CHAPTER XIII
I MEET LE GAIRE
My hand touching her own seemed to work a sudden transformation. She wasinstantly upon her feet facing me, drawing back a little against thegrape arbor.
"Do not take my words so seriously," she exclaimed. "I am excited,almost hysterical to-night. To-morrow I shall regret much I have doneand said. But you must go, Lieutenant; every moment of delay adds toyour peril and mine. No; please do not touch me or speak to me again;only listen--there is a bridle path leading directly from the farthercorner of the stable to the river; a gate will let you out of theorchard lot; now go!"
"You will not even shake hands?" "I--I--yes, of course, I will do that."Our fingers clasped, and we stood face to face, our eyes meeting throughthe darkness. The thrill of contact, the wild hope that this girl reallycared unusually for me, became almost overpowering. I longed to crushher in my arms, to pour into her ears the passionate words that burnedon my lips. I forgot everything except her presence, her nearness, thesoft pressure of her hand.
"Billie! Billie!"
"No! No!" and she had instantly released herself. "You forget yourself;you forget my position. Now it is good-bye."
"You positively mean this?"
"I do. I am a soldier's daughter, Lieutenant Galesworth, and I amtrusting you to act as a soldier and a gentleman."
Under the cloak of darkness my face burned, feeling the reproof of thisappeal, realizing that I merited the sting. For the instant my actions,my presumption, seemed contemptible. I had taken advantage of herkindness, her sympathy, her trust, and openly misconstrued womanlyfriendliness into a stronger emotion. The rebuke was perfectly just; Icould not even find words of apology, but turned away silently. And shemade no effort to stay me, either by word or motion.
I had crept forward as far as the low fence before the numbness left me,before I came back to full comprehension of my situation, and theserious work confronting me. Then the soldier spirit reawoke into alertaction, my thought intent upon escape, my nerves steadying down for thecoming trial. I recall glancing back, imagining I saw the white glimmerof her dress against the dark shrubbery, and then I resolutely drove allmemory of her from my mind, concentrating every instinct to the oneimmediate purpose of overcoming the stable guard. This was notaltogether new work to one inured as a scout, but sufficiently seriousto call forth every precaution. Cautiously I crept along the fence untilI discovered an opening large enough to crawl through, scarcely rustlingthe concealing leaves, and resting flat on the opposite side while Isurveyed the prospect. I was not far now from the south wall of thestable, which loomed black and shapeless against the sky. Not a movementrevealed the whereabouts of the guard, and, with the girl's descriptionto guide me, I concluded the fellow would be stationed at the otherextremity of the building. Convinced as to this probability I dragged mybody slowly forward until I could touch the log wall. I could see betternow, being myself in the denser shadow, and knew the passage was clearto the corner.
Assured of this I rose to my feet, revolver in hand, and pressing closeagainst the side of the building, advanced quickly and silently. At thecorner I peered about, scarcely daring to breathe, but with heartpounding, as I caught sight of the fellow, not over three feet distant.He was seated on an overturned bucket, his back toward me, both handsclasping a musket, his head bent slightly forward. He seemed listeningto some noise in the distance, totally unconscious of my approach. Theman's fingers were nowhere near the trigger of his gun, and my strainingeyes could perceive no sign of any other weapon. This had to be silentwork--silent and swift. With one step forward I had my revolver pressedhard against his cheek, my other hand crushing his fingers tothe musket.
"Keep quiet, man! Not a move! I'll blow your head off if you lift ahand!"
"Oh! Good God!"
He was but little more than a boy; I could see his face now under theslouch hat, and I had already frightened the life half out of him.
"Drop your gun! Now stand up!" He obeyed like an automaton, his brainseemingly paralyzed. There was nothing to fear from this fellow, yet Iknew better than to become careless--terror has been known to drive mencrazy. I caught him by the collar, whirling him about, my Colt stillat his ear.
"Go straight to the stable door, son!"
"Who--who are you? W--what do you want?"
"Don't stop to ask questions--you trot, unless you want to get hurt. Doyou hear me?--the stable door! That's it; now undo the button, open thedoor, and go inside."
I held him like a vice, assured his belt contained no weapons, andthrust him forward against the wall. He was so helpless in my grasp thatit was like handling a child.
"Feel along there--higher up--and tell me what you find. Well, what isit?"
"A--a bridle," his voice barely audible.
"Halter strap on it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Take it off, and hand it back here. Now go on, and feel the nextstake."
"There's a blanket, and--and a rope halter."
"Good! give me that; now, son, put both hands back here, cross thewrists. Come, stand up to it; this is better than getting killed, isn'tit? Now here is a nice soft spot to lie on, and I guess you'll remainthere for a while. Do you want me to gag you, or will you keep still?"
"I'll--I'll keep still!"
"Well, be sure you do; your life isn't worth a picayune if you raise anyrow."
I arose to my feet, confident the boy had been safely disposed of, andfeeling blindly around in the darkness, seeking to locate the stalls.At that instant a horse neighed outside; then I heard the sound of hoofspounding on soft soil. Whoever the fellow was, he was almostthere--coming up at a trot, just back of the stables. My brain worked ina flash--there was but once chance to stave off discovery. With a boundI was beside the boy, and had jerked off his hat, jamming it down on myown head, as I muttered in his ear, "One word from you now, and you'llnever speak again--don't take the chance!"
I leaped for the door, and grasped the musket, barely straightening up,as the oncoming horseman swung around the corner. It was a desperatechance, yet in this darkness he could scarcely distinguish color ofuniform or shape of features. It might work; it was worth trying. I sawthe dim outlines of horse and rider in a red glow, as though the latterheld a cigar between his lips; then I swung forward my gun.
"Halt! who comes?"
Startled by the sudden challenge, the horse reared to the sharp jerk atthe reins, the man uttering an oath as he struggled to controlthe beast.
"Hell! What's this?"
"A sentry post; answer up, or I'll call the guard--who are you?"
"An officer on special service." "Dismount, and give the word."
He swung reluctantly down, growling, yet with sufficient respect for mycocked musket to be fairly civil, and stepped up against the loweredbarrel, his horse's rein in hand.
"Atlanta," he whispered.
My gun snapped back to a carry, my only thought an intense anxiety tohave him off as quickly as possible.
"Pass officer on special service."
He paused, puffing at his cigar.
"What's the best way to the house, sentry?" he asked with apparentcarelessness, "along the fence there?"
"The road runs this side, you can't miss it," I replied civilly enough,but stepping back so as to increase our distance.
"Ah, yes--thanks."
He flipped the ash from his cigar, drawing at the stub so fiercely thered glow reflected directly into my eyes. He stared a moment, thenturned, and thrust a foot into the stirrup.
"I've seen you somewhere before, my man."
"I was at the gate when you came through just before dark."
"Oh, yes," he replied, apparently satisfied, and swung up lightly intothe saddle. "So you recognize me, then?"
"Captain Le Gaire, is it not? The sergeant said so."
He believed he had me completely deceived, that I entertained nosuspicion he had also recognized me, and that therefore he could play mea sharp trick. I was not sure, for t
he man acted his part rarely well,only that I knew it was not in Le Gaire's nature to be so excessivelypolite. What was his game, I wondered, gripping my musket with bothhands, my eyes following his every motion. Would he venture an attackalone, or ride on and report me to the guard? I had little enough timein which to speculate. He gathered up the reins in one hand, his horsecavorting; he had probably found somewhere a fresh mount. I steppedaside, but the animal still faced me, and with high-flung head partiallyconcealed his rider. Suddenly the latter dug in his spurs, and the beastleaped straight at me, front hoofs pawing the air. I escaped as by ahair's breadth, one iron shoe fairly grazing my shoulder, but, with thesame movement, I swung the clubbed musket. He had no time to dodge;there was a thud as it struck, a smothered cry, and the saddle wasempty, a revolver flipping into the air, as the man went plunging over.I sprang to the horse's bit, the frightened animal dragging me nearlyto the fence before I conquered him. But I dare not let go--once free hewould join the troop horses, his riderless saddle sure to alarm theguards. With lacerated hands, and shirt torn into shreds, I held on,jerked and bruised by the mad struggle, until the fellow stoodtrembling. Using the bridle rein for a halter strap I tied him to thefence, and, sore all over and breathing hard from exertion, went back todiscover what had become of Le Gaire.
The excitement of encounter had, for the instant, banished allrecollection of the young woman hidden beneath the shadow of the grapearbor. My entire mind had concentrated on the fight, which, even now,might not be ended. I knew I had struck the fellow hard with the full,wide swing of the musket stock; I had both felt and heard the blow, andthe impact had hurled him clear from the horse. Beyond doubt he washelpless, badly hurt perhaps, and there suddenly came to me a fear lestI had actually killed him. I had struck fiercely, impelled by theinstinct to save myself, but I had had no desire to take the man's life.I had no reason to like Le Gaire; I believed him a bully, adisagreeable, boasting cur, but he was something to Willifred Hardy, andI could not afford to have his blood on my hands. I thought of her then,casting a swift glance back toward the shadows beyond the fence, andthen went straight toward where the fellow lay, afraid to learn thetruth, yet even more intensely afraid to again meet her without knowing.He had evidently fallen upon his shoulder, and still lay in a huddledheap. I had to straighten out his form before I was able to decidewhether he was living or dead. I bent down, undoing his jacket, andplaced my ear to his heart. It beat plainly enough, almostregularly--the man was alive; I doubted if he were even seriouslyinjured. This discovery was such a relief that I muttered a "Thank God,"and began rubbing his chest as though in effort to restore the fellow toconsciousness. Then my senses came back, my realization of thesituation. Let Le Gaire lie where he was; others would take care of himsoon enough. I must get away; I could use his horse, pretend to be him,if necessary, and before daylight be safely across the river. I soughtalong the ground until I found the dropped revolver, thrust it into mybelt, and ran over to where the horse was tied.
I had loosened the rein, my hand on the pommel, when the thought camethat I must tell her first before I rode away. Even though the delay wasa risk to us both, yet she must understand the truth, be informed of LeGaire's condition, and why I had attacked him. At the instant this lastseemed more important than all else. It would require but a moment, andthen I could go, confident the man's injury would be no additionalbarrier between us, would never cause her to suspect that I had attackedhim wantonly, actuated by personal motives. He might try to make herthink so, if he were the kind I believed, his mind already suspicious ofher interest in me. Her very sympathy for his wounds would make hereasily influenced; this natural sympathy must not be inflamed by doubtof my motives and the thought that I had deliberately sought the man'slife. It may have been two rods between the fence and the grape arbor,and I called to her softly.
Love under Fire Page 13
