The Border Spy; or, The Beautiful Captive of the Rebel Camp

by Harry Hazelton

  CHAPTER II.

  _The Meeting--The tale of Wrong and Blood--The Avenger--The Oath--The Mountain Maid--The Lover._

  Oh, I could play the woman with mine eyes, and braggart with my tongue. But gentle heaven, cut short all intermission, Front to front bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself, Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too.--_Shakespeare._

  When Fall-leaf reached the ground he started for the river, pursuing hisway cautiously, but rapidly. Ever and anon he would pause and listen. Itwas evident he was pursued by the party from whom he had just escaped,but, as he passed along, their shouts were received only by a scornfulcurl of his bronze lip.

  But he soon found more difficult objects with which to contend. As heemerged into an open space, he came suddenly upon the party under thecommand of Rains. He was not at once discovered. Bending to the earth,he crept cautiously along, concealing himself as best he could, by theunder brush and tall grass. But he was not long to remain undiscovered.One of the rebel party, having espied the object of their pursuit,raised his rifle, and as its report rang through the forest, it wasanswered by a sharp cry of the Indian, who sprang into the air, and fellbackward.

  In an instant he was surrounded. Upon examination it was found that thebullet had penetrated his breast, rendering a dangerous, if not fatalwound, from which the blood was flowing profusely. He was quiteconscious, but unable to move or speak.

  "Shall I send a bullet through his brain?" asked one of the rebel band.

  "It is unnecessary. That ugly wound in the breast will soon end him. Butstay. His tribe must not know of his death. Throw him into that hole byyonder rock, then fill it up with stone and dirt."

  The form of Fall-leaf was taken from the ground, and cast with violenceinto a cavern, or "sink-hole," about twenty feet in depth, large enoughat its bottom to contain the bodies of a dozen men, but, unlike themajority of such old water-escapes to caverns in the bowels of theearth, the mouth of this hole was so small that it was quite difficultfor the passage of a single form. As soon as this was done, the partyproceeded to fill the entrance with rock and rubbish.

  "It is done. He will trouble us no more!" said Rains.

  "He is buried alive!"

  "Yes, but no matter. Let us return to camp!"

  The rescuer of Fall-leaf, after his escape, pushed rapidly forward tothe river bank. Here he paused for a moment and listened. No sound washeard. He placed his ear to the ground.

  "They are no longer in pursuit, but are returning to camp," he muttered,after a pause. Then he drew a small whistle from his pocket, and soundeda shrill note. There was no reply, and he repeated the call. Still therewas no answer.

  "Has he been seized by those ruffians? If so, I must return to hisrescue. But, stay. I heard the report of a rifle, and then a sharp cry.He may have met some of the soldiers, and suffered at their hands. Atall events, it will be useless now for me to go again to camp, as theguard will be doubly vigilant. I will return to the cabin, and ifFall-leaf does not appear by nightfall, I will then go in search of him.Perhaps Johnson will accompany me."

  He plunged into the river, and soon reached the other side. Onward hewent, up the mountain, not pausing for a moment, showing himselfperfectly familiar with the locality. At length he emerged into an openspace, near the summit of the ridge he had been traversing, at theopposite side of which appeared a rude log cabin. He sprang forward witha smile as his eyes fell upon the dwelling, but as he came nearer thesmile faded, and a look of wonder, or painful anxiety, became fixed uponhis face. At length he paused and exclaimed:

  "What means all this? How I tremble! What forebodings flash across mybrain! If harm has come to them, I shall go mad, mad! Oh! my father--mydear sister, why are you not upon the threshold to welcome my return? Noanswer! All is silent there--and all is desolation, too. The creepingvines are torn away--the flowers choked with weeds--the beauty of theplace departed--_she_ is _not_ there, else it would not be so! And I amdoomed to--I must be satisfied first. Alibamo! Sister! _Alibamo!_" Hisvoice rang out with startling clearness.

  "Who calls! William! Brother!"

  "Johnson--my best friend--oh! _you_ are yet living!" cried William, ashe sprang into the arms of Johnson, who had appeared in the cabin door.

  "Yes, friend, you are living; but where is my fa---- oh! I fear toask--I am a coward, Johnson!"

  "You observe a change here, I suppose?" asked Johnson.

  "Yes! But tell me _why_ this change? I can bear it now!"

  "First let me hear of yourself, William, and then I will answer you.Where have you been detained so long?"

  "I cannot answer until you have told me of my father and my sister. Arethey alive?"

  "I hope so!"

  "You _hope_ so! Oh! Johnson, my heart will burst with this suspense.Think for a moment. I have been a prisoner now nearly three months. Atthe battle of Wilson's Creek I was taken by the enemy, having been leftwounded upon the field. I suffered--oh! how terribly! I suffered frombodily pain--from hunger--my heart wrung by the taunts and insultsheaped upon me by the wretches who held me in their power. I often feltdeath would be a great relief, but _hope_--the bright star of hope rosehigh above the dark cloud which surrounded me, and I lived on. What wasthat hope, Johnson? It was of home! Father! Sister! I dreamed ofliberty, even in my dungeon's depths--and on the grimmy walls I tracedthe flowers and vines my sister reared. The night winds whistledthrough my casements, and I heard my sister's voice--her song so sweetand thrilling. If dreaming thus, I woke to sadness, my father's voicewould speak to me, bidding me be firm and hope. At last the news reachedme, even in my cell at Springfield, that Fremont was coming. My woundswere healed, and I resolved to escape. Oh! how I longed for freedom. Andwhy? First, that I might once more clasp my father and my sister in myarms, and then join Fremont. I watched for opportunity, and soon itcame. I escaped at night, by the assistance of Fall-leaf, an Indianchief. I started at once for home. I was crossing the mountain thismorning, when suddenly I came upon the outposts of Price. I saw mydeliverer a prisoner, and bound. I did not hesitate, and by a stratagem,released him. The trick was discovered and we were pursued. I becameseparated from Fall-leaf. I should have returned in search of him, but Icould not. In the distance I could see my home, never before so loved. Ifelt that dear ones were waiting my approach, and I hastened onward. Andnow, with burning brain and bursting heart I ask, are they yet living,and you reply you 'hope so!'"

  "Come in, William, I will tell you all," answered Johnson.

  "All! Oh! that word has a terrible sound. I cannot go in if _they_ arenot here! Each familiar article would only be a dart piercing my heart.Here I will listen where there is air to breathe."

  He seated himself upon a log before the door, and dropping his face inhis hands, he said:

  "Go on!"

  "William, it will require all your fortitude to listen to the narrative,for it is a tale of blood!"

  "Go on!" replied William, without raising his head.

  "I will. After the fall and defeat of the brave General Lyon, atWilson's Creek, and the consequent retreat of the Union army, ourposition here was by no means an enviable one. It was well known that wewere originally from the East. We were called 'abolitionists,' and thiswas enough. Other families were equally persecuted, and we resolved toleave the country. A party of Unionists, consisting of all our immediateneighbors, assembled here to make arrangements for leaving on a statedday. We were seated around this very spot, unconscious of danger,conversing upon our present trials and future hopes. We numbered twentysouls, thirteen of whom were women and children. On a sudden a party ofrebel ruffians dashed upon us from the surrounding woods. Escape wasimpossible, and but one of our party was armed. We sat quietly awaitingtheir approach, thinking this the best course to pursue, as we could notbelieve unarmed men would be murdered in cold blood, even by thosewretches. But we were wofully in error. Their captain, one RobertBranch, rode to the side of Walter Leeman, and clo
ve his skull. I sprangto my feet--so did our comrades. But the conflict was of short duration.Seven unarmed men could not cope long with forty mounted assassins. Isaw--your father--fall--"

  A groan was the only response from William. He did not raise his head.

  "I seized the rifle of my fallen friend, and for a moment used it withterrible effect. I saw three villains fall under the blows I gave, butthis could not last. I was stricken down, but not until I had heard thebarbarous captain cry out, 'Spare that maiden beauty--she must be mine!'I could not save her--I fainted!"

  "Oh! sister--Alibamo!" sobbed William.

  "I must have remained unconscious for some hours, as it was dark when Iawoke. I could scarcely move, either from loss of blood, or the terribleexcitement and exertion I had undergone. I remained quiet untildaylight, with the exception of several times calling the names of myfriends. But I received no answer. And no wonder. Oh! what a sight metmy eyes in the morning. I almost wished it had never come. Even thebright sun must have sickened as it gazed on such a sight."

  "Was my father dead?" asked William.

  "I could not find his body, although I searched for it everywhere. It ismy belief that he was only wounded and then carried off, a prisoner.Five of my friends lay dead and cold by my side. Myself and your fathermade up the seven men who were present when the fight began. My wife wasbleeding at my feet. She was not dead--but only survived long enough togently press my hand, and _look_ her last farewell. She could not speak.I had but an indistinct recollection of her having thrown herself beforeme, and the blow levelled at my life was received by her. Oh! God, whywas I saved to life--but not to live? For I cannot live without her! Ihad only been stunned by the blow."

  "And my sister?" asked William.

  "She, too, must have been taken captive!"

  "Then, by heavens, we have much to live for!" cried William, starting tohis feet.

  "Much to live for? Yes--our country--our hopes--revenge! Oh! William,could you have seen that sight, _you_ would feel as I now feel. Couldyou have felt the burning fires that seared my heart as I lifted thedying form of her I loved so truly, in my arms, and vainly begged hernot to leave me yet, you would feel as I now feel. Could you have heardthe cry of agony wrung from my wretched breast when I knew I no longerhad a wife, you would feel as I do now. Oh! William, it isterrible--terrible!"

  "What course did you pursue?" asked William.

  "I consigned our loved ones to the grave, disguised myself, staining myskin with walnut bark, and then started forth for vengeance!"

  "And what have you accomplished?"

  "But little as yet. I have not met _the_ man. I could have killed, butif discovered, or even suspected, it would prevent the carrying out ofmy plans. Price has employed me as a spy, and thus I have access throughhis lines. My plans are first, to find your father and your sister. I amalmost certain she is with the rebel army, and that I heard her sweetvoice, last night, singing a mournful song."

  "Oh! if she lives--but let us go. I will enter the lines of the rebelarmy this very night. I _will_ go, and if my sister is there, she shallbe saved, or I will perish with her!"

  "I am waiting only for to-morrow night. At that time Price will supposeI have just returned from Warsaw. Then I will go with you!" repliedJohnson.

  "I shall go to-night!" answered William. "But I shall enter the camp bystealth, crawl from tent to tent, listen to all conversations, andperhaps in this manner may get important information, both for ourfriends, and of my father and sister."

  "It is a desperate hazard, William!"

  "I am resolved!"

  "I shall go with you!" replied Johnson.

  "No, or at least, not within the camp. If you were seen before theexpected time, it would create suspicion. You will conceal yourselfbefore you reach the outer pickets. But I must find Fall-leaf. I will goto the point where I heard the rifle report. He may be wounded--perhapsdead."

  Night was fast approaching as the friends took their course down themountain, and toward the rebel camp. The fires could be distinctly seen,and the shrill notes of the fife, and the rattle of the drum, echoedacross the mountain, and from hill to hill. As they reached the river,William exclaimed:

  "It is nine o'clock. They are beating the tattoo in camp. In an hour allwill be quiet. But let us now search for Fall-leaf. The moon is shiningbrightly, which will favor our search!"

  The friends sprang into a small skiff which Johnson drew from itsconcealment in a clump of under brush, and in a moment were upon theopposite bank. Without further words, William led the way, and soonarrived on the spot where Fall-leaf had been wounded. He examined theground carefully, and at last exclaimed:

  "Here are traces of blood, and the grass is trodden down, plainlyshowing that a great struggle has occurred, or that a large party havepassed over this place."

  "Let us trace the path. Here it runs, up this slope, toward this rock.And look! here the earth has been disturbed. Do you not remember therewas a cave here? And its mouth or entrance is filled with rock andearth, which has been newly thrown there. Fall-leaf has been killed, andburied here!"

  "Why buried? These rebels are not in the habit of burying those whomthey murder. Why should they bury Fall-leaf?"

  "Because he is of a powerful tribe, and his death, if known, would makeeternal enemies of all the Delawares."

  "He was their friend, was he not?"

  "No! He met Fremont at Tipton. He had formerly been his friend, havingoften met him on the plains between this and the Rocky Mountains. Hiswhole tribe is deeply attached to the general, and will do all in theirpower to assist him. And if the Delawares should learn of his death, Ibelieve that tribe alone would almost annihilate Price and his army."

  The work of removing the stone and earth which obstructed the entranceof the cave, now began.

  They toiled on in silence. At length the last obstacle was removed, andWilliam called:

  "Fall-leaf! Fall-leaf!"

  There was no answer.

  "He is dead, or not here!" said Johnson.

  "He must be here else why has this cave been filled, and so recently. Iwill descend and ascertain."

  William sprang into the cave. He had nothing with which to strike alight, but in a moment he said:

  "There are _two_ bodies here. I will pass them out, and by the moonlightwe can examine their features."

  William lifted the bodies toward the entrance, and as he did so he said:

  "One of them has been here a long time, as the decomposition indicates.Lay them on the ground, Johnson, and I will search farther!"

  After a moment's pause, Johnson asked:

  "Do you find anything else?"

  "No--nothing!"

  "Then come out."

  William left the cave, and as he did so, Johnson grasped him by the arm,and asked:

  "Will you be calm!"

  "Yes--yes!" replied William. "But what do you mean?"

  "Will you think _only_ of revenge?"

  "Of revenge! What do you mean?"

  "Look there!" cried Johnson, pointing to one of the bodies which hadbeen taken from the cave.

  "My father!" shrieked William, as he glanced at the corpse.

  "Yes, your father! But, pray be firm--be calm."

  "I am calm--very calm!" sobbed William, as he sank beside the inanimateclay.

  "The Indian is recovering, William," said Johnson.

  This was indeed the case. In spite of his long confinement in the cave,and the suffering endured from his wound, Fall-leaf had recoveredsufficiently to speak. He had partially raised himself from the ground,and was resting his head upon his elbow.

  But William was too deeply affected to observe this, or to notice thewords spoken by Johnson.

  At last he arose from his prostrate position beside his father's corpse,and for a moment gazed wildly around him. He pressed his hands to histemples, as if endeavoring to collect his scattered thoughts. His eyesfell upon the Indian, and then were raised to Johnson.

  "I rem
ember all now!" he said. "I hoped it was a dream--but it is adread reality--but not all--not all!"

  "William! You know me?"

  Johnson gazed upon him with earnestness.

  "You think I am mad, Johnson! But I am not. Hark! Great heavens!Listen!"

  Johnson shook his head.

  "Here, Johnson--here! kneel with me--here, beside my father's clay!_That_ voice tells me I have work to do!"

  "What voice, William?"

  "A thousand voices calling for vengeance. But, kneel with me now, andswear by the God of truth and justice--swear by my wrongs, your wrongs,our country's wrongs--swear by your murdered wife, to join me inpursuing these fiends in human form, until they are swept from theearth!"

  "I swear!" cried Johnson, as he knelt beside his friend.

  "Me--me next!" answered Fall-leaf. He made an effort to get upon hisfeet, but fell back.

  "That voice again?" cried William, starting up, and listening.

  "I hear nothing!" answered Johnson.

  "But I do! It is a sound soft and plaintive. It echoes along themountain, and I know its melody. It is the voice of Alibamo."

  For a moment all were silent and listened eagerly to catch the distantsound, but it was so low and indistinct that nothing definite could bemade of it.

  "It is only the murmur of the river, William," said Johnson.

  "To me it is the murmur of an angel, and I will trace its source.Johnson, you must remove Fall-leaf to our cabin. His wound is painful,and needs attention. Bury my father first, and then perform this duty. Iwill meet you to-morrow night."

  Without further words, William darted from the spot, and commenced hiscourse up the mountain toward the camp of Price. Now and then he pausedto listen, but all was silent, save the murmur of the breeze among theoaks, and the rippling of the rills.

  "Am I dreaming?" he at last exclaimed. "No--no! there is her voiceagain! Sister!"

  William paused, listening intently.

  Upon the clear, moonlight air, rang out a voice, sweeter than angels'echoes. But the words; they spoke of love--of willing captivity--offuture joys mingled with hope. Of her brother-her father-_and herlover_--"HARRY!"

  "Is it possible _she_ has loved a rebel! O God! is my cup of bitternessnot yet full? But I will steal closer, and listen!"

  In a short time he reached a rock, upon which, in the clear moonlight,could be seen, two forms. The one a female, pure and lovely as themoon's own rays; the other, a delicate youth, of about twenty years ofage, yet bearing the impress of a noble soldier. Alibamo spoke:

  "Are you not required in camp, dear Harry?"

  "Yes, love--but here, also!"

  "You would not sacrifice your duty for love?"

  "My first duty is here--with one I love so wildly. And you love me, doyou not, Alibamo?"

  "Oh! Harry--I cannot tell you how dearly!"

  "Then you are not _my_ sister!" shrieked William, who had heard thesewords.

  "Halt! Who comes there?"

  These words were spoken by one of the sentinels of the picket. In aninstant, William had darted from the spot. The sentinel fired upon himwithout effect. He was soon out of danger, and then paused irresolute.At length he said:

  "It will be useless to return to night. That gun has aroused the camp,and they are beating the long roll. But, why should I wish to return. Mysister loves a rebel. No! what is that? Why, he--her lover is waving theStars and Stripes from yonder rock. He knows I see him--andhark!--she--my sister--is singing--The Star-Spangled Banner. Surely thisis all a dream."