"Better stop with us now," said his new friends anxiously, "an' not git into trouble when ye can jest ez well go round it."
"No, thank you," he answered: "I'm going home; and no one will stop me either."
He spurred on, but had gone only a short distance, when a pebble fell in the road in front of him, and then another, evidently thrown from the bushes on his right. He drew rein, and was about to take a pistol from his belt, when he heard some one, evidently a colored man, say, —
"O Mars' Kunnel! don't shoot!" And at the same time he saw a black face, surrounded by gray hair and whiskers, peering out from behind a bush. "Jes' you git down off'n yer hoss, an' stan' h'yer one minit while I tells ye sumfin'."
"What do you want?" he asked impatiently. "It's getting towards sundown, and I don't want to be late home.
"Dar! jes' h'yer him now!" said the colored man reproachfully. "Ez ef ole Jerry ebber wanted tu keep him 'way from home!"
"Well, what is it, Jerry? Be in a hurry!" said Servosse, as he dismounted, and led his horse into the dense undergrowth where the man was. It was without misgiving that he did so. He did not know the man, and had never seen him before, except, as he thought, at the meeting that day. He had been warned of danger; but such was his confidence in the good will of every colored man, that he left the highway, and came into the thicket to meet him, without fear. The confidence which his service as a Federal soldier had inspired in the good faith, trustworthiness, and caution of the colored man, had not yet departed.
"Dey's waitin' fer ye, Mars' Kunnel," said the man almost in a whisper, as soon as he came near. "I'd sot down to rest my lame leg in de bushes jes' a little while ago, an' they come 'long, an' stopped nigh 'bout where I was; an' I heard 'em lay de whole plan, — tu stop ye down by de fo'd, an' tie ye out into de woods, an' give ye a whippin' fur de speech ye made to-day."
The man came from behind his bush, and Servosse saw that he was strangely deformed, or rather crippled from disease. He walked almost bent double, supported by two staves, but had yet a very bright, intelligent countenance. He remembered then having seen him before. His name was Jerry Hunt, and he lived on a plantation adjoining Warrington.
"How did you come to be so far from home, Jerry?" he asked in surprise.
"Went to h'yer de speakin', sah. Can't tell what fer. Tought de Lor' hed sumfin' fer old Jerry tu du out h'yer; so started 'arly, an' come. I knowed de Lor' sent me, but didn't know what fer till I heerd 'em a-fixin' it up tu git ye, mars' Kunnel. Den I knowed, 'cause yu'se our fren': I knows dat."
Then he told how, as he was lying in the bushes to rest, six men came along; and he heard them arrange to waylay Colonel Servosse, "an war' him out wid hick'ries. Dey said dey wa'n't gwine to hurt him, but jes' tu let him know dat he couldn't make sech infamous speeches as dat in dis region widout gettin' his back striped, — dat's all."
"And where are they to be, Uncle Jerry?"
"Jes' on dis side de fo'd, sah, — jes' as ye goes down de hill in de deep cut."
"But how are they to know which road I take? The road forks three miles before I come to the creek, and I can as well take one as the other."
"Yes, sah!" said Uncle Jerry. "Dey taught o' dat: so dey's gwine to leabe one man at de fawks wid a good hoss to come down whichever road you don't take, an' gib 'em warnin', leastwise ef you takes de upper road, which dey don't 'spect, cos you come de lower one. Dey's gwine to put a grape-vine cross de cut to catch yer hoss."
"And who stops at the forks?"
"Mars' Savage, sah."
"What horse is he riding?"
"He'll not hev any at de cawner, but will claim to be waitin' for Mars' Vaughn's carryall to come; but de gray filly's hid in de bushes."
"All right, Jerry. I'm much obliged. If I don't take care of myself now, it's my own fault. Good-night!"
"God bless you, sah!"
Servosse rode on, revolving in his mind a plan by which he should discomfit his enemies. To evade them after such warning was a matter of no difficulty whatever; but he was too angry to wish to do this. The idea that he should be waylaid upon the public highway, and maltreated, because, after their own urgency, he had spoken his opinion frankly and plainly about a public matter, was more than he could endure. He determined to do something more than escape the threatened attack, and give the parties to understand that he was not to be trifled with.
On arriving at the forks of the road, he found Savage in waiting, as he had been told, and, after some little chat with him, started on the upper road. Savage called to him, and assured him that the lower road was much better, and a nearer way to Warrington.
"Well," was the reply, "my horse has chosen this, and I always let him have his own way when we are going toward home."
The horse of which he spoke was a bay Messenger, which he had captured in battle, and afterwards ridden for nearly two years in the service. In speed, endurance, and sagacity the horse had few equals even among that famous stock. Hoof, limb, and wind were sound; and his spirit did honor to his illustrious parentage. Upon his steadiness and capacity his rider could count with the utmost certainty. Horse and man were well mated, each understanding with exactness the temper and habits of the other.
"Now, Lollard," he said, as soon as he was well hidden from the place where Savage was posted, "make the old 'Tabernacle Church' in the best time you can, and see if we do not make these gentlemen repent the attempt to circumvent us."
"The Tabernacle"was the name of a church which stood on the upper road, about two miles from the lower ford, from which there was a bridle-path through the woods, coming out on the lower road about half a mile above the ford. To reach the latter road by this path before Savage should have time to pass the point of intersection was now the immediate object.
Lollard covered the ground with mighty stretches, but evenly and steadily, in a way that showed his staying qualities. When they reached the church, his rider threw the reins on his neck, and leaped to the ground. He was well acquainted with every bush around the church, having frequently attended meeting there. After groping around for a few seconds, he bent over a small hickory, and cut it off with his knife. It made a goad about six feet long, and perhaps an inch and a half in diameter in the heaviest part. He trimmed off a few shoots, and then laid the top on the ground, and held it with his foot while he gave the butt a few turns, deftly twisting the fiber so that it would not snap from any sudden blow. This done, he had a weapon which in the hands of an expert might well be deemed formidable. He had a revolver in his belt; but this he determined not to use.
Mounting again, he dashed down the bridle-path until he came to the lower road. A little clump of pines stood in the angle made by this path and the road; and on the soft sward behind this he stopped, and, leaning forward, stroked his horse's face to prevent him from neighing upon the approach of the expected horseman. He had waited but a few moments when he heard Savage coming at a brisk gallop on his gray filly. The moon had now risen; and between the straggling pine-tops he caught occasional glimpses of the rider as he came along the stretch of white road, now distinctly seen in the moonlight, and now half hidden by the shadow. Holding his horse hard until the other had passed the opening of the path, he gave the gallant bay the spur, and in half a dozen bounds was on the filly's quarter. The long, lithe hickory hissed through the air, and again and again lashed across the mare's haunches. Stung with pain, and mad with fright, she bounded forward, and for a moment was beyond reach; while her rider, scarce less amazed than his horse at the unexpected onset, lost his self-control, and added unintentionally the prick of the spur to her incentives for flight. It was but a moment's respite, however; for the powerful horse was in an instant again at her side, and again and again the strong arm of his rider sent the tough hickory cutting through her hide or over the shoulders of her rider. Half-way to the cut in the road this race of pursuer and pursued kept up. Then Servosse with sudden effort drew in the bay, and subdued his excitement; and, taking the shady side of t
he road, he advanced at an easy gait to observe the result of his artifice. Meantime the party at the cut, hearing the swift clatter of horses' feet, concluded that the man for whom they were waiting had been warned of the ambush, and was pushing forward to avoid being stopped by them in the woods.
"By heavens!" said one, "it will kill him. Let's undo the grape-vine." And he sprang forward, knife in hand, to cut it loose.
"No," said another: "if he chooses to break his neck, it's none of our business."
"Yes," said a third: "let it alone, Sam. It's the easiest way to get rid of him."
An opening in the wood allowed the rising full moon to shine clear upon the upper part of the cut. Faster and faster came the footstrokes of the maddened filly, — nearer and nearer to the ambuscade which the rider's friends had laid for another. Her terrified rider, knowing the fate that was before him, had tried in vain to stop her, had broken his rein in so doing, and now clung in abject terror to the saddle.
"Good God! how he rides!" said one.
"Heavens! men, it will be murder!" cried another; and as by common impulse they sprang forward to cut the rope. It was too late. Just as the hand of the foremost touched the tough vine-rope, the gray filly bounded into the spot of clear moonlight at the head of the cut; and the pale face of their comrade, distorted with terror, flashed upon their sight.
"My God!" they all cried out together, "it's Tom Savage!"
The mare's knees struck the taut vine. There was a crash, a groan; and Tom Savage and his beautiful young mare were lying at the bottom of the rocky cut, crushed and broken, while on the bank stood his comrades, pallid and trembling with horror.
It needed not a moment's reflection to show even to their half-drunken minds what had been the result of their cowardly plan; and, smitten with the sudden consciousness of blood-guiltiness, they turned and fled without waiting to verify their apprehension by an investigation of the quivering wreck of mangled flesh upon the rocks below. Hastily mounting their horses, which were picketed near, they dashed through the ford; and he against whom this evil had been devised heard the sharp clatter of their horses' hoofs as they galloped up the rocky hill beyond. Then he dismounted, and went cautiously forward to the edge of the cut. A moment of listening told him there was none there except the man whom he had lashed on to his fate. His heart beat fast with sickening fear as he glanced at the mangled form below. A low groan fell upon his ear. He clambered down the steep side of the cut, and groped about in the shadow until he found the body of the man. He struck a match, and found that he was still living, though insensible.
At this moment he heard the sound of a rumbling vehicle on the road above.
"Dis way, boys! dis way!" cried the voice of old Jerry. "'Twas right here dey was gwine to stop de Kunnel."
There were hasty footsteps, and a rattling one-horse cart drove into the moonlight with the white-framed face of old Jerry peering over the dashboard; while a half-dozen more colored men, each armed with a stout club, rode with him, or ran beside it.
"Stop!" cried a voice from below.
"Bress de Lor'!" shouted Jerry. "Dat's de Kunnel's voice. Dey hain't killed him yit. Hurry on, boys! hurry on!"
He scrambled from the cart, unmindful of his decrepitude, and in an instant willing hands were helping the "Kunnel" bear something limp and bleeding towards the light. Then one brought water in his hat, and another gathered something to make a blaze for closer examination of the body of Savage. Fortunately he had slipped from the saddle when his mare struck the rope, and before she took her final plunge upon the rocks where she now lay crushed and dying. He had been dashed against the clayey bank, and was battered and bleeding, but still alive. He was put carefully in the cart, and carried on to Warrington.
"Jes' arter ye passed me, Kunnel, the cart comed on, an' I tole 'em what was up, an' got 'em to drive on peart-like, so that we might help ye ef ther was any need on't, which, bress de Lor! dey wa'n't," was uncle Jerry's explanation of their unexpected appearance.
CHAPTER XIV
MURDER MOST FOUL
Table of Contents
THE next day there was a great stir over the horse of Savage, which was found dead at the foot of the cut. The grapevine still remaining attached to a tree on each side of the road fully explained her condition. Savage himself could not be found; and his five companions had all fled, each fearing the others, and each believing the others had removed and hidden the body. That a murder had been committed was evident, every one said; and those who had been privy to the design, though not engaged in its execution, were hardly at fault to imagine how it occurred, at least the main features of it; and the flight of Savage's comrades confirmed them in this belief. The scheme to entrap the new-comer had evidently failed, and a greater evil than had been intended him had befallen one of the conspirators. Strangely enough no one associated Servosse in any way with this result. Public justice, however, and the safety of those who were thought to be the real though unintentional murderers, required that some one should be punished. A scape-goat was absolutely necessary to insure the peace and safety both of those who had fled and those who remained, as well as to satisfy the natural demands of public justice.
So three colored men were arrested on suspicion, and, after being maltreated and threatened to induce them to confess, were haled before Justice Hyman for examination. With hands bound with tightly knotted cords before their breasts, and elbows tied behind their backs, they were led each one by a man on horseback — a great crowd attending, all armed — along the big road which led by Warrington to the house of Squire Hyman. Old Jerry came to inform "de Kunnel" of the arrest. He immediately mounted his horse, and rode over to attend the examination.
The court was held in the grove before the squire's house, the magistrate sitting by a table in his shirt-sleeves, and smoking a long reed-stemmed pipe, the bowl of which was of that noted clay which the smokers of the Allegany slopes declare to be little inferior to the meerschaum, and which the connoisseur who looks for a "sweet smoke," rather than a highly colored bowl, will be apt to prefer even to that vaunted article.
The prisoners were charged with the murder of Thomas Savage. They had been arrested without a warrant, such formality not being considered important, as they were "only niggers." The gravity of the offence charged would have justified an arrest without a warrant; but no one thought of putting it on that ground. One was now filled out, however; affidavit being made by the ever-ready Colonel Vaughn, that he had reasonable ground to believe, and did believe, that the defendants, — — and — — and — — , being malicious and evil-disposed persons, moved and seduced by the instigation of the Devil, at and in the county of — — , one Thomas Savage, in the peace of God and the State then and there being, did kill and murder, contrary to the form of the statute, in such cases made and provided, by tying a grape-vine across the cut on the west side of Gray's Ford on Reedy Run in said county.
The constable made return thereon that he had the bodies of the accused before the court, and the examination proceeded.
The county-attorney, who had been sent for in hot haste to conduct the trial, arrived just as these formalities were concluded, and, after a brief consultation with Colonel Vaughn and one or two others, announced his readiness to proceed, and stated what he expected to prove at some length and with considerable vehemence of expression; after which he proceeded to introduce his evidence. This consisted of proof of the finding of the mare, evidently killed by her fall upon the rocks, the grape-vine drawn tightly across the road, the hat of Savage found in the cut, and traces of blood along the track in the same. These facts, he claimed, sufficiently established the death, without the production of the corpus delicti, — sufficiently, at least, to justify a binding over. He had no doubt but that the body would be found.
To connect the accused men with the crime, he relied upon the fact that they had reason to harbor malice towards the supposed defunct, having had, each of them, some difficulty with him a short time pr
evious to the event. In addition to that, certain tracks were found about the ford in the moist earth, which must have been made by colored men; and those tracks were about the size and general appearance of those of the accused.
When the evidence was concluded, the magistrate remarked that he would have to commit the prisoners; and there was a murmur ran through the crowd to the effect that a better and cheaper way would be to string them up to a tree.
"If you send them to jail," said one, "the damned Bureau will turn them out!"
Then Servosse quietly stepped forward, and inquired if the prisoners had not a right to be heard and to introduce testimony in their own behalf.
A look of blank amazement, not unmixed with righteous indignation, ran through the crowd at this proposal. The magistrate said he supposed they had, — that is, if they had any testimony to offer.
Thereupon Servosse said he would be sworn, and, being asked what he knew about the killing of Thomas Savage by the accused, said he knew they did not kill him.
"Do you know this of your own personal knowledge, Colonel?" asked Justice Hyman.
"I do, sir."
"Will you please tell the court how you know this fact?" asked the county-attorney.
"Because, sir, Mr. Thomas Savage, the man supposed to be dead, is at this moment alive, and at my house."
Had a clap of thunder burst from the clear sky above the crowd, their surprise could not have been greater.
At length the county-attorney broke into a laugh, and, extending his hand to the witness, said, —
"Well, sir, you bring us very good news. What is his condition?"
"He is very much injured; but you had better ask him in regard to the cause of it. He will be able to tell you soon, or, if necessary, might do it now. I prefer not to say any thing about it myself, — at least, not unless in his presence. One thing I can say, however: these men you have under arrest had nothing to do with the accident which befell him."
"All right!" said the attorney. "We may as well discharge them, your worship. I am much obliged to you, Colonel, but wish you had told me before this farce begun. I believe you did it just to see me make a fool of myself."
A Fool's Errand & Bricks without Straw Page 7
