BY 
 
 MAURICE- 
 'HOMPSON 
 
 VINCENNES"


 
 OF CALIF. LIBRAM, LOS MG 
 
 THE KING 
 
 OF 
 
 HONEY ISLAND 
 
 BY 
 
 MAURICE THOMPSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "ALICE OF OLD VINCENNES," ETC. 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1892, 1893 and 1896, 
 BY BOBEBT BONNEB'S SONS. 
 
 (AU, rigKtt reterved.) 
 
 THE NEW YORK LEDOCK, 
 NEW YORK.
 
 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SOME INTRODUCTORY ADVENTURES. 
 
 ULES VERNON with his wife, who 
 was much younger than himself, and 
 his only child Pauline went to the 
 Vernon plantation house, or Vernon 
 Place, as it was called at Bay Saint 
 Louis, to spend some months. There 
 were few residents on that wild, 
 lonely and lovely shore in those days; 
 for our story begins at the time when 
 war with England, commonly called 
 the War of 1812, was at its high-tide. 
 Why Mr. Vernon had sought this isolation will be 
 disclosed, perhaps, in due time ; at present we must 
 be content to know him with only such a glimpse of 
 his character and motives as circumstances permit. 
 He is a man of giant stature ; and his face, almost 
 
 2133564
 
 8 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 covered with grizzly beard, wears that look of rugged 
 strength which perfect health often gives to the 
 countenance of an aged man whose life has been 
 spent at sea. His shoulders are square-set and pow- 
 erful, his head large, shaggy, leonine, his arms heavy 
 and muscular. When he laughs, there is a sugges- 
 tion of sea-roar in his voice a mellow hoarseness 
 not unlike the beating of long swells on a reef. 
 
 His wife is a bright, clear-faced, volatile Creole, 
 just beginning to show the lines of age in her pretty 
 face, albeit her hair is almost snow-white. 
 
 As for Pauline, she is lovely, a girl to catch the 
 eye and heart of almost any man, with her regular 
 features, her expression of modest simplicity, lighted 
 up with a charming vivacity, her plump, supple fig- 
 ure and her luxuriance of shining hair. 
 
 Here they are, these three, living for the time a 
 life of utter loneliness in a large, rudely built house, 
 in the most out-of-the-way nook to be found on the 
 wild gulf coast. 
 
 It was not as strange as it seems romantic, that 
 they were thus isolated ; for in those days men ven- 
 tured without fear and risked everything without 
 hesitation. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was a very rich man, who, since he 
 abandoned sea-faring life, had been one of the 
 chief leaders of affairs in New Orleans. His busi- 
 ness relations had been many and far-reaching. 
 Perhaps he now wished to get rid of some of them, 
 and had come to this lonely plantation with the 
 hope of breaking away from entanglements which 
 had become irksome to him.
 
 SOME INTRODUCTORY ADVENTURES. tf 
 
 But it is impossible in this life to know just how 
 we may slip away from disagreeable entanglements, 
 or just where and when we are to encounter the 
 persons who shall cast the strongest influences into 
 our affairs. 
 
 A tall, slender, emaciated, but yet seemingly vig- 
 orous old man, one stormy March night, sought the 
 hospitality of the Vernon household. Of course, as 
 was the old Southern custom, they took him in, 
 although his actions were mysterious to the point 
 of suggesting a doubt as to his sanity. He had 
 crossed the bay in a little open boat, which capsized 
 with him near the shore ; and when he entered the 
 house it was evident that he had suffered much. 
 Next morning he was ill, and for many days he 
 seemed at the point of death. 
 
 In this extremity, he confided his life-secret to 
 Mr. Vernon. Simply told it was this : His orphan 
 grand-daughter, a sweet and beautiful girl, while 
 yet scarcely more than a mere child, had been 
 influenced by a daring young scapegrace to elope 
 with him and become his wife. This was in Scot- 
 land. The old man, who gave his name as Max 
 Burns, did not disclose the name of his grand- 
 daughter's abductor. Perhaps he had good reasons 
 for keeping it a secret ; but he went on to tell 
 a touching and almost incredible story of how he 
 had spent many years and a large fortune in trying 
 to find and in some way take back his wandering 
 grandchild Margaret. The young man, immedi- 
 ately after marrying the girl, took her to Italy, 
 where he became a robber. The grandfather fol-
 
 10 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 lowed him, only to find that he had fled to Spain. 
 There, too, he was an outlaw ; and after some 
 years of picturesque and terrible adventure, he was 
 so closely pushed by the authorities that he left the 
 country and was next heard of in San Domingo. 
 From there, at length, he came to New Orleans. 
 
 All this time Max Burns, who was a Presbyterian 
 preacher, had followed him as best he could, making 
 every effort that money and tireless energy could 
 sustain to capture the man and regain Margaret. 
 
 And now, almost penniless, his fortune dissipated 
 in his vain endeavors, his health badly broken and 
 with old age gripping his vitals, he was once more 
 close upon the object of his long and apparently 
 hopeless quest. 
 
 " And so," he went on in a feeble, panting tone, 
 " just as I can almost reach him it seems that I must 
 die. Oh, Margaret, Margaret !" and he lay gazing 
 at the ceiling as if in prayer. 
 
 The story was so strange that, told under the 
 peculiar and pathetic circumstances, it filled the 
 hearts of the Vernon household with inexpressible 
 sadness. 
 
 No one hearing the old man speak could doubt 
 the truth of what he said ; there was the unmistak- 
 able stamp of sincerity and deep, absolutely poig- 
 nant feeling on every word as it came from his 
 feeble lips. 
 
 But contrary to every probability, Burns got well 
 and departed as mysteriously as he came, going off 
 on foot in the direction of the Pearl River and 
 Honey Island, a region which at that time was the
 
 SOME INTRODUCTORY ADVENTURES. 11 
 
 home of a robber-band the most desperate and 
 powerful ever known in our country. 
 
 The old saying is it never rains but pours. Scarcely 
 had old Max Burns gone away leaving behind him 
 the almost weird impression of his strange story 
 and of his mysterious personality, when another 
 wanderer thrust himself into the life of the Ver- 
 nons ; and this time it was a young man of distin- 
 guished bearing, handsome, winning and withal not 
 devoid of most that goes to add romance to char- 
 acter. 
 
 Pauline had been out to the cabin of one Lapin, 
 the overseer of her father's slaves, to see Lizette, 
 the overseer's daughter, who had been ill. Return- 
 ing thence on horseback and followed by a negro 
 groom, she was making her pony gallop briskly 
 when at a turn in the path he suddenly scared, 
 whirled about and flung her off. 
 
 The object which had frightened the fiery little 
 animal proved to be an easel roughly improvised by 
 an artist who had been sketching a cluster of moss- 
 hung trees. The artist himself was near by, and 
 ran to Pauline's assistance. 
 
 The fall, though hard, had rather dazed than hurt 
 the astonished girl, and before she fairly realized 
 what had happened, she found herself upborne in 
 the arms of a strange, handsome young man, who 
 held her as if she had been a little child. 
 
 " Are you hurt ?" he inquired, his face close to 
 hers, his eyes tenderly regarding her. 
 
 At first she could make no answer, and she was 
 too weak from fright to struggle. The groom has-
 
 12 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND, 
 
 tened to the spot ; but seeing his young mistress in 
 the possession of a stalwart, heavily armed white 
 man, was afraid to say a word or move a hand. 
 The pony freed of its burden, had run home at full 
 speed, and the thoroughly frightened negro after 
 glaring a moment whipped his own cob and rushed 
 away in the same direction, leaving Pauline a help- 
 less captive in the clasp of her rescuer. 
 
 Mr. Vernon chanced to be at the house when the 
 groom, wild-eyed and gasping, arrived with his but 
 half-coherent story of the adventure. 
 
 " Pierre Rameau !" he hoarsely cried in a half- 
 whisper. " Pierre Rameau done got Miss Pauline ! 
 Oh, de good Lor', de good Lor', Marse Vernon run 
 dar quick !" 
 
 Mr. Vernon did not need to be twice told. He 
 snatched a brace of heavy pistols, mounted the 
 groom's horse and galloped toward the scene of 
 the tragedy. 
 
 Pierre Rameau was a terrible name in the Gulf- 
 coast region in those days, more terrible even than 
 that of John A. Murrell became a few years later. 
 Indeed, Rameau was reputed to be the leader of all 
 the robbers, pirates and Creole forbans in the whole 
 Southwest. His deeds had hung a fascinating mist 
 of romance about him which appealed to the imag- 
 ination of the people. 
 
 Little wonder, then, that Mr. Vernon felt, as he 
 urged the clumsy horse along the vague bridle path 
 under the trees, a terrible whirl of mingling and, so 
 to say, crashing emotions. His daughter was his 
 idol ; he worshiped her as only an aged man can
 
 SOME INTRODUCTORY ADVENTURES. 13 
 
 worship an only child, the offspring of a belated 
 marriage. 
 
 Pauline in the hands of Pierre Rameau ! The 
 thought was absolutely unbearable, and yet it had 
 to be borne, at least for a few minutes ; and the 
 strain upon the old man's feelings showed in the 
 swelling veins of his neck and forehead as he leaned 
 forward over his horse's shoulders and seemed try- 
 ing to pierce the dark, thick woods with his gaze. 
 
 When he turned a sharp curve of the way and 
 looked down a straight stretch between heavy live- 
 oaks and under gray festoons of Spanish moss, he 
 saw something which, as a picture, hung ever after 
 in his memory. 
 
 It was Pauline walking side by side with a tall 
 young man, who, armed like a brigand, with rifle 
 and pistols, and bearing an artist's portfolio, saun- 
 tered with the careless ease aud grace of one at 
 home in any place. The two seemed quite on 
 good terms with each other, and were coming 
 toward Mr. Vernon, who checked his horse in time 
 and glowered darkly at them. 
 
 Pauline ran forward to meet her father, her face 
 beaming. 
 
 " Papa, this gentleman is Mr. Fairfax, of Virginia ; 
 when my pony tnrew me a moment ago, he came 
 to my aid." She spoke rapidly and in French. 
 " He is an artist, and is staying at Monsieur 
 Vasseur's. I hope you will thank him for his kind- 
 ness to me." 
 
 The young man came up just then, and Mr. 
 Vernon bent upon him a steady, searching look.
 
 14 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " Are you Mr. Burton Fairfax, sir ?" he demanded, 
 putting away the pistol that he had been holding 
 for deadly use. 
 
 "Yes, sir." Evidently the young man was sur- 
 prised. His face showed it. 
 
 " The negro told me that a robber had caught my 
 daughter, so I was scarcely prepared to see the son 
 of my old friend, Colonel Stirling Fairfax." 
 
 Mr. Vernon had regained perfect composure, and 
 was now smiling kindly. 
 
 " You knew my father ?" inquired Fairfax. 
 
 " Many, many years ago, in England. We were 
 the best of friends, and I am proud now to see his 
 son and to thank him for his gallant kindness to my 
 daughter." 
 
 "You give me the deepest pleasure," Fairfax 
 said, the strangeness of the situation preventing a 
 clear understanding of it. 
 
 " Your mother was a Burton," Mr. Vernon went 
 on. He dismounted and took the young man's 
 hand. " Fine old families, the Burtons and the 
 Fairfaxes fine old families. Glad to take your 
 hand, sir." 
 
 Pauline stood by, looking on. It was a picturesque 
 group, and evidently the young girl felt deeply the 
 romance of the occasion. Her feelings heightened 
 her beauty. 
 
 Mr. Vernon pressed the young man to go to Ver- 
 non Place, and the three walked thither along the 
 woodland road, the horse following after them. 
 
 When they reached the house, the two gentlemen 
 were quite like old acquaintances. Mrs. Vernon
 
 SOME INTRODUCTORY ADVENTURES. 15 
 
 was glad to see the son of her husband's old friend, 
 and thus Fairfax found himself the center of charm- 
 ing- attentions. 
 
 It was like a leaf from some old romance, like 
 being cast into a nook where the poetry of life still 
 survived and where scarcely a ripple of the new 
 order of things was ever heard. 
 
 Rich, fatherless, motherless, without a tie to bind 
 him to any spot, the young man, after much travel 
 and many adventures, had come to New Orleans, 
 whence, in search of whatever was new or sketch- 
 able, he pressed on into the wilderness, and finally 
 found his way to the lonely shore of Bay Saint 
 Louis, where he was glad to make his home for a 
 time with a queer little fellow, Vasseur by name, in 
 a rambling old backwoods house overlooking the 
 beautiful water. 
 
 Vasseur was an enigma to the young adventurer 
 and as such very interesting. He was very dark, 
 could speak English, but brokenly, and in many 
 ways his actions suggested a past life not above out- 
 lawry. Indeed, in those days it was safe to assume 
 that every man in all that remote region, whose 
 character and antecedents were not known, was a 
 refugee from justice of a lurking predatory mis- 
 creant of one class or another. 
 
 All the furniture and belongings of Vasseur's 
 house hinted at plunder ; all of the man's actions 
 had about them an atmosphere of furtiveness. 
 
 To pass suddenly from such surroundings into 
 the charming circle of the Vernon household was a
 
 16 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 change which gave emphasis to the effect, and it 
 caught the young man's imagination at once. 
 
 And how was it with Pauline ? 
 
 A young girl under such circumstances does not 
 analyze her feelings, and who shall do it for her ? 
 
 She sat in the spacious room, and instinctively 
 her chair was drawn close to her mother. Her 
 heart was full of vague happiness, and any observer 
 could have seen that she was quite unconscious of 
 her beauty. Her expression was all attention, for 
 every faculty of her nature had assumed a recep- 
 tive attitude ; and while Mr. Vernon and Burton 
 Fairfax discussed the ancient social relations of the 
 Vernons, the Fairfaxes and tho Burtons, she found 
 a most satisfying pleasure in the details, although it 
 would have been quite impossible for to explain 
 why. 
 
 Fairfax gladly accepted an invitation to take 
 luncheon at Vernon Place ; indeed, it required a 
 little heroism on his part to refuse Mr. Vernon's 
 urgent request that he remain in the house during 
 the rest of his sojourn on the bay shore ; especially 
 hard was it to hold out against the hospitable 
 insistence of the ladies, who, in the good old 
 Southern style, joined in pressing him to stay. As 
 it was, he took his departure late in the afternoon ; 
 but Vasseur's was not so far away that he could not 
 come back every day if he saw fit. 
 
 If he saw fit ! Did a young man ever fail to see 
 fit to go back under such circumstances ? Vernon 
 Place was better in every way than Vasseur's ; Mr. 
 Vernon was a more interesting man than Vasseur ;
 
 SOME INTRODUCTORY ADVENTURES. 17 
 
 Mrs. Vernon was a charming woman ; and Pauline 
 certainly Pauline was lovely, even if she did not 
 talk much. 
 
 The young man left a very pleasant impression 
 in the household. So pleasant, indeed, that it wiped 
 out for the time all memory of the old wanderer 
 who so lately had occupied almost their entire 
 thought. 
 
 Pauline, after bidding good-by to Fairfax, ran to 
 her own room and watched him go away. He had 
 put on again his belt and pistols, his pouch of 
 drawing-materials and his broad hat. The rifle 
 across his shoulder gleamed bravely in the sunlight. 
 
 We could but laugh at such a display of weapons 
 in our day ; but then it was different. The wonder 
 is that a man could feel quite safe even when thus 
 apparently over-armed. 
 
 To Pauline there was no suggestion of the 
 bravado of mere outward pretense in the appear- 
 ance of Fairfax, nor ought there to have been. The 
 times were tragic enough. War between the United 
 States and Great Britain was already progressing in 
 the North and at any moment might be transferred 
 to the Gulf coast. Not only this, but all the law- 
 less men of the remote and to a degree unprotected 
 regions were taking advantage of the disturbed 
 state of things to redouble their defiance of local 
 authority. The spirit of violence was in the air, and 
 an unarmed man was an exception to a prevailing 
 rule. 
 
 The vivid imagination of Pauline Vernon caught 
 an impression from the young man's showy arma-
 
 18 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 ment quite different from what such a vision would 
 produce in the mind of a bright girl of our day. 
 To her came a thrill of the romance in the midst of 
 which she was living. She was not self-conscious 
 enough or sufficiently trained in self-analysis to be 
 aware of the source from which the glamour came ; 
 but she felt her right to enjoy to the full the deep 
 and rich though elusive charm of the moment. 
 
 She watched the young man until he passed out 
 of sight, then closed her eyes, the simple-hearted 
 maiden that she was, as if she could thus shut in 
 forever the fascinating picture.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 VASSEUR AND HIS JEWELS. 
 
 As Fairfax walked back toward Vasseur's, he was 
 filled with a sense of indescribable satisfaction. 
 The whole world just then was, so far as his feelings 
 went, condensed so that all its essential delights 
 were pressed together in this lonely nook, as flower 
 petals are sometimes pressed into a. potpourri. 
 
 He was old enough and certainly stalwart enough 
 to be a man his age was twenty-six but just now he 
 sauntered and smiled like a great pleased boy. His 
 latest adventure had been of a sort to dash into his 
 experience a good strong element of the tender 
 strain of romance so dear to young men. 
 
 Who doesn't like mystery and lovely girls ? Cer- 
 tainly Fairfax did not hesitate to acknowledge to 
 himself that he was fascinated, not alone by the 
 beauty and sweetness of Pauline, but as well by the 
 air of mystery which seemed to envelop in a way 
 the Vernon family. 
 
 How did Mr. Vernon know that he was the son of 
 the late Col. Stirling Fairfax ? Of course, our 
 young friend was not aware of the means of knowl- 
 
 [9J
 
 20 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 edge sometimes possessed by a man whose wealth 
 and peculiar influence control far-reaching and 
 comprehensive combinations of force and intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 From Mr. Vernon he had heard the story of old 
 Burns, the preacher, and that, too, was adding its 
 thrill of strangeness and pathos to his reflections. 
 
 But most of all, he thought of Pauline. Her 
 beauty of form and face had captivated him, and the 
 sound of her voice was yet echoing through his 
 heart with a certain timbre which no other voice 
 ever had. She had touched his hand, and that 
 touch was there yet, continuing its delicate thrill. 
 A breath of violet perfume, perhaps from a cluster 
 of the blooms on her bosom, lingered in his nostrils. 
 Moreover, he felt the exhiliration which comes but 
 once in any lifetime that waft of nameless and 
 almost meaningless delight in oneself because of 
 one's mere knowledge of another's existence. 
 
 It was pasit sundown when he reached Vasseur's, 
 and he heard the mocking-birds fluting tenderly in 
 the magnolias as he entered the low, oddly construct- 
 ed house. A little way off, the sea was pounding on 
 the beach with a heavy throbbing and swashing. 
 
 Vasseur himself met him at the door. 
 
 "Mo'sieu has had a good day, I hope," the little 
 creole said, in his soft, insinuating voice. " It vare 
 fine wetter zis day." 
 
 Fairfax looked down at him with a comprehensive 
 smile, but only nodded a response. He flung aside 
 his burden of implements and weapons. 
 
 " Mosieu is vare 'ungry, is it not ? Suppaire it
 
 YASSETJR AND HIS JEWELS. 21 
 
 come soon," Vasseur went on, rubbing his brown 
 little hands together and grimacing violently. 
 
 " No ; I dined late and well," said Fairfax, in 
 French. "I am not at all hungry." 
 
 It was one of Vasseur's hobbies to speak English. 
 He pretended to fancy himself quite at home in 
 that language. 
 
 Fairfax had become sincerely fond of the little 
 dark man, whose restless eyes, bushy, black hair 
 and singularly mobile mouth in some way reminded 
 him of the descriptions he had read of certain fas- 
 cinating outlaws famous in Martinique men of 
 half or quarter breed, at once gentle, soft-voiced 
 and murderous, who would die for you one day and 
 rob you the next. 
 
 Vasseur looked no particular age. He was fifty, 
 perhaps, though not a gray hair or a wrinkle pro- 
 claimed the years. A long, narrow forehead, 
 slender black brows, deep-set black eyes, a high 
 straight nose, a mouth small and expressive and a 
 protruding chin made his face one to be remem- 
 bered. In stature he was below the medium, but 
 he was strong, tough, supple, restlessly active. It 
 would seem contradictory to add that Vasseur's 
 general air was that of extreme indolence, but such 
 a contradiction existed in the man's make-up. He 
 was not indolent, and yet his greatest activity was 
 seen through an atmosphere of languor and 
 indifference. 
 
 Fairfax found Vasseur's house a delightful lodge. 
 It was built of pine logs and covered with long, 
 rough boards ; its rooms, large and airy, were yet
 
 22 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 huddled in appearance, and seemed to have no 
 system in their arrangement. The floors there 
 was but one story were of dried mortar, smooth 
 and even, and the walls were hung with a great 
 variety of dressed skins, while the chairs and tables, 
 the bedsteads and the armoires were of every grade of 
 finish, from a rude stool to the most exquisitely 
 carved piece in mahogany. It was plain that this 
 heterogeneous furniture had been obtained, piece 
 by piece, in the course of a life devoted to snatch- 
 ing treasures from the sea ; flotsam and jetsam had 
 found their way into the house of the Creole ; and 
 the mishaps of others had in this degree, at least, 
 contributed to his enrichment. The reputation of 
 having once been a pirate clung to Vasseur, though 
 he stoutly denied it. But how came he by all the 
 odd and valuable things in his possession, espec- 
 ially the precious stones ? These latter he had 
 shown to Fairfax diamonds, rubies, emeralds, 
 topazes, sapphires, opals, amethysts hundreds of 
 them, none of the more precious ones large or very 
 valuable ; but still, in the aggregate, the lot was 
 worth quite a pretty sum. One amethyst, however, 
 was remarkably large and beautiful, and had been 
 cut to the form of a cross ; the workmanship showed 
 that a master hand had done it, and the color of the 
 stone, almost a sapphire blue, was exquisite, clear 
 as a summer sky and as transparent as the purest 
 water. 
 
 If Vasseur loved anything with passionate stead- 
 fastness, it was this treasure of jewels, and above 
 all, the amethyst cross was prized nay, indeed it
 
 VASSEUK AND HIS JEWELS. 23 
 
 was worshiped. This he kept separate, inclosed in 
 a much-soiled but sound old leather case, which he 
 carried in an inside pocket of his waistcoat. 
 
 It amused Fairfax to encourage the man in his 
 raptures over the beautiful stone cross ; and, like 
 any other man with a hobby, Vasseur was delighted 
 to find an appreciative listener, while he expatiated 
 on the merits of his property : but when Fairfax 
 demanded the gem's history, its owner suddenly 
 became confused for a moment and had some trou- 
 ble to resume his air of half-jaunty indifference. 
 
 Of course, this was not surprising ; it only led 
 Fairfax to suspect that there was a good deal of 
 truth in the rumor about Vasseur's antecedents. 
 The man said that he bought the cross in Seville ; 
 but Fairfax thought he saw that it was not a very 
 clear lie that he was telling. 
 
 That night something happened which caused 
 Vasseur's jewels, and especially the amethyst cross, 
 to enter as an important factor into the body of our 
 story
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 THE CAVALIERS. 
 
 At the time of which we write, there was a road, 
 or, more correctly speaking, a trail, leading from the 
 west shore of the bay of Saint Louis in a direction 
 somewhat west of north through a wild country to 
 the wilder region of the upper Pearl River. This 
 trail, which was known as the Black-wolf Trail, had 
 been a highway for the Indians as far back as tradi- 
 tion went a road which led from their hunting- 
 grounds to the breezy bluffs of the gulf, where they 
 spent the hot season, like the philosophers that 
 they were, in bathing, fishing, eating and smoking. 
 
 Since the coming of the white men, the Black- 
 wolf Trail had been put to other uses. Soldiers, 
 horses and cannon had followed it ; caravans of 
 settlers, with their oxen, their mules, their slaves 
 and their household appliances, had made it the road 
 to new homes and a life of hardy and lordly inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 Large plantations were opened and comfortable, 
 
 even spacious and, in a degree, luxurious houses 
 
 built on the beautiful and fertile lands once tilled 
 
 by the aborigines, whose descendants still skulked 
 
 [24]
 
 THE CAVALIERS. 25 
 
 in the swamps and held the fastnesses of cane-brake 
 and cypress-jungle all around the coast. 
 
 Many other trails, less distinct and more meander- 
 ing, came into the Black-wolf Trail on its way 
 from the highlands to the coast, and he was an 
 alert and experienced woodman who could go 
 among these crossing and apparently entangled 
 paths without bewilderment. 
 
 In those days, all of the ways of the woods were 
 ways of danger ; for not only were the Indians 
 treacherous and savage in the extreme, there were 
 white men more to be feared than the red ones ; 
 reckless knights of adventure devoted to a life of 
 titter lawlessness bold riders whose dashing ex- 
 ploits would have been themes of song and story if 
 done some centuries earlier Claude Duvals, Robin 
 Hoods, Wolfstanes of the new land, all seeking the 
 excitement of desperate emprise, and all defying 
 every word and letter of law, human or divine. 
 
 The wood-paths were know to these men as 
 familiarly as the cow-paths of his father's farm are 
 known to the country lad to-day in the same region. 
 Singly or in small parties, these self-reliant free- 
 booters rode beneath the pines and the wide-spread- 
 ing oaks ; the wary Indian heard their horses' feet 
 beating the yellow sand and their careless songs 
 echoing through the brakes. It was not for the red 
 man to attack the outlaws ; a sort of bond held 
 between them, both being enemies to the settlers. 
 Moreover, the Indians feared the " riders," as 
 they named them, and were glad to slink away
 
 26 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 whenever those picturesque cavaliers made their 
 appearance. 
 
 Most of the " riders " made pretense of being 
 traders, buyers of cattle, furs, skins, cotton, negroes 
 anything, indeed ; and sometimes they did buy, 
 when buying seemed safer than taking by force ; 
 but robbery in one form or another was their main 
 business. 
 
 Their operations extended over a wide area, and 
 included all manner of theft and robbery, from the 
 " holding up " of a traveller to the forcible seizure 
 of slaves, cattle and other property on the planta- 
 tions from Georgia to Louisiana. 
 
 Pearl River, as far up as Honey Island, afforded 
 a waterway by which vessels of considerable draft 
 could be used to bear the plunder of the cavaliers 
 to New Orleans, by way of the Rigolets and Lake 
 Pontchartrain ; and the " traders " who managed 
 these vessels shared in the rich profits. Indeed, no 
 small part of the traffic of the city at that time 
 came from this and somewhat similar sources. With 
 the Lafittes, the de Jourdains and the Mascots on 
 one side, and the confreres of Pierre Rameau on the 
 other side, New Orleans was fed by constant 
 streams of ill-gotten wealth. 
 
 As for Rameau and his immediate associates, 
 they preferred, for prudential reasons, to do most of 
 their boldest and most remunerative work at a 
 long distance from their headquarters ; wherefore, 
 a greater part of the booty, especially stolen slaves, 
 shipped down Pearl River came from Alabama, 
 Georgia, Tennessee, and even as far away as the
 
 THE CAVALIERS. 27 
 
 Carolinas, while in the country round about Honey 
 Island, within a radius of fifty or sixty miles, people 
 and their property were not molested to any great 
 degree. It was this policy, enforced by Rameau, 
 which had so long protected him and his followers ; 
 for while common rumor established him as king of 
 the island, and kept afloat startling stories of his 
 prowess and daring, almost nothing had been done 
 toward investigating the situation. The main fact 
 was that wealthy and influential men in New 
 Orleans, large sharers in the unholy revenues, were 
 standing behind the outlaws and affording them the 
 protection which it was so easy to give so long as 
 the power of the civil and military government was 
 almost paralyzed in Louisiana, and so long as these 
 very citizens controlled directly or indirectly the 
 government itself, either by corrupting the officials 
 or by holding official positions themselves. 
 
 With a glance at the foregoing slight sketch of 
 the situation of things in the Gulf-coast region, the 
 readers of this story, which, in all its parts, is his- 
 torically true, will be able to understand why a 
 party of horsemen should be following the Black- 
 wolf Trail in the direction of the bay of Saint Louis 
 at a late hour in the night. The road in most 
 places was wide enough for two of the cavaliers to 
 go side by side, and four of them chatted as they 
 rode, while the fifth, who evidently was the leader, 
 held his way somewhat in advance, sitting on his 
 horse like a statue, and maintaining a strict and 
 apparently moody silence. 
 
 Seen in the deep gloom of the wood, the moving
 
 28 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 figures were more like shadows than realities, and 
 but for the heavy tramp of the horses and the occa- 
 sional sharp jingle of a spur or the clink of a bridle- 
 bit, they might have been regarded by a superstic- 
 ious fancy as ghosts of the followers of De Soto or 
 Bienville. Their voices, however, were evidently 
 real, and what they were saying referred to the 
 present. 
 
 " The king is breaking his own law to-night," said 
 one to another, " and I don't expect anything out 
 of it that'll pay for the trouble. What have these 
 people down here got that 's worth going after ? 
 We can't take their niggers, for they'd be known, 
 and I don't expect much money." 
 
 "You might wager your head," remarked the 
 other, " that the king knows what he is about. 
 When did he ever fail to do just what he wanted to ? 
 There 's more 'n we dream of at the end of this 
 ride." 
 
 " Maybe so ; I don't say there ain't ; but it 's a 
 queer move, you must say that." 
 
 " All of our moves are queer enough, for that 
 matter." 
 
 " Yes, but" 
 
 "But but what 's the use of yer ' buts ?' Yer 
 a constitutional grumbler, Tom Newkirk a cronic, 
 incurable growler." 
 
 " Mebbe so, but" 
 
 " Oh, grumble at my foot, my head aches !" 
 
 At this point the last speaker burst forth singing- 
 in a low mellow voice an old and not very elegant 
 ditty about a maid who
 
 THE CAVALIERS. 29 
 
 " Went away, went a-wa-y 
 With her love to a fair countrie." 
 
 He had reached what was perhaps the last stanza 
 and was droning out the fact that 
 
 " Her lover was false and cold was his heart, 
 And she died by his cruel hand," 
 
 when the leader suddenly exclaimed in a tone that 
 indicated irritation : 
 
 " I'm tired of that. Stop it ! This is no time for 
 your songs." 
 
 The singer obeyed promptly ; but could not 
 refrain from muttering under his breath : 
 
 " Devilish particular all at once ; must be ailing !" 
 
 " Who's got the grumbles now ?" said his com- 
 panion, tauntingly. " Told you that something 
 queer was at the bottom of this here move." 
 
 " Humph ! I'll admit that when the king gets so 
 particular that he won't let a fellow sing, there 
 must be something kind o' bilious on hand." 
 
 The country through which the little cavalcade 
 was passing is to-day almost as wild as ever ; the 
 forests have retaken many of the old-time planta- 
 tions, and one may follow trials like that of the 
 Black- wolf for miles in every direction under trim 
 pines and moss-hung oaks apparently hoary with 
 age. At that time, however, the trees were old in 
 reality, and the way led through jungles where 
 wolves yelled and snarled and panthers screamed 
 back and forth to one another from thicket to 
 thicket. Here and there the horses' feet plashed
 
 30 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 the darkling 1 ponds and bayous, while the booming 
 and the wallowing of the alligators made the night 
 hideous. Overhead the giant tracery of gnarled 
 and knotted boughs and the finer outlines of leaves, 
 fronds and sprays seemed wrought by some dusky 
 magic on the starry, cloudless blue of the sky. The 
 boles of the great trees arose, solid and firmly but- 
 tressed, steadfast as columns of stone, and appeared 
 to support the vast spangled arch of night. On 
 high, a gentle breeze rustled ; the dew, cool and 
 fragrant, hung upon everything, and there was a 
 suggestion of fruit in all the wandering perfumes 
 that came from groves of haw and wild apple, 
 tangled berry-vines and flowering festoons of grape. 
 
 At a certain place at the edge of a marsh, over 
 which there came a sharp tingle of salt air and a 
 far away boom of sea-water, the leader of the cava- 
 liers drew up his horse and called the others around 
 him, so that his strikingly tall and shapely figure 
 made the center of a dark group sketched against 
 the marsh rushes and the shining line of the bay. 
 
 " What is done to-night," he said, " is between us ; 
 not another soul upon earth is ever to know even a 
 hint of it. I have chosen you four, as the best of 
 my men, to join me in an affair of great importance 
 to me. It may turn out profitable in itself ; it may 
 not ; but, in any event, you four will be well paid." 
 
 The men drew closer, leaning toward him over 
 their saddles, as he proceeded to describe his plan 
 and its purpose. Like most leaders, he deceived 
 his followers, while at the same time he told them 
 the truth as far as he went.
 
 THE CAVALIERS. 31 
 
 He was going to rob Vasseur ; that much was 
 openly avowed. He had good reason to believe, he 
 said, that Vasseur had in his house a treasure of 
 precious stones, probably of great value, besides a 
 large amount of gold coin. How this information 
 had been obtained he did not say, nor did the men 
 inquire ; they were in the habit of taking his word 
 without question and were ready now to follow him 
 without fear. 
 
 "One thing is to be borne in mind," he went on : 
 " There is to be no personal hurt done to the man 
 or to any of his household. We are to gain our 
 point by clever work." 
 
 It was soon disclosed, as he proceeded with his 
 statement, that what he meant by clever work was 
 a most atrocious method of procedure, involving the 
 last degree of cruelty short of murder, provided that 
 such cruelty should become necessary in order to 
 insure success in the enterprise. 
 
 As soon as the council was ended, the leader 
 resumed his course, which now followed the marsh 
 for a short distance and then turned directly across 
 it to a thinly timbered ridge beyond. The horses 
 floundered through the deep, black ooze, their feet 
 sinking so far down that it required desperate 
 lunges to draw them out. 
 
 They soon reached a bluff overlooking the bay in 
 a southeasterly direction ; here a fairly good road- 
 way ran parallel with the beach, following which 
 for a mile southward, they came to Vasseur's house, 
 hid away in the trees and vines like some great 
 straggling bird-nest, dim and silent.
 
 32 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 The cavaliers put on black cloth masks as soon as 
 they reached the bluff. It was not usual for them 
 to wear a disguise ; but this was an extraordinary 
 exploit ; it called for every precaution. Indeed, a 
 piece of treachery scarcely ever before heard of, 
 even among- robbers, was in this act now to be done 
 by the King of Honey Island. No one of the riders 
 knew of this peculiar phase of the matter, however, 
 save the king himself. 
 
 There was no hesitation, therefore, and not a 
 twinge of what a desperado might call conscience. 
 The plan was carried out with promptness, precision 
 and success. 
 
 Before Vasseur was fairly awake, he was bound 
 hand and foot, and lay on the floor absolutely help- 
 less, gazing wildly at his assailants. 
 
 Fairfax, too, was surprised in his bed. He made 
 vigorous resistance ; but it was of no use. Four 
 men, each as strong or stronger than he, cast them- 
 selves upon him and quickly overpowered him, 
 binding his arms and legs with brutal disregard for 
 the torture inflicted, and thrusting a gag between 
 his teeth. 
 
 " I know you ! I know you !" screamed Vasseur, 
 before his mouth was stopped. " I know you, Pierre 
 Rameau. You might just as well take off that 
 mask ; it does not disguise you in the least. Ah, 
 you treacherous, soulless, perjured villain !" 
 
 The gag went in before he could say more ; but 
 he lay on his back and cursed with his eyes. 
 
 Three of the cavaliers were now sent out to keep 
 watch. Some of the slaves had been aroused, but
 
 THE CAVALIERS. 33 
 
 they were easily quieted ; a word and the sight of 
 a gun or a saber in the hand of a tall masked man 
 sent them shivering and speechless into their cabins 
 where they crouched like wild animals, scarcely 
 breathing for fear they were to be dragged away 
 and sold. 
 
 The work which the riders had come to do was 
 accomplished in a very short space of time. Vas- 
 seur's money and his treasure of precious stones 
 were soon found and taken ; but when the chief 
 had examined the latter he turned to Vasseur and 
 said : 
 
 " The cross is not here. Where is it ?" 
 
 The man, being gagged, of course there was no 
 answer ; but the curses were still flashing out of 
 his eyes, while his small, compact frame shook with 
 a passion that no cords could bind. 
 
 After gazing through his mask for a moment at 
 the grimacing countenance of his victim, the chief 
 of the riders stooped and began to search the fellow's 
 clothes. Vasseur strained desperately trying to 
 break the cords that bound him, his fury fairly 
 blazing from his dark face. Very deliberately the 
 robber continued his quest till with a little start of 
 satisfaction he laid hands on the worn leather case 
 containing the amethyst cross. 
 
 At this moment, Vasseur spit out the gag with a 
 great breath which sent it across the room. 
 
 " Pierre Rameau, you dastard !" he screamed in 
 French. " You faithless and honorless hound ! 
 I'll kill you for this I'll track you dog you follow 
 you forever, or kill you !"
 
 34 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 The robber deliberately set his foot upon the 
 helpless man's mouth and thus stopped his speech. 
 
 " Fetch here that gag," he said to one of his fol- 
 lowers ; but when he removed his foot and before 
 the gag could be used, Vasseur managed to shriek : 
 
 " I will inform on you I will lead government 
 troops against you I'll have vengeance I'll " 
 
 " Go out and mount ; I'll come immediately," 
 said the chief to his men. " Be ready to ride 
 instantly." 
 
 He drew a pistol and leveled it at Vasseur, but 
 checked himself almost in the act of firing. 
 
 The four cavaliers were mounted, one of them 
 holding the chief's horse ; they waited impatiently 
 in the rather chill morning breeze, and saw that a 
 faint touch of dawn was whitening the sky-line of 
 the day. 
 
 When at last the chief came forth, he walked 
 rapidly, and, mounting as if in a mighty hurry, spoke 
 *he one word : " Come !" and galloped away. 
 
 None of the cavaliers looked behind ; but if one 
 had, he might have seen a flicker of fire through the 
 small window-holes of Vasseur's house, and a little 
 later, the place was all aflame. 
 
 Doubtless, the chief, who was aware that both 
 Vasseur and Fairfax had, by the accidental slipping 
 aside of his mask, seen his face, was desirous of 
 thus putting an end to them and to the possibility 
 of any trouble from them thereafter. Certainly, 
 there was no other reasonable explanation of his 
 sudden change from the express purpose to leave 
 Vasseur unharmed. At all events, no act of that
 
 THE CAVALIERS. 35 
 
 desperate man's life was more representative of his 
 absolute heartlessness or of his promptness in doing 
 whatever seemed to him safest, without regard in 
 the least to anything save his own personal success. 
 He rode away from the burning house, leaving his 
 two human victims to roast there, and the act did 
 not even change a line in the expression of his dark, 
 calm face. 
 
 One thing was photographed in the memory of 
 Fairfax : The singular cold gleam of the robber's 
 eyes, as they appeared to narrow and lengthen with 
 a cat-like stare. He might forget the other features 
 of that face, even the slender whitish scar slanting 
 across the left cheek ; but the shape and expression 
 of the eyes could not be lost. He lay there thinking : 
 " If I ever see you again, I'll know you." 
 But the gag held back every effort to speak.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ECHOES FROM LAWLESS DAYS. 
 
 For a while it looked as if Vasseur and Fairfax 
 would be roasted alive in the burning house, as the 
 leader of the cavaliers had intended when he applied 
 the fire ; but the slaves rallied from their stupor of 
 fright in time to come to the rescue. 
 
 The two men, still bound and gagged, were 
 dragged forth without any ceremony and left lying 
 at some distance from the building, while the 
 excited blacks made heroic efforts to save first the 
 house itself and then the furniture. Their work 
 was quite in vain, however, for the dry, resinous 
 pine logs and boards, yielded to the flames as if with 
 delight, flinging out such heat that nothing less 
 invulnerable than a salamander could have gone 
 within the doors. They made a great hubbub as 
 they rushed here and there through the black pitch- 
 smoke and the increasing glare, their half-clad 
 sable forms looking like veritable demons raging 
 around some infernal center of torture. 
 
 Fairfax lay on his back under a fig-tree and 
 watched helplessly and with what resignation he 
 [361
 
 ECHOES FBOM LAWLESS DAYS. 37 
 
 could command the rapid and weird changes of the 
 scene. The negroes had deemed it best to leave 
 the men tied, seeing at a glance that to unbind them 
 would require great effort and much loss of valuable 
 time, which had better be spent in efforts to save 
 property. It was a strikingly characteristic fact 
 that not one of them thought of cutting the cords ! 
 Both Fairfax and Vasseur tried to make them think 
 of it ; but the ludicrous grimaces, which under the 
 circumstances were their only language, conveyed 
 no such suggestion to the excited Africans, where- 
 fore, as the conflagration proceeded, Vasseur raged 
 in stifling silence, and Fairfax strove to deport him- 
 self with all the dignity becoming the last of a great 
 Virginia familv. considering the peculiarities of the 
 situation. 
 
 Meanwhile, the five cavaliers were speeding on 
 their way to Honey Island. Their ride back along 
 the Black-wolf Trail was far brisker than was their 
 pace when we saw them going down to the bay ; 
 indeed, by the time that full daylight was abroad in 
 the woods, they were far up by the banks of Pearl 
 River, galloping along single file, with a cane-brake 
 on one hand and a wild jungle of live-oaks and 
 tangled vines on the other. The chief had led them 
 by a new route from Vasseur 's to the trail, a cross- 
 way that ran past the humble home of Lapin, the 
 overseer of Mr. Vernon's plantation. Day was 
 beginning to shoot up its first faint shimmer as they 
 rode near tne little piace, startling a pacs. of dogs 
 from their slumbers unaer a low shea and drawing 
 from them a broadside of discordant baying. Some
 
 38 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 domestic fowls, roosting on a rude grape trellis, 
 cackled lustily. 
 
 Two savage-looking bloodhounds cleared the low 
 yard fence at a bound and came tearing along after 
 the horsemen, as if to drag them from their saddles. 
 
 " Don't shoot !" commanded the chief, as one of 
 the cavaliers lifted his gun. " We are not niggers ; 
 they'll quit when they discover our scent. Hold 
 your fire." 
 
 Sure enough it was so ; the dogs turned about 
 almost instantly, when they discovered that it was 
 white men in the saddles, and trotted leisurely back 
 the way they had come. 
 
 While this was going on, a singular incident added 
 significance to what would have otherwise been 
 scarcely worth our noting. 
 
 At the sound of the chief's voice, some one in the 
 house leaped out of bed and ran to the little square 
 window-hole that overlooked the path along which 
 the cavaliers were cantering. A moment later, 
 just as the chief was on the point of disappearing 
 among the trees, a head covered with long, scatter- 
 ing, disheveled locks of white hair was thrust out, 
 the face showing haggard and shrunken with 
 intense excitement, and the sunken blue eyes fol- 
 lowed in strange wise the horseman's movements. 
 
 The chief glanced back just at that point, but he 
 did not see the face in the window-hole ; if he had 
 seen it and recognized it, the effect upon him would 
 have been greater than a row of leveled guns could 
 have produced. 
 
 Little note made the grim riders of this incident ,
 
 ECHOES FROM LAWLESS DAYS. 39 
 
 they did not note it at all, in fact, but galloped on 
 in reckless mood, knowing that there was no force 
 to pursue them, and that every bound their horses 
 made bore them that much nearer to the land of 
 their comrades, the almost impenetrable wilderness 
 of Honey Island, where their chief was king, and 
 where the division of spoils was the only evidence 
 of law. 
 
 One came upon their track, however a tall old 
 man on foot and unarmed. He strode out from 
 Lapin's cabin and followed the trail, stepping 
 slowly and firmly, yet showing as if from within 
 the window of his countenance a consuming eager- 
 ness and a great hope. 
 
 It was thus that Alexander Max Burns once 
 more got a glimpse of the man who had stolen his 
 child. That man's voice had startled him from his 
 morning's sleep under Lapin's roof, and the hurried 
 look through the window had photographed on his 
 brain a picture of terrible significance to him. For 
 the merest point of time his eyes had rested upon 
 Kirk MacCollough. He muttered that name as he 
 trudged deeper and deeper into the gloomy forest 
 following the trail of the cavaliers. 
 
 What is it that makes our consciousness of an 
 enemy's personal beauty something appealing and, 
 in a way, distressing ? An old duelist has been 
 heard to say that he would rather stand before an 
 ordinary-looking dead shot than before a handsome 
 bungler. The glamour of a fine, magnetic presence 
 is strangely confusing ; and the effect seems more 
 powerful when the face is an evil one, especially
 
 40 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 when the evil is not on the outside and shows only 
 elusively and by subtle indirection from within. 
 Max Burns felt the fascination that flashed from 
 the robber-chief's face, and for a time it almost 
 unnerved him ; the beauty it wore, like some shi- 
 ning mask, did not suggest at all times the dark 
 spirit of the desperate and lawless man. Long, 
 curling yellow hair and a fine full beard of the same 
 color ; a straight nose ; a good forehead ; long, nar- 
 row, clear-gray eyes and a mouth indescribably 
 haughty and stern in its expression, were supple- 
 mented by a frame of unusual statute and symme- 
 try. This was Pierre Rameau, formerly Kirk 
 MacCollough, now the King of Honey Island, as old 
 Max Burns saw him in the gray morning light, an 
 apparition of unspeakable meaning to him, gleam 
 like a phantom of evil for a second and then fade, 
 as it were, into the gloom of the moss-hung woods. 
 
 Certainly it was not the Kirk MacCollough of 
 twelve years ago not the slender, fair -faced youth 
 who had stolen the girl though the reckless half- 
 smile still lingered and the old stamp of utter 
 unrestraint was as plain as ever. No, not the boy- 
 ish Kirk MacCollough, but the man, full-grown to 
 his prime, masterful, commanding, a leader of men, 
 and yet there was no mistaking his identity. 
 
 Max Burns was old, and for fifty years had been 
 a preacher whose sermons had overflowed with 
 sentimental tenderness ; but he had a side to his 
 nature which was as hard as Scotch granite. It 
 was with this hard side out that he was pursuing 
 Kirk MacCollough ; and yet, even through this, the
 
 ECHOES FROM LAWLESS DAYS. 41 
 
 spell of the man's strong and beautiful face found 
 its way to his heart. 
 
 The effect of it was but temporary, so far as 
 checking his determination was concerned ; but it 
 never quite left him during the rest of the day as he 
 slowly but steadily followed the trail into the main 
 road and on toward the upper Pearl-River region. 
 
 Literally, the preacher had no scrip for his 
 journey, no staff, no means of living ; he depended, 
 as the old-time minister of the backwoods was wont 
 to do, upon the hand of Providence. Here and 
 there a trapper's or a hunter's hut, here and yonder 
 a settler's cabin offered him rest, food, shelter. He 
 did not tell his story ; but he prayed at the fire- 
 side of all, and he managed to leave behind him, 
 wherever he went, a memorable something sweet, 
 strange and altogether welcome to the simple 
 pioneer hearts. Sometimes he fell among desperate 
 men, robbers themselves, or aiders and abettors of 
 them, and even with these he was at home ; for he 
 bore with him the charm of childlike faith, combined 
 with the touching appeal of unprotected old age. 
 
 What helped him most of all, perhaps, was his 
 singing ; for age had scarcely touched the deep, 
 rich music of his voice, and his memory was stored 
 with hymns and tunes that enthralled the hearts of 
 his entertainers. 
 
 The strolling preachers of all denominations 
 traversed our frontier regions in those days, and 
 Max Burns was accepted as a member of the class 
 without a question, without suspicion, and made 
 freely welcome by every household as a privileged
 
 42 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 if not in every instance a venerated person. Curious 
 enough does it appear when recorded, but it is, 
 nevertheless, a historical fact, that the preacher 
 found for some time a home with one Dick Becket, 
 well known as the fighting fiddler, who was a red- 
 headed man, very bow-legged, much freckled and 
 badly scarred by an old knife-cut across the nose, 
 and whose cabin was about three miles east of 
 Pearl River, opposite the southern end of Honey 
 Island. 
 
 This Dick Becket was a trapper and, to some 
 extent, a trader with the Indians. His cabin was 
 often the stopping-place of the freebooters, with 
 whom he kept on good terms without having any- 
 thing to do with their enterprises. He charged 
 liberal prices for their board and lodging, and so 
 his place became known far and near as Dick's. 
 He lived to a great age, dying in 1867 on the banks 
 of Pearl River, not far from where his first cabin 
 stood. It was from him, at first hand, that many 
 of the Honey Island legends came into circulation 
 in their present form. He fiddled as long as he 
 lived, and was a noted story-teller. He took Burns 
 in and became greatly attached to him, ever after- 
 ward calling him Daddy or Parson Burns. 
 
 Thus established within a comparatively short 
 distance of Pierre Rameau's base of operations, the 
 old man felt that at last he was on the point of 
 reaching the end of his long wanderings. There 
 could be no doubt now that Pierre Rameau and 
 MacCollough were one and the same man, nor did
 
 ECHOK8 FROM LAWLESS DAYS. 43 
 
 it look possible for the outlaw to prevent his 
 approach, provided that he could avoid recognition. 
 
 The writer of this story has become the owner of 
 a. curious and singularly interesting collection of 
 papers, labeled " The Pearl River Records," and it 
 is from these and from Dick Becket's stories that he 
 has obtained the main facts hi connection with Rev. 
 Max Burns's sojourn in the region of Honey Island. 
 The information is meager enough touching the old 
 man's motive ; but this lack naturally came of his 
 reticence and caution in communicating with the 
 people who treated him so kindly. Supplementing 
 the fiddler's reminiscences and the " Records " 
 most of which have to do with the exploits of vari- 
 ous outlaws, from Rameau, Lafitte, Murrell and 
 Copeland, down to Rube Burrow and Eugene 
 Bunch the recollections of Orlando Favre, a very 
 old half-breed Indian, who died some fifteen years 
 ago, have been relied upon ; but, after all, the facts 
 are meager and scattering. Indeed, what has 
 already been told in the present chapter cannot be 
 added to. The further adventures of Max Burns, 
 in so far as they will be found of importance in this 
 story, will be looked for at another stage of our 
 progress. 
 
 We must now return to the bay of Saint Louis, 
 where \ve left Vasseur and Fairfax enduring as 
 best they could a situation at once awkward and 
 trying in the extreme. To be bound and gagged 
 could be borne after a fashion, so long as the evil 
 was enforced by an irresistible enemy ; moreover, 
 since every moment added the torture of cruelly
 
 44 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 tight-drawn cords to wrists and ankles, the first 
 part of the ordeal was much milder than the latter 
 part ; but when it came to lying prone, stiff and 
 speechless while a great fire raged almost over them 
 it was the unbearable that had to be borne ; it was 
 torture too exasperating for even the temper of 
 Fairfax. He too gave way to violent " paroxysms 
 of silence," as he afterward expressed it. 
 
 When Vasseur was at length released, he was too 
 weak and benumbed by the pressure of the bonds 
 and by the exhaustive wrath-passion that he had 
 indulged in for his curses and cuffs to do much 
 harm ; but he distributed both with unstinted liber- 
 ality as he limped and hopped wildly about amongst 
 the negroes. 
 
 The house and nearly everything in if were 
 burned to ashes in an incredibly short time. Fair- 
 fax could not repress a smile when he found that 
 his travelling-bag containing his clothes had been 
 saved, while his sketches and his weapons his pis- 
 tols and his gun, a rifle of great value had been 
 overlooked and left to be destroyed. As for Vasseur, 
 his mind, what little of it was presently available, 
 raged with the memory of his lost treasure of jewels. 
 He screamed in French, he screeched in Italian, he 
 cursed and swore without fear of confusion of 
 tongues, and through it all ran something about hav- 
 ing been betrayed and robbed by an individual who 
 owed him an eternal debt of gratitude. All this, 
 considering that the man was still in his night- 
 clothes, of which a red night-cap was a most con- 
 spicuous garment, would have been highly amusing
 
 ECHOES FROM IAWLE8S DAYS. 45 
 
 at any other time ; and even now, at its worst, it 
 was weirdly, almost demoniacally, comical. 
 
 Fairfax dressed himself forthwith, and then stood, 
 with his hands in his pockets, staring at the scene, 
 as one does when one feels especially perplexed and 
 helpless in the midst of sudden disaster. He turned 
 quickly, however, when Vasseur came near. The 
 little fellow could scarcely speak intelligibly, and 
 the froth of excitement was clotted on his lips. 
 
 " It was zat Pierre Rameau !" he cried, not forget- 
 ting to air his English even in this extremity. 
 " Zat villaine, zat robbaire ! He steal evareting ! 
 He burn my maison ; he care off my propriety !" 
 
 Usually it was not hard for Fairfax to find words ; 
 but now he could frame no suitable comment on 
 the occasion. He stood looking at his swarthy little 
 host, and smiling half mechanically, without moving 
 his lips to make him a response. There was pathos 
 as well as comedy in the situation. 
 
 The negroes, men, women and children, gathered 
 in awe-struck groups to gaze on the fire, making 
 their remarks in undertones, the women crying and 
 the half-naked little ones clinging to the coarse, 
 scant skirts of their mothers. 
 
 " Ah ! Ze villaine ! Ze scoun'rel ! Ze robbaire ! 
 Oh ! Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! My jewels ! My pretty jewels !" 
 still wailed Vasseur, after the house was white 
 ashes and the sun had come up from the sea like a 
 great round flower of flame. " My precious stones ! 
 My beautiful cross ! My money ! Zey are all 
 gone gone ! He took zem ! Oh ! Ze perfide 
 vagabone ! Ze scel'erat .'"
 
 46 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 When Fairfax had pulled himself together suffic- 
 iently to consider the situation calmly, his first 
 effort was toward reducing Vasseur to a rational 
 state of mind, a task by no means easy to accom- 
 plish. He succeeded in a measure at length, and 
 when the poor little man had found some clothes 
 and a pipe, the whole matter was talked over ; and 
 so it happened that Fairfax heard a strange story. 
 
 Eight years prior to the robbery at Vasseur 's, the 
 two men, Vasseur and Rameau, had been comrades 
 and equal sharers in the dangers and the profits of a 
 daring piece of piracy done in the far East. In 
 dividing the spoils, Vasseur gladly accepted a large 
 quantity of jewels, some of them the personal prop- 
 erty of Rameau, in lieu of their value in money, his 
 passion for precious stones controlling his greed 
 for gold ; but a goodly pile of money fell to his 
 share also, and he abandoned the sea forthwith to 
 settle himself, with a body of slaves, on a plantation 
 in San Domingo, whence, when disturbances came, 
 he fled to his present abode on the beautiful bluffs 
 of the bay of Saint Louis. 
 
 Vasseur gave the details of his story without 
 reserve. He was boiling over with indignation, and 
 his passion made him recklessly communicative ; 
 indeed, he was almost crazed, and seemed to find 
 vent for his overcharge of nervous excitement in 
 laying bare the innermost secrets of his past experi- 
 ence. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances and in a normal 
 mood, Fairfax most probably would have refused to 
 hear these terrible confessions ; and yet they were
 
 ECHOES FROM LAWLESS DATS. 47 
 
 of a kind to enthrall the imagination of a young 
 man, himself passionately fond of adventure ; and 
 when he was told that the daring and villainous act 
 just perpetrated by the riders from Honey Island 
 had been directed by Pierre Rameau in person, he 
 felt that, no matter what had been Vasseur's crimes, 
 the little man was justifiable in considering himself 
 atrociously betrayed and outraged by his former 
 partner in felony. 
 
 It was a revelation to Fairfax thus to find himself 
 the companion and comrade in misfortune of a 
 whilom pirate ; but, strange as it may seem, he did 
 not recoil from the discovery. Doubtless he recog- 
 nized it as a necessary part of the life around him, 
 and found food for his fancy in regarding it as an 
 incident of the slowly receding buccaneer days a 
 stray, lingering wave of the wild tide of lawlessness 
 which formerly flowed from the Caribbean across 
 the Gulf into the famous rendezvous of Bay Saint 
 Louis ; at all events, he found a certain exhilaration, 
 possessing him, and as he walked up to the Vernon 
 place that same morning he could not cast off a 
 sense of the link which connected him with some 
 great chain of picturesque events past, present and 
 to come. 
 
 When he neared the house he heard the noisy 
 mocking-birds in the oaks and magnolias, and the 
 first person he saw was Mile. Pauline Vernon stand- 
 ing, tall, bright and beautiful, on the veranda under 
 the vines. Something in her form and face sent a 
 tender thrill through him, and in a moment he was 
 strangely happy. Youth casts out the evil spirit of
 
 48 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 misfortune so easily in the worst case ; and, after 
 all, what had happened to Fairfax was no more than 
 a stimulating bit of experience in the rougher cur- 
 rent of the wild life into which he had voluntarily 
 thrown himself. He had seen Pierre Rameau in 
 one of his most picturesque attitudes, and the 
 apparition was of itself worth all that he had paid 
 for it in submitting to the gag and to imminent 
 danger of being roasted alive. The artist within 
 him was complacently happy over the whole affair. 
 In truth, he could not have denied that the robber's 
 face had its fascination. Some day he would paint 
 it from memory, or mayhap he might yet see those 
 strange, terrible, magnetic eyes again.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A BREAKFAST AT VERNON PLACE. 
 
 As Fairfax approached the veranda, Mr. Yernon 
 came out of the hall, booted as if for a ride ; at the 
 same, time a servant led a horse around from the 
 rear c.f the house. Father and daughter both smiled 
 at sight of the young man, and Mr. Vernon wel- 
 comed him with a hearty, loud " Good-morning," 
 his voice ringing out pleasantly : 
 
 " Glad to see you, my boy glad to see you. Hope 
 you slept well last night. It was a grand night for 
 sound, refreshing sleep !" 
 
 Fairfax lifted his hat and shook hands with them 
 both. For the single moment that his fingers closed 
 over those of Mile. Pauline he looked into her shy 
 but friendly eyes and forgot all that had passed dur- 
 ing the night. 
 
 "And how are they down at Vasseur's?" con- 
 tinued Mr. Vernon. " Is my little neighbor well ?" 
 
 He always spoke of Vasseur in the diminutive. 
 
 The inquiry caused Fairfax to start perceptibly. 
 It was a rude transition from the mood of the mo- 
 ment to a thought of what had come to pass during 
 the night. At first he had no words ready. Like 
 
 [49]
 
 50 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 an abashed boy, he stood looking- now at Mile. Paul- 
 ine and then at her father. There was little enough 
 of shyness or hesitation in his nature; but somehow 
 the questions threw him into confusion. Just then 
 the subject called up was not welcome to him ; it 
 would have been so much pleasanter could he have 
 been left alone with Mile. Pauline to forget that 
 there ever was a Vasseur. He hesitated but a mo- 
 ment, however, seeing that his change of counten- 
 ance had stirred up some sort of uneasiness in the 
 mind of Mr. Vernon, who had observed it. 
 
 " Vasseur was robbed last night," he bluntly said, 
 " and his house was burned." 
 
 " Robbed ! Burned !" exclaimed Mr. Vernon, 
 whose turn it now was to be taken by surprise. 
 
 " What do you mean to say, Mr. Fairfax !" 
 
 Mile. Pauline drew close to her stalwart, shaggy 
 father, and put an arm over his immense shoulder. 
 The blood had left her face, so that it was as white 
 as a lily petal. 
 
 It did not give Fairfax any pleasure to tell the 
 story. Perhaps, being a very young man, he was 
 aware that his part in the affair had been neither 
 heroic nor picturesque, and that he must at best 
 appear to have been an easy victim to a bold as- 
 sault. This was an exhilarating consciousness. 
 
 Mr. Vernon's brow grew dark as he listened, and 
 he combed his beard with his fingers. 
 
 " I will ride down and see Vasseur," he said. " It 
 may be that I can be of service to him. Go in, Mr. 
 Fairfax ; the ladies will ask you a thousand ques- 
 tions ; I will return immediately."
 
 BREAKFAST AT VKRNON PLACE. 51 
 
 " But it is dreadful ! It is dangerous ! You will 
 be killed !" cried Pauline, clinging to him, nervously. 
 " Don't go. father ! Please, don't." 
 
 He kissed her, laughing meantime to pooh-pooh 
 her fears, then went down the steps and vaulted with 
 a superb show of muscular energy into the saddle. 
 Before he rode away, he sat for a time stroking the 
 glossy neck of his horse, while the groom fetched a 
 pair of heavy holster pistols and hung them at the 
 pommel of the saddle ; then his gun was also handed 
 to him. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon made her appearance at this point. 
 She saw forthwith that something unusual had hap- 
 pened, and began to ask questions, growing excited 
 as she proceeded. The groom stood listening with 
 open mouth and rolling eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Fairfax will tell you everything," said Mr. 
 Vernon ; " it's nothing so terrible, after all. The 
 danger is past, if there ever was any, and I'm only 
 going down to console poor little Vasseur." 
 
 " And, say, dear," he turned and added to his wife, 
 after he had ridden to some distance, " ask Mr. Fair- 
 fax to have some breakfast ; I don't think he has 
 taken any this morning. I may return in time to 
 have coffee with you ; but don't wait." 
 
 Mrs. Vernon made a gesture of despair and began 
 to cry hysterically. 
 
 " I will not stay in this terrible place any longer !" 
 she exclaimed with vehemence. " We must go back 
 to the city at once. Oh, but this is unbearable ! 
 Robbers down there only a mile or so away ! What 
 if if what if they had come here !"
 
 52 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 This was addressed to Mr. Vernon, but he did 
 not hear ; his horse was already galloping briskly 
 away. The three, Mrs. Vernon, Pauline and Fair- 
 fax, stood looking after him until he had passed 
 out of sight amid the fringe of trees along the bluff 
 of the bay shore. What to them was a reality, quite 
 in keeping with the time and the place, must appear 
 to us, at this distance and with our surroundings, 
 like an illustration torn from some old novel. Even 
 in that day, however, when every inhabitant of the 
 gulf coast was more or less familiar with lawless- 
 ness and violence in their most picturesque forms, 
 there was something startling in each new phase of 
 the reckless life that throbbed along the old Creole 
 borders. It is impossible for men and women to 
 live in the midst of romance and not realize it in 
 some degree. 
 
 " He ought to have lived in the days of Richard 
 the Lionheart," said Fairfax, turning his gaze from 
 where Mr. Vernon had disappeared in the wood to 
 the pale face of Pauline. " He would have been a 
 knight of iron with that frame of his." He spoke 
 lightly, more to break up the situation and call the 
 ladies back to themselves than to give expression 
 to the fancy of the moment, suggested by the 
 superb horsemanship just witnessed. 
 
 " But the robbers ! They will kill him !" insisted 
 Mrs. Vernon. " He is going right to them !" 
 
 "Never fear, madam," said Fairfax with an 
 assuring smile ; " there isn't the slightest danger. 
 Those gallant knights of the road are many miles 
 from here at present. It appears they knew too
 
 BREAKFAST AT VERNON PLACE. 53 
 
 much about Vasseur's treasure, and so planned a 
 successful raid on it. There is no more danger 
 from them ; they are gone." 
 
 " But we have jewels, too," said Mrs. Vernon with 
 a quick look at Pauline. " They might want our 
 diamonds !" 
 
 Fairfax laughed outright, and the ladies joined 
 him timidly, as if under protest. 
 
 " If I may speak of it," he said, " you are forget- 
 ting to make further mention of breakfast. I am 
 preposterously hungry after my night's adventures.*' 
 
 " A thousand pardons !" exclaimed Mrs. Vernon. 
 " We will go in at once." 
 
 The appeal to her hospitality was with her, as it 
 has always been with the Southern hostess, sufficient 
 to drive almost anything else from her mind. 
 
 Pauline led the way to the breakfast-room, where 
 the table was spread near a rude alcove in the soft 
 light of vine-colored windows. The wildness of the 
 place was emphasized by woody perfumes, that 
 strayed in along with brilliant song-phrases of the 
 thrushes and mocking-birds. The air itself, as it 
 rustled through open doors and windows, was a 
 breath of the blooming virgin wilderness, and there 
 was a note of remoteness and loneliness in the swash 
 of the sea and the sough of the pines. It may have 
 been the sense of isolation induced by the surround- 
 ings that made Fairfax enjoy in some indefinable 
 way the indirect appeal to his protection, which he 
 felt rather than saw or heard coming to him from 
 Mrs. Vernon and her daughter. 
 
 Although he felt it necessary to hide from the
 
 54: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 ladies every doubt he might have as to their perfect 
 security, he found himself tingling with pleasure, 
 to know that his presence gave them a sense of 
 safety. It now seemed to him inexplicible that 
 Mr. Vernon should have brought his wife and 
 daughter to this lonely and exposed place. If the 
 bay of Saint Louis is a secluded, dreamy, far-with- 
 drawn spot even now, what was it at the beginning 
 of our century ? 
 
 " I shall insist on going back to our house in 
 New Orleans at once," said Mrs. Vernon, as they 
 took their places at the table, and she signaled for 
 a servant. " I am not willing to live here any 
 longer." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders and shivered. 
 
 "It may be as you think, Mr. Fairfax, that there 
 is no danger ; but who wants to live where outlaws 
 ride past one's window by night and rob and burn 
 one's neighbor's house ! And, besides, I'm heartily 
 tired of this horrid place !" 
 
 Her vivacity gave a charming piquancy to her 
 expression of discontent. She spoke of Vasseur as 
 her neighbor, but, in fact, she had never seen the 
 man or his house. 
 
 Fairfax could not have the heart to simulate 
 opposition to the natural feeling of his hostess, 
 especially since he was hoping and wishing that 
 the departure of the Vernons for New Orleans 
 would be hastened by every possible good fortune. 
 He was ready to go with them at a moment's 
 notice, and would have been glad to give the notice 
 himself.
 
 BREAKFAST AT VERNON PLACE. 53 
 
 "Your experience here will be pleasant to 
 remember," he said, " and I should think that such 
 an outing would add an express charm to your 
 enjoyment of the city. I am sure that even my 
 unheroic adventures with the masked raiders from 
 the wilderness will afford me most enjoyable recol- 
 lections so soon as I can get them in the proper 
 perspective. To be perfectly frank, I am myself 
 quite willing to return to New Orleans." 
 
 " Father will be ready to go now," spoke up 
 Pauline, for the first time ; " he will not wish to 
 keep us here any longer." 
 
 It was useless for Fairfax to try, he could not lead 
 the conversation away from the robbers, and so 
 they sat long at the table discussing the subject 
 most unwelcome to him until Mr. Vernon returned 
 just in time to take coffee with them. 
 
 The incoming of the bluff and cheery host changed 
 the atmosphere of the room at once ; Mrs. Vernon 
 and Pauline were smiling and comparatively at ease 
 again. 
 
 " I have sent a small boat with orders to my over- 
 seer at the Chandeleurs to bring up another large 
 schooner ; I'm going to take everything away from 
 here." These were Mr. Vernon 's first words. " My 
 sloop is just in from New Orleans," he added, turn- 
 ing some papers in his hands. " The war between 
 England and the United States is taking a new turn 
 it seems, and this coast will not long be safe. We 
 will return to New Orleans at once." 
 
 Mrs. Vernon and Pauline exchanged a glance of 
 delight ; evidently just then they were glad of any-
 
 56 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 thing, even war, that would drive them away from 
 their wildwood home and back to the security and 
 comfort of the city. They forgot Pierre Rameau 
 and his cavaliers, they forgot Vasseur and his 
 house in ashes, as on the instant the vision of the 
 mansion on the narrow street in New Orleans, arose 
 in their minds with the murmur of man's activities 
 and the gleam of passing vehicles. Indeed, the 
 thought of war was vague, remote, shrouded in the 
 misty distance ; even the United States seemed 
 to them not the country in which they lived, but 
 rather some far-off land in which they had but a 
 nominal interest. 
 
 Fairfax had left New York just in advance 
 of the beginning of war, and perhaps no better im- 
 pression can be given of the wide, unconquered dis- 
 tances of our country before steam and electricity 
 had compressed them, than to imagine that, 
 although for some months the fighting had been 
 going on, the news of it was just fairly reaching 
 this nook of the gulf coast where he found himself 
 so deeply and sweetly content that the thought of 
 his country's peril or of his duty, as the son of a 
 patriot soldier, calling him to arms had not once 
 arisen in his mind. He had heard the war men- 
 tioned in New Orleans ; but it had not impressed 
 him as a matter of importance to himself. 
 
 " I am selfish enough to be glad when I hear you 
 say that you are going back to the city," he said, 
 " for I shall have to depend upon you to give me 
 room in your vessel. I was just telling the ladies 
 that last night's experiences have quite filled my
 
 BREAKFAST AT VERNON PLACE. 57 
 
 cup f desire, and that I am willing to retire from 
 this picturesque region." 
 
 Mr. Vernon laughed, but it was easy to see that 
 behind his appearance of cheerfulness grave 
 thoughts were pressing upon him. His heavy, 
 bearded face showed unmistakable lines of trouble, 
 and in his deep-set eyes a cloud was hovering. He 
 sipped his coffee and made light remarks ; but 
 Pauline's quick sympathy discovered his real mood. 
 
 " Something has happened to disturb you, papa," 
 she ventured. " There is something you dread for 
 us to know." 
 
 The perfect frankness of her voice and manner 
 and the outright sincerity of her words seemed to 
 touch her father. A slight flush crept into his 
 cheeks along the fringe of his ample white beard ; 
 he looked at her with a gleam of tenderness in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " You are a very close observer," he said, in half- 
 banter. u You read me as if my face were a book." 
 
 " He finds it hard to tear away from the freedom 
 of this wild place," remarked Mrs. Vernon. " I wish 
 \ve could take the whole estate along with us to the 
 city." 
 
 " I wish I knew that we could be sure of safety, 
 even in New Orleans," said Mr. Veruon. "It is 
 better to be in the city than here ; but what will 
 become of it when an English fleet and army lay 
 siege to it ?" 
 
 " But they will never come away off there, will 
 they ?" inquired Pauline, with all the faith of a child 
 in long distances.
 
 58 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Her father laughed. 
 
 " We will not borrow trouble," he said, as he 
 folded the papers in his hand and bestowed them in 
 a pocket of his ample jacket, meantime permitting 
 Pauline to refill his cup. Then he changed his tone 
 and said that they would sail for New Orleans 
 to-morrow morning, if the breeze should be favor- 
 able. 
 
 Fairfax saw that something of more direct per- 
 sonal interest than news of the progress of the war 
 was demanding Mr. Vernon's thought. A subtlety 
 of insight, accidental and momentary, perhaps, gave 
 him a half-glimpse of what it was, or, at least, engen- 
 dered a suspicion of its origin, if not of its nature 
 and substance. 
 
 " How did you find Vasseur ?" he inquired. " Is 
 he quieting down to a robbed man's best philos- 
 ophy ?" 
 
 " Poor little fellow !" Mr. Vernon answered. " He 
 cries for his jewels as a mother cries for her lost 
 children." 
 
 " What is he going to do ?" 
 
 " I don't know ; no more does he ; but I should 
 not like to be the man that robbed him. He is 
 little, but he is as deadly as a viper and as persist- 
 ent as time itself." 
 
 Something in Mr. Vernon's voice and manner, as 
 he said this, suggested to Fairfax that there was 
 a meaning between the words ; but the truth was 
 that Mr. Vernon's thoughts were not on Vasseur 
 and his troubles. Uppermost in his mind was a 
 shadow of what the war might bring to him and
 
 BREAKFAST AT VERNON PLACE. 59 
 
 his. Not that he had any cowardly fears ; but there 
 had been matters connected with his early career 
 which rendered the probabilities of his falling into 
 the hands of the English a thing not to be regarded 
 without unspeakable dread. He knew enough 
 about military science to be well aware of the 
 defenseless condition of New Orleans in the pres- 
 ence of such a fleet and such an army as the British 
 government might be able to send there. Now the 
 news that came to him from one in high connection 
 with the government indicated that a strong fleet 
 and an army overwhelming in numbers would prob- 
 ably soon be in front of New Orleans and under 
 command of a distinguished British officer. What 
 would be the result ? It seemed to him that there 
 could be but one answer : The city would fall, and 
 the whole gulf coast would be ravaged. 
 
 He excused himself presently, with the plea that 
 he had much to do in preparing for the departure 
 for New Orleans, and went out. 
 
 Fairfax felt compelled, under the circumstances, 
 to accept the hospitality of the Vernons during the 
 rest of his stay, seeing that, since the burning of 
 Vasseur's place, there was no other available alter- 
 native, and besides he could not muster up the 
 slightest unwillingness in the matter. He was glad, 
 indeed, with a genuine boyish gladness, and could 
 not hide the pleasure his situation gave him. 
 
 Fairfax was bold to make the most of his sur- 
 roundings ; but Pauline when she found herself for 
 a moment alone with him under the vines of the 
 rude veranda, suddenly felt an access of shyness
 
 60 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 not in the least characteristic, and shrank away 
 from him, in spirit at least, taking refuge within 
 that impenetrable close which is walled by the 
 reserve of unaffected girlhood. He, however, was 
 too happy to desire more than to be near her and 
 see her, to feel that he formed part of a picture 
 with her, that they stood on the same plane and 
 were outlined against the same romantic back- 
 ground ; and to dream that perhaps they might go, 
 side by side, through a long and happy future.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN UNKNOWN SCHOONER. 
 
 With a favorable wind and with the temperature 
 at the average degree for springtime, the voyage 
 from the bay of Saint Louis to New Orleans, by 
 way of Lake Borgne, the Rigolets and Lake Pont- 
 chartrain, is a charming experience. Passing out 
 of the bay's mouth in a southeasterly direction, the 
 course is over a shallow sound, set with sand-bars 
 and dotted with low islands, some of them densely 
 wooded, others covered with rushes and marsh- 
 grass. On the right for miles shine the white bluffs 
 of the mainland, crowned at the time of our story 
 with groves of live-oaks and magnolias, immense in 
 size and bearing the unmistakable marks of great 
 age. It was these beautiful headlands that cast 
 their glamour over the imagination of the old 
 French explorer as he sailed by in 1699, on his way 
 to Pontchartrain and Maurepas. From then till 
 now, the fascination .of the coast as seen from the 
 sea has held and strengthened, so that no person 
 can pass it by without dreaming the dreams of 
 eternal, breezy, balmy summer. The dusky oaks 
 
 [61]
 
 62 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 spread their arms so far, their leaves and their trail- 
 ing moss shimmer so vaguely, they cast such dark, 
 cool shadows below, and over them hovers a sheen 
 so tender ! Small wonder that even men like Iber- 
 ville, Chateaugue and Bienville made fine plans for 
 possessing a paradise so fair to see, and harbored 
 the thought of peace and rest on the airy bluffs 
 tinder the romantic groves where the red men held 
 their summer feasts and worshiped the golden sun ! 
 
 On the left, as the vessel's course curves west- 
 ward toward Borgne, the crescent of the Chandeleurs 
 bounds the horizon, while stretching away south- 
 ward, swimming apparently against both sky and 
 water, the outlying marshes of Louisiana waver and 
 flicker like a bank of sunlit clouds. 
 
 This restless sheet of water, tumbling its short 
 white-capped waves between the islands and the 
 mainland, is Mississippi Sound, of which Lake 
 Borgne is but a wider part that finds connection 
 with Pontchartrain through a broad bayou, or series 
 of bayous, called the Rigolets. 
 
 Pearl River falls into Lake Borgne some miles 
 eastward from the Rigolets, and its mouth, joining 
 with many little bayous, fills the grassy marshes on 
 either side with a silvery net-work of water. 
 
 A glance at a good map of the region will show 
 how perfectly adapted was this whole tangle of 
 lakes, creeks, rivers, islands, marshes, swamps and 
 densely timbered mainlands to the purposes of the 
 outlaws, whose swift little vessels darted through 
 the intricate water-ways like wild-fowl in their 
 native haunt. What had the pirates to fear so long
 
 AN UNKNOWN SCHOONER. 63 
 
 as there was no government properly so called in 
 Louisiana ? When their pockets were well filled 
 with golden loot, they even ventured boldly into 
 New Orleans or Mobile, and drank and gambled 
 and held high carousal with jolly planters and 
 reckless traders in the hotels and cafes. Men like 
 Lafitte and Rameau had a way of making fair 
 weather for themselves ; indeed, they were not 
 without influence in circles of society, the proudest 
 and highest. From Barataria Lake, on one side, to 
 Honey Island, on the other, New Orleans was 
 hedged in, so to speak, with a cordon of outlaws, 
 whose leaders dictated, in no small degree, the 
 policy of the city in trade and commerce, law and 
 politics. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was explaining all this to Fairfax as 
 they sat smoking on the deck of the little vessel 
 which was bearing them past Half-Moon Island into 
 the tumbling little sea called Lake Borgne. Mrs. 
 Vernon and Pauline were below, and a group of 
 family servants, huddled forward, were lounging idly 
 and enjoying the lazy swing of the waves. Three 
 black men, short, gaunt, with muscles like iron bands 
 on their sturdy limbs, were the vessel's crew. One, 
 whose woolly head was grizzled with age, watched 
 the tiller, and gave orders in a queer mincing patois. 
 
 " You do not mean to say, Mr. Vernon, that you 
 are abandoning your place at Bay Saint Louis," 
 remarked Fairfax, in the course of their conversa- 
 tion ; " you surely are not going to leave it to go to 
 ruin !" 
 
 " I cannot say for how long ; but certainly I am
 
 64: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 abandoning it," said Mr. Vernon. " It is no longer 
 safe for myself or my slaves to stay there. Besides, 
 if the war reach here everything will be destroyed, 
 and even if that calamity be averted, there remains 
 the general unsafe condition of society and govern- 
 ment here." 
 
 Pauline just then came from below. 
 
 " But do you think the British are really likely to 
 attack this coast ?" inquired Fairfax 
 
 " It is not only likely but almost certain," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " And with what result ?" 
 
 "Disaster to us." 
 
 At this point Mr. Vernon arose and went to speak 
 to the black man at the tiller. He was beginning 
 to fear that with the breeze as it now set they were 
 not going to be able to pass the Rigolets before 
 nightfall, and that indeed they might be forced to 
 anchor off the mouth of Pearl River to await a 
 change of wind. The thought was anything but 
 pleasant. 
 
 Already the sun was slipping down the west, and 
 every minute the breeze became more unfavorable 
 and also more fickle, puffing irregularly and at 
 times threatening to cease altogether. 
 
 The negro sailors were working hard and with a 
 great deal of adroitness to make the most of the 
 situation ; for they were not unaware of the danger 
 to them in spending a night in the track of the 
 Pearl River vessels. To them the thought of falling 
 into the hands of pirates or slave- thieves had all the
 
 AN UNKNOWN SCHOONER. 65 
 
 force of romantic terror possible to their savage 
 imagination. 
 
 Fairfax, in blissful ignorance of any special sig- 
 nificance attaching to the situation, abandoned him- 
 self to the pleasure of looking into Pauline's face 
 and listening to her voice. In some sweet way the 
 girl's grace and beauty, her smiles, her voice, her 
 proud, yet unconscious air of security, her mobility 
 and her indescribable shy boldness, so to call it, 
 seemed to Fairfax to be the center of expression for 
 the sea, the sky and the air ; she was to him the 
 interpretation of the great, mysterious dream of 
 nature. 
 
 Pauline may have been quite as unconscious of 
 the young man's admiration as she appeared to be ; 
 but, doubtless, some satisfying sense of her influence 
 upon him stole through her mind, a waft from that 
 wonderland of experience, toward which it is the 
 blessed privilege of every maiden to drift, half 
 expecting, half doubting. 
 
 They were both under the influence of a very 
 tender and beautiful, yet indistinct, mood, which 
 made it altogether delightful to sit or stand near 
 each other and merely play with the outer fringe of 
 sentiment, wliile the Water- Bird slipped gently 
 along between the yellow marshes. 
 
 Suddenly a sail, shining as white as snow in the 
 now almost level rays of the sun, separated itself 
 from a clump of oaks on a distant hummock, and 
 appeared to slip forth across a level, grassy marsh. 
 
 All hands on deck saw it at once. Mr. Vernon 
 sent below for his glass. A moment later, Mrs.
 
 66 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Vernon came up. She watched her husband who, 
 despite his age and bulk, was climbing with sur- 
 prising nimbi eness aloft in order to have a clear 
 view of the approaching sail. It proved to be a 
 schooner coming down Pearl River into Borgne ; 
 he could not make out its further description ; but 
 it appeared to be a fast little craft, well manned 
 and admirably handled. Although the breeze was 
 puffy, it favored the stranger and she seemed to be 
 skimming along very briskly and steadily. 
 
 Mr. Vernon came down out of the rigging and 
 gave some orders in an undertone to the man 
 at the tiller, then he passed forward, speaking in 
 the same tone to the other black sailors. 
 
 Fairfax caught at once the meaning of this quiet 
 work, and when Mr. Vernon came to the ladies 
 and said : " You had better go below for a while, 
 we shall need all the deck-room to work the sails," 
 there was more in his manner than his wife and 
 daughter noticed. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon objected to being confined again in 
 the stuffy little cabin just when she was beginning 
 to enjoy the sweet fragrance of the open air ; but 
 Fairfax assisted her and Pauline to descend and 
 then returned to the deck. 
 
 " I wanted to avoid a scene," said Mr. Vernon, " and 
 I don't like the appearance of the fellow yonder," 
 pointing at the sail. " It's no use for us to try to 
 run away ; you see that at a glance. Of course she 
 may be all right ; but I don't like her looks nor the 
 place she is coming from. At any rate, we've got 
 to take our chance."
 
 AN UNKNOWN SCHOONER. 67 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you suspect her of 
 being a pirate ?" 
 
 ' It is safe to suspect everything that comes out 
 of Pearl River of being in some way connected 
 with wrongdoing ; but still, this may be the excep- 
 tion." 
 
 " We'd better get ready to fight, then," said Fair- 
 fax. " Have you no arms on board ?" At the 
 same time his eyes sought the little swivel that 
 stood nearly amidship. " Is that gun in condition ?" 
 
 Mr. Vernon could not help laughing in his beard 
 at the young man's prompt combativeness and his 
 admirable coolness, and he felt a pang of regret 
 when he had to say frankly that it would be 
 sheer desperation to attempt resistance, should the 
 schooner prove to be one of the Pearl-River pirates 
 bent upon their capture. 
 
 " They are carrying at least three guns," he 
 added, " and I counted ten men of their crew ; 
 besides, they could sail right up to us and board us." 
 
 A cloud passed over the young man's face, and a 
 sudden realization of what might be at hand went 
 down like a leaden load upon his heart. The first 
 thought was what would befall Pauline. He stood 
 for a few moments like one who had received an 
 almost stunning blow. Mr. Vernon watched him 
 narrowly and was inwardly delighted when pres- 
 ently he shook off his weakness and exclaimed : 
 
 " But what are we to do ? Are we to let them 
 take us, if they wish, without our making any 
 resistance ? For my part, sir, I do not consent to 
 any such a thing. We can but add a very little
 
 68 THE KING OP HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 fury to their manner of dealing with us by fighting 
 them like men. Earnestly, sir, I insist on meeting 
 this matter bravely." 
 
 " So do I," said Mr. Vernon, " but the question is : 
 What course would, in reality, be true bravery ? I 
 have no shot on board for the swivel, and what 
 could you and I do against a schooner's crew." 
 
 "You have done very wrong," said Fairfax, 
 almost hotly, " to bring your family into this situa- 
 tion. It was a great oversight not to prepare for 
 such an emergency." 
 
 Mr. Vernon eyed his young friend, but made no 
 direct reply to his hasty words. He saw that he 
 could depend upon him in desperate need, and this 
 was the most and the best that he could ask just 
 then. 
 
 " There will probably be a light fog at nightfall ; 
 if we can give them the slip till then we may be 
 able to get away ; it is our only chance, provided 
 they are enemies. They have a long run to make 
 yet before they get into the lake ; meantime, if we 
 can pass the point yonder and find the mouth of the 
 Rigolets and the fog at the same time, we may 
 escape." 
 
 It was a well laid plan ; but the wind was refrac- 
 tory, shifting and growing more unreliable every 
 moment. 
 
 Fairfax could not understand Mr. Vernon's 
 apparent indifference ; it was so opposed to what 
 his own nature prompted under such a stress that it 
 exasperated him, while, at the same time, he felt 
 his own inability to suggest anything feasible.
 
 AN UNKNOWN SCHOONER. 69 
 
 Meantime, their little craft had been set as close 
 to the wind as she could run, and was making fair 
 speed in a northwesterly course toward a marsh point 
 which, in those days, had a hummock clothed with 
 low, spreading live-oaks. The fog was already 
 beginning to fill the atmosphere with a thin, gray 
 twilight effect, and the distant schooner's sails were 
 softening into dimness ; but the breeze slackened 
 until it could be scarcely felt ; moreover, as they 
 crept behind the point, even this breath was shut 
 off, and suddenly it was a dead calm. 
 
 Mr. Vernon ordered his men to cast anchor, and 
 then, lighting his pipe, he went up to Fairfax, who 
 was tramping back and forth, chafing helplessly. 
 
 " They can't reach us till morning, at all events," 
 he said ; " it will be all that they can do to get out 
 of the river." 
 
 " And so all that we can hope for is to lie here and 
 wait," Fairfax muttered, " and be done for in the 
 morning. It seems to me a tame way for men who 
 pretend to have any courage to choose. Surely, 
 there is some " 
 
 " Young man," Mr. Vernon's voice was very even 
 and low, as he interrupted, but it had a certain sav- 
 age timbre " young man, you are on my vessel ; it 
 is your duty to obey my orders ; you are going to 
 obey them. If you have any suggestions to make I 
 will give them consideration ; but understand that 
 I command here, and that you do not occupy any 
 official position whatever." 
 
 Fairfax stood amazed ; he looked at Mr. Vernon's 
 almost giant bulk looming in the gray dusk ; it ap-
 
 70 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 peared to dilate and take on the rugged outlines 
 that his imagination would have given to some old 
 buccaneer. The remote arrogance and the imme- 
 diate authority with which the surprising words had 
 been uttered seemed to come from a man not in the 
 least like the Mr. Vernon of yesterday. It was as if 
 the man's nature had suddenly reverted to a state 
 once its normal one and stood ready to assert by 
 sheer force an ancient supremacy. Fairfax felt the 
 sting of the situation, and at the same time his judg- 
 ment came to his aid. There could be no denying 
 Mr. Vernon's right to command his own vessel. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," he managed to say ; 
 "you are mistaken if you think me ungrateful 
 enough to offer any impertinent objections to your 
 method of conducting your own affairs. I did not 
 mean anything of the kind." 
 
 He hated himself the next moment for having 
 found no better way of expressing what, after all, 
 was not very clear in his own mind ; but his embar> 
 rassment was not in the least relieved when Mr. 
 Vernon, with a gruff chuckle, turned abruptly away 
 and went below. 
 
 Fairfax looked around him, half dazed. 
 
 Fairfax was not in a mood to doubt and accuse. 
 His recent experiences had opened his eyes to the 
 darkest possibilities of the life into which he had been 
 suddenly drawn so deeply. The feeling that he had 
 not managed himself in the least adroitly, and that 
 probably he had shown his weakest side to Mr. Ver- 
 non, helped to irritate him ; moreover, the danger, 
 if danger it was, hovering so near to Pauline affect-
 
 AN UNKNOWN SCHOONER. 71 
 
 ed him strangely. This young girl had taken 
 possession of him ; he realized it now. And was he 
 about to see her fall into the hands of men like 
 Pierre Rameau ? 
 
 Mr. Vernon did not come on deck for some hours; 
 when he re-appeared a light breath of wind was 
 beginning to blow, and he immediately ordered all 
 hands to make ready to put the vessel under sail. 
 
 The fog, though not so dense as it had been, was 
 still too heavy to permit any distinct view through 
 it. When the little craft began to move, Mr. Ver- 
 non went forward. As he passed Fairfax, he said 
 in a low voice : 
 
 " Stand by to pass my orders to the man at the 
 tiller ; we must not speak above our breath. If we 
 can get through to the lake, we are safe." 
 
 By the lake, he meant Ponchartrain, and their way 
 thither lay through the main channel of the Rigo- 
 lets. 
 
 So gently did the vessel move that the ladies 
 sleeping below did not wake ; the only sounds to 
 be heard were an occasional creak of cord or spar 
 and the light ripple of the water at the prow. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was feeling his way toward the mouth 
 of the channel with nothing to guide him save his 
 sense of distances and directions. The wind was 
 somewhat against him and there was not an object 
 by which he could exactly fix his whereabouts. So 
 weak was the breeze, moreover, that the vessel 
 crept at but a snail's pace over the darkling water. 
 It was near daylight ; indeed, the pale influence of 
 the morning was diffusing itself through the fog
 
 72 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 when the breeze began to freshen a little, sending 
 a ripple over Borgne and quickening the move- 
 ment of the vessel. The soft, gray vail wavered 
 and lifted perceptibly, and Mr. Vernon had just 
 made out the marsh-points at the moutn of the chan- 
 nel and was giving a low order, when suddenly a 
 vessel, distant a stone's throw, showed itself through 
 the fog directly ahead, and at the same instant 
 " Ahoy, there !" came in a loud, clear voice from 
 the stranger's deck.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LIEUTENANT BALLANCHE. 
 
 There was little space for action on the part of 
 Mr. Vernon, between the moment when his vessel 
 was hailed and that when it was necessary for him 
 to answer. In shorter time than we take to write 
 it, the two crafts were almost touching. 
 
 " Avast, or I'll blow you out of the water !" shouted 
 a voice not in the least nautical, but full of deter- 
 mination ; the voice of a landsman, who, if he could 
 not readily find the phraseology of the sea, was evi- 
 dently in no mood to be trifled with. 
 
 At the same time a twelve-pounder gun was 
 turned so as to rake the deck of the Water-Bird. 
 
 " Blow away, Lieutenant Ballanche !" roared Mr. 
 Vernon. " It would be a glorious thing to fire on 
 me and my family ! Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Blow away ! 
 Blow away !" 
 
 The little vessel was now passing astern of the 
 schooner and not a half cable's length from it. 
 
 " Hello ! Is that you, Mr. Vernon ?" shouted the 
 slim young officer who stood out most prominently 
 on the schooner's deck. He spoke in French. 
 
 "Aye, that it is !" was the loud answer in the 
 
 [73]
 
 4 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 same language. " I thought we should ram you 
 amidship, but we missed, good luck to you and to 
 us as well !" 
 
 " I wish to speak with you, sir," called out the 
 young officer. " It is very important." 
 
 The two vessels were already going apart rapidly, 
 their courses being different ; but every word was 
 heard, so favorable was everything to the convey., 
 ance of sounds. 
 
 Fairfax felt a load fall from his breast at this sud- 
 den turn in an adventure which but a moment 
 before had filled him with such dismay as only 
 youth and love and the thought of swift calamity to 
 the one most dear to him could engender. In the 
 stress of the apparent crisis he had thought only of 
 the girl ; and now that the strain was over, it seemed 
 to him as if the same breath that had blown away 
 his distress on Pauline's account had also lifted the 
 fog ; for the next moment the gray vail was so 
 removed that the young officer on board the 
 schooner came into clear relief against the tall 
 marsh grass on the point beyond. His features 
 could not be made out ; but his form was tall, slen- 
 der, graceful, and his attitude striking in the 
 extreme. He wore the undress uniform of a lieu- 
 tenant of infantry in the United States Army. 
 
 A half-hour later, the two vessels lay alongside 
 of each other, and Lieutenant Ballanche came 
 aboard of the Water-Bird. Fairfax watched him 
 climb the rope from the gig to the deck ; and at the 
 request of Mr. Vernon went forward to be intro- 
 duced to him.
 
 LIEUTENANT BALLANCHE. 75 
 
 The two young men shook hands and their eyes 
 met steadily and frankly. Any shrewd observer 
 would have said that they were mutually well 
 impressed at first glance. 
 
 Edouard Ballanche was a Creole from head to 
 foot ; that is, he was a Frenchman modified by the 
 influences of American birth and experience. In 
 his face burned the half-subdued fire of a passion- 
 ate yet naturally gentle and tender nature, fortified 
 and specialized by intimate acquaintance with 
 almost every form of danger. You might have 
 read in his eyes that he had seen duels ; that life, 
 though precious to him, was worn as a garment to 
 be flung aside as lightly as a coat or glove ; that 
 honor was a word of unlimited significance to him. 
 In speech he showed that deliberate facility which 
 always suggests the cut and thrust and parry of a 
 master swordsman. The impression he made was 
 one of efficiency, courage and readiness, singularly 
 blended with lightness, grace and superficial good 
 humor. 
 
 He shook hands cordially with Mr. Vernon, and 
 turned to acknowledge the introduction of Fairfax 
 just as Pauline came from below. 
 
 " I took you for a pirate," said Mr. Vernon, " and 
 was running away from you as fast as I could, I 
 thought ; but here we are, boarded by you, and at 
 your mercy." 
 
 " The mistake was mutual, sir ; I thought that 
 you were on unlawful business of some sort, and 
 have been all night afraid that you had got away 
 from me. I am compelled to be vigilant now ;
 
 76 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND, 
 
 I hope, sir, that I have not troubled you too 
 greatly. 
 
 " Your vigilance is something that no American 
 patriot can grumble at," said Mr. Vernon. " Is 
 there anything new from the seat of war ? Any- 
 thing about to turn up ?'' 
 
 " Nothing has been made public," replied the 
 lieutenant, guardedly. " What may transpire at 
 any moment is hard to foresee ; doubtless we shall 
 have our turn at the game of war down here in due 
 time." 
 
 " You may speak freely in the presence of my 
 friend here," remarked Mr. Vernon, with a smile 
 at Ballanche's caution, concealed almost though it 
 was ; " he is one of us." 
 
 " I should trust him with my life," promptly 
 responded the lieutenant, giving Fairfax again that 
 straight frank look of perfect confidence. " What I 
 wanted to say to you, Mr. Vernon, is that it is not 
 safe to keep your family or your property any 
 longer at Bay Saint Louis. The British may sail in 
 upon us any day ; indeed, we are expecting them 
 soon." 
 
 It was hard for Lieutenant Ballanche, with all his 
 politeness, to keep his gaze away from Pauline. 
 
 Fairfax was not aware that she had come on 
 deck, else he would have noticed the suppressed 
 enthusiasm of Ballanche's glances toward the hatch- 
 way. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Vernon discovered the presence 
 of his daughter, he took Lieutenant Ballanche by 
 the arm and led him toward her.
 
 LIEUTENANT BALLANCHE. 77 
 
 Fairfax turned in time to see the tall Creole bow- 
 ing low over her hand. 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood there like some grizzly giant of 
 old, his shoulders and head looming heavily, while 
 his daughter seemed to reflect upon him a sugges- 
 tion of youthfulness blending with his show of years. 
 Fairfax saw that Mr. Vernon regarded the young 
 officer with emphatic interest and confidence, gave 
 him distinguished consideration indeed, and that 
 this marked attention seemed to be received quite 
 as a matter of course. There was but a short con- 
 versation, and certainly nothing important was 
 said ; nevertheless, in some indirect way Fairfax 
 caught from it a singularly vivid impression of being 
 thrust far away and of passing out of consider- 
 ation. 
 
 After a little while, however, Ballanche bowed to 
 Pauline, and, taking Mr. Vernon 's arm with a con- 
 fidential touch, led him to a farther part of the deck 
 where they could converse without being over- 
 heard. 
 
 Fairfax turned about, and with folded arms stood 
 apart, scarcely thinking, but wrapped in a mood 
 that filled the air about him with confused and 
 indefinable apprehensions. He was not aware that 
 Pauline had come near until she spoke, and then 
 he started perceptibly (to himself, if not to her), and 
 looked down at her as if from a great distance. We 
 must remember that he had not slept during the 
 night ; this might, to a degree, account for the 
 unnatural slowness with which he responded to the 
 fresh, almost enthusiastic, manner of the girl, as she
 
 78 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 began to speak of the sun-glories that shimmered 
 over the lonely marshes of the Rigolets. 
 
 Meantime, Lieutenant Ballanche was informing 
 Mr. Vernon of the probability that a British fleet 
 was at hand to co-operate with hostile Indians in the 
 effort to devastate the whole country from Pensa- 
 cola to New Orleans, and that in the latter city 
 there was need of wise counsel and patriotic effort 
 to counteract the influence which had been left over 
 from the treasonable scheming of Aaron Burr and 
 his Southern associates. 
 
 " Things are in a bad condition," he said, " and 
 we need the work of men like you, Mr. Vernon, to 
 bring order out of confusion, and to urge the citizens 
 to a proper view of duty. At present, the most 
 deplorable indifference as to the outcome of affairs 
 prevails in New Orleans ; nobody seems to realize 
 our -dreadful danger." 
 
 " The government seems to me most to blame," 
 remarked Mr. Vernon. " Instead of building forti- 
 fications and fitting out such vessels as can be had 
 for defense, it is spending most of its time and 
 money searching for imaginary robbers and impos- 
 sible pirates." 
 
 " It is true that our defenses are of no value, but 
 you are wrong in thinking that our outlaws are 
 imaginary. I have just been up Pearl River and to 
 Honey Island, where robbers are more numerous 
 than honest citizens. It is not of these, how- 
 ever, that we need to speak ; bad as they are, they 
 are less dangerous than those citizens, ostensibly 
 respectable and worthy, who use their apparent
 
 LIEUTENANT BALLANCHE. 79 
 
 social superiority as a cloak to hide the villainies 
 they encourage." 
 
 Ballanche spoke with an earnestness amounting 
 almost to vehemence, and by the half closing of his 
 eyes and a certain immobility of all his features, his 
 face took on an intensely resolute expression. 
 
 Mr. Vemon looked calmly at him, as if by a sort 
 of masterful scrutiny he could read his inmost 
 thoughts and draw from them a more comprehen- 
 sive meaning than the speaker himself realized in 
 them. Presently he said : 
 
 " You may be right, lieutenant ; but, for my part, 
 I see many sides to the question. New Orleans and 
 Louisiana owe very little to any government, save 
 that which they themselves represent. Understand, 
 nevertheless, that I am for allegiance to the govern- 
 ment at Washington, or at whatever other place the 
 United States councils may meet, and that I am for 
 a rigorous defense of New Orleans against any 
 British force that may come ; but I should advise 
 careful speaking when it comes to characterizing 
 our citizens as encouragers of villainies." 
 
 " But perhaps, sir, you do not know the condition 
 of things in New Orleans." 
 
 " Lieutenant, I do know. How could I help 
 knowing ? I knew before you were born ; I have 
 know ever since ; I know now." 
 
 Ballanche made a slight, quick movement and 
 something like an almost invisible flush leaped into 
 his olive-brown cheeks. Mr. Vernon's voice had 
 been so deep and powerful and his attitude so sug- 
 gestive of virile or leonine superiority that the
 
 80 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 young man had felt a shock, which for the moment 
 confused him. 
 
 " What reliable word have you that a British fleet 
 is near here ?" Mr. Vernon continued, his manner 
 changing to one of mere inquiry. 
 
 "None. The activity of the Indians and the 
 presence of foreign emissaries among the tribes 
 seem to indicate, however, that a strong movement 
 is to be made." 
 
 " And what did you succeed in doig toward sup- 
 pressing the Pearl-River robbers?" Mr. Vernon 
 presently asked. 
 
 " Of course, I did nothing nothing seems possible 
 in the matter at present but I found out a good 
 deal about them, and have been thinking over a 
 plan by which it might be possible to serve both 
 them and the country." 
 
 " That would be a singular achievement, I should 
 say." 
 
 " Yes, at first thought, it would appear so ; but I 
 believe it can be done." 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood waiting for the lieutenant to 
 explain ; but he did not urge him to proceed even 
 by a look. 
 
 " If amnesty were tendered to all of the outlaws 
 who should join our military forces and do service 
 for the country, I believe that most of them would 
 accept the offer in good faith. At all events, I am 
 going to lay the matter before the governor." 
 
 Mr. Vernon made no remark ; he stood in the 
 attitude of a respectful listener whose mind had run 
 ahead of what his companion had been saying ; and
 
 LIEUTENANT BALLANCDE. 81 
 
 when Lieutenant Ballanche looked into his strange, 
 tleep eyes, they were quite inscrutable. 
 
 " What do you think of the plan ?" the young man 
 inquired. " Is it not worth trying ?" 
 
 " It may be ; but what do you know of the feeling 
 among the freebooters themselves on the subject ?" 
 
 " I have some reason to believe that most of them 
 would be glad to quit the life of outlaws. If the 
 leaders can be reached the thing can be accom- 
 plished, I am almost sure." 
 
 " Who are the leaders ?" 
 
 " It is not easy to find out. Of course Lafitte has 
 all the Baratarian pirates under his thumb. But, 
 although the mysterious Pierre Rameau is called 
 King of Honey Island, I have found out to my sat- 
 isfaction that there is one above him in command 
 of the great Pearl River and inland organization ; 
 and that one lives in New Orleans, directing the 
 proceedings from his safe position in the midst of 
 the highest society of the city." 
 
 " And who is he ?" 
 
 " I think that I know, but I cannot yet breathe 
 his name in this connection ; it would create a wild 
 scene, I can assure you, sir," 
 
 Mr. Vernon folded his arms high upon his broad 
 chest and appeared to lift himself until he showed 
 taller than even the tall Creole. 
 
 " If you begin to stir up records in New Orleans," 
 he remarked, " you will soon have a heavy load on 
 your hands. My own opinion is that nothing wilt 
 be gained by any negotiations with pirates. The 
 country can fight its battles without them."
 
 82 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " To do without outlaws of one sort or another," 
 said Ballanche, " would be to enlist very few men in 
 Louisiana." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 "At all events, I shall make my report to the 
 governor, and he may do as he shall see fit." 
 
 "Are you sure that the governor himself is 
 entirely clear of entanglement with the powerful 
 alliance of freebooters ?" 
 
 Again the eyes of the lieutenant became sharp 
 and searching as he scanned Mr. Vernon's massive 
 face, and said : 
 
 " Do you suspect him ?" 
 
 " Humph !" with a shrug, was the only answer 
 Mr. Vernon gave. It was as if the ejaculation were 
 meant to toss Ballanche aside. 
 
 A half -hour later the young officer took his leave. 
 
 " Au revoir /" he called from the gig as his crew 
 pulled away toward the schooner. His farewell 
 comprehended the whole group on the Water-Bird's 
 deck ; and yet he was looking straight at Pauline. 
 Fairfax noticed this, but seeing him going farther 
 and farther away, while Pauline seemed quite con- 
 tent to stay where she was, the artist smiled very 
 complacently. 
 
 Mr. Vernon ordered the vessel put under sail at 
 once, speaking to his black men with an intonation 
 that suggested impatience or great haste. 
 
 The most careless observer could have seen that 
 something in the conversation between him and 
 Lieutenant Ballanche had stimulated him ; but 
 whether with anger or some other passion no one
 
 LIEUTENANT BALLANCHE. 83 
 
 could have determined from his appearance or 
 actions. 
 
 Up through the Rigolets the little vessel went, 
 with a fair breeze and in as golden sunlight as ever 
 drove away a fog. The channel, a broad and beau- 
 tiful river connecting Lake Borgne with Lake Pont- 
 chartrain, flashed like silver between its grassy 
 marsh meadows, over which the herons and wild 
 geese, the pelicans and the plovers flew back and 
 forth like shuttles through the warp of the dreamy 
 weather. Here and there, scattered from distance 
 to distance, picturesque clumps of live-oaks were 
 set against the almost violet sky like orchards on a. 
 prairie.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CHATEAU D'OR AND COLONEL LORING. 
 
 Mr. Vernon's house in New Orleans, was, perhaps, 
 the most pretentious residence place in the city. 
 Built of gray brick, it stood well back from the 
 street, in the midst of old trees. Its broad varandas 
 and high-hipped dormer-windows, showing but 
 duskily forth through the foliage, which almost hid 
 the balconies and oriels between, were solid and 
 lieavy. The whole structure was massive ar>d 
 solemn-looking, giving the general impression of 
 exclusiveness and lofty loneliness. Under the live- 
 oak and magnolia-boughs were long, crepuscular 
 vistas, closed by clumps and clusters of orange-trees 
 burdened with yellow fruit. Along the high brick 
 wall that compassed the close grew masses of vines 
 incomparably thick and rich, and everywhere the 
 mocking-birds sang both by day and by night. It 
 was a home typically Southern. 
 
 A carriage-way, closed by a double iron gate, 
 passed between two stuccoed walls for a little dis- 
 tance and gave into a paved court, semicircular in 
 shape, the chord of which was the irregular outline 
 [84]
 
 CHATEAU D'OR AND COLONEL LOEINO. 85 
 
 of one side of the house. Entrance to the close 
 beyond this court was obtained by a door of wire 
 lattice set in the street- wall directly in front of the 
 steps leading up to the main hall, where two huge 
 brick and stucco columns, heavily fluted, rose to 
 support the roof of the veranda. 
 
 The grounds were large and everywhere showed 
 that neither money nor care had been grudgingly 
 spent to add beauty and comfort to the place. From 
 base to roof, the house suggested in every angle and 
 curve the wealth, pride and taste of its owner ; but 
 it also suggested more ; the peculiar civilization 
 grown out of the old Louisiana colonial life and out 
 of the strange vicissitudes and exigencies of the 
 development of New Orleans spoke through the 
 architecture and surroundings. There were flowers 
 everywhere, especially roses and cactuses, making 
 the dusky air flash with colors blended perfumes 
 coming and going with the wind-pulses and all 
 around and above the soft, satin rustle of leaves. 
 
 Mr. Vernon had named his place Chateau d'Or. 
 He liked the name, he said, because a vessel that 
 brought him good luck had borne it ; but he never 
 told what the good luck was or what had become of 
 the vessel. It seemed to delight him no little when 
 he was able to excite curiosity on this subject, only 
 to leave it altogether unsatisfied. The name, in 
 accordance with a custom still lingering in the cre- 
 ole country, was set in large letters over the gate, 
 and still higher up was the sketch of a ship undet 
 full sail. 
 
 The Vernou household was well known to almost
 
 86 THE KING OP HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 everybody in the city ; that is, the place and the 
 family name were familiar to the ears and eyes of 
 the people ; but there were comparatively few per- 
 sons who had gained anything like a "visiting 
 acquaintance " with the family. The circle of .Mrs. 
 Vernon's friends was, however, as select as it was 
 small ; and as for Pauline, she had but recently ven- 
 tured into society without the formalities of a set 
 dtbut. Mr. Vernon himself was, without being what 
 we call a public man, a leader of the people. His 
 influence was as powerful as it was general, and it 
 was exerted without effort and, apparently, without 
 ambition on his part. His long residence in Louisi- 
 ana, his personal force and his great wealth had com- 
 bined to give him this hold upon the people from 
 highest to lowest, and yet no one could say that he 
 was easily approached. He took no public part in 
 the affairs of the State or the city ; but his influence 
 was always sought when matters of grave import- 
 ance demanded the use of specially sound judgment, 
 or when the more unmanageable element of the 
 people had to be perfectly controlled. He seemed 
 to possess the confidence of all the races and clans 
 of men in the city and, by some power, was able to 
 command them. 
 
 When Mrs. Vernon and Pauline found themselves 
 once more in Chateau d'Or they were as happy as it 
 is ever possible for a mother and her daughter to be. 
 Their stay at Bay Saint Louis had (although they 
 were probably not aware of it) been a powerful tonic 
 and in vigor at or. 
 
 Pauline went about the house and grounds sing-
 
 CHATEAU D'OR AND COLONEL LORINO. 57 
 
 ing like a happy bird, her face radiant, her step 
 light and her heart brimming with half-formed 
 dreams. There was nothing in all her circle of 
 vision to shade or to mar the golden promise that 
 filled it like the soft splendor of springtime. She 
 knew nothing of life's evils not even the plethora 
 so often attending unlimited access to the luxuries 
 of wealth had ever come to her and the abound- 
 ing good in her experience only urged her into a 
 rich development, a radiant blooming, so to call it, 
 which made her beauty of face and of form come 
 out like the blowing of a rose. 
 
 The city was very gay when the Vernons came 
 back to it, and Pauline found herself caught in the 
 whirl like a butterfly in a June breeze. There was 
 the theatre, there were the balls, the receptions* 
 the excursions to the country-seats of wealthy 
 planters nothing was wanting that would keep her 
 spirits at full flood ; and there was the library at 
 Chateau d'Or, where the romances that she loved so 
 Nearly filled many a mahogany shelf. 
 
 Both Fairfax and Lieutenant Ballanche had 
 called frequently within the first month, and she 
 had seen them often at the theatres and at balls 
 and receptions given by her friends. They had 
 been very attentive and very interesting ; each in 
 his way bringing to her receptive mind fascinating- 
 impressions and obscure, haunting visions of a 
 great world of experience lying quite outside of 
 her horizon. The young men were so different in 
 personal appearance, in address, in habit of thought. 
 in temper and in everything that goes to build and
 
 88 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 project individual character, that one served as a 
 foil to emphasize the other at almost every point. 
 
 Pauline, while she had had every advantage that 
 wealth could bring to her within the narrow and 
 isolated circle of environment, was still no more 
 than a provincial girl ; and her limitations, though 
 they probably enhanced to a degree her attractive- 
 ness, restricted her vision and compressed her 
 understanding in some measure. A society girl of 
 to-day, seeing one like Pauline, would call her 
 strangely unsophisticated ; still she was not less 
 delighted than most ladies would have been when 
 her mother announced that it was her purpose to 
 " give a party," as the phrase goes, limiting the 
 invitations mostly to young people. 
 
 When the evening came, with the grounds and the 
 stately house brilliantly lighted, the whole interior 
 wreathed and festooned with flowers and the black 
 servants all assigned to duty, it would have been 
 hard to decide which was the more radiantly happy, 
 Mrs. Vernon or Pauline. 
 
 All the windows and doors were open, so that the 
 gentle May winds crept through to stir the rich cur- 
 tains and to make the candles in the many-armed 
 candlesticks wave their silvery flames. Some of 
 these candles were made of myrtle- wax, taken from 
 the wild berries, after a local custom of the time, 
 and as they burned they sent out a faint, exquisitely 
 pleasant perfume, at once wild and sweet. 
 
 The rather somber mansion was transformed by 
 lights and flowers into something like a gorgeous
 
 CHATEAU D'OR AND COLONEL LORING. 89 
 
 palace ; even the heavy, black-mahogany furniture 
 caught a gleam and a glow. 
 
 Pauline hugged her mother, under the impulse of 
 a swift joy, when the time approached for the 
 guests to begin arriving. 
 
 " Isn't it all beautiful !" she exclaimed, almost 
 strangling Mrs. Vernon with her snowy, plump 
 arms. "And I'm so very happy! See how the 
 pictures come out, and how the statuary gives effect 
 to everything ! And the stairway how the fes- 
 toons of flowers and moss have changed it ! I 
 wonder who will be the first guest to come !" 
 
 " Mercy, child ! Do you wish to kill your poor 
 mother ! See how you are spoiling my lace and 
 disarranging my hair ! I shall not be presentable !" 
 
 But Mrs. Vernon's arm clasped her daughter's 
 waist and gave caress for caress with genuine Creole 
 vehemence. 
 
 They walked from room to room, in a final round 
 of review, hand in hand, and commenting vivaciously 
 on the beauty of the decorations. 
 
 " But I wonder why papa doesn't come ?" said 
 Pauline ; "he promised to be in by eight." 
 
 " Some affair or other has detained him," 
 answered the mother ; " you know he has had much 
 to look after since we returned. We have scarcely 
 had an hour with him for a month and more." 
 
 " I think he might lay aside affairs for this even- 
 ing, at least, when it would be so very nice to have 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, but he will be here in good time ; he likes
 
 90 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 such a thing as this ; he's never so light and bright 
 and engaging as when in the midst of a company." 
 
 " And you are so beautiful this evening, mamma. 
 He will be very proud of you." 
 
 " Ah, if I were young like you, you might say 
 that ; but I'm not going to flatter you. Do you 
 know, Pauline, that it is positively dangerous for a 
 young woman to think herself beautiful ?" 
 
 " Why, no ! If she really is beautiful, why should 
 she not be perfectly frank in acknowledging her 
 good fortune ?" 
 
 They were passing before a grand mirror set in a 
 bronze frame ; they both looked in and stood for 
 a moment contemplating themselves as reflected 
 there. 
 
 A momentary pensiveness passed over Mrs. 
 Vernon's face ; but Pauline blushed just a little and 
 smiled with an expression of sincere delight as she 
 glanced over the reflection of a slender, graceful 
 girl dressed in a gown of clinging, dull-white bro- 
 caded silk with a fluff of delicate lace at the upper 
 line of the modestly designed corsage. It was a 
 radiant face that threw back her smile, and the 
 white arms and throat with their curious bracelets 
 and slender pearl necklace shimmered softly. 
 
 At this moment, Mr. Vernon came in, accom- 
 panied by a tall, swart man. The two went directly 
 upstairs to the room prepared for the gentlemen's 
 dressing-room, but returned almost immediately, 
 when Mr. Vernon presented his guest to the ladies 
 as Col. Philip Loring. 
 
 The gentleman's bearing was military, soldierly
 
 CHATEAU D'OR AND COLONEL LORIXG. 91 
 
 in the extreme, and his form and face suited well 
 the air of studied dignity he wore. While not 
 strictly handsome, his features were strong and 
 well-formed, and his eyes had a singular power, as 
 if of concentration and steadiness. He was bronzed 
 by exposure to wind and sun until his face was 
 olive-brown, although it could be seen that it was 
 not naturally dark, and there was a white scar, a 
 saber-cut it appeared, running in a slender line 
 across a part of his left cheek and ear. His neck was 
 corded with muscles and his hands were shapely, 
 large and sinewy. 
 
 "You have a lovely home here, Mrs. Vernon," he 
 said, speaking French with a curious accent. " I 
 have been telling your husband that he lives like a 
 grand duke." 
 
 Mrs. Vernon had often heard her husband speak 
 of Colonel Loring as one of his most trusted friends ; 
 but she had never before seen him. 
 
 His smile, as he looked down into her face, was 
 peculiarly attractive, albeit there was in it some- 
 thing remote and inexplicably unsatisfactory. 
 
 " And you, mademoiselle," he continued, turning 
 with a bow to Pauline, " must be as happy as you 
 look, in such a place of enchantment. You will not 
 charge a rough old saber like me with flattery if I 
 tell you that you look like an especially dangerous 
 fairy in a most alluring bower." 
 
 Pauline's cheeks showed the slightest access of 
 pink under his bold yet not unpleasant glance. 
 
 "Your father and I," he added, " have long been 
 great friends, and I account it one of my far-apart
 
 92 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 pieces of good fortune to be here, even by mere 
 change, to-night." 
 
 " My father's friend is my friend," Pauline said ; 
 and she could not have accounted for the embarrass- 
 ment she felt in delivering this bit of formality. 
 
 ' And mine," joined Mrs. Vernon. " We are glad 
 to welcome you as a chance guest this time, and we 
 shall be proud to greet you as a privileged one here- 
 after at all times." 
 
 The conversation could go no further than these 
 stiff commonplaces characteristic of the period and 
 the place. Guests were arriving, and Mrs. Vernon 
 and Pauline had duties to meet at once. They both 
 turned away, leaving Colonel Loring standing, tall, 
 straight, grimly attractive, beside a magnificent 
 flowering cactus as tall and strange as he. Some- 
 how they took his face with them, clearly set in 
 their minds, and the scar on the cheek and ear was 
 as white and the features as dark and magnetic as 
 in the original. 
 
 Among the early guests was Lieutenant Ballanche. 
 He shook hands with Mrs. Vernon, and, after a few 
 words, passed on to meet Pauline. 
 
 " You were my prisoner the other morning. I 
 am yours this evening," he said, with a happy look 
 and referring, of course, to the little adventure on 
 Lake Borgne. " But you will be generous, I know.'" 
 
 He did not look so tall in his full-dress uniform as 
 he had in undress, but the fine high-bred air seemed 
 to be more pronounced. 
 
 Pauline had seen him frequently since their first 
 meeting. At present, however, he impressed her as

 
 CHATEAU D'OR AND COLONEL LOEING. 93 
 
 much handsomer than ever before. Not that she 
 really took time to think this. It was the impres- 
 sion and nothing more. 
 
 Fairfax came rather late. He had been delayed 
 on his way by a queer little adventure on the street 
 an adventure which, although at the time it ap- 
 peared to have no connection with his future, intro. 
 duced an active element into the drama of his life. 
 
 At the entrance to a dark alley, a struggle was 
 going on between two persons, and Fairfax heard, 
 through his open carriage -window, low cries of 
 anger and distress. He signaled his driver to stop, 
 and at once sprang out and ran to the spot. A burly 
 man was choking and beating a small hunchback, 
 who fought with tooth and nail like a tiger cat. 
 Fairfax called to the big fellow to let go his hold of 
 the dwarf's neck, and not being heeded, dealt him a 
 heavy blow on the ear with his fist. A watchman 
 appeared at this moment and reached the spot just 
 as the ruffian was trying to rise from where the 
 cuff had landed him. Some time was spent by 
 Fairfax in explaining to the officer his connection 
 with the matter. 
 
 The little deformed man declared that his power- 
 ful assailant was trying to rob him of a small amount 
 of silver money, but the accused stoutly maintained 
 that the money was his and that the other had 
 stolen it from him. 
 
 The light of a distant lamp set at the gate of a 
 private house permitted Fairfax to see the dwarf's 
 features but dimly, yet they were so unusual, so 
 hideous indeed, that they fixed themselves firmly in
 
 94: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 his memory. The watchman knew both of the com- 
 batants and, laying his hand on the little fellow's 
 strangely distorted shoulder, called him Crapaud 
 Crapousin. 
 
 " Crapaud Crapousin," he growled, as he shook 
 him rudely, " you are always into mischief ! How 
 many times must I chuck you in jail ?" 
 
 Of course Fairfax got away from this scene as 
 soon as he could. The delay, however, was longer 
 than this brief telling may make it appear. 
 
 When he reached Chateau d'Or his right hand, 
 with which he had delivered the blow on the man's 
 ear, was paining him greatly, and later he discov- 
 ered that he had broken a finger on the fellow's 
 skull. 
 
 " But you must have it attended to at once," said 
 Mr. Vernon ; " fortunately there is a skillful sur- 
 geon present," and forthwith he hurried Fairfax 
 into a room apart from the company, and sent a 
 servant to bring Colonel Loring. 
 
 " It's nothing," Fairfax insisted, as a matter of 
 form ; but his pain was by no means hidden, and 
 his hand was beginning to swell. 
 
 " A gentleman should never strike with his un- 
 armed hand," said Mr. Vernon. " Why didn't you 
 shoot the scoundrel ?" 
 
 " I shot him with the only weapon I chanced to 
 have," replied Fairfax, with a grim half-smile. 
 
 The music was swelling merrily and rippling 
 through the house ; the dancers were flashing back 
 and forth and in and out ; and the breeze coming in
 
 CHATEAU D'OR AND COLONEL LOSING. 95 
 
 at the open windows and doors gently fanned the 
 flushed young faces as they whirled. 
 
 When Colonel Loring approached and Mr. Ver- 
 non was about to speak, Fairfax looked up and saw 
 before him Pierre Rameau. He could not help 
 showing his surprise and astonishment. 
 
 " Let me present my friend, Colonel Philip Lor- 
 ing, Mr Fairfax. Colonel Loring is an expert sur- 
 geon ; he will deal cunningly with your hurt hand." 
 
 Fairfax was staring, glaring, his lips compressed, 
 his chin thrust out, his face white and rigid. He 
 did not hear a word that Mr. Vernon said. 
 
 " Don't offer me your hand, Pierre Rameau, you 
 base and conscienceless villain !" he exclaimed in a 
 low, measured tone of voice, husky with rage. He 
 appeared about to spring upon Loring and throttle 
 him. 
 
 Colonel Loring without changing countenance 
 turned to Mr. Vernon and, with a simple inflection 
 of inquiry, said : 
 
 " What does this man mean ?" 
 
 The wrath and the insulting epithets seemed not 
 to have affected him in any way. Not a line of his 
 face had changed its expression. He turned his 
 eyes slowly and with a peculiar steadiness from 
 Fairfax to his host and stood in an erect but 
 supremely indifferent attitude. 
 
 The indignation of Fairfax was irrepressible ; he 
 could not be still. Doubtless he would have made 
 a memorable scene of it if he had been left free to 
 act. 
 
 Mr. Vernon stepped between the two men and
 
 9t> THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 made a gesture that meant a command for them to 
 be silent, and when he spoke it was scarcely above 
 his breath. 
 
 " This is my house, Mr. Fairfax ; you are both 
 my friends and my guests ; if you are enemies to 
 each other, let me beg you not to make a scene 
 here." 
 
 " I never had the honor of seeing the gentleman 
 %efore," said Loring, in a tone that gave no sug- 
 gestion of feeling, unless it might have been that a 
 hint of contempt rang in it. 
 
 " You are the robber, Pierre Rameau," Fairfax 
 boldly declared. " You cannot put me aside with 
 your cool effrontery. I have seen your face once 
 before ; I would know it twenty years hence at a 
 glance. You are the very man who robbed 
 Vasseur. 
 
 " How can you call this scoundrel your friend, 
 Mr. Vernon ?" he added, after a moment's intense 
 gaze into Loring's face. " He's the very man " 
 
 " But, my dear Mr. Fairfax, you are mistaken. 
 Colonel Loring is not Pierre Rameau or any other 
 robber. He is my friend, just returned from 
 Mexico. I understand your feelings now," Mr. 
 Vernon went on, rapidly and earnestly, " but I 
 assure you that you are suffering an honest mistake 
 and your excitement to lead you too far." 
 
 " But, Mr. Vernon, I cannot be mistaken in 
 this matter. You are mistaken, sir, yourself. That 
 face that scar that man, from head to foot that 
 villain, when his mask slipped aside " 
 
 The melodramatic almost hysterical excitement
 
 CHATEAU D'OE AND COLONEL LOKING. 97 
 
 of Fairfax contrasted curiously with the perfectly 
 cool and even deprecatory manner of Mr. Vernon 
 and of Colonel Loring ; and yet Fairfax was very 
 steady rigid, indeed and his look was dangerous. 
 The apparition of Pierre Rameau could not be 
 counterfeit, and for the moment he felt that Mr. 
 Vernon could not help being aware of it, so distinct 
 and complete was the identification to himself. He 
 felt so intensely, under the sudden strain of recog- 
 nition, that his bearing was awkward and stagy in 
 comparison with the grace and ease of the waving 
 figures seen through the flower-draped doorway 
 giving into the parlors where the dancers were in 
 full career. 
 
 It was at this moment that Fairfax saw Pauline 
 pass across the field of his vision. She was danc- 
 ing with Lieutenant Ballanche, and her face was 
 illuminated with pleasure.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SOME SYLVAN SURPRISES. 
 
 Vasseur gathered together his slaves and his 
 other personal property and with them loaded two 
 luggers and a small schooner. Mr. Vernon had 
 warned him that it was no longer safe to remain on 
 the exposed coast of Bay Saint Louis. To be sure, 
 the warning was scarcely needed after the raid of 
 the cavaliers ; but Mr. Vernon did not refer to thin 
 danger ; it was the British fleet that was expected 
 to appear in the gulf waters. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the fleet did not come imme- 
 diately ; but the British were sending emissaries to 
 the Indians all through Alabama and Mississippi, 
 inciting them to war against the whites. General 
 Jackson had defeated the savages, after bloody 
 fighting, on the 27th of March, at Tohopeka, and 
 was taking steps to organize an army with which to 
 gain possession of the Spanish forts along the gulf 
 coast. 
 
 Everywhere among the white settlements the 
 rumor had gone forth that great military events 
 were impending ; that most probably an English 
 
 [98]
 
 SOME SYLVAN SURPRISES. 99 
 
 force absolutely overwhelming was about to be 
 thrown into the country, to ravage it far and wide. 
 
 The frontier people were mostly poor, uneducated 
 and possessed of but limited knowledge of the cur- 
 rent affairs of the world, and it was no more than 
 natural that they should receive an exaggerated 
 impression of the threatened danger. 
 
 They were as brave as lions, however, and their 
 patriotism knew no limit. Indian haters from their 
 cradles up, it needed no more perfect goad than the 
 British coalition with the savages to make every 
 man, woman and child in the Southern settlements 
 an implacable foe of everything English. Even the 
 outlaws of Barataria and of Pearl River, when at 
 last the test came, took the side of the United States 
 in the struggle, although justice had set a price 
 upon their heads. 
 
 Vasseur betook himself, with all his movable 
 belongings, to a plantation southwest of New- 
 Orleans, in the La Fourche country. He thought 
 that his slaves would be safe in this wild, out-of-the- 
 way place, and here, in the care of an overseer, he 
 left them, while he, dreaming of nothing but the 
 recovery of his jewels and revenge on Pierre Ram- 
 eau, went back to dog the tracks of that intrepid 
 and successful robber and pirate. 
 
 Mounted on a strong, spirited pony, he made his 
 way into the Pearl River country and found little 
 trouble in associating himself, under an assumed 
 name, with some of the free-and-easy inhabitants, 
 who were more at ease on account of crushing 
 defeat that had befallen their enemies, the Indians.
 
 100 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Like most of that class of men who had sought 
 the remote gulf -coast region to hide from justice, 
 Vasseur did not have the least respect for the legal 
 methods of righting wrongs or of bringing to pun- 
 ishment those who did him injury. His nature was 
 revengeful, and the only law he dreamed of appealing 
 to was that of which he could appoint himself sole 
 executive. 
 
 Small as he was, his strength was great, and no 
 wolf was more savage or untiring. Cunning and 
 full of expedients, sly as a fox and quick as a cat, he 
 passed from place to place, attracting little notice, 
 but always managing to collect, little by little, infor- 
 mation concerning the whereabouts and the doings 
 of the cavaliers of Honey Island. 
 
 The main purpose of our history will not permit 
 us at present to follow Vasseur in his pursuit of 
 Rameau, but the reader will understand the state 
 of society prevailing in the gulf coast at the time of 
 which we write if we sketch here a scene or two in 
 the by -play we are now in view of a by-play fairly 
 characteristic of the time and the place, and at the 
 same time important as a foundation for some later 
 developments of our drama. 
 
 Among the acquaintances made by Vasseur in the 
 Pearl River region was the preacher Burns. These 
 two men, after a casual meeting, held together as if 
 by the force of some hidden, sympathetic attraction. 
 The fact was that Vasseur's instinct discovered in 
 Burns a trustworthy spirit as well as a valuable store 
 of information touching the country, its topography 
 and its inhabitants. Moreover, the little French-
 
 SOME SYLVAN 8UBPJRISES. 101 
 
 man quickly made out that the preacher was not all 
 preacher that the old man had some important 
 object in view other than the comforting and saving 
 of the souls of men. 
 
 Burns read more of Vasseur's true character than 
 the latter suspected, but he did not reach his secret. 
 Each man, indeed, kept his innermost purpose well 
 shrouded. 
 
 They often rode together, Vasseur, on his stanch, 
 muscular pony, and Burns astride of a large, bony 
 animal, presented to him by a group of his rough 
 but generous frontier admirers, who had agreed 
 that his preaching was " wo'th a hoss, saddle an' 
 bridle ;" and in these somewhat eccentric journeys 
 they met many strangers whose movements and 
 purposes were more or less mysterious, and many 
 others whose open faces and frank speech pro- 
 claimed them honest men. 
 
 Vasseur quickly noticed that Burns made his way 
 by the point of his piety and with the wedge of 
 religious sentiment. The hint was not lost on the 
 ready Frenchman. He, too, was, apparently very 
 religious, very devoted to prayer and pious reflec- 
 tion. He even let it be understood that preaching 
 was a part of his life-work. If Burns saw through this 
 shrewd use of an impious sham, he did not appear 
 to notice it. 
 
 In the rude but comfortable cabins of the settlers 
 the itinerants were given welcome to shelter and 
 food in return for their songs and prayers. Often 
 enough the family would join in the hymn-singing ; 
 always the members would kneel during prayers.
 
 102 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 It was a persistent, universal element of the Ameri- 
 can pioneer life, this reverence for the simplest 
 forms of Christian worship. Even among the most 
 lawless and desperate classes the influence of relig- 
 ious sentiment went a long way, and the minister of 
 the gospel was treated as a sort of privileged char- 
 acter, to go and come at will and to be protected 
 and cared for by everybody. He was a variable yet 
 potent factor, an elusive but inestimable quantity, 
 in the growth of the strange civilization of the 
 backwoods. Like John of old, he was a strong, 
 rough, picturesque orator of the wilderness, bidding 
 men repent and prepare for the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 One fine morning in April, as Vasseur and Burns 
 rode along a bridle-path, a little way from the east 
 bank of Pearl River, going in a direction that 
 would intersect the Black-wolf Trail a mile or two 
 farther on, they fell in with a short, well-built, 
 black-eyed young man, who informed them that 
 he was a Methodist preacher on his way to New 
 Orleans. 
 
 This comely youth was indeed a typical fledgling 
 minister in appearance and was rather showily 
 dressed in clerical garb. 
 
 He was a pleasing conversationalist, soft-voiced, 
 versatile in expression, of ready humor and appar- 
 ently well acquainted with the country. His age 
 could not have been much beyond twenty-one years, 
 though something lurking in the lines of his mobile 
 features suggested deep and perhaps impressive 
 experiences. 
 
 The horse that he was riding was poor, apparently
 
 SOME SYLVAN SURPRISES. 103 
 
 old and certainly quite lame ; but his saddle was a 
 costly one, silver-mounted and beautifully finished ; 
 his bridle was likewise very fine. A pair of heavy, 
 silver-mounted holster pistols hung at his saddle- 
 bow. 
 
 " They were given to me along with the saddle," 
 he explained, " and though I have not the slightest 
 use for them, I could not well refuse them." 
 
 " I suppose," he added interrogatively, after a 
 moment's reflection, " there would be no harm in 
 selling the weapons and using the money when I 
 arrive in New Orleans ?" 
 
 Mr. Burns and Vasseur both said that they could 
 see no impropriety. 
 
 The three then discussed the peculiar hardships, 
 vexations and ludicrous adventures in the ministe- 
 rial life of the frontier. 
 
 They rode slowly along, on account of the lame- 
 ness of the young stranger's horse, their way leading 
 them through a wild, semi-tropical forest The 
 dense foliage of the trees met over their heads and 
 shut out the sky, while on either hand the giant 
 trunks stood so thick that the eye could penetrate 
 but the shortest distance from the irregular road- 
 way, save where here and there little glades opened 
 and let the sunshine in on crowded and bristling 
 clumps of dwarf palmetto ; and but for the sough- 
 ing of a brisk breeze through the frondous boughs 
 on high, the silence would have been unbroken by 
 any sound of the wilderness. 
 
 " I presume that one or the other of you, breth- 
 ren, will be glad to swap horses with me," said the
 
 104 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 stranger, with a humorous twinkle in his sharp, 
 black eyes ; " mine is, as you see, a most desirable 
 beast, especially as to his gait." 
 
 " I am sure that if you consider him desirable you 
 had better keep him," remarked Mr. Burns, his own 
 grave and wrinkled face relaxing a little ; " I should 
 not wish to relieve you of him." 
 
 " Me, I no wish ze good 'orse at all ; dis one suit 
 me var' well," said Vasseur. 
 
 The young preacher chuckled and turned a quar- 
 ter about in his saddle, so that his weight was all on 
 his left stirrup. 
 
 Suddenly he let fall the bridle-reins and, with 
 lightning celerity, snatched both the pistols from 
 the saddle-bow. 
 
 Burns and Vasseur found themselves looking each 
 into the yawning muzzle of a weapon held by a 
 hand as steady as a stone wall. 
 
 " Dismount both on the same side there, gentle- 
 men," came the cold, determined order, " and hold 
 up your hands, or 111 bore you, center through, 
 before you can wink !" 
 
 Then and there the young preacher robbed Vas- 
 seur of his money, a dagger and his horse ; and, after 
 placing the fine bridle and saddle upon the latter, 
 mounted, and, with, a mocking laugh, a rakish bow 
 and a kiss of tht fingers, rode away. He had touched 
 nothing belonging to Mr. Burns. 
 
 It is not known whether or not Mr. Burns was 
 taken by surprise when Vasseur, as did the disciple 
 of old, began to rage and swear and curse like a 
 buccaneer, his expletives ranging through the scale
 
 SOME SYLVAN SURPRISES. 105 
 
 of three or four languages ; but that he stood quietly 
 by, his face inscrutably mournful in its expres- 
 sion, his thin, bony hands hanging at his sides, is well 
 authenticated. 
 
 Vasseur exhausted himself of profanity, and then 
 was fain to put his own saddle and bridle on the 
 stranger's lame horse in order to proceed on the 
 journey. 
 
 Burns objected to this. 
 
 " Take my beast," he said, " it will serve your pur- 
 pose better, brother. The lame one will be good 
 enough for me." 
 
 Vasseur looked abashed, for the thought had 
 flashed into his mind that very second to do for 
 Burns what the other preacher had done for him. 
 
 "You need this strong beast of mine," Burns 
 urged, " to carry out your plans. Do not hesitate ; 
 he is yours, take him and welcome. I can get on 
 with the other." 
 
 The little Frenchman was inwardly startled. 
 What did Burns know of his plans ? Had he sud- 
 denly divined them ? 
 
 " You have undertaken a difficult, an almost im- 
 possible thing, brother, and you cannot afford to be 
 poorly mounted in case of need," went on the old 
 man. " This is a good, strong horse, and, although 
 he does not look so, is a very swift one. Take him ; 
 I give him to you." 
 
 It was while they were parleying on this subject, 
 Vasseur pretending that he was objecting to Burns's 
 generosity, that the old man stooped and picked up 
 a folded letter, the seal of which had been broken.
 
 106 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 He opened it without hesitation, and found it to be 
 a short note addressed to John A. Murrell a name 
 which, a few years later, was that of the most des- 
 perate and enterprising outlaw ever known in 
 America. 
 
 It would have been better for Vasseur had he 
 accepted the proffered horse at once ; then he might 
 have escaped the unpleasant experience which soon 
 followed. 
 
 Like many another pretender he lingered too 
 long to accentuate and collaterally reinforce his 
 assumed sincerity. 
 
 It may have been the steady, searching gaze that 
 Burns bent upon him, it may have been the old 
 man's singular expression of kindliness, or it may 
 have been the peculiar turn of the adventure just 
 passed through ; at all events, influenced by some 
 power, Vasseur stood hesitating and demurring until 
 three galloping horsemen armed to the teeth were 
 close upon them. 
 
 Burns saw the new-comers first and with a spasm- 
 like movement he fixed his eyes upon the leader, 
 his face shriveling and blanching in a startling 
 manner. 
 
 Vasseur turned quickly as the sound of horses' 
 feet behind him shook him out of his insincerity, 
 and it was now his turn to show amazement, sur- 
 prise and despair all condensed in a single stare. 
 
 The riders reined in their horses and halted a rod 
 distant, forming a finely picturesque group set 
 against the dull, gray trunks and dusky interspaces 
 of the wood.
 
 SOME SYLVAN SURPRISES. 107 
 
 Pierre Rameau was in front, mounted on a cold, 
 proud horse, whose nostrils breathed the air of the 
 wilderness with savage delight. 
 
 Vasseur, with the air of a wild beast caught in a 
 close place, looked this way and that and was on the 
 point of running off among the trees as fast as his 
 legs could carry him, when Rameau leveled a pistol 
 on him and bade him stand. 
 
 " What are you, gentlemen, doing here ?" inquired 
 the cavalier ; but neither Burns nor Vasseur could 
 answer promptly, so dry were their throats and so 
 stiffened their tongues. Not that either wanted 
 courage. But the situation under the circumstances 
 was absolutely overpowering. 
 
 " Are you deaf, you little half-nigger ?" continued 
 Rameau, as he recognized Vasseur. " Speak in- 
 stantly or I'll " 
 
 Evidently Rameau was astonished, although his 
 face retained its calm, cold, almost indifferent ex- 
 pression. He had not expected ever to meet Vas- 
 seur again ; taking it for a certainty that the little 
 fellow had been burned to ashes in the fire of his 
 own house. Here he was, however, evidently intent 
 on revenge, Rameau felt sure, and a most danger- 
 ous man he was to be hunted by. 
 
 " I was hunting my lost cattle," quickly responded 
 the little Frenchman in his own tongue ; " a man 
 robbed us just now." 
 
 " Don't lie to me, half-breed ; I know what you 
 are up to ; I can read you as if your face were a 
 book. You are up here dogging my tracks I have 
 heard of you prowling around for some time."
 
 108 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Rameau's look and voice were cold, hard, cruel 
 and Vasseur well knew that it was not worth while 
 to make any further attempt to deceive him. 
 
 Burns stood beside his horse in an attitude which 
 betrayed his intense excitement as much as did the 
 extreme gray pallor and the almost distorted con- 
 traction of his face ; but Rameau was too much 
 occupied with Vasseur to give the old man more 
 than a passing glance. 
 
 " Tie that fellow to a tree, Newkirk," said the 
 leader of the cavaliers to one of his followers. " Tie 
 him up and give him forty with a good gad." 
 
 The man at once obeyed the order. 
 
 Vasseur began to whine and beg ; he saw that 
 resistance would be madness ; but the thought of a 
 whipping was torture itself. When a boy and 
 shall it be said here ? a slave, he had known, on a 
 plantation in San Domingo, what the lash felt like, 
 falling on the bare back. The recollection coming 
 to him suddenly drew up his limbs as if with 
 rheumatic agony. 
 
 He pleaded in the name of all the saints he could 
 think of and prayed in polyglot profusion. 
 
 Newkirk, aided by one of his fellows, seized him 
 and, despite his struggles, placed him in a hugging 
 attitude against a tree, where they bound him 
 securely. 
 
 " Now cut some switches and give him a sound 
 basting," said Rameau. " After he has been thor- 
 oughly tickled, maybe he won't be so anxious to 
 'aunt lost cattle in these woods !"
 
 SOME SYLVAN SURPRISES. 109 
 
 Then, while the men were selecting their gads, he 
 turned to Burns. 
 
 " And are you a cattle-hunter, too ?" he inquired 
 with sarcastic intonation. " What have you got to 
 say for yourself ?" 
 
 The old man made a great effort, but his lips 
 moved without giving forth a sound. Three times 
 he tried to speak, his parched tongue crisping in his 
 mouth like a frost-dried leaf. 
 
 " Some cat has got your tongue, too, eh ! Perhaps 
 you would like a few lashes before speaking to a 
 gentleman. Is that it ?" 
 
 Rameau said these words while looking hard into 
 the old man's writhing face. As he did so, he felt 
 a vague uneasiness, as of something forgotten or of 
 something strange about to happen, and he almost 
 shrank from the flaring yet aged-dulled eyes that 
 gazed so fixedly at him. 
 
 When, at last, Burns found his voice, he leaned 
 forward, and in a hoarse, rasping half- whisper, that 
 hissed strangely through the woods, exclaimed : 
 
 " At last, Kirk MacCollough, I have found you !"
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BURNS AND MAC COLLOUGH. 
 
 When the man Newkirk began to lay on blows 
 with a long switch across Vasseur's back, the little 
 fellow begged and screamed and swore indiscrimin- 
 ately ; but all to no effect. The time had come for 
 him to receive a sound basting, as Rameau had 
 ordered, and it was delivered with right good will, 
 the full forty lashes ringing out keen and loud. 
 
 "Who are you ?" demanded Rameau, half recoil- 
 ing from the name that Burns had spoken, though 
 his face showed no signs of surprise. " What do 
 you mean by your crazy words ?" 
 
 At the same time he rode closeup beside the old 
 man and. leaning forward, looked searchingly into 
 his face. 
 
 " Kirk MacCollough, where where is my child ?" 
 came from the dry, withered lips. 
 
 " Ah, I see you are crazy, poor old man !" mut- 
 tered the outlaw ; but he did not deceive Burns, 
 who knew that he was recognized. 
 
 " I might well be crazy, Kirk MacCollough, with 
 all that I have borne from you ; but I am not I 
 [iioj
 
 BURNS AND MAC COLLOUQH. Ill 
 
 am not." He lifted his hands, shaking as if with a 
 palsy. " Kirk MacCollough, take me to my child !" 
 he quavered. " Take me ta her ! Let me see her 
 once more and die !" 
 
 There was no intimation of recognition in 
 Rameau's eyes. He straightened up in his saddle 
 and made an impatient gesture. 
 
 l< Hold your tongue," he said, speaking in an 
 undertone ; " I will listen to you presently." 
 
 Meantime, the scourging of Vasseur had been 
 proceeding, evidently much to the amusement of 
 the onlooking cavaliers, and now the dust was ris- 
 ing from the little victim's jacket in thin smoke-like 
 puffs at every blow. Newkirk was a strong man ; 
 he made the gad chirrup on its way through the air ; 
 the jacket and undergarments were but slender pro- 
 tection against his vigorous strokes. 
 
 Rameau turned and coolly looked on until the 
 punishment was ended. 
 
 " Untie the cow-hunter now and let him go !" he 
 ordered. 
 
 Vasseur, trembling and apparently almost ex- 
 hausted, when the halter-straps were removed, stood 
 there looking about him like a worried and sorely 
 wounded wild animal ; his eyes shot out a strange 
 gaze of mingled fear and fury ; his teeth chattered. 
 
 " Go, now, you half-nigger thief," said Rameau ; 
 " and if ever again I find you prowling in this part 
 of the country, I'll have you hanged to the first limb 
 that's strong enough to bear you ! Go !' 
 
 Like a race-horse promptly starting at the word, 
 Vasseur bolted away, running nimbly, but with a
 
 112 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 certain feeble swaying of his body, and was quickly 
 lost sight of in the gloomy thickets of undergrowth 
 near by. 
 
 A grim half-smile showed itself in Rameau's 
 face ; it appeared to make the slender white scar 
 across his cheek and ear flicker balefully. 
 
 " Ride on," he said to his men ; " take the saddle 
 and bridle. Leave the horse ; it is not worth being 
 troubled with. I'll join you at Dick's." 
 
 The orders were promptly obeyed, and, a few 
 moments later, Burns and Rameau were left 
 together in the silence and the gloom of the 
 moss-hung woods. 
 
 Half gay, half melancholy was the snatch of song 
 borne back to their ears a bit of sentimental 
 rhyme that one of the outlaws, in a fine tenor voice, 
 trolled as he rode 
 
 " ' Her lover was false and cold was his heart, 
 
 And she died by his cruel hand ; 
 And the lover off to the wars did go, 
 
 To fight in a foreign land.' " 
 
 Burns was still standing beside his horse, and, 
 half leaning on the saddle, kept his deep-set eyes 
 fixed so that they seemed to burn right into those 
 of Pierre Rameau. 
 
 When the men were quite out of sight and hear- 
 ing Rameau said : 
 
 " Old man, what do you want ?* 
 
 "You know what I want, Kirk MacCollough. 
 Where is my child where is Margaret ?'
 
 BUENS AND MAC COLLOUGH. 113 
 
 " What do I know about your child ? Who are 
 you, to put such a question to me ?" 
 
 " You have not forgotten me. It is useless for 
 you to dissimulate. I am here Kirk MacCollough, 
 humbly begging to see Margaret once more before 
 I am dead. You are a bad man, but you cannot 
 refuse me this." 
 
 "You are evidently laboring under some strange 
 mistake, sir. My name is not MacCollough. I 
 don't know anything about your child." 
 
 " Don't lie to me, Kirk MacCollough ! It can do 
 you no g'ood serve you no turn whatever. I know 
 you. You know me. I have followed you step by 
 step, from place to place, from country to country. 
 You could not and cannot escape me. Where is 
 Margaret '" 
 
 This was said in a louder voice and with an into- 
 nation that in some way suggested the implacable 
 spirit of righteous fate. It did not, however, pro- 
 duce the slightest visible effect on Rameau. His 
 face was absolutely indifferent in its expression. 
 He regarded the tall, emaciated old man before 
 him as a satisfied beast of prey might have eyed 
 with soulless and careless eyes an undesirable 
 victim. 
 
 " If you, like the little black scoundrel whom you 
 have seen me punish in a light way, are a?sc clog- 
 ging my steps " He broke off, hesitated and 
 seemed to be reflecting with liis eyes cast down. 
 Presently, he said : " You must oe crazy, stranger. 
 An old man like you ought n t to be risking him- 
 self in this wild place."
 
 114 THE KING Vff HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Burns lifted one hand, as if in prayer, and a 
 strange, hungry, longing expression passed his 
 face. For some moments he was silent, his lips 
 moving, his eyes upturned. 
 
 When again he spoke, he seemed to have better 
 control of himself. 
 
 " Kirk," he said, very gently, " you well know 
 that I would not harm a hair of your head if I could, 
 and, moreover, you can see how utterly powerless 
 I am." 
 
 ' Don't call me * Kirk ' or any other of your fanci- 
 ful names !" exclaimed Rameau, his voice for the 
 first time ringing impatiently. " I am Pierre 
 Rameau you may have heard of him and I do 
 not deal gently with those who set themselves like 
 hounds to follow on my track ! Do you hear ?" 
 
 The old man drew in a deep, long breath, and 
 held it as one does who is helpless and hopeless at 
 a moment when some mighty desire fills the whole 
 of life. He made a gesture that signified both pity 
 and utter distress. 
 
 ' I will address you with any name you like," he 
 presently said ; " but a name is nothing. You can- 
 not turn me back or put me off by this pretense of 
 not knowing who I am. I am Max Burns ; I have 
 never had any cause to be ashamed of my name ; I 
 want to see my child, my Margaret, your wife. 
 Where is she, Kirk where is she, Pierre Rameau ?" 
 
 " Haven't I said that I don't know you, never 
 knew you, never saw you before, don't know any- 
 thing whatever about you or your daughter ? Old 
 man, you had better go home and be taken care of ;
 
 BURNS AND MAO COLLOUGH. 115 
 
 this is no place for you. Come, mount your horse 
 and be off with you, I've no further time to waste 
 here." 
 
 The irritating manner and tone with which the 
 outlaw spoke these sentences were edged and 
 pointed with the look he assumed a stare of 
 absolute disregard for the situation or anything it 
 might suggest. He seemed mailed in the flawless 
 armor of indifference ; he could not be touched at 
 any point. The cold, soulless, yet in some way 
 fascinating gleam of his long, narrow eyes re-in- 
 forced the chilling and irresistible influence of his 
 voice to a pitch that was torturing. 
 
 Burns realized with terrible distinctness that 
 llow and forever his last hope was being ground in 
 the dust under this man's heel. There was no 
 relief, no appeal, no glimmer of any ray even of 
 chance ; all was lost, gone. He appeared to shrink 
 and collapse under the pressure of the revelation. 
 
 Rameau saw this effect as he sat gazing some- 
 what aslant with a steady, unchanging expression 
 Of countenance. 
 
 "Come, come!" he repeated. "Mount your 
 horse and be off ! And let me advise you that you 
 will fare badly if you are ever found here or any- 
 where near here again." 
 
 Slowly the old man sank upon his knees and 
 covered his face with his hands. His horse turned 
 and touched him with its nose. The silence of the 
 great, dark wilderness seemed to center in the spot 
 and add an awful solemnity to Burns's voice as he 
 began to pray.
 
 116 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Uplifting his hands and turning his pallid yet 
 bronzed face toward heaven, he wailed aloud : 
 
 " O my God, hast Thou forsaken me ? This, O 
 Heavenly Master, is my hour of extremity !" 
 
 Thus far he proceeded in a passionate strain ; 
 then, checking himself, he closed his lips and 
 prayed inwardly, until he was gruffly interrupted 
 by Rameau, who exclaimed : 
 
 " Here, stop that tomfoolery ! I have said for 
 you to mount your horse and move off, and now I 
 mean for you to do it ! Get up from there, in- 
 stantly !" 
 
 Something infinitely brutal and relentless in the 
 outlaw's voice closed the gate of prayer with a slam 
 so to speak, and caused Burns to start and rise, 
 almost with a spring, to his feet. 
 
 Instantly the manner of both men changed. 
 
 " You old fool," said Rameau, " do you hope to 
 deceive me ? I see through your game ; but I am 
 not so easily taken in. Very small will be the re- 
 ward that you will ever get for capturing me." 
 
 " ' Reward' ' Reward,' " Burns repeated, " I sup- 
 pose that I never have deserved anything better 
 than this." 
 
 " You and that little nigger Vasseur are chums, I 
 imagine. Great detectives and sleuths of the law, 
 are you two fellows ! Set out to capture Pierre 
 Rameau, eh ? Ah, your little plan is all plain 
 enough to me now." 
 
 He had drawn one of his heavy holster pistols 
 and now cocked it with a slow deliberate motion, his
 
 BURNS AND MAC COLLOUGH. 117 
 
 eyes seeming 1 to lengthen and narrow themselves 
 like those of a cat. 
 
 " You choose to play a part, Kirk MacCollough," 
 the old man said ; " you choose to deny everything, 
 to spurn your own name, to treat me as a stranger, 
 to refuse me the one last hope of my ruined life ; 
 but I tell you now that you shall not escape me !" 
 
 His e) r es were burning and his voice was deep 
 and strong, with a decided Scotch accent. His long- 
 white hair and matted beard shook with the vehe- 
 ment force of his speech. He had straightened him- 
 self up so that his tall frame was firmly erect and 
 one bony hand was quivering high above his head. 
 
 " You shall not escape me," he repeated, with 
 awful emphasis, " even though you riddle my body 
 with all your bullets ! I never will die I cannot 
 die until " 
 
 " You are going to die right now," said Rameau, 
 interrupting him. " Old man, I leave no person 
 alive who says what you have said. You have 
 spoken your own death-warrant. I am your execu- 
 tioner." 
 
 " Kirk MacCollough, you cannot kill me you can-, 
 not. Death is not for me so long as you live ! I am 
 in God's hands ; He will not wholly desert me, now 
 that He has at last led me to you." 
 
 " Oh, you think that, do you ? And you consider 
 yourself bullet-proof, eh ? Well, the test is quite 
 easy." 
 
 He raised his pistol ; but instantly lowered it, as 
 a devilish light leaped into his strangely handsome 
 face.
 
 118 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " Let me tell you before you die that you have no 
 child. Margaret is dead. You are her murderer, 
 not I, although I killed her. If you had not inter- 
 fered with our love I should have been a happy hus- 
 band and Margaret my happy wife in old Scotland 
 to-day. You chose to treat me like a dog. I took the 
 girl and did my best for her. She proved untrue to 
 me in Spain, and I killed her. Now I am going to 
 kill you. Nothing can save you. I'm glad that you 
 came here ; it makes my revenge so easy." 
 
 Burns stood as if petrified by the outlaw's words. 
 His lifted hand fell by his side, his features took on 
 a stony expression. 
 
 Pierre Rameau spoke without any special empha- 
 sis ; but his words came forth from his lips like 
 bullets from a gun. The desperation of a sudden 
 mood induced by the memories arising in his mind 
 was not the frenzy of an ordinary man. Indeed, he 
 was not an ordinary man. The history of his deeds 
 makes him an unparalleled character. With him 
 anger was no more than mirth ; he seemed to be 
 passionless in the ordinary sense of the word. Any 
 mood was to him a mere phase of conscienceless 
 existence at the core of which burned a steady, in- 
 tense selfishness. 
 
 " You wish to find Margaret, do you ? You shall 
 find her, if there's anything in your Presbyterian 
 tomfoolery, in hell, where you both belong. You 
 forced her to desperation ; you made an outlaw of 
 me. I am going to make a dead man of you !" 
 
 By some such reasoning as this does the desper- 
 ate criminal almost always seek to justify his
 
 BURNS AND MAC COLLOUGH. 
 
 attitude. Rarely, indeed, do we find a man, whose 
 deeds have made him the horror of mankind, whose 
 name is sufficient to send a shudder through the 
 world, whose whole record is black with outrages 
 against the most sacred rights of others rarely do- 
 we find such a man putting upon himself the blame 
 of his condition and attitude. Somebody, he fancies, 
 or pretends to fancy, has driven him from the path 
 of honesty and honor. Circumstances have con- 
 spired against him ; ill-luck has dogged him. 
 Never once will he look truth in the face and say : 
 " I am a villian from my mother's womb ; I was 
 born an Ishmaelite .'" 
 
 As Burns stood there facing the worker of all his 
 misery, he presented the other side of the inscrip- 
 tion of life. His had been a career of right-doing. 
 From his youth to old age he had thought little of 
 himself ; his chief happiness had been derived from 
 doing good to others and from performing the 
 duties of his holy calling. Like most Scotch Presbyte- 
 rians, he had placed his faith in God with a serious- 
 ness and a literalness that brushed aside doubt as 
 the dust of death. From long habit of thought and 
 work he had grown into the form of his religion, 
 had shaped his physical and moral life to it, had set 
 his whole intellect in its groove and had come to 
 regard himself as the unworthy but specially chosen 
 object of Divine care. Never in his life, till this 
 moment, had he doubted that for every prayer his 
 God would offer relief. 
 
 Now, as in this supreme moment, his thoughts 
 ran back over the past, lighting up the strange
 
 120 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 route of toil, anxiety, distress, delay and defeat by 
 which he had at last come into the presence of 
 Kirk MacCollough, it seemed to him the very des- 
 pair of all despairs that this man should be able to 
 sit there, proud, vigorous, painless, a superb speci- 
 men of the animal man and from his silver- 
 mounted saddle, as from a king's throne, fling the 
 fiat of a merciless fate into his face. For the first 
 time since his youthful days a sudden whirl of 
 passion possessed him. His frame distended itself, 
 his eyes shot out a wild light, a foam sprang to his 
 lips and flew out in a fine, white spray as he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Imp of Satan ! Liar of Liars ! Do your worst ' 
 If my God has indeed forsaken me, my manhood has 
 not ! I am not afraid to die ! Shoot, you poor, pitiful 
 lying coward, shoot !" 
 
 He tore open his coat and bared his shaggy, 
 emaciated breast as he spoke. The attitude, the 
 look, the whole presence of the man flashed out a 
 spirit which, on the stage, is melodrama, but which 
 in real life is desperate heroism. He was expanded 
 and rigid with uncontrollable, ecstatic desperation. 
 His chin was thrust far out, his hands were clenched, 
 his arms stood akimbo. But for the awful stress and 
 sincerity of his mood the whole thing must have 
 been ludicrous. As it was, however, the magic 
 circle of the heroic, the extraordinary, the pictur- 
 esque was drawn around it, and it was set apart 
 forever as one of the focal points of human passion 
 wherein self- forgetf illness and courage merge into 
 absolute fearlessness,
 
 BURNS AND MAC COLLOUGH. 121 
 
 Pierre Rameau looked on without any change of 
 expression ; but he could not fail to recognize and, 
 in his own way, honor the old man's spirit. The 
 cool, alert, thoughtful outlaw felt, however, that 
 this very courage made Burns a most dangerous 
 enemy to be running at large. What might not 
 such a spirit, goaded to desperation, find it possible 
 to accomplish ? Self-preservation demanded the 
 death of this man, and with Pierre Rameau there 
 was no such thing as hesitancy or faltering. 
 
 He raised his pistol, took deliberate aim and sent 
 an ounce leaden ball straight for the heart of Max 
 Burns. 
 
 The old man flung up his arms and fell without 
 a groan. 
 
 When the loud report of the weapon had ceased 
 to clatter its echoes in the hollows of the wood, 
 Rameau gave the crumpled body of his poor old 
 victim a steady, searching look till it ceased to 
 quiver, then rode away in the direction taken by 
 his men, leaving Burns's horse standing stock-still, 
 with its nose against its master's shoulder. 
 
 A dark cloud had crept up the west meantime, 
 and now a dull roar, heavy and ominous, jarred the 
 air. Lightning twinkled across the chasms be- 
 tween great, tumbled masses of vapor. 
 
 When Rameau saw the approaching storm a 
 change came over his face. A close observer 
 could have discovered that this strong, crime-hard- 
 ened heart was afraid of the spirit that rode the 
 hurricane. 
 
 He urged his horse to a swift gallop along the
 
 122 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 trail, reloading his pistol as he went. It was quite 
 out of the question for him to reach any house 
 before the coming-ou of the wind and rain which 
 he well knew the cloud was bringing ; but he 
 recollected that there was a low, cane-thatched 
 shed a little way off the trail, which might serve 
 to shelter him and his horse. It had been built 
 by a man who had camped there with his negroes 
 while passing through the country. Rameau 
 reached it just as the first flurry of the wind 
 went over the tree-tops. 
 
 Behind this advance ripple came the great, ocean- 
 like body of the storm, and when it struck the 
 wood there was a mighty, rending sound ; the earth 
 shook, the sky appeared to fall, giant trees were 
 snapped like reeds, and the whole forest bowed 
 down before the hurricane. 
 
 Along with the wind roared a level current of 
 rain, beaten into white, whirling spray that swept 
 the ground. 
 
 Bolt after bolt of lightning fell upon the forest, 
 splintering the pines and carving spiral grooves 
 down the tough boles of the oaks. 
 
 Rameau clung to his frightened horse, expecting 
 death every moment. 
 
 The rain was a deluge, and it was driven with 
 such force that it was like breasting a mountain- 
 torrent to stand in it. 
 
 Some of the lithe, slender trees bent down and 
 beat the ground with their tops. The noise was a 
 tumult of the most awful sounds. 
 
 It rains on the just and the unjust, the living and
 
 BURNS AND MAC COLLOUGH. 123" 
 
 the dead. Burns's horse stood by the old man's 
 body and trembled, but would not go, while the 
 rain poured, the lightning crashed and the hurri- 
 cane flung the trees together in heaps.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SOME SMILES AND SOME FROWNS. 
 
 The guests at Chateau d'Or were not disturbed 
 by the dramatic scene going on in the room where 
 Pairfax, Colonel Loring and Mr. Vernon were 
 grouped together under such peculiar circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon and Pauline were alert and facile 
 hostesses, and as the custom of the time permitted 
 them a wide latitude in their method of entertain- 
 ing, it was easy for them to make the most of the 
 occasion. 
 
 Everybody felt the charm of the place, with its 
 flowery vistas, its effect of amplitude, its surprises 
 of light, shadow, color, perspective and its pervad- 
 ing air of generous wealth and hospitable welcome. 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche could not have been alto- 
 gether unaware that he was one of the chief attrac- 
 tions of the occasion, yet he showed no sign of such 
 consciousness. Everywhere he was met with smiles 
 and with words and looks of approval. This was 
 probably due as much to his military reputation as 
 [124!
 
 SOME SMILES AND SOME FROWNS. 125 
 
 to his fine form, his clear-cut face and his extreme 
 ease and grace of manner. 
 
 When he danced with Mile. Marie de Sezannes 
 the thought flashed through the company that never 
 had a handsomer couple been seen in New Orleans 
 society. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes was a dark brunette, 
 tall, stately and of superb form, with the perfect 
 skin, teeth and eyes which have always made Creole 
 beauty so distinctive and emphatic. She was richly 
 dressed, with just enough of dark scarlet showing in 
 her gown to contrast excellently with her complex- 
 ion. She was loaded with jewels till she glittered 
 like a savage princess, but her manner was exquis- 
 itely refined and modest. Tall as Lieutenant Bal- 
 lanche was, Mademoiselle de Sezannes's head rose 
 above his shoulder as she leaned on his arm. 
 
 Pauline had been dancing with a short, dark-eyed 
 young man, who was now telling her what a friend 
 her father had been to him. The reader, being 
 present, would have recognized this gentleman at a 
 glance as one of our acquaintances of the Pearl 
 River woods, known in history as John A. Murrell, 
 but passing upon the present occasion as Wilfred 
 Parker, son of a rich Tennessee farmer. They 
 stood for a brief space near the festooned railing 
 of the stairway, and Parker's quick restless eyes 
 soon singled out Mademoiselle de Sezannes and 
 Lieutenant Ballanche. 
 
 " Your pardon, but who is the young lady on the 
 lieutenant's arm ?" he inquired in his brusque but 
 fairly modulated voice.
 
 126 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " It is one of my sweetest friends. It is Made- 
 moiselle Marie de Sezannes." 
 
 " She is superbly beautiful." 
 
 " Yes, every one says so ; and she is as good as 
 she is lovely." 
 
 " Her face shows that. The lieutenant looks as 
 if he were in love with her. Ah What is the lieu- 
 tenant's name ?" 
 
 " Ballanche. He is the famous young Indian 
 fighter. He was with General Jackson." 
 
 " These fighting men make their way easily with 
 the young ladies. I wish I knew how to fight." 
 
 " Lieutenant Ballanche thinks that we may have 
 fighting here." 
 
 "Not to-night." 
 
 " You choose to make light in a very serious sub- 
 ject, I fear. He says that the British are going to 
 attack New Orleans." 
 
 " If that is the case, I shall set out for Tennessee 
 in the morning. It makes me nervous to think of 
 danger." 
 
 Pauline looked at him to see whether he was 
 chaffing or speaking seriously. Although he met 
 her eyes with a bold, almost boyishly frank gaze, 
 there was something in his face that troubled her. 
 
 He laughed, and said that he did not think there 
 was any danger of an attack being soon made. 
 
 The lieutenant came up with Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes on his arm. Both were evidently in high 
 spirits. Pauline presented Wilfred Parker, and then 
 some duty called her away. 
 
 When the eyes of the two men met, it was like
 
 SOME SMILES AND SOME FROWNS. 127 
 
 flint meeting steel, so cold did they appear and so 
 sharply flew out the commonplaces of polite but 
 meaningless intercourse. Parker very much desired 
 a further acquaintance with Mademoiselle de Sez- 
 annes ; for he understood at a glance that she was 
 rich as well as beautiful. Ballanche had no thought 
 of permitting the young lady to leave his side so 
 long as he could hold her. 
 
 Parker saw this, or felt it, and at once drew upon 
 his resources of boldness and enterprise. Self-reli- 
 ance was inexhaustible in him, and he always had 
 an expedient which just fitted an exigency. Made- 
 moiselle de Sezannes was impressed with the re- 
 markable personal charm of this handsome youth, 
 and was caught by the lure of his original and 
 forthright manner. Perhaps she discovered at a 
 glance that he admired her, and that he would not 
 be slow to fall at her feet. Sometimes a discovery 
 of this sort is very fascinating to a young woman. 
 It was much more apt to be so then than now. 
 Parker would not be shaken off by the lieutenant's 
 coldness, but stood close to the beautiful girl, look- 
 ing boldly into her face, and speaking with fluency 
 and engaging versatility. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes dropped her fan. In 
 those days, young ladies sometimes did this very 
 skillfully ; it was a way of testing the promptness 
 and gracefulness of her admirers. We must not 
 say that Mademoiselle de Sezannes' fan fell in 
 accordance with a design of this sort ; certainly, 
 she let it fall with a most innocent air and with a 
 pretty little start and a step backward.
 
 128 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche was a quick man, a man 
 whose ever)' muscle acted with almost instantaneous 
 promptness at need. He bent toward the jeweled 
 toy at once ; but Parker was already handing it 
 to Mademoiselle de Sezannes with an exquisite 
 "bow. Such celerity astounded the lieutenant ; 
 indeed, it actually offended him, and his face showed 
 it in spite of him. 
 
 "That is a remarkably fine ruby, mademoiselle, 
 in the hilt of your fan," said Parker, after gracefully 
 receiving her thanks. " Such a stone might have a 
 history." 
 
 " Monsieur Parker, you have very quick eyes," 
 she smilingly answered, " and you guess well. 
 This stone has a romantic history. Rochon, the 
 last of the buccaneers, gave it to my grandfather. 
 It is known as the buccaneer or Caribbean ruby." 
 
 *' That is very interesting. Will you kindly let 
 me look at it. I have a passion for old gems." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, monsieur. Every one desires to 
 look at it. It is a famous little pebble." 
 
 He took the fan and held it so that the light fell 
 favorably upon the rosy-hued setting. 
 
 " Superb !" he exclaimed. " It glows like fire and 
 has the color of a red cherry's juice. Thank you, 
 mademoiselle ; it is a great pleasure to have seen 
 the beautiful thing." 
 
 Parker was exquisitely dressed, and upon his own 
 hands and bosom sparkled diamonds of no mean 
 size. His air at that moment was that of a con- 
 noiseur delighted to have been permitted to look at 
 a marvel in his special field of knowledge. He
 
 SOME SMILES AND SOME FKOWNS. 129 
 
 lacked the peculiar air of ease and finish, so to speak, 
 that made Lieutenant Ballanche so notable in com- 
 pany ; but there were a self-sufficiency, a readiness 
 and a sharp vigilance that even the famous lieuten- 
 ant could not command. Just a hint of the devil- 
 may-care played over his features. Evidently he 
 was one to watch, if you would not have him beat 
 you in any race. 
 
 He looked boldly into Mademoiselle de Sezannes* 
 eyes, and said : 
 
 " Will Mademoiselle de Sezannes honor me with 
 the next dance ?" 
 
 Ballanche had been just on the point of asking 
 the great pleasure ; but the quick youth had fore- 
 stalled him. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur, with pleasure," she answered, 
 " but let us pass one dance, if you please, I am a 
 trifle tired." 
 
 " Take my arm, I will find you a seat." 
 
 He stepped close to her and bowed. He was so 
 prompt, so taking in some way, and withal so out- 
 right that there was no denying him. 
 
 A moment later Lieutenant Ballanche found him- 
 self standing there alone, while the tall girl was 
 walking away leaning with superb grace on the arm 
 of the spry little muscular stranger. A flush of 
 anger mantled the usually cool cheek of the soldier, 
 and he turned on his heel, as if to give an order to 
 a company behind him. He came near upsetting an 
 old gentleman of short but portly figure. 
 
 " Your pardon, sir." 
 
 "Ah, pardon,"
 
 130 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Both men bowed and apologized. 
 
 The old gentleman was Madatnoiselle de Sezannes 
 father, Octave de Sezannes, the banker and slave- 
 trader. He rubbed his hands together in a business- 
 like way and smiled with that perfunctory readi- 
 ness noticeable in men who make money by sharp 
 turns. The seal of his watch was a maltese cross of 
 gold set with diamonds. 
 
 " Pardon, monsieur, we heavy men move but 
 slowly and awkwardly ; we are in everybody's 
 way." 
 
 " But it is I who am to blame, Monsieur de Sezan- 
 nes ; I sprang around as if I meant to run away. I 
 was angry, however, and you know an angry man is 
 a fool." 
 
 He spoke lightly, but the ring of his sudden Creole 
 fury was not yet out of his voice. 
 
 " I saw, I saw ; I know what you mean," said De 
 Sezannes, with the air of one from whom nothing 
 escapes. " The young fellow swooped down like a 
 hawk and took Marie right away from you. Ha, 
 ha, ha !" 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche joined the old gentleman 
 but dryly in his little laugh. 
 
 Through a rift in the company and beyond a cur- 
 tained doorway he could see Madamoiselle de Sezan- 
 nes sitting in a tall, carved chair and Parker stand- 
 ing by her side. They appeared to be charmed with 
 each other's company. A little later they were 
 going through a dance together, while Ballanche 
 was taking wine with Monsieur de Sezannes. 
 
 In the meantime, Mr. Vernon was laboring to
 
 SOME SMILES AND SOME FROWNS. 131 
 
 convince Fairfax that Colonel Loring was not Pierre 
 Rameau. Loring- himself stood by, apparently quite 
 indifferent as to the outcome, holding his head high 
 and turning his half-closed, inscrutable eyes toward 
 the ceiling. 
 
 Fairfax found himself in a predicament very 
 ifficult for one of his temperament and disposi- 
 tion to control. He felt that he could not be mis- 
 mistaken ; he recollected with absolute memory 
 every feature of the face disclosed to him when the 
 loose cloth mask of the robber fell partly away on 
 that very noteworthy night in March over at Vas- 
 seur's place. The form of the man, the peculiar 
 beauty of his hands (long, shapely, muscular) and 
 then the ring on his least finger that of itself was 
 identification beyond doubt ; for no other ring like 
 that was, in all probability, ever made. Moreover, 
 the voice was unmistakable and the peculiar, half- 
 nonchalant, half -reckless air could belong to no 
 other man. 
 
 Still, what was Fairfax to say when Mr. Vernon 
 sturdily, even peremptorily, declared that the per- 
 son before him was well known to him, intimately 
 known to him, indeed, and was a valued and distin- 
 guished friend of his, just returned from a long 
 sojourn in Mexico ? It was strange beyond com- 
 prehension, and there was no disputing about it ; 
 for surely Mr. Vernon ought to know, and beyond 
 question he would not have such a man as Pierre 
 Rameau in his house as an honored guest. 
 
 Of course Fairfax had but a crude knowledge of 
 the social, political and moral condition of New
 
 132 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Orleans at that time. He was too close to the scene 
 for his vision to have a correct focus upon it, and he 
 knew but little of the comparatively recent history 
 of the city in which Wilkinson had schemed and 
 toward which all of Burr's treasonable plans had 
 gravitated, nor was it possible for him to imagine 
 the extent to which the lawlessness had insinuated 
 itself into the very life-tissues of New Orleans 
 society. 
 
 " I am sorry that this little mistake has happened," 
 said Mr. Vernon, turning from one to the other, 
 and trying to make the whole thing appear of no 
 consequence ; " but it's quite an honor, Loring, to 
 be taken for Pierre Rameau, who is reputed to be 
 the handsomest man in the South. You know my 
 friend Fairfax here had quite an adventure with that 
 renowned robber was robbed by him, in short, 
 and holds a just grudge against him." 
 
 "Ah, I see," said Loring. " I understand now. 
 He has taken me for a robber." 
 ."You've heard of Rameau ?" 
 
 " No ; but you must recall that I have been in 
 Mexico for nearly three years." 
 
 " Certainly. Well, gentlemen, this ought to be 
 satisfactory. Now, then, the broken finger ; let's 
 look to that. Mr. Vernon bustled a little and pro- 
 duced some bandage-cloth that a servant had fetched. 
 
 Colonel Loring promptly set the fractured bone, 
 and with great skill and rapidity applied the wrap- 
 ping. 
 
 " There," he said ; " you are all right, sir. You 
 will have no trouble with it."
 
 SOME SMILES AJSD SOME FROWNS. 133 
 
 " Thank you, sir," responded Fairfax coldly 
 enough, in spite of an effort to regain his lost temper 
 and appear kindly polite. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," remarked Mr. Vernon, laying 
 a hand on the arm of each and smiling from one to 
 the other in his large way, " you are my guests and 
 my friends ; be friends to each other. "Forget this 
 curious little mischance, this awkward mistake." 
 
 By this time Fairfax had shaken off the outer coat- 
 ing of his mood and with something like his habit- 
 ual frankness began to apologize. 
 
 * I am quite sorry," he exclaimed, " and chagrined 
 that I should have spoken so hastily, Colonel Loring. 
 I hope you understand my embarrassment, sir, and 
 will forgive my passionate words. I really thought 
 you were Pierre Rameau." 
 
 " It's nothing at all," insisted the colonel. " I 
 don't care a straw about it. Let it drop here, sir, 
 and be forgotten." 
 
 Somehow in an instant Fairfax regretted his apol- 
 ogy. Surely, this man was Pierre Rameau it was 
 he from head to foot. 
 
 Mr. Vernon, still inclined to be heavily impetuous, 
 kept his hold on the arm of each. With his double 
 muscles, not the least impaired by age, he propelled 
 them to the dining-room, where he made them eulo- 
 gize his wines and his brandy. 
 
 In the midst of a rapid and light conversation, 
 Loring suddenly exclaimed : 
 
 " Please excuse me, gentlemen. I am losing a 
 greater pleasure than even your company affords
 
 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND, 
 
 me. Miss Vernon promised to dance with me. 
 Excuse me." 
 
 And he hastened to the drawing-rooms. Fairfax 
 looked after him with gloomy eyes and flushed 
 cheeks. The bare thought of Pauline's dancing 
 with that man went like a leaden bullet to his 
 heart. In fact, just then his heart was particularly 
 sensitive in this regard, for it seemed to him that 
 Lieutenant Ballanche had been doing nothing but 
 dance with Pauline the whole evening ; and that 
 man, or boy, rather, Parker she had been unneces- 
 sarily agreeable to him. These were not exactly 
 the thoughts of Fairfax. We must acquit him of 
 actual petty jealousy. But somehow he felt left 
 out for the time being, or as if he had failed to 
 seize opportunity with manly promptness. 
 
 He wandered into the conservatory, where many 
 tropical plants were flourishing. Here the music 
 reached him in subdued waves and throbs ; the 
 brisk phrases of the violins were softened and sen- 
 timentalized by the distance till they seemed to 
 creep through his sense, trailing a nameless melan- 
 choly behind. He stroked his moustache and gazed 
 vacantly about. 
 
 Pauline felt some vague but troublesome stir of 
 excitement in her heart when Colonel Loring came 
 to remind her of the promised dance. It was as if 
 she feared him and yet felt drawn toward him ; as 
 if some mystery in his nature or character pos- 
 sessed a fascination, while at the same time it sug- 
 gested dark doubts. 
 
 There is a lure in vailed and shadowy things ; we
 
 SOME SMILES AND SOME FROWNS. 135 
 
 cannot resist the influence of those elusive elements 
 which, in some way, like fine films of connection, 
 set us in communication with the unusual, the 
 strange, the romantic. It is especially dangerous 
 for a young girl to come within the reach of such 
 an influence when a strong-willed and handsome 
 man is at the base of it. The snake and the bird, 
 the fascination of a deadly thing we all know how 
 nature lends to fatal venom the tender glow of a. 
 precious elixir. 
 
 Colonel Loring was an interesting talker. He 
 had travelled in many lands. His mind was stored 
 with recollections of adventure, of perils by land 
 and sea, and these he could set in contrast with 
 pleasant experiences of social life in many a gay 
 city of the old world. He was in the early prime 
 of manhood, strong, in perfect health, and he had, 
 when he wished, a way of sending his vigor through 
 his firm, positive voice into every word he spoke. 
 
 In his presence, with his hand clasping hers now 
 and again during the old-fashioned dance, Pauline 
 felt that she was acting a part in a romance, and 
 the sensation lifted the color into her cheeks and lips. 
 
 When the dance ended, Colonel Loring slipped 
 her arm through his and led her through a broad, 
 garlanded doorway into the conservatory. 
 
 " It is deliciously cool here. Let us take a turn 
 or two up and down this charming aisle. This is 
 like Mexico," he said, touching a vigorous cactus. 
 " I can almost feel the winds of the plains." 
 
 " Life here must seem very dull and tame to you
 
 136 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 after all your stirring adventures," she suggested, 
 looking up with frank interest into his face. 
 
 " No. It is delightful. I am enjoying every 
 moment of it. I wish I could forget my whole past 
 and begin anew from this moment." 
 
 There was a ring of infinite regret in his words, 
 along with something wistful, that thrilled Pauline's 
 heart. 
 
 She was about to speak with all the outright 
 sympathy of her impulsive nature ; she was going 
 to enter straightway into the spirit of his mood ; 
 her words were already at her lips, and her eyes 
 were upturned to his with an expression of earnest- 
 ness and deep interest, when, just at the angle of 
 he way between some tall vases, they came upon 
 Fairfax standing quite still with folded arms. His 
 eyes met Pauline's as she turned them quickly from 
 Loring's face. Then the two men exchanged 
 glances which conveyed no sign of pleasure. A 
 deadly hatred, indeed, which had been kept hidden 
 by both, showed itself ominously, as Loring, with 
 head high and a sinister smile on his lips, passed 
 on, taking Pauline with him. 
 
 She felt in some indirect way the change that 
 passed over the dark face of the man whose arm 
 she was touching, and something in the manner of 
 Fairfax affected her unpleasantly. At the moment 
 she did not examine or in fact fully realize her 
 impression ; but later, when Lieutenant Ballanche 
 was telling her that in a day or two he was going 
 away to report to General Jackson at some place in 
 the interior, and when she saw how piqued and
 
 SOME SMILES AND SOME FROWNS. 137 
 
 almost savage he looked as he glanced at Parker 
 who was dancing again with Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes, she suddenly understood or half under- 
 stood what was happening, save that it was impos- 
 sible to connect herself with it. These men, she 
 surmised, were, all four of them, ready to quarrel 
 about Mademoiselle de Sezannes, and the thought 
 at once suggested a duel or two. 
 
 In those days duels were of almost daily and 
 nightly occurrence in New Orleans and at the famous 
 dueling grounds of the surrounding country. Con- 
 sequently death on the sword's point or at the 
 pistol's mouth was not so shocking to think of as it 
 is now. The creole girl of our story's time could 
 not fairly understand the philosophy of it, but still 
 she recognized the importance of what was called 
 " the only method by which insulted honor may be 
 defended and purified," or as another old writer 
 states it : 4< the swiftest, the fairest and the most 
 satisfactory mode of settling matters of deadly con- 
 cern between gentlemen." 
 
 The party at Chateau d'Or was likely to be 
 pleasantly remembered ; but it was also, as we shall 
 see, the generating point for some disagreeable 
 developments and some strange and sinister com- 
 plications. 
 
 " It has been delightful, charming," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Vernon, flinging herself into Pauline's arms 
 after the last guest had gone. " Every one was 
 happy and how lovely the whole house was ! And 
 you were so beautiful, dear, so very, very beauti- 
 ful !"
 
 138 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Pauline returned her mother's vehement embrace, 
 and they were standing thus linked in each other's 
 arms when Mr. Vernon approached and encircled 
 both with his bear-like hug. 
 
 Standing there, the group was a striking one. It 
 was a living tableau of love as intense as it was 
 strange and beautiful. There were the effect of 
 high refinement in it and a delicate tenderness ; 
 but there was also something if but a hint of the 
 ungoverned and the untrained. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 COLONEL LORING AND PAULINE. 
 
 Fairfax went home from the party at Chateau d'- 
 Or feeling that it had been an unfortunate affair for 
 him, and yet he could not have explained with any 
 degree of exactitude why it had been so. 
 
 The adventure with the hunchback lingered in 
 his memory as something picturesquely sinister and 
 pathetic ; then Colonel Loring arose before him 
 whichever way he turned his mind, with the grow- 
 ing certainity that he was identical with Pierre Ra- 
 meau, the robber ; but above and beyond all, Fair- 
 fax was annoyed with himself, because he had let the 
 evening go by without paying any special attention 
 to Pauline. 
 
 He felt humiliated that he should have frittered
 
 COLONEL LORING AND PAULINE. 139 
 
 away so much time with the wound on his hand 
 which, after all, seemed so small a thing, while men 
 like Parker and Lieutenant Ballanche were boldly 
 seizing upon every advantage offered them for cul- 
 tivating the good will of Mrs. Vernon and her daugh- 
 ter. He recognized himself as one of those imagin- 
 ative, self-conscious youths who dream that the 
 smallest matter affecting them is of prime import- 
 ance to the rest of mankind. He could not resist 
 the impulse to laugh in a bitter way at the turn 
 affairs had taken with him. Like a small boy, he 
 had made faces over a sore finger, while the most 
 important crisis (as he now felt) of his whole life had 
 drawn past him. 
 
 Imaginative young men not unfrequently regard a 
 love matter with a sense of its incomparable value to 
 themselves, and they feel indirect but deep amaze- 
 ment when made aware that it is of little signifi- 
 cance to any one else in the whole world. 
 
 The truth was, however, that Fairfax realized in 
 a way how little right he had to connect Pauline 
 with any love-dream of his own. He had never 
 spoken a word of love to her, and this seemed inex- 
 plicable to him now. Why had he not ? Perhaps 
 he had been foolishly sure of his standing in her 
 regard ; he had taken too much for granted. 
 
 Reflections like these, while they made him 
 uneasy, as is one who consciously walks upon treach- 
 erous ground, led him to resolve that Pauline should 
 hear his plea and give him his answer at the first 
 opportune moment. Young men often make these 
 resolves and almost as frequently, perhaps, recede
 
 140 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 from them when the crucial moment comes. It is love 
 that makes men brave, and it is love as well that 
 makes them cowards. 
 
 Tho summer went by as summers do in that 
 beautiful gulf-coast climate with days that burned 
 through the noon and softened down to delicious 
 coolness toward nightfall, and nights whose dreamy 
 splendor made the Creole city, with all its gayety, 
 its intrigue, its excitements, a place of indescribable 
 allurements. 
 
 In the autumn, the English fleet was making 
 ready to swing round the gulf-coast. Colonel 
 Nichols had arrived at Pensacola, and acting for the 
 British government, had set on foot a scheme by 
 which he hoped to stir up the Indians to renewed 
 hostilities and at the same time induce the white 
 population of Louisiana to revolt against the United 
 States government. 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche went away to join General 
 Jackson, to whom he reported the situation in the 
 New Orleans district, and did not return until about 
 the first days in December. 
 
 Colonel Loring also disappeared, going, it was 
 understood, on a mission connected with some 
 scheme of his in Mississippi, while Parker, the 
 shrewd and self-confident youth, had bidden his 
 many friends in New Orleans good-bye and set out 
 for his home in Tennessee about the first of 
 August. 
 
 Fairfax had still another cause for discontent 
 which he made the most of. Colonel Loring had res- 
 cued Pauline and Mrs. Vernon from imminent dan-
 
 COLONEL LORING AND PAULINE. 
 
 ger in the midst of a .crowd of rioting sailors and 
 boatmen. The ladies were in the Vernon carriage, 
 and just as it turned a street-corner they found 
 themselves surrounded by a mob of men who were 
 fighting with staves, knives, pistols, cutlasses and 
 whatever other weapons they could command. 
 
 Aside from the actual danger of the situation ; 
 the brutal fury of the combatants ; the atrocious 
 profanity and the sickening sounds of slashing and 
 stabbing and shooting ; the bewilderment and 
 fright of the coachman, who presently abandoned 
 his place to seek safety in flight, and the wild rear- 
 ing and plunging of the horses in the midst of the 
 crowding and heedless mass of rioters the ladies 
 had good cause to faint at the mere thought of what 
 brutality the scene implied, if they had been of the 
 temperament dear to old romance. They called 
 loudly for help, but who was likely to hear or to 
 heed ? 
 
 Fairfax chanced to be near the outer fringe of 
 the crowd and recognized Pauline's voice. He 
 nished to the spot, only to find that Colonel Loring 
 had already rendered all the service that was needed 
 had sprung, indeed, to the coachman's seat and 
 was turning the horses down a narrow side-street. 
 The eyes of the two men met for an instant at this 
 point, Loring giving to his glance an expression of 
 triumph, as Fairfax thought, and Fairfax himself 
 scowling so viciously that, although Pauline looked 
 straight into his face, she did not recognize him at 
 the time. 
 
 Colonel Loring's promptness and nerve doubtless
 
 142 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 saved the ladies from death or great injury. He 
 drove the carriage to Chateau d'Or and received 
 such thanks and such looks of gratitude as Fairfax 
 would have fought around the earth to win. 
 
 " I don't see how you did it, and so easily, too !" 
 said Mrs. Vernon, after they had entered the parlor. 
 Loring was still standing, hat in hand. " Pleaae sit 
 down, Colonel Loring, and tell us all about it. 
 Mercy, how my heart is still fluttering ! How did 
 you manage to get to us and take us out of that 
 horrible place ?" 
 
 " It was nothing," he said, with his cold, peculiar 
 smile. " I merely turned the horses and drove 
 away. Any little boy could have done the same." 
 
 " But, no ; that were impossible, sir," Pauline 
 urged. " Nobody but you could have done what 
 you did. When that dark, little man sprang at your 
 throat with the knife I thought he had stabbed you ; 
 but you struck him with your hand and he fell quite 
 as if he had been shot. Oh, it was dreadful, and 
 you did not appear to care for it at all !" 
 
 Loring's narrow, fascinating eyes gazed steadily 
 into her face as he said : 
 
 " 1 have been accustomed to dangers so much 
 greater than that little affair could possibly bring, 
 that I hardly count myself a hero, Miss Vernon, for 
 having piloted you out of a trifling annoyance. 
 Pray do not think of it as a matter of any import- 
 ance whatever. I deem it a bit of good fortune for 
 me that I can be at Chateau d'Or once more before 
 I take my leave of New Orleans for a time." 
 
 "And you are going away?" Mrs. Vernon
 
 COLONEL LORING AND PAULINE. 
 
 inquired with quick interest, that shaded sharply 
 into regret. " Going away from us ?" 
 
 "Yes the war. I cannot rest idle while the 
 country needs soldiers." 
 
 Pauline thought he looked the very model of 
 what a soldier ought to be. 
 
 " And where shall you join the army ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " I do not know yet ; my place has not yet been 
 assigned to me ; but that matters little. A soldier's 
 business is to obey orders and have no prefer- 
 ences." 
 
 " Lieutenant Ballanche is gone already, I believe ; 
 at least he bade us good-bye, and was expecting to 
 go to the interior the next day." 
 
 " Yes, the governor sent him to look after some 
 outlaws over on the Mississippi border, I believe ; 
 he's likely to have some amusement before he 
 accomplishes his errand, I should think." 
 
 "You gentlemen have strange ideas of amuse- 
 ment. What entertainment do you see in fighting 
 robbers ?" interposed Mrs. Vernon in a deprecatory 
 tone, that yet had an admiration point in it. " Is it 
 such great sport to kill and be killed ?" 
 
 " I don't call it sport," he said, turning his gaze 
 slowly from Pauline to her mother, " but the excite- 
 ment is a mighty tonic. When a man is hunting a 
 man, or is hunted by one, he feels, to the limit of 
 possibility, the true meaning of self-reliance." 
 
 " But it is terrible !" exclaimed Pauline. " It 
 makes men worse than beasts of prey !"
 
 144 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Loring laughed a slow, heavy laugh, his strong, 
 mysterious face lighting up strangely. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon and Pauline were sitting side by 
 side upon a dark-tapestried sofa. Pauline was toy- 
 ing with her mother's hand. 
 
 " Isn't the whole of life terrible ?" Loring 
 demanded. " What, after all, is there to relieve it 
 of its dark significance ?" 
 
 The ladies looked disturbed. What he had said 
 was depressing enough under the circumstances ; 
 but his voice, his manner and his inscrutable face 
 made an impression singularly startling. It was 
 one of those moments that come to all of us, when 
 hidden things of strange import are half revealed to 
 what, for want of a better name, we call our inner 
 consciousness. 
 
 Pauline was aware of a sudden sympathy for this 
 dark, weather-stained, scarred veteran who seemed 
 to take such a jaundiced view of life. Her girl's 
 heart went out to him as it might have done to a 
 beautiful wounded animal. She felt the weight of 
 his vast experience with evil pressing upon her with 
 the effect of infinite pathos. She recalled what he 
 had said to her on the evening of the party, and 
 now, as she looked at him sitting there upright, 
 muscular, sun-tanned, the picture of resolute, 
 defiant health and vigor, she recognized in some 
 way the romance that must lie behind him along 
 the way he had come. 
 
 " The business of a soldier must be sad and sad- 
 dening," she said, " and I do not wonder at your
 
 COLONEL LORING AND PAULINE. 145 
 
 view of life ; only you might promise yourself rest 
 and happiness when the war is ended." 
 
 Mrs. Vernon was called away just then to meet 
 some friends whom a servant announced. 
 
 As she arose to go, she made an apologetic 
 gesture. 
 
 " Excuse me, but pray do not go till I return," 
 she said. 
 
 Why she had spoken thus she could not have 
 explained, save by admitting that he was a fascin- 
 ating man to whom she felt that she owed her life 
 and her daughter's. 
 
 Pauline involuntarily made a movement to clutch 
 her mother's hand and detain her. 
 
 A faint glow of feeling suffused Loring's face ; 
 but no person, however skilled in physiognomy, 
 could have read its meaning. In some way, it 
 might have reminded one of that flash of hope now 
 and again seen in the face of a man on the eve of 
 his execution. 
 
 " It is so seldom that I can sit in a beautiful room 
 like this and converse with " He checked himself ; 
 he was speaking as if half in soliloquy. " I shall 
 never forget," he went on, with a slight effort, 
 " how beautiful these rooms were the other even- 
 ing." 
 
 " It is very kind of you to remember it. The 
 house was lovely." 
 
 " And you, too, were as lovely as an angel. I 
 shall never forget how you looked." 
 
 The color came quickly to Pauline's cheeks and 
 lips ; but flattery was tolerable in those days ; and
 
 146 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 besides, when a man is serious and sincere, it is not 
 in woman's nature to resent his admiration. 
 
 " My dress was one that my grandmother wore 
 when she was a girl, only I had it done over," she 
 replied, with a naive show of interest in the subject. 
 "Every one said that it was very quaint and 
 becoming. I like those old things. Don't you?" 
 
 " It was you that became the dress ; you made it 
 beautiful ; you charmed everybody. The dress was 
 nothing." 
 
 Pauline felt a sudden desire to run away from 
 him, and yet, perhaps, she would not have gone if 
 she had been under no obligation to stay. 
 
 " The occasion was exhilarating," she managed to 
 say, with the most indifferent air. " I am especially 
 proud that every one enjoyed it ; for, you know, it 
 was the first party I ever gave. And didn't you 
 think Mademoiselle de Sezannes beautiful? She 
 captivated all the gentlemen ; but, then, she always 
 does with her superb way and " 
 
 " She looks like a Spanish Jewess," said Loring, 
 interrupting her. 
 
 " But she is not like one, Colonel Loring," replied 
 Pauline. 
 
 " I beg pardon. I did not mean to imply criticism. 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes impressed me very pleas- 
 antly. It is not so bad to look like a Jewess." 
 
 He arose as if to take his leave. 
 
 " But you promised my mother to wait till she 
 returned," said Pauline, arising also. " You have 
 not forgotten ?" 
 
 " .No ; I will wait. But I never sit long. I have
 
 COLONEL LOSING AND PAULINE. 14T 
 
 this way of getting on my feet almost involuntarily. 
 I seem to be made for to be upright." 
 
 He smiled and made a gesture to signify he was 
 chaffing, then added : 
 
 " But keep your seat, Miss Vernon ; I will walk 
 to and fro, if you will permit it, while we continue 
 our conversation. Do you know this is more like 
 happiness than anything that has come to me for 
 years ? I must make the most of it." 
 
 He pushed toward her the chair in which he had 
 been sitting. 
 
 She sat down, and when she looked up with her 
 bright smile, her dark, vivacious eyes seemed to 
 dazzle him. He turned about and walked with a 
 light, singularly springy step across the room and 
 back. 
 
 " My father is restless in this way sometimes," 
 she said, " and walks the floor like a tiger in a cage. 
 When I ask him why he does it, he always says that 
 he is thinking of the sea. You know he was a sailor 
 a long time ago." 
 
 " I am more receptive when in motion ; can think 
 more clearly, can shake off a fit of discontent more 
 easily. I walk back and forth when I wish to 
 remember and when I wish to forget. Did you 
 ever wish to forget anything ?" 
 
 He stopped in front of her, with his head high. 
 His face irradiated a strange light, his attitude had 
 a fine touch of the dramatic almost the melo- 
 dramatic in it. What was it that he could not for- 
 get ? What was he trying to fasten forever in his 
 memory ?
 
 148 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " I forget nearly everything that I ought to keep 
 in mind," she said, scarcely knowing what her 
 words were. " I wish I had a good memory." 
 
 " It is a bad wish. If I could forget everything 
 the whole past, the whole world, everything but 
 the present moment as it passes I could be happy. 
 Some one has said that the past is a cemetery, a 
 place in which we bury dead experiences. Memory 
 is a ghoul ; it digs up nothing but corpses." 
 
 He was walking back and forth again with his 
 strong chin elevated, his muscular shoulders thrown 
 back, while his thin, firm lips seemed to writhe 
 around his words. The cords in his neck stood out 
 as if they bore a great strain. 
 
 " My life has been so happy and so uneventful," 
 said Pauline, speaking with the frankness of a child, 
 her voice betraying the fascination that his words 
 and actions were exerting over her, i4 and I have seen 
 so little of life that I cannot " 
 
 " Oh, no, you cannot " he interrupted " you 
 cannot understand. Men's lives are so different 
 from yours, so beset, so borne upon by evil, so 
 stirred by devilish impulses." 
 
 He had increased his pace until his strides had 
 the energy of some powerful excitement and his 
 bronze features were pinched and bloodless. The 
 stress of the moment added a strange, indescrib- 
 able beauty to his face. 
 
 For some moments there was silence between 
 them ; meantime they could hear Mrs. Vernon giving 
 her callers a most animated account of the street 
 adventure and of Colonel Loring's gallant service.
 
 COLONEL LOEING AND PAULINE. 149 
 
 " We owe our lives to him," she declared, with 
 emphasis. " And he risked his own so bravely !" 
 
 Without realizing her own sense of the fascination 
 that was holding her fast, Pauline sat gazing at the 
 man as he strode to and fro. Her face was sweetly 
 flushed and her eyes shone with a soft, dreamy ex- 
 pression that told how powerfully her sympathies 
 had been stirred. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon returned as soon as her visitors had 
 gone. 
 
 Colonel Loring confronted her hat in hand. 
 
 " I shall not see you again before you hear of fight- 
 ing," he said, indicating that he was about to go. 
 He stood looking back and forth from mother to 
 daughter as if he had something he wished to say 
 but could not. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon extended her hand. 
 
 "Our prayers will attend you," she said, with a 
 subdued smile, " and we shall hope to see you back 
 very soon, safe and well." 
 
 He went away abruptly, leaving behind him an 
 impression that never in the least faded on the mem- 
 ory of the two imaginative women 
 
 Pauline went almost immediately to her room. 
 She wished to be alone. In her heart a feeling of 
 indescribable unrest was blending with a vague 
 sense of tenderness, pity, longing and fear, as if 
 some evil were about to befall some one she loved. 
 Loring's face was before her inner vision. His 
 expression of dark brooding and hopelessness had 
 fastened itself upon her memory, like a strange, 
 haunting picture, and his voice, with its peculiar
 
 150 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 restrained coldness and its undertone of passionate 
 despair, seemed to echo mysteriously through every 
 cell of her consciousness. She leaned back in a 
 white-cushioned chair and clasped her hands above 
 her head. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 COLONEL LORING MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 
 
 Although the possibility of New Orleans being 
 attacked by a British force had been for a month or 
 two the chief topic of conversation in all the homes 
 and in every salle and caf& in the city, nobody was 
 prepared to receive the news when at last the fleet 
 was reported off the islands that rim the southern 
 confine of Mississippi Sound. A panic seized the 
 people ; and, as for the army, there was lone to 
 speak of. 
 
 General Jackson made haste to occupy the city 
 with such forces as he could readily pull together, 
 and began at once to prepare for a vigorous, if 
 apparently hopeless, defense. The first difficulty that 
 presented itself to the iron-hearted Tennesseean was 
 that of securing the confidence and co-operation of a 
 class of men who in a large degree controlled both 
 New Orleans and Louisiana. He found that a deep- 
 seated prejudice already existed against him in 
 official circles, and that a clash of authority was 
 likely to come immediately. Governor Clai borne
 
 COLONEL LOSING MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 151 
 
 had many enemies in the State, and as soon as he 
 became a stanch supporter of Jackson's policy, 
 which was a strictly military and not a little 
 despotic one, they began to attack both the general 
 and the governor from a hundred directions with 
 the most insidious abuse. 
 
 Although the masses were loyal to the United 
 States, the loyalty was a provincial one. The 
 Creoles especially regarded anything like national 
 interference with the local affairs of Louisiana with 
 but little favor, and at first they did not admire the 
 rough and imperious general, whose manners and 
 language were foreign to their taste, and whose 
 imperious disposition would brook no interference, 
 even in the way of suggestion, with his quickly 
 formed plans. 
 
 Jackson attached Lieutenant Ballanche to his 
 staff as soon as he arrived in New Orleans. This 
 was considered an insult by some influential persons, 
 who desired to have Colonel Loring occupy that 
 position, and who had made a special suggestion to 
 that effect, fortified by the statement that Loring 
 knew the whole country as a sailor-pilot knows his 
 chart, and was, besides, an officer of varied and suc- 
 cessful experience in the service. Mr. Vernon, too, 
 had added the weight of his name and recommenda- 
 tion, which had heretofore been almost all-powerful 
 in Colonel Loring's behalf. 
 
 As for the colonel himself, he returned to New 
 Orleans from no one knew exactly where, just in 
 time to be informed of General Jackson's peremp- 
 tory refusal while the words were scarcely cold.
 
 152 THE KINQ OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " I do not need more staff-officers or more officers 
 of any kind," was the bluff statement made by the 
 already over-worked commander. " I need fight- 
 ing men who have guns and will shoot with them 
 whenever a red-coat gets in sight. Let every man 
 forget office and think of his country for a while. 
 If Colonel Loring desires to fight for New Orleans, 
 let him report to me at once with a gun." 
 
 Ernest Faval, a politician of some note, and Mr. 
 Vernon met , soon after this, in a restaurant not far 
 from Jackson's headquarters, on Royal Street, 
 where they discussed the matter in a characteristic 
 way over a bottle of Burgundy. It must be 
 recorded that they cursed and swore like pirates, 
 meantime coupling General Jackson's name with 
 a good deal that was by no means flattering to it. 
 
 The restaurant was one of the best in the city, 
 and situated, as already stated, only a few doors 
 distant from the house in which the commanding 
 officer had established his headquarters. Indeed, 
 Faval and Mr. Vernon were fresh from the exas- 
 perating interview already mentioned. They were, 
 perhaps, pleasurably surprised when on the moment 
 Loring chanced to drop in and join them at the 
 table. 
 
 "You are ordered, sir," said Faval, in a mock 
 military manner, " to put on the uniform of a pri- 
 vate soldier and report with gun and accouter- 
 ments, to General Jackson." 
 
 Loring smiled coldly, tossed off a glass of wine 
 and, resting his elbows on the table, turned inquir-
 
 COLONEL LORING MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 153 
 
 ing glances from one to the other of his compan- 
 ions. 
 
 " Jackson flatly refuses to appoint you," said 
 Mr. Vernon, setting a strong tone of vexation in 
 his words. " He treated us as if we had been 
 two old women." 
 
 " And told us," added Faval, " that everybody 
 must forget office, though I took notice that he did 
 not offer to resign his own office." 
 
 " It was quite unexpected," Mr. Vernon went on. 
 " I thought he would appoint you without a word 
 on such recommendations as we were able to offer ; 
 but he refused in terms almost unbearably offensive, 
 as if the thought set him in a rage. He was digni- 
 fied enough, too ; but I saw anger in his eyes." 
 
 Loring did not change countenance, or, if he did, 
 it was but to broaden his sardonic smile. 
 
 " I am not surprised," he remarked, breaking a 
 biscuit with the most indifferent air; "it was a 
 fool's errand from the beginning. Claiborne knows 
 more than you imagine, and what Claiborne knows 
 Jackson knows." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" demanded Mr. Vernon, 
 with peremptory suddenness. His eyes shot out 
 almost fierce inquiry. 
 
 Faval gave Loring a quick, warning glance which 
 the latter understood at once. 
 
 Without an instant's hesitation and emitting not 
 a ray of expression to hint his swift change of men- 
 tal attitude, Colonel Loring said : 
 
 " What I mean is that Claiborne knows very well 
 that you and Faval distrust him, and, of course, he
 
 154 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 is making good time in poisoning Jackson against 
 you, as I should do, if I were he, under all the cir- 
 cumstances. I know something of General Jackson ; 
 he is a contemptible, jealous tyrant !" 
 
 Mr. Vernon laughed, with his eyes fixed steadily 
 on those of Loring. If there had been a flash of 
 suspicion it came and went like the flash of a firefly. 
 
 44 It's a high-handed beginning, to say the least," 
 growled Faval, " and for my part I don't relish it ; 
 though, for that matter, I have a poor way of help- 
 ing myself." 
 
 " General Jackson probably thinks he can get 
 along without Louisianaians in defending Louisi- 
 ana," said Mr. Vernon, with a mechanical show of 
 lightness. " Ta ! He will soon find out his mis- 
 take, I hope." 
 
 " He takes Lieutenant Ballanche instead of you," 
 Faval remarked turning to Loring. " The boy 
 seems to be cheek by jowl with him and Claiborne. 
 I suppose that old Sezannes and his money bags are 
 the power behind the throne." 
 
 " What interest has Sezannes in the affair ?" 
 inquired Mr. Vernon, lifting his big, shaggy head 
 with a motion at once swift and heavy. 
 
 " Ballanche is to be his son-in-law, I understand." 
 
 " Ta ! Love rules war, too, eh ?" 
 
 " Perhaps when love controls money." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, and then Mr. 
 Vernon, leaning back in his chair and stroking his 
 tumbled beard, added ; 
 
 " It strikes me, in spite of myself, that General
 
 COLONEL LORING MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 155 
 
 Jackson is just the man for the place he has taken 
 with such aplomb" 
 
 Fival winced, inwardly if not outwardly. There 
 was a touch of resentment in his tone when he 
 said : 
 
 " Oh, he will make us all bestir ourselves. He 
 will pull the strings and, like puppets, we'll have 
 to hop and kick as if we liked it. War brings 
 strange masters." 
 
 " He has already been to every probable point of 
 defense all around the city," continued Mr. Vernon, 
 thoughtfully, as if in soliloquy ; " and the steps he 
 is taking look to me more like genuine military 
 work than anything that has ever been done in this 
 district." 
 
 Faval, whose greatest desire had been to have 
 General Wilkinson returned to the command at New 
 Orleans, cleared his throat and took a glass of brandy 
 as if to wash something down. 
 
 " He has the prestige of recent victories to make 
 way for him," he remarked, evasively, " and I don't 
 doubt his ability. Perhaps it is a mistake, however, 
 for even General Jackson to openly insult a man 
 like you." 
 
 Mr. Vernon arched his brows and made a gesture 
 which implied absolute disclaimer of everything 
 personal to himself. 
 
 " I shall report with a gun when the enemy 
 appears," he said. " It is the business of us all to 
 fight for our country." 
 
 Loring eyed him steadily for a moment and then 
 in a peculiar, low voice exclaimed :
 
 156 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 ' ' I am thirty-seven years old, and I have not yet 
 permitted any man to play master over me. I shall 
 hardly begin now." 
 
 Then he twirled a wine-glass carelessly and 
 added : 
 
 " General Jackson, like any other plebeian who 
 has risen a trifle above his present associates, fancies 
 himself a Caesar. It would be good for him to have 
 his nose pulled." 
 
 " I should not care to do that piece of pulling," 
 said Faval, dryly ; " the nose of Andrew Jackson 
 has the pluck of the devil behind it." 
 
 Mr. Vernon laughed ; that leonine, growling 
 chuckle of his came forth with a suddenness and 
 force that fairly jarred the table. He seemed to be 
 reflecting upon something that amused him greatly. 
 Presently he said : 
 
 " He dismissed us, Faval, as if he'd been a dis- 
 trict school-teacher and we his rather stupid 
 pupils !" 
 
 " ' If Colonel Loring desires to fight for New Or- 
 leans,' " said Faval, mocking General Jackson's 
 manner, " ' let him report to me at once with a 
 gun.' " 
 
 Loring poured a glass of wine and held it up 
 before him. There was a sardonic, devil-may-care 
 gleam in his half -closed eyes. 
 
 "When I report to General Jackson he'll be a 
 very much surprised man," he drawled, with that 
 emphatic slowness which sometimes means a great 
 deal. " My report will make his head swim." 
 
 "Oh, come, now," said Faval, "don't go too far
 
 COLONEL LORING MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 157 
 
 with your resentment. Doubtless we shall all have 
 to fight under the tyrant. We can't turn our 
 backs." 
 
 At this moment a gaunt, rough-looking, stern- 
 faced man strode into the restaurant, his boots 
 sounding heavily on the floor. 
 
 " There's General Jackson now !" said Mr. Ver- 
 non, and the others turned to see. 
 
 The deep-set eyes of the commander fixed them- 
 selves quickly on Faval, and there flashed out of 
 them a perceptible glow of displeasure, as if some 
 sudden vexation had come at sight of him. 
 
 The three arose from the table. Mr. Vernon 
 made a step forward and saluted. 
 
 With a curt but comprehensive bow, General 
 Jackson acknowledged the attention of the group. 
 His eyes, however, did not turn from Faval, though 
 the displeasure vanished from them evidently by 
 force of his will. 
 
 Colonel Loring stood with folded arms while he 
 gazed steadily into General Jackson's eyes. 
 
 Mr. Vernon extended his hand, and the com- 
 mander shook it perfunctorily. 
 
 " May I introduce Colonel Loring of whom we 
 were speaking this morning ?" Mr. Vernon went on, 
 in a cordial tone. 
 
 " Humph !" grunted Jackson. " How do you do, 
 sir ?" 
 
 The manner and the words were more careless 
 and indifferent than in any sense malicious or pur- 
 posely contemptuous ; but, to say the least, the ring 
 of downright impoliteness was unmistakable. It
 
 158 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 was plain enough that Colonel Loring's presence 
 had not affected the commander a whit more pleas- 
 antly than had the suggestions in his behalf by 
 Faval and Mr. Vernon. 
 
 Faval made a step half around the corner of the 
 table as he saw some movement on the part of 
 Loring. 
 
 " I am quite sure, General Jackson," Mr. Vernon 
 was going on to say, " that you and Colonel Loring 
 will find if pleasant to " 
 
 The thought in his mind vanished on the instant, 
 and he stopped midway of the sentence ; but it was 
 too late to interpose himself, although he tried with 
 great promptness and decision. 
 
 What followed was, perhaps, the most astounding 
 incident in all the turbulent and checkered expe- 
 riences of Andrew Jackson. 
 
 Loring made a quick step forward, reached forth 
 his right hand and, grasping the commander's nose 
 between his thumb and forefinger, tweaked it and 
 wrung it savagely. 
 
 " Take that !" he sneered, and then slapped the 
 astonished man's cheek. " I will report to you with 
 a gun when I see fit, you conceited ruffian !" 
 
 While he was speaking, Loring had passed briskly 
 along, and in less than five seconds he was out of 
 the room. Indeed, General Jackson, quick and 
 decided as he always was in an emergency, had not 
 recovered from his consternation before his assailant 
 was quite gone. Faval, who had a way, as most 
 unscrupulous politicians have, of making fair 
 weather for himself just at the most critical moment,
 
 COLONEL LOKING MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 159 
 
 came to the commander's defense, or rather to his 
 aid, with a pistol which he snatched forth and fired 
 toward Loring a little too late to hit him ; the bul- 
 let creased the door-post. 
 
 Jackson wheeled and pursued the retreating man. 
 But what was the use ? He was gone. The irate 
 commander immediately gave orders for Loring's 
 arrest ; but he was not to be found so easily. 
 
 Jackson, if he suspected that Mr. Vernon and 
 Faval secretly enjoyed his discomfiture, did not 
 betray it. The matter was hushed up in short 
 order, and not till many days afterward did the 
 rumor go out in New Orleans that " Old Hickory " 
 had had his nose pulled and his cheek slapped 
 without being able to fitly resent it. Doubtless the 
 pressure, sudden and apparently irresistible, of the 
 military situation forced Jackson to cast behind him, 
 for the time at least, all personal considerations and 
 turn his whole attention to preparing the defense of 
 New Orleans. At all events, while Mr. Vernon and 
 Ernest Faval were yet with him, endeavoring to 
 quiet him, Lieutenant Ballanche came in great haste 
 to bear him startling news from down the river. 
 The British were coasting along the marshes and 
 feeling their way toward the city, or trying to get 
 possession of Pontchartrain. As yet, nothing cer- 
 tain could be known of their numbers or equip- 
 ments, saving that they appeared to be strong, well 
 supplied and confident. There were great difficul- 
 ties in the way of watching their movements, and so 
 far it was doubtful what were their real intentions 
 as to the point of attack.
 
 160 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 General Jackson received the young lieutenant 
 respectfully, even cordially, and after a few words 
 with him aside, took his arm, and bowing to Faval 
 and Mr. Vernon, walked away with him towards 
 headquarters. 
 
 Faval, in his Creole volatility, could restrain his 
 indignation no longer. He clenched his hands and 
 swore ; but Mr. Vernon was quite calm and appar- 
 ently not in the least in sympathy with his compan- 
 ion's bitter criticism of the commander's personal 
 treatment of them. 
 
 On the evening of this same day, Colonel Loring 
 further distinguished himself by appearing suddenly 
 in the de Sezannes box at the leading theatre of the 
 city and throttling Lieutenant Ballanche, who 
 at the time was engaged in conversation with 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes and her mother. The 
 onslaught was so precipitate and so quickly done 
 with that the perpetrator was gone before any 
 general understanding of the startling affair was had 
 by the audience. Ballanche was seized by the 
 throat in a grip of iron, lifted bodily and dashed 
 down stunned and almost lifeless at the feet of 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes. 
 
 The play going forward on the stage was not half 
 so strikingly dramatic as this spectacular perform- 
 ance in real life, and, although the people of New 
 Orleans were well used to scenes of violence, those 
 who witnessed it were horrified by the peculiar 
 atrocity it exhibited. Loring's two muscular hands 
 closed about the young man's neck with frightful
 
 COLONEL LORING MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 161 
 
 force, and his cold, long", narrow eyes flickered bale- 
 fully under his straight, dark brows. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes and her mother 
 screamed ; the old man's face grew livid with fright 
 as he flung- up his fat hands and sank back, help- 
 less, in his seat. 
 
 At this distance it is difficult to understand a state 
 of society like that in New Orleans at the time of 
 which we write ; but the temper of the people may 
 be suggested by the fact that, while the city lay 
 apparently open to an alien and presumably reck- 
 less enemy whose fleet and troops were preparing 
 for capture and booty, the leaders of social life and 
 the chief military officers, Jackson excepted, were 
 at the theatre enjoying a light play. Moreover, the 
 strange incident just recorded did not much incon- 
 venience either players or audience after the first 
 thrill of excitement passed by. It was a momentary 
 wonder, nothing more. 
 
 Mr. Vernon and his wife and daughter were in a 
 box almost opposite the one occupied by the de 
 Sezannes, and it chanced that Fairfax was with 
 them at the moment when Loring appeared. 
 
 Pauline did not see the daring and brutal act ; 
 but when she turned in the direction indicated by 
 her father's sudden, excited stare, Loring was stand- 
 ing there facing the stage. He was erect and rigid 
 with a passion not otherwise observable, while Bal- 
 lanche lay crumpled and still at Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes' feet. Something in the man's calm, 
 mysterious face sent through her a thrill of inde- 
 scribable sympathy. As he turned almost instantly
 
 162 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 to retreat from the auditorium, his eyes met hers 
 with a quick movement of recognition, and he 
 smiled with a peculiar, subdued gleam in his dark 
 face. 
 
 She clutched her mother's arm, and her cheeks 
 and lips turned pale as death. She felt rather than 
 saw the flash of excitement which passed over the 
 faces of the audience all turned upon the tall form 
 now passing rapidly along the aisle that led to the 
 main entrance. 
 
 Nobody attempted to stop Loring ; even the 
 policeman at the door either did not understand 
 what had happened or feared him ; for they stood 
 aside when he approached and let him pass un- 
 touched. 
 
 Mr. Vernon sat motionless during the scene. 
 
 " What is it ? What has happened ?" demanded 
 his wife , as soon as she could command her voice. 
 " Has there been a fight ? Is Lieutenant Ballanche 
 hurt ? Who did it ? Was it Colonel Loring ?" 
 
 With the assistance of the excited M. de Sezan- 
 nes, Lieutenant Ballanche was slowly rising. Evi- 
 dently he was confused and unable to realize what 
 had happened. Instinctively, however, he righted 
 his disturbed collar and pulled himself together 
 with a show of dignity and coolness which won the 
 admiration of the onlookers. 
 
 On this very evening a courier brought the news 
 to General Jackson that the British forces were 
 approaching the river from Lake Borgne by way 
 of Bayou Bienvenu. Lieutenant Ballanche had 
 not yet fully recovered from his bewilderment, 
 when an officer came to hand him an order from
 
 COLOSTEL LORINU MAKES HIMSELF FELT. 163 
 
 the commander to report immediately at head- 
 quarters. 
 
 The rumor that the city was on the point of 
 being occupied by the enemy went, somehow, afloat 
 through the theatre. This completed the distrac- 
 tion of the audience. People began to go, at first 
 by individuals or family groups, then, as the excite- 
 ment increased, there was a wild rush and a tumult 
 of hysterical voices. They poured into the street 
 with the cry : 
 
 " The English ! The English ! The city is to be 
 plundered and burnt !" 
 
 Mr. Vernon and Fairfax, along with a respectable 
 minority of the audience, kept cool and quietly 
 remained in their seats ; but the look that came 
 into Mr. Vernon's face when he heard the shout and 
 for a moment felt that the British army was enter- 
 ing the city, told how terrible the announcement 
 was to him. 
 
 " Come," he said to Fairfax, " we must get the 
 ladies to a place of safety." 
 
 " Be calm, dear," he added, laying hold on his 
 wife's arm. 
 
 Pauline was already clinging tightly to him, but 
 her thoughts were not on the coming of the Eng- 
 lish soldiery. Somehow she was impressed with the 
 feeling that Colonel Loring had, as if by a touch of 
 magic, caused all this excitement and tumult.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MR. VERNON AND COLONEL LORING. 
 
 It is best for the reader to keep all the time well 
 in mind, as he follows the thread of this story, the 
 historical peculiarities that blend with the romance 
 affecting the lives of the people in whom we are 
 interested. The growth of Louisiana from a colony 
 of reckless military adventurers up to the stature of 
 a great State has been a singular instance of evolu- 
 tion. Iberville and Bienville planted the seed of a 
 strange race on the gulf coast, and the civilization 
 (as we may call it, for want of a better name) which 
 developed in the course of time in the Latin colony 
 was mongrel in every sense. French, Spanish, In- 
 dian, negro, all blended. The lonely knights of for- 
 tune, in the earlier days of the occupation, took 
 them wives from among the comely squaws of the 
 wild tribes girls of the Chouacas, the Chickasavvs, 
 the Creeks and the Cherokees or mated themselves 
 with slave-women from Cuba or St. Domingo. 
 Cargoes of young women from the prisons and pub- 
 lic pens of Paris real Manon Lescauts, but unat- 
 tended by their lovers were sent over to be the 
 [164]
 
 MR. VERNON AND COLONEL LORING. 165 
 
 wives of men who had run the gamut of hardship 
 and of hardening experience. Crozat came with his 
 contract to demoralize and Law with his scheme to 
 ruin the colony. Gold fever, the fever of conquest, 
 the thirst for discovery, the longing- for lawless 
 power and romantic glory possessed the grim, fear- 
 less, conscienceless adventurers. Now the French 
 held the government ; now the Spaniards took it ; 
 again the French ; anon the Spaniards. There were 
 slave insurrections, massacres of blacks and Indians, 
 massacres of whites, constant war, pillage, robbery 
 on sea and on land. But the French and the Span- 
 iards were not alone. Anglo-Americans came slip- 
 ping into the colony, and most of these were rest- 
 less, reckless, hungry fellows on the lookout for a 
 chance of fortune. Wilkinson came and Burr came 
 and Claiborne and a troop of their kind, all of them 
 burning for power and the glory thereof, money 
 and the glitter of it. Here, too, came many a man, 
 under an assumed name, to throw off an old life of 
 dishonor and take on a new life of crime. The 
 Lafittes, the Murrels, the Rameaus and their like 
 drifted in, drawn by the magnetism of organized 
 lawlessness. Indeed, as the years went by, the 
 influence of Louisiana over desperate men reached 
 to the farthest parts of the civilized earth and drew 
 to the colony the choicest criminals and desperadoes 
 the flower of the race of outlaws left over from 
 the scattered descendants of buccaneers, slave- 
 snatchers and pirates. 
 
 Men who had been political schemers, revolution- 
 ists, plotters of treason, assassination, usurpation,
 
 166 THE KING OP HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 were self-exiled to Louisiana, to escape the rope, 
 the ax, the guillotine. Deposed nobles and princes 
 came here, and, in sheer desperation, took up the 
 life of the gambler, of the thief, the smuggler or the 
 pirate. 
 
 But there was the other side of the medal ; for 
 opposed to the dark and turbulent majority stood 
 the "saving remnant," a strong minority of refined 
 Christian people, whom the exigencies of life had 
 stranded on this sweet, slumberous, flowery shore, 
 between the warm gulf stream and the stately 
 Mississippi. Some of this remnant were people 
 who had fled from one or another European country 
 for what would have been glorious patriotism if 
 successful, although when colored with failure it 
 looked like "hideous crime. Wrecks of true great- 
 ness lay strauded along Royal Street and Bourbon 
 and Carondolette, side by side with vulgar flotsam 
 and jetsam of the great Sea of Chance. True, it 
 was often hard to discern the rotten from the 
 sound ; for the conscienceless, red-handed culprit in 
 exile was inclined to draw about him much the 
 same cloak of reserve and mysterious dignity worn 
 by the expatriated prince or general whose only 
 offense was the exalted love of country. 
 
 It will be readily seen how circumstances tended 
 to rivet the armor of recklessness and lawlessness 
 on even well-disposed people who chanced to come 
 within the circle of this remote and isolated com- 
 munity. Where there is not the wholesome quaran- 
 tine of moral, social and political censorship, desire 
 swiftly falls to the level of the average and crime
 
 MR. VERNON AND COLONEL LORING. 167 
 
 becomes epidemic. It is only when backed by law 
 rigidly enforced that the ethics of higher civiliza- 
 tion can hold a hand against conscienceless greed, 
 passion and lust of power, even under the most 
 favorable surroundings. 
 
 When Gen. Andrew Jackson came to New Orleans, 
 he came as a typical Anglo-American, as contradis- 
 tinguished from the Latin Creole. He was a man of 
 iron, rough, resolute, imperious, even impetuous, with 
 the training of an Indian fighter and border chief- 
 tain, who had never known defeat. But here in the 
 far-famed city of romance, here in the warm, languor- 
 ous South, he found to his surprise that these pleas- 
 ure-loving Creoles, these descendants of princes and 
 of buccaneers, these vivacious, picturesquely hand- 
 some men with the soft voices and the courtly man- 
 ners, did not particularly admire and certainly did 
 not fear him. They rather looked upon him as an 
 interloper who assumed importance with the air of 
 a cornichon. The up-country men were not in good 
 repute there, anyway. Burr and Wilkinson and 
 Claiborne and a whole clan of lesser fellows had 
 given these Creoles a great deal of trouble while 
 preparing the way to lift them into the great Ameri- 
 can Union, and now Jackson was looked upon as the 
 arch interloper. But not a few of the inhabitants of 
 New Orleans who called themselves French were 
 in reality English, Irish, German, Scotch or Polish 
 refugees ; and at this particular juncture, when the 
 British army was about to assault the gates of the 
 city, there were those among them who were glad 
 to have the adamant of Jackson's will and the pres-
 
 168 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 tige of his courage and generalship thrust between 
 them and the coming foe. One of these was Mr. 
 Vernon. To him the thought of an English com- 
 mander getting control of New Orleans was the 
 vision of absolute ruin. Not only would it be the 
 end of all his wealth and influence, but there would 
 swiftly follow a terrible visitation of so-called jus- 
 tice upon his head. But for this he might have 
 been indifferent, as were many of the population, or 
 he might have preferred British success to the 
 domination of men like Jackson and Claiborne. 
 
 He left the theatre on the night of the alarm with 
 a great burden of trouble oppressing him. Fairfax 
 had observed before this that Colonel Loring 
 seemed to exert a singular influence over Mr. 
 Vernon, or rather, it looked as if Mr. Vernon had 
 some deep interest in the welfare of that dark, 
 saturnine man who was, as he still believed, Pierre 
 Rameau, the robber. Both Mrs. Vernon and Paul- 
 ine had noticed this remarkable intimacy and had 
 more than once wondered together regarding it. 
 On a certain occasion, Pauline had accidentally 
 overheard her father, when conferring alone with 
 Loring, address him with impatience and speak as 
 though chiding him for some fault. 
 
 " By these rash acts," Mr. Vernon was saying to 
 him, on the morning following the scenes recorded 
 in our last chapter, " you have made it probably 
 impossible for you to stay in this country." 
 
 They were sitting facing each other in the 
 library ; Loring had come into the house by a side 
 entrance from a private alley.
 
 MR. VEKNON AND COLONEL LORING. 169 
 
 " Oh, well," was the careless answer, " if I can't 
 stay I can go. There is Mexico ; I can return to 
 my mines." 
 
 Mr. Vernon gazed steadily at him with eyes that 
 burned half wistfully, half in anger. 
 
 " But," he presently said, " it is time for you to 
 quit this roving life ; get yourself under control, 
 and make the most of your talents. You are still 
 young, just coming into the prime of life." 
 
 " I know I've been thinking of it." 
 
 " But what does thinking amount to if you keep 
 on ? No man ever did acts more absolutely unjusti- 
 fiable or most desperately foolish than " 
 
 " Oh, certainly, there's no use of telling me that ; 
 but I couldn't help it. The only wonder is that 
 I didn't kill them both ; I usually do." 
 
 Loring spoke with an indescribable expression ; it 
 was if he felt no special interest in what he was 
 saying as if it were hollow mockery for him to 
 speak at all. His eyes, his lips, the lines of his face 
 gave forth a hard, hopeless, unfeeling light which 
 seemed to come out of a physical rather than a 
 mental dilemma. 
 
 " I saw no excuse whatever for your treatment of 
 Ballanche," said Mr. Vernon. " It looked like a 
 piece of wanton viciousness." 
 
 The old man's face had grown as gray as his 
 beard, and the wrinkles deepened strangely. 
 
 Loring sat upright, not rigidly, but with a certain 
 animal elasticity of limb and body which suggested 
 a surplus of vital force. He made no response in
 
 170 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 words, and appeared to throw off with some super- 
 ficial effort the whole burden of the subject. 
 
 " Of course, it will be impossible for you to join 
 Jackson now," Mr. Vernon added, after a long 
 silence. 
 
 " I shall probably go to the other side," said Lor- 
 ing, with a smile. 
 
 " The other side !" 
 
 " Why not ? It's my best way to make it even." 
 
 " But, in honor, you cannot do that." 
 
 " Humph !" 
 
 " Moreover you know that for the English to take 
 New Orleans would be ruin to me." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I know," Loring said. 
 
 " And you " 
 
 "You might not fare so badly. The English 
 commander has offered fine terms to Lafitte, and " 
 
 " Ta ! I know. But even Lafitte will not accept. 
 He has reported to Claiborne." 
 
 " Reported to Claiborne !" 
 
 " Yes," Vernon affirmed. 
 
 Loring turned his eyes toward the ceiling with a 
 slow, thoughtful motion, as if revolving a new per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " Who told you this ?" he presently demanded. 
 
 " Vasseur." 
 
 " Vasseur !" 
 
 " Yes, he is here. He acted as go-between in the 
 matter. He brought Lafitte's message to the 
 governor." 
 
 " And how came Vasseur here ?" 
 
 " Ta ! I hadn't told you about his being robbed ?"
 
 MR. VEENON AND COLONEL LORING. 171 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Pierre Rameau and his gang robbed him of all 
 his money and took his jewels." 
 
 Loring laughed reflectively. 
 
 " Poor little nigger !" he said. " That went hard 
 with him, I know." 
 
 " Yes. But he'll have his revenge. He is laying 
 his plans well. Rameau is in the city, he says, and 
 the whole fraternity of freemen of color is sworn to 
 kill him. They are drawing their lines close around 
 him." 
 
 Loring threw up his head, and his eyes became as 
 two long, gleaming slits, while the angles of his 
 jaws protruded like a cat's. 
 
 " But what are you going to do ? It is time to 
 act," Mr. Vernon inquired. 
 
 " Not much of anything, probably report to 
 Jackson with a gun, muzzle foremost, maybe." 
 
 He arose as if to go, but stood awhile twirling 
 his hat and looking straight into the old man's eyes. 
 A touch of something like tenderness such a 
 gleam as you see in a dog's eyes when he gazes at 
 his master came into his impenetrable face, when, 
 at last, he put forth his hand. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said. 
 
 Mr. Vernon clutched the hand and wrung it, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 As Loring went forth from the house, he met 
 Vasseur coming in. 
 
 The men glared at each other. Vasseur showed 
 both terror and surprise, and was evidently glad 
 that Loring was in the humor to pass him by.
 
 172 THE KDfG OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 The latter did not swerve a hair's breadth from 
 his course, and the little mulatto had to shy aside 
 quickly to avoid being trampled under foot. 
 
 "Is Pierre Rameau your friend?" cried Vassenr, 
 in French, as soon as he came into Mr. Vernon's 
 presence, his voice husky and rasping. 
 
 " Pierre Rameau ! What do you mean, you little 
 scamp ?" 
 
 " Did you not see him ? He came out of here this 
 moment ! I met him at the gate !" 
 
 " No ?" 
 
 " But yes, yes, this minute Pierre Rameau !" 
 
 Vasseur was trembling violently. 
 
 On the moment, there was a sudden whirl of 
 thoughts in Mr. Vernon's brain. Could it be ? 
 He grabbed his beard with one hand and, with the 
 other pressed hard upon his forehead, stood motion- 
 less, every feature straining and every limb rigid. 
 He was reflecting with the power and intensity of a 
 sudden conviction. 
 
 After a little while, however, he mastered him- 
 self and demanded Vasseur's business. 
 
 u I have not any business," faltered the little man. 
 " I saw Pierre Rameau come in here and " 
 
 " You are a liar !" 
 
 Mr. Vernon held him by the throat and made him 
 stand on tiptoe. 
 
 " You call my my friend Pierre Rameau again, 
 and I'll kill you, you black dog !" 
 
 It was the first time in many years that he had 
 given way to a rush of anger.
 
 MR. VERNON AND COLONEL LORINO. 173 
 
 Vasseur, unable to stand when released, sank 
 into a chair. 
 
 " Forgive me, Vasseur," said Mr. Vernon in the 
 next breath. " I did not mean to hurt you. I was 
 angry. That man was not Pierre Rameau. He 
 was Colonel Loring." 
 
 " Then you did not see the man I speak of," 
 insisted Vasseur, doggedly. " I met Pierre Rameau 
 coming out as I came in. I had tracked him 
 followed him here. I saw him come in, and I 
 waited long for him to come out. I " 
 
 Mr. Vernon interrupted him with an impatient 
 wave of the hand. 
 
 " There is some mistake !" 
 
 Vasseur's cunning would not let him be deceived, 
 but he felt some dangerous mystery hovering close 
 to him and did not care to take further risk in 
 penetrating it. A mind like his is quick, nimble, 
 shifty. It must be in order to give it a fair chance. 
 Moreover, it cuts straight through some difficulties 
 that would be baffling to a higher intellect. Just 
 now he was living for but one object, and whatever 
 did not bear upon his purpose was of no interest to 
 him ; but, in spite of this, there was something in Mr. 
 Vernon's attitude that aroused strange and obscure 
 doubts, suspicions, dreads in his mind, while 
 at the same time he saw that there was a bond of 
 sympathy and interest uniting Mr. Vernon and 
 Pierre Rameau. He suspected, although the sus- 
 picion scarcely took full shape just then, that the 
 two men had been connected, as he and Rameau 
 had, in some wild transactions, and were still neces-
 
 174 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 sary to each other, or would be at the crisis now so 
 near. Indeed, Vasseur knew more of Mr. Vernon's 
 past than the latter would have believed more 
 than it would have been safe for the little fellow to 
 acknowledge. 
 
 When Vasseur had taken his leave, Mr. Vernon 
 walked the floor, to and fro, his hands locked 
 behind him, his heavy head and shoulders droop- 
 ing and his eyes bent upon the carpet. He looked 
 ten years older than he had looked three days 
 before. His lips now and again moved silently, 
 and the muscles of his neck and face twitched ner- 
 vously. 
 
 Presently he took his hat and his great-coat, for 
 a drizzling rain was falling, and went out. He felt 
 that he must see Loring once more before he left 
 the city. To this end he bent his steps toward the 
 club-room of the Chats-Huants which was over the 
 back part of a low restaurant near the river. 
 
 Chats-Huants [screech-owls] was the name of a 
 mysterious organization which fell to pieces when, 
 some time after the War of 1812, the robbers of 
 Honey Island were routed and their power des- 
 troyed. 
 
 What seems most strange to one who gains access 
 to the records is the fact that the Chats-Huants, 
 although their proceedings were vailed, did not pre- 
 tend to evade the authorities of New Orleans. It 
 was well known that they were in league with 
 smugglers, so-called " privateers " and negro- 
 stealers ; but it was understood as well that they 
 were " operated " outside of Louisiana, or, in other
 
 MR. VERNON AND COLONEL LORING. 175 
 
 words, that they were "importers" of unlawful 
 wares, and that all of their gains went to swell the 
 wealth of the State and the city. 
 
 Mr. Vernon felt sure that, if Loring had been 
 deceiving him, and had been all this time operating 
 with the Honey Island outlaws instead of being in 
 Mexico if Colonel Loring and Pierre Rameau were 
 indeed identical as both Fairfax and Vasseur had 
 declared then the room of the Chats-Huants would 
 be the place in which to look for him. 
 
 On the way, as the rain softly fell over his 
 slouched hat and high-collared topcoat, Mr. Vernon 
 kept repeating the name, " Pierre Rameau," " Pierre 
 Rameau," not aloud, not even by lip-movement, but 
 inwardly ; and it rang and echoed in his conscious- 
 ness, as a lonely voice sometimes wanders back and 
 forth and around in a wild mountain hollow. He 
 felt that he was going to solve within the next half- 
 hour a question involving one of those climaxes of 
 experience from which no period of life is exempt 
 experiences that shock the very centers of strength, 
 and affect the deepest sources of feeling. The Mas- 
 ter of Destinies rarely uses stage effects in thrusting 
 us into these extremes ; but, yet, it is not often that 
 we are in the least prepared for any of them. A 
 stroke of the drum, a glare of red-light, or the sud- 
 den blare of horns at just the moment of disclosure, 
 might relieve rather than aggravate the effect. 
 
 The streets were slimy, the gutters ran full of 
 muddy water, and a wind from the east had an 
 edge of ice, albeit the roses were abloom along the 
 walls. Mr. Vernon met few people ; he was not
 
 176 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 aware of meeting any, until a hand was laid on his 
 arm, and a well-remembered voice said : 
 
 ' May I have a word with you ? Do you not 
 know me ?" 
 
 He stopped short and faced the speaker. It was 
 almost in front of the entrance to the grimy build- 
 ing in which the Chats- Huants had their meeting- 
 place. Not far away on one hand rolled the great 
 yellow river with some vessels at anchor ; on the 
 other hand the uneven houses zigzagged along, 
 dripping and unsightly. Two or three reckless- 
 looking fellows passed by and entered the restaur- 
 ant. The Chats-Huants were meeting.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SCENE ON A WOODLAND STAGE. 
 
 The reader will recollect the heavy rain and the 
 hurricane that came on immediately after the shoot- 
 ing of Burns by Pierre Rameau. But for that cool 
 deluge of water, the old man would have bled to 
 death, notwithstanding the comparative slightness 
 of the wound, which, owing to the bullet's striking 
 a large old silver watch and glancing thence along a 
 rib, was but a jagged rip in the flesh across the left 
 slope of the chest. As it was, the rain stanched the 
 bleeding, and Burns regained consciousness some 
 time during the following night. 
 
 His Scotch vitality was not yet exhausted. He 
 raised himself to a sitting posture ; but the effort 
 reminded him of his hurt and the blood broke forth 
 afresh, while a dull pain griped his breast. A roar- 
 ing sound came into his head as he sank back again 
 and relapsed into insensibility. It was but a swoon, 
 however, followed presently by a gradual recovery, 
 during which his mind recalled, in a panoramic 
 way, the whole of his long and fruitless struggle in 
 search of Margaret. All the terrible route from 
 Scotland, zigzagging over almost half the earth, lay
 
 178 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 under his eyes as if mapped out in the glare of a 
 calcium light. He realized how very old he was, 
 and the nature of his wound he well knew, having 
 thrust his fingers into the gaping rent. Life shriv- 
 eled under his gaze to the dimensions of a scorched 
 leaf, and he saw his thousands of unanswered 
 prayers lying like dead insects thereon. Some of 
 the tense strings of his faith were snapping under 
 this strain. Numbly, blindly, he groped about in 
 the darkness, the soaked earth under him, the drip- 
 ping, wind-stirred boughs overhead. His long, 
 gray hair fell across his drawn and sunken face, and 
 his tumbled beard was separated into clammy 
 wisps. He thought he was walking, but he was 
 only wallowing on the ground, reaching out his 
 hands and feet. 
 
 There is a great reserve in the Scotch physique 
 as there is in the Scotch character. Mr. Burns was 
 an extreme example, else how could he have lain 
 there on the wet soil of the woods for three days 
 and nights without so much as a sip of water and 
 with nothing to stay the bleeding of his wound ? 
 He was but half conscious most of the time, and yet 
 he heard a panther screaming all through one night, 
 and once a wolf barked and howled close by. 
 There was nothing in these sounds to frighten him ; 
 they came to him as in a dream, appealing to no 
 particular sense, touching no particular chord of 
 consciousness, simply echoing through him. Slowly 
 he sank away, weaker and weaker, down, down into 
 darkness. Every thought faded out but one the
 
 A SCENE ON A WOODLAND STAGE. 
 
 thought of failure the thought that he was dying 
 without hope. 
 
 On the third day, in the afternoon, some great 
 black birds, evil-looking, with bare, congested heads 
 and hungry eyes, came sailing low round and round 
 above him. He saw them, and thought : " They 
 will eat me as soon as I am dead !" But there was 
 no horror connected with the vision, which went 
 farther and displayed his scattered and clean-picked 
 bones. What could it matter to him, old, defeated, 
 abandoned, dying, if vultures began their work at 
 once ? Could their beaks add one pang to his 
 torture ? 
 
 With singular minuteness, for his leisure was 
 ample, he reviewed his religious life, seeking for 
 some justification of the act of Divine Providence 
 in thus casting him aside like a bit of old rubbish 
 after all this wearying and fruitless effort after all 
 his trust and prayer. 
 
 And little Margaret what of her? Beautiful, 
 young, pure, with every bud of tender promise just 
 showing the pink why should she have been made 
 the plaything of an enormous wrong, the helpless 
 victim of an atrocious fate ? He saw her as she was 
 when she left him, fair, bright, loving, the idol of 
 his widowed heart, and he followed her, step by 
 step, through the cruel descent, until she lay in her 
 coffin, murdered by that man. 
 
 By some mysterious cerebral action, he was able 
 to note the correlation of his own experience with 
 the girl's, and to fix, as by a flash, the meeting of his
 
 180 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 prayers with the successive downward rushes of her 
 miserable career. 
 
 At every point where he sought her with most 
 confidence and besought heaven with greatest faith, 
 there she had met calamity or taken some desperate 
 step in infamy. And whose was the fault ? Surely 
 she had not been born with the taint of evil in her 
 blood. True, her father had been a reckless man 
 in a way convivial, given to gambling and to other 
 vices ; but he had kept his honor, as men sometimes 
 reckon it, in a fair condition. Her mother was a 
 sweet, patient little doll. Both parents died young. 
 
 And Kirk MacCollough ! The name rang through 
 the old man's fevered brain, and the tall, dark out- 
 law stalked across his vision like an actor across the 
 stage of melodrama. What health, what strength, 
 what immunity from the physical effects of moral 
 recklessness ! And what defiance of heaven and 
 hell ! In the pursuit of thig man, Burns had wasted 
 himself, his fortune, his career, his prayers, his life, 
 while not a drop of desire had been lost by the out- 
 law. It was bitter food of reflection for the aged 
 preacher as he lay on the ground, his withered 
 limbs outstretched and the weakness of death in his 
 nerves. Slowly his mind worked its way down to 
 that last scene and began to take up its details one 
 by one, analyzing them with merciless exactness. 
 Meantime, by that curious power of the brain which 
 enables it when abnormally stimulated to follow two 
 lines of thought at once, he was reviewing Kirk Mac- 
 Collough's origin and accounting for his career by 
 referring all his darker characteristics to inheritance
 
 A SCENE ON A WOODLAND STAGE. 181 
 
 from his father, Thomas MacCollough, who com- 
 mitted a great political crime and was transported 
 therefor in the first prime of his manhood while 
 Kirk was yet a mere boy. Burns had never seen 
 Thomas MacCollough, nor had he known much of 
 the family before Kirk began to pay attention to 
 Margaret ; but since then he had found out the his- 
 tory which now seemed to account fitly for the young 
 man's unparalleled course of evil. From father to 
 son had descended the curse of outlawry. 
 
 But it was natural that Burns' mind, even in the last 
 extremity of despair, should turn with all its Scotch 
 stubbornness and tenacity to take a religious survey, 
 so to call it, of the situation. Perhaps it would be 
 better to say that his thoughts were not driven at 
 once, even by direst calamity, out of the groove in 
 which they had been running since first he began to 
 be a preacher. It had been his rule to measure 
 everything by the standard disclosed to him in the 
 Bible. " Thus saith the Word " had been his hobby, 
 his guide, his comfort. Never during his long, 
 absorbing chase after his child and her atrocious 
 lover, had he forgotten the Sabbath or failed to keep 
 it holy ; never had he neglected the simple forms 
 of worship and of prayer to which his austere con- 
 science and the obligations of his church bound him. 
 He had lived unspotted, and now death hovered 
 over him in that lonely place, with none to lift his 
 head, speak a word of comfort to him or to touch 
 his lips with water. Upon his soul the bitterness of 
 all this settled, as his brain drew it in and ana- 
 lyzed it.
 
 182 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Suddenly there was a revulsion, and it was as if 
 the poles of his nature had been reversed on the 
 instant. From some source he gathered strength to 
 lift his head and shoulders ; then, leaning on one 
 arm, he gazed wildly around. There was a terrible 
 look in his face. He almost bounded to his feet 
 and stood swaying and trembling, his long legs far 
 apart and one hand raised far above his disheveled 
 head. A dying tiger might have glared as did he, 
 and it was with a wild beast's voice that he cried 
 aloud : 
 
 " I will not die I will not die I cannot die. Kirk 
 MacCollough, while you live !" 
 
 It was a grand theatre in which to make such a 
 speech. The dusky trees and the lurking wild 
 things were fitting audience. The realism of the 
 acting was superhuman, and it was also super- 
 humanly romantic. The stage accessories were in 
 perfect harmony with it. Loneliness, grimness, 
 solemnity brooded there, and the wide silence was 
 fitting applause. Two of the evil birds took wing 
 with loud flapping and sailed away from the dead 
 bough on which they had been sitting so patiently. 
 Burns was indirectly aware of them, as he rolled 
 his bloodshot eyes and shook his head till the tan- 
 gled hair fell over his forehead and temples. 
 
 His strength was but spasmodic. The next 
 moment he tumbled down motionless. 
 
 Slowly the sun passed on to the western slope 
 of the sky. The hideous vultures returned to 
 circle round and round, lower and lower ; but they 
 did not dare make the attack. They might have
 
 A SCENE ON A WOODLAND STAGE. 183 
 
 done it soon, however, had they been left to their 
 will. 
 
 Once more the old man roused himself and strug- 
 gled to his feet. The pallor of death flared out of 
 his face, the frenzy of death glittered in his eyes. 
 There were fragments of dead leaves and clots of 
 earth in his hair and beard. Again he flung his 
 hand on high and stood wavering and trembling, 
 while his voice broke forth with awful sonorous- 
 ness : 
 
 " Vengeance ! ' Vengeance is mine, and I will 
 repay !' " 
 
 This time the theatre held one human auditor, 
 who stopped short in his walk and gazed with wide- 
 open eyes at the towering actor in that wild scene. 
 At first Burns looked almost twice his real stature, 
 so dilated was the expression of his form as seen 
 against the dusky spaces and gloomy trunks of the 
 wood. 
 
 " Wall, take my hat for a soap-kittle !" exclaimed 
 the observer, resting the butt of his long rifle on 
 his foot. 
 
 " W'y, w'at's the matter, parson ? W'at in all 
 creation air ye a-doin' yer ?" 
 
 Burns started at the sound of the voice, and half- 
 turned to look. The effort lost him his balance, and 
 down he fell again, his arm still outstretched. 
 
 " Hello ! Hello !" shouted the man, running for- 
 ward as rapidly as a crooked leg would permit, " air 
 ye ailin', parson ?" 
 
 He half recoiled at the sight of the blood on 
 Burns's clothes, and his rough face showed surprise
 
 184 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 and quick sympathy. He had been accustomed to 
 open-air tragedies, had, indeed, been a star per- 
 former in not a few ; but here was a mystery as 
 well as a catastrophe. For lack of other vent to 
 relieve his feelings withal he began to swear dis- 
 approvingly, intimating through his oaths that it 
 would please him to hew limb from limb the man 
 who hurt Parsons Burns. 
 
 " Parson, parson !" he exclaimed, stooping over 
 him and touching his shoulder. " Wat's the matter 
 of ye, parson ?" 
 
 Then, as he received no answer, he straightened 
 himself up, leaned on his gun and scratched his head 
 with an air of contemplative confusion. Just then, 
 a horse gave forth one of those casual snorts char- 
 acteristic of the genus. It was the animal that Burns 
 had ridden. Not far away it was browsing dolefulty, 
 with a melancholy twist in its cadaverous neck and 
 switching its tail this way and that more by force of 
 habit than in response to the attack of one or two 
 thriftless flies which were content to worry a skin 
 too tough for their tiny spears. 
 
 " Yer, yer, parson ! Wat's this mean ?" he went 
 on, blustering a trifle and shaking the old man's 
 shoulder. " Can't ye speak to a feller ? Air ye bad 
 hurt ?" 
 
 Burns writhed about, turning his grimy face full 
 upon his interrogator. The stare he gave the man 
 fairly chilled him. 
 
 " Pierre Rameau that's your name, eh ?" he 
 gurgled harshly. " Pierre Rameau, I will kill you 
 ki-i-ill you !"
 
 A SCENE ON A WOODLAND STAGE. 185 
 
 He tried with desperate energy to gain his feet, 
 but he faltered and fell. 
 
 " Kill ! Kill !" he moaned. " I cannot I will not 
 die till I have killed you !" 
 
 The incomparable strangeness of his voice and 
 the awful expression of his countenance cannot be 
 indicated ; nor can mere words give any adequate 
 impression of the man, old, withered, ill-clad, grov- 
 eling in the wet, sandy soil, soaked in blood and 
 panting forth intolerable passion. He looked 
 scarcely human more like a beast of prey, wounded 
 to death, tearing madly, blindly at whatever he 
 could feel. His words soon became indistinguish- 
 able and ran together into a harsh, guttural growl. 
 
 Dick Beckett (doubtless the reader has recognized 
 him) was at first too much astonished to be at him- 
 self. As soon as he began to pull his wits together, 
 however, the whole truth became more than a sus- 
 picion in his mind. 
 
 " Who hurt ye, Daddy Burns ?" he demanded 
 in his natural tone of voice. " War it that air devil, 
 Pierre Rameau ?" 
 
 Perhaps hearing Burns repeat the great robber's 
 name had suggested the thought to Dick Beckett, 
 or it may have risen out of the prevalent habit of lay- 
 ing everything cruel and otherwise unaccountable 
 at the feet of Rameau. 
 
 Dick knelt down beside the old man, and, still 
 holding his gun in one hand, felt of the wound, 
 after pulling away the rent clothes from around it. 
 In vain he tried to arouse him.
 
 186 TH3 KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " Well, well tut, tut, tut !" he spluttered. 
 
 Rising again to his feet and standing with most 
 of his weight on his crooked leg, he contemplated 
 the situation, while with the fingers of his left hand 
 he worried the frowzy red hair that hung under the 
 brim of his battered cap. 
 
 " Poor ole daddy !" he exclaimed, after a while. 
 " He do seem to be 'bout done for !" 
 
 Dick possessed executive ability of a sort, and 
 when he got his faculties rightly put together there 
 was no such a thing as his giving up to circum- 
 stances contrary to his wish. He examined Burns 
 and found that he was not yet dying. The next 
 thing was to save him. This looked like a forlorn 
 hope, but he would try it at all events. So he 
 caught the lingering horse and with its aid bore 
 Burns through the wood to his cabin. 
 
 Here I insert a short paragraph from the " Honey 
 Island Records." The reader will feel, in reading 
 it, a waft from the old reckless life of the frontier : 
 
 " Dick Beckett," it goes on to say, " found the 
 preacher in a sad condition when he reached home 
 with him, which it was after dark at the time, and 
 he struck a light. The wound was a tear in the 
 side dug by a pistol bullet that had been amazingly 
 flattened on a silver watch afore doing it. ' I will 
 save him !' said Dick Beckett, who was a good 
 nurse besides a distracting fiddler : and, belike, he 
 had original medicine strange roots and such. 
 Some do say he did possess a root of the man-plant 
 which he salved the hurt with. Sure enough, any-
 
 A SCENE ON A WOODLAND STAGE. 187 
 
 way, he cured him betimes. What they do say, 
 also, is that Dick Beckett did fiddle and play pro- 
 fane musick unto the preacher what time he con- 
 valesced, even such tunes as ' Sugar in the Gourd ' 
 and ' Riding on a Rail,' not to make special mention 
 of ' There's Whiskey in my heel.' No doubt, how- 
 ever, this matters not, seeing that the preacher 
 survived and at last went on his way." 
 
 In the French version of the story there is a state- 
 ment not to be found in the other accounts. 
 
 " It cannot be denied, "runs this Creole document, 
 which appears to be a rough translation of some 
 lost English writing " It cannot be denied that 
 Burns, the preacher, did swear vengeance on Pierre 
 Rameau, the robber (forban is the French word 
 used), and did express himself in language dreadful 
 in its nature. Some think that this Dick Beckett 
 hath fiddled all the piety and tenderness of religion 
 out of the old man's soul, for, after this, he is 
 mightily changed in his temper and disposition, and 
 some desperate acts are set down to his credit." 
 
 Dick Beckett himself, in his extreme old age, when 
 his mind ran mostly on things long since done, was 
 sometimes ready to talk about Burns ; but even the 
 garrulity of nearly a century of years did not over- 
 come a certain tantalizing discretion. The most 
 that he would tell was to the effect that Burns 
 seemed a little "onsettled in 'is upper story w'en 'e 
 got well." 
 
 " Yes," he would remark, ' I 'member how 'e
 
 188 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 looked w'en e tip an* lole me good-bye an' went off 
 to s'arch for Pierre Rameau. 'Twas ob a Thurs- 
 day mornin' an' 'e said : 
 
 " ' Farewell Dick. I go unto Honey Island an 
 woe be upon that infernal darn rascal what stole 
 my chile !" 
 
 Doubtless this seemed to the aged fiddler the 
 exact language of Burns ; but it does not sound like 
 him. If we cannot wholly believe that there could 
 have been a change so sudden and so radical in the 
 character of one who had been for so many years 
 a sincere and singularly humble-minded preacher, 
 we must, at least, give due weight to the evidence 
 tending to prove it. 
 
 One thing is pretty conclusively settled : Burns 
 did penetrate to the innermost fastnesses of Honey 
 Island, and, not finding Pierre Rameau there, made 
 his way, by what route is not known, to New 
 Orleans, where for some time he attracted little 
 attention, though he wandered about by night and 
 by day, going into all sorts of places, his eyes full 
 of a half-smoldering fire and glancing keenly into 
 the face of every person he met. 
 
 He had no money, and how he lived has never 
 been found out, though after a time he met Vasseur, 
 who thenceforward took such care of him as circum- 
 stances permitted. 
 
 He had but one thought and that thought was 
 Pierre Rameau.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN THE RAIN. 
 
 " Do you know me ?" 
 
 " Ta ! Yes, how do you do ?" 
 
 It was evident that Mr. Vernon was trying hard 
 to cast off surprise and appear quite at ease ; but 
 lately he had been finding this more difficult than 
 he was willing to acknowledge. His mind had been 
 disturbed, and one burning suspicion was falling 
 deeper and deeper into his heart. 
 
 He could not just then fairly understand why to 
 see Burns standing before him should startle him 
 so. True, the old man's face and form were clothed 
 upon with an indescribable suggestion of weird- 
 ness ; but to a man like Mr. Vernon this could not 
 be a source of mental disquiet ; it was not specially 
 observed on the moment. 
 
 " I hope that you and your family have been well 
 and happy since the time of your great kindness to 
 me," said Burns, offering his hand, which Mr. Vernon 
 felt to be like ice when he touched it. 
 
 Not the chill wind nor yet the almost numbing 
 rain could account for the singular shiver and 
 
 Li8 9 ]
 
 190 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 repulse which came out of that hand-clasp into Mr. 
 Vernon's blood. It was like touching the flesh of 
 a corpse, only it was far colder. On the old wan- 
 derer's cheeks burned hectic spots. 
 
 " Yes yes, we are all very well yes, very well. 
 I am glad to see you again, sir. The ladies will be 
 proud to have you come. Why haven't you been to 
 the house ?" 
 
 " I have been often but could not get in. Your 
 man thinks I'm a beggar." 
 
 " Ta ! I'll teach him better." 
 
 Evidently, the presence of Burns, while not exactly 
 an annoyance to Mr. Vernon was by no means a 
 pleasure. Aside from any effect produced upon 
 him by an apparition so unexpected, and taking no 
 account of the startling expression of the old preach- 
 er's strangely emaciated face and concentrated gaze, 
 there was something inopportune, out-of-place and 
 unwelcome in the sudden meeting. We have 
 moments when any index to our past is unbear- 
 able. Mr. Vernon was constrained ; his manner 
 and voice were unnatural. 
 
 Burns eyed him a moment, then said : 
 
 " No. Don't bother with it. I am a beggar, a 
 tramp, and I do not wish to disturb a happy family. 
 What I went is easily told." 
 
 " Speak it, my dear sir, speak it ; it is already 
 yours." 
 
 Mr. Vernon was still holding that clammy hand 
 and looking firmly and kindly, albeit with a sort of 
 artificial expression, into Burns's deep-sunken and 
 inflamed eyes.
 
 IN THE RAIN. 191 
 
 " No, that is a polite lie. Wait till I make my 
 desire known, then see if you can be so generous." 
 
 " Ta ! 1 see you are ill. Come in and have 
 some wine." 
 
 " I drink nothing but water. I am not ill. I am 
 well and strong and shall reach my goal soon." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, sir very glad, indeed." 
 
 Mr. Vernon wanted to shake him off for the pres- 
 ent and go into the club-room of the Chats-Huants ; 
 he wanted to see Colonel Loring again ; but Burns 
 would not be abandoned. 
 
 " I am close on the track of Pierre Rameau," he 
 said, " and I want your help. Turn your hand for 
 me now, and I have him." 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood silent, and a peculiar shadow 
 crept over his face. 
 
 "Ah, I see you are quite prompt, quite ready !" 
 exclaimed Burns, after a mere moment. The irony 
 was merciless. 
 
 <4 What do you mean, sir ?" demanded Mr. Vernon. 
 A gray film of passion or of some other deep feeling 
 crept over his cheeks above the beard. 
 
 " Bah ! Where were you going just now ?" 
 demanded Burns, as if with authority. 
 
 " Sir !" 
 
 " 1 can tell you. You were going upstairs, in 
 there, to the room of the Chats-Huants, to meet 
 Pierre Rameau, the robber." 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 " You know that it is so." 
 
 " It is not true it is " 
 
 " Don't be angry. Stop and think. Stop and
 
 192 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 turn about. I like you ; I owe my life to you. I 
 would save yours now. Don't go in there." 
 
 Two or three suspicious-looking fellows came 
 near and acted as if they were trying to overhear 
 what was being said. Perhaps they thought it was 
 a quarrel that would end in a fight, the most inter- 
 esting thing in the world to such characters. 
 
 Burns, like the Ancient Mariner, was holding his 
 auditor with his glittering eye. The wedding-guest 
 was not more enthralled than was Mr. Vernon, albeit 
 the latter turned abruptly and would hear no more 
 for the moment. He could not, however, tear him- 
 self loose from the old man, who followed him and 
 stepped again in front of him, now laying his hand 
 on his top-coat's lapel and thrusting his eager, 
 cadaverous lips close to his ear. 
 
 "Come aside somewhere, only for a minute. 
 Don't stay here for heaven's sake, don't !" he 
 exclaimed, in a shrill whisper. " The time is at 
 hand ! Vengeance is mine ! Come ! I hear them 
 approaching." 
 
 While he spoke, he was fairly forcing Mr. Vernon 
 along, leading him away from the door of the 
 restaurant. 
 
 About this time, a young man rode down the 
 street at a swift pace and, flinging himself from the 
 saddle of his beautiful horse, ran into the place, 
 leaving the animal standing unhitched and unat- 
 tened. A little later Colonel Loring came out, 
 mounted and rode away. 
 
 So intent was Burns in his effort to draw Mr. 
 Vernon aside, he did not notice this incident. Out
 
 IN THE EAIN. 193 
 
 slipped the Chats- Huants, one by one, two by two, 
 quickly, silently, scattering and disappearing as if 
 by magic. 
 
 A little later, a company of mounted soldiers 
 swept round a corner and deployed in front of the 
 building. Of course, they were too late to make the 
 capture they had intended, and when they leaped 
 from their horses, pistols in hand, and rushed in, they 
 discovered that their bird had flown. 
 
 The clatter of hoofs as they came up attracted 
 Burns's attention. He let go his hold and turned. 
 
 " In there ! In there !" he cried, leaping forward. 
 " Up the stairway to the right ! Follow me !" 
 
 He led the way with incredible nimbleness for 
 one so old and frail-looking. A long, keen knife 
 flashed in his hand. 
 
 The rush was over in a minute. Doors were 
 dashed open or kicked off their hinges, and the 
 rooms above and below were searched without cere- 
 mony. 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood looking on, apparently quite 
 calm. He had seen Colonel Loring go, and now he 
 comprehended the whole affair. It had been well 
 planned and well executed, notwithstanding the 
 outcome. But for the faithful spy at Jackson's head- 
 quarters and the swift courier sent in the very nick 
 of time, Loring would have been taken. 
 
 " I said all the time that the old fool was crazy," 
 growled the officer who had led the dash. " The 
 whole story was absurd." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the subaltern whom he
 
 194 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 addressed, " it was indeed a fool's errand. Storm- 
 ing a junk-shop and led by a ragamuffin !" 
 
 They were coming out of the building, disap- 
 pointed and vexed, ashamed of the part they had 
 been forced to play in a scene so like a farce. 
 
 " You'd better go home and soak your head, old 
 man !" added one of them, turning with brutal sever- 
 ity and addressing Burns. " I s'pose you've beer, 
 drunk for a month." 
 
 The old man paid no attention to the remark, 
 did not even glance at the speaker, but walked forth 
 into the street and away, with his chin on his breast 
 and his knife in his hand. 
 
 He overtook Mr. Vernon, or rather they came 
 together when the latter emerged from a side street 
 a block or two distant from the scene just witnessed. 
 The rain was still slanting along the wind in a fine 
 drizzle ; Burns looked pinched and blue. Without 
 a word, Mr. Vernon drew off his top-coat and hung 
 it over the old man's shoulders. 
 
 " Put away your knife," he said. " You will need 
 it." 
 
 Burns obeyed mechanically, hiding it somewhere 
 in his bosom. Evidently he was but vaguely aware 
 of what he was doing. His vision was introverted, 
 his feelings were numbed. 
 
 "You will come home with me now," Mr. Vernon 
 added, taking him gently by the arm. " We will 
 have dinner." 
 
 Burns looked up quickly with a glance of suspicion 
 or, perhaps, of deeper meaning. 
 
 " No," he said, " I will not."
 
 IN THE RAIN. 195 
 
 Further words on the subject were shut off by 
 the peremptory tone and manner. They walked 
 on a little way in silence, hearing the surface- 
 water bubble in the gutter beside the trottoir. Few 
 people were in the streets ; but the gambling- 
 rooms were full, the coffee-houses noisy. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Vernon closed his grasp more 
 firmly on Burns's arm and, looking into his face 
 said with the force of a command : 
 
 " Tell me, is Colonel Loring Pierre Rameau ?" 
 
 Burns started at the mention of the latter name. 
 
 " You know Pierre Rameau ; I know you do," he 
 answered, slowly drawing out his words. " He 
 calls himself Colonel Loring here in the city ; but 
 you know that he is Kirk MacCollough, son of Jane 
 MacCollough, whose husband was Thomas Mac- 
 Collough, the traitor, who was banished nearly 
 forty years ago." 
 
 There was a horrible leer in the old preacher's 
 eyes. It was the same glare that had been in the 
 eyes of the vultures when they sailed low over him 
 during those dreadful days in the woods. Behind 
 his words there stretched an infinitude of signifi- 
 cance ; it was as if each syllable echoed back to 
 some far date and stirred up long buried sentiments. 
 Mr. Vernon stopped short in the street and held 
 him as in a vise. 
 
 " What are you saying ?" he demanded, hoarsely. 
 " What do you know about Thomas MacCollough 
 and Jane MacCollough ? Who are you ?" 
 
 Burns did not speak forthwith. 
 
 "Ta! You are crazy!" Mr. Vernon added,
 
 196 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 thrusting him away with such force that he almost 
 fell into the gutter. But there was no anger in the 
 act. 
 
 " Yes, I am crazy," the old man said, when he 
 had regained his equilibrium, " and you ought to 
 be." 
 
 At this moment came a curious exchange of 
 glances between them. It was like a quick 
 acknowledgment of a common thought, pang -bur- 
 dened and unwelcome to one, a matter of hopeless 
 indifference to the other. 
 
 Mr. Vernon picked up the top-coat, which had 
 fallen from Burns's shoulders, and replaced it with 
 gentle care. 
 
 " I knew Jane MacCollough," he said ; " she was 
 Jane Alexander before she was married." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you said she had a son ?" 
 
 " Yes ; Kirk Colonel Loring Pierre Rameau. 
 These three are one." 
 
 "You know this?" 
 
 " You know it." 
 
 They stood there in the rain and searching wind, 
 the water dripping from their hat-brims and their 
 gray locks tossing about. Mr. Vernon combed his 
 abundant beard with his fingers. 
 
 Burns came closer to him. 
 
 " I think I had best tell you," he said ; " for, after 
 all, you ought to know." 
 
 " I know already," Mr. Vernon calmly replied, 
 " all that you can tell me, and more." 
 
 " No, not all. Kirk MacCollough's last no not
 
 IN THE RAIN. li>7 
 
 exactly last, nor yet his worst, but one of his acts 
 you have no account of. I will tell you." 
 
 Then the old man described his meeting with 
 Pierre Rameau in the Pearl- River country and the 
 cold-blooded event of it. He showed no senile 
 garrulity in delivering himself. Indeed, the blunt 
 thrust of his sentences gave an awful realism to his 
 story. 
 
 " I felt that it was best to tell you," he added at 
 the end, with something like a suggestion of regret 
 or apology for the infliction. 
 
 " Oh, certainly !" said Mr. Vernon. 
 
 The coolness of this remark, not far removed 
 from sheer indifference, seemed to excite Burns 
 inordinately, and, as if in retaliation, he began at 
 once to tell what Rameau had said regarding the 
 fate of Margaret, and consciously with great cun- 
 ning or unconsciously with supreme feeling he 
 presented the absolute dramatic spirit of the terrible 
 deed. 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood in an attitude of stark attention. 
 The story was quickly told with few gestures and in 
 a low tone. 
 
 " But but " Burns hesitated a moment as he 
 was concluding, gazing fixedly the while " though 
 you saved my life, though I would all but die for 
 you and yours, I cannot spare him I cannot spare 
 him, even for you !" 
 
 Mr. Vernon wrung water from his beard and 
 stood silent. The rain was soaking his clothes, but 
 he did not feel it. 
 
 A little later, the two old men parted, Biirns
 
 198 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 refusing to accompany the other any farther or to 
 accept any aid from him. Unconsciously, however, 
 he wore away Mr. Vernon's comfortable top-coat. 
 
 At Chateau d'Or, meantime, Pauline and her 
 mother were discussing a subject which mothers 
 and daughters have busied themselves with since 
 the first day that love and marriage were lifted to a 
 true sanctity in human households. Fairfax had 
 just gone away ; and Pauline, with true French im- 
 petuosity, an inheritance from Madame Vernon, 
 ran to that warm-hearted woman and flung herself 
 into her arms. The act interpreted itself, for the 
 mother knew every movement of her child and its 
 meaning. She had expected this and was glad of 
 it, and yet she felt a thrill that was more than half 
 a pang as she clasped the lithe, quivering form and 
 began passionately to kiss the blooming lips and 
 cheeks. She felt hot tears dropping from the girl's 
 eyes. 
 
 " But he is going to the army !" Pauline sobbed. 
 " Going right away to fight !" 
 
 " And your father, too, is going," said Mrs. Ver- 
 non, stroking her bright hair, soothingly. " We 
 must be as brave as they." 
 
 In the midst of her distress, which was so largely 
 joy, Pauline felt a distinct satisfaction in the paral- 
 lel implied by her mother's remark. It was as if 
 she had said : " My dearest one, too, is going to 
 join the army. If I can let mine go, you can let 
 yours go. We are quite on an equality in the mat- 
 ter." The comfort in this leveling and blending
 
 IN THE RAIN. 199 
 
 suggestion may have been remote and obscure to a 
 degree ; but it was nevertheless unmistakable. 
 
 " But they will be killed ! They will be brought 
 back dead !" Pauline continued, putting a hand on 
 each side of her mother's face and gazing through 
 her tears. 
 
 " We'll hope not. We'll pray for their safety, my 
 dear. God takes care of us all. He keeps our 
 beloved ones for us." 
 
 " Our beloved ones !" The phrase was like a sweet 
 chime in Pauline's ears. 
 
 "But why must war come just now, mamma, 
 dear ? Just now just now when we are so happy !" 
 
 " Men must fight, you know ; it is their glory. 
 And we poor women must wait and pray." 
 
 A servant announced Mademoiselle de Sezannes, 
 who soon appeared, still muffled in her carriage- 
 cloak, with a touch of the rain on her clothes. Her 
 beauty was much heightened by her air of excite- 
 ment. She had come to Pauline for comfort in her 
 distress. Lieutenant Ballanche had been sent down 
 the river in command of a scouting party detached 
 by order of General Jackson. 
 
 " I couldn't stay at home !" she exclaimed, casting 
 aside her cloak and rushing impetuously into Paul- 
 ine's embrace. " I am so troubled, so nervous ! 
 Papa says that the enemy will be in the city 
 before the week is past." 
 
 Pauline pulled her down into her lap with girlish 
 tenderness and fondness, soothing herself by caress- 
 ing her friend. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon took Mademoiselle de Sezannes's
 
 200 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 hand and stroked it. The three were drawn close 
 together in a striking group near the center of the 
 room whose windows were festooned inside with 
 almost priceless tapestry and outside with blooming 
 vines. Despite the chill of the December air, with 
 its searching dampness, the perfume of roses and 
 violets was sweetly prevalent throughout the house. 
 
 " Why, you have lost the set of your ring !" Mrs. 
 Vernon exclaimed, as her fingers touched the little 
 circle of gold claws that had held a large diamond 
 in place. 
 
 " No !" 
 
 " Yes. See !" 
 
 Mademoiselle looked down and turned pale. 
 
 " And it was the ring he gave me my " 
 
 "Your engagement ring !" 
 
 For the time they forgot war and its terrors in 
 their consternation over a lost bauble ; but, then, 
 the bauble stood for so much ! They sprang to 
 their feet, and the diamond set rolled, flashing, on 
 the carpet. All three stooped to pick it up, and so 
 pressed and crushed themselves together in beauti- 
 ful disorder, actually laughing and ejaculating gayly. 
 
 " Oh, I could not I could not lose this !" cried 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes. 
 
 She kissed the stone and fondled it against her 
 cheek. 
 
 " You know I lost the large ruby out of my fan on 
 the night of your party," she went on to say. " I'm 
 having bad luck with my jewels." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you lost the Caribbean 
 ruby, as you called it ?" inquired Mrs. Vernon.
 
 IN THE BAEff. 201 
 
 "Yes, the buccaneer. You recollect, Pauline, 
 that Mr. Parker admired it so much that evening. 
 I was nearly heartbroken when I found that it was 
 gone. Though I would rather lose a hundred like 
 it than this darling set." And again she showered 
 kisses on the diamond. 
 
 It would have been a trifle startling to the ladies, 
 could they have been informed just then that 
 Parker, alias John A. Murrell, had sold the ruby in 
 Memphis and made merry with crapulous friends in 
 expending the money received for it. 
 
 Mr. Vernon came in presently, wet and chilled. 
 He went directly to his own room to change his 
 clothes and be rubbed by a servant. 
 
 When he appeared again, it was to inform his 
 wife and his daughter that they were to be sent to 
 the plantation to remain until after the impending 
 battle had been fought. Preparations for the move 
 would be made immediately. Lapin, the overseen 
 had been notified, and would come early on the 
 morrow with the proper vehicles for taking such 
 things as would be needed. The ladies would go in 
 the family carriage. 
 
 So sudden an announcement, at such a time, 
 added much to the feeling of dread and to the con- 
 fused apprehensions with which Mrs. Vernon and 
 Pauline were already oppressed. It had in it the 
 terrible reality of immediate and dire urgency. A 
 whiff of battle-smoke wafted through the house 
 could not have been more startling. 
 
 " Oh, if I could go with you !" cried Mademoiselle 
 de Sezannes. " It will be awful !"
 
 202 TEE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " But, you can go with us," said Mrs. Vernon. 
 " Why not ? There is room in the carriage." 
 
 " My dear child, yes," added Mr. Vernon, with a 
 serious smile. " It would be so good of you to go 
 and be company for Pauline and Madame Vernon." 
 
 " But, papa and " 
 
 " Oh, there's not such hurry. You can go home 
 and confer with your father. It will be safest for 
 you to be with my family, I am very sure. Tell 
 your father that I advise it and insist upon it The 
 city will be no place for young girls if the English 
 defeat Jackson and come in." 
 
 In some way, through a medium thought at the 
 time to be sufficiently authentic, the story had come 
 to New Orleans that the British officers had prom- 
 ised their men the freedom of conscienceless con- 
 querors, should they capture the city. As the 
 rumors of their approach and of the overwhelming 
 numbers they could oppose to the little. handful of 
 Americans were coupled with a report of such dark 
 significance, the invaders were regarded as savages 
 worse in every respect than the red men who had 
 been so recently conquered by Jackson. A thrill of 
 intolerable apprehension shot through the heart of 
 the wicked city ; but the bedizened dens of vice 
 and infamy abated not one line or point of their 
 cupidity, ceased not by night or by day their hideous 
 carousals. There seemed to be as much danger 
 within as without, in the event of such disorder as 
 would follow the defeat of Jackson. Everybody 
 was aware of the volcanic evil which was burning 
 under the crust of life all around in those teeming
 
 IN THE RAIN. 203 
 
 places where the refuse of the whole world was 
 packed. 
 
 What aggravated the danger was the clash 
 between Jackson and this very class, whose leaders 
 were, in fact, the chief men of the State. The iron- 
 hearted general, however, apparently paid not the 
 slightest attention to any particular individuals of 
 the would-be obstructionists, albeit his eye saw 
 everything and his hand was heavy when it fell. 
 He grasped the situation more intelligently than 
 did Governor Claiborne or any of his associates, and 
 when the moment came, he declared martial law 
 and took charge of everything with a suddenness 
 and vigor that were irresistible. Even the vilest of 
 the forbans and cut-throats were touched by the 
 magnetic influence of his indomitable spirit and 
 courage. Here was a general who was the fit leader 
 of desperate men, and all these outlaws were noth- 
 ing if not willing fighters and scoffers at danger and 
 death. 
 
 Mr. Vernon felt the doubtfulness of the outcome, 
 and, moreover, in any event, the safer place for his 
 wife and Pauline, he thought, would be at the 
 secluded plantation house. As for himself, he had 
 determined that he would report at once to General 
 Jackson.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE JACKSONIAN TEMPER. 
 
 The plantation to which Mrs. Vernon and Pauline 
 were sent lay near the Mississippi River, a few miles 
 below New Orleans. It was a lonely place, and the 
 house, a very plain and simple structure, stood close 
 to the edge of a dreary swamp. Hard by ran a 
 narrow ditch or canal, which was now bankful of 
 muddy-looking water. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes, at the urgent request 
 of the Vernons, accompanied them, although her 
 own parents decided to remain in the city. 
 
 One who is in the least familiar with the topo- 
 graphy of the region round about New Orleans and 
 with the plan of attack determined upon by the 
 British general will suspect that the refugees, in 
 going to the plantation, were running almost 
 directly toward the enemy instead of fleeing from 
 him. This was so in fact, although Mr. Vernon did 
 not for a moment suppose that the final advance 
 could be from any other direction than Lake Pont- 
 chartrain, which lies north of New Orleans. 
 [204]
 
 THE JACKSONIAN TEMPER. 205 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche had not yet returned from 
 his reconnaissance of the Bayou-Bienvenu region, 
 nor had there come any definite report of the enemy's 
 movements on Borgne or up the Rigolets when Mr. 
 Vernon took his long rifle and reported to General 
 Jackson, desiring to fight as an independent private. 
 
 It is always so in the case of an impending advance 
 of an army upon a city wholly unprepared for 
 defense. The want of a sufficient force to keep all 
 the avenues of approach well under observation 
 results, generally speaking, in a total ignorance of 
 just what it is most needful to know. Doubtless 
 General Jackson was in possession of more facts 
 regarding the whereabouts and purposes of the 
 English than the circumstances seemed to indicate; 
 still the lack of troops and munitions and the con- 
 fusing number and intricacy of the waterways and 
 the landways by which it was quite possible for his 
 foes to reach him made everything like regular mil- 
 itary preparation and action on his part well nigh 
 impossible. His memory was good, and when Mr. 
 Vernon presented himself and asked to be assigned 
 at once to duty, he recollected everything in con- 
 nection with their past interviews. Secretly he was 
 glad to make amends for the brusqueness of those 
 occasions, and he was quick to understand that here 
 was a chance for him to secure, perhaps, the adhesion 
 of a class of malcontents who he understood would 
 accept Mr. Vernon as their leader. He grasped the 
 burly old man's hand with diplomatic warmth (for 
 Jackson, despite his willfulness, was a born poli- 
 tician) and pressed it.
 
 206 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " I am glad you have come, Mr. Vernon," he said, 
 with a straight, strong gaze of confidence and 
 pleasure, " for I need you. You can serve me and 
 the country to great advantage just now, sir to 
 great advantage, indeed. I want a company of 
 volunteers armed with rifles, or, for that matter, 
 with guns of whatever kind can be had. You are 
 just the man to raise and lead such a company." 
 
 The general was a magnetic man, and he knew 
 how to direct his great personal power ; but in an 
 instant he felt the counter-thrust of an invulnerable 
 individuality. Mr. Vernon's immense physical pro- 
 portions seemed just then to fling out a spiritual 
 and moral spell which, if it did not entangle Jack- 
 son's agile mind, wrought a singular effect upon his 
 imagination. 
 
 The two men stood facing each other in silence 
 for a moment. 
 
 "Sit down, sir," said Jackson, presently, pushing 
 a chair toward his visitor. 
 
 The room was a large, plain one, and simply fur- 
 nished in the main. The gaunt frame of the gen- 
 eral, as roughly clad as if he had just arrived from 
 the farm, bristled with angles, and a stubble of wiry 
 beard stood out stiffly on his grim, sunburnt face. 
 
 *' I prefer to fight as a private individual attached 
 to any company that you may choose to assign me 
 to," said Mr. Vernon, without appearing to notice 
 the proffered seat. " I am not seeking an office, 
 general." 
 
 " Of course, you are not. But the office seeks you, 
 sir."
 
 THE JACKSON1AN TEMPER. 207 
 
 " No, there are officers, and to spare, as you said 
 the other day ; and, besides, I am not a military 
 man." 
 
 " You are a leader of citizens, and that 's better." 
 
 Jackson could not help admiring the old man, 
 standing there like a Hercules, grown gray in doing 
 miracles of powess. What limbs he had, what 
 shoulders, what a large head and what bulging 
 muscles ! Some rumor of his past life, a vague but 
 fascinating story of wanderings on the seas and of 
 stormy but successful experiences in the wars of 
 many lands, had come to the general's ears from 
 this or that accidental source. Very few imagina- 
 tions are proof against such a film of romance hover- 
 ing over an individual who emphasizes its allure- 
 ment with a personal appearance altogether extra- 
 ordinary. 
 
 " I am too old, general, to think of taking com- 
 mand of even a company," said Mr. Vernon after a 
 moment. He spoke with respectful thoughtfulness, 
 but behind his words was a reserve of something 
 like conscious superiority, or, at least, of absolute 
 self-confidence. He folded his arms across his 
 immense chest, his long rifle in the hollow of his 
 left elbow, its butt on the floor between his feet. 
 " No, I prefer to fight as an individual rifleman ; 
 and, although I am old, my eyes are still good I 
 shoot well." 
 
 " Now, what is the use, Mr. Vernon, of your speak- 
 ing like this !" demanded Jackson, with a hint of 
 his stormy impatience in his voice. It was not of 
 his nature to brook resistance. " Are you not going
 
 208 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 ever to cease resenting my refusal to appoint Lor- 
 ing ? I assure you, sir, that had he been a gentle- 
 man instead of a scoundrel, I still had no place for 
 him." 
 
 " Ta ! It is you who are fretted ! Do you 
 imagine that if I felt so greatly aggrieved I should 
 be here now offering myself as a private soldier? 
 If I desired office, General Jackson, do you feel that 
 I could not have it without asking you ?" 
 
 There was nothing beneath the most superb 
 dignity in Mr. Vernon's way of saying this. It was 
 propounded as a simple question without any ring 
 of personal pique or of undue assumption, and yet 
 there was a sudden cold, hard gleam in his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, well," said Jackson, rather haughtily and as 
 if dismissing the matter once for all, " you must do 
 as you please." 
 
 " I will do this :" Mr. Vernon responded, without 
 taking any notice of the general's mood ; " I will 
 raise a company at nay own expense and have it 
 report to you, properly equipped and officered." 
 
 Before there could be any reply to his words, he 
 saluted gravely and walked out of the room. 
 
 The entrance at this moment of Governor Clai- 
 borne, General Viller6 and M. Tousard, the French 
 consul, forced Jackson's attention into a new chan- 
 nel ; but during the interview, which was important, 
 his thought kept turning back to the singular con- 
 ference with Mr. Vernon. And yet what had there 
 really been in it that should impress him ? Cer- 
 tainly, the mere fact that a citizen of New Orleans 
 had offered himself as a soldier was nothing peculiar
 
 THE JACKSONIAN TEMPER. 209 
 
 or impressive ; men were doing this every day. 
 Moreover, what Mr. Vernon had said was simple 
 enough. Jackson found that it was the man's per- 
 sonality, the extraordinary presence, the suggestion 
 of almost immeasurable experience and of incom- 
 parable dignity, reserve, self-repression that lin- 
 gered in his brain and appealed to him in some 
 obscure but wonderfully potent way. It is credible 
 that Jackson, who was a man of penetrating insight, 
 felt that Mr. Vernon was a type embodying the 
 strange spirit of this romantic Creole civilization 
 that in his stalwart, massive frame there dwelt the 
 composite soul of all this wild, free, untamable 
 swarm in whose midst the general now found him- 
 self, with no efficient means of reaching their 
 natures and warming their sympathies. 
 
 "What did Vernon want?" Claiborne ventured, 
 in his smooth way, to inquire, after the immediate 
 business of the interview was over. 
 
 " He offered his services," said Jackson, evasively. 
 
 " He did ? That is fortunate just at this juncture. 
 Do you know, general, that he is the most import- 
 ant man in Louisiana ?" 
 
 " I have been told that he has influence." 
 
 " It is unbounded," said the French consul. 
 
 " Yes," added General Viller6, with quick interest, 
 lighting a cigar meantime, " we can count upon 
 everything if his hearty support can be secured at 
 once." 
 
 " I asked him to raise and lead a company," said 
 General Jackson. 
 
 " Why, general," said Villere, " I must say that you
 
 210 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 have blundered unwittingly, of course. Raise and 
 lead a company ! You should have taken him 
 close to you at once and made him a confidential 
 adviser." 
 
 " It was he who came with Faval, some time ago, 
 and asked me to take that devil, Colonel Loring, 
 on my staff," Jackson replied dryly and with a 
 savage shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 " He asked that ? He favored Loring !" ex- 
 claimed Villere, in an astonished tone. " Incred- 
 ible !" 
 
 In his excitement he spoke in French, and 
 Jackson did not understand his words ; but his 
 gestures and expression told as much as his lan- 
 guage. 
 
 " Oh, it was Faval's work, perhaps," said Clai- 
 borne. '* You know that Vernon and Faval have 
 always been great friends." 
 
 " Vernon proposes to raise and equip a company 
 of riflemen at his own expense," remarked Jackson, 
 " but he flatly refuses to command it." 
 
 "Of course, he would refuse that, general," said 
 the governor. " You should not expect a man of his 
 stamp to come to that. I see that you have not 
 understood him. Plainly, you do not recognize his 
 importance." 
 
 " Important or not important," exclaimed Jackson, 
 permitting his natural irascibility to appear, " I do 
 not need his advice or, for that matter, yours either !" 
 
 Claiborne, who was no mean diplomat, held his 
 temper and smiled blandly. He had the utmost 
 confidence in Jackson, and was determined not to
 
 THE JACKSONIAN TEMPER. 211 
 
 have a rupture with him ; but he feared Mr. Vernon's 
 influence, and knew that it was necessary to pre- 
 vent, if possible, any further disagreement between 
 him and the commanding- general. Negotiations 
 were in progress between the governor and Lafitte, 
 by which the former hoped to bring a large number 
 of the outlaws of Barataria and other resorts to the 
 aid of the government. Jackson was favoring this 
 scheme, knowing that freebooters were capable of 
 doing most effective service as soldiers. He now 
 asked for a private interview with the general, and 
 when they had passed into an adjoining room, he 
 said : 
 
 " I understand your feelings, general, and am far 
 from wishing to aggravate them ; but let me say to 
 you in deepest confidence that Mr. Vernon is just 
 now an indispensable person to us. He alone can 
 control the mass of the Creoles and especially the 
 lawless class. I tell you that we cannot do without 
 him." 
 
 Claiborne spoke more from conjecture than from 
 any definite knowledge. He did know, however^ 
 that Mr. Vernon's influence was as powerful as it 
 was mysterious ; that his wealth, though great, and 
 his liberality, though democratic, could not wholly 
 account for the hold he certainly had upon the dan- 
 gerous class of persons who constituted in reality 
 the larger number of the effective fighting men of 
 the State. 
 
 Jackson walked the floor. He had been terribly 
 worried with reports of plots and combinations 
 against him in the city. The legislature had not
 
 212 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 done as he wished, the courts were disposed to assert 
 the superiority of the law, and certain of his inju- 
 dicious friends had magnified to him the evidences 
 of sedition among the Creole population. Added 
 to all this, reinforcements were slow in arriving, 
 and such as had come were miserably deficient in 
 equipment, without food and very inadequately 
 clad against the unusual cold of the season. 
 
 He felt that patriotism as well as self-interest 
 demanded of the people of New Orleans and of 
 Louisiana the most enthusiastic and heroic self-de- 
 votion in behalf of his purposes. Knowing his own 
 courage and genius and seeing with the absolute 
 vision of the born general the supreme need of the 
 hour, he could have no patience with anything or 
 anybody that did not fall at once into line and obey 
 his every command, execute his every suggestion 
 and show the most active faith in his superiority. 
 
 " I despise and detest the whole crew of French- 
 men," he presently blurted out, " and I'll blow them 
 to everlasting scraps, before long, if they persist in 
 their disloyalty to the country. Claiborne, you go 
 at once and tell that legislature to adjourn tell 
 them that I say so." 
 
 The governor stood for a moment confounded ; 
 but it did not take long for him to see that General 
 Jackson meant to be obeyed. 
 
 *'Ihave already suggested an adjournment," he 
 replied, " but of course there is some opposition." 
 
 "From the infernal Creoles ? But I will not per- 
 mit opposition from anybody, do you hear ? This 
 thing is coming to a point right shortly. 1 am in
 
 THE JACKSONIAN TEMPER. 213 
 
 command here and, by the Eternal, I am going' to 
 be master ! You go at once, governor, and tell that 
 legislature to shut up shop, and if it doesn't do it I'll 
 pitch it bodily into the river. They haven't got a 
 Wilkinson to trifle with now." 
 
 Along with General Jackson's assumption of 
 superiority there went an immense capacity for 
 being just what he assumed to be. He overawed 
 Claiborne from the moment of his arrival in New 
 Orleans, and, to all intents and purposes, took charge 
 of the State Government. 
 
 It will never be known just how far actual treason 
 went in plotting the betrayal of Jackson and the 
 delivery of the city to the British commander ; but 
 the movement was more than an incipient impulse. 
 There were many men in New Orleans who dreaded 
 to have the power of the United States government 
 well fixed in Louisiana. Wilkinson had more than 
 winked at a free and easy understanding with the 
 for -bans \ robbers, negro-stealers and smugglers, and 
 there can belittle doubt that Claiborne, although he 
 would have preferred law and order, was the sort of 
 politician to turn his back and not see the worst that 
 his supporters did. He knew Mr. Vernon's power, 
 had more than once felt it in his favor when it was 
 political salvation to have it on his side. 
 
 He knew but little of Colonel Loring ; but since 
 the incident of the nose-pulling he had heard a great 
 deal about him. Rumor was having it everywhere 
 that Loring and Pierre Rameau were one and the 
 same man, and that now the far-reaching organiza-
 
 214: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 tion of which this redoubtable outlaw was king 
 would be turned against Jackson. 
 
 Claiborne had already gone too far in his support 
 of General Jackson to take any backward step, even 
 if he had desired to do it, and it was absolutely nec- 
 essary now that he should use the finest diplomacy, 
 in order to avoid falling between two stools. 
 
 " I will go at once, general, and have a confer- 
 ence with Louallier and Roffignac," said he, in a 
 tone of ready compliance, " and, if possible, I will 
 have the adjournment declared." 
 
 " Governor, there can be no ifs or ands about it ; 
 the adjournment must come at once !" exclaimed 
 Jackson, with overbearing sternness. " They will 
 adjourn, or I will adjourn them !" 
 
 Claiborne's face paled with sudden anger, but he 
 made no response ; simply bowed and retired. As 
 he went out he met Lieutenant Ballanche coming in. 
 The young man looked fatigued and somewhat in a 
 hurry, as if he had come from a distance in great 
 haste and was bearing important news ; he greeted 
 Claiborne deferentially as he passed, but did not 
 stop. The sandy mud showing in splashes all over 
 him t(-ld of a long, hard ride. 
 
 The governor would have given a good deal to 
 know what message Ballanche was bearing, and 
 tinder any other circumstances he would have turned 
 back into the room. He could not trust himself to 
 do this now ; he was too much wrought upon by 
 Jackson's tyranny. There was something in the 
 young officer's look and manner, however, that told 
 a stirring story,
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SEEKING REFUGE. 
 
 The journey to the plantation was a compara- 
 tively short one, and the three women at first found 
 it not so tiresome and uninteresting as they had 
 feared, although it was depressing to a degree. 
 
 They set out early in the morning through a 
 country somewhat gloomy, and in places covered 
 with water. The rain fell at intervals, but the sun 
 flashed warmly out between the showers, as the 
 winter sun does in that fickle, April-like climate, 
 giving them now and then a golden gleam while 
 they were trundled slowly along under the moss- 
 hung trees. The spacious carriage with its easy 
 springs and luxurious cushions afforded ample room 
 for its fair occupants to rest at ease. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes, who had never been 
 much in the country and whose volatile spirits 
 were easily set to effervescing, found a good deal to 
 interest her on the way ; but Mrs. Vernon and 
 Pauline could not pull their minds away from the 
 fact that they were once more leaving Chateau 
 
 [215]
 
 216 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 d'Or for an indefinite sojourn in a lonely plantation 
 house. Their former experience of country life in 
 a remote place, as they now involuntarily recalled 
 it, did not present to their minds its more pleasing 
 associations, but turned persistently to view those 
 closing incidents which were coupled with the com- 
 ing of Burns and the robbing of Vasseur. To be 
 sure, Pauline remembered, with a girl's vivid faith- 
 fulness, every look, every word, every movement of 
 Fairfax during those dawn-hours of her love ; but 
 the darker things would insist on taking preced- 
 ence, and her mind dwelt upon all that she had 
 heard of Pierre Rameau and his crimes. She and 
 her mother had both strenuously objected to leav- 
 ing the city, and having set out under protest, they 
 woman-like, made the whole journey in a state of 
 mind averse to any sentiments of wayfaring appre- 
 ciation. 
 
 The venerable coachman, muffled in his broad- 
 caped great-coat, hummed many a negro melody in 
 a soft falsetto voice, and between snatches grumbled 
 at the horses because they did not keep well in the 
 rather vague roadway. 
 
 " It seems too bad," said Mademoiselle de Sezan- 
 nes, after she had somewhat exhausted herself in 
 making inquiries touching the natural objects new 
 to her eyes as they passed them by in the strange 
 old forest " It seems too bad that this dreadful war 
 should break up all our delightful winter enjoy- 
 ments and send us away into exile to dream of 
 slaughter and all manner of dreadful evils. Is,n't it 
 so, Pauline ?"
 
 SEEKING KEFUGE. 217 
 
 " Do not speak of it ! It rends my heart !" spoke 
 tip Mrs. Vernon. " I shall not see a moment's peace, 
 asleep or awake, till it is all over." 
 
 " And how are we to be any safer away out here 
 in the woods, I should like to know ?" demanded 
 Pauline, with more genuine petulance than her 
 mother had ever before known her to indulge. " I 
 know that I should feel better at home in the city." 
 
 " But if I were a man," exclaimed Mademoiselle 
 de Sezannes, shrugging her fine shoulders and 
 emphasizing her words with quick French gestures, 
 " I would stay at home with my family and protect 
 it instead of " 
 
 " Oh, no," Mrs. Vernon interrupted. " How 
 could you protect them single-handed ? The men 
 are behaving heroically, dear." 
 
 " And what of us ? What shall we do when they 
 have been killed ? I think it more heroic to stay 
 with those you love and lead them out of danger 
 and keep yourself alive for them than to fight all 
 the battles in the world and die." 
 
 " If the men felt in that way, dear, the English 
 would burn New Orleans before the week's end. It 
 would be unmitigated cowardice. Don't you know 
 it would, dear ?" 
 
 " I don't care ! I don't care ! So there !" ex- 
 claimed the excitable girl, beginning to cry. " I 
 want to go back home. Tell the coachman to turn 
 around. I can't go on ! I can't ! I can't !" 
 
 Pauline joined her friend in shedding tears freely. 
 She, too, felt a sudden, uncontrollable desire to fly 
 back to the city. The two clasped each other o,nd
 
 218 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 nestled their young heads together, sobbing hysteri- 
 cally, while the carriage rolled softly along over 
 the slushy sand or bumped against the palmetto 
 roots. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon understood the unexpressed thoughts 
 of the girls, and felt that fine sympathy which 
 makes the true mother so clear and tender a critic 
 of her daughter's love. She beat back, though she 
 could not forget her own distress in her desire to 
 console and inspirit those budding hearts upon 
 which the first rude wind of trouble was blowing. 
 
 It was while she was using her best endeavors to 
 distract their attention from the subject of the war 
 that the carriage suddenly stopped, and she heard 
 some one speaking to the coachman in a sharp, 
 nasal voice. 
 
 " Kem all the way f 'om town, hev ye ?" the man 
 was saying. " An' w'at air folks a-doin'up thar' ?" 
 
 " I cayn' say, seh," answered the coachman, whose 
 English was of the thin, mincing, Creole kind. " I 
 cayn' say vat zey do." 
 
 " An' who ye got inter the car'ge thar' ?" 
 
 " I hev' ze madame an' ze ma'm'zelles, seh." 
 
 " Oh, weeming, air they ? An' whar' air ye 
 a-takin' 'em to ?" 
 
 " To ze plantaseeon, seh." 
 
 " What pertic'ler plantation air ye a-takin' 'em 
 to?" 
 
 " It ees Mess'u Vernon's, seh." 
 
 " Humph ! Let me take er squint inter thet air 
 vehicle." 
 
 Mrs. Vernon recoiled from the wizened, wrinkled
 
 SEEKING REFUGE. 219 
 
 old face that was just then thrust close to the 
 Carriage window. Mademoiselle de Sezannes 
 screamed shrilly. 
 
 " Beg parding, weeming, beg yer marciful par- 
 ding !" exclaimed the queer looking old fellow, 
 touching his 'coon-skin cap. " Don't ye be uneasy 
 or afeared ; Enos Peevy ain't agoin' to do ye no 
 harm." 
 
 He shifted the long, heavy rifle by a quick, deft 
 movement, so as to let it rest more easily in the 
 hollow of his bony shoulder, at the same time a 
 huge quid of tobacco was rolled from one side 
 of his mouth to the other. 
 
 " Oh, no, no, weeming folks, I air your friend ; 
 don't ye git sceert. Hit air my jooty, ye know, 
 bein' a scout fer Ginerl Jackson, ter kinder squint 
 inter car'ges an' things ter see w'at's in 'em ; but I 
 don't hurt nobody ner nothin'." 
 
 He looked very kindly into the faces of the ladies 
 and chewed his tobacco with great complacency. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes began to speak 
 volubly to him in French ; but he only grinned and 
 scratched his head. 
 
 " 'T ain't no use a-flingin' thet air sort er stuff at 
 me, young 'oman. Up in Tennessee we jes' talks 
 thet same ole lang'age w'at we allus did." 
 
 " You say you are scouting for Jackson ?" suavely 
 inquired Mrs. Vernon, merely to collect herself. 
 
 " Yas, mum ; the gin'ral an' me runs together. 
 Wharsomever ye fin* him ye'll stagger on to me 
 pooty clost 'roun' thar'. He calls me Ole Eyes ; 
 but my name air nothin' but Enos Peevy."
 
 220 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " Thank you, sir. Good morning. Drive on, 
 Catulle." Mrs. Vernon smiled and bowed to the 
 man as graciously as if he had been a courtier. 
 
 The coachman, obedient to the order of his mis- 
 tress, started the horses on at a brisk gaitr. 
 
 " What a queer person !" exclaimed Mademoiselle 
 de Sezannes, when they were well away from the 
 spot. " Tennessee must be a strange country if it 
 is inhabited by that sort of people." 
 
 " But he had a kind face and an engaging way 
 despite his odd dress and comical dialect," said Mrs. 
 Vernon, " and I should be ready to trust him at a 
 time of danger." 
 
 " Oh, but he's so hideously ugly." 
 
 "No, not ugly, dear ; only outlandish -looking. I 
 noted his features carefully and found them of 
 almost Grecian regularity. Old age and exposure 
 have wrinked and bronzed him ; but he has clear, 
 honest eyes and a good face, on the whole." 
 
 Mrs. Vernon urged the discussion in order to 
 draw the minds of the girls away from the recent 
 channel of thought. Pauline was inclined to side 
 with Mademoiselle de Sezannes and say that the 
 scout did not strike her as a person to be implicitly 
 believed in. He must have had some ulterior de- 
 sign in stopping the carriage. It was very easy for 
 a man to call himself a scout ; he might be a robber 
 or even an English spy. Certainly he had found 
 out by most adroit work who they were, where they 
 were going and what they had in their carriage. 
 Perhaps he would come that very night and rob 
 them of their money and jewels.
 
 SEEKING REFUQE. 221 
 
 " Oh, I know that's just what he will do !" cried 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes, relapsing again into hys- 
 terical weeping and beginning to wring her hands. 
 " Oh, please, Madame Vernon, tell the coachman to 
 take us back ! We shall all be murdered this very 
 night !" 
 
 The suggestion was infectious. Pauline caught 
 the chill of fear, and Mrs. Vernon lost control of 
 herself at an unguarded moment. 
 
 The carriage rumbled on through the forest, and, 
 if there had been any person to hear, the voices of 
 the women crying in discord must have sounded 
 strange indeed under the circumstances. 
 
 The coachman must also have been affected, for 
 he urged his horses impatiently and kept increasing 
 their speed until they were making a rather reck- 
 less dash of it along the road within view of a broad 
 grassy marsh stretching away to a shining sheet 
 of water. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon drew all the curtains close over the 
 windows, as soon as she could command herself, and 
 began to chide Mademoiselle de Sezannes and Paul- 
 ine for their foolish excitement. 
 
 Just then there was the sound of a horse gallop- 
 ing by in an opposite course to that of the carriage. 
 Pauline looked out of the little rear window, her eyes 
 still streaming tears. 
 
 " Why, it is Lieutenant Ballanche !" she ex- 
 claimed. " Why didn't he stop and speak to us ?" 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes almost thrust her from 
 the pane in her eagerness to look out.
 
 222 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " It is ! It is !" she quavered. " Call to him ! 
 Stop him ! Oh" 
 
 She clasped her hands and gazed while the vig- 
 orous bounds of the horse bore the young officer 
 farther and farther back along the meandering road 
 between the trees, and presently lost him behind a 
 fringe of bay bushes in the distance. 
 
 " Oh, he never looked back or made even a sign ; 
 and he must have known us !" cried Mademoiselle 
 de Sezannes. 
 
 In a few minutes the carriage was drawn up in 
 front of the plantation house, which was a one-story, 
 wooden structure set upon a high foundation of oak 
 posts connected by a lattice-work of slender boards. 
 An orange grove, dark and rich, stood in the 
 background, and over a squat, broad veranda grew 
 a closely matted jasmine vine. In the distance 
 were rows of negro cabins built under the shade of 
 immense moss-draped live-oaks. 
 
 The coachman dismounted and opened the car- 
 riage-door for the ladies, and little Lizette, Lapin's 
 daughter, ran out of the house to greet them. A 
 sharp, salt breath from the marshes not far off was 
 blowing merrily. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon descended first, followed by Made- 
 moiselle de Sezannes, and then Pauline precipitated 
 herself upon Lizette, whose dark, pretty face was all 
 dimples and smiles. 
 
 The sun came out, too, as if to clear away with a 
 flood of golden light all the gloom that had attended 
 the little journey. 
 
 " Well, weeming folks, I air mighty much er-
 
 SEEKING REFUGE. 223 
 
 bleeged ter ye for this yar ride w'at ye let me hev','' 
 remarked the well-remembered voice of Enos Peevy, 
 the scout. The old fellow had found a seat between 
 the curved suspension springs behind the carriage, 
 where he had ridden unobserved, and now he 
 stepped forth, gun in hand, evidently well satisfied 
 with himself and every person present. 
 
 " Ef ye 'd er knowed 'at I 's thar', I s'pec' ye 'd 
 a' cried more 'n ye did. He-he-he ! Ha-ha-ha ! 
 But ye didn't know it, did ye ?" He chuckled and 
 grimaced comically. " Well, weeming folks," he 
 added presently, shouldering his long rifle and 
 adjusting his otter-skin bullet-pouch and his trans- 
 parent powder-horn, " I mus* be a-goin'. Ef ever 
 I kin do ye a sarvice I'll do it. Good-bye, weeming 
 folks." 
 
 He turned about and walked away, as straight as 
 an arrow and as brisk as a boy ; but before he had 
 gone far he looked back, stopped, appeared to reflect 
 a moment arid then called back to them : 
 
 " Say, weeming folks, I'll tell ye what : Ef I see 
 any sign o' Britishers eroun' yar, w'y, I'll jes* step 
 in an' tell ye, so 's ye kin git up an' skin out afore 
 they cotch ye." 
 
 There was something honest and earnest in the 
 ring of his voice, and the gleam from his steel-blue 
 eyes, if not warm, was steadfast and friendly. 
 When he was gone, Mrs. Vernon remembered this 
 and wondered why she had not thanked him for his 
 proffered kindness ; but the mention of British 
 soldiers, coupled with the suggested probability 
 that they might visit the place, so alarmed her, that
 
 224 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 she could not think of anything else for the moment 
 that he was speaking. 
 
 They found the house most comfortably prepared 
 for them, and when Lapin arrived later in the day, 
 with such of the servants from Chateau d'Or as Mr. 
 Vernon had thought best to send, there came such 
 a sense of homelike security that they could not 
 help looking at one another complacently in silent 
 acknowledgment of what, it now seemed, had been 
 a mood of undue nervousness. 
 
 Lizette had brought in from the flower-garden 
 great bouquets of roses and violets (for, despite the 
 unusual cold weather, the vines and tangled beds 
 were still a mass of bloom), and with these she had 
 deftly decorated the airy and fresh-smelling rooms. 
 Moreover, a delicate luncheon was awaiting them, 
 set in a cozy alcove where low, broad windows let in 
 a soft light which was first filtered through a screen 
 of magnolia-boughs and a gray fringe of Spanish 
 moss. 
 
 Under the circumstances, it was quite impossible 
 for three women, all of them French, to be other- 
 wise than enthusiastic, even if their enthusiasm did 
 consciously root itself back in a heavy sense of but 
 half-suppressed dread. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes was, perhaps, the most 
 cheerful one. She even tried to be gay over the 
 conduct of Lieutenant Ballanche, whom she per- 
 sisted in accusing of willfully passing her by 
 unnoticed. 
 
 It is due to the young man to say, however, that 
 he was scarcely aware of the carriage as he rode
 
 SEEKING REFUGE. 225 
 
 past it. His head was down, and his thoughts were 
 fixed on a most important duty ; for he was flying 
 to General Jackson with news from within the 
 enemy's lines. A fleet of barges, heavily manned 
 with finely equipped soldiers, was on Bayou Bien- 
 venu, and in a few hours the English would have 
 an army safely landed below the city. The inform- 
 ation this time was authentic, for with his own eyes 
 he had seen what he was to report. 
 
 Naturally earnest and intense in his disposition, 
 he felt to the fullest measure the responsibility 
 resting upon him. He would not trust any courier 
 to bear the message which might hold the fate 
 of New Orleans and the country. So he rode all 
 the way as fast as he dared urge his horse, and on 
 his nerves lay the strain of an all-absorbing excite- 
 ment. The carriage whisked past him as a mere 
 formless, colorless incident of his flight to head- 
 quarters. He remembered afterward well enough 
 when he would have given his life to know that he 
 had halted just long enough to bid the coachman 
 turn back and drive at once to New Orleans. 
 Everything and every person visible about the car- 
 riage came out strong and clear, like a suddenly 
 developed photograph, in his mind. The horses, 
 the round-faced, snowy- wooled coachman, the closely 
 drawn curtains, the wheels flecked with sandy mud 
 even the old man riding on the projection between 
 the high-curved springs he could see all so plainly 
 and yet through what a film of horrible mystery ! 
 And in that closed vehicle, though unseen by him, 
 the girl he loved, the girl who had so lately prom-
 
 226 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 ised to be his wife was going on all unhindered to 
 disappear as completely and mysteriously as if 
 caught up by the spirits of the air. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon and the young ladies passed the rest 
 of the day in comparative comfort of mind. Lapin 
 was there with a score or more of strong colored 
 men to protect them ; everything look peaceful and 
 sweet. Why should they be afraid ? They would 
 not be afraid, they declared they would not ; they 
 would be brave women worthy of strong-hearted 
 patriotic men. They vowed it in their inmost hearts. 
 
 So long as daylight lasted, they held well to their 
 determination and kept up a fine show of it ; but 
 even when dinner came, served so faultlessly by 
 Lizette, their hearts began to sink a little, and they 
 felt the chill creeping over them again. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon struggled vigorously against what 
 she knew was the worst thing for them, but what 
 could she do when a dense fog blew in from Borgne 
 and the night became an encircling wall of black- 
 ness, through which the low moaning of some tall 
 pine-trees crept with infinite sadness ? 
 
 She looked for a book to read aloud and chanced 
 upon an old edition of " La Princesse de Chves," by 
 Madame LaFayette. The girls huddled close to 
 her, and she tried to make them interested in the 
 story, taking care not to go too far into its senti- 
 mentalities. Her voice, however, sounded unnatu- 
 ral, she thought, and the volume was soon thrown 
 aside. 
 
 " I can never, never go to sleep to-night !" cried
 
 SEEKING KEFUGE. 227 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes. " Oh, why did I ever 
 come here !" 
 
 Lapin was in the kitchen ; they heard him sing- 
 ing a patois ditty between his pipes. Lizette had 
 gone to bed. 
 
 " We shall be ashamed of ourselves in the morn- 
 ing," said Mrs. Vernon. " The sun will come up, 
 and everything will be so bright and cheerful that 
 it will seem like sinful folly to have been afraid." 
 
 " And think what they what the men who are in 
 the camps to-night may soon have to meet !" Paul- 
 ine found courage to say. " It is they who have 
 the right to be wretched ; and yet I dare say they 
 never think of complaining." 
 
 " I know I am heartless and selfish," Mademoi- 
 selle de Sezannes half sobbed, " but I can't help it 
 it's dreadful ! Why did they send us away off out 
 here alone in the dark ? And then to think that he 
 would ride right past like that !" 
 
 Mrs. Vernon smiled wretchedly. 
 
 " How could he know, dear, that you were in the 
 carriage ? All of the curtains were closely drawn, 
 you remember, and he could not have seen any of 
 us." 
 
 " He might have stopped us he didn't look 
 he" 
 
 Just then there arose a trampling sound, as of 
 men crossing the veranda. Some one knocked on 
 the door, and they heard voices. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon sprang to her feet, the girls clinging 
 tightly and breathlessly to her. 
 
 Lapin came in from the kitchen when he heard
 
 228 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 the knocking and stood irresolute. He still held 
 his pipe in one hand, while with the other he was 
 aimlessly fumbling in the pocket of his jacket. 
 
 " Go to see who it is," Mrs. Vernon managed to 
 say. 
 
 Lapin went gingerly to the door and called out in 
 a weak voice : 
 
 " Who's there ?" 
 
 " A friend," was the prompt answer. 
 
 Pauline and her mother started and looked at each 
 other. 
 
 It was the voice of Colonel Loring. 
 
 " Open the door immediately !" he commanded 
 gruffly. " There's no time for ceremony !" 
 
 Lapin, in a very ague of fear, fumbled at the bars 
 and bolts. His hands shook so that he made slow 
 work of it, and when at last he quakingly pulled 
 open the heavy wooden shutter, he fell back aghast 
 before the tall form of the incomer and gasped 
 hoarsely : 
 
 " Pierre Rameau !" 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE SHADOWS OF DARK DAYS. 
 
 When Lieutenant Ballanche returned from his 
 reconnaissance in the direction of the mouth of 
 Bayou Bienvenu, he brought a report which caused 
 General Jackson to issue orders immediately for the
 
 THE SHADOWS OF DAKK DAYS. 229 
 
 doubling of all the outpost pickets and for all the 
 troops to hold themselves ready to march at the tap 
 of the drum. 
 
 As yet the reinforcements so long and so anx- 
 iously waited for had not arrived, and the situation 
 was most perplexing. From a hundred sources 
 came the information, doubtless exaggerated and 
 over-colored, that the Creoles of the city were con- 
 cocting an uprising in favor of the English. Thus 
 to the commanding general it appeared that, with 
 an overwhelming alien enemy before him, he should 
 have to move his little army down the river and 
 leave behind him a horde of traitors, who were but 
 waiting for an opportunity to fall upon the supplies 
 in the rear and so render defeat inevitable. 
 
 It was at this point that Mr. Vernon came to his 
 aid with three hundred men well armed and 
 equipped. They were not a soldierly looking bat- 
 talion, measured by the ordinary standard of mili- 
 tary taste, but there was fight in them ; and Jackson, 
 who read men at a glance, felt their efficiency, as 
 he looked them over in a hasty review. 
 
 Mr. Vernon had acted with amazing energy in 
 the matter, sending out runners to call a meeting 
 in one of the public squares. Singularly enough 
 these couriers did not seem to notify the better 
 class of people ; but entered the gambling dens, the 
 low cafes, the haunts of the Chats-Haunts, the huts 
 of the river rats and the garrets of the quadroon 
 quarters. And out of these places poured men 
 and youths of all colors, a motley crowd, speaking a 
 half-dozen languages, strangely picturesque, ready
 
 230 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 for anything, and especially ready and willing- to 
 go and do whatever Jules Vernon might ask of 
 them. Their coming together was reported to 
 Jackson who, at first supposing them a mob of bis 
 enemies, thought of marching a force to disperse 
 them ; but he was restrained after much persuasion 
 by Claiborne, Edward Livingston and Commodore 
 Patterson. 
 
 Upon so small an event hung the fate of New 
 Orleans. Had that meeting of the lawless ones 
 been interfered with in the slightest by the mili- 
 tary, the city would have been burned to the 
 ground, with the result of a fatal panic in the 
 already suffering American army. 
 
 Mr. Vernon had caused a small platform to be 
 erected in the square ; from this he addressed his 
 motley assembly in English, in French, in Spanish 
 and in German. He knew just what to say to them 
 and just how to say it. His huge frame and power- 
 fully magnetic face were stong auxiliaries to his 
 eloquent words and richly sonorous voice. Almost 
 immediately the vast crowd beneath him was wild 
 with enthusiasm ; their shouts were heard at Jack- 
 son's headquarters, whither word was quickly 
 brought that a popular movement was being suc- 
 cessfully agitated in his favor by Mr. Vernon. 
 
 The iron chieftain's face lit up with hope and 
 pleasure. Ordering his horse, he at once rode to 
 the scene, coming up at the time when the crowd 
 was at its highest pitch of excitement. 
 
 Mr. Vernon took quick advantage of the incident
 
 THE SHADOWS OF DARK DATS. 231 
 
 Pointing to the general as he sat like a grim statue 
 in his saddle, he thundered forth : 
 
 " Behold, citizens ! Yonder rides your leader 
 your unconquerable general !" 
 
 Every face was turned, and every eye was riveted 
 upon the gaunt form and implacable face of Jack- 
 son. He lifted his hat and waved it with a slow 
 sweep around his head. For a moment they saw 
 the shock of bristling hair, the stern brows and the 
 firm lips they saw the steely eyes gleam as with a 
 vision of victory. 
 
 " Live the Republic !" roared Mr. Vernon, with 
 the voice of a lion. " Live the brave general who 
 has come to save New Orleans and Louisiana !" 
 
 He spoke in French, and his words were the sig- 
 nal for a very tempest of vehement applause. The 
 excitable rabble took up the cry : 
 
 " Live the American Republic ! Live the brave 
 general !" And added thereto : " Down with the 
 English !" 
 
 Claiborne, Louallier and other members of the 
 State government chanced to be in the street, and 
 when they heard the shouts paused to hearken. 
 
 " Vive la republique des Etas-Unis /" arose clear and 
 loud, above the general din. 
 
 " There !" exclaimed Clairborne. " What did I 
 tell J ackson ? That is Vernon warming up the 
 slums. It means everything, everything !" 
 
 " If Vernon tells them to fetch him coals from the 
 devil's oven, they will go after them !" said Loual- 
 lier.
 
 232 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " And bring them in their bare hands," added 
 Claiborne. 
 
 That very night three companies were formed 
 and armed by Mr. Vernon, and the next day they 
 reported for duty. 
 
 General Jackson was delighted, and when Mr. 
 Vernon called at his headquarters, he seized his 
 hand and wrung it savagely. 
 
 " You are the kind of a man that I like !" he 
 exclaimed, his face lighting up and its hard lines 
 softening into cordial enthusiasm of expression. 
 " You are the noblest man of this noble State !" 
 
 There was no mistaking the general's feelings, 
 and Mr. Vernon could not repel them ; indeed the 
 fire of the old days, when he fought by sea and 
 land, was burning high now ; he had fanned it with 
 his own oratory in stirring up the embers in the 
 breasts of that reckless crowd. 
 
 " I know, general, that the safety of New Orleans 
 depends upon the courage and patriotism of her 
 own children," was all the reply that he made ; but 
 his manner and voice told how deeply he felt. 
 
 " True, sir ; true as Gospel !" said Jackson, still 
 holding on to his hand. " And you will lead them, 
 and those English dogs will yelp and cringe before 
 you. You are the mainstay of everything now ; we 
 cannot do without you." 
 
 It was as if a son were speaking to a father. 
 Jackson was in the full prime of life, and, though 
 worn by sickness, still stalwart and rugged ; but 
 Mr. Vernon looked the master who could enforce 
 his will, even with the stubborn and relentless com-
 
 THE SHADOWS OF DARK DAYS. 233 
 
 mander. He smiled a strange, illuminating smile, 
 and his deep-set eyes glowed out from under his 
 grizzled and shaggy brows with a power that was 
 irresistible 
 
 " I am at your command, general I and these 
 men. Where you say go, there we will go or die." 
 
 When Lieutenant Ballanche came in with the 
 report from Bayou Bienvenu, Jackson sent immedi- 
 ately for Mr. Vernon, but was unable to see him till 
 the next morning, when he told him of the ad- 
 vance of the English. 
 
 The old man's face blanched. 
 
 " But my wife and my daughter !" he hurriedly 
 said. " They have just gone out to my plantation 
 near the Bayou. I sent them there but yesterday." 
 
 " Then you had better go get them and bring 
 them back," was Jackson's blunt rejoinder. " We 
 march down the river immediately." 
 
 " Mademoiselle Marie de Sezannes is with my 
 family," said Mr. Vernon, turning to Lieutenant 
 Ballanche. 
 
 It was now that young officer's turn to grow a 
 trifle pale. 
 
 '"Mademoiselle de Sezannes!" 1 he echoed 
 quickly. 
 
 " Yes. She accompanied my wife and daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 " General," said the lieutenant, " I ask for a small 
 detachment and leave to go after the ladies." 
 
 " You cannot go. I cannot spare you," was Jack- 
 son's brusque answer.
 
 234 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Then Mr. Vernon rose to his feet and fixed his 
 eyes upon the general. 
 
 "General," he exclaimed, "the young lady is the 
 lieutenant's promised wife ! He must go !" 
 
 And he went. 
 
 There had been good reason for the failure of 
 General Jackson's messenger to find Mr. Vernon on 
 the day before. Indeed, if he had found him, 
 his message must have been delayed ; for Mr. Ver- 
 non was in no mood to be interrupted. He and 
 Colonel Loring were having a memorable interview. 
 
 Loring came to Chateau d'Or, where the master 
 of the place was superintending some hasty final 
 touches in the way of securing it against intrusions, 
 late in the afternoon. Mr. Vernon was astonished 
 to see him. 
 
 " Why, what upon earth ! What are you doing 
 here ?" he ejaculated, frowning darkly and speaking 
 with infinite impatience. " You told me that you 
 would not come back here again." 
 
 " I never keep my word," remarked Loring ; " it's 
 too inconvenient. I always do just what I happen 
 to wish to do. What are you up to now ?" 
 
 Mr. Vernon looked at him in a hopeless way ; but 
 he did not answer his question. 
 
 " You'll stay here, I suppose, and let the English 
 soldiers show such mercy as they may to your fam- 
 ily and you," continued Loring, half-sneeringly. 
 
 " I have sent my wife and daughter to Lapin at 
 the plantation. 
 
 " At Bay Saint Louis ?" 
 
 " No ; on Bayou Bienvenu."
 
 THE SHADOWS OF DAEK DAYS. 235 
 
 " Oh, out there ! What did you send those de- 
 fenseless women out there for ?" 
 
 " For safety, in case " 
 
 " Safety, indeed ! Don't you know that right up 
 Bayou Bienvenu the English army will come first ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 Mr. Vernon looked uneasily at Loring. 
 
 " Well," said the latter, " I know it, and you had 
 better go fetch them back at once." 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
 Loring laughed, and his laugh was like an open 
 sneer. 
 
 " Oh, to be exact, I expect to lead those jolly red- 
 coats in by that route." 
 
 " Ta ! It is a nasty jest. Be serious if you can. 
 You have something on your mind to say to me. 
 Say it, please." 
 
 " Well, then, I need some money." 
 
 " Certainly you always do ; but how much ?" 
 
 "Ten thousand dollars will do." 
 
 Mr. Vernon, who had been sitting, rose slowly 
 and stood up before Loring. 
 
 " I will not give you one cent," he said, with the 
 accent of finality. 
 
 " Yes, you will, when you know that I do not 
 mean to gamble with it and that I am going straight 
 to the British, who will send me out of this country." 
 
 " Ta !" ejaculated Mr. Vernon. 
 
 " You do not believe me ? Well, on the whole, I 
 do not wonder. But you must trust me this time, 
 at all hazards." 
 
 " I have said no."
 
 236 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " To be sure, but that was before you knew that 
 you owed me a hundred-fold the amount." 
 
 "Ta!" 
 
 Loring leaped to his feet like a tiger suddenly 
 aroused to fury ; but there was no particular change 
 in the expression of his face. His eyelids may have 
 drooped a trifle, so that the openings through which 
 the cold gleam of his eyes shot out were narrowed 
 to mere slits under his handsome brows. 
 
 " Do you dream who I am ?" 
 
 The question was put with a sort of grinding 
 intonation, and the speaker snapped his thumb and 
 forefinger impatiently. 
 
 q> a i" 
 
 " I am Pierre Rameau, and I want ten thousand 
 dollars !" 
 
 " I am Jules Vernon, and " 
 
 "Say, rather," interrupted Loring, "that you are 
 Thomas MacCollough. I like accuracy in business 
 matters." 
 
 Mr. Vernon glared and stood speechless. 
 
 " I know your whole past life, Thomas MacCol- 
 lough, as well as I know my own. You need not 
 become excited in the least. I have known it all 
 these years of our acquaintance." 
 
 " I know your life, too, from your cradle to this 
 moment," Mr. Vernon presently said in a dismal 
 voice ; " I have been told that your name is Mac- 
 Collough, too Kirk MacCollough." 
 
 " We seem to be pretty well acquainted, then, and 
 possibly we are kinsmen."
 
 THE SHADOWS OF DARK DAYS. 
 
 Mr. Vernon lifted his hands as if to ward off the 
 suggestion, and stepped backward a pace. 
 
 " I do not place my demand for the money on 
 that ground, however," Loring went on with a 
 measured, merciless manner of speech ; " but 
 wholly on the ground that you are my debtor. 
 You have grown rich in dealing with Pierre 
 Rameau, and now that you know who that mysteri- 
 ous man is, you cannot object to his demand for 
 money, can you ?" 
 
 Mr. Vernon tottered to a chair and sank into it 
 with the air of one who collapses under a deadly 
 stroke ; his face withered ; his eyes were dull and 
 sunken. At that moment his age seemed doubled. 
 
 " I have no time. I am followed, hounded. Two 
 dogs scent every track I make," Loring continued. 
 " If you cannot give me money, why, of course, I 
 must go without it. I have been a fool, played in 
 hard luck, lost everything, and this infernal war 
 has blocked every channel of my operations. You 
 can feel my condition." 
 
 " What do I care fr>r money !" cried Mr. Vernon, 
 springing up again. " Take all I have it is noth- 
 ing so you go and never return !" 
 
 " Oh, I promise that. I think you can depend 
 upon that." 
 
 Mr. Vernon gazed at him with a look curiously 
 searching, wistful, hopeless. The cold drops of a 
 powerful excitement were beading the old man's 
 forehead. He lifted his hand and wiped them 
 away mechanically. 
 
 " Tell me one thing and tell me truly," he de-
 
 238 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 manded, a husky tremor in his deep voice. " Tell 
 me on your life : Are you the son of Thomas Mac- 
 Collough ?" 
 
 " There's no time now for explanations," said 
 Loring, evasively. His face seemed to soften in 
 some strange way. " It doesn't matter who I am. 
 I am pressed. My life is at stake. I cannot par- 
 ley." 
 
 Mr. Vernon stepped forward and laid a powerful 
 grasp on the younger man's shoulder.. His fingers 
 were like mighty hooks of steel ; they closed over 
 the hard, deltoid muscles with an almost paralyzing 
 power. 
 
 " Speak to me ! Tell me ! You shall not go till 
 you do !" he exclaimed, with the emphasis of des- 
 peration. 
 
 Loring tried to shake him off, not roughly but 
 firmly. He might as well have tried to push out a 
 wall of the house. The other hand closed upon 
 him, and he felt how unequal would be the struggle 
 with the grizzly giant before him. Indeed, his arms 
 were as if pinioned to his sides. 
 
 " If you are indeed Thomas MacCullough's son," 
 continued Mr. Vernon, in that deep, hoarse growl, 
 " you will not lie or evade or hesitate now. Speak, 
 I command you !" 
 
 " I seem to be rather helpless in your hold," said 
 Loring. " When you get tired, let go of me, 
 please." 
 
 Mr. Vernon's hand fell away, and he stepped back, 
 drawing a deep breath as one does who controls 
 passion by sheer force.
 
 THE SHADOWS OF DAEK DAYS. 239 
 
 " Loring," he said slowly, " or Pierre Rameau, or 
 Kirk MacCollough, whoever you are, it is " 
 
 " Stop !" interrupted Loring. " Can you give me 
 the money or not ?" 
 
 A man-servant at the door was parleying with 
 some one whose voice barely reached the room. 
 Mr. Vernon had given orders to admit no person. 
 
 " If you are Kirk MacCollough I will give you the 
 money," the old man almost whispered. 
 
 " I could lie to you," said Loring. 
 
 " If you could, you are not he." 
 
 Mr. Vernon spoke with a tone which seemed to 
 have years of reflection and multitudes of memories 
 in it. 
 
 Loring was fumbling in the breast of his vest as 
 it trying to find something stowed away in deepest 
 security there. 
 
 " A knife or a pistol will not serve you," said Mr 
 Vernon, with calm dignity. 
 
 " I'm not so slow when I reach for a weapon," 
 remarked the other indifferently. " Here, will that 
 be a sufficient pledge for what money you can let 
 me have ?" 
 
 As he spoke he drew forth a small worn leather 
 case and handed it to Mr. Vernon, open. It was the 
 amethyst cross. 
 
 " That argues more forcibly than knife or pistol, 
 doesn't it ?" 
 
 The old man answered not a word ; but an 
 intense feeling seemed to rush into his face. His 
 moiith twitched under his heavy, rimpled, gray 
 beard.
 
 24:0 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 At this moment there was some sort of disturb- 
 ance at the hall-door ; the servant was trying to 
 keep the visitor from entering. 
 
 " Stand aside !" panted the voice of Burns. 
 
 The negro stood aside. 
 
 Loring turned about, and quicker than the gleam 
 of an eye was the drawing of his pistol. 
 
 Burns came into the room, gliding like a serpent. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was ready for the emergency, and he 
 was prompt and certain rather than quick. A 
 stroke of his left hand sent Loring's pistol spinning 
 across the floor ; a sweep of his right caught Burns's 
 arm as it flourished a long knife. 
 
 Loring did not hesitate a second, but, while Burns 
 was struggling to free his arm, walked straightway 
 out of the house. 
 
 In the effort to wring the knife from Burns's 
 hand, Mr. Vernon let fall the amethyst cross, and it 
 tiimbled on the floor, where it lay, flashing a fine 
 purple light. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DESOLATION. 
 
 Mr. Vernon and Lieutenant Ballanche had no 
 sooner received General Jackson's permission to 
 take a detachment of men and go than they set out 
 at full speed, riding down to the plantation house 
 on Bayon Bienvenu.
 
 DESOLATION. 24:1 
 
 Of course, Mr. Vernon's mind was crowded with 
 the incidents of the interview with Loring, and 
 almost as much was he affected by the conversation 
 which had followed when he was left alone with 
 old man Burns. The latter, balked in his effort to 
 stab Loring, and seeing that Mr. Vernon would not 
 let him go at once in further pursuit, gave up and 
 stood pathetically helpless, gazing in blank, despair- 
 ing inquiry at the powerful old man who had 
 handled him as if he had been a child. 
 
 " You assassin !" exclaimed Mr. Vernon, quite 
 out of patience and temper. " You attempt to do 
 murder in my house !" 
 
 " ' Murder ?' No ! That man's life belongs to 
 any one who can take it ! That was Pierre Rameau, 
 I tell you !" Burns replied, with but little show of 
 spirit. 
 
 He stood gazing into Mr. Vernon's eyes for a 
 moment and then added : 
 
 " Did I not tell you what he did to me ? I bore 
 everything. What would you do if you were in my 
 place if he had killed your daughter if he had 
 wrecked your life if he had murdered you in the 
 woods ?" 
 
 " Ta, man !" said Mr. Vernon. " You are excited 
 and nervous. Sit down." 
 
 Then seeing the cross on the floor, he stooped 
 and picked it up. Turning it over in his fingers, 
 he was replacing it in the worn case, when Burns 
 reached for it. 
 
 "Where did you get that?" demanded he, with 
 sudden, breathless haste. " Did he have that ?
 
 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 That is Margaret's ! His mother gave that to Mar- 
 garet ! Let me hold it ! Let me touch it ! Let 
 me kiss it ! Oh, it must have been on her bosom 
 when " 
 
 *' Be still, man. You are wild," said Mr. Vernon. 
 "You do not know what you are saying. This 
 thing has been in my family for a century." 
 
 "Ah, well, I thought forgive me it is so like it." 
 
 The old man held his forehead in his hands as if 
 recovering from dizziness. He reeled, and Mr. 
 Vernon helped him into a chair and brought some 
 wine. 
 
 " No, I never drink it," he said, putting aside the 
 proffered glass. 
 
 After a little he appeared to shake off his weak- 
 ness to a degree. Rising slowly, he said not 
 another word, but picked up his great knife, which 
 lay where it had fallen on the floor, and went out. 
 
 Mr. Vernon did not try to hinder him. The 
 whole thing seemed unreal, and the old man's 
 going had no significance beyond its connection 
 with that sense of inevitable doom which impended 
 shapeless, vague and altogether terrible, some- 
 where in the cloud on Mr. Vernon 's life. 
 
 And so, as they went riding down through the 
 solemn woods in the fine, gray rain that began 
 to fall, Mr. Vernon scarcely spoke or lifted his 
 gaze from the ground until they came near to the 
 bank of Bayou Bienvenu ; and, even then, it was the 
 young man who broke the silence. 
 
 They were side by side, a short way in advance 
 of their little troop, and the rain was blowing in
 
 DESOLATION. 243 
 
 their faces, when a man stepped into the road in 
 front of them, not fifty paces distant. Ballanche 
 drew up his horse, at the same time touching- Mr. 
 Vernon's arm. 
 
 "Hold!" he exclaimed, in a low voice, as he 
 reached for his pistol. " Whom have we here !" 
 
 The man held up his hand and made a friendly 
 sign. 
 
 " Ah, it's Peevy," said the lieutenant ; " one of 
 our special scouts. The English are not far away, 
 I judge, else he would not be here. We will ride 
 on and see what he is up to." 
 
 Mr. Vernon was all attention now ; the sugges- 
 tion of proximity to the British army made him 
 think at once of his wife and daughter. The house 
 was still two miles farther on. 
 
 " How now, Peevy ?" called Ballanche, as soon as 
 they came up to the scout. " What do you know by 
 this time ?" 
 
 Peevy saluted awkwardly and gazed off into the 
 woods as if with utmost concern, chewing his quid 
 meantime and delivering the brown juice at short 
 intervals. 
 
 " I hev' seed some sign o' the enemy down yar a 
 piece," he said. 
 
 " Some sign ? What like ? Where ?" demanded 
 Ballanche. 
 
 " They air jist over yar on the marsh. I counted 
 nigh onter two hundred of 'em jes' at daylight this 
 mornin'." 
 
 " But how far from here ?"
 
 244 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " Ez the crow flies, hit air three miles mebbe to 
 whar' they 's as thick ez birds in er pea-fiel'." 
 
 " Three miles ! In what direction ?" 
 
 Peevy jerked his thumb backward over his 
 shoulder to indicate the point. 
 
 " And are they moving ?" 
 
 "They moved las' night some." 
 
 " Which way ? Up the bayou ?" 
 
 " No, jes' er foolin' eround like. Some of 'em war 
 down yar ter this yar house below yar." 
 
 " What house ?" 
 
 " My house do you mean ?" 
 
 Mr. Vernon and the lieutenant spoke together, 
 both of them leaning forward as if about to throttle 
 Peevy, whose dry, withered countenance did not 
 change its expression. 
 
 " What did they do ?" stormed forth Mr. Vernon 
 right in the man's face. 
 
 " Cut up Jack, they did ; kinder cleaned out the 
 place, weeming folks an' all the likes. Lef nothin' 
 thar' 'cepting a lot o' scared niggers an' er couple o' 
 lame mules." 
 
 Mr. Vernon did not wait to hear more, but drove 
 his spurs into his horse. The nervous animal rushed 
 away like a bolt from some powerful engine, tum- 
 bling Peevy flat on his back in the road. 
 
 " Golly mussy ! Land o' Canaan ! Better jes' 
 onj'nt a feller's mortal frame an' tangle 'is bone 
 etarnally !" cried the surprised scout, scrambling to 
 liis feet and examining his gun to see if it was 
 injured. "Guess Mary Ann air not hurt air ye, 
 Mary Ann ?" He patted the long, heavy weapon
 
 DE80LATIONT 245 
 
 as he spoke to it. " Ef Mary Ann air all right, it 
 don't mek' no difference 'bout me." 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche was, first of all, a good 
 soldier, and although Peevy's communication had 
 sent horror through his soul he kept his head. 
 
 The detachment headed by a sergeant reached 
 the spot at this moment, and he ordered a halt 
 while he hastily plied the scout with a few more 
 questions. 
 
 " Do ) T ou mean the house right ahead on this 
 road, two miles from here ?" he demanded. 
 
 Peevy was busily wiping some dirt from Mary 
 Ann's barrel and stock. Without looking up, he 
 answered : 
 
 " Thet's jes' w'at I said ter ye." 
 
 The lieutenant motioned the troop to follow him, 
 and set off almost as rapidly as Mr. Vernon had ; 
 but the scout took care to keep out of the way this 
 time and stood looking after the riders till they 
 passed out of sight. 
 
 " Well of all etarnal fools them's the beatenest 'at 
 I ever seed !" he exclaimed, still rubbing Mary 
 Ann. " Ef they don't watch out, them air British- 
 ers '11 twist thar necks for 'em 'fore they know w'at's 
 happened. W'y they mek's more noise 'an er Penn- 
 sylvany wagon on er rocky road. Hum ! Well, 
 Mary Ann, we'll look eroun' er leetle bit more." 
 
 He shouldered his rifle after repriming it and 
 trudged away through the woods. 
 
 Mr. Vernon urged his horse on without one thought 
 of what danger he might be speeding to. His whole 
 life was centered in his wife and daughter. It was
 
 246 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 for them that all his wealth had been hoarded, all 
 his plans laid, all his schemes wrought out. For 
 years he had dealt with the mysterious Pierre Ram- 
 eau, not personally and directly, but through an 
 intermediate agent, and in the meantime had formed 
 a close friendship for Colonel Loring, whose vast 
 operations in Mexican mines he had shared, furnish- 
 ing a large amount of money and receiving good 
 returns upon the investments. Lately the truth had 
 been coming into his mind and he now knew there 
 was no Colonel Loring, no Mexican mines and no in- 
 vestments at all upon which his receipts had osten- 
 sibly been based. In fact it appeared that Pierre 
 Rameau had been all this time deceiving him and 
 roistering in gaming-houses and other places of in- 
 iquity at his expense, simply paying him interest on 
 the amounts squandered. He now saw to what 
 his years of illegal operations had brought him, and 
 he reviewed with a sickening at heart the whole dark, 
 hidden life that he had been living ; but what was 
 all this to another thought which since his several 
 interviews with old man Burns had shaped itself to 
 such proportions, that now it filled the whole vault 
 of consciousness as with a nebulous horror ? This 
 Colonel Loring, this mysterious Pierre Rameau, this 
 man whom all the world of the southwest knew of 
 and trembled at but had never been able to see, had 
 suddenly become to him the embodiment of con- 
 science and retribution. 
 
 And what was to be the end ? Mr. Vernon heard 
 this question echoing about in his inmost heart 
 where he kept his wife and daughter shrined ?
 
 DESOLATION. 247 
 
 What was to be the end ? Would they soon know 
 what he knew ? Must his whole past life be un- 
 masked to them ? 
 
 But they ? They were in danger this moment ! 
 In danger ! Had not the scout said that they were 
 carried away by a British detachment ? He could 
 not realize the situation ; nothing came to his mind 
 with distinctness, so blurring was the cloud of his 
 distress. 
 
 Ballanche and his men followed Mr. Vernon as 
 fast as they could ride ; but did not overtake him 
 till the plantation was reached. There they found 
 it just as Peevyhad said. The house was empty 
 and silent. A body of the enemy had been there, 
 both horse and foot, as they could see by the prints 
 in the sandy soil all around. Most of the negroes 
 were hiding in the swamp or in the tall grass of the 
 salt marsh to the eastward. 
 
 Mr. Vernon leaped from his horse and ran into 
 the building ; but there was nothing to greet him 
 save the sound of his own heavy footfalls. 
 
 When Lieutenant Ballanche came up, he too 
 rushed into the house and gazed eagerly around as 
 he hastened from room to room. 
 
 An old negro woman was found hiding in a corner 
 of the kitchen pantry, whither she had run on hear- 
 ing their approach. From her they managed to get 
 a pretty complete account of what had happened. 
 It was, in substance, the same story as that told by 
 Enos Peevy. The ladies, including little Lizettes 
 Lapin, had been carried away by a band of soldierf 
 The poor old soul was still so frightened that her
 
 248 THE KING OP HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 eyes rolled white and wild, and she stammered so 
 that she could hardly speak. 
 
 The rain was still drizzling, blown along by a 
 wind from Borgne and the marshes. In every 
 direction, gray and dim, the country stretched out, 
 with not a moving thing in sight save the tossing 
 tree-tops, the waving horse-tail grass and the water- 
 fowl beating along the shore-lines of bayou and 
 lake. It was a landscape which might have well 
 served the artist of loneliness. 
 
 Mr. Vernon and Lieutenant Ballanche went out 
 of that desolate house and remounted their horses. 
 There was nothing left for them to do but to go 
 back to their duty in the army of Jackson. 
 
 It was just as they passed through the gate of the 
 close that a shot rang out sharp and short down in 
 the woods beyond the road. 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche was all attention at once ; 
 he ordered his men to fall into line. Another shot, 
 and then a scattering sputter of musketry followed. 
 A moment later, Enos Peevy skulked into view 
 among the moss-draped trees some hundred yards 
 away. He was stooping low, trailing his long rifle 
 and running rapidly toward them. 
 
 Ballanche understood the situation at a glance, 
 and formed his men in open order behind the fence 
 that flanked the road on one side. 
 
 Peevy soon came up and stopped behind a tree to 
 ram home a bullet in his gun. They saw him 
 unstop the power horn with his teeth and carefully 
 fill the priming-pan. Ballanche rode close to him 
 and spoke in a low tone :
 
 DESOLATION. 249 
 
 " Where are they, Peevy ?" 
 
 " Don't ye see 'em yonder ?" 
 
 " How many ?" 
 
 " Twenty, mebbe." 
 
 English uniforms glimmered between the trees 
 in the direction of the bayou. 
 
 " I plugged one o' 'em," Peevy added, " an' ef 
 ye '11 watch ye '11 see me flummix another 'n' purty 
 quick." 
 
 " Don't shoot !" ordered the lieutenant. " Come 
 back here with me. Let them come on." 
 
 The scout obeyed with bad grace, for he deemed 
 it a shame not to shoot when an enemy offered a 
 fair mark. 
 
 He walked beside the lieutenant's horse and kept 
 his keen eyes turned back to scan the movements 
 of the scattered line of redcoats. 
 
 It was evident to Ballanche that if his little 
 detachment remained but a few moments longer 
 where it now was, its way to New Orleans would be 
 cut off. He ordered Peevy to mount behind him, a 
 thing which the scout was very much opposed to. 
 
 " I feels better an' safer enter my feet," he urged, 
 " an' 'en, besides, them air silk-stocking fellers can't 
 ketch me, nohow." 
 
 But the lieutenant made his order peremptory, 
 and the lean, skinny rifleman effected the mount 
 from the fence-top. 
 
 In the shortest possible time the little band was 
 in motion, going at a brisk pace along the road. 
 But the enemy had seen them, and already the thin 
 red line over-lapped the way.
 
 250 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND, 
 
 There was nothing to do but to make a dash. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was at the lieutenant's side when the 
 order was given. Down they rode together, Peevy 
 sticking on as best he could, grasping the saddle 
 with one hand and swinging Mary Ann free in the 
 other. 
 
 A rattling volley and a chorus of shouts greeted 
 them as they got well under way, and the bullets 
 whistled about their ears. 
 
 Mr. Vernon's horse was the fleetest of all, and so 
 he at once became their leader. He dashed upon 
 and almost over a group of three red-coats in the 
 middle of the road. One of them, after firing unsuc- 
 cessfully at him, seized his horse's bridle and was 
 dragged down for his pains. 
 
 Ballanche, encumbered with the scout, was not so 
 successful ; Mr. Vernon looked back and saw him 
 trying to use his sword, while his horse was rearing 
 and plunging. Wheeling about and drawing a long, 
 heavy knife, his only weapon besides his holsters, 
 he dashed to the young officer's rescue. 
 
 " Punch 'is etarnal eye out !" Peevy was screech- 
 ing. " Whack 'im on the nose ! Jag 'im inter the 
 ribs !" 
 
 One of the English, a stalwart fellow, who was 
 unaware of Mr. Vernon's approach, turned just in 
 time to have his neck almost severed by a slash of 
 that terrible Southern knife. And just then the 
 rest of the little detachment reached the spot and 
 all broke through together without the loss of a 
 man. 
 
 " Golly mussy !" cried Peevy. " This yar's no
 
 DESOLATION. 251 
 
 decent way o' fightin'! I can't do nothtn' wi' Mary 
 Ann an' hoi' on ter this yar kickin' an* callyvortin* 
 annymil at the same time ! Blame sich etarnal fool- 
 ishness I Le' 's go back an' try 'em over ag'ia a- 
 stan'in' onter the solid yarth." 
 
 But Lieutenant Ballanche gave no heed to his 
 grumbling. He knew that Jackson's army was 
 moving and that his place was in the van. His mil- 
 itary experience told him that the English detach- 
 ment through which they had broken was a party of 
 reconnaisance and that the enemy's army was mov- 
 ing up the bayou in force. 
 
 " Ye can't shoot off'n a hoss nohow," Peevy con- 
 tinued to snarl. " How kin ye squint through the 
 sights on er gun bar'l, when the annymil air a 
 hi'kin' ye up an' er drappin' ye down an' er jigglin' 
 ye ever so which way, I'd like ter know ? They's 
 jes' not er bit o' sense in the whole business ! Ef 
 I'd er been onto my legs, 'stid er flummixin' eround 
 on this yar eternal annymil, I'd a got erbout four o j 
 them air fellers shore es Mary Ann hedn't er 
 snapped !" 
 
 When they reached New Orleans, Jackson was 
 massing most of his available forces at a point some 
 miles down the river, and all was excitement in the 
 streets. 
 
 Mr. Vernon met Fairfax on a corner of Royal 
 Street, and without a moment's hesitation told him 
 the terrible news of the fate that had befallen Mrs. 
 Vernon, Pauline and Mademoiselle de Sezannes. 
 It was like a blow in the face to the young man ; 
 he actually staggered back as if hard hit.
 
 252 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " Gone ! Taken away ! Pauline in the hands of 
 those brutal soldiers !" he faltered forth, gazing 
 half doubtingly, half wildly at Mr. Vernon. " It 
 can't be true ! It isn't so, is it ? Oh, sir, you are 
 not in earnest !" 
 
 But he knew by the old man's look that it was all 
 true. 
 
 " Yes, they are gone gone," said Mr. Vernon, 
 " and the English army lies between us and them !" 
 
 Fairfax was as pale as if dead, and his dry lips 
 would not move when he tried to speak. In that 
 moment of intense concentration of feeling he 
 reviewed every happy hour that he had ever spent 
 with Pauline and recalled every sweet word that 
 she had ever spoken to him. It seemed as if by 
 some sudden movement she had passed from him 
 just now, away to the farthest bounds of the world. 
 
 " Vernon," he cried, giving way for a brief space 
 to a burst of grief boyish in its intensity, " what can 
 be done ?" 
 
 Mr. Vernon looked at him very calmly and said : 
 
 " There is fighting to be done." 
 
 " But what what will become what will those 
 brutes do in the meantime ? Are you sure, Mr. 
 Vernon, that they were not there, hidden somewhere 
 or " 
 
 " Calm yourself," said the old man, interrupting 
 his passionate, almost incoherent words. " It is as 
 I say. There is no hope but in fighting." 
 
 Fairfax felt a chill like death creep throughout 
 his body, numbing and dazing him. There was 
 nothing to say. He groaned as one does who is not
 
 RECOGNITION BY FIRE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 253 
 
 conscious of anything save an unbearable agony of 
 soul. 
 
 Mr. Vernon laid a heavy hand on the young man's 
 shoulder, and they stood in silence, while the 
 excited people went past them to and fro. The rain 
 had ceased and the western sun flashed out fitfully 
 between scudding clouds. 
 
 " Where were you going ?" Mr. Vernon presently 
 asked. 
 
 " To General Jackson's headquarters," he an- 
 swered. "The aruiy is moving." 
 
 " We will go together." 
 
 And arm in arm they went. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 RECOGNITION BY FIRE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the 23d of December, 1814, 
 Lieutenant Ballanche and Mr. Vernon were not the 
 only friends of the American cause who had seen 
 the British soldiery feeling their way toward New 
 Orleans. Major Gabriel Villere, by a most daring 
 dash, had escaped from the enemy after they had 
 captured him at his father's plantation-house. He 
 brought news which, added to what the scout and 
 Ballanche reported, confirmed Jackson in the belief 
 that a large army was, indeed, immediately before 
 him.
 
 254r THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 All was hurry and excitement. Orders had been 
 sent to the officers of the various little divisions of 
 the army to move their forces at once down the east 
 bank of the river and take position in the vicinity of 
 the Rodrigues Canal, a small flume or ditch stretch- 
 ing from the river to the swamp, an hour's ride below 
 the city. 
 
 General Jackson, swarthy and bilious, rode out to 
 Fort St. Charles to review the moving troops. Mr. 
 Vernon joined him there and watched, grim and 
 silent, while his own dusky riflemen filed past, their 
 picturesque equipments and vivacious features show- 
 ing in marked contrast to the stalwart Tennesseean 
 backwoodsmen's copperas clothes and lean, unkempt 
 faces. The reckless forbans flung up their chapeaux 
 with jaunty grace and .saluted the general with loud 
 cheering, and then, catching sight of Mr. Vernon, 
 they took up his name and redoubled the shout. The 
 old man lifted his hat, and they saw a flash of battle 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " By the Eternal," exclaimed Jackson, " we will 
 make those redcoats feel us before morning ! Mr. 
 Vernon, your men look like bad fellows to face in a 
 fight. I'd risk my head on them, sir risk my 
 head !" 
 
 "You shall not be deceived in them," said Mr. 
 Vernon, preparing to join them in their march. 
 " They will do whatever I tell them to." 
 
 " Then tell them, sir, to make mincemeat of those 
 infernal invaders !" 
 
 Mr. Vernon extended his hand, and Jackson 
 .grasped it with hearty good-will.
 
 "RECOGNITION BY FIRE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 255 
 
 Near by, on a. tall, gray horse, sat that strange 
 genius, Edward Livingston, looking on with keen 
 interest. He was Jackson's other self, his untiring 
 and all-seeing friend and counselor. It was he who 
 said to the commander, as Mr. Vernon rode away : 
 
 " There goes the king of all the outlaws, the mas- 
 ter of the Barratarians, the Chats-Huants and the 
 pirates of Honey Island. But for him they would 
 have all been against us." 
 
 " King or devil," said Jackson, following with his 
 eyes the grand figure of the old man as he galloped 
 along the marching column to its head, "he is 
 superb. He is magnetic. He fascinates me. There 
 is something great in him." 
 
 Livingston smiled thoughtfully ; for he himself 
 was a friend of Lafittes and the defender of the free- 
 booters. He had had great trouble at first getting 
 Jackson's consent to permit any of them to join the 
 army ; but what was his influence, or even that of 
 Lafitte, in comparison with Mr. Vernon's ? He 
 knew far more than he dared to tell the general ; 
 but at this moment of enthusiasm he could not for- 
 bear remarking, as Dacquin's colored men and 
 Dominique's clouted smugglers from the water- 
 huts of Barrataria went dashing by : 
 
 " I told you this, general. Set devils to fight the 
 devil." 
 
 " But that man Vernon is a gentleman, sir !" 
 exclaimed Jackson impetuously, " he's no pirate !" 
 
 " Oh, of course not. You are right," replied the 
 diplomatic Livingston, whose memory held on its 
 leaves the inscriptions of Burr and Rameau and all
 
 256 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 the other great criminals who had made New 
 Orleans their home or their calling-point. " You 
 read men like print, general." 
 
 Somehow, flattery, no matter how bald and ob- 
 vious, was welcome to Jackson when it came from 
 the lips of this brilliant and engaging citizen whom 
 he had attached to his staff. 
 
 Fairfax had been assigned to duty with General 
 Coffee, and was already far on the way to the Rod- 
 rigues Canal. 
 
 When all the troop had passed, Jackson turned to 
 Davezac, another of his citizen aids, and said, while 
 his sunken, jaundiced face glowed with almost 
 startling passion : 
 
 " We are invincible, sir, absolutely invincible ! 
 We will drive those redcoats into the gulf !" 
 
 And now he signaled to all the group and said : 
 
 " Come on ! Come on ! We will smash them !" 
 
 Away they went at a gallop, following the well- 
 beaten road taken by the troops. 
 
 Mr. Vernon reached the neighborhood of the Vil- 
 Ier6 plantation before sundown, and by the time 
 that General Jackson and his staff had arrived, he 
 had formed a plan for a reconnaissance of the 
 enemy's lines ; a plan which, when presented to the 
 commander, was accepted at once. He was allowed 
 to choose fifty mounted men, some of them well 
 acquainted with the country, and make a bold ride 
 right down through the British pickets. 
 
 He was successful ; and what he did had in it a 
 fine smack of the old time and the knightly. The 
 invaders had flung out a weak line of pickets, and
 
 RECOGNITION BY FIRE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 257 
 
 upon one of these the horsemen cast themselves at 
 headlong speed. Close by Mr. Vernon's side rode 
 Vasseur, mounted on a wiry little Creole pony. 
 There, too, young Louis Livingston, son of Edward ? 
 smooth-faced and boyish, dashed along eager for the 
 most dangerous adventure. 
 
 It was growing dark, and a thin fog was creeping 
 across from the marshes of Borgne ; the lights of the 
 British camp-fires flared and flickered in a zigzag 
 line from the river on the west to the dark swamp 
 on the east. Mr. Vernon was familiar with every 
 feature of the country, and there was one with him 
 who knew just how to find the rustic bridges over 
 the ditches and how to avoid the many miry sloughs 
 wherein the horses would have stuck fast. So they 
 rode in a line which was a parabola, the longer part 
 of the curve skirting the swamp while the shorter 
 touched the river levee. 
 
 The pony was shot dead under Vasseur, but this 
 scarcely caused a pause in the rush. Mr. Vernon 
 stooped and swung the little man up behind him. 
 A little farther on, down went Louis Livingston's 
 horse. The nimble youth was taken care of by one 
 of his fellows in imitation of the leader. 
 
 At about the point where they reached the deep- 
 est swing of their charge they dashed almost over a 
 party of officers taking tea by a fire. Mr. Vernon 
 was still ahead of all the rest and Vasseur was cling- 
 ing to him like a leech. 
 
 The group of surprised and startled Englishmen 
 at the fire sprang up and reached wildly for their 
 arms ; but galloping over the soft, sandy soil the
 
 258 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 horses made scarcely any noise, and the riders 
 were upon them before they could prepare for 
 defense. One of them, however, was quick, cool 
 and ready. He leaped forward and fired a pistol 
 just after Mr. Vernon had passed. His aim was 
 deadly ; a young Creole threw up his hands and 
 tumbled from his saddle. 
 
 Vasseur clutched Mr. Vernon, and cried out : 
 
 " Pierre Rameau ! That was Pierre Rameau !" 
 
 There was a rush of charging men and a volley 
 of musketry from behind a tangle of low trees. 
 Bullets sang past, but not a horse or rider was hit. 
 The movement opened a view of the enemy's line 
 at this point and showed that it was strong. 
 
 " Did you see Pierre Rameau ? Did you see Col- 
 onel Loring ?" Vasseur kept repeating, from his seat 
 behind Mr. Vernon. 
 
 The old man made no answer to the questions ; 
 but they did not fail to reach his ears. He had 
 used his eyes with as much effect as had Vasseur 
 and had seen by the red flare of the fire the tall 
 form and perfectly calm face of Loring. 
 
 It was impossible to stop or turn back ; the fate 
 of Jackson's army, the fate of New Orleans might be 
 depending on the success of this reconnaissance. 
 
 Meantime General Jackson was perfecting his 
 line of battle and preparing for an advance upon 
 the enemy. Livingston was at his side all the time 
 and more than once remarked that when Mr. Ver- 
 non returned with his report the whole plan of 
 attack might have to be changed. They heard the 
 firing, and Jackson looked uneasy.
 
 RECOGNITION BY FIRE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 259 
 
 " Don't fear, general," said Livingston, " they will 
 not capture Vernon ; he knows what he's about I 
 assure you." 
 
 " Well, we shall have to wait till he gets back." 
 
 The wait was not long. Mr. Vernon with Vasseur 
 still clinging on at the crupper came straight to the 
 spot. Jackson, who at the time was not mounted, 
 leaned on the sweating neck of the old man's horse 
 and heard the story of what had been seen along the 
 British front. 
 
 " We must turn their right flank," Mr. Vernon 
 added, after giving a rapid report. " We must drive 
 them toward the river." 
 
 " Zat Pierre Rameau, zat Colonel Loring vat pull 
 yo' nose, he is over zare, mo'sieu le general !" cried 
 Vasseur, jumping nimbly and lightly to the ground. 
 " I see 'eem zare, zat colonel, yah, sare !" 
 
 He skipped around like a jay, his gesticulations 
 coming in the proportion of about three to a 
 word. 
 
 "Yah, sare, 'ee pull yo' nose an' slap yo' an' zen 
 'ee go to ze Anglais an' shoot at us !" 
 
 He knew that Jackson could not understand 
 French ; therefore his effort to make himself plain 
 in English. 
 
 " Shut your mouth or I'll smash it !" was all the 
 notice that the general gave to him. 
 
 " Go to your place with Major Dacquin !" Mr. 
 Vernon ordered, and Vasseur went. 
 
 " We had been planning," said Jackson, " and your 
 suggestion is just what we were agreeing upon when 
 you arrived. Your men are just to the left of us
 
 260 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 here. When you hear the guns of the Carolina out 
 there in the river, march straight to the British 
 lines. General Coffee is on our extreme left. He 
 will turn the enemy's flank and drive them toward 
 the river. You know your men. You know what 
 to do when you find the redcoats. Blow 'em sky- 
 high, sir sky-high !" 
 
 Just before going to the place assigned to him, 
 Mr. Vernon stooped from his saddle and, speaking 
 low in General Jackson's ear, said : 
 
 " I am glad that you refused to have anything to 
 do with Colonel Loring. I was wrong in urging his 
 claim. You were right in your estimate." 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Jackson, with vigorous prompt- 
 ness, " he's an infernal villain, a scoundrel and a 
 traitor cut-throat ! I'm amazed that you But 
 let's talk no more. Go at the enemy and give them 
 the devil ! Remember the signal the guns of the 
 Carolina. Good luck, sir." 
 
 It was a ghostly night. The moon had risen, but 
 it could not shine through the fog that momentarily 
 thickened after the sun went down. Some trouble 
 was had in forming the line, owing to the awkward- 
 ness and nervousness of the undisciplined troops ; 
 and this battle turned out to be, as every one knows, 
 a wild confusion of hand-to-hand combats between 
 straggling bands of both armies. 
 
 A signal-shot and then a whole broadside from the 
 Carolina set the little, ill-formed line into motion 
 just as a flight of flaming rockets lit up the whole 
 British front. 
 
 Mr. Vernon had reported the ground as quite
 
 RECOGNITION BY FIRE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 261 
 
 unfavorable to cavalry operations, and so all the 
 riders were dismounted. Even the officers set out 
 upon that strange night-attack on foot, plashing 
 through the mire and tumbling waist-deep into 
 ditches, leading their men amid the darkness and 
 fog, often utterly ignorant of the points of direction 
 and unable to distinguish friend from foe. It was 
 an enthusiastic, harum-scarum rush from the outset, 
 each little division anxious to be the first to fire at 
 the enemy. 
 
 General Coffee took Fairfax near him, and soon 
 saw that he had made no mistake in doing it. If 
 ever a man is a good soldier, it is when there is an. 
 object for him behind the enemy's lines. We are 
 all selfish to this degree : the personal appeal is the 
 strongest appeal. It was as lover bereft of his sweet- 
 heart more than as patriot risking all for his country 
 that Fairfax rode on through the fog along the skirt 
 of that awful swamp and into the first strong out- 
 post of the British line. 
 
 General Coffee was almost a giant in stature and 
 as brave and daring as a lion. He and Fairfax were 
 side by side when they approached the enemy near 
 the house of General Villere. Here were some or- 
 chards of orange trees and some clusters of negro- 
 huts inclosed by board fences. The firing began in 
 a scattering line that zigzagged from the edge of 
 the swamp across to the levee at the river, and was 
 traceable only by the spurts of flame from musket 
 and rifle and by the broad flashes from some field- 
 guns that had been trundled along apace with the 
 infantry.
 
 2f)2 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 So soon as Coffee felt that he had passed the Brit- 
 ish right flank, he wheeled to the right and charged 
 toward the river, carrying everything before him, 
 until he reached a piece of levee behind which the 
 enemy had formed in strong force. Here he called 
 a halt and fell back a space, as he found the position 
 too well taken for him to risk attempting to storm it. 
 
 " Hurry to General Jackson and bring me his 
 orders," he said to Fairfax ; and he gave the same 
 order to two other temporary aids, each of which 
 was told to take a different direction from that 
 pointed out to Fairfax ; for, in the darkness and 
 fog, no one was sure of the compass. 
 
 Thinking of Pauline, the lover stumbled away on 
 his mission, trying his best to keep the course indi- 
 cated by the general. Deprived for the time of the 
 light of his companion's guns, as he ran everything 
 seemed to come into his way. He bumped against 
 trees, fell over fragments of fences, stepped into 
 oozy ditches, struggled through prickly clumps of 
 bushes and tore his clothes on the brush of fallen 
 tree-tops. 
 
 A sword, and it a clumsy affair, was now his only 
 weapon. This he carried naked in his hand, having 
 thrown away the belt and scabbard because they 
 hindered him. 
 
 It seemed to him that there was firing in every 
 direction, north, south, east and west. Field-pieces 
 here, musketry yonder, the heavy thunder of the 
 vessel's guns to his left-oblique, and all around the 
 keen " pang, pang," of the well-known woodsmen's 
 rifles.
 
 RECOGNITION BY FIKE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 263 
 
 He pushed on as best he could, guessing his 
 direction by what he knew of the position of the 
 Caroline and of the probable whereabouts of Jackson 
 in reference thereto, and, before long, he found 
 himself in a focus of converging bullets. The mis- 
 siles swarmed past him like fretful bees. Then 
 there was a rush with loud yelling, and he was in 
 the midst of a rough-and-tumble fight, where guns 
 were clubbed, knives flashed and swords clinked 
 savagely. He tried to fall in with his friends and 
 take part in their behalf, but the struggle shifted 
 the combatants so suddenly that before he could do 
 anything he was surrounded by men wearing the 
 uniform of the enemy. This he quickly noted by 
 the flash of a rocket which fell, still burning, not 
 far away. 
 
 Luckily, none of the excited and rushing British 
 soldiers appeared to recognize his uniform. He 
 was hastening to reach the cover of a hedge of 
 bushes growing in an ill-kept fence-row, and had 
 nearly reached it, when a tall man faced him and 
 called out : 
 
 " Halt ! Where do you belong ?" 
 
 In the darkness, Fairfax, of course, could not 
 make out the challenger's features ; but the voice 
 had a familiar sound, though his memory of it was 
 not at the moment certain. He knew that he must 
 answer instantly, and he did. 
 
 " I am Fairfax, of General Coffee's staff," said he. 
 
 " Then surrender !" came the short, stern com- 
 mand. 
 
 Fairfax responded with a sword-stroke as he leaped
 
 264: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 toward his would-be captor. He was deceived by 
 the fog and the night's blackness, and so missed his 
 point and his blade cut only the air. This threw 
 him around just in time to disconcert the other's 
 aim, which else had been deadly. 
 
 The flash and report of a pistol came together on 
 the moment. By that instantaneous glare Fairfax 
 saw the dark, cool face of his antagonist. 
 
 It was the face of Pierre Rameau, the face of Col- 
 onel Loring, who was replacing his pistol in his belt 
 and drawing his sword. 
 
 The two men went toward each other ; the thought 
 of capture or surrender was vanished ; for recogni- 
 tion had been mutual, and both felt a deadly hatred 
 taking the place of mere soldierly animosity. 
 
 It would have gone ill with Fairfax, skillful fencer 
 though he was, it the combat had been permitted to 
 pass on to the end ; but their swords never crossed. 
 A heavy cannot-shot struck the ground between 
 them and buried itself. Loring sprang away, think- 
 ing it a shell that would explode. 
 
 Fairfax took advantage of the moment and jumped 
 through the line of weeds and bushes. It was not a 
 heroic way of escaping from an unequal fight ; but 
 he did not think of this. Like a flash it had come 
 into his mind that the fate of the American army 
 might depend upon his finding General Jackson. 
 The fall of the cannon-shot had reminded him that 
 he was in a battle, not in a personal conflict. 
 
 On he ran till at last he came to some of Major 
 Planch6's men whom he knew. They had a torch 
 and were working heroically to assist a party of
 
 RECOGNITION BY FIRE-LIGHT AND GUN-FLASH. 
 
 artillerymen in getting a gun out of a little bog 
 where its wheels had mired. 
 
 Just then General Jackson himself came up and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " By the Eternal, men, save that gun !" 
 
 Fairfax leaped into the mud and set his shoulder 
 into the strain. It was as if Jackson's appeal had 
 given new strength to all. Out came the gun, and 
 was soon again in working order. 
 
 The gun was quickly wheeled into position and 
 began bellowing away, its balls bumping and thump- 
 ing and crashing among some negro cabins not far 
 off. 
 
 A party of the enemy, guided by the flash, ran up 
 to within short musket range and fired a heavy 
 volley. The gunner fell dead. 
 
 " Stand by that cannon, men ! Stand firm ! Give 
 it to 'em !" stormed Jackson. 
 
 Fairfax sprang to the piece and took the dead 
 gunner's place. 
 
 Then came another and heavier volley. A bullet 
 hit him hard in the breast, but he fired the gun, 
 now loaded to the muzzle with grape. It was a 
 destructive shot. By merest chance, the storm of 
 missiles went straight to the light board-fence 
 behind which the British were massed and swept 
 them away almost to a man. 
 
 In the space of silence that followed, Fairfax 
 reeled, groaned and fell across the gun.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A TENDER NURSE. 
 
 Fairfax returned to consciousness after twelve 
 hours of insensibility, and found himself in a beau- 
 tifully furnished bedroom. There were bandages 
 around his body, and his head was deep-sunk in a 
 luxurious pillow. Around the pale-blue tester on 
 the tall, heavily carved bed-posts clung a festoon of 
 the most delicate and costly lace. The linen that 
 covered him was fine, soft, fragrant, and on the 
 walls of the chamber hung tapestries from ceiling 
 to floor. A mahogany dressing-case, tall, slender, 
 dark, with attenuated carved legs and claw-feet, 
 stood across one corner, and opposite to it a narrow 
 cheval glass, framed in gold, was flanked by curi- 
 ous dog-eared vases filled with roses. 
 
 The windows of the room were large and cut into 
 minute square panes by heavy oak mullions that 
 showed darkly through the close folds of the lace 
 curtains. A beautiful old picture of Mary and the 
 Christ child hung low at the foot of the bed, and 
 close to the painting stood a quaint little blue cush- 
 [266]
 
 A TENDER NURSE, 267 
 
 ioned priectieu, upon which lay a crucifix of ivory 
 and gold. 
 
 On the dressing-case were various things sugges- 
 tive of feminine needs and tastes a gold thimble, a 
 brass jewel-case finely decorated and surmounted 
 by a sleeping Pan, a curious tortoise-shell comb, 
 a fan of ebony and heron-plumes, a pair of wee 
 gloves and a silver tray full of gay floss, scraps of 
 embroidery silk and a pair of scissors. 
 
 The instant that Fairfax moved, a small, hump- 
 backed man Crapaud Crapoussin, in fact arose 
 from a low chair and slipped noiselessly out of the 
 room. In a moment, he returned, following a 
 Petite brunette, whose face was saintly in its beauty. 
 She was young, delicate, graceful, and the dead- 
 black of her dress contrasted strangely with the 
 soft, rose-like underglow of her cheeks and the 
 bright flush of her ruby lips. Her hair, black and 
 wavy, was simply done in a Greek knot, and it 
 crinkled with charming effect around her low fore- 
 head. 
 
 She came straightway to the young man's bedside 
 and stood there, looking down into his face, a rare 
 smile on her half-parting lips, her head bent a little, 
 and her dark eyes beaming softly with tender 
 inquiry. 
 
 Crapaud slunk down again into his chair with a 
 peculiar celerity and resumed reading a French 
 novel bound in black leather. He had been a 
 great admirer of Fairfax ever since the night when 
 the young man rescued him from his burly antagon- 
 ist in the street, and it was he who had asked the
 
 268 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 privilege of bringing Fairfax to New Orleans when 
 it was found that he was badly wounded. Crapaud 
 had volunteered as a soldier in Planche's battalion 
 and had fought like a demon in the battle of the 23d. 
 Dwarf though he was, he could shoot well, and he 
 was as courageous as Jackson himself. 
 
 " Oh, you are awake ! You have slept so well !" 
 said the young woman, smoothing the snowy bed- 
 clothes as she spoke. 
 
 On her tiny hands were rubies and emeralds and 
 diamonds ; at her throat an enormous pearl shim- 
 mered all alone. 
 
 " You feel refreshed, don't you ? Ah, to be sure 
 you do ; and you are hungry. I will give you some- 
 thing good. " 
 
 Her voice was so tender, so sweet, so soothing. It 
 was the voice of a French creole speaking good 
 English, but with an indescribable sub-accent en- 
 gaging as it was strange and soft. 
 
 Fairfax looked steadily at her, but for a while did 
 not speak. 
 
 *' Some soup with a little brandy," she went on to 
 say ; " that will be nice for you. Go, Monsieur 
 Crapoussin, and tell Felice to bring it." 
 
 Crapaud slipped away through the door in noise- 
 less haste. 
 
 "You are so kind, mademoiselle," Fairfax pres- 
 ently found tongue to say, " so very good. Where 
 am I ? What is the matter with me ?" 
 
 He was half beginning to remember the battle. 
 
 " Sh-h-h !" she exclaimed. " You must not speak; 
 the doctor said so, and he knows. I will talk for
 
 A TENDER NTJRSB. 269 
 
 both of us. You are not so badly hurt ; you just 
 need to keep quiet for a few days, and then you'll 
 be all right, the doctor says. Sh-h-h ! Don't try to 
 speak." 
 
 The tapering, perfectly modeled finger that she 
 touched her lip with had on it a superb sapphire. 
 
 Crapaud came in after a while, followed by a ser- 
 vant with a tray, on which steamed a bowl of broth 
 beside a small bottle of brandy. 
 
 Fairfax could not move ; indeed, he felt no incli- 
 nation to ; nor was he yet quite aware of what had 
 happened to him. The young woman fed a few 
 spoonfuls of the warm liquid and prattled to him the 
 while. Crapaud was deep into the book again. 
 
 " The surgeon says your wound is really not a bad 
 one," said she ; " the ball only tore the muscles a 
 little and did not touch your lung. But you must 
 not speak to-day." 
 
 When she had given him enough to eat, she sent 
 the servant out with the tray and sat down beside 
 him. 
 
 " The general says that you fired the gun that 
 turned the tide of the fight. Isn't it glorious to be 
 wounded when that is said about you ? No, no ; 
 don't try to answer. I'm to do the talking. I'm so 
 proud to have you in my house and to have the 
 honor of nursing you. I wish I were a man ! Oh, 
 how I would fight !" 
 
 Fairfax remembered everything now. The cir- 
 cumstances of the past few days came back to him 
 all at once, and with a cold shiver he thought of
 
 270 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Pauline, a prisoner in the British camp. He closed 
 his eyes and groaned. 
 
 " There, now, don't. You must bear up and be 
 strong," spoke up the sweet-voiced little lady, rising 
 and bending over him. She laid a cool, soft hand 
 on his forehead and smoothed back the tumbled, 
 brown hair. The touch was electrical and soothing. 
 " You are my patient, and I am to make you well," 
 she continued. "The doctor has gone down to the 
 army ; all the men who are not too old are gone ; 
 we women have to take care of the city and the 
 wounded ; we are making clothes for the men, mak- 
 ing bandages, cooking food and sending it down to 
 them. They are brave, brave men and will never 
 let those English come here." 
 
 She stroked his temples and forehead until he 
 dropped asleep again. For a good while she stood 
 gazing at his pale, handsome, half-boyish face, then 
 turning to Crapaud, said : 
 
 " Watch him all the time, and if he needs me come 
 for me." 
 
 As she turned to go out of the room she paused 
 before the cheval glass and looked into it over her 
 shoulder. It was a quick, bird-like, comprehensive 
 glance. She smiled, gave a little satisfied sigh, 
 turned her eyes once more to the bed and, shaking 
 her jeweled finger at Crapaud to signify that he 
 must be watchful, went out, 
 
 Crapaud read on and on, now and again looking 
 up when Fairfax drew a deeper breath than usual. 
 The novel was one of mystery and adventure that 
 stirred the hunchback's blood and set his imagina-
 
 A TENDER NURSE. 271 
 
 tion into ecstasy. When it was read he flung it on 
 the cushion of \\iQpriedieu where it lay an hour later 
 when the young woman returned. 
 
 She noticed it immediately and snatched it off 
 with a chirruping cry of disapproval. 
 
 " A romance there !" she exclaimed, with the 
 peculiar rising inflection of the upper-class Creoles. 
 " Why did you put it there ? A novel on my cruci- 
 fix and the Holy Mother looking down !" 
 
 Her little flurry disturbed Fairfax. 
 
 " Sh-sh-h-h !" she hissed at Crapaud, who had 
 not so much as breathed aloud. " You'll wake 
 him !" 
 
 The book was placed on the dressing-case ; then 
 she went to the bed and bent over the sleeper just 
 as he opened his eyes. 
 
 ' Pauline," he murmured, gazing wistfully, " Paul- 
 ine, where are you ?" 
 
 " There, now, be still," she said coaxingly, strok- 
 ing his forehead until he again fell away into sleep. 
 
 " Crapaud," she presently spoke up, turning to 
 the dwarf with sudden inquiry, " that's his sister's 
 name, eh ? Pauline is his sister, isn't she ?" 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle " 
 
 " No say, ' madame,' sir, say ' madame ' to me !" 
 
 " Yes, madame, his sister, a beautiful young lady, 
 that Pauline." 
 
 Crapaud had no particular object in telling this 
 lie ; it came to him promptly, spontaneously, just 
 as his breath came and went forth and just as 
 lightly. 
 
 " And she loves him very much, doesn't she ?"
 
 272 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " Yes, madame, it is a beautiful love that sister 
 has for him, very beautiful." 
 
 " And he loves her the same ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, madame." 
 
 She clasped her little hands, keeping 1 outermost 
 the one bearing the richest jewels, and turning her 
 head to one side, looked admiringly at the wounded 
 man's face. 
 
 " Is she like her brother, Crapaud ?" 
 
 " Very like him, madame." 
 
 " How beautiful she must be, Crapaud, how very 
 beautiful !" 
 
 An underglow showed in her dark cheeks. 
 
 "What did you say his name is ?" 
 
 "Fairfax, madame." 
 
 " Ah, a fine name. I knew he was an American. 
 Is he a good Catholic, Crapaud ?" 
 
 " Oh, madame, the most devout that you ever 
 saw," lied Crapaud. 
 
 She gave the bed-coverings some dainty touches 
 and went out of the room, singing under her breath 
 a snatch of old French song. It was not a church 
 song. 
 
 The next day Fairfax was feverish and sleepless ; 
 his wound had inflamed a trifle. 
 
 "Crapaud," he inquired quickly, "who is this 
 young woman who is so good to me ?" 
 
 " It is Madame Souvestre, monsieur." 
 
 " This is her house ?" 
 
 " Yes. She is a widow. She is very rich." 
 
 " How came I here ?" 
 
 Crapaud told him all.
 
 A TENDER NURSE. 273 
 
 "But you must not talk, Monsieur Fairfax," he 
 added. " She forbids it" 
 
 " Tell me, Crapaud," the young man persisted, 
 paying no heed to the prohibitory command, " have 
 you heard anything from " 
 
 " The young lady Mademoiselle Vernon ? Oh, 
 yes ! I have heard. She's safe. She's at home. 
 She came back. Oh, yes !" 
 
 Of course, he was glibly lying again. He had 
 heard Fairfax talking in the half-delirium of his 
 sleep and had made out his secret. He thought it 
 would please him to be told that his sweetheart was 
 safe at home. 
 
 It seemed easier for Fairfax to converse in Eng- 
 lish, so Crapaud drew upon his limited vocabulary 
 in that language. 
 
 " Yah, sah, Mees Vernon she varee well at pray- 
 son, sah." 
 
 " When did you see her, Monsieur Crapoussin ?" 
 
 " Yeestidy, I see uh. I waint down zere w'en yo's 
 sleepiu', sah. She look varee pooty zes lak lak 
 lak a beauteous angel." 
 
 " Then she is not in the hands of the British ? 
 She is " 
 
 " Oh, no, monsieur ; she is at home. It was all a 
 meestake. The ladies came home. Oh, yes, mon- 
 sieur, they're all safe. I tole you zat paysantlee." 
 
 Fairfax smiled and slept again and murmured 
 brokenly. Crapaud put his ear close to the pallid 
 lips and caught every word. 
 
 The days went by, days of suspense and anguish 
 to the women of New Orleans. Those were women
 
 274 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 of fine courage, however, and they did not fold their 
 hands and cry. Madame Souvestre, in whose man- 
 sion Fairfax was receiving such tender nursing went 
 out every day to sew for the army. At the Living- 
 ston home was where most of this work was done ; at 
 least, so far as Madame Souvestre *s circle was con- 
 cerned, and there, from early morning until the din- 
 ner hour, a throng of ladies cut and stitched and 
 wrought with lively, if not happy, chatter, keeping 
 up a brave show of nerve and confidence, while their 
 husbands, fathers, brothers and lovers dug and 
 shoveled with pick and spade in the muddy sand, 
 building a line of breastworks from the river 
 near Chalmette across to the swamp. 
 
 Madame Souvestre was considered the most fav- 
 ored one of all her circle. To have a brave, young 
 soldier, wounded almost to death, as her special 
 charge, to care for in her own house, with her own 
 hands, seemed to all those noble-hearted and patri- 
 otic women the very highest possible honor. 
 
 " I am just as jealous of you as I can be," said 
 Mrs. Livingston, one day, after the sewing task was 
 over and the other ladies had gone away, " and I 
 think it's selfish of you, dear, not to allow me even 
 to see your brave young patient." 
 
 " But the doctor forbade it, you know, and said 
 that he must see no one no one must even speak to 
 him he must have absolute quiet. Yes, that was 
 just what he said, absolute quiet." 
 
 " You will be falling in love with him, Hortense," 
 Mrs. Livingston remarked, after a little further con- 
 versation had disclosed Madame Souvestre's enthusi-
 
 A TENDER NUBSE. 275 
 
 astic admiration of the young- man's personal 
 appearance, " and that will be romantic it will be 
 like a novel. What did you say is his name ?" 
 
 "Fairfax. It has a noble sound, hasn't it ? But, 
 no," with a little sigh, " there is no more romance 
 for me." 
 
 Madame Souvestre's husband had been killed in a 
 duel only a month after her marriage, two years 
 gone by. He was a noted swordsman ; but when 
 he met Colonel Loring under the dueling oaks, it 
 was Death that he fenced with, and he was run 
 through at the third pass. 
 
 " Forgive me, dear," cooed Mrs. Livingston, tak- 
 ing the petite form in her arms, " I am always say- 
 ing something foolish. You are too good and sweet 
 to be the victim of my teasing tongue." 
 
 She kissed her and then held her at arms'-length 
 to look lovingly at her. 
 
 " You are so beautiful, dear, that if I were a man, 
 I know I should steal you. I couldn't help it !" 
 
 Madame Souvestre laughed, half-blushing at her 
 friend's enthusiasm. She broke away and said : 
 
 " I must go back to him ; he needs a great deal of 
 care, that hero of mine." 
 
 Mrs. Livingston stood smiling by the door when 
 her friend was gone. 
 
 " She loves him already, the little warm-hearted 
 witch !" she mused, " and if he's even half a man, 
 he will love her. Heigh-ho ! I wish this war was 
 over !" 
 
 She clasped her hands, and the light faded out of 
 her face. It was so every evening after the ladies
 
 276 THE KING- OP HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 were all gone and the house had become silent. 
 She nearly always went to her dinner with a tear- 
 stained face and with feverish eyes. 
 
 Fairfax did not improve as rapidly as Madame 
 Souvestre had hoped for ; but he bore up bravely 
 enough and showed little sign of dangerous restless- 
 ness until the night of the yth of January, when 
 Crapaud Crapoussin went back to the army. 
 
 " They need me," the dwarf said, " and I want to 
 go. You can do without me for a few hours." 
 
 He smiled in his hideously affectionate way and 
 fondled the sick man's bloodless hand. 
 
 Madame Souvestre tried to persuade him not to 
 leave her ; but he could not be influenced. He had 
 received word that the battle would be on before 
 daylight of the following day, and his Creole blood 
 was hot with fight. 
 
 " I will be back to bring you the news of the vic- 
 tory before sunset to-morrow," he said, with queer 
 dramatic intonation. 
 
 Then he kissed the hand of Fairfax and was off. 
 
 Madame Souvestre cried a little and cast herself 
 upon the priedieu, with hands held forth beseechingly 
 to the Virgin. 
 
 Fairfax watched her as if through some sweet 
 mist of tenderness. The plump little figure, the 
 perfectly poised head, the softly rounded arms and 
 beautiful, tiny hands were but bewitching auxili- 
 aries to the pure, childlike, almost saintly face 
 upturned in prayer. 
 
 When she arose and came to his bedside, he felt 
 a deep comfort in her nearness to him.
 
 A TENDEE NUBSE. 277 
 
 " How good, how very good you are !" he mur- 
 mured. 
 
 Then he closed his eyes and thought of Pauline. 
 
 Madame Souvestre stroked his pale forehead 
 gently, slowly, her hands trembling with the 
 exquisite thrill that was in her nerves. He sank 
 into a soft slumber and dreamed that it was Pauline 
 who thus soothed away his pain. 
 
 Slowly the hours of the night drew by. Madame 
 Souvestre never left the bedside of the sleeping 
 man save to walk the floor in the soft lamplight or 
 to stand a moment before the glass and smile 
 approvingly at her own face. 
 
 It was a while before dawn when she clasped her 
 hands and bent over Fairfax to hear what he was 
 saying in his dream. 
 
 " Sweet and beautiful," he murmured low, " you 
 are so good, so pure, so true, so kind !" 
 
 She pressed one hand upon her heart. 
 
 " Oh, love ? You have taken away all my pain !" 
 he rambled on. 
 
 She started back, faltered, blushed, turned pale, 
 then stood looking down upon his strong yet some- 
 what wasted face with a gaze of tenderest, sweetest 
 import. The next moment she stooped and would 
 have kissed him nay, her lips did touch his, just as 
 an awful roar of cannon shook the air. 
 
 He opened his eyes and smiled as one coming" 
 slowly out of a delicious experience. 
 
 Then the guns roared again. 
 
 "What's that ?" he cried, trying to sit. up.
 
 278 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 She gently pushed him back on the pillow, and 
 said : 
 
 " They are killing those English down there. Be 
 calm. We shall hear good news this very day. So 
 so ; now, don't try to get up, please ; it will hurt 
 you. 
 
 And then the din of battle was like a thunder- 
 storm with wind and hail, and, looking out of the 
 window, Madame Souvestre saw the gray of day- 
 light. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 
 
 It was dark, foggy, dreary at Chalmette about the 
 first hour of the eighth day of January, 1815, and 
 the little army of the Americans lay in silence 
 behind the oozy breastworks just completed. Most 
 of the tired soldiers were asleep, their clothes all 
 wet and muddy and their hands blistered by the 
 friction of pick-helve, shovel-stave and spade-hilt. 
 For whole days and nights on half-rations, and 
 almost without sleep, they have delved in the ditches 
 aud on the embankments. Now they lay on their 
 arms. A few sentinels walked to and fro with slow, 
 weary tread. General Jackson and his staff were 
 asleep in a plantation-house not far in rear of the 
 line. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was, by his own request, officer of
 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 279 
 
 the night, and all alone made the rounds, again and 
 again, of the different commands in the little army, 
 from the river to the swamp. He preferred this 
 activity to any attempt to sleep. The terrible 
 weight upon his heart and mind was only less crush- 
 ing when he could find some exacting duty, the 
 performance of which would force him to crowd the 
 moment's demands to the front of his thoughts. 
 
 A few hours more, and the battle would come and 
 be over with. How would it end ? In the intense 
 selfishness of love the deepest love of husband and 
 father he was thinking only of the result to his 
 dear ones in the case of victory or defeat. But 
 behind the awful sense of danger to them from their 
 captivity to an army whose brutality was at the time 
 known the world over, there lay a vast, formless, 
 yet certain and distinct cloud of calamity creep- 
 ing closer and closer to their lives from out his 
 past. 
 
 It was while he was standing near the river, at 
 the west end of the breastworks, where a battery 
 of two guns had been planted, that a hand touched 
 his shoulder, and he turned to face old Burns. 
 
 It was as if the tall, wasted form had arisen out 
 of the ground. Mr. Vernon did not at first recog- 
 nize him, but when he spoke, the voice was unmis- 
 takable. 
 
 " There is no use trying to resist the force yon- 
 der," said the preacher. '* They are five to your 
 one. They will overwhelm you in the morning. I 
 have been there ; I know what I say."
 
 280 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " If they are a thousand to one, "growled Mr. Ver- 
 non, " we will whip them." 
 
 " You cannot ; they will pour right over these 
 works." 
 
 " They will never cross that ditch." 
 
 " I tell you," said Burns with vehemence, " there 
 must be ten thousand of them, all in columns, ready 
 to move at daylight." 
 
 Mr. Vernon thrust his face close to that of the 
 preacher and said : 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
 " Did I not just say that I was there ? It is not 
 an hour since I stood within their lines and saw 
 what I have spoken of," was the prompt answer. 
 
 " Then come with me to General Jackson ; he 
 must see you and speak with you. Come on !" 
 
 He clutched Burns's arm and led him toward the 
 house where the general was sleeping. 
 
 When they had gone a little way, Burns stopped 
 suddenly, as if some thought had demanded instant 
 consideration, or as if he had on the moment formed 
 the stubborn resolution not to go farther. 
 
 " Thomas MacCollough," he exclaimed, with deep 
 emphasis, " I owe you my life, and now I would 
 save yours in turn. You " 
 
 " Hold !" said Mr. Vernon, interrupting him with 
 peremptory firmness. " Not another word on that 
 score. You owe me nothing." 
 
 " Well, then, you will not blame me if I kill him ?" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I speak of Kirk MacCollough, your son !"
 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 281 
 
 No mere presentation of the words can suggest 
 the dramatic import of this terse colloquy. 
 
 Mr. Vernon turned a quarter about and seized 
 Burns's other arm. 
 
 Behind them a little fire flickered in the fog ; 
 they could dimly see each other's faces, grim and 
 grizzled, as they leaned closer and tried to stare into 
 each other's eyes. 
 
 Lately Mr. Vernon had begun to dread even the 
 thought of this man, who now seemed the one great- 
 est danger to his happiness ; for it was through him 
 that the past seemed on the point of being unlocked 
 and re-opened. Vasseur knew much ; but Vasseur 
 was easy to manage. One other knew all ; but that 
 one could always be bought to silence with money. 
 Burns alone was unmanageable ; because he alone 
 was sincere and incorruptible. 
 
 When for years a man has been absolute master 
 of himself and over all who have come within the 
 circle of his life, it is hard for him to realize suddenly 
 that his influence is about to fail. To Mr. Vernon 
 this threatened failure meant much more than mere 
 loss of power in the direction of any ordinary ambi- 
 tion. He had lived so long and so happily on the 
 crust of a volcano, that, until Burns had come, he had 
 forgotten what a fire lay under it. The worst of it 
 was that a man like Mr. Vernon could but feel 
 helpless and hopeless when dealing with one like 
 Burns. 
 
 As they stood thus for a moment at arms '-length, 
 with their faces thrust almost together, the two men 
 felt for the first time clearly how much they were
 
 282 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 in each other's way. Burns was aware now that 
 Mr. Vernon would stand between him and his one 
 remaining desire. He had conferred with Vasseur, 
 and from him had shrewdly drawn enough to con- 
 firm himself thoroughly in this thought. 
 
 Mr. Vernon's grip on Burns's arms drew them 
 inward with such force that the old man's chest was 
 almost folded together and his breathing became 
 difficult. 
 
 " You, a minister of the gospel, a priest of the 
 God of Heaven, come to tell me that you are going 
 to assassinate " Mr. Vernon stopped short and 
 drew in a deep, shivering breath as if the words had 
 almost choked him. " Shall 1 turn you over to 
 Jackson to be dealt with ?" 
 
 " Shall I turn you over to him ?" calmly responded 
 Burns. 
 
 There was something desperately reckless, beyond 
 anything that Mr. Vernon had ever dreamed of, in 
 the suggested significance of the words. He invol- 
 untarily loosed his hold and let fall his hands as if 
 just released from a galvanic shock. 
 
 " True, true," he murmured, in a strangely 
 changed voice ; " I am not one to lead others to 
 justice." 
 
 " You are better, far better than most men, even 
 with your sins all counted," said Burns. " I owe 
 everything to you and yours " 
 
 " Everything?" 
 
 " Yes, everything. But the evil part is not " 
 
 " Yes, yes, the evil and all is from me."
 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 283 
 
 " I was hungry and you fed me. I was dying and 
 you nursed me back to life." 
 
 "And now I ask you for more than life !" 
 exclaimed Mr. Vernon, in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " I know, I know," faltered Burns. 
 
 " No, you do not. You know enough, but not all." 
 
 " Yes, Thomas McCollough " 
 
 Mr. Vernon flew at his throat and shut off his 
 words. 
 
 " Speak that name again, and " He did not 
 complete the sentence ; he was ashamed of himself 
 instantly " Forgive me ; I am not at myself," he went 
 on, letting go his hold. His voice softened. " And 
 you you are going all wrong, Mr. Burns, you are 
 permitting your passion to drag you along with it ; 
 let me beg of you to stop and give your conscience 
 its freedom once more." 
 
 " I am sure," said Burns, with dry emphasis, " that 
 you have shown less self-control than have I. I 
 haven't tried to choke you." 
 
 " Forgive me, I repeat it, forgive me !" Mr. Ver- 
 non supplicated. 
 
 "There is nothing to forgive ; I mentioned it 
 only to remind you that it is not so easy to hold 
 oneself in." 
 
 " But you are a good man, Mr. Burns, and I am 
 not. Your life has been pure and clean and self- 
 sacrificing. You have served God and kept his 
 commandments. It is terrible for you to close up 
 your long and noble career where mine began, in 
 crime and violence. Think a moment, and " 
 
 " No, no, when I think, it maddens me ! I dare
 
 284 me KING or HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 not think ! Don't ask me to. All my years of 
 humble service in my calling have led up to this. 
 It is fate. I have but one thing to live for and that 
 I will accomplish before I die." 
 
 " Have you thrown off your Christianity, your 
 obligation to God and your priestly sanctity, as one 
 throws off a top-coat ?" 
 
 " All these have been torn from me by the way- 
 side thorns. I wore them till they fell in shreds at 
 my feet. They were not the true " 
 
 " There, ta ! You do violence to yourself and to 
 your sacred profession." 
 
 " Violence, violence, ah ! I have felt what it is. 
 I am not violent ! I am simply God's blade of ven- 
 geance. I am not a living man as you are ; I am 
 dead, save for the one little spark that lights me to 
 my purpose. You do not understand me ; you can- 
 npt ; you have not suffered enough to realize my 
 meaning." 
 
 " Ta ! You are unreasonable." 
 
 " Am I ? So I am. It is well that I am. If I 
 were reasonable I could not do what is to be done. 
 Behind me is desolation, a desert, a scorched and 
 blackened way, a life made as a cinder by Kirk 
 MacCollough. Reasonable, reasonable ! To kill 
 him is the only reasonable thing !" 
 
 Burns's words fell upon Mr. Vernon's ears with a 
 strange power. It was not the crazed old preacher's 
 purpose that struck with most terrible effect. It 
 was what lay beyond even the most perfect consum- 
 mation of revenge. There seemed little probability, 
 indeed, that Burns could ever do harm to the man
 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 285 
 
 he was trying to follow ; but what he might do with 
 the mere breath of his frenzied lips was incompar- 
 ably dreadful to think of. 
 
 Strange it is that, although Mr. Vernon had not 
 the slightest assurance of the safety of his wife and 
 daughter from even the most horrible consequences 
 that could come out of their captivity, he felt their 
 danger from that source far less than what would 
 befall them were his past to be made known to 
 them. Somehow, so long as he had Jackson's army 
 with him, he could not lose the hope that all would 
 be well, so far as retaking his loved ones was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 This was but a matter of fight. But the other ! 
 That was not to be fought back, once it should find 
 the way to reach them. He felt that Burns, in his 
 monomania, was likely at any moment to make an 
 end of all this beautiful, precious dream of happi- 
 ness. Happiness ? Ah ! He had been happy no 
 man happier but now, what was coming ? Where 
 were his wife and daughter ? He felt his brain swim 
 and waver. 
 
 Suddenly he grasped Burns's arms again with all 
 his giant strength. 
 
 " Tell me right here and now," he muttered husk- 
 ily, " tell me : Are you going to betray me ? are you 
 going to disclose the secret of my life ? Speak or 
 
 " I will not speak, save to shout for help, while 
 you assault me like this," said Burns. 
 
 " Forgive me ; I forgot. " 
 
 Mr. Vernon took off his hands from the old man's 
 arms as he spoke.
 
 286 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " But you can see how terrible it would be. Think 
 of my wife and daughter !" 
 
 " Think of Margaret ! But but to be sure, 
 you never harmed her, and I owe my life to you and 
 yours," said Burns. He stood a moment in silence, 
 and then added : 
 
 " Your secret is safe with me so long as you do 
 not interfere with with my purpose. To accom- 
 plish that I would, if I could, destroy heaven and 
 earth and all that is in them. I tell you that Kirk 
 MacCollough shall not live !" 
 
 His tone was solemnly awful. Mr. Vernon felt 
 helpless before him. They stood there in silence 
 after that until, suddenly, a light flashed forth from 
 the house where General Jackson had his head- 
 quarters. 
 
 "Gentlemen, it is time to be up !" they heard the 
 gruff commander exclaim, as if to awaken his sleep- 
 ing staff ; " the redcoats will be upon us before we 
 are ready if we don't step spry. Come, come, gen- 
 tlemen, fall out ?" 
 
 Immediately there were a stir and bustle in the 
 house. Lights shown at the windows and the clink- 
 ing of latches and the opening of doors told how 
 promptly the officers responded to the call of their 
 leader. A moment later Jackson himself came forth, 
 followed by the enthusiastic but sleepy aids, who 
 were buckling on their side-arms. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Vernon ; is that you ?" he demanded, 
 as he came near the two old men. " How goes every- 
 thing ? Any stir among the redcoats ?"
 
 ENOS PEEVY'S KIFLE-PEACTICE. 287 
 
 " Not yet," replied Mr. Vernon, " save that they 
 seem to be making ready for an advance." 
 
 " Let them come ; we are ready. Who is this you 
 have with you ?" 
 
 The general peered askance at Burns through the 
 fog and dust. 
 
 " It is a friend of mine," said Mr. Vernon, without 
 offering further introduction. 
 
 The members of Jackson's staff were coming 
 around him for orders, which he began giving with 
 his usual swift and clear understanding of what the 
 moment called for. Meantime Burns managed to 
 disappear. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 ENOS PEEVY'S RIFLE-PRACTICE. 
 
 At a little after daybreak, though the fog was still 
 heavy and the breeze too light to remove it, it was 
 observed that the British were steadily advancing. 
 
 Jackson had everything ready and was nervously 
 eager for the fray to begin ; but he preserved a cool 
 expression of face, and gave orders that there be 
 not a shot fired until the enemy were within cer- 
 tain range of the guns. 
 
 Mr. Vernon hastened to make his presence felt 
 among the men, who looked to him for the encour- 
 agement that such beings always need in the 
 supreme hour of danger. He found them chilled
 
 288 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 and hungry ; but they responded vehemently to his 
 few low words, and showed that they meant to be 
 brave. 
 
 A fiery rocket whizzed up from the British front 
 and curved through the slowly thinning fog ; then 
 another arose from a different point. 
 
 " They are coming," said Jackson to Lieutenant 
 Ballanche. " Let us go to Spotts's battery." 
 
 They walked along the line at a rapid gait and, 
 just as they came near, they heard a low order, and 
 then out boomed the gun. The long, red blaze 
 leaped far out through the fog-curtain, and they 
 saw for the first time the glint of red uniforms 
 away off by the line of woods across the open level 
 land. 
 
 The column was moving at a swift pace right 
 down upon them. 
 
 Old Enos Peevy came near the general and 
 saluted. 
 
 " Well, Enos," said Jackson, " is Mary Ann in 
 good order ?" 
 
 " Ye'll see poorty soon, gin'r'l. I air jes' er waitin' 
 for 'em air fellers ter come close enough for Mary 
 Ann ter talk to 'em ; she air got some remarks to 
 say to 'em, an she'll make 'em sick, shore 'nuff." 
 
 He rubbed the long, heavy barrel of his rifle 
 while he spoke, and wagged his head grimly. 
 
 And now the breeze strengthened and began to 
 lift away the fog. 
 
 Spotts's gun bellowed once more, shaking the 
 wet ground with its tremendous concussion. 
 
 The British column came right on ; all the bat-
 
 ENOS PEEVY'S KIFLE-PRACTICE. 289 
 
 teries in front of it opened bravely and sent their 
 heavy missiles plowing through it. 
 
 Soon enough the rifles of Tennessee and Kentucky 
 began to crack, keen and clear ; and when the range 
 became certain, the effect was terrible to see. 
 
 Peevy stood on top of the earthwork, with the 
 brim of his old cap turned up in front. He lifted 
 his gun and fired at an officer, who, sword in hand, 
 was leading the column. It was a deadly shot. 
 Down fell the brave man ; but the column bore 
 right on. Not far, however, for there was that fatal 
 ditch in its way, and the bullets and cannon-shot 
 were cutting men down like weeds. 
 
 " Give it to them, boys !" shouted Jackson, as he 
 tramped back and forth behind his brave little army, 
 the fire of battle lighting up his careworn face. 
 " Give it to them while they are wavering !" 
 
 The British recoiled, shattered, bleeding, con- 
 fused, their front ranks breaking into and destroying 
 the order of those behind. At first it appeared that 
 the fight was over ; for how could those scattered 
 and widely fleeing men ever be rallied and re-formed ? 
 
 It was then that the brave Pakenham showed 
 himself at the front waving his hat aloft and gallop- 
 ing to and fro and calling on his men to remember 
 the honor of England. They heard his manly voice 
 above the roar of the patriot guns that were playing 
 upon them, and they turned and set their faces once 
 more toward those low, dark breastworks along 
 which flickered and sparkled and flamed the rifle- 
 blazes of marksmen who shot with the aim of vet- 
 eran woodsmen. The bullets, like level swarms of
 
 290 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 furious bees, hummed along the crisp air of the 
 morning. 
 
 " Aim well, men ! Get a fine bead on them !" 
 shouted Jackson. " Blow them to hell !" 
 
 " That's the talk, gin'r'l !" responded Peevy, as he 
 stood deliberately reloading Mary Ann. "I'm er 
 doin* that air very thing !" 
 
 There was Vasseur wildly excited and trembling 
 like a freezing lamb, but fighting like a mad lion. 
 
 Not far off, Crapaiid Crapoussin, who came from 
 the city but an hour before, was crouching behind 
 the wet earthwork and firing away as best he could. 
 Fiddler Dick was there, too, with an enormously 
 heavy gun, which was so long, that he had to rest 
 the butt of it far back on the ground behind him 
 when he was loading it. Indeed, it seemed that all 
 classes of men to be found on the gulf coast, gentle- 
 men and cut-throat, dandy and ragamuffin, upright 
 citizen and scowling forban, all the noted characters 
 of city or swamp were to be seen in that oozy trench 
 fighting for the country of their birth or adoption, 
 regardless of self, their whole energy centered in 
 the one desire to drive back the British. Only one 
 of the well-known men of New Orleans who might 
 well have been looked for in the line was missing. 
 Yes, two. Colonel Loring and Lafitte. 
 
 The latter had been sent by Livingston to bear 
 Mrs. Livingston and her child to a place of safety, 
 should the battle be lost. 
 
 Down the line where Mr. Vernon's men were 
 stationed, the roar of the guns was continuous, like 
 the long, rattling roll of summer thunder. The
 
 ENOS PEEVY'S KIFLE-PKACTICE. 291 
 
 British bullets sang keenly overhead or tossed up 
 little puffs of sand along the embarkment. 
 
 " I'll git thet air feller on the hoss yit," muttered 
 Peevy, taking aim at Pakenham, " thet is, ef Mary 
 Ann kin carry thet fur." 
 
 He fired, and down went that brave officer's horse, 
 pitching his rider headlong. 
 
 " Thet thar stopped his cavortin', anyhow !" the 
 scout bawled out, though everybody was too excited 
 to hear. " 'Rah fur Gin'r'l Jackson !" 
 
 About this time Burns came shambling along the 
 line, apparently quite unconscious of danger. He 
 was haggard and wild-looking, his hair unkempt and 
 his long, thin, white beard tangled across his face. 
 
 He saw Vasseur and approached him. 
 
 " Have you seen him yet ?" he inquired, bending 
 over the excited little half-breed, " have you seen 
 him yet ?" 
 
 A round-shot cast up a splash of mud and water 
 in front of them. 
 
 " He not there at prayson," stammered forth poor 
 Vasseur. " Mebbe he not care about zis t'ing varee 
 likely." 
 
 The front of the British column dashed up to the 
 ditch ; a few brave fellows floundered through it 
 and rushed right into the muzzles of the American 
 guns. 
 
 But it was not for mortal courage to stem that 
 humming current of missiles. A thirty-two-pounder 
 was loaded to the muzzle with musket-balls and 
 fragments of metal. Just as the column thickened 
 close along the ditch, the gunner, with steady hand,
 
 292 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 lowered the piece so that the dreadful charge vvoiild 
 rake the level surface of the ground and fired. 
 Never, perhaps, in the history of warfare was there 
 another so destructive a shot. The historians tell 
 (what is too incredible even for romance) that two 
 hundred British soldiers were killed outright by that 
 storm of lead and iron, that one blast of the breath 
 of war ! 
 
 The whole front of the charging column had 
 melted down. 
 
 Peevy still stood on the breastwork, peeping 
 through the battle-smoke, trying always to aim at 
 some particular one of the enemy before firing 
 Mary Ann. 
 
 Pakenham had been given another horse, and 
 although one of the scout's bullets had hit him, he 
 mounted and went to the head of the column once 
 more to re-form it. But he was doomed. A grape- 
 shot dashed him, dying, to the ground. 
 
 General Gibbs took command. Peevy saw him 
 and signaled him out for his aim. 
 
 Mary Ann was merciless. Officer after officer 
 fell. Down dropped Gibbs ; over went Keane ; 
 Dale fell dead ; indeed, it seemed that no man who 
 undertook to lead the columns could escape those 
 special messages of Mary Ann when directed by the 
 imperturbable aim of the scout. 
 
 So the battle went ; the British recoiled, plunged 
 forward, tumbled in bleeding heaps, broke, rallied, 
 charged again and again. That little, muddy ditch, 
 with its slippery banks and slow, dark tide, was the 
 line of death. No man crossed it and lived.
 
 ENOS PEEVY'S RIFLE-PRACTICE. 293 
 
 At the last desperate moment, a man, superbly 
 mounted, was seen calling together the bravest 
 spirits of the English army. He rode like a king ; 
 his face was as cold as marble and yet scintillant 
 with magnetic energy. 
 
 General Jackson leveled his old field-glass upon 
 him and actually recoiled. 
 
 " That devil !" he exclaimed, and his bronzed and 
 jaundiced visage showed a sudden excitement. " A 
 renegade, by the eternal !" 
 
 Vasseur saw the new leader and leaned over the 
 breastwork to gaze at him. So attracted was he by 
 the apparition that he forgot his fear. 
 
 Mr. Vernon looked and turned pale. The enemy's 
 line re-formed, the Highlanders in front, and came 
 on again, this time with a steady sweep that ap- 
 peared resistless. 
 
 Peevy was still at his stand, reloading Mary Ann 
 as calmly as if he were going to shoot a squirrel. 
 
 " He air a long ways off, Mary Ann," muttered 
 he, " but we tnus' re'ch 'im, ole gal !" 
 
 He lifted the rifle and took deliberate sight over 
 the long barrel. The sharp report was lost in the 
 general roar of the fight. Had he missed ? There 
 was no sign to the contrary. 
 
 " Pierre Rameau ! Viola ! See ! It's Pierre Ra- 
 meau !" screamed Vasseur, dancing around wildly. 
 
 General Jackson came almost running along the 
 line, the white foam of excitement fringing his 
 bloodless lips. 
 
 " Shoot that eternal, infernal scoundrel for me, 
 Peevy !" he shouted, pointing his long, emaciated
 
 294: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 finger toward the new British leader. " Shoot him ! 
 Kill him !" 
 
 " Thet air 's jes' w'at I tole Mary Ann," replied 
 the scout, priming his rifle. 
 
 Jackson snatched up an old musket that had been 
 flung down by some one and aimed it. It snapped 
 harmlessly. He dashed it aside with furioiis empha- 
 sis and stood gazing in stark anger. 
 
 On came that steady, shining line, the regiment 
 of Highlanders stepping all as one man. 
 
 " Blow 'em up !" yelled Jackson. " Blow 'em to 
 the devil ! Shoot that officer ! Everybody aim at 
 him ! Do you hear ? Shoot that man on the 
 horse !" 
 
 " Thet 's the doctrine w'at I'm er preachin' ter 
 Mary Ann," responded Peevy. 
 
 Vasseur was so excited that he forgot to prime 
 his gun and, when at last he did prime it, he had 
 rammed home three loads, and so, when he fired, it 
 almost kicked him over. He thought he was 
 wounded in the shoulder. He cursed in three 
 languages. 
 
 The horseman rode right up to the ditch and 
 waved his hand to signal the charging troops to 
 cross it. 
 
 Peevy fired. The man's right arm fell to his side ; 
 but he took the bridle reins in his teeth and waved 
 his hat with his left hand. 
 
 " Shoot that devil, I tell you, Peevy, shoot him !" 
 
 " Ef ye'll shet erp yer mouth, gin'r'l, an' quit er 
 botherin' me wi* yer talk, I'll do it yit !" cried the 
 scout, with peevish fretfulness in his voice. " Mary
 
 ENOS PEEVT'S RIFLE-PRACTICE. 295 
 
 Ann cayn't stan' no sich jawin' es this yar 'at ye'r' 
 a-givin' us ! Go on erbout yer own business an' le' 
 me erlone !" 
 
 The general probably did not hear these words ; 
 but if he did he made no response, for Peevy was a 
 privileged character. 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood mute and motionless, his eyes 
 fixed upon that desperate horseman. 
 
 " Order your men to shoot at that officer that 
 renegade yonder!" Jackson stormed in the old man's 
 ear. 
 
 Mr. Vernon made no response, but turned and 
 walked away. 
 
 Just then the batteries and the rifles of Carroll's 
 men all roared out as one. A level flood of destruc- 
 tion poured across the ditch. For a few moments 
 the smoke enveloped the American line so that noth- 
 ing could be seen. Still the marksmen had the 
 range and kept on firing by guess, doing frightful 
 havoc. 
 
 When the cloud lifted, the whole British army 
 had apparently melted away. All over the level 
 field lay heaps and windrows of the slain. A few 
 scattered redcoats shone in the distance, their 
 wearers in precipitate flight. Broken cannon, 
 tumbled fascines and crushed ladders marked the 
 straggling route of the British Forty-fourth Regi- 
 ment, which had been assigned to the duty of mak- 
 ing the ditch crossable. One company, not far 
 from the river, was seen trying to re-form, although 
 half of its men were already dead and the living 
 ones nearly all wounded.
 
 296 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 The rider who had been so boldly conspicuous 
 was urging his sorely crippled horse away across 
 the field toward the wood. He still had the reins 
 in his teeth, while both arms dangled at his sides. 
 
 The terrible thirty-two-pounder was fired once 
 more, and the horse went down, torn into shreds ; 
 but up rose that dark, determined cavalier and 
 steadily continued his retreat on foot. 
 
 A yell of admiration burst forth from the victori- 
 ous Americans as they gazed. 
 
 Then a still stranger sight met their eyes. A tall 
 old man, who had climbed over the breastworks 
 from the American side, set off at a tottering but 
 singularly swift gait in the direction of the British 
 lines. When he reached the fatal ditch, beyond 
 which the ground was heaped with slain, he floun- 
 dered through it and arose, muddy and dripping, on 
 the farther bank. There he paused for a moment, 
 wiped the ooze from his face and then went right 
 on. 
 
 It was Max Burns, the preacher. And who was 
 that little man running after him ? The onlookers 
 had scarcely had time to make out before the cloud 
 of smoke settled down again and hid both from view. 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood like a grim statue while this 
 was going on. Very well he knew what it was that 
 impelled both Burns and Vasseur.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PRISOHERS. 
 
 When Lapin recoiled before the incoming men 
 out at the plantation-house and uttered the name of 
 Pierre Rameau, Mrs. Vernon, Pauline and Made- 
 moiselle de Sezannes began to shriek, rushing 
 together into one another's arms. 
 
 Colonel Loring entered, followed by two or three 
 ill-favored men. If he was surprised at seeing the 
 three ladies so frightened at the mere mention of 
 his name the name he had come to like best he 
 did not show it in his calm, cold face, or by even 
 the slightest movement. 
 
 He stood a moment as if to make sure of his 
 vision and then stalked forward in his peculiar half- 
 graceful, half-dogged way to where the group of 
 frightened and crying women stood. 
 
 " Why, Madame Vernon !" he cried. " Is this 
 you ? And you, Miss Pauline ! And Mademoiselle 
 de Sezannes !" 
 
 He looked at them askance, but with no particular 
 interest. 
 
 " Oh, it is Colonel Loring !" cried Mrs. Vernon, 
 
 [297]
 
 298 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 springing toward him, almost as if to embrace him, 
 in her sudden sense of relief. " I was frightened 
 nearly out of my senses ; oh, I'm so very glad !" 
 
 The man smiled so that his face for the moment 
 flashed forth a fascinating light from its almost stolid 
 features. He took Mrs. Vernon's hand, and at the 
 same time looked at Pauline and Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes. 
 
 " I am making my way to my friends," he said, 
 " and came in here thinking to get some information. 
 I did not dream of the pleasure of finding you here." 
 
 He told the lie with consummate ease and nat- 
 uralness. 
 
 The young ladies now came forward smiling 
 through their tears and greeted him warmly. For 
 the moment even Mademoiselle de Sezannes forgot 
 that he had made himself odious to her. 
 
 Meantime Lapin stood open-mouthed and wonder- 
 ing to see that terrible robber received so consider- 
 ately by his mistress and Pauline. 
 
 " I am on my way to join the British army," 
 Loring went on to say, with perfect indifference in 
 his tone. " I think they are quite near here." 
 
 Mrs. Vernon recoiled from him, horrified. Pau- 
 line's face whitened. 
 
 " But you are jesting," said Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes. " You would not do that." 
 
 "Why not?" he demanded, with something like 
 brutal emphasis. " What should hinder me ? These 
 Americans have set a price on my head ; and, 
 besides, I am a Scotchman. I owe my allegiance to 
 my country."
 
 PRISONERS. 299 
 
 The scene in the theatre rose in Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes's memory at once, and so vividly that she 
 clasped her hands and uttered a little cry of pain 
 and anger. 
 
 Loring smiled sardonically, feeling her thought, 
 as it were, flung upon him. 
 
 " This country is too small for both me and my 
 enemies," he smiled, " and so for a few days I leave 
 them in possession ; but when I return," and his 
 face showed a sudden concentration of passion, 
 " when I return, they will be glad to get out of my 
 way." 
 
 He turned and waved his hand, and his men 
 retired from the house. 
 
 " Go give them something to eat," he said to 
 Lapin. I 
 
 Then he began tramping heavily back and forth 
 across the floor. 
 
 Pauline went to him and timidly yet with a cer- 
 tain firmness laid her hand on his arm. She walked 
 beside him. It was a strange picture they made. 
 The girl's impulse could not have been explained 
 by her ; she felt as if she could save him, as if some 
 great spring in her nature compelled her to try. 
 
 The thought that the British army was very near 
 her had affected Mrs. Vernon to such a degree that 
 she could not feel the full force of what was impell- 
 ing Pauline. As for Mademoiselle de Sezannes, she 
 stood shivering with a chill of blended emotions 
 while she gazed at Loring. 
 
 It is the last refinement of torture when we feel 
 that we hate and detest and yet have to admire-
 
 300 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Loring compelled Mademoiselle de Sezannes's ad- 
 miration in some mysterious way. His manly 
 beauty, marred with the gloom of evil as it was, had 
 yet the fascination which captivates while it repels. 
 As he walked with Pauline hanging on his arm, it 
 was like Satan leading an angel of heaven and still 
 there came from his dark face the unmistakable and 
 irresistible demand for sympathy. 
 
 " Do not go," murmured Pauline ; " stay with us. 
 I do not know why, but I feel that I cannot let you 
 go." 
 
 Her appeal was so simply spoken, so earnest, so 
 evidently straight from the heart that Loring looked 
 down into her face with sudden softening of his 
 cruel eyes. He did not speak, but she saw his look. 
 
 " You know that it is not right for you to " 
 
 " Right !" he interrupted. " I never did a right 
 thing in my life. Doing right would be a new 
 experience." 
 
 " Begin now," she urged. " You will find it very 
 comforting." 
 
 " Do you know who I am ?" he demanded, almost 
 gruffly. 
 
 "Yes, I know." 
 
 " No, you do not. If you did, you would not touch 
 me, speak tome, look at me. You would abhor me." 
 
 " I heard your name just a while ago." 
 
 " Ah, that name ! Yes, you heard that. Is it not 
 dreadful to you ?" 
 
 "You might be a good man yet." 
 
 " The words come easily ; but deeds are not so
 
 PRISONERS. 301 
 
 lig-htly fashioned. If I had always had one like you 
 to influence me " 
 
 " It is yourself that must do that. You are no 
 child to be influenced. I am scarcely more than a 
 child myself, but I know that " 
 
 "You know absolutely nothing." 
 
 " I know that, if you would try, you could be a 
 good man. Forgive me, if I say that you are bad ; 
 but" 
 
 He laughed outright and looked at her as one 
 looks at a child when it has said some laughable 
 thing. 
 
 She let go his arm and stood facing him. Her 
 attitude and her fresh and delicate beauty made her 
 look like a tall, graceful flower. 
 
 He reached a hand and half caressingly touched 
 her hair. It was the thing that a brother would 
 have done ; there was no way of resenting it. 
 
 " I'd rather have a biscuit and a glass of wine 
 than a lecture," he said, lightly enough. " Can't 
 you offer me something to eat and drink ? I'm 
 hungry." 
 
 " Yes, certainly." 
 
 They together approached Mrs. Vernon and 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes, who had been standing 
 helplessly looking upon what was to them an inex- 
 plicable scene. 
 
 " Colonel Loring has not had dinner," Pauline 
 said to her mother ; " we must be hospitable." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes shrank away as they 
 came up. 
 
 Loring noticed this and gave her a smile which
 
 302 THE KINO OP HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 made his face show all of its evil beauty. He 
 waved his hand at her and said : 
 
 " You hate me because I punished Ballanche for 
 his impudence." His lip curled. 
 
 " He and Jackson will be apt to remember me," 
 he added, after a moment's pause. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon hastened to set some food for him, 
 and he ate and drank heartily. 
 
 Pauline was in a strange state of mind. She felt 
 irresistibly urged from within to do something, she 
 knew not what, for the benefit of this dark, wicked, 
 fascinating man. It made her shudder to see him, 
 and she shrank from the thought of his past life 
 knowing now that he was Pierre Rameau, the out- 
 law but yet some fountain in her heart bled for 
 him, some center of sympathy in the deepest 
 chamber of her soul sent forth a thrill in his behalf. 
 She was, to a degree, like one in a dream, albeit she 
 realized to the full the hopelessness of the desire 
 that was forming in her breast. How could she do 
 anything to turn this strong man back from evil ? 
 She remembered that she had, when a child, seen 
 the officials taking a young man to the scaffold to 
 be executed. He was a mere youth, hard-faced and 
 repulsive ; but ever since she had regretted that 
 she could not go to him and show him that one of 
 all the world was sorry for him. Why should she 
 recall that scene at this moment? The human 
 heart beats through mysterious rhythms. We can 
 never say by what labyrinths the roots of sympathy 
 travel to reach their end. If Pauline could have 
 known all the history of this man, she might have
 
 PRISONERS. 303 
 
 felt none of the inexplicable fascination which came 
 to her like a vague but powerful reminder of some- 
 thing sadly but unmistakably imperative in her 
 nature ; but she was aware now of just enough to 
 arouse all the romance as well as all the pity that 
 an inexperienced young girl's heart can compass. 
 
 When Loring arose from the table at which he 
 had eaten, he turned to Mademoiselle de Sezannes 
 and appeared about to speak, but he checked him- 
 self. 
 
 "Thank you," he said to Mrs. Vernon. "I was 
 very hungry. I will now go to the British lines, un- 
 less " he hesitated just for a breath " unless you 
 will permit me to help you and the young ladies 
 back to New Orleans. Indeed, this is no place for 
 you." 
 
 He had scarcely ceased speaking, when one of his 
 men unceremoniously broke into the room and ex- 
 claimed, with blunt, rough vehemence : 
 
 " We're surrounded ! The British are all around 
 the place !" 
 
 When Loring's companion ran in with the cry, 
 " We are surrounded ! The British are all around 
 the place !" the ladies were dumbfounded. They 
 stood like white-faced statues. 
 
 Loring did not appear to find anything startling 
 in the situation. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," he said, shrugging his 
 shoulders and again touching Pauline's hair with a 
 half-playful yet perfectly respectful expression of 
 regard. " I shall not be long settling with my friends. 
 Excuse me for a few moments."
 
 304: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 He walked boldly out through the front door, fol- 
 lowed by his man. As he passed close to Mrs. 
 Vernon, he stooped toward her and said, with a ring 
 of impatience in his voice : 
 
 " Your husband must have been quite out of his 
 senses when he sent you ladies out here. But be 
 calm. You shall not be ill-treated." 
 
 There was a stir out-of-doors a sound of voices. 
 Some low commands were given. Mrs. Vernon and 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes became hysterical, but 
 Pauline, though pale as a ghost, seemed to have 
 found ample strength to bear whatever was to come. 
 She thought she heard her father's voice at the 
 door. It was Loring speaking with the British offi- 
 cer. The two entered a moment later. 
 
 " They must be taken to some place where they 
 can be protected," Loring was saying. 
 
 " Certainly, if it can be done," the officer replied. 
 " But we are in no condition to take care of ladies." 
 
 " Send them to New Orleans." 
 
 " No, -sir. That is against positive orders. We 
 are to permit no white person to go from us to the 
 enemy. No ; we must take them. If you are what 
 you claim to be, the general will receive you kindly 
 and give the ladies the best comforts that he can 
 command. That is alt that I can say." 
 
 " I advise you to treat me with respect, sir," said 
 Loring, very calmly, and fixing his eyes with a 
 malignant stare on those of the officer. " You will 
 know more of me." 
 
 " Do as I command you !" exclaimed the sturdy 
 Englishman. " I'm not to be bullied by a prisoner !
 
 PRISONERS. 305 
 
 Bundle tip these women and put them on your 
 horses. You will walk. There's no time for talk. 
 Move along !" 
 
 Loring compressed his lips, but said not another 
 word. He saw that for once he had found a check 
 to his arrogance. He explained to the ladies that 
 all were prisoners and that they would have to go 
 to the British commander's headquarters." 
 
 " I commend you to the good-will of Lieutenant 
 Barnaby," he said, bowing with perfect ease toward 
 the officer. " He feels as big as a drum-major at 
 present." 
 
 " Silence, sir, or I'll have you gagged in an in- 
 stant !" exclaimed the lieutenant. 
 
 " You could not gag a hen!" sneered Loring. 
 
 The lieutenant whipped out his sword ; his face 
 was ablaze with choler. 
 
 The ladies began to shriek. Pauline sprang 
 between the men. Loring put her gently but forci- 
 bly aside ; then lifted the lapel of his coat and leaned 
 forward. 
 
 "Put your sword-point through that!" he ex- 
 claimed, laying his finger on a shining badge that 
 covered his heart. " Thrust away, young man ! 
 Thrust away !" 
 
 The face of the officer paled as suddenly as it had 
 reddened. He stood as if faltering for a moment, 
 and then saluted. 
 
 Loring responded with lofty indifference, and 
 turning to Mrs. Vernon bade her make haste to go 
 with her captors. 
 
 " I will protect you all," he said, turning to Made-
 
 306 THE ZING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 moiselle de Sezannes. " You will be safer with the 
 army than in New Orleans." After a moment he 
 turned to the lieutenant and said : 
 
 " Hurry things up, let us be off." 
 
 It was a curious change ; the prisoner seemed to 
 be in command. 
 
 "You will ride my horse," he said to Pauline, 
 taking her gently by the arm, " and I am going to 
 walk along beside you. Wrap yourself up well, for 
 it is chilly out in this night fog. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ACROSS THE BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 After the great battle was over, Lieutenant Bal- 
 lanche was sent by General Jackson to confer with 
 the British officers regarding the burial of the dead 
 lying so thickly tumbled together on that bloody 
 plain. In the course of the interview he did not 
 fail to make inquiries concerning the captive ladies, 
 and when he was told that they were in a small 
 country house not far from the battle-field, he felt 
 his heart leap. He had to smother impatience, 
 however, and go on with his military duties just as 
 though love were a matter of subordinate import- 
 ance, and as if the burial of a few hundred invaders 
 were of higher obligation than rescuing a beautiful 
 and adorable sweetheart from a situation of suffer-
 
 ACROSS THE BATTLE-FIELD. 307 
 
 ing and danger. A young man must be under good 
 discipline to be thus wedded to military duty ; but 
 it may be remembered that Andrew Jackson had a 
 way of making every one about him regard orders 
 as absolutely binding beyond even life itself. 
 
 What set the terrible sting of doubt in the lieu- 
 tenant's heart and made him chafe through every 
 moment of that seemingly interminable conference, 
 was the fact that none of the British officers could 
 tell him whether or not the captives were still safe 
 from harm. All that they could say was to the 
 effect that the ladies had been kindly treated and 
 safely guarded up to the time of the battle. Since 
 then no one had seen them or heard of them. And 
 what might have happened during that wild rush of 
 overthrow, when the whole British army was torn, 
 and scattered, and when the exasperated soldiers 
 were left to shift for themselves without officers to 
 restrain them ? The thought was one to chill the 
 young man's blood ; but he went on with the con- 
 ference, his agitation showing only in a certain 
 austerity of manner which the British officers attrib- 
 uted to native churlishness. When at last he had 
 finished the matter, he hastened to General Jackson 
 with his report. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was present when he arrived at head- 
 quarters and had already asked leave to go in search 
 of his family. The old man's face lighted np 
 wonderfully when Ballanche told what he knew. 
 
 " And they are safe !" he exclaimed, showing 
 more passionate excitement than any one had ever 
 witnessed in him before. " They told you that they
 
 308 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 were safe ?" A singularly beseeching note rang 
 through his words. 
 
 The lieutenant could not have the heart to tell 
 him that there was a doubt. 
 
 General Jackson would not permit any precipitate 
 action. He reminded Mr. Vernon that a truce was 
 pending and that due formalities must be observed 
 in the matter of penetrating the British lines for 
 any purpose. The old man bore the delay in the 
 spirit of a caged lion. It seemed to him that a year 
 might have elapsed since he parted from his wife 
 and daughter ; every moment now dragged by like 
 a snail. 
 
 What added a peculiar dread to the situation was 
 the thought of Loring, Vasseur and old man Burns 
 all going in the direction which might lead them to 
 where Mrs. Vernon and Pauline had been left by 
 their captors. Mr. Vernon's whole mind dwelt on 
 the fear that his wife and daughter might be told 
 the secret of his past life. His imagination, which 
 was as vigorous and lawless as his frame was stal- 
 wart, built up all manner of dark prophecies and 
 filled him with forebodings too dreadful for any 
 thought to give them definite form. He accused 
 himself with all the bitterness of which self-accusa- 
 tion is possible. Why had he not left his loved ones 
 at home where they would have been so safe now ? 
 What demon had possessed him to send them (of all 
 places in the world) to that plantation-house right 
 in the path of the British army ? 
 
 When at last, after hours of delay, all necessary 
 formalities had been observed and everything was
 
 ACROSS THE BATTLE-FIELD. 809 
 
 ready, General Jackson ordered six men detailed to 
 accompany Mr. Vernon and Lieutenant Ballanche 
 on their journey of love. 
 
 Old Enos Peevy was one of the squad. A young- 
 British officer joined them to see them safe to their 
 destination. They were all mounted ; but three of 
 the horses were to bear the ladies back to the 
 American lines. 
 
 A rough bridge had been hastily cast across the 
 ditch of death, and over this Mr. Vernon led the 
 way. passing into the awful swaths of war's reaping. 
 Peevy rode beside him, sitting awkwardly but 
 firmly on a little Creole pony, his long, bony legs 
 reaching down so far that his feet almost touched 
 the blood-tinged ground. He was very much inter- 
 ested in noting the condition of the dead British as 
 he passed along. 
 
 " Thar's a feller 'at I plumpted a hole through," 
 he exclaimed presently with great satisfaction, 
 pointing toward a stalwart Highlander outstretched 
 on his back. " I put it to 'im jes' ez 'e war " 
 
 " Hush, man !" said Mr. Vernon in an undertone, 
 " remember that we have an English officer with 
 us." 
 
 " Oh, tarnation take the officer ! Wat air I er 
 keerin' fer 'im ?" grumbled the scout " I wush 'at 
 I'd er got a bead onter him. Ef I hed it 'd er ben 
 good-bye 'at Mary Ann 'd said to *im." 
 
 If the English officer heard vrhat was said he dis- 
 creetly kept silent. 
 
 As they rode along, picking their way between 
 the heaps of slain, their horses stumbling over the
 
 310 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 ruts made by cannon-balls, Lieutenant Ballanche 
 looked back toward the low breastworks behind 
 which he had fought, and it required but a glance 
 to comprehend the fatal mistake made by the 
 British. The deadly ditch looked harmless enough 
 from this side a man would think he could jump 
 across it. 
 
 Mr. Vernon could not bear a moderate pace. As 
 soon as they were well beyond the first windrow of 
 the battle he urged his horse to a canter, then into 
 a gallop. Ballanche spurred forward and joined 
 him. A mighty impatience was burning the blood 
 of the two men. 
 
 *' How far is it yet !" Mr. Vernon huskily demand- 
 ed, after they had gone beyond the battle-field 
 proper and passed through a stretch of wet, plashy 
 woods. 
 
 "Just yonder, around the point of magnolias," 
 was the almost breathless answer. " The house is 
 behind those trees." 
 
 The old man leaned forward in his saddle and 
 put his horse to its best. 
 
 *I fear that we shall run into trouble at this 
 rate," said the English officer who had chanced to 
 come side by side with Enos Peevy. 
 
 " Ef we do," said the scout, with a grim leer, " I'll 
 -pop you the fust one. Mary Ann yer, w'at I hev in 
 my han', kinder wants ter mek yer 'quaintance any- 
 how." 
 
 The conversation ended at once. The English- 
 man bit his lip and drew in his horse so as to fall 
 behind. Soon enough he was out of sight, and the
 
 ACROSS THE BATTLE-FIELD. 311 
 
 Americans saw him no more. He was tired of the 
 ride. 
 
 Mr. Vernon and Lieutenant Ballanche were too 
 much absorbed in the thought of reaching the mag- 
 nolia point and coming within view of the house to 
 note the absence of the officer until Peevy called to 
 them : 
 
 " Thet air feller hey snoke off," he cried, in his 
 shrill treble. " That etarnal orficer air gone !" 
 
 They slackened their pace to let him come up 
 with them. 
 
 " Let him go," said Mr. Vernon, when he under- 
 stood the matter, " we don't need him." And again 
 they spurred on. 
 
 Lieutenant Ballanche had a fresher, stronger 
 horse than the one that bore Mr. Vernon and by 
 the time that they had swung round the point with 
 the little plantation-house full in view he was con- 
 siderably in the lead. 
 
 It was with an indescribable stifling sensation 
 that he leaned over his saddle-horn and gazed 
 between straggling orange trees toward the low 
 doorway beyond a broken gate. The place looked 
 lonely and desolate ; it was a picture of silence set 
 against a gray background of wilderness. 
 
 Mr. Vernon and Ballanche had ridden into the 
 enclosure and were approaching the house. The 
 walk or pathway was narrow and Mr. Vernon was 
 now in advance. Suddenly he drew his horse back 
 with such force that it almost stood upright on its 
 haunches ; at the same time he uttered a deep ejac- 
 ulation of surprise and horror.
 
 312 THE KING OF HONKY ISLAND. 
 
 A man lay dead, doubled up across the path near 
 the front-door of the house. Mr. Vernon recog- 
 nized the face instantly, although it was pinched 
 and distorted. 
 
 Peevy saw that something startling had been dis- 
 covered and hurried through the gate. 
 
 " Wat air the matter now, fellers ?" he inquired. 
 Then, seeing the dead body, he added : "W'y, it air 
 thet thar feller 'at went er cavortin' " 
 
 He was interrupted by a sharp cry from the 
 house, and the door was flung wide open. 
 
 " Etarnal Jerusalem !" he exclaimed. " Jes' look, 
 will ye !" 
 
 Mr. Vernon and Ballanche were already looking. 
 They had seen many dead men that day, had ridden 
 past them and over them, but this one demanded 
 more than a glance, at least from Mr. Vernon, who 
 did not look at once, even when the voice rang out 
 from the opening door of the house. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A WOUNDED LJOK. 
 
 Meantime, Mrs. Vernon, Pauline and Mademoiselle 
 de Sezannes had not been ill-treated beyond what 
 the exigencies of life in the immediate vicinity of 
 the British camp made inevitable. The command- 
 ing officer ordered them to be kept in the small
 
 A WOUNDED LION. 313 
 
 house already described and furnished them food 
 and a guard. Under the circumstances, this was 
 the best that he could do. He felt that to send them 
 through the lines would be a dangerous proceeding, 
 as he was relying upon surprising the Americans. 
 
 Colonel Loring found no difficulty in securing the 
 favor of General Keane, and, later, General Paken- 
 ham himself recognized him as one who had done 
 him a great and dangerous service years before. 
 Moreover, Loring brought with him perfect maps 
 and drawings of all the American defenses and full 
 descriptions and reports of all the troops under 
 Jackson and the probable order of their distribu- 
 tion, nor did he neglect to exhibit, as if half by acci- 
 dent, the newspapers containing the sensational 
 accounts of his daring assault upon General Jack- 
 son's nose. He volunteered to lead a reconnoiter- 
 ing party in the direction of the American lines, 
 and the result was a full confirmation of his previous 
 statements regarding the probable plans of Jackson 
 for the defense of New Orleans. All this aided 
 him, but his personal magnetism went much 
 farther. There was something in him that drew 
 men of daring and reckless courage to him and held 
 them there. His voice, his manner, his steady, fear- 
 less eyes and the look of absolute self-assurance 
 which seemed to be the natural expression of his 
 face made way for him even in the councils of the 
 generals. Men of iron found him a man of ada- 
 mant, nor did they look through to the darker side 
 of his being ; men rarely trouble themselves with, 
 what is not most available in their fellows.
 
 314 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Loring found time to be kind to the captive 
 women, and especially to Pauline he showed almost 
 tender solicitude in seeking her comfort. He did 
 not often enter into conversation with her, nor were 
 his visits more than merely formal. Pauline, how- 
 ever, in her great desire to know what was going on 
 and what was likely to be the outcome of the impend- 
 ing battle watched for his coming each day, with the 
 hope that he would have something to say which 
 would lessen the strain of suspense. 
 
 Day after day went by, meantime, with nothing 
 to break the dread monotony or to soften the horror 
 of seeing the English troops swell in numbers and 
 of hearing the preparation of an overwhelming col- 
 umn of attack which was meant to sweep the little 
 American band before it like dry leaves before a 
 breeze. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes hated Loring more 
 and more as the time dragged on. She treated him 
 with the cold courtesy of a scornful politeness when 
 she was forced to accept a favor at his hands ; but 
 he appeared not to notice her mood. His whole 
 mind seemed occupied with the thought of contrib- 
 uting all that he could to insuring the best disposi- 
 tion and direction of the British forces. The little 
 and yet in some way strangely significant marks of 
 attention shown by him to Pauline were the only 
 signs of any turning, even for a moment, from his 
 concentrated singleness of interest. 
 
 The house on which our attention for the present 
 centers stood at the edge of a dark wood bordering 
 a swamp. Its front looked toward the plain upon
 
 A WOUNDED LION. 315 
 
 which were being made the preparations for battle. 
 Westward and not far away the muddy current of 
 the Mississippi tumbled along darkly behind a low 
 levee. It was a rough wooden building plainly 
 furnished and but recently abandoned in great haste 
 by its owner. Two elderly slave-women were 
 appointed to serve the captives. 
 
 After the night-fight already hastily sketched, 
 Loring came to the house and reported that the 
 Americans had shown their strength and mode of 
 warfare and that now it would be an easy thing to 
 attack them in force and destroy them. He 
 appeared somewhat more animated than Pauline 
 had ever before seen him ; but she could not be sure 
 what his excitement indicated ; it may have been, 
 she thought after he was gone, no more than the 
 after-glow of the battle-spirit. It was evident, 
 even to her inexperienced mind, that the British 
 had not been successful in the engagement ; but 
 when, later on, the reinforcements landed and 
 poured across the plain, when the great cannon 
 went lumbering by, when the flags streamed out 
 and the thousands of red uniforms shone in thick 
 array, seen in the distance through the straggling 
 orange-grove, she felt that all hope was indeed gone. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon and Mademoiselle de Sezannes had 
 been despondent and given over to moaning and 
 tears from the first. Pauline, even when despair 
 came, preserved her composure. Loring noted this 
 steadfastness of will in the girl, and it seemed to 
 appeal to him as through a strain of likeness to his 
 own character, strange as such a comparison might
 
 316 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 be ; and once, when Mademoiselle de Sezannes 
 looked at the two standing near each other, she saw, 
 as by a flash of sudden revelation, a striking resem- 
 blance between their faces, especially in the way of 
 lengthening and narrowing the eyes in moments of 
 deep feeling. 
 
 "I hate you, almost," she said to Pauline, when 
 Loring was gone, " because you look like that 
 man." 
 
 "Look like him !" exclaimed Mrs. Vernon. 
 " What a horrid jest !" 
 
 " It is horrible, but it is no jest," said Made- 
 moiselle de Sezannes, with emphasis. "Just now 
 their eyes were precisely alike." 
 
 Pauline was offended, and drew herself up to turn 
 away. The quick rush of resentment, well repres- 
 sed though it was, exemplified the theory of Made- 
 moiselle de Sezannes. Madame Vernon saw the flat- 
 tening and leveling of the beautiful eyelids and 
 caught the momentary gleam from the lengthening 
 eyes. 
 
 She started hysterically, and would have spoken 
 had not Loring returned rather hastily to say that 
 the battle would open on the following morning 
 this had just been determined upon and that it 
 was absolutely necessary for them to remain close 
 shut in the house until all should be over. 
 
 And so when, in the small hours of the following 
 night, the low, wide stir began, the women kne\r 
 that the British columns were forming for the great 
 assault. 
 
 The day was a terrible one for them. They
 
 A WOUNDED LION. 317 
 
 could not see any part of the battle ; but the grind- 
 ing roar of it rolled over the house, which shook as 
 if with an earthquake. It seemed to them that they 
 could hear the despairing cry of the Americans as 
 they fell crushed and bleeding under the victorious 
 columns of their enemies. Mrs. Vernon clasped the 
 tiny gold crucifix which hung at her throat and 
 kneeling in agony prayed and wept. Mademoiselle 
 de Sezannes cast herself upon a couch and hid her 
 face in the pillows ; but Pauline stood at a front 
 window straining her eyes and ears to see and hear. 
 
 Before the middle of the forenoon the thunder 
 and the patter of the fight gradually ceased, and 
 soon enough the broken and fear-crazed columns of 
 the British came wildly straggling back across the 
 plain. What had been solid walls of red uniformed 
 soldiers moving with rhythmic vigor and steadiness 
 was now a confused rabble, leaderless and dispersed, 
 all flying away from an imaginary charging column 
 of Americans. 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" cried Pauline. " They 
 are flying ! They are defeated ! They are driven 
 back all wild and routed !" 
 
 She precipitated herself upon her mother in an 
 ecstasy of joy. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Sezannes sprang up and ran to 
 the window. Off in the distance, as she looked 
 between the orange trees, she saw men bearing 
 litters, rolling cannon, running, limping, gesticulat- 
 ing, assisting wounded comrades, leading horses on 
 which lay dead officers it was a terrible sight : 
 but in the first rush of her realization of triumph
 
 318 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND, 
 
 she felt no horror from the scene. She clasped her 
 hands together and gazed with wide open tearless 
 eyes. 
 
 It was nearly noon when the servants brought in 
 breakfast ; meantime the British had disappeared, 
 and a great silence lay upon the plain and the woods. 
 The ladies had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, 
 and now, with the great reaction from the strain of 
 terrible anxiety, there came hunger. But food did 
 not seem to attract them ; they ran to the windows 
 and doors every minute or two only to turn away, 
 disappointed, from the desolate scene. 
 
 At last, however, a footfall on the doorsteps was 
 accompanied by the voice of Colonel Loring. 
 
 " Miss Pauline, will you let me in, please ?" he 
 called. 
 
 Pauline ran to the door and opened it. At first 
 she did not notice that Loring was bloody. He 
 stood quite erect, and his face showed no sign of 
 suffering. 
 
 "Come in," she cried, " come in, Colonel Loring. 
 It is so good of you we are so frightened, so bewil- 
 dered, so lonely." 
 
 She extended both hands with the impulse of her 
 delight at the relief his presence afforded. 
 
 He inclined his hatless head and smiled in acknowl- 
 edgment of her greeting, and now she saw that both 
 his arms hung powerless, dangling and bloody. 
 
 "Oh, you are hurt, wounded!" she exclaimed. 
 " You have been shot !" 
 
 " It is of no consequence ; some light hurts that
 
 A WOUNDED LION. 319 
 
 will give no trouble. Is there any wine in the 
 house ?" 
 
 He came in with a firm step and sat down in a 
 large armed chair. 
 
 There was a half-bottle of claret, which Pauline 
 fetched. He drank the whole of it thirstily. 
 
 " It is a wonder that this is left," he said, nodding 
 toward the empty bottle after Pauline had poured 
 the last drop down his throat. 
 
 " General Gibbs sent it to us," she said. 
 
 " And he is killed ; so is Pakenham ; indeed, they 
 are all killed ; the army is destroyed, it destroyed 
 itself. What a set of dolts they all were !" Loring 
 spoke rapidly, but seemingly without much feeling. 
 
 Before he had finished there was a knock at the 
 door. Mademoiselle de Sezannes, who chanced to 
 be nearest it, flung it open. 
 
 Vasseur came in without ceremony and stood 
 before Loring, his face twitching with the'ecstasy 
 of terrible passion. Immediately he began to pour 
 forth the most horrible curses, and between them he 
 sandwiched what he knew of Loring's past history. 
 It was a denunciation at once eloquent and brutal 
 beyond description. Loring for once was unable to 
 meet an exigency with a prompt bar. He sat 
 calmly enough ; but he could not stop the current. 
 Vasseur, in his wild wrath, seeing that his victim 
 was apparently helpless, went with a rush into the 
 revolting details of the life which he and Loring had 
 passed together as outlaws in Spain. They had 
 robbed a convent, killing a nun to get the jewels 
 and precious stones afterward taken from Vasseur
 
 320 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 by Pierre Rameau. He went on to tell how Loring 
 and Pierre Rameau were the same man, and how 
 Margaret, the robber's wife, had been murdered by 
 him in cold blood because she sought the protection 
 of a priest to escape brutality. 
 
 It was a story to chill the blood of any hearer, 
 and its double climax was reached when Vasseur 
 dwelt upon the whipping that Rameau had caused 
 him to submit to and the attempt to murder old 
 man Burns in the wilderness of the Pearl- River 
 country. 
 
 The ladies retreated before the blasphemous 
 torrent of mingled confession, denunciation and 
 profanity. 
 
 Vasseur spoke so rapidly that his say was soon 
 ended, and then he sprang at Loring with a 
 dagger. 
 
 " Die, Pierre Rameau !" he shrieked, in Creole 
 patois. " Die ! Die !" 
 
 But Pierrre Rameau had heard such tragic com- 
 mands before this. He had played a part in tragedy 
 too often to be taken by surprise and laid out so 
 easily. 
 
 " Fool !" was all that he said ; and, rising with 
 the promptness of a steel spring, he kicked the little 
 man through the open doorway into the yard. 
 
 Vasseur arose from where he had fallen, put his 
 hands on his chest, tottered for a few paces along 
 the walk toward the gate, then sank down, ail 
 doubled together, and lay still. 
 
 Pierre Rameau stood gazing at the crumpled body 
 for a moment, and when, presently, he lifted his
 
 A WOUNDED LION. 321 
 
 calm, almost stolid eyes, he saw a tall form coming 
 through the gate. 
 
 It was Burns. The old man saw him, and quick- 
 ened his pace almost to a run. 
 
 Rameau turned about and passed through the 
 house without a word. Going out, he crossed what 
 had been a vegetable garden, kicked some palings 
 from a fence, went through and was soon in the 
 depth of the wood. 
 
 He was feeling the effect of his wounds. Not 
 only were both his arms badly hurt ; but a gun-shot 
 rent in his breast, though it bled little, was weaken- 
 ing him rapidly. 
 
 Pauline saw him going away and ran after him 
 entreating him to return and have his hurts cared 
 for. Something in his face had told her that he was 
 desperate, hopeless, and she felt a great swell of 
 pity for him rising in her heart. 
 
 She had not noticed the fall of Vasseur or the 
 approach of Burns. Just within the gloom of the 
 moss-hung forest she overtook Rameau and sprang 
 lightly before him. 
 
 He stood still and looked at her. A smile stole 
 into his face ; he tried to lift a hand ; but could only 
 twitch a shoulder. She was flushed and panting, 
 her lips apart, her bright hair disheveled. Her 
 appearance seemed to touch him with some deep 
 emotion. 
 
 " My sweet sister," he murmured, then as if shak- 
 ing off an illusion, he sprang past her while she 
 was pouring forth entreaties, and fairly ran away 
 from her into the gloomy swamp wood.
 
 322 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Pauline stood, like one in a dream, with the words, 
 *' ray sweet sister," ringing strangely as if from dis- 
 tance to distance through her soul. 
 
 She saw, without fairly realizing it, the tall, gaunt 
 form of Burns go by with long, half-feeble, half- 
 vigorous strides. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF LOVE. 
 
 That morning of the eighth day of January was one 
 of awful suspense to the patriotic women of New 
 Orleans. Everything that could make life worth 
 living depended upon the issue of the fight whose 
 heavy billows of sound came rolling up the river to 
 shake the foundations of the city. 
 
 Madame Souvestre, as she stood at the window of 
 the chamber in which Fairfax lay, held one hand 
 upon her heart. She felt it leaping heavily with 
 mingled dread and joy. Each throb was for the 
 brave men battling down there in the fog of morn- 
 ing, and each throb was also for the handsome sol- 
 dier lying within four paces of her, weak and wound- 
 ed, in her sole care. 
 
 The window-panes jarred with every palpitation 
 of the battle-thunder. She turned now and again 
 to look at Fairfax. 
 
 " Do not try to move," she would say ; " it will
 
 A GLIMPSE OF LOVE. 323 
 
 hurt you. Be brave and patient ; it will come out 
 well." 
 
 Then she would go and smooth his pillows or 
 adjust the snowy spread of his couch. Her tiny 
 hands trembled, and a bright rosy spot showed under 
 the petal-like skin of either cheek. 
 
 He tried to talk to her about the battle, but she 
 put one sweet hand over his mouth and shook her 
 head. 
 
 " Listen and be calm, but do not speak," she com- 
 manded ; and he had to obey. 
 
 " Monsieur Crapaud Crapoussin will return after a 
 while," she went on, "and he will tell us glorious 
 news. I know that our brave men are killing those 
 British ; I feel it in every drop of my blood. Hear 
 how our guns crash and roll !" 
 
 She clasped her hands before her and stood in an 
 attitude of intense, passionate attention to the 
 tumbling and bounding din as it seemed to fill all 
 space by jars and throbs. 
 
 Fairfax gazed at her through the crepuscular 
 shadows of the chamber, and, to his feverish and 
 misty imagination, she appeared to irradiate a 
 heavenly light, so that a pale, tender aureole trem- 
 bled about her. A peaceful languor seized him, and 
 he slept. 
 
 The streets were deserted and silent, and as the 
 fog grew tenuous and vanished before the coming 
 of the sun, the cannon roar seemed more distant. 
 
 Madame Souvestre wandered around in the cham- 
 ber, moving noiselessly, covering her face now and 
 again with her hands.
 
 324: THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 Slowly the moments passed. She looked at her 
 jeweled watch ; it was nine o'clock, and the guns 
 had almost ceased their thunder. Fairfax was 
 breathing heavily, but his sleep seemed natural. 
 She bent over him and touched his hair with a fur- 
 tive tender movement. How could he feel so light 
 a stroke on his loosely tumbled locks ? 
 
 " Ah, Pauline ; you have come to me again ! 
 How kind, how sweet !" he murmured. " And the 
 battle is over, and we shall not be parted any 
 more !" 
 
 The little woman drew back from the sleeper and 
 tured pale ; then a hot glow suffused her cheeks. 
 She trembled and held her brow with both hands. 
 
 " Pauline ! Pauline !" she whispered. " He loves 
 some one Pauline ! Pauline ! But it may be his 
 sister. Yes, yes, his voice was so gentle and calm ; 
 Pauline is his sister." 
 
 Once more she cast herself upon the priedieu and 
 lifted prayerful eyes to the Virgin. 
 
 A black woman, with a spotless white turban on 
 her head came in, carrying a silver tray with cof- 
 fee which she placed on the table. She glanced 
 askance at Madame Souvestre, and then silently 
 withdrew. 
 
 The rich brew in the shining pot filled the room 
 with its fragrance. A plump-faced masculine saint 
 looked down from a dark frame on the wall ; his 
 lips appeared ready to ask for a cup. 
 
 Fairfax awoke. 
 
 " Pauline ! Pauline !" he gently called. 
 
 Madame Souvestre sprang up.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF LOVE. 325 
 
 " Oh ! Ah !" he murmured, looking at her inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " You have had a good sleep," she remarked, 
 " and you look refreshed. Here is some coffee." 
 
 " I have been dreaming," he said, smiling apolo- 
 getically, " and at first " 
 
 " At first you thought Mademoiselle Pauline was 
 here." 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
 " You are not reserved. You speak freely when 
 you dream." 
 
 " Do I ? Well, it is all right if I did not disturb 
 you." 
 
 " Disturb me ? Oh, no, not at all. I only heard 
 you calling for Mademoiselle Pauline. She is your 
 sister ?" 
 
 " It was a most vivid dream. But the battle ! 
 Have you heard ? Do you know how it is going ?" 
 
 " You do not hear any more guns," she said, turn- 
 ing to help him with his coffee, " but no word has 
 arrived yet. Surely, Monsieur Crapoussin will 
 arrive soon." 
 
 She put one hand under his head and with the 
 other held the cup to his lips, while he took a hearty 
 draught of the pungent black liquid. 
 
 " Thank you, madame. That was delicious the 
 best coffee that I ever tasted ; and I feel so much 
 better. Surely, there will be good news. But what 
 is that noise ?" 
 
 Madame Souvestre set the coffee on the table and 
 hastened to the window. People were rushing 
 along the street, shouting, gesticulating, grimacing
 
 326 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 wildly. Men, women, children, all appeared to be 
 possessed by an uncontrollable excitement. Hats 
 flew tip into the air, old men were behaving like 
 boys. She turned toward Fairfax with a great light 
 in her face and said : 
 
 " It is victory ! I hear them rejoicing ! Listen !" 
 
 The tumult increased momentarily, and above it 
 all they heard voices singing the " Marseillaise." 
 
 A servant admitted Crapaud Crapoussin whose 
 left ear was under a white bandage that showed a 
 stain of blood. 
 
 " It is glorious !" cried he, pirouetting across the 
 floor, " and see, I am wounded ! A bullet tore a 
 gash in my ear ; I shall have honorable mention ! 
 But, oh, it is a great victory ! We tore them all to 
 rags !" 
 
 He went to the bedside and took a hand of Fairfax 
 between both of his. 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, the whole plain down yonder is 
 red with dead British soldiers, and our army is not 
 hurt," he went on rapidly, almost out of breath. 
 
 "Crapaud," said Fairfax, "go fetch Mademoiselle 
 Pauline Vernon here to me." 
 
 Madame Souvestre started and looked quickly 
 back and forth, from Fairfax to the dwarf. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Pauline Vernon," she repeated, 
 with a confused expression in her face, " oh, to be 
 sure ; but " she hesitated. 
 
 " I made a foolish request," said Fairfax, quickly. 
 " Of course it cannot be done. Forgive me, I fear 
 my strength has fallen off until my mind is weak." 
 
 " No, no, monsieur ; but you talk too much ; you
 
 A GLIMPSE OF LOVE. 327 
 
 must not do it. Certainly, though, Mademoiselle 
 Vernon can come to my house to see you. Go, 
 Crapaud, order my carriage and bring the made- 
 moiselle here." 
 
 She followed Crapaud out of the room, and when 
 they were on the stair she stopped him and said : 
 
 " Is Mademoiselle Vernon his cousin or other 
 kin ?" 
 
 " No, madame." 
 
 " Is he her lover ?" 
 
 " Yes, madame." 
 
 "Crapaud Crapoussin, if you bring her here, I 
 will kill you, do you hear ?" 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 She wrung her hands and looked down into the 
 distorted face of the dwarf. 
 
 " No, no, Crapaud !" she presently added, her 
 voice softening and the tears rising in her eyes, " no, 
 no, I am foolish I do not mean that Here Cra- 
 paud !" She drew forth her purse and gave him 
 some pieces of gold, pieces hard to get in those days. 
 " Take this, and make haste ! Go bring Made- 
 moiselle Vernon. Do you hear ? Hurry !" 
 
 " But, madame," said Crapaud, with a sheepish 
 smile as he pocketed the money, " Mademoiselle 
 Vernon is a prisoner in the hands of the British. I 
 had to speak as I did to Monsieur Fairfax, because 
 he ought not to know that the mademoiselle is a 
 prisoner. It would excite him, kill him, to know." 
 
 Madame Souvestre's face paled, and she trembled 
 from head to foot. 
 
 " These are terrible times, Crapaud," she faltered,
 
 328 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 with a meaningless intonation in her voice, " terrible 
 times." 
 
 He saw her gasp and loose her balance. He 
 caught her in his sturdy arms, lifted her with ease 
 and bore her up the steps into a chamber where he 
 laid her on a couch ; then he ran for her maid and 
 sent her to her mistress. 
 
 " Bah ! It is very bad," he muttered to himself, 
 " this way of the women. It is always love and 
 spasm with them. Bah !" 
 
 He fumbled the bandage over his ear and grim- 
 aced hideously as he looked at the blood that had 
 oozed out upon his fingers. 
 
 Fairfax waited for what seemed an age to him 
 before Madame Souvestre returned. She was pale, 
 but the smile on her lips and the ready cleverness 
 of her manner hid from him the fact that she had 
 been suffering. He knew that she had a brother in 
 Jackson's army, a young fellow just coming to man- 
 hood; she had spoken of him often, and he attributed 
 her excitement to uneasiness about him. 
 
 Crapaud Crapoussin returned at the end of an 
 hour and said that Pauline was not at home. 
 
 " She is very well, though," he volunteered to re- 
 mark, "the servants told me so." 
 
 " Thank you ! I am glad you did not find her. 
 I was half dreaming when I asked you to fetch her; 
 it was absurd." 
 
 Fairfax was looking at Madame Souvestre while 
 he spoke. Something in the depth of her eye as 
 she momentarily returned his gaze was a revelation; 
 Jhe felt a strange, sorrowful thrill go through him,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF LOYE. 329 
 
 After all, her kindness to him had brought her but 
 suffering. He was aware of this now ; the knowl- 
 edge came to him through one of those obscure but 
 ever reliable veins of consciousness by which we re- 
 ceive all of the most precious and many of the most 
 saddening impressions of life. 
 
 Just then she thought of her brother. Why had 
 she not inquired about him of Crapaud Crapoussin ? 
 She felt guilty and abashed, and her heart throbbed 
 painfully. Turning upon the dwarf with a sudden 
 flare of fretfulness in her face, she demanded : 
 
 "Why have you not told me of my brother, 
 Emile ?" 
 
 Crapaud's countenance grew ashen-gray, and his 
 usual clever glibness forsook him wholly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, your brother your brother Emile is 
 oh, he is very well ; yes, he " 
 
 " Monsieur Crapoussin !" 
 
 " Yes, madame, your brother '* 
 
 " Monsieur !" 
 
 " Monsieur Emile, your brother is " 
 
 "Crapaud !" 
 
 " Is dead shot killed !" 
 
 Crapaud bubbled these words forth as if fright- 
 ened almost out of his senses. 
 
 That afternoon they brought the dead soldier 
 home to his sister's house and prepared him for 
 burial
 
 AT LAST. 
 
 Burns, when he caught sight of Pierre Rameati 
 making his way through the woods into the swamp, 
 rushed after him with the energy of one who feels 
 that the spurt of strength vouchsafed to him is to 
 be short and final. 
 
 The old man knew that to fail now meant to fail 
 forever. The terrible excitement, exposure and 
 effort of the past fortnight had drained the cup of 
 his vitality almost to the bottom. The fire of 
 monomaniacal frenzy had burned so fiercely in his 
 breast of late that his eyes showed the effect by a 
 wild, steadfast, strained stare, not unlike that of a 
 dead man. When he shambled past Pauline at the 
 edge of the swamp, he did not see her, so intently 
 was his gaze set upon the retreating figure of the 
 victim he longed for. 
 
 " Kirk MacCollough !" he called, and the name 
 rasped the woods like a file. " Kirk MacCollough, 
 I am coming !" 
 
 At the sound of the voice, the dark man halted 
 and turned about.
 
 AT LAST. 331 
 
 " You had better come no farther !" he coolly 
 said. " Stop right there !" 
 
 Burns slackened his pace, but came steadily upon 
 him, fumbling meantime for the knife in his 
 bosom, his drawn feature set and rigid. 
 
 Rameau retreated, walking slowly backward, fix- 
 ing his tiger-like eyes steadily on the old man's 
 face. 
 
 Pauline ran back to the house as soon as Rameau 
 left her ; so she did not hear the voices of the two 
 men, although they rang with strange distinctness 
 through the moss-hung aisles of the forest. 
 
 " Max Burns," growled the outlaw, with a certain 
 harsh accentuation, " I do not wish to injure you. 
 Keep off !" 
 
 " Ha ! Ha ! Injure me ! You cannot ; I am 
 beyond that. Injury is already hardened upon me 
 like a mail. Death itself cannot find a loose joint." 
 He was speaking with the preacher's intonation and 
 his words had a suggestion of the pulpit. " Though 
 you be Satan himself, I will prevail over you ! 
 Yea, now is your time come to die !" 
 
 " You are crazy ! I pity you ! But you'd better 
 stop !" Rameau muttered, still stepping backward 
 and watching steadily every movement that Burns 
 made. 
 
 Both men were just then recalling the scene in 
 the Pearl-River woods. 
 
 " I will make sure work this time if you force me 
 to it !" Rameau added. 
 
 " This time you die !" said Burns.
 
 332 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 " I have been told that many a time before, Max 
 Burns ; but it was always a lie ; it is a lie now." 
 
 Rameau stopped suddenly as he spoke, and poised 
 himself to kick Burns as he had Vasseur. 
 
 The old man, with uplifted knife, pressed right 
 on. Now, for the first time, he saw that Rameau's 
 arms were both useless and that his clothes were 
 saturated with blood. The discovery caused him to 
 falter involuntarily. 
 
 Rameau lifted his foot, and as he did so he slipped 
 and fell heavily backward on the ground, with one 
 of his broken arms doubled up under him. 
 
 Burns stood glaring at him, while he made feeble 
 efforts to rise. He had fallen so that he could not 
 even turn himself over, and, although he showed 
 no sign of pain, his torture must have been extreme. 
 
 " 1 am at your mercy. Kill me and be done," he 
 remarked, with the old tone of indifference. " You 
 had better be quick if you value revenge, for I am 
 bleeding inwardly. This fall has started the flow." 
 
 Burns stooped over him and gazed into his eyes. 
 The long knife in the old man's hand trembled so 
 that it flickered like a cold ray of light amid the 
 shadows of the funereal wood. 
 
 " You are losing precious time," urged Rameau. 
 " Strike the coward's blow and enjoy the assassin's 
 triumph. When next you preach, take ' Thou shalt 
 not kill,' for a text." 
 
 Burns stooped lower, his face growing livid, his 
 whole frame shaking as with an ague. 
 
 " Hypocrite of hypocrites," continued Rameau, 
 " and fools of fools ! End up your long Christian
 
 AT LAST. 383 
 
 career with murdering a helpless and dying man ! 
 What a lovely thing this Christianity is ! Stab 
 away, why don't you ?" 
 
 Rameau was very weak, and over his firm? 
 strangely complacent face was creeping an ashy 
 pallor. 
 
 Burns knelt down astride of him and grasped the 
 collar of his coat with his left hand, while with his 
 right he slowly lifted the knife. He did not strike, 
 however, but lowered the weapon and gazed vaguely 
 around him and up, as if he had heard something 
 that troubled him. 
 
 The wood was strangely silent, save that,- far 
 aloft, the breeze sighed in the tree-tops. 
 
 "Ah, your courage fails you, does it ?" Rameau 
 sneered. " Your dyspeptic soul shrinks and falters 
 in its hour of triumph ! Pluck up a little spirit, 
 Max Burns ; don't let your last grand opportunity 
 slip away from you !" 
 
 Again the old man began to lift the knife ; but 
 his hand seemed uncontrollable. What was it over- 
 head that made him look up with such an expression 
 in his eyes ? His lips moved dumbly. 
 
 Rarneau's narrow gaze grew awfully intense. 
 
 " You are to blame for my life and yours !" he 
 growled hoarsely. " You are to blame for every- 
 thing ! You set your selfish, hypocritical, canting 
 objections between Margaret and me ; poisoned our 
 lives with your driveling, sanctimonious deceit and 
 bigotry ; drove her from home ; made a brute of me, 
 and now here we are dying together ! Stab, you 
 cowardly old assassin, stab !"
 
 334 THE KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 If Burns had heard him, he gave no sign ; his face 
 was still upturned and over his emaciated features 
 and into his sunken eyes had come a look of sup- 
 plication. Was he praying ? 
 
 ' None of that here !" exclaimed Rameau, noticing 
 the rapt stare and the moving lips. " You shall not 
 make an altar of me for your infernal mummery !" 
 
 As he spoke, he feebly lifted one of his half- 
 paralyzed legs and tried to strike Burns in the back 
 with his knee. 
 
 It was a futile attempt, and the exhausted outlaw 
 settled down with grim resignation to await the end, 
 whatever it might be. 
 
 Burns drew his left hand, which had been clutch- 
 ing Rameau *s collar, across his forehead and eyes, 
 as if to clear his vision, and looked all around, then 
 up into the tree-tops. One seeing him would have 
 been sure that the old man had heard a familiar 
 voice calling him. He was now sitting heavily on 
 Rameau's breast and his shoulders were collapsed. 
 
 " Margaret ! Margaret !" he presently cried in a 
 strange, far-reaching half-whisper. " Did you call 
 me, Margaret ?" 
 
 " Idiot !" snarled Rameau, in whose throat the 
 breath was rattling ominously. " Can't you see that 
 I am dying ? You are going to lose your revenge 
 if you don't strike soon ! What do ) r ou see ? What 
 are you staring at ?" 
 
 "Margaret ! Come nearer, Margaret !" 
 
 " Fool, make haste !" 
 
 " Speak, Margaret ! Speak to me again !" 
 
 Burns leaned and gazed ; the cold sweat stood on
 
 AT LAST. 335 
 
 his wrinkled forehead ; his eyes glowed with some 
 inexpressible ecstasy. 
 
 " Dolt ! Dotard ! Do the dead ever speak ? 
 Your own selfish stubbornness killed her, not my 
 hand ; and now you ask her to speak ! Take your 
 knife and strike your own heart with it as you struck 
 hers with your " 
 
 Ranieau was speaking rapidly, huskily ; his voice 
 seemed to flutter in his throat, when Burns stopped 
 him with a throttling grasp. 
 
 " Hush !" cried the old man. "You frighten her, 
 and she will not speak." 
 
 Was it a smile or a swift spasm of pain that 
 lighted up the outlaw's face ? The breathing of the 
 two men whispered strangely in the silent wood. 
 
 "What is that on your breast, Margaret? A 
 wound ? Oh, my poor child ! Who did it ?" 
 
 " I did it ! I told you that long ago ! I did it !" 
 gasped Rameau. 
 
 " You ! You did it !" screamed Burns, support- 
 ing his weight again on his knees and uplifting the 
 knife with an arm as rigid now as steel. " Kirk 
 MacCollough " 
 
 " Yes, I, Kirk MacCollough !" 
 
 Once more the old man faltered and listened, his 
 eyes turning in every direction. Suddenly he 
 looked up, and a great cry escaped his lips : 
 
 " Heavenly Master is it Thou ?" 
 
 His face changed ; it was like transfiguration ; it 
 
 was illumination. 
 
 ****** 
 
 When Mr. Vernon and Lieutenant Ballanche came
 
 336 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 upon the scene of this last meeting between Max 
 Burns and Kirk MacCollough, they found both men 
 lying dead. 
 
 The outlaw's face was still strangely handsome, 
 and wore, even in that awful repose, a trace of the 
 old reckless indifference to consequences. 
 
 Burns's face was downward, and his knife was 
 driven to the hilt in the damp ground. 
 
 Mr. Vernon stood for a long while looking at the 
 dead. What he thought has never been revealed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 General Jackson, with the caution which the occa- 
 sion demanded, held his little army well together 
 and did not relax his vigilance until he was sure that 
 the British had abandoned all thought of further 
 efforts to take New Orleans. He permitted Mr. Ver- 
 non to conduct Mrs. Vernon, Pauline and Mademoi- 
 selle de Sezannes to the city, but Lieutenant Bal - 
 lanche was ordered, much to his chagrin, to remain 
 with the army. 
 
 Kirk MacCollough, old man Burns and Vasseur 
 had been buried temporarily in shallow graves near 
 where they had fallen. Later, Mr. Vernon had all 
 three brought to New Orleans and interred in a cem- 
 etery where to this day a heavy brick tomb stands
 
 CONCLUSION. 337 
 
 tinder a spreading oak, and until recentty its tablet 
 bore this simple inscription : 
 
 Ci -Git 
 
 PHILIP LORING 
 Tu& en Bataille Rangte. 
 
 A few years ago, the walls of this tomb were 
 crumbling to ruin ; but in 1889 some kind hand 
 restored them and covered the whole with durable 
 stucco. Singularly enough, by mistake, no doubt, 
 the inscription slab also was covered with this rock- 
 like substance. 
 
 There was a tumult of rejoicing which lasted for 
 many days and nights in New Orleans. Never, per- 
 haps, in the history of wars was there a battle of 
 such consequence that caused so little mourning to 
 the victors. The killed and wounded were so few 
 that the face of sorrow scarcely showed itself amid, 
 the general flare of glorification. 
 
 The de Sezannes's mansion was thrown open late 
 in January for a grand reception to General Jack- 
 son and his officers. All the world was there, as the 
 Creoles expressed it, and, next to the grim com- 
 mander himself, Fairfax, who was able to attend as 
 the only wounded soldier present, was the hero of 
 the occasion, especially in the eyes of the ladies. 
 
 " Ah, if I could have been touched with a shot !"
 
 338 THB KINO OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 exclaimed Lieutenant Ballanche, as he joined the 
 group that had gathered around the pale yet radi- 
 antly happy young man. 
 
 " But then we should not liave had the pleasure 
 of being rescued by you," said Pauline. 
 
 " Oh, that was a tame affair on my part." 
 
 " Tame, indeed !" remarked Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes. " You do not appreciate romance." 
 
 " But I do, mademoiselle ; only the romance did 
 not make me a man of note. I am horribly jealous 
 of Fairfax." 
 
 " And here I must sit, like a cat on a rug, while 
 you dance with all these charming ones," said Fair- 
 fax. " It is I who lose most if accounts are properly 
 squared." 
 
 Mr. Vernon was present, passing among the 
 thronging guests, his stalwart form and his massive 
 head distinguishing him as one cast in no common 
 mold. He appeared to have grown older, and the 
 expression of his face suggested some inward reserve 
 of gloom, albeit he smiled and conversed with much 
 of his accustomed stately vivacity. To him Gen- 
 eral Jackson showed more marked respect than to 
 any other person in the house. 
 
 " You will not think me neglectful of your gallant 
 husband's inestimable services to me and the coun- 
 try, madame," said the general to Mrs. Livingston, 
 " if I say frankly that I owe more to Mr. Vernon 
 than to any man in my army." 
 
 " You may trust me not to misunderstand you, 
 general," replied that lady, with frank earnestness. 
 " Mr. Vernon has always been a man of remarkable
 
 CONCLUSION. 339 
 
 influence and executive power. My husband has 
 often relied upon him, and never without avail, in 
 matters apparently beyond hope. But do you 
 know," and she lowered her voice, " that he is 
 wholly mysterious ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I confess that he is the only man that I 
 ever met whose motives and whose character I 
 could not even guess at." 
 
 ' It is comforting to hear you say so ; it confirms 
 me in my romance." She smiled reminiscently and 
 then added : " I have always imagined that some 
 great secret was locked in his breast." 
 
 " It is the secret of greatness hampered by some 
 controlling fate," said Jackson, half in seriousness, 
 perhaps, but guided by his chivalrous impulse to 
 assist Mrs. Livingston in her romantic notion. 
 
 "Do you know that his word is law with the 
 forbans and outlaws ?" she suddenly inquired. " My 
 husband says that he controls them perfectly." 
 
 General Jackson looked at her, and then, with- 
 out replying, masked his face in an expression of 
 impenetrable reserve. He knew that Livingston 
 himself had been accused of standing close in with 
 the Lafittes and other noted law-breakers, and 
 doubtless he feared that the wife of his friend 
 might go too far with her disclosures. Long 
 afterward, in his old age, he remarked to a friend 
 in Nashville that, at the time he was commanding 
 at New Orleans, society there knew no line of 
 division between gentlemen and robbers. " But," 
 he added, " the gentlemen were gentlemen ; the
 
 340 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 robbers, patriots ; and the women were charming ; 
 they were angels, sir angels !" 
 
 The people thronging the de Sezannes mansion 
 were, indeed, drawn together without regard for fit- 
 ness as we now view it, and little did certain of them 
 dream that the great battle over which they were 
 rejoicing had rung the note of change and reform ; 
 that the flash of those guns had kindled the fire of 
 destruction under the very foundations of outlawry. 
 
 It is true that Murrell organized his band of rob- 
 bers and thieves in Mississippi and held them 
 together for some years ; but in New Orleans, as if 
 by a wave of a hand, when Mr. Vernon withdrew 
 his influence, the Chats -Huants disappeared, and the 
 power of the Lafittes was broken forever. 
 
 The de Sezannes reception was the last notable 
 social event under the old regime. After that, there 
 followed disclosures which led to governmental inves- 
 tigation and legal procedure. Steps were taken to 
 administer the criminal laws with great vigor in the 
 State, and the United States government enforced 
 its authority along the coast. These changes 
 speedily brought about a new social order, espec- 
 ially in New Orleans, and the city at once took a 
 high place as a center of refinement, luxury and 
 culture, in which the lines of division between the 
 fit and the unfit were drawn with extreme exclu- 
 siveness. 
 
 Wilfred Parker made his last appearance in New 
 Orleans society on the occasion of Mademoiselle de 
 Sezannes's marriage. M. de Sezannes had insisted 
 on inviting him, although Marie offered as an
 
 CONCLUSION. 341 
 
 objection that she had never been able to rid her- 
 self of the belief that Parker had stolen her ruby on 
 the evening of the party at Chateau d'Or. Lieuten- 
 ant Ballanche heartily disliked the suave little 
 adventurer, without knowing just why ; but he 
 pooh-poohed Marie's suspicion of felonious behavior. 
 
 The very next day Parker was identified as John 
 A. Murrell, and with great difficulty made his escape 
 into Mississippi. The crime of which he was 
 accused was horse-stealing, and when he left New 
 Orleans, it was astride of Ballanche's favorite mare 
 that he rode into the swampy woods and evaded the 
 officers. 
 
 When Pauline and Fairfax were married, the 
 guests at their wedding were chosen with a care 
 that surprised not a few who had expected to be 
 invited. It was Mr. Vernon himself who had most 
 insisted on this exclusiveness. 
 
 Fairfax had his drop of bitter to swallow with all 
 his nuptial sweets. On the day of his marriage, he 
 learned that Madame Souvestre had made over her 
 fortune to the church and had retired to a convent. 
 He could in no wise blame himself for this, and yet 
 he knew that into that sweet young woman's life his 
 sojourn in her house had cast ineradicable sorrow. 
 
 Mr. Vernon insisted upon having his children, as 
 he now called Pauline and Fairfax, live at Chateau 
 d'Or, where they watched him go gently down the 
 decline of life. He outlived Mrs. Vernon many 
 years, and died at the age of ninety-one. For years 
 before his death, he spent much time at an old 
 mahogany desk, writing what afterward was found
 
 34:2 THE KING OP HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 to be both a will and a history. In the testament- 
 ary part of the huge document he left all his 
 property to his daughter, and she was surprised to 
 find that a large part of the bequest consisted of 
 landed estates in Scotland. The will was signed 
 11 Thomas MacCollough," and among the annexed 
 papers were all the directions, facts and document- 
 ary proofs necessary to establish the truth of a 
 strange and startling autobiography. 
 
 One thing was left without a word of explanation : 
 In the package of papers was inclosed the amethyst 
 cross, still shut in the old, worn leather case. 
 
 Pauline refused to make public claim to the 
 estates in Scotland ; but after her death, which was 
 in 1849, h er children offered the proofs and possess- 
 ed the property, which was valued at nearly a 
 million dollars. 
 
 Fairfax never reached eminence as an artist. 
 Indeed, after his marriage, he made no more than 
 occasional efforts with his brush. One of his pic- 
 tures, however, has been recently attracting much 
 attention. By some means, it passed from the 
 hands of the friend in New Orleans to whom Fair- 
 fax gave it, and is now in the collection of " Master, 
 pieces by Obscure Artists," made by the late Mar- 
 quis de Montluzin. 
 
 The picture is scarcely more than a study of the 
 face of Kirk MacCollough, sketched by Fairfax long 
 before his marriage and before he had proof that 
 Pierre Rameau and Colonel Loring were but one 
 man. It is, nevertheless, a powerful piece of work, 
 in which is caught with perfect cunning the indes-
 
 CONCLUSION. 343 
 
 cribable fascination of the strange outlaw's counten- 
 ance. 
 
 Under it, on the darkened margin of the canvas, is 
 written in heavy red letters : 
 
 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND. 
 
 THE END.
 
 ECCENTRICITIES OF GENIUS 
 
 By Major J. B. Pond. 
 
 RKAD WHAT IB SAID OF IT. 
 
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 teresting books of the year from any 
 point of view." Rochester Sunday 
 Herald. 
 
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 so fascinating a book of reminiscences. 
 Many a day or perhaps I should 
 have said a ' night ' for this volume 
 has given me delight during hours, 
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 Dwight Hillis. 
 
 " One of the most simple, naive and 
 straightforward books ever written. 
 It fairly reeks with personality. . . . 
 No man living has had such interest- 
 ing association with so many inter- 
 esting people." Home Journal, 
 
 " Adorned by many pictures, never 
 before published." Detroit Journal. 
 
 " Possesses unparalleled attrac- 
 tions." Boston Journal. 
 
 " Major Pond goes deep into his 
 subject, furnishing pen-portraits that 
 are admirably clear and graphic." 
 The Mail and Express. 
 
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 with anecdotes and extracts from 
 personal letters, is marvelously inter- 
 esting." Boston Transcript. 
 
 "All the world loves a teller of 
 stories, and readers will surely take 
 approvingly to the man who gives 
 them so much of entertaining reading 
 as is found in Major Pond's 600 pages 
 of bright personal description." 
 N. Y. Times. 
 
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 literally teem with interesting anec- 
 dotes of many sorts." Chicago Even- 
 ing Post. 
 
 "Originality stamps the volume, 
 copiously illustrated with portraits." 
 The Boston Globe. 
 
 " It has a thousand charms, and" a 
 thousand points of interest. It is full 
 of striking gems of thought, rare de- 
 scriptions of men and places; biogra- 
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 variety, and the distinction of those 
 alluded to. From a literary view it is 
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 " Curiosities of Literature." Phila- 
 delphia Item. 
 
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 esting book has appeared this season, 
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 get-up is worthy of the matter of the 
 book." Philadelphia Evening Tele- 
 graph. 
 
 It is a handsome octavo volume, 5f x 8j inches, of 620 pages, with nearly 
 loo half-tone portrait illustrations. Beautifully bound in English silk cloth, 
 with gold stamp on side, gilt top. At all Bookstores. $3.50.