 
 discussion. Jump's fate was in Simons' hands. After a 
 stormy time, when it looked, at moments, as if the life 
 itself of the cattleman was in danger from the outlaw, 
 the leader of the freebooters at the last gave in. 
 
 Simons' climax of villainy had precipitated a condi- 
 tion of things such, as, in truth and tragic fate and 
 among the many and appallingly evil things which Ja- 
 son Jump had aimed at and been guilty of! offered es- 
 cape and survival for the outlaw chieftain, only at the 
 sacrifice of the remaining and cherished principle of the 
 wretched man's blasted and dishonored life — his poetic 
 and chivalrous refusal to "make war on women!" And 
 it had, at last, to be this with all the rest! — Well, it was 
 De Braddock's safety or his own, — so let it go — aye, 
 what else ! let it go. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 LOST. 
 
 "Father, De be lost!" 
 
 This startling exclamation was uttered by Mother 
 Braddock, who, with a very white and anxious face, con- 
 fronted Uncle Peter, when he came in, late in the after- 
 noon, from the field. 
 
 "Shucks, mother," said the old man, "the gal's not 
 a babby. What d'ye mean?" 
 
 Mother Braddock, who had, in common with the 
 rights of all parents, never come to view her offspring 
 in any other light than that of infancy, asserted anx- 
 iously, once more, 
 
 "Peter, I tell ye, the child be lost." 
 
 Peter Braddock, hereupon, paused and leveled his 
 gaze at Martha. "Marthy," he said quietly, "whut do 
 ye mean?" 
 
 Called upon to explain, the distressed woman said 
 their daughter, some hours before, had gone across fields 
 to a neighbor's to get the loan of a household article. 
 William White had called, in De's absence, and, as the 
 girl had not yet returned from her errand, Mrs. Brad- 
 dock had knowingly suggested that William walk over 
 alone and return with her. This, White had undertaken 
 to do. His old sweetheart had, then, been gone beyond 
 the time necessary to reach the farmhouse she had set 
 out for. William White soon came back to ^Mrs. Brad- 
 dock with the information that De had not been seen at 
 the house for which she had left home, nor had he been 
 able to learn anything concerning her. He, then, visited 
 
 432 
 
LOST. 433 
 
 the only other acquaintance likely to offer a tarrying 
 point of country gossip for the maid ; had learned noth- 
 ing of the missing girl, and again returned to her 
 mother to hear that the daughter was still unfound and 
 to begin to share a part of Mrs. Braddock's uneasiness. 
 White had, when Uncle Peter Braddock reached home, 
 been gone some time since he started upon a final search. 
 "What did it all mean?" was Martha Braddock's ap- 
 prehensive appeal to the old farmer. 
 
 "There, there, mother, don't git excited. Now, ye 
 know it'll be all right," said Uncle Peter in an attempt 
 to quiet his wife's natural and anxious apprehensions. 
 
 But when, as the evening wore on and it grew late, 
 no tidings came of De or William, Mr. Braddock too be- 
 came possessed of Martha's fears. He stirred the farm- 
 boy out, and, leaving him in charge with mother, went 
 himself among the neighbors and, with them, into the 
 surrounding country to seek for his missing daughter. 
 
 William White's living place, the Widow Walmsey's, 
 was stopped at, and Uncle Peter learned that the writer 
 had been there, directly after he left Uncle Peter's 
 house the last time; and taken Smoky Billings, and the 
 two had left Wliite's place together. Peter Braddock, 
 by this time nearly as much disturbed as INIother Brad- 
 dock herself, came back to his own home. Mrs. Brad- 
 dock, now vnld \^dth alarm, met him to say that no news 
 had been received of the lost girl. Quieting his wife as 
 well as possible, the old man at once distributed the 
 neighbors who had joined him, directing some over the 
 adjoining regions, and with his personal followers took 
 the portion of territory he had assigned to himself. The 
 hunt began. 
 
 The country, as Peter Braddock and Martha only 
 too well knew, was still infested with the most desperate 
 characters ; and it was with the most anxious and serious 
 
434 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 anticipations that Peter at last realized the vital nature 
 of his search. 
 
 When De Braddock started to go to the neighbor's 
 the sun was shining brightly, and the trees and fields 
 were gleaming with the jewel drops with which recent 
 rains had plentifully bedecked the woodland landscape. 
 Her way lay across a meadow; and, on surmounting a 
 fence, she found herself in a lane. The air was pure 
 and fresh, and, in her glad release from the thrall of 
 John's care, she inhaled the sweet and exhilarating scent 
 of the fields and woods with a keen and even joyous 
 sense of freedom. She moved briskly, throwing little 
 loving words to the cattle, calves, sheep and lambs 
 watching, with wide innocent eyes, the pretty damsel 
 go by. She was passing a piece of wood when a man, 
 whose face, where his broad black slouch hat left it 
 visible, was almost covered with a great black beard, 
 stepped from among the trees into the road directly in 
 her path. 
 
 "Pardon me, miss," he said, in a deep, bass voice, 
 "but, ez we're both goin' the same road, Ave might 's 
 well be sociable like. ' ' The speaker looked up and down 
 the narrow stretch between the fences, with a sv/eeping 
 glance. There was no one in sight. 
 
 Before she could cry out. Black Hank had caught her 
 firmly in his arms. A big, brawny hand was clapped 
 securely over her mouth, and without power of outcry 
 she was carried a helpless, struggling captive into the 
 wood. Her senses became affected by a powerful odor 
 from a cloth held, by her captor, against her mouth 
 and nostrils ; her struggles grew fainter, and she became 
 unconscious. 
 
 The first she realized, after this, was the sound of 
 running water; the swinging light of a lantern carried 
 by a surly ruffian ahead of her, and rough arms which 
 
LOST. 435 
 
 encircled and conveyed her surely along a narrow, rocky 
 path, in what seemed, to her newly awakened senses, 
 to be a large cavern. She could see to the right a 
 somber stream which lay, like a mysterious and deadly 
 basilisk, gleaming from many orbs of light reflected in 
 its dark and forbidding face from the lantern's dancing 
 rays; and whose murmurous and even languorous w^ash 
 and ebb had been the sound of flowing waters she had 
 heard. On the left was a wall of solid rock. 
 
 It became a slowly growing comfort to her, as they 
 proceeded, to gather, in some manner from the care 
 taken of her person, that no immediate harm to her 
 could be meditated. This brought, with its instinctive 
 feeling of at least temporary security, a corresponding 
 sensation of relief and confidence and, while she was 
 conscious of all that had passed, De Avas able, with 
 her natural courage, to reflect in a composed effort upon 
 the motives which might have moved these men to bring 
 her here. Before her and him who held her in his arms, 
 still walked the bearer of the lantern. She found her- 
 self feeling a curious and ^vondering interest in the 
 reflection of the unsteady light, in thousands of spark- 
 ling, gem-like rays from roof and walls and water. 
 Her captors turned from the path, which they had been 
 pursuing, into an extensive chamber hewn, as the girl 
 perceived, by the magical hand of nature in the solid 
 rock. She was carried across the width of the apart- 
 ment and deposited not rudely upon a coarse pallet of 
 straw, wath which the place was already provided. Up 
 to this time, the captive girl had not spoken. 
 
 "Here, Mother," exclaimed Black Hank, ''look after 
 the lady." Hank turned to Rachel Bolers, who sat on 
 a low stool near the pallet, gazing, with a peculiar in- 
 tentness, at the form reclining upon the straw. 
 
 "So you would do it, would ye," said the woman, 
 
436 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "though I told ye not to? You'll suffer for it— you'll 
 suffer for it, I tell ye." 
 
 The prisoner was, at first, unable to tell whether this 
 speech was addressed to herself or to the others in the 
 cavern. She lay watching Rachel Bolers whom she, of 
 course, knew, and was about to speak, when the leader 
 of the desperadoes ejaculated impatiently, 
 
 "Hold yer squeak, will ye, ye ol' fool, er ye '11 git 
 doused in th' drink out there," extending his arm an- 
 grily in the direction of the lonely and mysterious body 
 of water past which De had been brought. "Now, ye 
 shut up." 
 
 * ' I won 't shut up — you can 't make me shut up — you 
 can't — you can't — you can't!" screamed the woman, in 
 an apparently sudden and wholly uncontrollable parox- 
 ysm of spleen and rage, — "an' I tol' ye not to take the 
 gal." 
 
 "I can't, can't I?" grimly retorted Black Hank. 
 ' ' Here, you. Hen, take hold : when she gits in these tan- 
 trums, ye know she's got to be dealt with," and appeal- 
 ing to his follower for the necessary assistance to subdue 
 Rachel Bolers in a supposed return of one of her irre- 
 sponsible outbursts, the robber chieftain sprang upon 
 the offending female. 
 
 The girl, likewise, leaped from the straw, where she 
 lay. "You must not," she cried, endeavoring, by the 
 use of all the power she possessed, to prevent the assault 
 of the burly outlaw upon their female associate. 
 
 "See here, miss, we don't want any interference, er 
 we'll have to tie ye both up, together," grimly obsen^ed 
 the leader of the ruffians. 
 
 "Come, Hank," put in the now quiet voice of Rachel, 
 "let the gal be. I ain't meanin' to give ye no trouble." 
 
 The astonished look that Black Hank turned upon 
 the speaker, at this speech, brought a ringing laugh from 
 
LOST. 437 
 
 Rachel; and made even De smile, while the outlaw, 
 called Hen, grinned with evident relish. 
 
 "Hain't ye a-goin' to hev' one uv yer fits, Rachel?" 
 asked Hank, in a manner of such seemingly disap- 
 pointed expectation that again Rachel Bolers' laugh 
 rang through the cave. 
 
 "Not even to oblige you. Black Hank, with yer hand- 
 some face and big black beard," she shook her head 
 slightly at De, or the latter fancied she did, and reseated 
 herself upon the stool with an air of having closed the 
 incident. 
 
 "Ye must be a-gittin' better," muttered Hank, in 
 his confusion, "ez they sayed ye wuz." 
 
 Rachel Bolers seemed to pay no further attention to 
 the presences about her, than to reach out with a natural 
 gesture and draw the captive girl down upon the straw, 
 once more. 
 
 ' ' Poor gal ! " was all she said. 
 
 William White, accompanied by Smoky Billings 
 whose assistance he obtained when the writer had visited 
 the Widow Walmsey 's, set resolutely forth upon a search 
 for the missing girl. 
 
 "What, to Billings, with his previous familiarity 
 with the freebooters into whose company he had been 
 thrown on his first arrival in the state, wore the appear- 
 ance of a clue, soon presented itself. The two searchers 
 met a farmer who told them of having seen, earlier in 
 the day, a man of very suspicious actions lurking around 
 the neighborhood of Peter Braddock's farm. The infor- 
 mant described the man, and Smoky Billings at once 
 recognized the resemblance to Black Hank. He com- 
 municated his opinion to William Wliite, and the latter 
 confirming the likeness, the fearless tramp was the first 
 to advise resort to the region in which acquaintance with 
 the general locality haunted by the outcasts enabled 
 
438 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 him to suppose their cave to be. Ha\ang deserted the 
 band of outlaws before they reached the cavern, the night 
 they kidnaped White, Smoky had, on occasion when his 
 limited duties permitted, revisited the wild nook of 
 country, which the two now sought, and spent more 
 than one idle hour in a vain search for some method of 
 entrance into the robbers' den. 
 
 Night had fallen, when they reached the region of 
 their intended search, and, but for the light of the stars, 
 it would have been quite dark. The desolate air worn 
 by the surrounding landscape made it easy to under- 
 stand the objection, on the part of the country people, 
 to coming here, more than they could help. Held back 
 by the popular belief that the locality was haunted, and 
 by the terrorized subjection in wliich the freebooters 
 kept them, the country folk had, as yet, put forth but 
 little effort at unearthing the hiding place of the e\'il- 
 doers. Few, if any, could be found so daring as to keep 
 night watch in this infested region. It need, however, 
 hardly be said of Smoky Billings and William White 
 that circumstances had brought about their own pres- 
 ence on that questionable territory, at a time when all 
 the reputed or actual ghosts from the da\\Ti of being to 
 that day would not have weakened their intention of 
 rescuing De Braddock, if a captive in the hands of the 
 outlaws. 
 
 They took a prudent position concealed among the 
 trees and thickets, within view of a towering precipice 
 which Smoky Billings' feeling told him might be con- 
 nected with the robbers' cave. And here they waited. 
 The stars alone gave light, owls hooted and whippoor- 
 wills called, and now a bat would dart, zigzag, across the 
 face of the night — weird agents of nature to be employed 
 by the cunning in the atmosphere of superstitious dread 
 created to frighten the ignorant and timid soul. A slight 
 
LOST. 439 
 
 sound caught the listening ear of William White. Smoky 
 Billings had, also, heard it. They crouched in breathless 
 watchfulness. 
 
 ' ' Look there ! ' ' exclaimed Smoky, in a scarcely audi- 
 ble whisper. 
 
 White strained his eyes. He perceived, not far off, 
 a human head apparently slowly rising from the earth, 
 at the foot of the beetling crags, in the midst of a growth 
 of low bushes. Smoky laid a cautious and restraining 
 hand upon his employer's arm. 
 
 "Wait, Mr. White," whispered the man, drawing 
 from his pocket a huge navy six shooter, which he had 
 provided himself with since the attack upon White by 
 Simons' ruffians; — "I think, if necessary, I have a bit 
 of a persuader here, that ought to do some good." 
 
 White, who was himself well armed, here carefully 
 drew his own weapon. 
 
 The head in the bushes rose higher and higher until 
 the form of a man stood erect, shadowed against the cliff. 
 The apparition stooped and appeared to busy itself with 
 some arrangements to be completed at its feet. After a 
 moment the man stepped out of the clump of bushes, 
 hesitated and then started in the direction of the place 
 of concealment occupied by Smoky Billings and De's 
 lover. 
 
 "Now, sir, stand by," directed Smoky. 
 
 The man, in their sight, moved forward briskly, and, 
 unaware of their vicinity, was in the act of passing the 
 hidden watchers when Smoky Billings, taking no 
 chances, stepped out in front of him. 
 
 "Hands up," he commanded shortly, leveling his 
 revolver at the other's head. 
 
 The man's hands went up. 
 
 "Mr. White, sir," calmly observed the former 
 tramp, keeping his eyes fastened upon the surprised rob- 
 
440 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ber, "I thought I couldn't be mistaken. I remember 
 this man, as one of them desperadoes what I was with, 
 that night, they carried you off." The outlaw gave a 
 perceptible start. "Will you please, sir, look after his 
 weepons ? ' ' 
 
 "So you're that sneakin', traitor, tramp-sailor we 
 saved frum starvin', are you?" said Billings' prisoner, 
 with a fierce oath, at the same instant in a quick move- 
 ment, making an attempt to reach a weapon of his own. 
 
 There was a flash in the half darkness of the night, 
 and Hen, Black Hank's first lieutenant, fell dead with a 
 bullet through his brain. 
 
 "Sorry," said Billings as he bent above the fallen 
 outlaw, holding his smoking navy in his hand, "but it 
 had to be done. What's this, sir?" Smoky Billings 
 picked off the ground, where it had fallen from the 
 nerveless grasp of the dead robber, a small white hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 The two men examined it. With the help of a match 
 they made out De Braddock's initials in one corner. 
 
 "We must get into that cave," said White, his face 
 pale, tense and set. 
 
 The writer and the ex-tramp at once proceeded to the 
 spot where they had first seen the outlaw, as he had risen 
 from the earth and bushes. The arrangement was simple 
 enough, but so cunningly contrived that those most 
 familiar with the locality would have found it difficult 
 to discover, without assistance, the cave's entrance. 
 Cautiously testing the ground among the bushes it was 
 easily discovered that the apparently solid earth gave 
 back a hollow sound. Dirt, stone and dead brush re- 
 moved, disclosed a trap made of common wood. This 
 lifted, a short flight of steps led them, through an ample 
 doorway in the underbase of the cliff, into a dark and 
 dank subterranean passage. 
 
LOST. 441 
 
 A lantern stood just within the entrance to the 
 cavern, and as a match flared in Smoky's fingers the 
 means of additional light was found. 
 
 "I have been here, before," said De's lover; and, as 
 they proceeded stealthily on their way into the earth, 
 he, once more, related to Smoky Billings his own ex- 
 perience with the outlaws. The sparkling walls and 
 ceilings flashed into Billings' eyes, as he listened again 
 to the story of his friend and benefactor, and the rain- 
 bow hues of limpid light seemed to form a bow of 
 promise for the morrow of their trials to the former 
 rover of the deep. 
 
 "A rainbow, in the morning, is a sailors warning; 
 A rainbow, at night, is a sailor's delight." 
 
 White retained a fair idea of the locality after, 
 when formerly a prisoner in the hands of the outlaws, 
 the cloth had been removed from his eyes and he had 
 found himself, by lantern light, in the underground 
 way; and, exercising great care, they were not long in 
 arriving at the chamber in which the writer had once 
 seen the recumbent form of the disordered Rachel Bol- 
 ers, resting upon the pallet of straw. A flood of light 
 streamed out through the lofty, arched doorway and fell 
 across their path. 
 
 "Is that you. Hen," called a deep, rough voice, the 
 caller, wdthin the cavernous chamber, unseen by Wliite 
 or Billings, as the intruders' footsteps sounded in their 
 approach to the apartment, — "what fetches yo' back so 
 soon?" 
 
 But Hen was nevermore in present earthly flesh to 
 answer call of chief or outlawed act. 
 
 Directing Smoky, in a low whisper, to place the lan- 
 tern where the obscured rays would leave their persons 
 in the shadow, William White peered intently and 
 cautiously around the edge of the rocky portal. The 
 
442 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 place had been brilliantly illuminated — the lamps, re- 
 membered by White, about the walls, with their now 
 dazzling reflectors almost blinding his dusk-accustomed 
 eyes. He perceived, at the farther side of the room, 
 three figures, — one, sitting, was that of Rachel Bolers; 
 another, the writer saw, was the captain of the outlaws, 
 who was gazing, erect, in the direction whence the sounds 
 had come. There was a form lying upon the bed of 
 straw recalled by White, the form of a woman — De 
 Braddock. 
 
 The silence that followed upon the outlaw chieftain's 
 exclamation excited the alarm of Black Hank. He took 
 ' a step forward. 
 
 ''Why, the hell!" he shouted; "don't you answer?" 
 
 "Smoky," hurriedly whispered White, "there are 
 only those we see, in all likelihood. Come on." 
 
 They dashed into the glittering place, where the 
 magical burst of splendor and illumination arranged, as 
 a possible courtesy to De, by Black Hank, during his 
 period of waiting for the return of his lieutenant, now 
 shed, from wall and roof of the rebel's home, showers of 
 dazzling red, blue and violet rays. With a horrible and 
 blood-curdling oath, the outlaw chieftain fired at his 
 swiftly racing foes, invading, for the first time, the se- 
 curity of his lair. The report of his weapon crashed in 
 a deafening explosion against the confines of the caverns 
 and growled and thundered out in the mysterious reg- 
 ions of the hidden stream, echoing, in hollow repetitions, 
 like the threatening sounds, flurry and din of victorious 
 and besieging forces. Surprised and awed by the seem- 
 ingly incredible discovery of his den the outlaw's aim 
 had been uncertain, and, with the practice of the soldier, 
 White returned the enemy's fire. Black Hank sank to 
 the floor of the cavern, with a groan, mortally wounded. 
 De screamed wildly, as she rose from the couch on which 
 
LOST. 443 
 
 she had been lying, and Rachel Bolers up started, like a 
 sybil, to her feet. Specter-like she shrieked at the fallen 
 outlaw chieftain. 
 
 "I told ye — I told ye, ye'd be sorry — ye'd suffer for 
 it. I told ye, ' ' and, with eyes strained and staring at the 
 prostrate form of the outcast, remained upright where 
 she was. 
 
 "William!" was De's low exclamation, and De, for 
 once, was resting upon the breast of William White. 
 
 Billings, silently examining the wounded leader of 
 the outlaws, here spoke up. 
 
 "You've finished him, I reckon, Mr. White," he ob- 
 served, quietly. Even as he looked, the outlaw leader 
 gasped and expired. 
 
 This broke the tension of the moment. De modestly 
 withdrew from White's embrace. Rachel Bolers was at 
 the side of the fallen chieftain. 
 
 "Dead, dead," she wailed. "Hank, Hank, dearie, — 
 an' he said he'd come back and ha'nt me. — But, no mat- 
 ter," she cried in almost the words the dead robber had 
 used to White, on a former occasion, concerning herself, 
 in that now very chamber of death, — "no matter what 
 he was, or wasn't, he was brave an' true to them as 
 served 'im." 
 
 "Come, come, now, Rachel, do, — come, now," said 
 Smoky Billings not unkindly to her, while he took her 
 by the arm in a manner of friendliness and previous 
 acquaintance; — "I s'pose it's hard on you, an' all that, 
 missis, — but," and Smoky cleared his throat, — "what 
 shall we do, Mr. White ? " he said breaking off abruptly, 
 and turning to White. ' ' We got to git out o ' here. ' ' He 
 turned back to the grieving woman, "Some other time 
 f er grievin ', Rachel. Ye kin kum back in here to 'im, ' ' 
 he added compassionately. "We can't bury 'im, now, — 
 
444 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the coroner '11 have to see 'im fu'st," he said, again turn- 
 ing to White. 
 
 "Ye — no, no, — ye — ye musn't leave 'im here, all 
 alone," and, testifying to the strength of some former 
 unknown affection and cause of loyalty, the anguished 
 woman threw^ herself upon the body of the dead, as if 
 to hold it from desertion. 
 
 A secret thrill of awe, if not of reverence and respect, 
 went through those assembled about the rough, wild 
 scene. But Smoky Billings, once more, spoke up out of 
 the silence broken only by Rachel's moans. 
 
 "Mr. White," he said, "they'll be over anxious 
 'bout Miss De. I'm sorry fur all this, — it can't be 
 helped, sir, though, by paining of the livin' onnecessa- 
 rily. Come — come, Rachel ! — I think, sir, we ought to 
 be a-goin'." 
 
 De had been deeply moved, by the tragic and unre- 
 strained sorrow of Rachel Bolers; but, realizing the oc- 
 casion of as speedily as possible quieting the doubts and 
 fears of her own anxious parents, she turned, A^ith an 
 effort, from the painful sight before her, and said, with 
 a sudden movement of the hand to her throat, 
 
 "Wait, — the locket, William, with your picture in 
 it: I have lost it," and the girl went hastily to search 
 the pallet of straw on which she had been lying. 
 
 The woman bending above the dead outlaw, swiftly, 
 and with an alert movement as of an animal whose in- 
 stinct had scented danger, raised her head. 
 
 "My God!" she cried; "the river 's risin'. " 
 
 White sprang to the door of the cave. It was as 
 Rachel said. 
 
 "What shall we do?" he ejaculated, in alarmed ap- 
 prehension. 
 
 The water, from some unknown cause, had e%ddently 
 risen in the subterranean stream without, and had al- 
 
LOST. 445 
 
 ready begun to enter the chamber and overflow the level 
 of the rocky floor. The path, precarious, uncertain and 
 dangerous at best, by which they had come, was com- 
 pletely covered, to a depth in places, and for a distance, 
 covering gaps and fissures, now making it a matter of 
 utter impossibility to return, without Rachel could help 
 them to get back to the main entrance to the caverns. 
 
 "It can't be done — it can't be done," gasped the 
 terror-stricken female associate of the freebooters, run- 
 ning up to William "White. "You can't get through, 
 that way. And the other way's not open, yet. Don't try 
 it that way, Mr. White, — don't try it that way," cried 
 the woman earnestly; "the current's like a millrace — 
 you mustn't," she seemed possessed of the conviction 
 that the writer was ready at once to dash into the out- 
 side reaches of the water, now collecting about their feet 
 and, without guidance, plunge into the unknown terrors 
 beyond. 
 
 It was only this that Rachel w^as saying, however, 
 that White wished to know. With a cold impulse of 
 despair, he turned back into the cavern. De, pale and 
 calm, was at his elbow. 
 
 "Is there any hope?" she whispered between her 
 white lips. 
 
 "Yes, yes, pretty little girl," Rachel Bolers at- 
 tempted to assure her, — "yes, yes, there must be. Here, 
 here," she said, as she became calmer, "this way," she 
 quickly passed out of the view of those in the chamber 
 and was heard, from behind a spur of rock whence she 
 had disappeared at a far angle in the rear of the cave, 
 calling loudly for her companions to follow. 
 
 Billings, who had stood in silence watching the 
 actions of those about him in this last crisis of their af- 
 fairs, was the first to obey the voice of the woman in her 
 concealed place of hope and succor. Smoky's impulsive 
 
446 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 starting forward was a cue for the rest, and he, followed 
 by De and William White — the water now rising above 
 the ankles — sought the spot from which Rachel's cries 
 still issued. When White reached Rachel Bolers' side, 
 he found her tearing at what, to him, appeared to be a 
 solid wall of rock. Closer inspection, however, showed 
 signs of crevices around a large space of the wall's sur- 
 face 
 
 "There's a spring 'at works it, some'eres," she mut- 
 tered, — "some'eres, hereabouts, Mr. White," said the 
 anxious creature. 
 
 "Can I help you, Rachel?" asked William. 
 
 "I never paid much 'tention to their doin'ses in this 
 'ere part uv the biz'ness, anyway; but it's here — must 
 be," hoarsely moaned Nance's mother still wildly seek- 
 ing the means of removing the stone. 
 
 The mysterious underground river had sought them 
 out in their present more removed and even higher 
 quarters and was whirling in circling eddies about their 
 feet and limbs. Rachel, with a cry of delight, eagerly 
 pressed a hidden spring, and the crevice-marked piece 
 of wall sank slowly from view. "The machinery," she 
 cried, and made a leap for a great iron lever or crank 
 at the foot of a rude staircase discovered on the disap- 
 pearance of the rocky panel. The terrified woman tugged 
 and pulled frantically at this evidence of mechanical 
 contrivance in the secret workings of the robbers' ref- 
 uge; but seemingly to no avail, for she wailed in de- 
 spair, 
 
 * ' No use ! I thought so. The machinery 's out uv 
 order." The panting creature paused in her efforts 
 and gazed, with the look of some wild animal at bay, 
 around upon her fellow prisoners anxiously and breath- 
 lessly gathered about her. 
 
LOST. 447 
 
 There was an instant of silence, and William Wliite 
 said with a desperate and resolved effort at calm, 
 
 "Rachel, do I understand you to mean that this cave 
 can be flooded, by accident or design, to the roof?" 
 
 "It's accident, dearie, it's accident. The Watergate 
 has slipped down and cut off the flow out'ard uv the 
 river. How high the water '11 rise, dearie, I don't know. 
 Up, up," cried the woman, the flood beginning to swish 
 her skirts, and urging her companions to ascend the 
 rough stone stairway before them, "up!" 
 
 In passing to their hope of escape, when Rachel 
 Bolers had first called them. White, inspired by a last 
 humane thought, took a farewell look at the still features 
 of the outlaw captain. They left him lying, peacefully, 
 where he had fallen from the soldier's bullet. They went 
 on up the rocky way hewn by the freebooters, in rugged 
 steps, passing above the water creeping in cruel approach 
 upon them. On, up, they went, Rachel leading. They 
 soon arrived upon what seemed a final landing place to 
 this staircase in the rock, going nowhere; for here the 
 way ended abruptly. White looked from an opening 
 in the wall that shut them in and gazed, as from a 
 kind of balcony, down into the thrilling and half sub- 
 merged chamber wliich they had just left. 
 
 ' ' They, ' ' said the woman of the cave, as she followed 
 the glance that the writer had thrown to the water- 
 covered floor of the apartment below, and hastily drew 
 her own look back from the body of the dead outlaw 
 leader floating in the rising current, — "they wuz a-goin' 
 ter finish this 'ere secret way uv escape, an ' never did. ' ' 
 
 "I regret that they did not," said Wliite drily. 
 
 "Their plan wuz to flood the cave on their pursuers, 
 ef they ^YUz follered in here," further volunteered 
 Rachel, humbly, in the reasonable supposition that her 
 
448 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 hearers might feel interested in the full, though com- 
 plex, designs of her old associates. 
 
 "Your friends were a precious lot of rascals, friend 
 Rachel," quoth the literary man removing his gaze 
 from a searching view of the limited space of rock by 
 which they were immediately encompassed on the small 
 landing where they stood and, once more, allowing it to 
 rest upon the stern, set features of the dead robber 
 chieftain, whose body was slowly wheeling around in 
 the eddies below. "Billings," quietly remarked Will- 
 iam, looking anxiously at De Braddock, "have you any- 
 thing to offer?" resignation and hopelessness, the latter 
 concealed, however, as far as possible from De, possessed 
 him, as he spoke. 
 
 The underground stream had rapidly overflowed the 
 lower portions of the cave until the waters released 
 from all restraint had, by this time, reached a consider- 
 able and threatening depth. Smoky, in his turn, stared 
 mechanically down upon the place from which they had 
 but recently fled. His own eyes dwelt upon the pallid 
 face of the now silent leader of the robbers of the caves 
 where, in stubborn rivalry, the powerful surface currents 
 and undertows fought for possession of the still bandit, 
 as if they might have considered the senseless clay an 
 indispensable asset in providing for their own rapacious 
 appetites for prey. 
 
 "I don't know, sir," replied Billings with an appear- 
 ance of hesitation, to White's previous inquiry; and 
 fixing a look of concern upon their charge De Braddock. 
 Smoky refused to confess to the fear he himself felt that 
 they were never to get out of the caverns alive. He 
 moved his gaze over the walls of the confined space in 
 which they had taken refuge. Turning to Rachel Bolers 
 he casually asked, 
 
 "You don't know where that leads to, do you?" 
 
LOST. 449 
 
 pointing, at the same time, to a short, narrow passage 
 among the rocks, that extended, at right angles to the 
 spot on which they stood, in seemingly a blind excursion 
 into the impassable obstruction of their prison house : 
 For the little defile apparently led nowhere, and came 
 to a sudden and abrupt end in their sight. 
 
 Rachel answered promptly and with the same air of 
 rational frankness and candor that had characterized 
 her since the waters had shut them in. 
 
 "It wuz up thet a-way they wuz ter hev' carried the 
 secret passage fur the escape," said Rachel Bolers with 
 a hopeless shake of the head. 
 
 White, for some time, had been watching a small 
 projection of stone which he had selected upon a section 
 of wall in the larger cavern for the purpose of gauging 
 the height to which the lost river might rise. The species 
 of enclosed balcony on which they stood was no more 
 than ten feet from the floor of the cavern. The water, 
 White judged, had reached to the dangerous depth of 
 several feet. It was still rising, but not so rapidly as 
 before. 
 
 The end of the passage which Rachel had said was to 
 have been used by the robbers to complete their avenue 
 of escape, being plainly in sight and but a little distance 
 off, when it appeared to occur abruptly at a huge boul- 
 der, attracted Billings' interest. He had allowed him- 
 self to conceive but a scant hope of an outlet, here, in 
 view of the growing belief that Rachel Bolers could be 
 relied upon for the truth of all she had imparted to 
 them. He, therefore, quietly slipped away and entered 
 the blind alley silently, lest hope, aroused without reason, 
 be hopelessly disappointed. 
 
 ' ' They will be looking for us out there, ' ' said White, 
 and his voice was as that of one who had begun to specu- 
 late upon the outside world, from the depths of a living 
 
450 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 tomb, and hollow in spite of himself. He looked quickly 
 around, however, with a bright smile, to De to reassure 
 her, and nodded hopefully and encouragingly to Rachel. 
 
 What hour of the night it had grown to be, at last, 
 none could tell. Somewhere, in a mysterious chain of 
 underground chambers, there must have been connected 
 vdth their own cavern a reservoir for the overflow of the 
 secret river; for the body of water had plainly ceased 
 to rise. 
 
 There were rough projections of stone from floor and 
 wall, where they that waited found rude seats ; and here 
 De and William sat, side by side, as the heavy and 
 brooding night wore on. 
 
 They, these two, who had been so much to one an- 
 other; whose lives had been so interwoven; between 
 whom but one dividing interest had ever come, — they 
 now waited, not in despair, but in the lofty resolve and 
 resignation of souls committed to that which the uni- 
 versal decree, yes ! bears to all alike in divine kindness, 
 merciful understanding of our common wants and in 
 eternal peace, love, rest and joy. 
 
 It was De who finally spoke. 
 
 "We can die together," said she. She was thinking 
 of Simons and of that which was to her worse, far worse, 
 than death itself — the hateful marriage understanding 
 between them. She looked innocently and fearlessly into 
 the eyes of the man at her side. ' ' It would be easy, oh ! 
 so easy, to do so." 
 
 There are times when, in the face of threatening and 
 impending doom, the soul laid bare by its owTier facing 
 the issues of eternity may not be questioned in that 
 owner's act. De could not have more confidingly con- 
 fessed to William White the imperishable love she bore 
 him. To the companion of her hour of trial, the express- 
 ion of her heart was sacred ; and he silently accepted the 
 
LOST. 451 
 
 meaning of her words. He delayed, in that moment of 
 gr§,ve uncertainty to life, the revelation of that which 
 he might have uttered in prejudice of the subject which 
 he well knew was occupying his fellow prisoner's 
 thoughts — Brad Simons. Were they not to escape, then 
 might she as well never know the depth of Simons' 
 infamy; did they, in the favor of fortune and provi- 
 dence, ever leave the caverns, alive, why then — well, 
 then, they would — 
 
 "See," De whispered in awed tones to "William 
 White. 
 
 White followed the direction of her gaze and point- 
 ing finger. 
 
 The rough and broken arch forming the entrance to 
 the cavernous chamber, where the angry flood swept 
 back and forth, like the cavern's distant, vaulted roof, 
 was lofty, and its top still remained far above the level 
 of the water's reach. The strong, steady ebb and flow 
 of Lost River was ever driving the dead outlaw in upon 
 its inner flow and outward on its retreat. The mysteries 
 of the beyond were growing impatient, and the living 
 waters clamored and hungered to claim him. The bril- 
 liant, garish and dazzling lights, as yet untouched by 
 the waters, sparkled and flashed, gleamed and glowed 
 upon the face of the dead, where the great black beard 
 of disguise still covered the features of one whose place 
 in the world without had once been recognized of influ- 
 ence, dignity and importance. The evil flesh at rest — 
 the staring and unseeing eyes fixed upon the flaming 
 beacons in their still and silent owner's underworld bril- 
 liant and resplendent stronghold of crime — the lesson 
 of the vanity of selfish greed, lawless cruelty and their 
 cause drifted at the outlet of the cave, where the currents 
 and the waters wrestled to bear it away to the interests 
 of eternity. William White and De Braddock watched, 
 
452 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 and the dead outlaw, vrith his cold face and sightless 
 eyes agleam, went out with the flood. 
 
 "William?" once more whispered De. 
 
 "Best beloved?" responded her companion. 
 
 "Did the man do his duty?" 
 
 "The dead man?" 
 
 "The dead man." 
 
 ' ' God help him ! ' ' fervently ejaculated the writer. 
 
 "William?" 
 
 "What is it, true heart?" 
 
 "If we are saved, I have a duty that may command 
 my life. remember now that, though I take upon my- 
 self other ties and self denials, I have loved those wiio 
 would have sorely suffered had I forsaken them. Is that, 
 William, duty — to comfort them that sorrow, ease them 
 that cry in pain?" 
 
 "That," returned the man, "is life's first holy pur- 
 pose." 
 
 "And, William,— " 
 
 "Yes—" 
 
 ' ' — when we love and do our duty — ? " 
 
 "It is the dawn of life immortal," replied her com- 
 panion. 
 
 She must have slept; for, by and by. White gently 
 touched her as she sat leaning against him, and she 
 became conscious of Smoky Billings standing before 
 them. 
 
 "Come," said Smoky with a look of cheering hope, 
 "I have found something." 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 A GHOSTLY GUIDE. 
 
 They went with Billings. He had discovered that 
 which Rachel did not know, — that the outlaws had 
 already prepared the way for the removal of a massive 
 rock at the end of the defile. A crowbar and pick lay 
 in the little passage ; and with these Smoky Billings had 
 demonstrated, to his own satisfaction, his power to go 
 on in the robbers' own direction of safety. 
 
 None were more eager that Rachel. She pressed 
 forward, with the others, to discover, by the e\idence of 
 her own eyes, Avherein she had made so vital — so inter- 
 esting and important — a mistake. 
 
 "You see," indicated Smoky to White, taking the 
 latter to a slight opening at the side of the boulder, 
 while De clung to William's arm, "out beyond, there, 
 tho' it's dark, is open way uv some kind er other." 
 
 By the united strength of William White and Smoky 
 Billings the stone was rolled away and went thundering 
 down into the unknown depths of a pit which lay just 
 past the stone, in its rear. What seemed to be a perilous 
 path led up at the brink of this cavity in the earth, until 
 it lost itself in the uncertain darkness beyond. 
 
 Smoky Billings insisted upon going over the unex- 
 plored way, first. Wliite finally consented; and Smoky, 
 with a match case full of matches, set forth upon his 
 uncertain and perilous journey. The small party of 
 watchers saw him strike his first match; saw him go on 
 till it had almost expired, and saw him light another. 
 
 453 
 
454 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 All the way up that path, they watched, with breathless 
 interest, the plucky and courageous fellow, as match 
 after match flickered low, replenish his twinkling tapers 
 and continue to ascend. After a while, they saw him 
 turn and retrace his careful steps. 
 
 Unknown to even Rachel Bolers, the outlaws had 
 already opened a way — baffling and mystifying in its 
 nature, but still a way — out of the flooded territory of 
 the caves. It was apparent to both White and Billings, 
 that the brigands ' secrets — some of them, at least — had 
 been carefully guarded from the knowledge of even 
 Rachel Bolers herself; who, with all her former seeming 
 mental frailty, had been implicitly trusted in many 
 responsible ways by Jason Jump and his fell and rapa- 
 cious associates. 
 
 There is a shrewd surmise, as heretofore intimated, 
 that the outlaw leader purposely gave her the oppor- 
 tunity, which may have resulted in her gaining possess- 
 ion of the compromising marriage agreement between 
 Brad Simons and Mona Walker, — if Rachel at this time 
 had really secured it, — in hidden revenge on the cattle- 
 man for refusing Jump's offer to sell Brad the uncom- 
 fortable and compromising document. Mona Walker's 
 interests could have inspired the unfortunate man, as 
 well. Jason Jump, as has before been hinted, was un- 
 able to foresee, if such were the case, to what dire events 
 his owTi act favoring Rachel would lead. 
 
 But the discovery of further galleries and passages 
 in this maze of underground chambers was little better, 
 apparently, than a hollow mockery of the imprisoned 
 captives' situation, in the seemingly hopeless confusion 
 and unexplored condition of these obstacles in the way 
 of deliverance from the dangers and menaces of their 
 prison house. Still, to feel that they were not to meet 
 death amid the sluggish, slimy waters below the rocky 
 
A GHOSTLY GUIDE. 455 
 
 balcony behind them was a relief beyond their hopes but 
 a few moments since; for there could be no doubt that 
 the cunning freebooters knew the way ahead to be safe 
 from flood, at least. 
 
 They contrived to secure a lamp from the granitelike 
 wall of the larger cavern where the article of under- 
 ground illumination had been placed, by its original 
 lawless owners, within reach from the landing on which 
 the adventurers had stood. With this to light the dan- 
 gers, terrors and obscurities of their unknown way, the 
 begirt though stout hearted unfortunates set out to ex- 
 plore their forbidding and uninviting dungeons. They 
 shuddered as they threaded the narrow foothold which, 
 looking down into the black and seemingly bottomless 
 abyss in the rear of the large boulder removed by Will- 
 iam White and Smoky Billings, took them to a further 
 small landing or platform of rock, where Smoky had 
 before paused to return from his first trip of discovery. 
 
 There were many narrow passages leading in as many 
 different directions, beyond the point whence Billings 
 had returned; and which of these to take puzzled and 
 added grave and anxious care to their progress. It was 
 well enough known to White, of all those present, that 
 human beings had, before their time, been lost — hope- 
 lessly lost — in the labyrinths of subterranean cata- 
 combs, and never come forth alive. 
 
 "Look — look!" screamed Rachel Bolers, suddenly, 
 where she stood, facing the way they had come. 
 
 It was well the little band of explorers had found a 
 safe resting place, for the startling and unearthly effect 
 of the wild woman's attitude and thrilling exclamation 
 might, otherwise, have caused serious results at the 
 brink of the pit, by the blood-curdling note her cry 
 imparted to the uncanny and fearful surroundings. As 
 it was, all turned to see the inhabitant of the caves 
 
456 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 standing so near the pit's black, yawning mouth that 
 "White, only restrained by apprehension of an ill-advised 
 movement, on his part, being calculated to precipitate 
 the object of it into the depths below, stood spellbound, 
 with the rest, at what followed. 
 
 "Yes, yes," cried the wild and possessed woman, 
 whose spiritual sight, heated by the events of the past, 
 raised visions foul and fair, "I see ye, and I hear ye. 
 Whut is it, Hank, dearie ? — yes, yes. Ye waves yer 
 arms — ye has a smile 'at 's kind — yer w^ants ter he 'p 
 us ? — I see, I see, — ye nods yer head, — ye '11 he 'p us, — 
 ye nods yer head." White, following a gesture of her 
 wildly entreating hand, could see she indicated the soli- 
 tary, gloomy space above the center of the dark, gaping 
 chasm in front of them. He looked, — he saw nothing. 
 "Yes, yes, Hank, dear Hank, I'll do it,— I'll do it," 
 continued Rachel. ' ' Which one uv the passages is it ? — 
 Ye-e-es, — he 's gone, but he told me, ' ' and she turned 
 slowly to her companions and pointed simply to an 
 opening in one of the several galleries stretching away 
 before their views. "That one '11 lead ye out," she 
 said. — "He said he'd come back and ha'nt me, an' he 
 done it, — but he wuz kind," she muttered to herself. 
 
 "But, Rachel, — " began William White, dubiously. 
 
 "Ye'd better go that way," was all they could get 
 her to say. 
 
 White, seconded by Smoky Billings, — De remaining 
 diffidently noncommittal, — passed over Rachel Bolers' 
 spiritual directions, with what bordered on a touch of 
 impatient and inconsequential consideration, and led the 
 way, without more controversy, into a passage other 
 than the one indicated by Rachel ; and that seemed to 
 offer, among the blind alleys leading in various paths 
 from where they stood, as good a chance for escape from 
 the caverns as any of its mates. They toiled on, in dis- 
 
A GHOSTLY GUIDE. 457 
 
 heartening silence, little room existing for more than one 
 in advance of another, and, in such formation, hardly 
 space in which to stand erect. 
 
 Rachel kept in the rear, being the last to proceed 
 and continued to mutter her confidence in the reliability 
 and correctness of her recently acquired supernatural 
 knowledge. 
 
 After long and weary effort, during which it would 
 have been impossible to tell how far they had pro- 
 gressed, De was the first to pause. Simultaneously Bill- 
 ings, who, with the lamp, had managed to work to some 
 distance ahead of White — invariably appearing ani- 
 mated by a desire to place De Braddock's lover in as 
 little risk as possible — came to a halt, and announced to 
 those behind him, that the way was blocked for extending 
 their search in that direction. De, who had been ab- 
 sorbed in thought since starting to explore the gallery 
 they were then in, said quietly to William White, 
 
 "One, like Rachel, so long frequenting these regions, 
 might have a guiding sense, if only a species of blind 
 animal instinct, — that — " 
 
 "Tut, tut," said White kindly. 
 
 They had turned and were, by this time, retracing 
 their steps; and, after a dispiriting trial, again found 
 themselves standing by the great pit. 
 
 Rachel now remained, to all appearances, an indif- 
 ferent and uncommunicative spectator of the others' 
 confusion and uncertainty. 
 
 "Guess better try Rachel's way," at last said 
 Smoky. 
 
 "Try it, William," bravely suggested De. "Should 
 it be wrong, we can come back again." 
 
 Hesitatingly, at length, White proposed a trial of 
 Rachel's selection, and they started to explore the pas- 
 sage she had pointed out. 
 
458 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 This gallery was somewhat narrower at its mouth 
 than the others; but wider and roomier, as the seekers 
 for freedom went on, than the one they had previously 
 been in. White came to a sudden halt, w^here the light 
 which Billings carried fell upon some crude markings at- 
 tracting attention upon the left hand wall. 
 
 Here, rudely carved in the rock, were several singu- 
 lar characters. An arrow appeared first, pointing 
 straight ahead; then came a number of dashes; after 
 this, a mark which closely inspected was made out to be 
 a crude X or cross — beneath the cross were the words: 
 ''Press in." 
 
 Over these irregular markings, William White, with 
 a set, care-drawn face, puzzled deeply, for a moment. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Uncle Peter Braddock, together with the strong force 
 of neighbors whom he had enlisted in his search, saw 
 the night advance, with an aching heart for mother, at 
 home, and the most acute and anguished concern for the 
 TinknowTi fate of his beloved child. He and Bob Likkum, 
 whose sympathetic and true hearted support and com- 
 pany the old farmer had all that awful night, had wan- 
 dered away from their companions in brief and un- 
 successful excursions resulting from occasional sugges- 
 tions arising among the group of searchers; and had as 
 often returned to continue unavailing and fruitless pur- 
 suit of their quest. It is doubtful whether or not any of 
 those forming Peter's associates had knowledge of defi- 
 nite kind affecting the location of the cave-resorts of the 
 outlaws, of that section of the country ; none more than 
 confessing, under their breath, to intimacy or familiarity 
 with the existence itself of the dread band of malefac- 
 tors. If the hunt for trace of the lost girl took the 
 anxious seekers out of the more beaten tracks of the 
 country ways, it was in a manner alone a chance prompt- 
 ing that caused such varying course to be adopted. 
 However, Likkum, in a sort of knowing appreciation of 
 the general detailed life of his locality, recalled the as- 
 sault upon De, by the outlaw whom Smoky had 
 thwarted; and discreetly though reluctantly suggested 
 to old Braddock the possibility of the mystery of De's 
 whereabouts falling in with a more extended disposition 
 
 459 
 
460 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 of criminal purpose on the part of the miscreant. Bob, 
 here, proposed, from his meager knowledge of the region 
 of their haunts, to endeavor to discover something amidst 
 the outlaws in their native fastnesses. Farmer Brad- 
 dock, out of whose Hoosier blood had been left the mean- 
 ing of fear or disloyalty, at once directed an immediate 
 invasion of the robbers' territory, with Bob Likkum as 
 guide. 
 
 It had transpired, at the time of Likkum 's sugges- 
 tion, that Uncle Peter 's searching party was near a patch 
 of high, rocky ground much feared and avoided in the 
 country, by reason of the presence, here, of dreadful, 
 mysterious and unsounded holes known to reach down 
 into the unplumbed bowels of the earth. They skirted 
 this raised mass of earth and stone and found themselves, 
 unknowingly, close to where the body of Hen, the dead 
 outlaw lieutenant, lay stretched out in his last rest, by 
 the hand of Smoky Billings. 
 
 Back in the caves, where, so close to those seeking 
 them, hail could have easily reached the ears of the 
 searching party had those confined within the earth been 
 above ground, the captives of flood and chance were 
 poring anxiously and deeply over the mysterious signs 
 on the rocky wall of the subterranean gallery. The 
 roughly carved arrow pointing ahead of the dashes, the 
 cross mark similarly and crudely cut in the stone, and 
 beneath the cross the words, ' ' Press in, ' ' at first, from the 
 last phrase, naturally suggested the pressing in upon 
 the section of rock on which the characters were in- 
 scribed. This was found, however, to result in nothing — ■ 
 the wall stood as firm as adam.ant against their united 
 strength. 
 
 White knit his brows, while the others ranged about 
 him in helpless quandary. 
 ' Suddenly he cried out to Billings: 
 
THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 461 
 
 "Smoky, I have it. The arrow means to go on; the 
 dashes — which, you see, are just fifteen — mean feet or 
 paces — let's try both, — and the cross, over the words, 
 'Press in,' means 'cross over — press in,' — that is, 'Cross 
 over to and press in upon the opposite wall.' Let's see if 
 I am not right. We '11 go forward, say, — try fifteen feet, 
 first. Wait, — here is another sign or something. I make 
 it out to be a word, — yes, it's the word 'Outlet,' is it 
 not, De?" 
 
 The girl looked closely and confirmed White's de- 
 cision. 
 
 "But," said her companion, "it appears to be much 
 lower down than the rest," and he struck the rock, 
 which, before, they had not done, having contented them- 
 selves with merely pressing in upon it. It certainly gave 
 back a dull, hollow note. ' ' Smoky, ' ' said White, a new 
 idea seizing him and holding him back, "you go on, say 
 fifteen feet, cross over to the opposite wall, and press in. 
 I will remain here. ' ' 
 
 The diagram or chart appeared in the form of a puz- 
 zling and rough sort of rebus, something like the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 
 ^-V/ -'-— ~",^- 
 
 By this time, the group gathered about the unex- 
 plained portion of stone was roused to the highest pitch 
 of interest and excited anticipation. 
 
 Billings carefully counted off fifteen feet, crossed the 
 
462 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 low, narrow passage or tunnel and tested the wall as 
 directed, but ^dthout result. 
 
 ' ' No use, Mr. White, ' ' he announced, examining thor- 
 oughly the rocky surface in front of him by light of the 
 lamp he carried, and striking the wall with a small piece 
 of stone taken from the floor. "It's solid, an' won't 
 budge an inch." 
 
 White, who had waited hopefully, with the others, for 
 a possible successful outcome of the trial, felt a touch of 
 disappointment; but, remembering the distance to go 
 from where he stood might be greater, instantly replied, 
 in a cheerful voice, to reassure the others, "Try paces, 
 Smoky, — fifteen paces." 
 
 So fifteen paces were measured off by Billings, and 
 another attempt made, this time with more success, — the 
 piece of wall pressed upon moved. And William Wliite, 
 intently scanning the section of wall, before which he re- 
 mained standing, saw it move, likewise. 
 
 "Mr. White," called Billings, from his place at !!■« 
 further point in the gallery, "it won't go in, anymore— 
 it's stopped — the rock's stopped, an' I can't pass 
 through. ' ' 
 
 "Come back," called the writer, in return, though 
 without explanation. 
 
 Smoky Billings rejoined the balance of his party. He 
 found them before an opening in the rough, uneven 
 rocky wall, a portion of the latter, which contained the 
 roughly engraved symbols and words, having disap- 
 peared beneath the surface of hard, indurated earth and 
 stone on which they all stood. 
 
 "The piece of rock you pressed on," said White, 
 briefly, for the benefit of those with him, and speaking 
 directly to Billings, ' ' must be connected with my section, 
 by rods running under the flooring," White expressively 
 tapped the tightly packed dirt and rubble stone wth his 
 
THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 463 
 
 foot, "and draws down the block of stone, at this point," 
 indicating, wdth his hand, the dark opening in their 
 sight. 
 
 The curious complexity and ingenuity of mechanism 
 employed by the outlaws, at this remote stage of escape 
 from possible pursuit, have been justly attributed as 
 much to Jump's general aim, in the cunning and tire- 
 less play of his acute and extraordinary genius and men- 
 tal powers, at a plan for the mystification and impressing 
 of his criminal and romantic associates, as to anything 
 else. It was necessary for the outlaw leader to hold to 
 him these degenerates, by every means he could contrive. 
 Nothing so satisfies the imagination and the fancy of 
 the reckless and the lawless as wild and irregular achive- 
 ment. 
 
 It now only remained for the imprisoned explorers to 
 warily and cautiously enter upon an investigation of 
 what lay beyond the newly revealed and mysterious 
 doorway. William White struck a match, and, despite 
 Billings' protests, was first to enter the gloomy chamber 
 into which the entrance through the wall ushered them. 
 Smoky followed, and De and Rachel brought up the rear. 
 White's taper suddenly went out, ere Smoky Billings 
 had gotten well inside the damp, mouldy apartment, and 
 the former uttered an involuntary exclamation over the 
 mishap. The writer's sailor associate, with the lamp, 
 was quickly at the other's side, however, and the little 
 band of adventurers found themselves, by its light, with- 
 in a commodious and roomy apartment of the caverns. 
 
 "Look," cried De pointing to the center of the room, 
 — ' ' a table and food. ' ' 
 
 And sure enough the place of resort, in the robbers' 
 adopted plan in face of unexpected invasion of their 
 lair, was seen to be a well equipped point of possible 
 siege and comfort. 
 
464 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Billings, scrutinizing the elevated inner roof of the 
 cavern, made another interesting and, at this time, even 
 more valuable discovery. 
 
 "There's yer 'Outlet,' " he remarked to William 
 White, with a relieved gesture at the ceiling. 
 
 Near the center of the overhead rocky covering of the 
 extensive and roomy cavity, was an irregular hole large 
 enough to admit the entrance or exit of one person, at 
 a time. Its lower edge presented an appearance of great 
 depth from the w^orld above, in the seemingly far-off 
 glimpse they caught of the stars in tlie night sky, with- 
 out ; but the safe flooring of the place, the necessary sup- 
 plies and the consciousness that they had found the out- 
 laws' emergency exit from their weird and uncanny 
 dens, filled the members of the gathering, in flight from 
 deluge and death, with joy. 
 
 Their feelings of elevation and elation, however, were 
 doomed to be quickly dissipated, for nowhere could be 
 found any means that might have been employed by the 
 freebooters for reaching the opening in the roof. Search 
 as they would, there was no ladder — nothing to be dis- 
 covered by which to ascend to that lofty height from the 
 floor of their place of confinement. They might as well 
 have been shut in a cell, bolted and barred, with no hope 
 of ever removing the inflexible and impenetrable iron 
 and steel of bars and bolts. 
 
 "Rachel, in a way, was right, — the miscreants had 
 not finished their purposes," commented White; "or 
 their designs are to forever remain beyond our knowl- 
 edge and shrouded in mystery." 
 
 William White's observation — speculation — might in- 
 deed have but suggested the seeming eternal and un- 
 knowable Avays of all evil, in the apparent baffling mys- 
 tery of the universal plan and purpose of dark and de- 
 vious methods, and shrouding life. I, myself, remem- 
 
THE CAVERNS OP DAWN. 465 
 
 ber, once asking the chief of the bureau of detectives of 
 tlie ^Metropolitan Police, of Washington, why a character, 
 then under suspicion, had done something incidental to 
 the subject of the main misdoing then under considera- 
 tion, — something to all appearances out of all even crim- 
 inal reason, and entirely devoid of any suggestion of a 
 rational connection with the rest of the case. He re- 
 plied, ''God alone could answer the question; that a 
 criminal was prone to do things there was no accounting 
 for, on this earth." 
 
 We are probably all similarly and equally gifted. 
 
 However, there is an explanation for the missing and 
 essential provision of means by which the outlawed 
 workers entered and left their cavern-refuge. The as- 
 cent to the roof was effected, by use of a rope ladder, and, 
 after exit was thus accomplished, the ladder was drawn 
 up and securely and secretly concealed in a place of hid- 
 ing in the woods and rocks above. Thus the outcasts 
 had carried on their operations in preparing the way be- 
 yond the first cavern. They had, of course, as yet, not 
 completed their purposes, as evidenced, doubtless, in 
 the unremoved stone, which Smoky Billings and William 
 White had succeeded in displacing, at the balcony-de- 
 file, in the main cave. In fancied security or neglect the 
 outlaws had left the roof-mouth of the cavern, where the 
 captives now rested, open. 
 
 In his continued and absorbed interest in the uncer- 
 tain prospect of their escape from the caves. White 
 moved aimlessly and restlessly about their rocky place 
 of confinement. As long, however, as they could see, if 
 only far above them, evidence of the outside world in 
 the glimpse afforded them of the night sky, without, 
 through the hole in the distant roof, the problem of their 
 ultimate rescue did not, for some reason, seem so hope- 
 less to him. 
 
466 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 De was, already, at the rude table, examining, with 
 the foresight of a true housewife, the supply of provis- 
 ions with which the outlaws had furnished their lair. 
 Rachel was seated silent upon a roughly made bench. 
 Billings was apparently lost in thought. 
 
 "What's this?" White was heard to suddenly ex- 
 claim. 
 
 They all turned, at the sound of his voice, to see him 
 standing alone, in a remote corner of the cave, where, in 
 a grotto-like recess, the writer had come unexpectedly 
 upon an iron-bound, oaken chest. 
 
 His surprised announcement of the discovery brought 
 the others to his side. The case was locked, and only 
 with the greatest difficulty did they succeed in forcing it 
 open. Using heavy stones and the cutlery from the out- 
 laws' table upon the lock, .and forcing the lid with a 
 rusty hatchet found in the cave, the cover finally yielded. 
 
 White stepped back, with some papers from the box 
 in his hands. 
 
 ' ' The stolen bank funds and securities ! ' ' exclaimed 
 the astonished finder. 
 
 Before their fascinated gaze lay the restored wealth 
 of the little community, including William White 's mod- 
 est bank deposit. The mortgage on the literary aspirant 's 
 small farm had been foreclosed, and he had lost the home 
 property; but he rejoiced none the less in the good for- 
 tune and glad tidings that this unlooked for discovery 
 would bring to his friends and neighbors, in the outside 
 world, if the lucky finders ever succeeded in getting out 
 of their prison, — if they ever did ! 
 
 If Rachel Bolers had possessed the stolen marriage 
 agreement between Mona Walker and Brad Simons, 
 which was not among the recovered articles. Jump, if 
 through him she had secured it, must have, in some way, 
 favored her previous possession of it ; as the woman knew 
 
THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 467 
 
 nothing of this secret hiding place for the results of the 
 bank robbery, prior to her entrance into it in company 
 with William White and his companions. 
 
 Billings, standing directly beneath the opening in the 
 roof above, suddenly and for no apparent reason raised 
 a prolonged shout. 
 
 "What's that for?" inquired the literary man, look- 
 ing as if he thought Smoky's recent experiences might 
 have been too much for the faithful sailor. 
 
 "Signals uv distress," laconically rejoined the sea- 
 faring man. 
 
 They understood. All that was left for them to do 
 was to make themselves as comfortable as circumstances 
 would permit; and hope for some passing searcher ou 
 chance visitor to that region to hear their calls for help. 
 The country round about was avoided as a pestilence 
 was, by reason of its mystery and darksome pitfalls; 
 and they felt a shock of uneasy apprehension concerning 
 the fate of any who, confronting the additional danger 
 of encounter with the remnant of the outlaw band, would 
 have knowledge sufficient to lead them hither in explor- 
 ing search of this treacherous and questionable locality. 
 The chance that their own signals for help might bring 
 the other freebooters down upon them or their hoped for 
 rescuers had to be taken. 
 
 Life, at best, is, now and then, but chance. 
 
 And Smoky Billings shouted loud and long. 
 
 Peter Braddock, under the direction and guidance of 
 Bob Likkum, and attended by the faithful little company 
 of neighbors and friends who accompanied him in search 
 for his missing daughter, made his way cautiously 
 around the elevated mound of earth and stone which they 
 had reached. Night was now far advanced. Their pro- 
 gress, by Likkum 's advice and craft, was concealed, so 
 far as could be, from any possible spying outposts of the 
 
468 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 outlaws, should the freebooters' territory have been, at 
 last, discovered. 
 
 ''S-h-h," breathed Bob Likkum, guardedly. "Lis- 
 ten." 
 
 Something was moving, at a little distance away, 
 among some trees. 
 
 At this instant, Braddock, in advance of his party, 
 came to an abrupt halt, with a subdued exclamation on 
 his own lips. His companions gathered around him. Be- 
 fore them lay the body of Hen, the dead outcast. 
 
 "There's bin trouble, here," said old Peter Brad- 
 dock. 
 
 "Git behind cover," suddenly commanded Bob Lik- 
 kum catching sight, on the instant, of figures skulking 
 amidst the scattering growth of forest, in the pale, un- 
 certain light of the newly risen moon. 
 
 Likkum 's order was none too soon. The bullets 
 whistled past them, as Uncle Peter's little band gained 
 the shelter of some rocks. 
 
 Likkum, without more ado, opened fire, and a groan 
 from the direction of his aim told that the shot had taken 
 effect. 
 
 "I say, Bob," remonstrated old Braddock, "ye may 
 be a-firin' on frien's. They may mistook us." 
 
 "Don't keer to be mistook that way" replied Likkum. 
 "I seen the'r faces a-kivered up weth black rags, right 
 and proper." 
 
 "Who be ye?" called Farmer Braddock. 
 
 "We'll d — n soon show you, if you don't quit this 
 place, ' ' was the answer, from beyond Uncle Peter 's ram- 
 parts, in a loud, hoarse, brutal snarl. 
 
 "D'ye know anything 'bout my da'ter Delia Brad- 
 dock?" shouted the farmer. 
 
 "You be — say, how'd ye like tuh find out!" deris- 
 ively yelled back the spokesman of the evil and threaten- 
 
THE CAVERNS OP DAWN. 469 
 
 ing group among the shadows of the trees in front of the 
 party of searchers. 
 
 "Ef ye know anything 'bout my da'ter Delia Brad- 
 dock," persisted Uncle Peter, doughtily, "ye'd better 
 make up yer minds, fur yer own sakes, ter tell, an' tell 
 quick. We got th' sheriff here, an' — " 
 
 A volley of oaths, observations reflecting in anything 
 but a complimentary sense upon the sheriff and a burst 
 of mocking and sardonic laughter v/ere launched, by 
 Uncle Peter's uncomfortable adversaries, in response to 
 this earnest and resolute speech of the Hoosier father. 
 
 "Bob, did ye see how many uv 'em were ag'in' us?" 
 asked Peter Braddock, in a low voice. The stout old 
 Hoosier 's blood was up, and he was ready for a sortie as 
 any knight of old in castle walls. 
 
 "Not many," returned Bob Likkum. 
 
 "Zach," said Peter to Zach Stoner, the sheriff, whom 
 chance presence in Braddock 's neighborhood had made 
 a member of the searching party, "now's yer chanst ter 
 take the damn villains red-handed ! " 
 
 "I'm ready, Peter," simply and grimly returned the 
 fearless officer of the law. 
 
 "What d'ye say, Robert?" inquired Uncle Peter. 
 
 Now satisfied more than ever in a feeling that the fate 
 of De Braddock was affected by if not in the actual keep- 
 ing of the nameless spokesman of the miscreants and his 
 lawless associates, Bob Likkum cautiously suggested a 
 plan to Uncle Peter Braddock, looking to the immediate 
 conquest and capture of the band of ruffians before them. 
 
 They were in the thick of a patch of woods — the scat- 
 tered and broken fringe of forest thereabout abounding. 
 The members of both opposing forces had secured the 
 safe protection of the trees and rocks ; behind the shelter- 
 ing cover of which the respective little armies, so to 
 speak, rested upon their arms. 
 
470 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Likkum had placed himself behind a tree near Uncle 
 Peter, who was similarly protected. Bob spoke low to 
 Peter. 
 
 "You and me," whispered he, showing considerable 
 native shrewdness, " 'ull sneak, unbeknownst, aroun' be- 
 hind 'em. Stampede 'em frum the rear. An', w'en 
 they's all mixed up like, t'other of our fellers 'ull hit 
 'em a swipe from the front. See the idee ? ' ' 
 
 This plan was matured and completed by Likkum, 
 carefully and unseen, by the outlaws, sinking flat upon 
 his face to the earth and crawling silently and with equal 
 success from one to the other of his companions; when, 
 all having been duly acquainted with what was expected 
 of them, Peter and Bob, by seeming to quietly withdraw, 
 and by then making a wide detour, effected a position 
 in the rear of the enemy. 
 
 A flood of caustic humor, on the part of Peter Brad- 
 dock's party, supplied and directed from the front at the 
 outlaws, provided additional diversion under cover of 
 which Bob Likkum and Uncle Peter completed their 
 clever maneuver. 
 
 "Yo'll shorely make a purty pictur' you will," sang 
 out one of the party, the object of this pleasantry being 
 the spokesman of the thieves, "when yo' hang by yer 
 blame neck till ye can 't git yer breath. ' ' 
 
 A jeering retort was hurled back, making up in \i\e 
 coarseness lack of any and all other elements. 
 
 At the same instant the signal for attack upon the 
 outlaws to be simultaneously made from front and rear 
 — a shot beyond the outlaws' position — was heard. 
 
 "Come on, boys," Bob Likkum 's quick, sharp, ring- 
 ing shout cut the night. 
 
 With a sudden rush and wild yells, taking their law- 
 less enemies in the confusion and panic of surprise, Bob 
 Likkum, followed staunchly and unhesitatingly by the 
 
THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 471 
 
 others of the searching party, who promptly took up 
 Likkiim's blood thirsty and fiendish war cries, sprang 
 over the rocks and through the trees that had sheltered 
 him and Uncle Peter, and the entire assaulting force, 
 firing and shouting as it ran, closed from front and rear 
 in upon the threatening handful of outlawed fighters. 
 
 The unexpected and furious assault from the rear had 
 its effect, and, in the wildest disorder, the robbers broke 
 and fled. 
 
 Bob had felt a twinge in his arm, following a scatter- 
 ing fire from the trees on which they Avere advancing, 
 and this proved the only casualty among those of the at- 
 tacking party. The outlaws attempted to rally. Two fell 
 dead. Three or four escaped, in wild flight, into the 
 thicker body of adjacent forest, in their rear. 
 
 There was a moment of quiet in the noises and clamor 
 of battle. 
 
 "What's that?" exclaimed Likkum. 
 
 A long, faint, indistinct cry came wailing out upon 
 the air. 
 
 "It's someun' a-callin' fur help," said Peter Brad- 
 dock. 
 
 The group of victorious men turned instantly in the 
 direction whence the cry had seemed to come. 
 
 Once more, Smoky Billings' signal of distress, pro- 
 pelled by the sailor's powerful and experienced lungs, 
 came drifting to them from the bowels of the earth. 
 
 Braddock, with the others, proceeded to make his way 
 swiftly to the quarter in which he had been able to lo- 
 cate the sounds. He heard the call, again, and it 
 brought them to the foot of the elevated heap of stone 
 and soil where it was known deep cavities were to be 
 found in the earth. Again, and clearer, came the shout. 
 They were now upon the top of the mound, and from a 
 forbidding looking well issued a cry : 
 
472 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ' ' He-e-el4o,— h-e-e-1-p ! " 
 
 My God, Bob, they're below," gasped Peter Brad- 
 dock, ashen white in the ghostly moonlight of the ad- 
 vanced night. 
 
 "It's Billing's voice," said Bob. 
 
 "Friends is at hand," shouted Uncle Peter, bending 
 above the brink of the hole. 
 
 "Peter Braddock, is that you," roared Smoky Bill- 
 ings. 
 
 "It be." 
 
 "For Christ's sake git ropes." 
 
 "Be De there?" asked the old man, falteringly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Safe?" 
 
 "She is." 
 
 "Merciful God be blessed," tremblingly sobbed the 
 farmer. ' ' Smoky, I thank ye ! " 
 
 It took time, and considerable of it, for one of the 
 party of rescuers to go to the nearest point from which 
 ropes could be obtained, and those above ground con- 
 tinued to cheer their imprisoned friends. A special mes- 
 senger was, at once, despatched to relieve and inform 
 Mother Braddock of De's safety. 
 
 "Likkum," White called up, apprised during the 
 period of waiting of Bob's presence, "we'll be out in time 
 for the convention." 
 
 "Jes' take yer solemn oath on it," rehailed Likkum. 
 
 "I've got a wownded arm, teeth ye, William," shout- 
 ed Bob good naturedly, rather tickled than otherwise at 
 his hurt. "Hed a bresh weth th' outlaws a-comin' here, 
 and they pinked my wing f er me. 
 
 "Nothing serious?" called White. 
 
 "Nope," returned the cheerful man; "on'y a 
 scratch. ' ' 
 
 "Robert, ye go right to Mother, — she's pow'rful, 
 
THE CAVERNS OP DAV/N. 473 
 
 fixin' sich things," said Uncle Peter; and Likkura said 
 he would. 
 
 Bob laughed so White could hear him and be cheered. 
 
 "Rachel Bolers 's here," Smoky shouted up. 
 
 "De, " Uncle Peter called down, "let me hear yer 
 voice, gal. ' ' 
 
 And De answered, 
 
 "All right, father." 
 
 The ropes finally arrived and were let down into the 
 cave. 
 
 With great care Smoky Billings, below, sailor-wise 
 directed the manner in which they were to be drawn up 
 out of the cavern; and they were all, including Smoky 
 himself, who came last, soon once more standing in the 
 outer world, and in safety. Uncle Peter, haggard and 
 careworn, received De in his arms with the exclamation, 
 
 "Thank God Almighty!" 
 
 While Bob Likkum and others stood by and wiped 
 the tears away. 
 
 "De," exclaimed White, "it's morning!" 
 
 Day was breaking — the night was passed. 
 
 "Where, before jedgment, child, hev' ye bin — in 
 what hole uv the earth ? ' ' said Uncle Peter, a ray of cheer 
 breaking through the shadows of his eyes. 
 
 And De, answering her own question put to White, in 
 the caves, " — when we love and do our duty?" and re- 
 membering William White's words, "It is the dawn of 
 life immortal," cried, her face alight with the new 
 birth of day faintly reddening the east, 
 
 * ' In the cavern of dawn ! ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE WRATH TO COME.' 
 
 The country took fire over the outrage which De 
 Braddock had sustained, — figuratively speaking, blazed 
 in one unrestrained conflagration of public, private and 
 general indignation and wrath, that homes and firesides, 
 life and liberty should be so violated and the organized 
 causes of such unspeakable atrocities remain unde- 
 stroyed. The flames of universal condemnation ignited 
 society, and the irruption followed. 
 
 The leader of the outlaws, who was now familiar to 
 all as Black Hank, had been borne away upon the myste- 
 rious underground waters; and was forever effaced, in 
 material evidence, from the troubled and unhappy rec- 
 ord; as Jason Jump, however, none, save Brad Simons, 
 could identify the dead robber chieftain. Report, in 
 the popular mind, from time to time, had continued, in a 
 vague and elusive way, to connect the doings of the un- 
 known leader of the outcasts, as with one who was said 
 to have suffered some real or fancied grievance at the 
 hands of existing government. The rumor, perhaps, had 
 never been more than mere shadowy surmise or conjec- 
 ture arising out of the circling eddies of spontaneous 
 country gossip inspired by a word or a hint — a fragment 
 of suggestion or what not — passing idly from mouth to 
 mouth. Such comment in the midst of the primitive life! 
 of that rural though growdng community, — starting from 
 just what original source none could tell, — nevertheless, 
 was enough to fix an idea of the hidden meaning of the 
 
 474 
 
"THE WRATH TO COME." 475 
 
 rebel bandit, in current understanding. But even so, to 
 the general population the space between Black Hank 
 and Jason Jump was a cipher; and while the disappear- 
 ance of the ill used and disappointed government claim- 
 ant, in the mournful tragedy of the miserable outlaw of 
 the caverns, went direct to Bradford Simons' conscious- 
 ness, to others the death of Hank was but a curious and 
 uncomprehended coincidence with the singular dropping 
 from sight of Grigscomb's political manager and Simons' 
 friend and associate. 
 
 As time passed and Jump no longer appeared 
 amongst his followers, many surmises arose as to the 
 cause of his disappearance. If, in moments of specula- 
 tion, William White permitted himself, with Smoky 
 Billings, to connect the outlawry of the robber chieftain 
 with the character of the leader of the opposition to his 
 own congressional fortunes, the territory between the 
 outlaw and the well known citizen was too illusive and 
 indefinite to secure profitable or practical conclusions. 
 Notwithstanding, the problem of the lives of Black Hank 
 and Jason Jump retained a firm and fixed place in the 
 studious and conscientious mind of the political possibili- 
 ty and writer 
 
 After everything had been done to obtain trace of the 
 missing man, further unavailing effort was finally aban- 
 doned ; and Jason Jump took his place in the great cham- 
 ber of oblivion and forgetfulness. 
 
 At this time, however, men and women, — even the 
 children talked of nothing else, — men and women joined 
 in unceasing discussion of the situation, in that locality. 
 
 It was, of course, rightly inferred that the death of 
 two marauders, — Black Hank and his lieutenant, known 
 as Hen, — together with the two killed in the skirmish led 
 by Likkum, could not comprise the extinction of the en- 
 tire band ; and the ways and means were so unremitting- 
 
476 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 ly and untiringly discussed and such steps grimly and 
 relentlessly taken for the final elimination of the remain- 
 ing miscreants, that sure promise of early relief from 
 outlav\ay and crime dawned upon the burden-ridden 
 land. 
 
 It may have been unfortunate for certain phases of 
 William Wliite's political interests that Jump passed, be- 
 fore Wliite had been given more light upon the real 
 issues and facts underlying the ease of the manager of 
 Grigscomb's campaign ; although the ex-soldier and 
 literateur had now no reason to mistrust his own splendid 
 and overwhelming popularity. In spite of his insistent 
 efforts to have it understood that merit was due Smoky 
 Billings for the successful and timely invasion of the 
 robbers' den, the grateful and enthusiastic neighborhood 
 was too rejoiced over the recovery of the bank's stolen 
 valuables and their o^^^l wealth to permit any side track- 
 ing of William White's own credit for great services 
 greatly performed. And thus it seemed impossible to 
 stem a victorious and willing unanimity of selection, in 
 the case of White, when a question of nomination and 
 election should come about. Thus, upon the reflux, up 
 from the vortex of events, was to be thrown the writer's 
 triumph. 
 
 The convention, which was to nominate the standard 
 bearer of William White's party, was late in the season, 
 in its meeting. It so chanced, immediately following the 
 day and night of De's abduction and rescue, that ]\Ir. 
 White's friends, headed by Robert Likkum, convened 
 with the official gathering to select their candidate for 
 congress; and Brad Simons, now showing signs of the 
 effect upon his nerves of the awful fate of his perverted 
 companion and associate, had, with all the power and 
 adroit skill which the unfair use of money gave, been 
 long endeavoring to corrupt an opposition of sufficient 
 
''THE WKATII TO COME." 477 
 
 proportions to defeat White, in a convention of the 
 latter 's own party affiliation. 
 
 Grigseomb had been nominated upon the opposing 
 ticket, for some time, and Simons, at last aroused by 
 William White's popularity and evident strength, was 
 using every means to procure the lawyer's election and 
 secure the defeat and overthrow of the cattle dealer's 
 rival — hated and detested not only in politics but equally 
 despised and feared in affairs of the heart. 
 
 It unexpectedly looked, with this element of Brad's 
 unscrupulous and determined stand unmasking itself to 
 Likkum's watchful view, as if the nomination would be 
 tied up in spite of the feeling, in the popular breast, of 
 favor for the writer. Simons had, through widespread 
 business connections in the primitive community, obliged 
 influential members of his rival's party to take up, in 
 opposition to White in his own ranks, a young man, by 
 profession an attorney at law; and had attempted, with 
 some success, to weaken the literary man with a practical 
 element, by reviving the prejudice to what Simons 
 called, "White's flimsy, visionary and impractical call- 
 ing" — "that," as Brad Simons pointedly put it to those 
 early and unimaginative tillers of the ground, "of a 
 moonshine maker, — verses! what are they? He'll dis- 
 grace you before the country and the world. What has 
 he done for the community, besides accidently finding 
 some lost property?" 
 
 This was enough to put Likkum at his best. The little 
 time spent, by Bob, with the young legal light whom 
 Brad had filled with visions of future national greatness, 
 will long be remembered. 
 
 "You're a-goin'," said Eobert, as he entered the 
 
 young barrister's simple, one-room office, at T , and 
 
 walked abruptly up to the astonished aspirant for politi- 
 cal preferment, — "ye 're a-goin', Claw-Hammer, it is 
 
478 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 pop 'larly understood, ' ' bluntly went on the \dsitor with- 
 out unnecessary ceremonials, "to jump at a leap — at 
 one grand, shiverin', circus leap — to the position — the 
 honerable position," the redoubtable Likkum dwelling, 
 with flattering sarcasm, upon the last phrase, "of leader 
 of yer party, and," added Bob, appreciatively, "of 
 lovin ' bed-feller tub Brad Simons. Ye 're a helluvaf eller, 
 Claw, but do you think ye 're Ben Harrison er Dan 
 Voor-hees? Jes' wait — yer time '11 kum. Can't ye hev' 
 ez much patience ez a printer?" 
 
 Bob's address, directed at the disloyal object of it, 
 employed with great relish and emphasis the singular, 
 dignified and expressive name of "Claw Hammer," and 
 Likkum, in skilful and effective ridicule, used no other; 
 nor, as a matter of fact, gave the surprised attorney 
 thereafter any title, whatsoever. The instrument of Si- 
 mons' now unprovoked and wholly unexpected move 
 against William White, during a limited sojourn in the 
 locality of his law practice, had, by reason of certain 
 affectations relating, in dress, to the indiscriminate use 
 of a "swallow-tail" coat, obtained the appellation Bob 
 Likkum had bestowed upon him, as well as created. 
 
 "Mr. Likkum," said the startled and irate member 
 of the bar, * ' may I ask you to explain yourself ? ' ' 
 
 "If the boys git a-hold of you, outside, there," re- 
 torted Bob, jerking a thumb toward the window, "ye '11 
 find precious little uv yerself left to explain to. ' ' 
 
 The other made an effort to show increased offense; 
 but, watching Likkum, saw it was useless. 
 
 "But, Mr. White is visionary in his poetic views of 
 self-sacrifice, unselfishness and all that nonsense and sen- 
 timental rubbish," replied the professional man, drop- 
 ping all further attempt to appear dignifiedly uncon- 
 scious of the object of Likkum 's visit. 
 
'/THE WRATH TO COME." 479 
 
 ' ' Did Simons fill ye up weth that pap ? ' ' queried Rob- 
 ert quizzingly. 
 
 "Mr. Likkum — " 
 
 "Named Bob," broke in White's political captain, 
 seeing opportunity of effecting a return to the more 
 familiar and neighborly intercourse. In his own recol- 
 lection Robert had never been called anything other than 
 Bob, by his young friend. 
 
 " — I am at a loss to account for such expressions." 
 
 "Air ye! — D'ye reelly think Brad cares a whoop 
 whether White writes po'try, er not?" asked Likkum. 
 
 "We should have a representative in congress famil- 
 iar with the practical workings of the law," glibly re- 
 hearsed the member of the bar. 
 
 ' ' Did ye know that Simons wuz doin ' this only to git 
 even weth Billy, 'cause the cuss is jealous uv White, 
 'bout De Braddock?" 
 
 ' ' Bosh ! ' ' exclaimed the other. 
 
 Bob Likkum w^as as resolute in his determination to 
 let nothing interfere with the successful nomination of 
 his man, as his present companion was to maintain the 
 position in which Brad, inspired by all evil aims, had 
 succeeded in placing him. 
 
 ' ' Thet 's yer idee, is it ? " retaliated White 's unflinch- 
 ing advocate. "Well, it may be bosh, but yer '11 find a 
 bushel uv bosh to yer peck uv bad apples. Now see here, 
 young man : we got to bruise the bark to make a whistle. 
 I don 't want ter be hard weth ye, but ye b 'long to us, — 
 why can 't ye be sensible, ye mortal, ye ? " 
 
 Ambition had planted its serpent-fangs in the un- 
 wary and inexperienced counselor at law; and he 
 squirmed in another and poorly affected attempt at of- 
 fense, assumed to be taken from Likkum 's but half con- 
 cealed depreciation of the lawyer's importance. 
 
 "Did ye know," asked Bob, insinuatingly, "that Cy 
 
480 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Saunders hez a lawsuit involvin' a rich mine out in the 
 west, some'eres?" 
 
 Brad Simons, it seems was not the only one possess- 
 ing the powers of business persuasion, as will be seen 
 by Bob Likkum's prompt and effective methods as a 
 manager of his friend's interests before the nominating 
 convention. 
 
 The lawyer did not know" of any such legal proceed- 
 ings. 
 
 "7 know," observed the other's shrewd and skilful 
 manipulator who had, undoubtedly, been cannily in the 
 confidences of Saunders, the lucky gold-miner, whose 
 lawsuit was genuine. 
 
 The aspiring political bee, in the bonnet of the rustic 
 congressional beginner, ceased plainly, for a moment, 
 its aggravating buzzing. The greedy young attorney 
 sniffed the bait. 
 
 "What of it?" he said hesitatingly, at last. 
 
 "Oh, nawthin'," rejoined Bob, indifferently. 
 
 "Now, see here, — " began the other. 
 
 "Ye wouldn't, uv course, like to hev' the thousand 
 dollar fee, in the case ? ' ' added Bob Likkum, rubbing his 
 arm gently where the outlaws had "winged" him, the 
 night before ; and half turning, as if he had given up the 
 object of his present visit, and was about to depart. 
 
 "Wan — wait. Bob," ejaculated the, lawyer, affecta- 
 tion and pretense vanishing; "I don't know about that. 
 Has Saunders need of counsel, — really?" 
 
 Robert had artfully withdrawn the linchpin securing 
 the wheel of his opponent's previous inconvenient and 
 biased argument, and the latter ceased suddenly in its 
 interfering revolutions. 
 
 "He has 'reelly,' and a thousand dollars wuth, be- 
 sides," said Likkum easily, but not yet refacing the 
 fish that was playing with Bob's tempting decoy. 
 
"THE WRATH TO CO:\IE." 481 
 
 "Hum!" said the eager lawyer, clearing his throat 
 vigorously, "a thousand dollars, oh?" and his glance 
 meeting that of the convention leader's, at the instant, 
 showed the barest flicker of "game" understanding. 
 
 "Ye precious young reskel, ye," good naturedly 
 cried Robert clapping the young man on the back, "do 
 ye want it?" 
 
 "What, Bob,— which— the fee?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I think I'll take the case." 
 
 The convention had met. Brad Simons had slipped 
 in, at the rear, where standing inconspicuously among 
 the profuse and general country audience come to see 
 something — anything of interest, he watched unnoticed 
 the success of his experiment. The delegates were called 
 to order. 
 
 Likkum was temporary chairman. He rose and im- 
 pressively addressed the assemblage; when, after the 
 confusion of organization had subsided, Bob was as- 
 signed the office of placing his friend William White 
 in nomination. 
 
 Robert Likkum rose literally and figuratively to the 
 occasion. 
 
 "We are here," forcibly began the speaker, "to 
 nomynate one into whose hands can be placed, with cer- 
 tainty of success, the objects of good guv'ment," he 
 paused Anth due weight; "and pu'sonally and politi- 
 cally, neighbors, friends and feller citizens, I quiver 
 with no doubt, nur am I swayed weth no appurhension 
 fur the result. 
 
 "Thuh kentry," swiftly the determined and en- 
 thused speaker went en, "needs lots uv Billy Whites. 
 Fur why? Bee 'us'," emphasised the orator, — "bee 'us' 
 this here man White is honest-meanin'. He's sincere," 
 cried Bob loudly, noting, as he did so, the darkling coun- 
 
482 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 tenance of Brad Simons, peering above the throng in 
 the rear of the hall. ("You bet he is," shouted a voice 
 from the body of the crowd.) " — sincere — honest," per- 
 sisted Bob Likkum. ("Yes, yes," came volleying from 
 the gathering.) "I say," announced White's devoted 
 advocate, easily and appreciatively sweeping his audi- 
 ence, with an experienced view, and thinking he per- 
 ceived that popular division of time known as "the 
 psychological moment, " "I see this ain 't no time fur me 
 tuh waste words; an', ez the feller sez who tuk the 
 hog, 'Le's git at the meat.' I am here fur to speak 
 — fur to speak fur a great an' pop'lar candidate, — one 
 who's loved an' respected — one 'at's tried an' true, — 
 one 'at '11 serve ye well. Fur congurss I nominate the 
 finished scholard, the good soldier, the gallant champeen 
 uv virtue and the honored and beloved savior uv th' 
 wealth uv this 'ere community, — Mr. William Wliite. ' ' 
 
 Cheers and thunders of applause greeted Robert 
 Likkum 's really able and skilfully aimed appeal, as the 
 modest and unlettered orator took his seat. 
 
 Simons was craning his neck, for, at this point, he 
 expected a carefully prepared maneuver to be executed, 
 when his young subsidized tool would be presented by 
 a purchased speaker from White's owti ranks, for nomi- 
 nation. His way failed. There arose, from among those 
 in a thickly filled part of the hall the slender figure of 
 the young barrister, upon whom the political, cattle- 
 trading craftsman had fixed to accomplish his designing 
 and underhand purposes. 
 
 "My business engagements," announced the lawyer, 
 clearly, "are such as to preclude my permitting my o^vn 
 name to go before the convention. I move to make Mr. 
 White's nomination unanimous." 
 
 Although this motion was out of order, no final previ- 
 ous action having been reached. Bob Likkum at once 
 
"THE WRATH TO COME." 483 
 
 led off with White 's supporters cheering wildly and un- 
 controllably ; the gathering broke loose and, in the end, 
 the nomination of William White was made without a 
 dissenting voice. 
 
 The victorious candidate, forced to rise before the 
 assembled delegates and visitors present, got upon his 
 feet and opened his mouth to speak. The din amounted 
 to distraction. They dragged him from the platform; 
 when he was hustled back, as a cask buffeted one way 
 and another by the friendly inflow and outflow of a 
 bounding, noisy surf breaking upon a hospitable shore. 
 
 "Gentlemen of the convention," finally shouted 
 White, on his feet, once more, in the center of the plat- 
 form, "I thank you. I accept. Listen," he called, in 
 an attempt to hold the irrepressible spirits of the throng, 
 — "I shall stand for law — " 
 
 "We know ye will," yelled someone, in the crowd. 
 
 " — and order," continued the candidate, still an- 
 nouncing the principles of his future course in politics. 
 
 "Ye ain't a-gittin' much of it," shouted another. 
 
 "Money for many — tax for all the people; rich and 
 poor justly given benefit of tariff." 
 
 The clamor silenced him. 
 
 Presently, 
 
 "And you all know the rest about me," the nominee 
 went on. "I am for good faith and human fairness. I 
 shall not, if I can help it, say one thing or mean or do an- 
 other. If I have to tell others that I will do anything 
 for them, I will try and do what I say I will, — I will 
 not promise things I cannot fulfill." 
 
 Again the spontaneous and excited uproar arose. 
 This time, the orator was taken bodily from the speaker's 
 stand, by the enthusiastic occupants of the hall. 
 
 Brad Simons slunk away ; and William White, grasp- 
 ing firmly, with his single hand, the man beneath his one 
 
484 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 arm, held on while two, one on either side, despite the 
 soldier's laughing protestations, hoisted him and carried 
 him upon their brawny shoulders past the delegates; 
 past the shouting, yelling populace, standing aside ; past 
 De, whose glorified countenance shone like the sun 
 amidst the home folks, and an inspiring glimpse of 
 which White caught as he was borne along, and out of 
 the building and past Simons, crafty, deceitful, scowl- 
 ing and shorn of all but the glowering and tragic shade 
 of Jason Jump. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 *BOB LIKKUM's theatrical '' ANGEL." 
 
 When John Braddock Avas acquitted of the charge of 
 the murder of Zeke Smithin, he remained, at Bob Lik- 
 
 kum's earnest solicitation, for a night, in T . The 
 
 note, in the sum which Tom Bolers had forged on Si- 
 mons, was still, of course, unsatisfied. Brad, upon the 
 discovery of the robbery of Smithin, had been compelled 
 to turn the money (taken by Tom Bolers from Zeke's 
 dead body and by Tom transferred to John Braddock) 
 over to the proper authorities. 
 
 Bob Likkum was with John, in John's room at the 
 hotel. Resting in a comfortable rocking chair, with eyes 
 half shut and head reclining against the chair back, he 
 was relishing a very large, very fat and very black cigar, 
 tilted at an angle of forty-five degrees and protruding 
 from his closed lips. Bob was enjoying, in an ecstacy of 
 quiet satisfaction, the half seen spectacle of the smoke 
 from this triumph of the tobacconist's art curl, uncurl, 
 circle in rings and finally dissolve like a panorama of life 
 and roll away in space. Robert was well pleased with 
 himself. He had just quitted a friend who had assented 
 to a proposition of Robert's, looking to the solution of a 
 vexed heart-problem. Likkum would puff complacently 
 at the "fat weed," and then thoughtfully blow away the 
 "congregation of vapors" about him. He regarded, 
 
 * When a company of players is In need of funds and secures a financial 
 backer, it is said to have found an "angel." 
 
 485 
 
486 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 with immense approval, as it hung upon the adjoining 
 wall, a picture representing an extremely bloated-look- 
 ing ship, which, under the disability of a part of a mast, 
 hung in critical suspense upon the bulky crest of a huge 
 blue-black-green wave. This latter uprising of the 
 waters took broad and expansive splotches of red and 
 yellow from a be^vildering display of color in the lower- 
 ing heavens overhead and thought to be lightning. The 
 masterpiece, at times, so fascinated and dazzled Bob 
 that, at such moments, he removed his cigar and, blow- 
 ing a large cloud of smoke, whistled softly in the ex- 
 treme of his admiration. It was just after an unusually 
 prolonged whistle that Bob permitted his cigar, retired 
 from dutj^ in his mouth, to remain negligently between 
 the thumb and finger of his right hand, which he waved 
 unassumingly in John's direction as he remarked, 
 
 "Say, Johnny," Bob, in a confidential mood, grew 
 a shade more familiar than usual, "that thare feller 
 w 'at they tried, that time, tub lynch fur this Zeke Smith- 
 in biz'ness, 's a gun, you know it? — saved old Cy. " 
 
 John Braddock, rightly apprehending Bob's meaning 
 to be in the direction of a word of praise for Smoky Bill- 
 ings, and having heard of the rescue of Cy Saunders, 
 readily acquiesced in Likkum's statement. 
 
 "Yessir, " said Bob, in unaccountable digression, 
 "I b'lieve in a man alius a-standin' by his friends." As 
 Smoky Billings had never seen the father of Job and 
 Ann Mariah before the night of the rescue, the last re- 
 mark of the genial Likkum certainly appeared to have 
 no particular application, whatever. 
 
 John Braddock looked absently out of the window at 
 the lights in the village stores across the way, and was 
 silent. 
 
 "Johnny," said Bob, once more, after some moments 
 spent in contemplating, for the last time, the marine 
 
A THEATRICAL "ANGEL." 487 
 
 wonder on the wall of John's room, and it was notice- 
 able that Robert Likkum's tone was growing to be one 
 of an extremely kind and affectionate nature, "yer pap's 
 purt'y hard up, ain't he?" 
 
 John readily admitted that both liis father and him- 
 self were financially much embarrassed. 
 
 "Yes," said Bob soberly, and drawing out his words 
 with a seemingly unnatural relish of his friend's awk- 
 ward financial condition, "I know ye — both of ye — be 
 pow'rful hard up; an' no wonder, 'ith all this 'ere 
 trouble of yourn. Now, then, Johnny," pursued Bob 
 Likkum, "I'd like almighty well ter see yer thro'." 
 
 "Oh, I know that," cheerfully assented John Brad- 
 dock. 
 
 "See here," interrupted Bob Likkum, with judicial 
 sternness, and eying his man formally, "they ain't no 
 call fur ye to talk — not a bit — you jes' let me do this here 
 talkin'. I'm a pore man, ye might say, when 't comes 
 to doin' anythin' big, finansherly, an' that's th' fack — 
 like 'tis 'ith a hull sight uv us; but I'll tell ye whut," 
 and here Bob raised his voice : ' ' they is others, 'at hev * 
 got more'n me." 
 
 As though this had been an artfully preconcerted sig- 
 nal, John's door opened and an individual, combining 
 many jovial good natured traits alike of personal ap- 
 pearance and voice and manner, with a perpetual squint 
 of kindly humor in his left eye, walked in. - 
 
 "Come in, Cy, come in, — nothing private," said Johij 
 Braddock unsuspiciously and cordially. 
 
 "An'," continued Likkum, as though no interrup- 
 tion had occurred "there's the man." 
 
 "What man, Bob?" asked John looking, in a puz- 
 zled way, from Cy Saunders' good humored, twinkling 
 face to that of Bob, which preserved scarcely less smil- 
 ing characteristics. 
 
488 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "We," said Robert Likkum, who had had several 
 eonferences with the fabled Saunders since the latter 's 
 return from the flooded river, or California, or whence- 
 soever he might really be said to hail from, "are a-goin' 
 ter see this here theayter piece end right and proper." 
 
 "See here, you don't mean — " began John Braddock, 
 who had already been made aware, with the rest of 
 those of that locality, of Saunders' reputed riches. 
 
 When Bob Likkum interrupted him with, 
 
 "Yes, but I do. Cy, here, is thuh angel uv this here 
 actin ' show-troop ; th ' geenie, ' ' went on the benevolent 
 and helpful Bob, drawing on his lore and figurative 
 speech to the utter confusion of any connected or lucid 
 arrangement of rhetoric, "uv this here present lamp ; the 
 fa-bled Creesus, which is a-goin' tuh pull you and old 
 Peter Braddock and yer family 'an' all 'at in them 
 is,' " concluded the glowing and rustic philanthropist 
 with a skilful application of part of the Fourth Com- 
 mandment, "through this here i-dentical bad times " 
 
 John 's eyes filled vrith tears ; but it was true, not- 
 withstanding, and no insurmountfi lile difiiculty ^\as en- 
 countered in the way of those ample and benevolent 
 plans, hit upon by Cy and Bob for John's relief, I.»eing. 
 at length, adjusted and settled to the satisfaction of all 
 concerned. 
 
 In this generous and, it may be added, unexpected 
 manner, John Braddock 's inconvenient and unpleasant 
 debt to Brad Simons in the interest of Tom Bolers, — 
 together with the other perplexing and disheartening 
 financial difficulties imposed upon De's brother and her 
 father, too, by the unusual expenses of John's troubles, 
 —was provided for, and at least one of Brad's tighten- 
 ing and tenacious tentacles released. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 SMOKY BILLINGS OBJECTS — OBJECTION NOT OVERRULED. 
 
 It was evening, and De stood alone at her gate. Oh, 
 that her agreement with the hateful cattleman was for- 
 ever canceled! What could she do? She had promised 
 Simons; and her word was sacred. 
 
 Of course. Brad, as was usual with him in the opera- 
 tions of his crafty and treacherous villainy, had been 
 far too cunning, in any way, to leave, for De's present 
 enlightenment or warning, either trace of himself or of 
 his ultimate purpose, in the action with which he had 
 inspired the ruffianly abduction of Uncle Peter's daugh- 
 ter. "What his final intention was — whether to terrorize, 
 even spirit the girl away to some distant locality, or 
 something nameless and worse, may never be known. 
 Simons, in the wildness of his disordered passions, had 
 courted certain exposure, destruction and ruin, unless 
 the concluding object of his act had been the lasting 
 concealment of his deeds, by the continued restraint of 
 his victim within the precincts of the caverns, — if, in 
 very truth and evil destiny, it had not been meant that 
 De should never come forth alive. As it was, his baser 
 designs, whatever they were to be, had been frustrated 
 by the agency and death of the freebooter Hen; who, 
 when shot near the mouth of the cave, was on his way to 
 Brad Simons with a token taken from the person of De 
 Braddoek, by Black Hank. This token was the handker- 
 chief found by Smoky Billings. 
 
 489 
 
490 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Although unconscious of Simons' latest villainy, De, 
 nevertheless, only too well knew that the cattleman 
 would seek her at the earliest opportunity; when he 
 would demand compliance with her part of their con- 
 tract or understanding. Glancing down the road, she 
 was liot surprised to see the subject of her present 
 thoughts, Brad Simons himself, approaching, mounted 
 upon his familiar bay horse. He had come to brave it 
 through. 
 
 Much weighing of what William White had said, be- 
 fore her leaving for home on the evening after John's 
 trial, had occupied her constant thoughts. The sense of 
 recent danger shared likewise filled the soul of the im- 
 pressionable and true hearted girl with a flood of ten- 
 derness for her old lover ; and her long established faith 
 in all that he had ever been to her made his utterances 
 to sway and influence the decisions of her mind despite 
 all sense of real or fancied obligation to Simons. As 
 Brad came on, she waited to hear what he had to say; 
 but she, also, waited in a prudently reserved frame of 
 mind and in judgment suspended. And, mth it all, she 
 must keep faith! 
 
 Simons was full of sympathy. He had just heard of 
 the outrage. The long tolerated band of thieves and 
 evildoers that had disgraced the community should be 
 hunted down; and, in this last dastardly attempt upon 
 his affianced wife, — De shuddered, — find their downfall. 
 
 "Of course, De," leisurely said Brad Simons dis- 
 mounting, tying his horse, idly breaking in with com- 
 ments upon the weather, and finally advancing, ^\dth 
 easy assurance, into the yard and close to the side of the 
 already shrinking girl, — "of course, you can readily 
 understand how hard it is for me to wait." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Simons," began the distressed subject of 
 the cattleman's toils, "I — " 
 
SMOKY OBJECTS. 491 
 
 ' ' Surely, you do not mean that you have forgotten so 
 soon the escape and acquittal of your brother?" said 
 Simons persuasively. 
 
 "But, — but it is so soon," cried the girl vainly 
 clutching at straws as they sped by, and remembering 
 her promise to William White to hold this man off for a 
 time. 
 
 "Is that all?" and Brad's eyes began to glow with 
 unholy light. "De, — " he put forth his hand. 
 
 ' ' Don 't — don 't — don 't — touch — me, ' ' faltered the 
 other, in a state of despair. 
 
 "But I love you," broke forth the man, — "I love 
 you. Do you know what it is to love as I love, and, then, 
 be trifled with ? " he here leant over and the rush of his 
 hot breath burned her cheek. 
 
 De, with an effort, mastered herself. She turned on 
 her tormentor. 
 
 "You have little conception of love, Mr. Simons, if 
 you call selfish disregard of the feelings of others such. 
 You speak of love — do you know, ' ' rapidly continued the 
 girl, "what it is to love; to forget self; to live for an- 
 other only for that other 's happiness ; to have no thought 
 of self beyond the joy it gives the object of your love. 
 You love ! ' ' exclaimed the distracted and spirited girl ; 
 "you know nothing of love." 
 
 ' ' This to me, after — after what I have done for your 
 brother?" said Simons gazing angrily at his companion. 
 
 It did seem severe, but to De it had not appeared 
 more than White's caution and warning had warranted. 
 
 "I cannot talk to you, to-night," was De's scarcely 
 audible reply. 
 
 "You can talk to me, to-night, and you shall," said 
 the cattle buyer setting his teeth. 
 
 "Now, there, I never see the likes o' such a man, — 
 alius a-pipin' fur these here poor, humble services — on 
 
492 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 yer own watch, too," observed a slow, monotonous voice, 
 with every indication of constitutional and incurable 
 lack of interest in all things. "Mr. Smoky Billings, 
 ee-squire, ' ' continued the voice as in a form of introduc- 
 tion of its user to such present as might affect so de- 
 sirable an acquaintance, "alius at yer service," and the 
 foiler of Simons suddenly withdrew a cloth from the 
 farm lantern which he carried, in the first shades of the 
 night, displaying Smoky Billings' genial, stubby-beard- 
 ed countenance. "And, now," said Smoky, "we'll jes' 
 stop this here bluff o' yourn, an' end this biz'ness, 'fi- 
 nully and f'rever,' as the feller says." 
 
 Brad Simons gazed speechlessly at the calm and 
 serene face of the man before him; and broke out, at 
 length, in his painful and suffocating wrath with ex- 
 treme difficulty. 
 
 "You — you — low hound," he cried. 
 
 "See here, I ain't yer housekeeper, 'at yer kin talk 
 so perlite to me," observed the easy-going being with 
 the lantern. "Guv'nur, don't try an' keep this here 
 game up, any more. Yer can't sail, any longer, under 
 ther black flag, in these here waters. — Yer ain't no claim 
 to that 'ere lady, an' you knows it." 
 
 "You lie!" said Brad Simons. 
 
 "Them sentiments o' yourn is very genteel and ele- 
 gant," replied the undisturbed Smoky, "but what about 
 this here dockyment?" quietly added Billings, quickly 
 putting into the possession of De a paper, and flashing 
 the lantern light full upon it. 
 
 Simons catching a glimpse of the contents of the 
 sheet of writing which De held made a dash at it. 
 
 "Not quite so rapid," coolly interposed Billings, 
 "th' lady has first chance," and Smoky drew Simons 
 back with no gentle hand. 
 
 De gave a swift glance at the paper. 
 
SMOKY OBJECTS. 493 
 
 "Mr. Simons," said the girl iij tones of burning con- 
 tempt, "this is a written agreement, on your part, to 
 marry your housekeeper INIona Walker," and De turned 
 her blazing eyes upon the confounded schemer. 
 
 "You have been meddling with — it's false," cried 
 Simons checking himself in the beginning of a torrent of 
 frenzied and compromising utterances to Smoky Bill- 
 ings. 
 
 Simons fiercely turned on De. 
 
 "You are trying to break faith with me," stormed 
 the cattleman to the girl, — "you," he made a spring 
 to De's side — "you are mine and I will have you." 
 
 "Not this evening," composedly said Smoky, adroit- 
 ly getting a leg behind Simons, and, with an accompany- 
 ing shove of his strong arm, sending the stock raiser 
 sprawling upon his back; where he lay, in a vain at- 
 tempt to rise, with his feet aimlessly kicking in the air, 
 as Uncle Peter, with mother in the rear, appeared at the 
 door exclaiming, 
 
 "Wliat's the matter?" echoed by Esau coming from 
 the barnyard. 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 THE HARVEST MOON. 
 
 Our story has drawn within its embrace no personage 
 of greater or more meritorious consequence, than that 
 picturesque, wandering, haphazard and Gypsy-like 
 character who has become fixed in the attention of the 
 reader under the curious appellation of Smoky Billings. 
 
 The real name of this ex-sailor and knight of the 
 road has never been known; and no record stands to 
 prove that Smoky could have ever earned greater laurels 
 under any other title of a former state of existence. 
 
 As anticipated by Simons, Rachel Bolers had suc- 
 ceeded in securing possession of the marriage agreement. 
 HoAV she had contrived to do so, it scarcely matters 
 for the purpose of this story ; though, doubtless, the act 
 was accomplished through favor of Jump. Actuated 
 by her undying hatred of De's persecutor, a hatred that 
 had the abuse of her own offspring as a foundation, 
 Rachel had taken the agreement to Mona; who, in the 
 full knowledge now of Brad Simons' faithlessness, at 
 once agreed to the use of the compromising cAadence for 
 the defeat of the unworthy intentions of the debased 
 cattleman. Smokj'' Billings had secured the paper on 
 the night of the rescue of Cy Saunders from the flood. 
 
 From the day when, a tramp straying on the roads 
 and in the highways and byways of the Hoosier state, the 
 devoted sailor was pounced upon by a mob and saved 
 by De Braddock, to that when, after the most unyielding, 
 
 494 
 
THE PIARVEST MOON. 495 
 
 ceaseless and tireless efforts, he had unearthed the means 
 of her liberation from the dread toils of Brad Simons, 
 Smoky was De's sworn knight and faithful defender. 
 Smoky Billings, as we shall continue in honor and fame 
 to call him, had no soul, no heart, no one single thought 
 but of love and adoration for De Braddock. She was to 
 him a goddess set afar upon her own bright pedestal; 
 and one for whom it would, at any time, have been to 
 Smoky a joy to freely, gladly die. The worship of his 
 divinity partook of no earthly character of the flesh. It 
 was as if a spirit of rare and surpassing beauty and ex- 
 cellence had descended upon his vision and, from the 
 moment of first sight, had enthralled his spirit, and 
 made of it a slave, faithful, adoring, loving, worshiping 
 forever. And even after he had so signally aided in the 
 crushing defeat of Brad Simons, in the latter 's designs 
 upon the worthy mariner's divinity, Smoky Billings 
 made of De a final and triumi^hant issue, in that com- 
 munity, for the attainment of the highest aims of which 
 he was capable of conceiving. 
 
 And now flickering uncertainly in the light of com- 
 ing events the shadows weary are nearly at rest. 
 
 The parson was coming down the road one evening. 
 The harvest moon silvered the parson's high, straight, 
 black beaver, and crept around under the narrow, flat 
 brim of the same, and caught his face at the edge of the 
 shadow cast by the brim, and ran down his nose with 
 loving brightness, and silvered his smoothly shaven face 
 and chin and, then, proceeded to envelope him, from 
 head to foot, in a mantle of silvern sheen. He rode on, as 
 a parson should ; for, he was going to make one of a num- 
 ber of invited guests to gather at the house of Peter 
 Braddock. He clucked to his sorrel, and said "Geddup ;" 
 and the sorrel, paying no attention, continued in the 
 same slow and unbroken gait that, with the parson as 
 
496 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 rider, had marked the ways of the parson's steed since 
 Woods had been known to travel those roads. And with 
 him rode Mona Walker close to his side. And while the 
 minister is drawing to Martha Braddock's ^'evenin','' 
 here and there upon the various highways, appear other 
 figures bound for the same genial and hospitable occa- 
 sion. Like the Wise Men of old, they come, in their sev- 
 eral ways, to meet at the Star of Martha. We see the 
 democrat and roan, and Bob Likkum and Ann Mariah, 
 with all the color of the universal laboratory of the rose 
 dyeing that fair damsel's cheek, for a feeling is, at last, 
 hers that the hour has come, and all beneath the harvest 
 moon! And, here, too, the roads show approaching, all 
 converging to dear and kindly Mother Braddock's, many 
 other wayfarers — the shining countenance of Job Saun- 
 ders, whom his father has set up on a farm of the for- 
 mer's own; and the similarly beaming features of the 
 Widow Walmsey, whose amazing corn-colored silk, flow- 
 ered in Indian red, scarcely bedims the dazzling glories 
 of Job's highly fashionable splendors of attire, — the bell 
 crown hat, at last, rests in revered and honorable retire- 
 ment in the garret; and here is Cy — Cy Saunders, him- 
 self, the returned — the lucky gold miner and John's 
 friend — he is just drawing up to the gate, where Uncle 
 Peter stands and shouts, ' ' Hello ! ' ' till you could hear 
 him at Chicago; and Hiram Braddock is on hand, quite 
 well again; John and his wife and little Nanny, — who 
 has a new doll, the gift of "Aunt De," — have come up 
 for a sight of "the old folks at home;" and Rachel Bo- 
 lers, too ! and here is the figure of Author White, coming 
 up the road, and following closely behind is another — his 
 faithful friend and ardent admirer, Smoky Billings. And 
 the harvest moon winks jovially (for has not that har- 
 vest moon reserved its most effective and artful snares 
 and arrangements for later hours, and knows its own 
 
THE HARVEST iMOON. 497 
 
 specially appointed time ! ) ; and, at last, a very fat farm- 
 boy enters Mother Braddock's parlor, making an effort 
 to effect a way for one other who keeps dutifully in line 
 in the fat farmboy's rear — Esau has a captive to his 
 bow and spear — the throng of invited guests open right 
 and left, and down the lane of wondering faces moves, 
 with dignified and easy tread, the fat farmboy, with — 
 no? — yes! — well, — Avith a fat farmgirl coquetting and 
 blushing and making coy attempts at that ease and grace 
 only befitting a hitherto unknown fat farmgirl out for 
 the first time in the knowledge of man or woman wdth 
 her young man; for none had ever seen the farmboy's 
 partner before. And so was Esau's unusual state of 
 excited and blissful exaltation, manifested at irregular 
 periods of late, accounted for. 
 
 And the singing and dancing, and the apples and 
 the cider, and cake of De's own special brand! In 
 story-telling, Cy Saunders made Bob Likkum a close 
 second — though in possibly a more thrilling and excit- 
 ing vein ; and told stories of Indians, and lonely prairies, 
 and grizzly bears, and fights with wild animals and 
 human ones scarcely less wild, — and carried on until the 
 men admired, and made no attempt to conceal it, and 
 the women gave vent to innumerable "Ohs!" and 
 "Ahs!" and stifled little screams and cries of affected 
 and terrified surprise, and Esau, sitting by the fat farm- 
 girl, was seen to place a secure and protecting arm 
 around a farreaching waist trembling and quaking in 
 feminine anxiety and distress like some vast bowl of 
 jelly in its highly wrought reception of these awesome 
 tales. 
 
 "Gentlemen and ladies," said Robert Likkum, rising 
 in his most formal manner and affording his audience 
 a last opportunity, in the present narrative, of listening 
 to one of his very finest and most celebrated deliveries, 
 
498 THE CAVERNS OP DAWN. 
 
 "a-mong the most promynent and important of sich 
 things as have occurred, we are happy, in the langwidge 
 of the noospaper editorial writer, to a-nounce the re- 
 cent and bril-li-unt-ly successful ree-ception," Bob 
 flourished grandly upon these last words, "of the splen- 
 did story writinV' with a sense of making up for once 
 unfavorably criticising the same, "of our disting'ished 
 and renown-ed," again preening the very finest of his 
 oratorical plumage, "naybor, friend and brother," this 
 latter word appealing to Robert's fancy as containing 
 the essence of something particularly fraternal, "Mr. 
 William White, now pree-sent," and Bob Avaved a grace- 
 ful recognition of William's "pree-sence" in the midst 
 of the company, "whose noble contribooshun to the 
 literatoor of this here great and glorious country is now 
 a-bein' read with a-vidity an* eagerness wherever Eng- 
 lish," said Bob, who had prepared his remarks, like most 
 "impromptu" speakers, beforehand, "is read er ap- 
 preciated." 
 
 ' ' The back counties, " it is within the province of the 
 present historian to state, "had been heard from," and 
 William White was a famous novelist. 
 
 "I feel," continued Bob, looking with benignant 
 approval upon De, who had colored with pleasure under 
 the praise so worthily, as she thought, bestowed upon 
 her old lover, — "I feel," repeated Bob impressively, 
 "that this 'ere kump'ny 'u'd not take it kind ef we did 
 not try to ad-e-kwately express our fittin' sense of grat- 
 i-fi-eation in the possession of so emynent a friend and 
 awthur ; an ', ef my friendly hearers 'uU purmit this here 
 o-raytor (which meant orator) to illustrate these here 
 ree-marks uv ple'zure an' congratulashuns, I will tell 
 you how the man weth the load of cobs done it." Lik- 
 kum, who could not have finished a public address, with- 
 out a story to illustrate it, paused, with much dignity, 
 
THE HARVEST MOON. 499 
 
 and, in the manner of a professional speaker, impressive- 
 ly sipped a glass of water, wliich had been setting before 
 him, on a table, while all were subdued with a sense of 
 interest becoming the pending one of Bob's famous 
 anecdotes. "This here man," resumed Bob, after a 
 moment of pleased silence had prepared all to hear what 
 was coming, "w'at I speak uv weth th' load uv cobs, he 
 wuz a gen'l'man," said Bob, with an apologetic air as- 
 sumed in a manner which detracted none from the merits 
 of his tale, "who cussed, and was a purfane man, and 
 swore drefful. Well, this here man was noted in the 
 nayborhood fur this pecooliarity of his'n, and all the 
 unregen'rate kentry, roun', wuz 'customed to gather, 
 when opportoonity offered, to list'n to this gen'l'man 
 swear. This man, onetime, he had a load uv cobs, he 
 did, an' he -woiz a-'proaching a steep hill with his load 
 uv cobs, and the boys, a-rememberin' th' old feller's 
 cussin' pow'rs, they played a trick on the gen'l'man to 
 hear him at his best. When the gen'l'man, he got to 
 the foot of this here steep hill, he paused to rest his 
 bosses, and the boys, they, unbeknownst to the gen '1 'man, 
 they slipped up, they did, and they drawed the eend 
 board uv ther gen '1 'man's waggin frum its fast'nin's, 
 and w'en the gen'l'man, he driv' up ther hill, them 
 cobs they strowed the kentryside fur miles, aroun'." 
 Bob paused, smiled pleasantly upon his open-mouthed 
 auditors, and went on. "The gen'l'man, he driv' on up 
 the hill, onconshus, an' w'en he got to the top of the 
 hill, he nach'ly stopped ter draw his breath; an' them 
 boys had kum up through the bresh on each side uv the 
 hill, an' onperceived, wuz arrived at the top. W'en the 
 gen'l'man weth the cobs, he paused at the top of the hill, 
 and removed his hat, and wiped his fur 'head weth his 
 ban'anner han 'chief, fur the day wuz hot, — the gen'l'- 
 man, he chanst ter look about him, an' he ketched sight 
 
500 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 uv one of them mischief makin' boys in ther bresh, at 
 the top uv the hill, who waz a squintin' thro' frum his 
 hidin' place ter see whut 'u'd happen; and a suspicion 
 stole thro' the mind uv the gen '1 'man, an' he looked 
 aroun' fur ter see w'at had bekum of his cobs, and he 
 seen 'em gracefully a-ornamentin' the hillside, weth a 
 clean, spick-span, empty waggin bed behin' him. It 
 was mos ' awful ; but the gen '1 'man wuz ez silent in his 
 reception uv this 'ere cat-as-trofy as the solumn toomb, 
 fur a min'it', an', then, he calls out to the fellers, 'at 
 he know'd wuz k'lected ter hear him throw off prize 
 cattle purfanity, 'No use, boys, I can't do the subjeck 
 justice!' An'," wound up the orator, with a style of 
 rolling if a trifle dubious ending, "my friend, Willium, 
 we has met here, together, to-night, to celebrate the in- 
 credible success of a book writer, which you are; but," 
 added Bob, in happy application of the story of the 
 "gen'l'man" and the cobs, "no use, we 'can't do the 
 subjeck justice," and Bob Likkum sat down amid great 
 applause; and, "Hear, hear," from Cy, who brought a 
 breath of the parliamentary outside world with him; 
 and much amused laughing, and, "Good, good, Robert," 
 from Parson Woods, capably sustained by a bland 
 "Very well," out of the mouth of jolly Father 'Gor- 
 man, whom De had thoughtfully included in the festivi- 
 ties. 
 
 William White responded fittingly, in the quaint and 
 engaging style following : 
 
 "A fairy tale," said he, and proceeded: "Once 
 upon a time, there was a poor peasant. Where he lived, 
 it is not needful to say, except that, as I have said, he 
 was a peasant; and, as peasants belonged, in the olden 
 times, to the countries across the seas, he must have lived 
 near some enchanted forest in the old world. This peas- 
 ant, you must know," and little Nanny Braddock was 
 
THE HARVEST ]\IOON. 501 
 
 paying very close attention, with the others, "was called 
 Jabez Grosholm. Jabez had a wife; who, in her turn, 
 being a loving and devoted helpmate, was about to pre- 
 sent her goodman with an heir. Now, Jabez was of a 
 wandering, adventurous disposition; and, one day, was 
 led to leave home by a great desire to amass riches." 
 This seemed a hit at Cy Saunders, but he didn't mind it, 
 — no, indeed ! ' ' So, while he was gone, ' ' continued Will- 
 iam, "a tiny son was born. Near to where lived the 
 Goodwife Grosholm, likewise abode Garth Marktwine. 
 The latter was a thrifty, saving soul ; staid at home, and, 
 together with his own wife, could show against his 
 neighbor's destitute hut, a comfortable well kept place; 
 where, as to Jabez' peasant mate, had come the stork, — 
 though a cunning mite of a girl was left at their door. 
 Now, here, happened the wonderful part, — really, al- 
 most too strange to be true, although it is sworn to by 
 honest peasants and their neighbors throughout the 
 country ; and, to this day, they will show you many mar- 
 velous things preserved in proof, including a fairy foot- 
 print at the doorway, for, you see, the fairies, after- 
 ward, came to see them — but we are getting ahead of our 
 story. 
 
 "As the first faint cry of the wee wayfarers was 
 heard, there appeared suddenly at the hut of Marta 
 Grosholm the most astonishing and wonderful bit of a 
 creature you most ever laid your eyes on. Any of you 
 would have given anything to see it. It was a little man, 
 not much taller than an egg spoon, and he walked with 
 so much dignity and even fierceness, — for he seemed 
 indignant about something, — that, really, you felt like 
 you had to get out of his way. He strode right into the 
 room — there was only one, and a cuddy hole for a bed — 
 without so much as knocking, stepping through a rent 
 at the bottom of the door, where the cat was accustomed 
 
502 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 to come in and go out. Notwithstanding all this lack of 
 ceremony, he had left a coach and six outside, of such 
 size that it would have filled all of a large gourd — one of 
 those bigger ones, you know, that 's larger than the 
 smaller ones. Yes. And more than that," and, here, 
 little Nanny came in for the narrator's special attention, 
 while the interest of the "grown-ups" was curious to 
 see, — "and, more than that," continued the entertainer, 
 "it is just clear to me, that this was no ordinary per- 
 sonage. Who do you think it was? I'll tell you: It 
 was King Scraumtheroons, the ruler over all the Fairies, 
 and the giver of all blessings when babies are born. 
 Would you believe it? Fact. Well, Mrs. Grosholm was 
 nearly mortified to death; for, you remember, she just 
 naturally didn't have a thing in the house to eat; and 
 the King of the Fairies just gave a bounce and was on 
 the table and seated on the bottom of a bright brass 
 kettle, for all the world like he had come to stay. 
 
 "He rapped the kettle smartly with something that, 
 I guess, was a scepter; and, anyway, it tinkled on the 
 side of the kettle like a tiny, tinkling bell, 
 
 " 'Madam,' said his majesty, with royal condescen- 
 sion, while Marta Grosholm looked most scared to death, 
 *do you know who I am?' 
 
 "Marta was just as ashamed as she could be because 
 she didn't know; and she told his majesty so, and begged 
 he wouldn't think hardly of her. 
 
 "He, thereupon, very considerately told her that he 
 would not. 
 
 " 'But where is your husband?' he asked, this time 
 sharply, and rapping the kettle, once more. 
 
 "The poor woman had to confess he had gone away 
 to hunt a fortune. 
 
 "This desertion of poor Marta must have been what 
 
THE HARVEST MOON. 503 
 
 had made the King of the Fairies so fierce, when he first 
 came into the room, for he said instantly, 
 
 " 'Aha! that is it, — and you are here all alone? I 
 thought so.' 
 
 " 'Have you anything to eat?' questioned the royal 
 visitor, — I think, don't you know, more to find out 
 whether the little baby's mother would be able to keep 
 the two — the little baby and herself — alive, than any- 
 thing else ; — but, not to hurt her feelings, you know, he 
 went on very quickly, 'for we have traveled far and 
 fasted. ' 
 
 "Mrs. Grosholm was appalled at the thought; super- 
 naturals, too, — would they not eat more than any hu- 
 man being could give them ; and she had, as it was, only 
 a poor handful of meal ! However, she must not let the 
 guest beneath her own humble roof go hungry, without 
 an effort to supply his wants. The King of the Im- 
 mortals watched Marta closely, while these things were 
 going through her mind; and, believe me, having the 
 power, of course, to read people's thoughts, he was 
 touched; so, you see, he had not come entirely to touch 
 her. You do not believe this, but it's all true ! 
 
 "Marta rushed, they always do, you know, when 
 they're in a hurry, in stories and out of them, — but she 
 did — she rushed over to her neighbor's, the Marktwines, 
 — for they had plenty, you see, — to borrow a frying pan 
 and a piece of bacon. And what do you suppose she 
 found there ? You never would guess. She found Queen 
 Scraumtheroons, sitting in with the mother and little 
 girl-baby Marktwine. The little boy had fallen to the 
 king's share, and the little girl had fallen to the queen's. 
 Well," went on William, having the whole night before 
 him, ' ' do you know what they did ? I '11 tell you. They 
 whisked everything right over to the less prosperous 
 dwelling of Marta; for the elfin enchanters are always 
 
504 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 kind and considerate of the poor and least favored — 
 baby Marktwine, mother and everytliing, frying pan and 
 bacon, — it all went to Marta's. 
 
 "The queen got on the table, and the king made a 
 place for her on the bottom of the brass kettle ; and then 
 it became clear what he and the beautiful queen were 
 tSiere for. 
 
 "They were there, of course, to preside over the 
 destinies of the coming generations; and after they had 
 eaten the bacon, which they did, not forgetting some for 
 their coachman and hosts, and relished it, they conferred 
 together and his majesty spoke. 
 
 " 'And when,' he said in conclusion, tinkling his 
 scepter upon the brass kettle, 'these, our youthful 
 charges, are old enough as children, once a year tliey 
 are to come to our domain of Fairyland, at midnight, 
 when we hold our court, in the forest, ' and, their present 
 mission ended, away went King and Queen Scraumthe- 
 roons much to the wonderment of all, and a purse of 
 gold, of course, was found under the kettle where they 
 had been sitting. 
 
 "So, Never-neverland became the future of these 
 honest folk. 
 
 "And the children, by and by, went to visit the 
 Fairies. When night would come, at the end of each 
 year, the parents fixed them up with bows of blue ribbon, 
 and neat white frocks, and giving them directions down 
 by the brook and the big tree, which the little people of 
 the wood had given to the older people, they saw, with 
 perfect faith and confidence, the boy and girl set out 
 alone, for the king and queen of the Fairies had said so 
 should it be. 
 
 "And in the midnight in the wood, where the moon, 
 as is the way with Fairies, made Fairy noon, the two 
 children, hand in hand, emerged upon a glade, where 
 
THE PIARVEST MOON. 505 
 
 bluebells grew and daffodils and buttercups. And lilies 
 of the valley hung their wee bells down, and a tiny, tiny 
 clapper made a silvery chime, by the little hand of the 
 sprite that rang the note; while winsome, lissom elves 
 gaily sported on the surface of a merry, dancing cas- 
 cade of gleaming, moonlit waters flashing and spark- 
 ling over lichen-covered rocks, and falling, splashing 
 musically, upon a bed of greenest, softest mosses. 
 
 "So, hand in hand, the two children, with eyes like 
 stars and wide and large, came, in timid, hesitating won- 
 der, into this region of enchantment ; when, from her 
 throne of frosted calla lily cup, came the sweet and 
 gentle queen of all these blithe and dainty little men 
 and women. The brave king sat stately, next the dear 
 queen's calla lily, upon a mushroom draped to the 
 ground, as it was, with cloth of gold sewn thick with 
 brilliant gems. The lovely consort of the royal ruler, in 
 this informal, loving way, brought, as a mother would, 
 the fluttering souls before the throne of grace, and the 
 great king said : 
 
 " 'Go with them, good my queen, that they may 
 see.' 
 
 "And so they w^ent and saw the glories of his king- 
 dom. And when they had seen all the rest, they paused 
 before a group of Fairy children, who played games; 
 trundling hoops made of moonbeams; playing ball with 
 buds and blossoms, and all the while filling the glade till 
 it rang with glad and joyous frolic and sounds of laugh- 
 ter, song and mirth. 
 
 ' ' ' They fight and stratch, ' lisped the little girl to the 
 Fairy queen, 'where we tum from, w'en they p'ay. ' 
 
 "And the queen, saying this was wrong, gave them a 
 book, and that book remains, to this day, to guide the 
 race of man and woman and of children. 
 
 "Ajid the Fairies gathered in a happy band and 
 
506 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 flew away, bearing these mortal children to their earthly 
 dwelling place; and when the peasants' offspring, in 
 their cots, at home, wakened in the morning, they told 
 their parents and the others all this tale of marvels. 
 
 "The book, in silver letters on leaf of gold, had be- 
 come the thought of all the ages; wise men from every- 
 where making pilgrimage to the locality where such wis- 
 dom may be found. 
 
 "When the boy's father returned, having found 
 riches, he was strangely perplexed as to what to do with 
 his hoard of wealth. His son, growing taller day by day 
 and casting longing and favored eyes upon the neigh- 
 bor's beautiful daughter, showed to the sire The Book. 
 
 "In it the rich man read: 
 
 " 'Give unto others, that ye may, yourself, receive; 
 the pleasures you preserve unto your kind are those of 
 life eternal.' " 
 
 By some with silent appreciation ; by others with en- 
 thusiastic applause, and by all with pleasure and in- 
 terest, was William White's simple effort received, illus- 
 trating, also, as it did in its closing, the true office of 
 his own profession — literature. 
 
 And all the while the harvest moon had not its own 
 knowledge and the knowledge of all the other moons in 
 the world for nothing, and could afford to wait; for it 
 was, indeed, a wise old moon and knew its own victims. 
 And its knowing chuckle was as slyly satisfied as ever in 
 its long, ancient and enterprising career, when first one 
 and then another shy, awkward and self conscious viewer 
 of its scandalous games and snares and pitfalls came, for 
 a spell of courting, creeping and stealing and slipping 
 forth from smiling Mother Braddock's door, that night. 
 It was, in truth, a shameful harvest moon, adding to its 
 silvern complexion a dangerous golden hue as the night 
 drew on apace; and was forcing the old, time honored 
 
THE HARVEST MOON. 507 
 
 business in the most reckless manner. It nearly fell 
 down from its saucy perch, when Esau and the fat farm- 
 girl came forth; but soon smoothed away its merriment, 
 — which, after all, it has always been observed, is but the 
 healthful sauce to the meat, — and an atmosphere of con- 
 cession w^as allowed to arms stealing about w^aists; and 
 hands squeezing other hands, and — the harvest moon did 
 very well, and placed a discreet hand before its honest, 
 old face — lips stealing closer and closer to other lips ! 
 ' ' that old sweetheart of mine ! ' ' Riley knew. 
 
 "De, hear the river!" said William White, in tones 
 of subdued appreciation. They had walked upon the 
 road and w^ere returning. Nothing was in sight to break 
 the still and perfect harmony of the hour. The plash 
 of the river, subsiding after the recent freshet, was dis- 
 tinctly audible. Anon, the cry of a night bird broke, in 
 note of deep and minor cadence, upon the air. The 
 vague shadoAvy outline of distant wood accentuated 
 landscape and moonlight. The lovers, for could ever 
 any different state exist between them, moved slowly 
 down the moonlit road. 
 
 "Job has come into his inheritance," said De, with 
 shy self consciousness. 
 
 William laughed softly. 
 
 "And Esau, poor Esau!" ejaculated the girl gently, 
 moved to sensations of mirth, but too tender hearted to 
 let her sense of humor, stirred by a recollection of the 
 fat boy's recent sentimental and romantic courtship, 
 have vent. 
 
 ' ' The discovery, ' ' said White, a little less considerate 
 than his sw^eetheart, ' ' of the nineteenth century. ' ' 
 
 Silence — the night bird's call — a song, by Cy, of the 
 wild- west border, floating out in the night! 
 
 "And, De, I — have I — have I come into mine?" 
 
508 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 "Your — your what, William?" replied the other in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "My 'inheritance.' " 
 
 "Your inheritance, William?" murmured the girl 
 under the spell now surely beginning to creep over two 
 souls, — "your inheritance was your genius and its 
 achievements — you have come into that." 
 
 "But the rest of it, De, — oh, all the rest?" 
 
 The harvest moon — golden, now, full golden, oh! 
 miracle — hung in generous and tender sympathy still 
 and grave above, shedding its flood of lovely, trans- 
 lucent light over the fluttering spirits below; which even 
 now instinctively rose to those divine rays of solemn 
 glory, clinging hopefully, trustfully to their strong and 
 enduring support. 
 
 "The rest, William?" 
 
 "Yes — the rest — you," said the man. 
 
 * ' I was always yours. ' ' 
 
 That harvest moon could not cease without one more 
 piece of scandalous behavior; and so Esau and the fat 
 girl were distinctly laughed at, by the outrageous old 
 rogue, when the fat farmboy, after much exertion, 
 triumphantly planted a kiss upon the lips of the fat 
 maiden, and ran, in lubberly haste, from the side of his 
 victim to escape the infliction of instant and condign 
 punishment at her hands. 
 
 Bob has closed the game, after many years, with Ann 
 Mariah, and is coming in from the wood afar with his 
 prize ; and Job has secured the widow. 
 
 And now, before the night is over, all are once more 
 gathered within dear old Uncle Peter's cheery parlor, 
 with Mother Braddock beaming at the old gentleman's 
 side ; and we look in at the open door and take one last 
 fond farewell, ere, forever, the scene shall fade and van- 
 ish in the loving haze and maze of years. 
 
CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 GOODBY. 
 
 The native force of William White's thought, in a 
 district of undeveloped ideas ; the prestige of honorable 
 character, — war service and success; the unexpected 
 popularity resulting from the restoration of its stolen 
 wealth to the community, and, on White's part, a desire 
 to test some of his views in an effort to improve the con- 
 dition of the people, obtained for the celebrated writer 
 political favor. The opposition now wanted Jason 
 Jump's acute cunning; and Brad Simons was rapidly 
 losing caste. The election came off; and Benjamin Grigs- 
 comb was among the first to gracefully congratulate 
 William White upon a triumphant victory. 
 
 To Washington, therefore, were De and William, now 
 married, come; the beautiful woman inspiring and aid- 
 ing every elevated and generous thought which her hus- 
 band might entertain for the advancement and develop- 
 ment of humanity. 
 
 And to the side of the ideal couple come the humble 
 friends of home. 
 
 First, Bob Likkum stands forth, and the blushing — 
 blushing! of course, she's blushing — why not? — she's a 
 bride — oh, the blushing Ann Mariah. Bob and Ann are 
 on their "weddin' tower," for Bob says so, and Bob 
 knows. 
 
 And the Honorable William Wliite recognizes the 
 true state of the case. 
 
 ' ' Bob, — why, Bob, — and Ann — Ann Mariah 1 oh, 
 
 509 
 
510 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Ann, it's happy ye air," exclaims William laughingly 
 and justified, on his ovm part, by a specimen of dazzling 
 and wondrous womanhood presiding over his perfect 
 Washington establishment, where the happy couple from 
 home is being heartily welcomed, — "so you and Bob 
 finally did it ! Well, well, Bob, you see it 's everywhere, ' ' 
 and William, continuing to smile happily, waves his one 
 strongly knit hand in the direction of De, who stands 
 softly glowing at her husband's side, her eyes shining, 
 her chestnut hair drawn, in wondrous waves over her 
 ears, and a bunch of marvelous red roses in the bosom 
 of her orange-colored silk. 
 
 Ann feels it incumbent to blush, again, and looks so 
 demure and sweet, in her own turn, in her old fashioned, 
 corn-colored, straw poke bonnet and white ribbons and 
 pearl gray dress, that Bob needs no approval of any 
 other than his own feelings to justify the act which has 
 brought him and Ann Mariah to Washington. 
 
 "Yes, Bob," says William, as Robert and Ann Ma- 
 riah take their leave, "it shall be done — Job Saunders 
 shall be postmaster," and Ann Mariah is happier, if 
 possible, than ever. 
 
 Uncle Peter and I\Iartha both lived until they saw 
 Wliite and De in the fullness of time in Washington, 
 "managin'," as Uncle Peter put it, "the affairs of con- 
 gurss. " Mother Braddock and Peter passed a happy 
 and peaceful time together, after that. In fact, Peter 
 did not leave Martha, for many comfortable years; but, 
 a decade after the old stock had reached the three-score- 
 years-and-ten of earthly mortal limit, it happened to 
 present itself naturally to the old man at this advanced 
 and good old age, that he had ' ' a call to die, " as he said, 
 and, obeying the "Lord's will," he died. Mother Brad- 
 dock followed, shortly after. 
 
 Parson Woods visited Washington in company with 
 
GOODBY. 511 
 
 a lady, as his -wife, who has figured effectively in this 
 story. IMona Walker, the former housekeeper of Brad 
 Simons, and who had preserved, in all and perfect truth, 
 a stainless character in the cattleman's service, discover- 
 ing the intolerable and innate villainy of Simons ' nature, 
 yielded to the suit of Parson Woods and became the wife 
 of the worthy pastor. The parson and the attractive 
 lady whose affections he had won were cordially enter- 
 tained by William and De ; and Mr. and Mrs. Woods re- 
 turned to Indiana with a lively sense of the greatness 
 and importance of their national representatives. The 
 parson and his true and loving helpmate continued long 
 to confer blessings upon their community ; and have left 
 a memory for unselfish service among the people of their 
 flock, that fills, with the odor of true sanctity, the region 
 of their former lives. 
 
 The earnest and worthy Father Patrick 'Gorman, 
 at the little rectory, went on with the work of saving 
 souls according to his light; and passed away in an at- 
 mosphere of pious and happy remembrance. 
 
 Job, in recognition of old Cy, his father, and his own 
 reformed merit, was eventually made postmaster at 
 
 T , through William White; and Job's wife, once the 
 
 Widow Walmsey, continued to be the harmless envy and 
 the pattern of the social circles of the rural neighbor- 
 hood. Job made a good public officer ; and his father, old 
 Cy Saunders, was heard to say, "That Job Sa'nders 
 should have a good slice of his (Cy's) money." The re- 
 turned western miner did not forget gentle, faithful 
 little Ann Mariah; but, like a practical, shrewd old fel- 
 low that he was, drew his own conclusions touching the 
 fidelity and worth of patient Ann's devotion to the old 
 home, during Cy's absence fortune hunting; and, on 
 hearing the neighbors discourse eloquently upon the 
 theme of Ann Mariah 's desert, made an allowance for 
 
512 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 Ann in his ■vdll, which would leave her comfortable for 
 all time ; and Ann, being so informed by her thoughtful 
 parent, must, of course, think only of the good fortune 
 this would, some day, through her, bring to Bob, and 
 flew to tell that humorist of the latest circumstance. And 
 Bob Likkum, may his memory ever grow greener! and 
 sweet Ann Mariah long flourished; and old Cy had 
 chubby grandchildren until his days were full of them 
 and contented blessedness; when he, too, was gathered 
 to the joys and the delights of his own fathers. 
 
 Well, well, now, how about Esau and the fat girl? 
 Ah, there is a subject of delight, as we regretfully near 
 the end! White and De were enabled, before William's 
 retirement from public life, to contemplate the budding 
 bliss in matrimonial days of the fat farmboy and his 
 plump consort ; and were among the very first to present 
 marriage gifts to the blooming young couple. The ap- 
 pearance of a fat and rosy infant, the result of this last 
 named union, was hailed with great gladness and much 
 feasting and joy by all friends, neighbors and well wish- 
 ers of the hearty parents. 
 
 John and Nance Braddock, with little Nanny, throve ; 
 and John, at last, grew to be one of the most prosperous 
 and successful business men of his community, and paid 
 old Cj' to the last dollar. 
 
 Rachel Bolers never wanted; and William and De 
 were forever and always her friends. 
 
 But who electioneered so effectively for William 
 White, when in the heat of his political canvass; who 
 was it kept the ball rolling, on the score of a man who 
 had a wife like De ; who was it roused the neighborhood 
 and neighborhoods in such a way that it is recalled to 
 this day in all that district, — and did it with such tire- 
 less and untold enthusiasm, — to love and respect for a 
 woman with courage that would stand for justiqe with 
 
GOODBY. 513 
 
 life — for a woman whose influence could be counted 
 upon with a husband representing the deep and sacred 
 principles of fireside and family, in the national halls 
 of congress — a woman whose life was the life of White's 
 every act, and who made it, finally, so patent that Will- 
 iam White wasn't to be the representative, at all, but 
 De was to be, that they really had to elect William White 
 in order to send De to congress? Who was it? Why, 
 Smoky Billings. 
 
 White purchased a good farm in Indiana ; and Smoky 
 took charge of it, and lived always in comfort. He 
 never entertained other opinion of great men, than that 
 drawn from his own ideal, William White; and con- 
 tinued to idolize De and a little boy that came to her and 
 William. 
 
 The nest of outlaws was broken up ; and Brad Si- 
 mons' dealings with them being finally discovered he was 
 forced to flee the country, and all trace of him became 
 lost; until the news came, one spring, that he had been 
 killed, somewhere in the west, while cheating at cards. 
 
 But the phantoms and the shadows were not yet 
 laid. 
 
 One day, William White, upon a visit home from 
 Washington, had taken De and, lovers ever, had driven 
 out to the old mill, where the congressman and Smoky 
 Billings had once passed through a season of dangerous 
 and apparently unproductive observation of the now 
 disbanded and scattered criminals. De and William had 
 been blessed with a child, a son, a bright and handsome 
 lad now seven years of age — their one imperishable star 
 of hope and love, and who, on this occasion, made their 
 cherished and precious companion. It was a beautiful 
 evening in the early fall. The leaves were changing 
 their hues, and the mild and gentle air blew softly upon 
 
514 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 the cheek, still damasked as of old, which, with its happy 
 owner, nestled closely to her husband's side. A strange 
 and unaccountable impulse had prompted the famous 
 man, author and publicist, to revisit this scene of former 
 days. The thin, silver crescent of a young new moon 
 hung in the quiet evening sky, as they neared the wild, 
 picturesque spot where stood the dismantled, tumble- 
 down ruins — reminder of his old adventure. The dark 
 outlines of the ruined and deserted mill, amongst the 
 rocks and crags and trees of former days, blent in soft, 
 dusky picturings against the silent heavens. The dry 
 ledge of rock over which the miniature falls made its 
 laughing, sparkling way, when the neighboring stream 
 was full, and recalled by William White in its situation 
 near the mill, was now covered with a dancing, rolling, 
 glancing sheet of water from a plentifully supplied 
 channel above. De, — who was as ardent in her love of 
 the poetic and the beautiful as was her lover-husband 
 himself, — and the boy were in raptures at the singular 
 wild and desolate beauty of the scene. 
 
 Something told White that a discovery was at hand; 
 but restrained him from speaking of what underlay the 
 real object of their trip. He had deemed it useless be- 
 fore, at any period of mutual trials in the past, to enter, 
 with his wife, upon those speculations which had pos- 
 sessed his own mind in this one of his and Smoky's af- 
 fairs, and which had, likewise, absorbed his thought in 
 connection, as well, with things he had learned since 
 his own service had begun at the nation's capital. 
 
 They entered the interesting ruins. The walls of the 
 building, now in many places fallen away, gave entrance 
 to the fading evening light. William White had provided 
 a lantern which, lighted, enabled them to make their way 
 over the rough, uneven flooring — here and there lacking 
 boarding. White had told De of the robbers' haunt; of 
 
GOODBY. 515 
 
 his own witness of their meeting, that night, in the 
 mill, when he and Billings were bent on probing tlie lives 
 of the outlaws, but had, as perceived, been silent upon 
 certain surmises which had succeeded in gradually creep- 
 ing into his own understanding. Rats scurried before 
 them, as they proceeded over the uncertain floor of the 
 deserted and abandoned building; and a forlornness im- 
 possible to describe possessed and haunted the place. 
 
 A theory of search and investigation led White to 
 where the rotting and disused old millwheel still clung, 
 in fragmentary reminder of its days of long past use- 
 fulness, and visible from within through the crumbling 
 wall. As he and the companions of his strange visit 
 neared the rear of the disordered premises a broken 
 lantern — readily recognized by the curious visitor as, 
 in all probability, the one kicked over and shattered by 
 the endangered offender before the outlaw court — was 
 seen lying near, the glass crushed and scattered about 
 and the wires, enclosing the lamp, bent and twisted; a 
 condition of things testifying graphically to the deadly 
 and determined energy with which the menaced victim 
 had asserted his efforts for freedom and escape from the 
 ruthless judgment of his former direful and threatening 
 custodians. 
 
 "William White turned to the mother and the child. 
 
 * ' See ! ' ' said he swinging his own lantern at the 
 spot; ''here is w^here the man stood under sentence of 
 death; hereabouts, where those passing judgment upon 
 him were," and he examined the rough boards constitut- 
 ing the rude flooring of the place to discover, if possible, 
 the footprints, which the thick layer of dust might ren- 
 der natural of presence, of the vanished outlaws. 
 "Look," exclaimed the intent novelist, "there are their 
 footprints, ' ' and there they were, — undisturbed ; the 
 
516 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 place unvisited, in all this time, — sheltered by the huge 
 millstone. 
 
 De and the boy Edward — the latter naturally filled 
 with the wild spirit of youthful adventure — surveyed 
 these evidences of the past, with thrilling and absorbed 
 interest. 
 
 And thus do things pass away like a tale that is told." 
 
 Time, the great effacer of all things material and im- 
 material, was bedimming this page of the great writer's 
 earlier experiences. Four successive terms, served in 
 congress by White, had intervened between the present 
 and the outlawry and the criminal reprisal of the time 
 of Jason Jump. They had been hardworking terms. The 
 representative of the people had seen some of the seeds 
 of good faith, which he had patiently and loyally sown, 
 blossom and bear fruit. And, from his investigations 
 and research at the seat of national affairs, it had form- 
 ed, in the gradual process of his trained literary mind, 
 as a sure and logical intuition, that the paper he had 
 seen the robber perusing, on that memorable night eight 
 years before, must surely have had some value as a rec- 
 ord not only of the life of him who read it, but of a 
 phase of unfair human society. The criminal and out- 
 lawed reader he had now finally judged to be one whose 
 career, at Washington, had been singularly blameless, 
 until, driven by the abuse of representative government, 
 he had followed in the wake of the long and melancholy 
 procession of rebels against temporal injustice and be- 
 trayal which, victorious or otherwise, stretches back 
 across the dim, endless and forgotten pathway of the 
 history and of the ages of the human race. 
 
 If White and Billings had judged the mysterious doc- 
 ument from which, on the night in the mill, they had 
 caught apparent expressions delivered by the outlawed 
 
GOODBY. 517 
 
 leader, connecting suspicion with the possible murderer 
 of Ezekiel Smithin, — if they had, then, supposed the 
 paper, in this way, to have been capable of supplying 
 evidence important to John Braddock's acquittal. White 
 himself had now been long since convinced of the cor- 
 rectness of the jury's real finding — which, it should be 
 remembered, had, in no sense, implicated the outlaws. 
 Therefore, Jason Jump — whom he, at last, felt assured 
 was one and the same with Black Hank, could, in the 
 present investigator's conclusions, have had no complici- 
 ty in Smithin 's death. But what, in that case was the 
 further meaning of this unexplained paper? And in the 
 additional endeavor to satisfy this query he had come 
 out to the old mill, hoping to find the robber's record. 
 
 He found it — found it carefully secreted beneath the 
 enduring rock of the place, — hidden away in a crevice 
 under the old millstone. It was the diary of Jason 
 Jump. It was the requiem sung over a broken heart and 
 a shattered life. No memory of the past breathed pleas- 
 ant hope for the future. It was the tragedy of human 
 things. It wailed aloud in universal and empty space. 
 
 "You framers of codes," it read; "you makers of 
 laws; but, beyond all, you judges and dissemblers in 
 the pretended dispensation of justice, from bench, from 
 legislative hall, and from the critical housetop of public 
 and false profession, look you out! for the hour cometh 
 and this handwriting is on the wall : ' The people cry 
 in the wilderness, and their lamentation is bitter, and 
 their lamentation is death!' " 
 
 In another place, there was an impassioned reference 
 to "the rebellion of George "Washington against his 
 English home-rule government." 
 
 ' ' George Washington, ' ' it said, ' ' was a rebel against 
 the insufferable and insupportable injustice under which, 
 at the hands of his country, he groaned. Had he failed, 
 
518 THE CAVERNS OF DAWN. 
 
 he would have been gibbeted and his memory been made 
 odious for all time. He succeeded against the law. He 
 goes into the march of the ages, leading as a god and 
 embalmed, in the reverend and sacred purity of the his- 
 tory of a country he had so heroically and materially 
 assisted in making, as a representative, in the imper- 
 fection of the earth, of the ideal of perfection and per- 
 fection's honor." 
 
 Over one portion White lingered. 
 
 ' ' The Smithin case ! " it said ; * ' what can I be charged 
 with in that ? I did not kill Zeke Smithin. Conscience ? 
 stuff!" 
 
 But, still, in this strange, mysterious character, con- 
 science had never wholly died. There were blind, almost 
 incoherent appeals to standards and authorities of hu- 
 man conduct, in an apparent and hopeless attempt to 
 ease the saddened casuist's bruised and bleeding soul. 
 After seemingly fruitless efforts to satisfy the course of 
 action into which the injustice of events had driven him, 
 — Jason Jump, outlawed victim of his times and the 
 unworthy rule of his land, began his conclusion in the 
 words remembered by the peruser of this unsparing 
 posthumous national and universal arraignment : 
 
 "And shall I add the Smithin case? Why not? His 
 murder is as much upon my soul as if I, indeed, had com- 
 mitted it. I missed the time and place of his expected 
 passing or his blood, too, would have been upon my 
 hands and upon the hands of those who drove me to it ! " 
 
 They read the story of the life of the outlaw chief- 
 tain; and the child was told never to leave the path of 
 honor, love, duty and unselfishness. 
 
 Sobered and saddened, De and William and Edward 
 left the old mill, with its mournful history, and saw the 
 crescent of silver, in the silent heavens, symbolizing their 
 own peaceful loves and eternal, enduring faith. 
 
GOODBY. 519 
 
 ' ' Our honeymoon — still our honeymoon, sweetheart, ' ' 
 said the young wife, shyly, 
 
 "White, as he drove back, reverted to the night in the 
 flooded cave, when they had watched the dead outlaw; 
 who, in his lifetime, had written the sheets that they had 
 just read. As, in the time of that stress of danger and 
 threatened destruction, De had whispered to her lover, 
 so she now whispered : 
 " 'William?' " 
 And so did William answer, 
 
 'Best beloved?' " 
 " 'Did the man do his duty?' " 
 'The dead man?' " 
 'The dead man.' " 
 'God help him!' " 
 And so they laid away, forever, Jason Jump ; and the 
 shadows ceased from troubling, and the weary was at 
 rest. 
 
 ' The mao-ic reel has run its length." 
 
 "While out of this that death shall ever leave be- 
 hind, spring flowers of immortality and promise ; ' ' and, 
 in the vision of the future, William White could see all 
 changed; and the defeated outlaw rebel's victory was 
 in a recreated land and laws and justice ; when, from out 
 the darkened caverns of the brooding night's long, toil- 
 ing past had come the glorious dawn of love, duty and 
 unselfishness. 
 
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SFP 14191 
 
 FEB 2 19 
 
 JViAti 151918 
 
 SEP 13 IC! 3 
 
 WAH 2 II,;, 
 
 
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